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Chapter 4: Ice Princess

Canis had seen a lot of weird stuff in his 17 years, but never this; truth be told, he had never experienced blistering cold in the middle of March either.
Over his head, the air started glittering, white fog spewed out from nowhere, and then came judgment from above. With a sound like someone dropped a coin in an empty alleyway, clear deadly spears of ice dropped out of the sky. They were cone-shaped; the base was thick as a young tree while the tips were sharp enough to carve a sentence in a metal wall. They fell fast, first one right above his head. He cried out in surprise and dodged left, but before he could run, another one fell down. Then they started to hail down. But they didn’t come close to hitting him, usually a few inches away. And when the rain had finished, so to speak, he found himself trapped in a circle of icicles that were as tall as horse carriages.
Seeing through clear ice has a way of distorting your vision. Everything in sight looked surreal, melting and shifting, as if the world behind the ice prison were made out of clay. But no matter how surreal it seemed, someone advancing you at high speed with a dangerously sharp object usually meant the same thing: Run!
A funnel of grayish-white air propelled out of the sky like a miniature cyclone, and a cry reverberated through the forest – the kind that meant Sit still and DIE!
But Canis was not a guy to sit still in dangerous situations, much less if they involved dying. The icicles were almost rooted to the ground, they wouldn’t have budged – the only way out was up. He jumped, passed through the opening with much ease and landed safely on the ground. The icicles, however, were not so lucky. The woman’s sword sliced through them like powder snow. It cut clean through, and the sight made Canis’ shirt feel uncomfortably tight around his neck. He gulped and pulled at the fabric to loosen it. His midsection had never been happier.
She turned to him, her eyes full of anger and humiliation. If looks could kill, he would have burst into flames a long time ago – even a cat would have been dead at this point. She flashed a bloodthirsty grin, which lasted no longer than a moment. She charged and unleashed a barrage of stabs, cuts and slashes. With every swing, she unleashed a blast of biting cold air that threatened to give him frostbites. However, despite her blindingly fast strikes, Canis had no problem evading her. But it only served to increase her anger.
She swung from the left, and Canis bent backwards until he resembled a C. The blade grazed his tresses, and icy scales spread over the bang. His hands touched the ground, and he used his momentum to propel himself into the air in a wide arch. He landed and slid a feet across the light green, crispy grass. The woman had him cornered, he realized as he noticed the sparkling blue water in the corner of his eye. She was calm and collected, with no twinkle of excitement in her eyes.
She swung her sword in a wide overhead arch, the speed left afterimages in the air.
“Die!” she screamed; and he would have, had it not been for the bloodstained knife. His hand gripped around the hilt with blinding speed, and a cloud of glittering particles exploded in all directions as their blades connected. She pushed down, and he held her back. She was strong, he noticed – stronger than he thought possible by looking at her. She grit her teeth and she gripped the hilt harder until her knuckles became whiter. His hand shock with pressure – the woman was nowhere near human.
‘Act now, or you’ll regret it,’ the persistent voice from earlier commanded. It was done tossing out vague words, and, frankly, Canis didn’t like its tone.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled. He pulled the knife away and rolled between the woman’s legs. She Eeeked! again, this time he could feel the heat emanating from her face, and he was quite red-faced as well.
“Now… you’ve done it,” her voice made chills run down his back, so cold and evil. She turned slowly, her face was red as a ruby, but her eyes… - the one who had first said the line “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” surely knew what he was talking about.
A snake of icy particles and white smoke circled around his feet. He knew he was doomed. He knew he should run. But no matter how much his brain barked and commanded, his feet wouldn’t budge. She reached out her arm. Her hand twitched. She clenched it into a fist and the smoke coiled around his feet like constrictors. Now he definitely couldn’t move
She pranced slowly towards him. Her eyes were calm, which made her all the more scary. The tip of the blade scraped against the ground, turning the grass into sturdy ice spikes. Like a cat playing with its prey, she slowly raised her sword and stopped a few feet away from him. She let the tip over a few inches from his chest. Canis hated this; he pulled at his leg, it wouldn’t budge; the fear grew stronger with each passing second. He couldn’t comprehend it. He had been cared before, but never like this. Never scared of death.
