Through the Haze - Part Seven

Not everyone likes the hand they're dealt. It's just a roll of the dice, but sometimes, if we're lucky, we can change the course of our lives by rolling again or picking up another card. --Sanchelo Mufez, Book of Endings
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Friday, Azx 10, Keeleer Kermen's Reign, Mid Summer

I don't like this. I really don't. Ember's taken a turn for the worst, and I just...I don't know. The doctor hasn't said so in so many words, but I can see it in his face that he's not sure if Ember will live.

Ember has to live, he's my only friend...Yes, there, I said it, he's my friend. I've known him for so long, I'm not sure what it would be like if he were to die and not be here anymore. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'd be able to handle it.

He's my friend. He's done so much for me, he doesn't deserve to go like this. I wish I knew what's wrong with him, but I'm only twelve; how would I know? It's hard to stay in the house, knowing that your friend is dying in the next room over, just a few yards away.

I think it's driving me a wee bit mad, if I may be so bold. Living with this constant worry, wondering if Ember will be dead by the next time I go into his room...It's hard to deal with, to say the least.

If I knew what to do to help him, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but I don't know what to do...I don't know what's wrong with him, what's made him so ill.

I hate seeing him like this. He's always so pale, and he's never awake. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll ever wake up, or if he'll die without regaining consciousness. Those are horrid thoughts to think, but they keep popping into my mind, and I find them hard to ignore when they're so persistent.

I just hope he gets better. I pray every night before I go to bed that he doesn't die, that I won't find him dead when I check on him in the morning.

That would be the worst of all, finding him dead when I go to check on him. I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'll admit that.

I pray that doesn't happen.
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Isaac sighed heavily as he sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly fingering his glass, which was now empty, when previously it had held water. Ember wasn't getting better. Whatever had taken hold of him so suddenly was still gripping hard, and it seemed that it would never let go, or at least not in time. It seemed--even though Isaac was loathe to admit it--that it wouldn't let Ember go until he was dead and gone.

This put Isaac in a very sour mood, constantly worrying over the fate of his friend. Roo stopped by occasionally to see how they were doing, but Isaac could tell by the look on Roo's face when he left Ember's room that Ember wasn't getting any better. It just made him dwell on negative thoughts all the more, even though he hated doing so. Ember had always told him it was best to shove negative thoughts away and focus on the positive.

But here, he could think of no positive.

Was the positive being that Ember was still alive?

But then the negative overruled it by asking the simple question: for how much longer?

This hurt him very much to think about. In fact, it gave him a sharp pain between his eyes that was stubborn and refused to go away, no matter how much sleep her got or how much aspirin he took. The headache remained there.

The dreams were getting worse. He wasn't sure why he'd suddenly started getting terrible dreams, nightmares, but he was in no mood to question it. Ember was his main concern when he was awake, and the nightmares ruled his life while he slept.

He seemed trapped either way.
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Gabriel was running through a dark corridor, an icy chill chasing at his heels, his breath puffing out in a cloudy smoke, reminding him of the coldness he was trying so desperately to escape. No matter how fast he ran, though, the chill always seemed one step behind him.

"Go away!" he hissed. "Leave me alone, damn it!" he forced his legs to pump faster, but the chill only sped up to keep the pace. It was teasing him, he knew, and he had no way of stopping it. "What do you want? Go away!"

"I want...." the moaning voice groaned with the chill. "I want....your life..."

Gabriel growled. "You ain't gettin' it, at least not today!" he ran faster, rounding a corner quickly.
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Gabriel sat bolt upright, panting heavily, sweat beading his forehead. With wide, wild eyes, he gazed around his room in the small, one bedroom apartment he and Lou were sharing. He barely managed to stifle a yelp of surprise when he sat Loukoi sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him with a concerned expression.

"You okay, Gabe?" he asked, looking him over thoughtfully. "You were thrashing around. Woke me up. What's wrong? You're all pale."

Gabriel groaned inwardly. "Nothing," he said, his heart returning to normal. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all."

"Again?" asked Lou, looking rather worried. "That's the fifth time this week, Gabriel. Maybe you should go see someone about this."

Gabriel grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

"I'm just saying," said Loukoi, "that you're restless. You're not getting any sleep, and that's not good for you. When you are able to catch a few winks, you konk out on me and have these dreams that leave you lying in a puddle of your own sweat. What are these dreams about that have you so rattled?"

"...It's....It's not really what they're about, so much as the feel of them," he mumbled, looking down at his bedsheets. They seemed soaked through with his sweat.

"What does it feel like?" Lou wanted to know.

"Cold," Gabriel answered, his voice a low whispered. "Dreadfully, frighteningly cold."
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Isaac's eyes snapped open from his nightmare, and he sat upright too fast, falling over and out of bed, landing with a loud crash. Dazed, he half expected Ember to come walking in like he used to, but then remembered that Ember was on Death's doorstep, knocking to be let in. He shivered at the thought and crawled back into bed, pulling the covers around him at the sudden chill in the room.

"Why's it always so cold?" he whispered aloud, his eyes tightly closed. "Did someone leave the air on?"

But no, he knew this cold wasn't something other's could feel. This, alone, came only to him. The chill was his, and for him and no one else.

The chill had something to do with the gift, that much he was certain of.

Only he and two others could understand it. Maybe if he could find them, they'd be able to help him out a little.

Maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to help Ember.