As I lie in my bed,
terrified of what's happened to me
an incurable affliction, of that I've no doubt.
My throat is a drought, my mind a riot of symptoms:

Stupidity when you smile,
stuttering when you speak,
weakness and dizziness, an asthmatic gasp for air
when I hear your voice.

I'm impatient for your return,
addicted to your every breath.
And the scariest of all?
It persists even after death.

-Zephyl Da'Navi

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Sarapin, in the year 984 AF.