“Now you will die,” she swung, and he felt the cold steel before she hit. His skin was like warm butter as it sliced through, but the biting cold turned into searing hot pain. Blood spilled like a waterfall. He heard a weird cracking sound, as if he was stomping on a frozen pond – a horrifying could started spreading across his torso. And between gasps of air and coughing fits filled with blood and saliva, he felt as if frozen air was forcing itself down his throat, clogging it like an icicle.
Ice started plating his wood. Semi-clear shards overlapped each other like serpentine armor across his torso. He could feel a strange, electrifying pulsation going through his left shoulder; his heart sped up, colored circles ran across his eyes and a bestial snarl rose from his throat. Constant howls filled his head, together with thoughts of blood and flesh, and a snarling voice, as if a wolf had learned to speak.
‘Stand up and fight,’ it barked. ‘You’re just going to stay down and die? You’re a disgrace. Don’t give up and never back down!’ Weirdest pep talk he had ever received – without a single, teeny shadow of a doubt.
The world began to darken, as if a wall of clouds were covering the sky, and the voice turned incomprehensible. He could feel his body weakening, and a cold grasp enveloping him.
‘You’re time is not up yet, but every individual has the right to make a choice.’ Canis would have groaned if he had the strength to; he didn’t want another remember. But he didn’t get another remember. ‘Let us hope you choose rightly – both for your own sake… and for the world’s….”
The pulsation in his shoulder came to a halt, the world turned into a whirlpool of slowly paling colors… and his eyes closed slowly to the sound of a sheathing sword.

When Canis woke up, he had no recollection of what had happened; no memories of any incident or no dream, and he lacked the usual post-sleep headache. All he knew was that he did not feel particularly well. In fact, he felt a burning sensation at his torso, his hand was covered in a thin sheet of ice, and his throat was so could one would think he had swallowed a snowman.
He was surrounded by dead silence, never before had he never felt utter silence or felt no wind on his skin. He looked around, and his surrounding were unlike anything he had ever seen before. A sky devoid of colors, clouds, a sun, stars or a moon, but with a swirling, whitish- gray vortex. He felt grass under him, soft fresh grass that shifted silently to support his weight, and he felt the bark of a tree rub against the skin of his neck.
He smelled no scents at all, which scared him. No sound, no scent, no colors – was he dead?
He stood up, which proved to be much harder than he would have thought. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, as if they had been stuffed with lead pipes, and he could feel a strange void in his chest.
He looked around, and it was a sad view. The scenery before him was wide and gray, filled with black, gnarly trees and grass matching the sky. But around him stretched a circle with fresh, green grass, and at his back stood a tall, majestic tree with branches covered in leaves. However, as he walked around and the scene sunk in, leaves withered before his eyes and dropped to the ground and with each missing leaf, it felt like someone were stabbing at his heart.
He turned to it, and looked on with curiosity as the leaves kept withering.
“Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
“Gah!” He cried startled. He turned and punched, but his fist connected with a ball of smoke. It dissipated, but then he heard a gust of air.
“Your reflexes are remarkable; how you deal with them, however, is another matter.” Canis turned, more composed this time. Behind him stood a gray, semi-humanoid figure composed of gray. From the legs down it looked like the bottom half of a wine glass, while the upper half shared some similarities with a woman. A pair of scarlet eyes glowed like lanterns, and the features constantly shifted and solidified, becoming more and more feminine.
“Who- who are you, and where am I?” he asked, feeling his mouth grow dry. His hands felt clammy and he felt the strange pulsation in his shoulder return. ‘And what’s happening to me?’
The smoky figure waved a liquid-like arm. “That is not important now, Canis. And your question will be answered soon.” She (he assumed it was a she) turned away from him and she started walking around, or rather floating. She waved a smoky hand at her surroundings. “Do you know where you are, Canis?” she asked, as if this was a test and she was his examiner. He stood there silently, not answering her question.
She sighed. “Your actions today were shocking. Don’t tell me you’ve grown so rusty you can’t save your own life.”
“I haven’t,” he answered. “Now where am I?” His voice shook the ground they were standing on.
She gave him an once-over, what was possibly a look of disgust crossed her shifting face when she passed his torso. “Take a look at your chest.”
Canis cocked an eyebrow, but did as she said. He looked down, and words were lost at the sight of a large gash across his chest.
“What- what the…” he stuttered, trying to form a decent sentence.
