Chapter Text
BOOK 1: SEER:FATE
It's like surfacing from a deep, dark lake. Except, when Yuuri finally starts to come to consciousness, it's still pitch black. There are small indiscernible flashes of light in his vision - his brain trying to make sense of what's around him despite no visual cues. His blood rushes hard and thick past his ears, making everything sound like static. He'd think he'd lost his senses if not for the stale, copper taste of blood in his mouth and the heavy cool metal around his ankles. The heavy pounding of his headache only intensifies the worst parts of what he's feeling.
Alright. So. He's somewhere dark. And damp. (If the musty smell is anything to go by.) And he's… chained up? At least, that's his best guess as to what the weight dragging his legs down is.
He blinks, hoping to get a bit more information if his eyes adjust to the inky swirls around him. He lets out an involuntary rasping cough, tasting more blood. Fantastic.
He tries to think about what exactly happened. His memory is hazy and all that's coming to mind is muffled sounds and fuzzy colours. Figure out what happened later. Find out what's happening now. That's the most pressing issue. He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, although it isn't really working. The more he realizes he doesn't know, the more he starts panicking.
He pushes up from the cold damp floor, hands scraping by stone and metal. Okay. Yes. Those are chains around his ankles that…. yes, if he follows them with his hands, are not only attached to each other, but also lead to an O-ring attached to the ground. Fantastic. (Not.)
He leans to the side, letting the wall next to him support his weight. “Calm down, Yuuri. Calm down,” he tells himself. He counts himself through his breaths in and out. After his pulse has evened out and he's focussed on his breathing for long enough to clear most of the panic, he finally decides to face the issue: where in the Twelve Kingdoms is he?
He feels confident that he's calm enough to try the smallest bit of magic without it feeding off his insecurities. He tries not to think about how the magic could turn on him if he’s not composed.
With a quick huff of air through his teeth, he gently dips into the magic he can always feel coursing past him and uses it to spark a tiny flame to life in the palm of his hand. It flickers bright ruby red, almost blinding because his eyes are accustomed to the unending black from before. The heat warms his chilled body but doesn't scorch his palm, so the magic must be happy with him today, or perhaps he's calmer than he first thought.
Unfortunately, the flame also illuminates his nearby surroundings. He was right about the chains. And he was right about the stone. He holds his hand out to shed light further. And that's all it is. Stone. As far as he can see. (Which isn’t very far, honestly.) Rough, chipped, stone. Not blocks, but not natural formation either. Rough-hewn stone, chiselled enough so it's flat enough to walk on, or to lay on, but not done with mastery.
The wall beside him is the same: rough and unyielding. More unnerving is the fact he can't see any other walls. Nothing to indicate how large a space he's in. If he concentrates, he can hear water drips from far away. So perhaps it's not a small prison cell like he'd first assumed. But then, why the chains?
His anxiety flares up, and so does the flame in his hand. He curls in on himself, cupping the flame with his other hand, whispering calming words to both the magic he's using and to himself. He can't panic now. If he panics, he can't use magic. And if he can't use magic, he can't get out of here. And he WILL get out of here.
He finds a divot in the floor and gently lays the small flame inside, coaxing it with more magic and some kind words to make it content enough to flicker happily outside of his palm.
Yuuri waits, staring into the red flame, trying his best to think of anything but his situation, until his eyes protest. At least the front of him is warm, even if his back is chilled. He'd make another flame if he could, but he doesn't think his mind is settled enough to do it safely.
Tentatively, while whispering calming words to himself, he reaches down his leg slowly towards the chains. He trembles when his fingers touch the metal cuffs around his ankles, but he doesn't panic. He dips back into the flow of magic, trying to heat the metal. If he can free himself, he’s one step closer to getting out of here. Except the cuffs don’t heat.
He knows he’s doing it right. It’s simple magic: something he learned as a child. Besides, he was able to produce a flame not moments ago. But while his palms are feeling glowing-hot, the metal cuffs seem to rebuke him, staying as cold and heavy as ever.
Magic-resistant.
