Maybe it's because he's braced for it, or maybe it's because he's robbed the oven of its power in a very literal fashion, but when Methos opens the oven there's only the slightest sad whisper in his mind. Inside, the bread is steaming but the oven is much too cool already. The stones on which the bread sits likely have some epitaph or another inscribed on their faces, but the marks he spotted earlier are on the bottom edge of each stone where they'd be hidden were the stones planted in the ground. The matches all mark: they're a blocky pair of initials spelling GM. The stones are in remarkably good condition, with no visible weathering.

Beau will find that Bryn's skin is shockingly cold to the touch. He struggles in panic against a force he can't see, heart fluttering widly as he gasps for breath. His struggles are weak and rapidly growing weaker as his eyes lose their focus and his lips turn blue; Beau will soon find herself taking more of his weight as his knees give out.

Then click goes a lone oven, heat coming back on and the smell of bread filling the room again. Bryn's erratic breathing doesn't exactly calm, but his frantic gasps seem to be getting him enough air now and the corpsish look of a moment ago has retreated. His eyes roll frantically in his head, blindly looking through and past them.

Again, though, something seems to have registered if only unconsciously. "Help me..." he chokes out, grabbing clumsily at the nearby shelves.