Issac had passed out somewhere within the arrival to Khal and her cleaning up his wounds. It might have been for the best f for everyone involved as Issac had never had good reactions to a lack of talisman to keep his the broken pieces of his magic at bay.
People got angry with his constant telepathy, peering into people's minds without consent or knowledge half the time, but they did not understand the extent of his mental magics and the costs he paid. Without the talisman his magic was as strong and endless as Elia's but his toll came with a lot higher price. It was chaotic magic energy with no one able to train him to control it since he was young. His own grandfather that shared the type of magic left him to the Cirque to let them take care of it.
Issac's unconsciousness did not bring peace, the voices trumpeting even while his mind refused to continue with the pain. Issac could feel the two spirits sit down near, their voices added at the pile of the pile. When her hand reached out, Issac groaned. Hands coming to his temples again.
"Make it stop..." He whimpered. Many weeks of his first arrival to the Cirque had been a mixture of these violent, intense episodes and his descent into insanity as he picked up traits from older Cirque employees. He had never been out of pain in those days, until the coven had eventually found a talisman that worked 'enough.'