Yuuri swallows heavily, panic rising in a quick and unrelenting wave. It feels like he can’t breathe. He wonders if maybe he’s used up all the oxygen. The flame he’s set to the side flickers ominously, threatening to plunge him back into darkness. His bottom lip trembles as he draws in one wheezing breathe after another. Don’t panic. (DON’T PANIC.)
Magic-resistant objects are few and far between. There are cuffs like these in royal dungeons for the truly terrible magic-users that need to be kept away from the world. But Yuuri? He’s just a simple Mage. A late-blooming one, too. It took him ages to get past his apprenticeship. He doesn’t have a strong enough hold over magic to be considered a threat worthy of magical restraints.
Besides, what has he done to deserve this?
He can’t even remember what lead him to this point. It’s still all so hazy. The last thing he remembers is Phichit- Phichit! Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit. His panic becomes more oppressive.
“Phichit?” He calls out into the darkness. And then immediately regrets it because while he desperately hopes that his best friend is somewhere out there and can help him, he still doesn’t know where he is and who else might be listening.
There’s a low rumble in response.
It comes from much farther away. It’s rumble that isn’t really a sound, but rather the magic around him rippling and twisting in an unfamiliar way - affected by whatever’s out there in such a visceral way that it’s moving, unbidden, in reaction. Almost like the magic is panicking just like Yuuri.
He clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the terrified sob that’s creeping up his throat. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes and his heart is thundering so loudly in his chest that he’s sure that even if whatever’s out there doesn’t already know where he is, the blood pumping through his body will give him away.
He doesn’t know what to do. “Help me,” he pleads in his head. His prayers have never been answered by any of the Spirits before, but if there were a time to be taken pity upon, now would be it.
“Wha-” a whisper flows across him. It feels like an autumn breeze: crisp and cool, but it definitely sounds like a voice.
He freezes, turning slowly around. (Is something there? Something’s there, isn’t it? It’s come to eat him.) All he can really think is that all those years he spent learning magic will be wasted. He’ll never amount to anything more than a tasty snack.
“I’m going to die,” he thinks. He knows he’s done this to himself. It’s because he’s so weak that he’s fallen into this inescapable situation. And he’s sure that whatever’s out there in the darkness is going to kill him.
“Who are-” The whisper flows in and out, like it’s rushing past him, never quite reaching, and he can barely pick up on the words. “-are you- I’m- don’t-”
Yuuri folds in on himself, face buried in his knees. He doesn’t want to see what’s coming for him. If he’s going to die, he’d rather it be quick. He sits there quivering, the chill of the floor seeping deep into his bones. The magical growl has him so terrified of the swirling magic around him that he doesn’t dare dip into it to make another flame. And even if he doesn’t want to go back to complete darkness, he has a fleeting thought that he should extinguish the flame beside him so it isn’t even drawing that slight bit of magic to feed itself.
He loves magic, but sometimes he thinks that it might be better to cut himself off from it entirely.
“Are- there?” The whisper slides past him again. He presses his hands over his ears, hoping that it might block out the voice. If it’s a Yokai trying to ensnare him, it’s better he doesn’t listen.
“Please don’t let me die,” he thinks desperately. He doesn’t even dare use magic to try to protect himself. He’s too panicked to use it properly, and whatever was out there disturbing the magic in such a large way, he knows he isn’t strong enough to beat.
This is what it’s come down to. The same anxiety that held him back for years from making the transition from apprentice to Mage is going to hold him back from fighting for his life. It’s always been his greatest foible.
"-Calm-" The whisper comes again. And despite Yuuri's hands covering his ears, it hasn't muffled the voice at all. It makes him the opposite of calm. He knows he's crying. Even if he wants to be quiet, his body is betraying him. He can only do so much to stifle his sobs into the fabric of his pants.
"I'm sorry," he thinks. "Mom, Dad, Mari, Phichit. I'm sorry." He's tried so hard to become someone they can be proud of - someone he can be proud of. But in his most desperate hour, he still can't find the courage.
“Who?” The shadows whisper to him.
He doesn't answer out loud, but tells himself, "I'm Yuuri Katsuki, and I'm going to die alone."