“What the hell happened?” she offered mockingly, and Canis shot her a look that said, “Be careful, or I might be tempted to blow on you”.
“How did this happen?” His voice left no room for arguments.
She sighed – he wondered if it might have been Smoke for, Idiot. Her eyes were serious and a tad sleepy-looking. “You honestly don’t remember?”
“No.”
“What about that girl you angered? Do you remember anything about her?”
“No, I don’t. Could you please stop telling me to remember? What am I even supposed to remember – AH!”
A gray screen draped itself across his eyes, and recent events. It came back to him now: the girl by the pond, the way she seemed to be the embodiment of cold… the blade cutting across his chest.
“Better?” the smoke-person asked. Her face had started taking shape, but a mask of steam was still covering the lower half of her face. Her face was smooth like polished marble, but also just as cold and hard.
Canis swallowed and nodded. “I remember now,” he stated. “Yeah… the girl by the pond. She was -”
“Bautiful? Cute? Every man’s dream?”
“I was going to say something along the line of ‘murderous’, or ‘scary’ or even ‘incredibly dangerous with that knife’; but, sure, that works, too, I guess.” He coughed, with slightly flushed cheeks.
She looked around. Had she had a complete face, her expression would probably have said, ‘I agree with you on that one.’
“Of course she is – she sent you here,” she said, as if here was supposed to give him any idea.
“And that brings me to the same question that I’ve asked you twice already: WHERE AM I?”
“Look around,” she said. “Doesn’t it seem familiar?”
He could feel yet another headache threatening – he was tired of those things. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, though it sounded like more of a murder threat. “No, it doesn’t. Should it?”
“No, it shouldn’t. But you should consider yourself lucky.”
“Why?” This woman… this thing had a way of piquing his interest, despite her ability to tell the vaguest of answers.
“Look around. What do you see, feel, smell and hear? Nothing, right?” He nodded. “A place where one is robbed of their senses, where they are denied the luxury of sound, smell and touch; where could that be?”
He was silent, and he felt her eyes digging into him for an answer. “Death.” The word rolled over her lips like nothing, but it reverberated like the greatest earthquake.
Canis’ eyes shot wide open, he rushed towards the smoke-woman. He grabbed her shoulders and would’ve probably lifted her into the air, had she been completely tangible. “What are you saying? That I’m dead?”
Her eyes never changed and the stone-cold look remained. “No.” she said and pried his hands off. “Not yet, at least.”
He felt like he was about to swallow a lump the size of his fist. Another leaf withered and fell.
“Consider yourself lucky,” she said it as if he had jumped off the top of a thousand feet cliff and gotten away with a broken arm and a useless leg. In what scenario could this be considered as lucky?
He could not see her eyes, but he heard her calm voice. “You are now in the realm between Life and Death. Those here belong neither to the land of the dead nor the land of the living. They are people were too cowardly to live in either world, and they stayed here until they turned to specters.
“They roam here without a care in the world, unaware that they are no longer living, and robbed of colors, sounds and smells. Do you see them?”
And just as she asked, balls of white fog flared into existence. They were humans – from the shoulders down, the rest was grayish, opaque smoke. They were – formerly – humans of all sizes and ages: from young to old and skinny to fat. The floated around, their eyes were blank like they liked a functioning mind, and sometimes they would pass through each other – without batting an eyelash. Not even a slight twitch.
He felt a chill creep down his back. He did not belong here. If he was going to die, he was going to go down fighting.
“Listen,” he said, his eyes as sturdy as the mountains of Lunahana. “I’m not going to die here. Tell me what I’ve got to do and I’ll do it.”
“Relax,” she replied. “The worlds need you, Canis.” A purple, roaring vortex appeared out of nowhere, and a pulling wind blew into existence. Still, the spirits were still uncaring and apathetic and the grass didn’t even rustle. But he did.
The wind pulled at him, as if invisible hands were dragging him down. It roared in his ears, pulled at his clothes. He felt as if it might try to pull his head and neck clean off.
Snap!
Branches broke off and jumped into the vortex, and pain shot through his chest. He grit his teeth and winced. A blast of air struck down behind him , and he swore he felt someone breath on his ear.
“All you have to do is remember, or you will always belong to this world; you will never be whole.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He never got an answer, as someone shoved him hard, and he was sent into the pulling current.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Chapter 4: Ice Princess

Canis had seen a lot of weird stuff in his 17 years, but never this; truth be told, he had never experienced blistering cold in the middle of March either.
