“I must applaud your bravery,” he croaked. He sounded worse than last time, and I didn’t like it. “I see your parents in you. Audacious yet softhearted.”
I chewed on my lip and decided to ask. “What’s happening to you?”
He looked at the restraints on his arms. “Insentience.” No way. He was becoming one of them—a crazy. “We must start testing for symptoms at age seventy. For most, it starts much later.”
“You mean to say all those deadly volyrs on the streets had civilized lives before they turned to that?”
A long shaky sigh left him. “Insentience makes us forget who we are, our souls, our conscience. We get unfamiliar with our environment. We, quite literally, become the animals we were born to be from our primeval stage.”
I was appalled. “Does every volyr go through that?”
“It’s what