"Yuuri." The voice becomes more than a whisper. It seems to coalesce with his name.
He knows he didn't speak out loud. Maybe the Yokai (is that what's out there?) can read minds. If that's the case, then he really doesn't stand a chance.
"Yuuri, please calm down," the voice comes across fairly clearly. The tone is warm and steady. He wonders why something that wants to eat him would want him to calm down?
"I can't," he thinks.
"You can," the voice tells him, still with a low, firm tone. "Just listen to my voice. Breathe."
It sounds so sincere. Yuuri's sure he can't trust the voice. (Why would anyone want to help him?) But what other choice does he have? He takes two trembling inhales.
"Yuuri," It says again, a warm inflection on the vowels. "I'm here for you."
The honeyed voice smoothes over the worst of his panic. Whatever is speaking to him sounds sincerely like it wants to help. And right now, he'll take it. Anything that might help him out of this situation, any support he can get, he'll gladly take it, even if it means his eventual demise. Nothing can be worse than feeling like this - like his heart is constricting so tightly it'll kill him.
"Yuuri? Can you hear me?" The voice asks.
"Yes," he thinks tentatively, still hesitant about saying anything out loud, especially if he's unsure whether the voice and the faceless fear in the darkness are the same.
"Good, good," the placidity the voice is projecting goes a long way to drag him towards the same feeling. "Can you tell me anything about where you are? What's happening?"
He slowly lifts his face up from his knees, eyes still squeezed shut. There's a red glow through his eyelids from the flame beside him. Surprisingly it hasn't gone out during his panic attack.
"Dark," he thinks.
"Dark." The voice muses. "If I were there I could-, but no."
"Alone," the thinks as well.
"You're not alone. I'm here. I'll be here for as long as you need me," the voice says. He doesn't know how that's possible. Yuuri still doesn't know if that's something he wants. But the voice is calming, so he doesn't want it to leave just yet.
With as much confidence as he can muster, he slowly opens his eyes.
It's the same as before. The rough stone is all around him. He's still chained. And his small flame is flickering slowly beside him, illuminating only the small area around him, with blackness stretching beyond.
"I don't know where I am," he thinks.
"Can you describe it?" The voice asks. It doesn't sound like it's coming from far away. In fact, it sounds like they're right next to him.
"Dark. A cave, probably. Or a dungeon. I don't know," he tries to tell the voice.
"Okay," the voice soothes again, probably because his panic is evident even in the tone of his thoughts.
"I made a small fire, but I can't see anything but rock."
"You made a fire?" The voice sounds intrigued, a little excited even. "With your hands, or magic?"
"Magic," Yuuri confirms. "I'm a Mage." He doesn’t tack on a ‘sorry excuse for one’, even though he feels he should.
"Wonderful," the voice is a little breathy. "I can work with that. Yuuri, do you know how to make light? Not fire, but light."
"Yes, " he thinks, "But I made the fire instead because it's cold and wet." It also helps Mage’s are aligned with fire - it’s the easiest of the elements for them to manipulate.
"Okay. Do you think you could make light as well as the flame?"
Yuuri hesitates. He's a Mage - he should easily be able to do multiple pieces of magic at the same time. But he's still shaken. "I don't know if the magic will follow my will," he admits. He wonders if the voice knows magic too.
"Well, if you're a Mage, it should be easy, right? It shouldn't be difficult to produce fire and light at the same time. They're related, so it won't be much different than pulling the magic to make fire, and we already know you can do that."
Yuuri uncurls a little more. His eyes flick over to the flame, then out into the darkness. Does he really want to know what's out there, though? Does he really want to know how terrible a situation he's in? What if he disturbs whatever's out there?
"I don't know if it's safe," Yuuri thinks instead of saying that he still doesn't trust himself enough to try more than the simplest of magic.
"Is there anyone there with you?" The voice asks. Apparently, it doesn't have any knowledge of Yuuri or where he is. So maybe they're not here with him. Or maybe it's just playing tricks. He tries to ignore the part of him that thinks it still might be a Yokai playing with its food.
"I don't know," Yuuri answers honestly. "I think there's something.... big. Powerful. Out there somewhere."
