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Power, coarse and dangerous, buzzes through his toes. In that moment, all Viktor can feel is a sparkling warmth that threatens to consume his being. The floor melds to the ridges of his feet, as if telling him welcome back .
The cane slips from his hands, slowly and surely. He lets it go, fingers unfurling to let it hit the floor. Water splashes against his ankles. He does not falter. The earth does not rise to meet his skin; the sky does not crash down upon him. His knees do not fail him.
Looking down, he sees his breath quaver into unsteady trails of mist, threading away from his mouth. The dusky blue sends everything into a disconnected dream. Slowly, Viktor looks up, eyebrows drawn. His reflection in the water mirrors him, expression set in a surprisingly vulnerable gaze towards the end of the dock.
Take a step .
His foot lifts up and hits the floor with a resounding clank , a feat hewn from the god’s forges, malevolently shuddering purple. The Shimmer races up his withered skin, stilling, absent of its usual erratic pulse. The chill of the water soaks into his bare feet.
He takes another breath, brow furrowing. This time, he looks down to see it happen. As if in a trance, he takes another rapid, uneasy step. His feet chase each other like two birds learning how to fly for once—haphazard. Joyous. Disbelieving. It feels like second nature despite it being the first time.
Viktor is hyper aware of his arms swinging naturally as he begins to pace faster. It’s instinctual—he’s seen Jayce do it all the time, but here it feels incredibly foreign and as equally natural .
The lights from the ships and stars begin to smear into blurs. He runs, really runs, and this time he does not fall. For the millions of times he has, perhaps it has all led up to this moment.
Wind guides his path. He closes his eyes, heart pumping, and yells.