Did people ever feel remorse for the candles they snuff out? Those little lights, just starting to shine, that mortals decided had served their purpose. Those little lights that only wanted to be useful, but soon met a bitter end as the world around them was engulfed in shadows. He knew Darkness, at least, felt no remorse for all those lost lights. She intended to keep the whole world in her shadows, to live in a place where light was unheard of or a far-off dream.
Iztali only had these things to think about on the rare chance that he was alone, if not just because he knew that he was close to sharing a fate with those lights. He knew he wasn’t too far from being snuffed out.
This maze-like abyss was his own subconscious. Well, his, Lekra’s, and Nathen’s. It was the part of their minds that they shared, being the Fos, the Skiá, and the Dreamer. He’d first seen this place when Darkness took Nathen and Lekra; when, to the mortal world, they mysteriously disappeared to what wasn’t life nor death. But he never did well when he was away from Nathen, so his mortal form—Nahten’s “pet bird”—died. That’s when he realized he couldn’t leave.
It felt like the only thing he could do now was allow his light to go out, but he didn’t want to die. Day and Mazel were waiting for him to get better. Nathen’s family needed him to prove that there was hope. What he feared the most, though, was that he knew exactly what death looked like for Fos. It wasn’t a place surrounded in the dim glow of Vriuh’s domain like mortals were allowed to enjoy; no, when light died, it simply turned back into darkness. He didn’t want to be in darkness forever, wandering around in a black void even more terrifying than what he was forced to endure now.
To stay alive meant he had to keep moving, and he couldn’t get caught. If he stopped long enough for them to find him, then he wouldn’t even have a chance of getting away. His glimpses into reality had always been short and hazy, but it wasn’t something he could hope for now. He was all on his own, with very little to gain but far much to lose.
The wolves were howling, signifying the arrival of a much more threatening force. It was his sign that he needed to start moving before it could catch up. He didn’t spend a moment longer just standing there, a walk soon turning into a run as panic began to set in.
At first, he didn’t realize that this felt different than all the other nights. Normally, he could tell exactly where his hunter was; sometimes it was as a feeling of being watched from a certain direction, others it was its howl, and on rare occasions he got an increasingly uneasy feeling the closer he got to it. But this time, there was nothing like that—or rather, it was all of them. He felt like everything was watching him, even the trees made up of shadows and each brick that formed the castle in the distance. There were several howls coming from all around him, not one any louder or more foreboding than the next. He couldn’t shake his unease no matter what direction he ran in, as it only seemed to grow the longer he tried to avoid it.
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Would this finally be the night he couldn’t escape death for any longer?
He felt the eyes of the wolves from all around him. He could hear their paws as they steadily stalked closer. He could see its eyes glowing, waiting for the perfect time to drag him away.
One of the wolves tried jumping at him. He moved away just quick enough so it only got the edge of his scarf. With a bit of desperation, he tried turning into a bird in hopes of losing them—that plan was scrapped when the pain shot through his head, reminding him of what he lost.
It was too late to run. Its teeth bit into his scarf, pulling him to the ground with a thud. He tried to scramble back up, but it was too big. It started dragging him past all the wolves, down into an even darker place without light…
…
Iztali never opened his eyes so quickly. It wouldn’t have been the only thing he’d done if it weren’t for the fact they’d prepared for it; the restraints and medicines were all to keep him in place, so that he couldn’t get worse.
“Have a nightmare?” Sokratas was right there, likely working on the odd contraption that helped keep the Fos alive without a mortal form. It was more of a trick question—he knew Fos didn’t dream.
Even when Iztali could finally get his breathing normal again, that didn’t help his overwhelming need to cry. “Is Day here..?” he instead asked, trying his best to sound clear. He was already beginning to feel his need to fall back asleep. He didn’t want to go to sleep. Bad things awaited him when he went back.
“You say that as though she can leave.” Sokratas walked over and opened the door, casually calling out, “Imena, can you get Danai?” He paused. “Preface it with ‘he’s not dead.’”
It didn’t take long for Day to get there. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking; her expression wasn’t sad nor happy, though it was somewhat content.
“I don’t think I can hold out much longer…” Iztali mumbled. “They’re gonna get me if I go back. I’m going to die. I don’t want to go back to sleep, because if I do…”
“It’s okay, Izzy,” Day assured him. She went over to his bed and placed her hand on his, a small and fragile smile forming. “You won’t have to suffer through this any longer. You’re going to start feeling better soon. Your dreamer’s just found his way back to the land of the living.”