He can almost hear the deep inhale the voice takes. (Does a disembodied voice need air? Are they a Spirit? Are they even on this plane of existence?) "Alright. So maybe nothing flashy. Just in case. Any other immediate dangers?"
"No," Yuuri thinks. Because, although he doesn't know where he is, while he's chained up and his head is still feeling fuzzy, something lurking in the dark waiting to eat him is a much more pressing matter.
“That’s good,” the voice actually sounds relieved. “Can you… is there anything you can tell me about where you might be, or why you might be there?” The tentativeness in the voice that’s been so strong and calm almost makes Yuuri think that whoever it is might be worried about the answer.
“No,” he answers truthfully. “I don’t remember anything. It’s all fuzzy. Last thing I remember was…” he pauses, thinking back. It’s still hazy, and thinking about it makes his head throb.
He does remember Phichit, though. He remembers the peat smell of forest floor, the gentle psithurism as the backdrop for melodic bird songs, the all-consuming serenity of being quiet in nature. He remembers Phichit next to him, searching through the underbrush for a specific mushroom he needed for a new potion he’s been wanting to try. And then. Nothing.
The voice is, thankfully, quiet as he tries to pull at the threads of his memory.
“...Sorry,” he thinks. He just can’t remember anything. “I remember being in the forest, and that’s about it. Nothing to suggest where I am or why I’m here. I don’t… I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve this.”
“It’s okay,” The voice is quiet, then seemingly perks up, “whatever happened, let’s make sure you’re safe, and then you can worry about the past.”
“Are you a Yokai? Or a Spirit?” Yuuri asks without really thinking. He really wants to know what’s talking to him - trying to help him out. It’s unusual for a stranger to be so kind.
“What? No. I’m Victor.”
Yuuri sputters a little. “Victor?” he thinks.
“Oh, maybe you didn’t hear my name earlier. I’m Victor. I’m a Mage like you, Yuuri.” The voice is even clearer now, as if sharing their names has solidified the connection between them.
Mage Victor. He immediately thinks of him. The silver-haired man he’s admired for nigh on a decade. The one person that swayed him enough he decided to become a Mage instead of a Witch. But no. It can’t be. There are plenty of Mages in the Twelve Kingdoms, and a few of them must be named Victor. There’s no chance that it would be the same one he’s been pining after - that he’s been working up the courage (and magic) to meet in person - the only other Mage he’d be happy to learn from.
Still. He wonders what other Mage might be powerful enough to talk with him like this. And why. He’s still wary of this stranger, but they seem genuinely interested in helping him. And the name relaxes him more than he’d expect.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Victor asks him.
Yuuri uncurls a little more, moving so his back is to the stone wall - a way of protecting himself just a little. The flame beside him flickers happily now, as if pleased by the way the magic is moving around him. He does a quick mental check of his body. His body aches. His joints are stiff, probably from both the cold and from how tense his panic attack made him. He can still taste the small amount of blood in his mouth, but he thinks it may just be because of a split lip. He’s hungry. But that’s secondary to his headache.
He reaches up and feels at the back of his head where the pain is localized. Oh. A bump. Maybe even a laceration, if the stickiness he can feel back there is blood. No wonder he’s feeling so foggy. If he was hit hard enough, it’s no surprise he doesn’t remember how he got here. A concussion could be bad for his magic. Maybe that’s why everything feels so dull and muted. It does seem to be harder for him to reach out to the magic around him, despite how clearly he can remember his incantations.
Maybe the bump on his head has allowed him this new, strange, form of communication.
“Sore,” he finally answers Victor, knowing they’re waiting for his answer. “And a headache. Maybe a concussion. Not entirely sure. But no broken bones.”
Victor makes a humming noise. “I’m a good Mage, but my experience with healing is sorely lacking, I’m afraid. I'll look into it - see if I can't find anything that you might be able to use."
If Phichit were here, he'd be able to heal Yuuri without a problem. Phichit's the more useful out of the two of them.