Over his head, the air started glittering, white fog spewed out from nowhere, and then came judgment from above. With a sound like someone dropped a coin in an empty alleyway, clear deadly spears of ice dropped out of the sky. They were cone-shaped; the base was thick as a young tree while the tips were sharp enough to carve a sentence in a metal wall. They fell fast, first one right above his head. He cried out in surprise and dodged left, but before he could run, another one fell down. Then they started to hail down. But they didn’t come close to hitting him, usually a few inches away. And when the rain had finished, so to speak, he found himself trapped in a circle of icicles that were as tall as horse carriages.
Seeing through clear ice has a way of distorting your vision. Everything in sight looked surreal, melting and shifting, as if the world behind the ice prison were made out of clay. But no matter how surreal it seemed, someone advancing you at high speed with a dangerously sharp object usually meant the same thing: Run!
A funnel of grayish-white air propelled out of the sky like a miniature cyclone, and a cry reverberated through the forest – the kind that meant Sit still and DIE!
But Canis was not a guy to sit still in dangerous situations, much less if they involved dying. The icicles were almost rooted to the ground, they wouldn’t have budged – the only way out was up. He jumped, passed through the opening with much ease and landed safely on the ground. The icicles, however, were not so lucky. The woman’s sword sliced through them like powder snow. It cut clean through, and the sight made Canis’ shirt feel uncomfortably tight around his neck. He gulped and pulled at the fabric to loosen it. His midsection had never been happier.
She turned to him, her eyes full of anger and humiliation. If looks could kill, he would have burst into flames a long time ago – even a cat would have been dead at this point. She flashed a bloodthirsty grin, which lasted no longer than a moment. She charged and unleashed a barrage of stabs, cuts and slashes. With every swing, she unleashed a blast of biting cold air that threatened to give him frostbites. However, despite her blindingly fast strikes, Canis had no problem evading her. But it only served to increase her anger.
She swung from the left, and Canis bent backwards until he resembled a C. The blade grazed his tresses, and icy scales spread over the bang. His hands touched the ground, and he used his momentum to propel himself into the air in a wide arch. He landed and slid a feet across the light green, crispy grass. The woman had him cornered, he realized as he noticed the sparkling blue water in the corner of his eye. She was calm and collected, with no twinkle of excitement in her eyes.
She swung her sword in a wide overhead arch, the speed left afterimages in the air.
“Die!” she screamed; and he would have, had it not been for the bloodstained knife. His hand gripped around the hilt with blinding speed, and a cloud of glittering particles exploded in all directions as their blades connected. She pushed down, and he held her back. She was strong, he noticed – stronger than he thought possible by looking at her. She grit her teeth and she gripped the hilt harder until her knuckles became whiter. His hand shock with pressure – the woman was nowhere near human.
‘Act now, or you’ll regret it,’ the persistent voice from earlier commanded. It was done tossing out vague words, and, frankly, Canis didn’t like its tone.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled. He pulled the knife away and rolled between the woman’s legs. She Eeeked! again, this time he could feel the heat emanating from her face, and he was quite red-faced as well.
“Now… you’ve done it,” her voice made chills run down his back, so cold and evil. She turned slowly, her face was red as a ruby, but her eyes… - the one who had first said the line “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” surely knew what he was talking about.
A snake of icy particles and white smoke circled around his feet. He knew he was doomed. He knew he should run. But no matter how much his brain barked and commanded, his feet wouldn’t budge. She reached out her arm. Her hand twitched. She clenched it into a fist and the smoke coiled around his feet like constrictors. Now he definitely couldn’t move
She pranced slowly towards him. Her eyes were calm, which made her all the more scary. The tip of the blade scraped against the ground, turning the grass into sturdy ice spikes. Like a cat playing with its prey, she slowly raised her sword and stopped a few feet away from him. She let the tip over a few inches from his chest. Canis hated this; he pulled at his leg, it wouldn’t budge; the fear grew stronger with each passing second. He couldn’t comprehend it. He had been cared before, but never like this. Never scared of death.
