* * *
Darkness turned into a
clear night sky. It glittered from all the stars shining down on the ground. A
big, round moon completed the image, slightly to the left of his view. He
looked down. In front of him was a peaceful, grassy meadow swaying delicately
in the wind. Trees bathed in darkness all around it, limiting his vision.
It reminded him of
home. It made him feel homesick. He never thought of home in such merry tones.
Until now. Why had he even left? He made a step forward, willing to enter the
meadow.
The ground, instead of
holding his weight, consumed him. He kept the meadow in sight for just a moment
before darkness overwhelmed him again in the endless yet silent drop.
* * *
What actually happened
was him taking a step down the stairwell while almost asleep, taken by the
spell. He learned that as he fell flat on the cobbles, still holding onto Shirral,
and landed on his wound. It sent a spike of pain through his entire body just
to remind him it was still there and not enjoying his lifestyle. He groaned
helplessly in response and tried to get up. The leg's pain very nearly
multiplied. He won't get far on foot, and the fire was already well beyond the
point of stopping with ordinary human means. He could see it in the distance,
at the end of the street. He didn't know if it made him feel good or bad about
it. He might have preferred to stay oblivious.
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