Victor doesn't seem to be privy to his musings, as he keeps talking, so Yuuri at least figures there’s a barrier between his rolling, anxiety-inducing thoughts and the man (Yuuri knows he's assuming, but the name and lower vocal register suggest it) who's helping him. "Are you able to stand?"
"I guess," Yuuri responds, but makes no move to get to his feet.
"Do you think you could walk around a bit? Maybe see a bit more of where you are? The more I know, the better I can help you," Victor says, although he now sounds a little distracted.
"No," Yuuri shakes his head, looking down towards the cuffs on his ankles.
"No?" Victor questions. "Are you too dizzy?"
"Yes. No. I mean-" Yuuri cuts himself off. "I just can't," he says. He doesn't need to broadcast that he's completely immobilized.
"Yuuri," Victor sounds a little frustrated, "I'm trying to help you, but you need to help me. I understand less of what's happening than you do."
He wants to ask 'why?', why are they helping him? But he's too scared of the answer. "I'm chained to the floor," he responds instead.
"Oh! Well, that's easy to fix!" Victor sounds excited. "I'm assuming it's not with rope because your flame would have made short work of that, so, if it's metal, the spell for that would be-"
"I already tried," Yuuri cuts him off. "They're magic-resistant. I'm not getting out of them." He cuts back on the 'I already said I was going to die here' quip he has ready. There's no reason to make the only person (thing?) willing and able to help him pissed off.
“Magic-resistant cuffs?” Victor sounds impressed.
There's a thick silence for a few moments, and Yuuri almost worries that Victor has disappeared. Even if he's unable to help Yuuri, it was still nice to have a little companionship.
"Okay," Victor's voice comes again, sounding a little breathless. "I- I think I might know something for that, actually. How long did you say you've been there for?"
"Dunno. I woke up not that long ago."
"So, recently. Not.... days? Months? Years, even?" Victor asks.
"No. I don't think it's been that long."
"Wow," Victor says in a whoosh of air. “Yuuri, you only keep surprising me.”
It sounds like a compliment. But is it? Yuuri doesn’t feel like he’s anything to be surprised about. Maybe Victor is surprised at how useless he is.
"Well, let's not waste time," Victor seems to compose himself. "Can you try a little bit of magic?"
Yuuri thinks about what might be out there in the dark, but at this point, with his flame still beside him, if nothing's attacked him yet, then maybe he isn't a target. It's not like a Yokai would have the need for magical-restraints. "Okay," he agrees finally.
"I know a spell specifically for dark caves, actually," Victor blusters on, "if you can use it, then I think you'll get a pretty good look around. And in the meantime, I'll see if I can't figure out something that might work for your head."
“I don’t have my glasses,” Yuuri thinks before he can stop himself.
“Glasses?” Victor asks, startled.
“My eyesight isn’t the best. But it’s okay! I can still see. Just some of the further things are fuzzy. I can manage without.”
“Do you need them right now? Because-”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Yuuri thinks, blushing. There wasn’t really any reason to tell Victor about his eyesight. It will be good enough for a cave, he’s sure. He needs to think before… thinking. He ignores the thought that Phichit would be able to offer a temporary spell to ease the strain on his eyesight.
Yuuri waits patiently for Victor to tell him the spell he needs. He could, of course, try a simple lighting spell. But it won't reach far.
"Oh!" Victor's voice perks up again. "Right, I forgot to tell you the spell." The word for the spell comes, but it's not in Victor's voice. It's that weird pronunciation that sits strangely on the tongue: sounds a human probably shouldn't be able to produce, but magic makes possible. Yuuri's never heard the spell before, but after all the studying he's done, he understands the basics of it, how it was formed, and what its purpose probably is. It's an ingenious bit of spellwork, to be honest. He wonders if it's something from a book he's never read, or maybe something Victor's produced himself. Memorizing spellwork is one thing, but producing it? That's Sorcerer-level. He tries not to think of who Victor might be.
He closes his eyes briefly, feeling the magic swirling around him again. It's calm - like the slow-flowing river he's used to. Whatever disturbed it before isn't doing it now. As he forms the spell Victor's given him, the magic rushes up to greet him. It moves without resistance, bound to the form and shape that Yuuri's asking of it. The spell is flawless. It's easy. And more importantly, the magic seems happy to bend to the spell’s whim. A spell this beautiful should be something every Mage knows.
