He gasped- everything burned- where was he- he coughed- he gasped again and felt air enter his lungs- he started breathing desperately, panting for breath as his dry mouth sucked in air like a fish out of water, and much like a fish flopping hopelessly on dry land; every breath that he took felt like pouring fire down his throat, cooking his lungs and giving him a headache that's bad enough to go through his lightheadedness, the pain drilled through the numbness with the effectiveness of a worm swimming across mud.

Another gasp- everything was becoming clearer now, he remembered something- Port? No- Protection- his right hand moved and his eyes trailed down to his neck- there!- A necklace, it was- it was- he couldn’t feel it- the enchantments inside were now dead but he could feel it pulsing with a power that was starting to wane-

He gasped-

What's happening?

What happened?

Questions like that came up at the forefront of his hazy mind as he removed his hand from his neck and found the ground, he flinched at the sudden heat that invaded his palm. He tried again and hissed, sending fire to move through his lips and out his mouth.

He moved, forcing himself to push against the ground and the pain, he grit his teeth from the pain as his palm dug itself into the dirt, the heat overpowered his senses and was the only thing that is on his mind at that very moment- it was hot, his hand felt hard to move-

Then it disappeared- slowly- his nerves died out one by one, the searing heat lessened with each nerve that burned away and the pain lessened more when the skin of his palm melted and got flayed off.

He heaved when he finally stood, only to stumble as his weakened knees gave out- below, he felt that the soles of his feet were starting to experience heat- he looked down, his hazy vision allowing him to take a glimpse of brown boots and a robe, and on his neck, he spotted a slag of molten silver hanging, burning through his clothes and digging deep into his skin, his breath hitched and pain suddenly erupted inside his chest, it forced him to take a suck in heated air that burnt his lungs and expanded it to the point of hitting his ribs- bone met flesh and he started heaving, gagging- small actions that threatened his life and made him want to pry his lungs out of his chest.

He started coughing and blood poured out of his mouth, spilling out of his lips and into the dirt, where it proceeded to boil and bubble before turning into a chunk of black charcoal.

He wiped his lips and forced his feet to take a step forward, instinct driving him more than anything. He knew that the situation he found himself in wasn't safe, really, if anything, it was the complete opposite: wherever he was, his barely functioning mind recognized it as something dangerous. Whatever happened here, whatever happened to him, none of those are important-

- he needed to move.

And that was what he did, he moved- he did not know for how long he walked nor how much distance he covered, the only thing that was on his mind was to move away from the scorching heat, to stop walking on burnt ground and smoldering leaves- to save his foot before the bottom of his boots peeled off and his soles got exposed.

He was worried- scared of the pain and that fear helped his body persist and keep moving even as the things that he feared came true- that his boots would disappear and his feet started to burn, melting away yet continuing to move from the burning land of charred trees, molten rocks, and sand that had been turned to glass.

Hell. It was the only thing that he could describe everything around him. Hell.

Wherever he was, it was more akin to a wretched place that is supposedly nothing more than a myth used to put little kids to sleep.

The pain that assaulted his body never ceased even as everything around him cooled down, it had been what?..

…He did not know- he did not know how long he moved- his thoughts were a jumbled mess, and his body felt like it would collapse should he let it.

And wasn't that a tempting thought? Just... give up and stop moving- never again would he feel this much pain, it would be so easy, he just needed to- to-

Yavneck grit his teeth as he pushed his legs to continue moving despite the pain, if he was oh-so-willing to give up his life, then he should also be willing to bear through something as mundane as pain.

His jaw and teeth started to ache from biting too hard, but he kept moving because the land around him is now cool, and by extension, so were his feet, and bit by bit, his mind cleared and his senses came back.

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Soon his head started to feel less of a burden now that a small amount of clarity had gone back and in exchange, his mind now started to process his situation, inviting pain as cold air struck his cooked skin, it felt as though salt was poured down his wounds.

All the while, his clearer head took all of it in with such precision and clarity that it would make [Seer]s weep from how accurately Yavneck felt his body.

And what absolute horse shit this body is, such a frail and pathetic thing- and knowing the fact that pain is there to do nothing but remind him that it is damaged and should rest did not ease his thoughts and desires of wanting to replace it.

