His Charisma
Kiefer knew when he had contracted the Weave.
He would suffer incessant nosebleed, raging headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations and occasionally lose consciousness.
Those were the major symptoms of the Weave.
These symptoms would continue for what seemed like forever.
Scraping away at his increasingly fragile mind, rendering every night more fearful than the last.
-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-
When the clock would strike midnight, his sheets could usually be found slick with sweat, sticking to his body and getting even more soaked.
Kiefer would try to move his limbs but they never really responded.
His eyelids were shut tightly as he couldn't even open them.
He would struggle and struggle one too many times to open them but they weren't exceptions in whatever was happening to him.
But his ears? His ears picked up every single sound that surrounded him. Sometimes, Kiefer would hear one too many voices speaking at the exact same time, that they began translating into bundles and bundles of gibberish.
His head ached terribly and he could do absolutely nothing about it.
Trauma.
While his eyes were shut, visions of vile and rabid monsters would charge at him from caves and clearings he could never quite make out. Their eyes, bloodshot, their teeth more like fangs dripping with crimson red blood, trying so desperately to rip the poor boy apart.
Trauma.
Kiefer would now and then try his hardest to wake himself up from the turbulent nightmare but it really did seem like the Weave hadn't had enough fun with him.
-•-•-•-
Kiefer would occasionally find himself tethering on the edge of the narrowest piece of boulder on what seemed to be a cliff.
Looking down, his eyes would widen and his face would contort with fear as molten magma thrashed turbulently just few inches below his feet, burning and scalding his feet repeatedly.
Then, all too suddenly, the cliff would melt and Kiefer would find himself falling back-first, his hands fluttering in the air, trying to grab onto whatever came into his grip to save himself.
A guttural scream would escape his lips and echo off the far walls as he plunged deep into the boiling magma.
-•-•-•-
He wakes up with a start every new day, his forehead slick with sweat, his nightwear damp and his hair even damper.
Soon, Kiefer didn't need a diviner to tell him the Weave was out for his heart.
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