As the last syllable flows from Yuuri's lips, his eyes open to see the final product.
There's a large ball of light sitting in his palms. Bigger and brighter than any light magic he'd been thinking of casting. It's a silver-white light that's hard to look at.
He's not even thinking about his previous fears of what might be out in the dark; he's too caught up in the beauty of the spell. The magic around him happily feeds the light, flowing in and through it without a care. It's soft and warm, much like Victor's voice.
He gently releases it from his palm, gently pushing it upwards. He doesn't even need to whisper placating words to it, or ask it to follow where he wants it to go - it just knows what he wants it to do. It floats gently upwards and out from him.
He watches it with squinted eyes. It lifts up almost 30 feet, and then he can see where it hits the stalactite of the ceiling. So. He's in a cave. That's already more information than he previously had.
But the light doesn't stop there. It floats away from him, bouncing against the rough cave ceiling. And then, when it's quite a ways away, it seems to burst. It gives off a blinding white light that Yuuri has to throw his arm up to shade his eyes against. And then it splits into hundreds of white lights, spreading outwards from the original orb.
When Yuuri's eyes finally adjust from the brief flash, he can see the final form of the spell. Hundreds of dancing lights spread throughout the space - hovering at irregular intervals, almost like fireflies dancing in the night, but the light produced is so much more than that.
Soft light fills the space, giving him a clear view of where he is. It's more than just a cave - that's clear now. All his worries about his predicament fade away in replacement of awe. It's gorgeous. The cave is huge - it stretches farther than the lights have spread. The stalactites hanging from the ceiling are long and impressive and reach down towards the most spectacular lake.
It's almost as if Yuuri's sitting on a man-made shore - the edge of the water is just over an arm's reach away. It's perfectly still, almost like glass, reflecting the dancing lights and formations above it and making the cavern seem infinitely larger than it is. Almost like Yuuri is adrift in space among stars.
One of the lights comes close to him, slowly meandering in a path only it knows. He lightly touches it - sending it on its way back out towards the others.
"Wow," he thinks. He doesn't feel like he has the words to describe what he's seeing.
"What is it, Yuuri?" Victor's voice is still there, smooth as it has been.
"I'm in a cave," Yuuri tells him. "A big one. With an underground lake."
"Really?" Victor sounds as surprised as Yuuri is.
"I thought I might be in a dungeon, or something similar," Yuuri admits to him, "because I'm sitting on rock I'm sure was smoothed by human hands. But it seems like this is the only part that's been reformed." Around him are bigger formations, both rolling and jagged rocks. Some stalagmites further down are large and reach up towards their partners, looking as if they're made from melted candle wax. To his left it seems like a small path emerges. It's barely discernible from the rest of the cave rock, but it's smoother, worn down where the rest of the rocks are untouched. It looks different from its neighbouring limestone.
"Can you see anything else? " Victor prompts him after a few moments of Yuuri's silence.
"Maybe a path?" Not that he's able to use it, but at least it suggests there's a way out of here.
"Anyone? Anything?" Victor tries to clarify.
Yuuri finally remembers his original worry - that something dark and powerful was in here with him, but when he turns out towards the lake, even with all the lights dancing around, he can't see anything moving in the dark. More to the point, nothing's attacked him. So maybe he imagined the way the magic twisted? No. He's always been very attuned to the streams and vines of magic flowing past him. Even in a state of panic he doubts he would have hallucinated the strange way the magic twisted.
At least he doesn't seem to be in immediate danger. "No. I think I'm alone in here," Yuuri tells Victor.
"You're not alone, you still have me," Victor responds, but he sounds relieved.
"Thank you," Yuuri thinks. Having support, even if it's someone unknown and unseen to him, is more than he could have hoped for in this situation. And it means even more to him that Victor's given him this useful lighting spell.
"It's my pleasure, Yuuri," his voice rumbles.
Yuuri's not a very tactile person, but at this moment, he wishes that Victor could be there beside him, physically, so he at least would have something to hold onto.
