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That voice continued in his ear and Artisan's every strand of fur stood on end. He could see Armando gesturing to him, yelling back some ridiculous raccoon retort but all he could hear was the threat the ethereal voice spoke deep into his soul. Artisan was not exceptionally familiar with witchcraft, ghosts, or any paranormal mumbo jumbo really, but he could not deny the demand was very real and not at all a figment of his imagination.

"Uh, buddy?" He called up hesitantly to the critter. "The angry voice wants you to let go of the fireflies, I think?" The colorful man flinched to his side, as if moving away from the voice's origin would lower it's intensity. In reality the words were not so clear, though Artisan thought the voice got it's point across quite clearly. He cocked his head, listening a bit harder.

"Speech"