“Now you will die,” she swung, and he felt the cold steel before she hit. His skin was like warm butter as it sliced through, but the biting cold turned into searing hot pain. Blood spilled like a waterfall. He heard a weird cracking sound, as if he was stomping on a frozen pond – a horrifying could started spreading across his torso. And between gasps of air and coughing fits filled with blood and saliva, he felt as if frozen air was forcing itself down his throat, clogging it like an icicle.
Ice started plating his wood. Semi-clear shards overlapped each other like serpentine armor across his torso. He could feel a strange, electrifying pulsation going through his left shoulder; his heart sped up, colored circles ran across his eyes and a bestial snarl rose from his throat. Constant howls filled his head, together with thoughts of blood and flesh, and a snarling voice, as if a wolf had learned to speak.
‘Stand up and fight,’ it barked. ‘You’re just going to stay down and die? You’re a disgrace. Don’t give up and never back down!’ Weirdest pep talk he had ever received – without a single, teeny shadow of a doubt.
The world began to darken, as if a wall of clouds were covering the sky, and the voice turned incomprehensible. He could feel his body weakening, and a cold grasp enveloping him.
‘You’re time is not up yet, but every individual has the right to make a choice.’ Canis would have groaned if he had the strength to; he didn’t want another remember. But he didn’t get another remember. ‘Let us hope you choose rightly – both for your own sake… and for the world’s….”
The pulsation in his shoulder came to a halt, the world turned into a whirlpool of slowly paling colors… and his eyes closed slowly to the sound of a sheathing sword.

When Canis woke up, he had no recollection of what had happened; no memories of any incident or no dream, and he lacked the usual post-sleep headache. All he knew was that he did not feel particularly well. In fact, he felt a burning sensation at his torso, his hand was covered in a thin sheet of ice, and his throat was so could one would think he had swallowed a snowman.
He was surrounded by dead silence, never before had he never felt utter silence or felt no wind on his skin. He looked around, and his surrounding were unlike anything he had ever seen before. A sky devoid of colors, clouds, a sun, stars or a moon, but with a swirling, whitish- gray vortex. He felt grass under him, soft fresh grass that shifted silently to support his weight, and he felt the bark of a tree rub against the skin of his neck.
He smelled no scents at all, which scared him. No sound, no scent, no colors – was he dead?
He stood up, which proved to be much harder than he would have thought. His limbs felt heavy and stiff, as if they had been stuffed with lead pipes, and he could feel a strange void in his chest.
He looked around, and it was a sad view. The scenery before him was wide and gray, filled with black, gnarly trees and grass matching the sky. But around him stretched a circle with fresh, green grass, and at his back stood a tall, majestic tree with branches covered in leaves. However, as he walked around and the scene sunk in, leaves withered before his eyes and dropped to the ground and with each missing leaf, it felt like someone were stabbing at his heart.
He turned to it, and looked on with curiosity as the leaves kept withering.
“Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
“Gah!” He cried startled. He turned and punched, but his fist connected with a ball of smoke. It dissipated, but then he heard a gust of air.
“Your reflexes are remarkable; how you deal with them, however, is another matter.” Canis turned, more composed this time. Behind him stood a gray, semi-humanoid figure composed of gray. From the legs down it looked like the bottom half of a wine glass, while the upper half shared some similarities with a woman. A pair of scarlet eyes glowed like lanterns, and the features constantly shifted and solidified, becoming more and more feminine.
“Who- who are you, and where am I?” he asked, feeling his mouth grow dry. His hands felt clammy and he felt the strange pulsation in his shoulder return. ‘And what’s happening to me?’
The smoky figure waved a liquid-like arm. “That is not important now, Canis. And your question will be answered soon.” She (he assumed it was a she) turned away from him and she started walking around, or rather floating. She waved a smoky hand at her surroundings. “Do you know where you are, Canis?” she asked, as if this was a test and she was his examiner. He stood there silently, not answering her question.
She sighed. “Your actions today were shocking. Don’t tell me you’ve grown so rusty you can’t save your own life.”
“I haven’t,” he answered. “Now where am I?” His voice shook the ground they were standing on.
She gave him an once-over, what was possibly a look of disgust crossed her shifting face when she passed his torso. “Take a look at your chest.”
Canis cocked an eyebrow, but did as she said. He looked down, and words were lost at the sight of a large gash across his chest.
“What- what the…” he stuttered, trying to form a decent sentence.