"Was that spell easy for you? Or difficult?" Victor asks him.
"Easy," Yuuri admits. Easier than a lot of spells he knows. Despite being a new spell for him it still felt warm and familiar. And the magic seemed to like it as well. Or maybe it liked the way Yuuri felt about it.
"Wonderful," Victor replies. "Do you think you could try another one?"
"Another light spell?" Yuuri questions. There's enough light for now. What he needs is a way to get out of these cuffs.
"No. It's a fire spell. It'll work on the flame you already made. It's still around, right?"
"Yes," Yuuri's eyes go to the small fire that's still flickering away in a groove on the floor. It looks small and weak compared to all the glittering lights around him.
"Good. This should be just as easy. It's another one of mine. A favourite, even." Victor gives him the spell again. The sounds flowing smoothly across whatever communication it is they have.
Yet again, Yuuri immediately understands how it's been constructed and how it will force magic to bend to his will. It's elegant in its simplicity.
He carefully scoops up the flame beside him back into his palm, nursing it with calming words again as it flickers when he moves it too fast as if it were as weak as the flame on a match-head.
He gives it Victor's spell, whispering the incantation that was recited to him. The flame immediately changes to a deep blue with a hot white at its center. It looks as if it could be ice-cold, but it's hotter than before. Hotter than any flame he's produced previously. It seems to require even less of his attention, happy to dance in his palm and provide an excess of heat to him and the damp rocks around him.
"That's a really nice spell, Victor," he compliments. "It's so warm even when it looks so cold."
"Good. You must have done it perfectly then, Yuuri." Victor praises him, even though he can't see the product of Yuuri's spellwork.
Yuuri tries not to flush with the praise, so he busies himself with setting the new flame down in the same groove on the floor. It's taking the chill off his skin easily and he readily appreciates the help Victor's given him so far.
"Is there anything else you need right now?" Victor asks, voice soft.
"I don't think so," Yuuri answers. Nothing that Victor can give him, at least.
It's quiet for a bit, and Yuuri's left wondering how and when their communication might be cut off. He'd rather not be alone right now, not when just Victor's voice alone has done wonders to keep him from stressing.
He wants to start working on a plan on how to get out of here, but with the magical-restraints, the only workaround he's been able to come up with is amputating both his feet. And, as he's already so helpfully noticed, he's not good enough at healing magic to be able to survive that. At least, not enough he'd be able to get out of the cave.
He can feel his anxiety bubbling up again, so, hoping that Victor's still there, he reaches out with his thoughts again. "Victor?"
"Hmm?" Is the reply.
"Do you... could you tell me a little about yourself?" Yuuri asks. If he's focussing on Victor's voice, then it's less likely he'll get caught in an anxiety-inducing loop of thoughts.
"Oh!" Victor jumps right in without hesitation. "When I was five, there was this tree that I really wanted to climb, but at the time I was too short to reach the first branch, which, of course, isn't a problem now, but back then it seemed like the biggest obstacle. So, naturally, I devised a plan. Oh, I should mention, that at that age, although I was terrible at magic, as any five-year-old should be, I still had some degree of control over it. Although, my first lover, which I had at age sixteen, would say that I was too controlled, but that shouldn't matter to you because of course, I have just the right amount of control now. Completely controlled, of course. It's not like I just let magic control me. But I am more free when making new spells. There's a kind of uncontrolled action about that, isn't there? But speaking of uncontrolled, Georgi, now there's someone that is far too free with what he gives away. He loves like there is no tomorrow. He finds it much easier than everyone else, I think. But that's a little romantic too, isn't it? Not that Georgi can read the signs of romance well. I suppose you don't know him, though. So it's more like.... did you ever read that child's book? The one about the cat that..."
As Victor rambles on, never quite reaching a point, or finishing any of his thoughts, Yuuri finds his mind whirling slowly trying to follow him. But it doesn't last long. Although he's only been awake for a short while, a lot has happened, and he feels drained. The lump on the back of his head probably isn't helping any either. So, it's no wonder that he's overcome by lassitude and slowly drifts off to sleep.