A Choir Of The Coldest Hearts

It's A Long Way Down

The boy is surprisingly light as I gingerly slide my arm under him, lifting him up. Alex hovers next to me, ready to help me, but I shake my head. He's light enough that I can carry him by myself. It is quite awkward though, trying to maneuver him through the forest, so Jack and Alex help hold branches aside until the four of us reach the side of the school.

I don't want to be seen, so I carefully cast an invisibility spell over the two of us, leaving Alex and Jack visible for everyone else to see.

Alex and Jack get intercepted a few times as we cross the yard. Luckily, I'm not visible, so I make it to the hall and up the stairs into the dorms. It's a bit hard to get the door open, so at last, I just point my hand at the door, forcing it to pop open without even uttering a word. I kick the door shut, setting the boy on my bed.

I rest my fingers against his wrist, then move them to the side of his neck. No, I didn't imagine it before. There's no pulse, not one at all. As I watch him, I notice his chest isn't moving either. I let my hand hover just above his lips, but there's no breath.

At last, I sit back, watching him from the other side of my room. How the hell is this possible? In all the research I did about necromancy, I never could believe this. He seems alive, in almost every way, other than, you know, the fact that he's not breathing. So does that make him dead? But I can physically touch him, unlike what I would assume a ghost to be.

I hear a rustle and look up to see the boy stirring. He sits up, staring at me with his beautiful eyes. A look of alarm flashes across his face as he scans his surroundings, his gaze coming to rest back on me again.

"Hi," I say cautiously, standing up slowly as to not alarm him.

"Hello," he whispers, his voice slightly raspy. His eyes flit over to the window, then over to the door before back to me again.

"Are you okay?" I ask. I'm standing a few paces away, just in case something happens again, like when he lunged for me.

He nods slowly, not taking his eyes off of me. I shift uncomfortably, watching him as I do. He doesn't seem like he's going to attack, but he looks on edge.

"What are you?" I ask. "You're not—like anything I've ever seen before."

"I need to go," he whispers. "Now."

"You look human," I say, electing to ignore him. "But you're not, are you?"

"You're a warlock," the boy whispers. "I know that."

"Are you one too?"

The boy hesitates, then shakes his head. "Please let me go," he says.

"Are you in trouble? Do you need help?"

"Just let me out," he pleads.

"Did we hurt you in any way?"

He shakes his head, seemingly realizing that I'm not going to give up. He leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as we watch each other, neither of us certain what to do.

"Can you get me a glass of water?" he asks finally.

"Yeah," I turn toward the door. "Is this—" I spin around to see a dark shape disappear out the window. I run to the window, expecting to see his broken form lying on the ground, but there's nothing: he's just gone, leaving just the open window and the drapes fluttering.