“What the hell happened?” she offered mockingly, and Canis shot her a look that said, “Be careful, or I might be tempted to blow on you”.
“How did this happen?” His voice left no room for arguments.
She sighed – he wondered if it might have been Smoke for, Idiot. Her eyes were serious and a tad sleepy-looking. “You honestly don’t remember?”
“No.”
“What about that girl you angered? Do you remember anything about her?”
“No, I don’t. Could you please stop telling me to remember? What am I even supposed to remember – AH!”
A gray screen draped itself across his eyes, and recent events. It came back to him now: the girl by the pond, the way she seemed to be the embodiment of cold… the blade cutting across his chest.
“Better?” the smoke-person asked. Her face had started taking shape, but a mask of steam was still covering the lower half of her face. Her face was smooth like polished marble, but also just as cold and hard.
Canis swallowed and nodded. “I remember now,” he stated. “Yeah… the girl by the pond. She was -”
“Bautiful? Cute? Every man’s dream?”
“I was going to say something along the line of ‘murderous’, or ‘scary’ or even ‘incredibly dangerous with that knife’; but, sure, that works, too, I guess.” He coughed, with slightly flushed cheeks.
She looked around. Had she had a complete face, her expression would probably have said, ‘I agree with you on that one.’
“Of course she is – she sent you here,” she said, as if here was supposed to give him any idea.
“And that brings me to the same question that I’ve asked you twice already: WHERE AM I?”
“Look around,” she said. “Doesn’t it seem familiar?”
He could feel yet another headache threatening – he was tired of those things. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, though it sounded like more of a murder threat. “No, it doesn’t. Should it?”
“No, it shouldn’t. But you should consider yourself lucky.”
“Why?” This woman… this thing had a way of piquing his interest, despite her ability to tell the vaguest of answers.
“Look around. What do you see, feel, smell and hear? Nothing, right?” He nodded. “A place where one is robbed of their senses, where they are denied the luxury of sound, smell and touch; where could that be?”
He was silent, and he felt her eyes digging into him for an answer. “Death.” The word rolled over her lips like nothing, but it reverberated like the greatest earthquake.
Canis’ eyes shot wide open, he rushed towards the smoke-woman. He grabbed her shoulders and would’ve probably lifted her into the air, had she been completely tangible. “What are you saying? That I’m dead?”
Her eyes never changed and the stone-cold look remained. “No.” she said and pried his hands off. “Not yet, at least.”
He felt like he was about to swallow a lump the size of his fist. Another leaf withered and fell.
“Consider yourself lucky,” she said it as if he had jumped off the top of a thousand feet cliff and gotten away with a broken arm and a useless leg. In what scenario could this be considered as lucky?
He could not see her eyes, but he heard her calm voice. “You are now in the realm between Life and Death. Those here belong neither to the land of the dead nor the land of the living. They are people were too cowardly to live in either world, and they stayed here until they turned to specters.
“They roam here without a care in the world, unaware that they are no longer living, and robbed of colors, sounds and smells. Do you see them?”
And just as she asked, balls of white fog flared into existence. They were humans – from the shoulders down, the rest was grayish, opaque smoke. They were – formerly – humans of all sizes and ages: from young to old and skinny to fat. The floated around, their eyes were blank like they liked a functioning mind, and sometimes they would pass through each other – without batting an eyelash. Not even a slight twitch.
He felt a chill creep down his back. He did not belong here. If he was going to die, he was going to go down fighting.
“Listen,” he said, his eyes as sturdy as the mountains of Lunahana. “I’m not going to die here. Tell me what I’ve got to do and I’ll do it.”
“Relax,” she replied. “The worlds need you, Canis.” A purple, roaring vortex appeared out of nowhere, and a pulling wind blew into existence. Still, the spirits were still uncaring and apathetic and the grass didn’t even rustle. But he did.
The wind pulled at him, as if invisible hands were dragging him down. It roared in his ears, pulled at his clothes. He felt as if it might try to pull his head and neck clean off.
Snap!
Branches broke off and jumped into the vortex, and pain shot through his chest. He grit his teeth and winced. A blast of air struck down behind him , and he swore he felt someone breath on his ear.
“All you have to do is remember, or you will always belong to this world; you will never be whole.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He never got an answer, as someone shoved him hard, and he was sent into the pulling current.