*** ARN ***

Arn's small mukluks beat a quick patter through the snow. Garbed in a thick parka, he looked like a dark ball of fur with legs. He hurried after his older cousin, Kenon, who'd taken him into the forest against the wishes of Arn's mother.

The older boy was taller and wore his own parka more gracefully. The backpack he carried was nearly as large as Arn himself. His long, leisurely strides landed softly upon the snow, and he occasionally looked back at Arn to make sure that he was still following.

They'd only just begun, yet Arn was already panting. He hated having the weakness - or the fainting fever, as some called it.

"Exercise will help with your wea -" Kenon stopped himself, "ahem," he cleared his throat, "it'll make you stronger."

Arn saw the hint of pity in his cousin's eyes but appreciated the effort to conceal it. They all tried to hide the pity from him, but he could always tell by the narrow smiles, upturned eyebrows, and quick glances. He flashed a smile at Kenon - they liked it when he reassured them in this way.

Tall conifers loomed on either side of the road they followed, their branches heavy with pristine snow. Far in the distance were the pale blue Zekasar Mountains - stretching from horizon to horizon. The trees and the earth were oblivious to Arn's sickness; they didn't conceal their pity or treat him differently from anyone else.

Arn and Kenon soon approached a tall pine, and Kenon threw down his backpack. He stretched and jumped a few times, winked at Arn, then launched himself up the trunk. Arn noted the blue glow upon his cousin's hands as he climbed.

"There it is! The winter apples grandmother asked for," Kenon shouted. The older boy took out a knife and cut the branch with three of the large blue fruits. He held it out and let the branch drop.

Halfway to the ground, the branch began glowing faintly, and its descent slowed. It floated down to the snow no faster than a snowflake. Arn saw this happen before, but it always amazed him. He looked up at Kenon's glowing bracelet - the Tjoreal. The bracelet helped the wearer control Esarel - the energy within one's soul.

"I can't wait to have one," Arn said.

"Winter apple?" Kenon asked while descending the tree.

"No, silly! The Tjoreal bracelet," Arn giggled.

"Oh, really? Not the apples?" the older boy joked as he landed on the ground.

"No, I don't want the apples," Arn said and hurried after his cousin. They played out this same joke each time Kenon dropped the winter apples.

Kenon ran a short while ahead and hid behind a tree. He didn't do a very good job, for Arn saw the backpack sticking out. Still, he played along.

"My oh my, I'm all alone in the forest! My cousin ran away..." he cried, doing his best to contain a fit of giggles. He walked up closer to the tree, behind which his cousin hid.

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"BOO!" Kenon jumped out and launched at Arn, grabbing the boy in a bear hug.

The day stretched on, and Kenon had almost completed the gathering of ingredients when they came to a tall rockface that rose up above the trees.

"You know the drill," Kenon said, "wait here until I'm back - you can't follow me up there yet."

"I know," Arn said.

"Ok," Kenon said. "Here I go!" he added and launched himself up at the rocks. The older boy climbed quickly, aided by the blue glow of the Tjoreal as he was. Soon, Arn couldn't see his form. He knew that it would be some time before his cousin returned.

The forest is so quiet, Arn thought. It's always so quiet.

The wait for Kenon was the most boring part of the trip. Arn enjoyed the first few minutes of having the entire forest to himself, but just the first few minutes.

A flicker at the corner of the eye caught his attention. A faint bluish light shimmered in the distance. It was beautiful, like a piece of the sky that fell to the earth. He started towards the light without realizing what he was doing.

Arn recalled Kenon's warning to stay by the rockface, but the words seemed dull and distant in his mind. The light pushed them out and beckoned Arn forward. It grew as he approached until a tall shimmering dome towered over him. The light flowed and undulated, changing from blue to green and back to blue. It was beautiful and mesmerizing, and it called to Arn.

He took another step and felt a wave of soft goosebumps spread throughout his body. Arn felt the urge to touch the light, to be closer to it. He took one more step, and then another. His hand brushed the surface, sending a wave of tiny needles up to his elbow. He took one more step. Snow crunched under his mukluk, and the world around him flashed and shifted.

Pines extended in all directions. Unfamiliar pines. He stood in a forest, but not the one from a moment ago. This forest was quiet, still, beyond anything a natural forest aught to be. The green of the needles was muted, and the dark bark almost grey. The light around him was hazy and emanated from all directions at once. No shadows fell.

Arn looked up at strange stars that glittered in an inky black sky. He thought that he should be afraid, but this was only a thought. The emotion itself floated outside of him, sluggish, confused, unable to fully manifest in his mind. Surprise, too, hung at the edges of his consciousness.

He turned all the way around. The mountains were still there, though they seemed at once too far and too near. Something shifted to his right, he turned towards it, and his lips parted with the expectation of awe and fear, neither of which came.

A large portion of the black sky flowed down to the earth, slow and thick as tree sap. It touched the mountains and devoured them; it flowed over the hills and consumed them, it covered the trees, and they disintegrated.

The destruction rushed towards Arn, and even the blunted echo of his fear was enough to send his heart racing. The worst part was the silence; the landscape vanished without a sound to mark its passing.

"Craw!" the sudden noise startled Arn, "craw, craw," the cries shattered the stillness. He jerked this way and that but saw only the yet remaining forest and mountains. Soon came the "flap - flap" of many pairs of wings, though Arn didn't see a single living thing anywhere he looked.

The darkness consumed all on its path to him. But perhaps it wasn't a path to him; perhaps it was just a path, and he happened to be on it. Perhaps the darkness didn't know of him at all and wouldn't know that it consumed him. Arn watched the nearby trees and snow float up and break into dust.

A jarring sensation washed over him, a sense of a presence within the approaching darkness.

The presence threatened him; its vastness overwhelmed his mind, greater than anything he'd ever witnessed. Yet, Arn looked deeper into the darkness. The stars within it moved unnaturally, outlining the shape of a great being with their paths. Two bright blue stars shifted in unison as though the eyes on an immeasurable face.

The wave of darkness split before him, leaving an island of forest around Arn. To either side was emptiness with nothing but vanishing dust to remind of what was there once.

The crows returned to silence, joining all else in this forest as it disappeared into the inky sky - mute and obedient.

The two blue stars, the eyes that now fixated upon him, captured Arn's attention. He sensed pressure upon the small island that held him, a will desiring to consume it, too. Arn knew that he had to hold on. He knew to brace his own will against that foreign power, laughable as the idea was.

He dropped to his knees, breaths ragged and shallow. Sweat beaded upon his forehead. Black specks appeared at the corners of Arn's vision, and he fell backward onto the snow. It was difficult to hold his eyes open, he tried his best, but the world darkened.

I am going to disappear, he thought.

Arn felt the pull of that foreign will and his own resistance failing. He felt the life drain out of his body, the very energy by which he was alive.

Will anyone know? He wondered. Just then, a sudden fresh infusion of power jolted him; warmth spread throughout his body. Arn managed to open his eyes, just enough to see a silhouette of a man standing between him and the darkness. The man turned, his bright violet eyes locked with Arn's. The warmth he felt earlier grew sharper, pins and needles spread throughout him. The weight of his eyelids became unbearable; every second was a struggle to keep his eyes open. Finally, Arn let them close. The bright violet eyes were the last thing that faded from his mind before he lost consciousness.