(IM)MORTAL

11

⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆
THE ELEVENTH CHAPTER
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༶•┈┈୨ THE PINK SKY twisted Rouge's stomach in a triple knot. She was putting pieces together, but they fell right back out of place again.

She had no idea if her theories were correct. She felt that she was thinking too much and too hard.

But . . .

There was no other explanation.

The comet making its way to Earth was, not only turning the sky an alarming but gorgeous colour, but also . . . killing him?

         Shadow had the rare power to heal. If he was cut,

(which she had seen a few times;
the worst was a terrible, horrible gash
on his abdomen
he had gotten in the jungle)

         he simply put his hands there, breathed deep, and within minutes, lime-green Chaos sparked and kissed the boo-boo better. He would mediate for an hour; eyes shut, breaths deep (and sometimes he would fall asleep), and when he was done, almost all evidence was erased; the only proof that he had ever been wounded was the lack of fur that soon grew back within a few days.

         He healed. That Chaotic ability was rare. She knew only one other with that gift, and that was Knuckles.

(Of course, that was a given,
being the Guardian and all.)

         But, out of the blue, Shadow was not healing. Could not heal.

         One week prior, a news anchor reported jovially about the reappearance of the Black Comet, a phenomenon that occurred once every fifty-some years. The human woman spoke of the strange occurrences to happen whilst the Comet is in orbit: of a blue sky blending to a soft pink and then to bloody crimson before reverting back to blue as the comet passed Earth by. Harmless colour change, that was all. Apparently, the comet was to appear as a second sun in the sky, a black one, which she admitted may be frightening

(but also harmless;
harmless, the humans always say
like they had any idea)

         and it would stay for three days before continuing its course.

Well, those days were closing in. The sky bled deeper each day, the dot in the sky next to the sun growing bigger and blacker.

And, in return, Shadow was worsening.

         She returned home four days ago

(nights, really; she never
ventured the day these days,
what with the government
on a witch hunt for a child)

         and Shadow was in bed. Already the red flags had been waving. He did not just lie in bed.

         She came to him, sat with him on the bed, and he had a cold, cold rag pressed to his face. He told her, in that quiet voice of his

(that made her melt,
because of how broken
he always sounded;
how sad and hollow)