He knew that the pain is a reminder, so why couldn't it disappear? Let him continue to walk and move away from the cause of it? Human bodies and the idiotic way they process things-

Yavneck groaned, he was starting to think like Cego- wait, that's it! He started cupping the clothes underneath his burnt robe, searching for something, a glass bottle of- he felt something and pulled it out, snapping the belt it was attached to but the action nevertheless got the bottle off his body and in front of Yavneck's face, where he then proceeded to uncork it before gulping down the blue liquid inside.

Strength filled his body and Yavneck felt himself get stronger, the way his muscles became alive and magically dense almost made him want to go back and find Cego's corpse so that he can kiss him but that would just put him back into that hell. And by this point, his head is clear enough that emotions and instinct wouldn’t be the sole driving factor of his actions, logically, he didn’t want to go back just so that he could act on a perverted gesture of thanks to a corpse that had most likely been evaporated by… whatever happened back there.

Out of curiosity, Yavneck turned his head around once, and he instantly regretted that decision; simply put, everything behind him was some form of fire and even though he can feel the Faes of the forest doing their best and succeeding in suppressing the fire to stop it from spreading any further, Yavneck still didn't feel safe when staring at it. A primal fear told him that he shouldn’t go back and each second spent staring at the burning trees only made that fear stronger, all of it is nothing more than a reminder of an experience he vowed to never go through ever again.

He sucked in a deep breath, the pain of doing so had considerably lessened thanks to the effects of Cego's strength potion.

Would it be fitting to say that him looking away from the burning forest is a metaphor for him moving on from the experience? - Yavneck wondered.

Though, he does know the answer- most likely not. He would keep this memory burned to his mind, which really felt like violating himself as he compared it to willingly putting his mind to go through the fiery hell that charred his body.

And yet, it served as a reminder, a lesson.

With his newly found strength of will, Yavneck's feet carried him to a place far away from Yarya, the mage's chosen village. The more he walked however, the more the effects of the strength potion waned and as time went on, the feeling of pain came back like a wildfire, the heat washed over him, making the blisters in his skin known and the ashes in his lungs evident. He coughed and blood came out of his mouth.

Water, he needed water- where-

Yavneck faced the direction of the only river in this area, he knew that the mage's windmill was upstream of said river and the small chance that he might be searching for Yavneck using a small boat was small, abysmal even, but it was still a chance.

…Yavneck didn't care, he pushed himself even as the pain started to come back- Cego's research of the potion, as brilliant as it was, had been ultimately cut off and was only the start of what he could accomplish, so it was safe to say that whatever he gave Yavneck had been nothing more than a prototype, something that would be more akin to a start of what his potion is capable of rather than the final product. For shame that Yavneck couldn't be bothered to listen to him whenever he ranted about the damn thing, it would've been really useful if he could somehow replicate it.

Though, with the small tidbits of information that he had, if he did try recreating it, it would take him years of research before he can even reach the stage of the prototype that he drank.

For shame.

Not that there’s any harm in occasionally doing that type of research.

And thinking about the potion's recipe as he moved towards the river wouldn't be so bad right? Anything to distract him from the pain he was feeling would be a godsend at the moment, and thus, thoughts like that occupied his mind as he walked, and it worked wonders to make him forget about the current state of his body.

And as Yavneck had hoped, thinking about recreating the potion had been so effective in keeping his mind distracted that he didn't even realize that he was near the river until the sounds of roaring water entered his ears, snapping his mind back into the present.

The Potion disappeared from his thoughts as Yavneck hurried to the bank, uncaring about the wounds on his body nor the infection that he would get from touching the river, he ignored the way the rocks of the river hindered him, the way the tiny pebbles bit into the flesh of his foot- going as far as continuing to keep the stones off his mind even when he stumbled against one and fell down to the ground- now on all fours, Yavneck scurried for water, his dry lips forcing him to parch a thirst he didn't know he had.

His hand reached out for water and started cupping it and he didn’t waste time- Yavneck started drinking and each gulp sent pleasure down his throat and up his spine, it was a godsend and he cared not for the pain overloading his senses, pouring water on burn wounds does that and it's not like he'd black out-

The world suddenly disappeared as Yavneck felt his body lose its strength and fall down the water.