Hymn of Destiny

He’s not sure how he ends up crashing at the Inn’s doorstep, managing a single knock before he collapses. He hears the heavy doors swing open, some shuffling of feet, and the muffled voice of a woman screeching from inside. Basileios hears a deep sigh as a hand wraps around his ankle, and he hears his captor grumble something in response before his world goes black.

And he sleeps for four days.

When he wakes, the pain in his knee has calmed enough for him to breathe. It takes him another week to recover from not only the magical withdrawal but the drink… He can no longer look at his favorite the same. Though his body craved its release, he could not provide it, even the smell of his whiskey enough to churn his stomach. He can feel it again- the fog in his mind and the race in his heart. He doesn’t want to live it again. He can’t take the risk.

The nightmares still make it hard to sleep at night. He starts to sleepwalk occasionally, but he denies it. Basileios was rarely one to dream before, but now he is plagued with them. He wakes in a cold sweat most nights, if he is even still in his own bed. Eventually, Yasumi starts to lock him in. He can’t blame her.

And it’s just when he’s sure there’s no end that the fever breaks. He can feel a shift, warmth in his blood, peace in his breath. He lays in a fit of scratchy blankets and too-soft blankets, his eyes closed as he starts to drift to sleep.

A chirp catches his attention, and his eyes flutter open slowly and turn to the window. The sparrow has returned, stretching its smokey wings before it pecks aimlessly at the windowsill.

It is not long before he is lost to sleep, and when he wakes, he is feeling… better. Normal. His magic takes a few days to return to him at full strength, and when it does, it seems… different… Changed... But in a good way. He finds himself feeling more in tune with his abilities, and overall more comfortable as a mage (for it had been sprung on him so suddenly before).

He feels like himself again.