Veracity


Authors
zombee
Published
1 year, 5 months ago
Updated
1 year, 5 months ago
Stats
7 1738 1

Chapter 3
Published 1 year, 5 months ago
374

November story prompt for bas & kerelas

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Basileios


Basileios feels a rush of wind suck through him as he opens the door, his chest tightening and veins running cold. He feels his muscles, his skin, his very being tense, and then-

He suddenly feels as though he did a year ago. Plain. Empty. Magicless.

He stares forward at the old man before him, from the wrinkles in his skin to his graying hair. He knows Kerelas is strong in magic- far stronger than any mage he has ever met. But taking away his magic with no more than just a glance?

Basileios feels his grip tighten on the door handle, and he merely steps to the side with a small gesture of his free hand to welcome him inside. Not that he ever has a choice.

"I've chosen to remain on the move for now," He explains, not that he owes an explanation at all. "Otherwise I have to stay in disguise, and that is utterly exhausting." He finds himself squinting against the darkness, moving towards the table with a newfound caution. It's been quite some time since he hasn't been able to see clearly through the dark, and it's strange. It feels as though he doesn't have feet or hands or-

Kerelas lights the candle, and Basileios lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

He sits across the table from the doctor, still with the perfect posture of his noble upbringing. Some habits are terribly hard to shake.

At Kerelas' question, he rests his arm on the table, pulling back his sleeve to expose the healed bite in his skin- a black, bumpy scar in its place.

"I believe I was immune," He says, though there is a waver to his voice no matter how hard he tries to keep it steady. "I… I don't understand what happened. Corruption? Bad magic? The horrors…" The horrors he had witnessed, the ones he had killed… his fingers dig into the splintering wood of the table and he looks away, turning his gaze to the twisted branches of the bare trees outside the cracked window. He still dreams of their faces, their teeth, their blood-

He takes a breath.

"You survived it, no surprise there." He says more quietly. "Were you immune too?"