The physical sensation of the freezing was horrifyingly familiar. It felt exactly like the psychological numbness that hadconsumed me a year ago. The slow, creeping paralysis. The way the edges of my perception blurred, dulling the sharp, vibrant colors of the world into a flat, meaningless gray. I had spent my entire adult life as a crisis negotiator, wading into the most desperate, violent, emotionally volatile situations humanity could produce, trying to talk people down from the ledge.
And then, one day, the ledge just hadn't seemed that high anymore. The empathy had simply run out, leaving an absolute, terrifying void. I had come to this burning planet hoping the sheer scale of the fire would jolt me back to life.
Instead, I was going to freeze to death in the dark.
A faint, pulsing orange light broke the oppressive blackness of the cavern.
Kaen was slumped against the curved basalt wall a few yards away. The dim, eerie illumination was coming from his own body. The jagged fissures running up his charcoal-gray arms and neck were glowing with a sluggish, sullen magma-light.
He looked terrible. His breathing was ragged, his massive chest heaving with every uneven pull of air. His left wing hung at a sickening, unnatural angle, the heavy obsidian feathers dragging against the dirt. A thick, dark substance that smelled of hot iron and sulfur was seeping from the torn joint, sizzling faintly as it pooled on the freezing stone.
But despite his own obvious, agonizing pain, his glowing eyes were fixed entirely on me.
"Your suit," he rasped, his gravelly voice echoing off the damp walls. "The light is dead."
I tried to answer, to tell him I was fine, but my jaw locked. A violent tremor racked my entire body, violently jerking my shoulders. I hugged my knees tighter, squeezing my eyes shut.
Kaen cursed. It was a harsh, guttural sound in his native tongue that vibrated through the floor.
I heard the heavy, scraping crunch of his boots against the stone as he pushed himself upright. He crossed the distance between us in two massive strides, dropping to his knees beside me. The ambient heat radiating from his glowing veins washed over my face, but it barely penetrated the dead silver material of my suit.
"You're freezing," he said, reaching out to touch my shoulder.
"I'm..." I forced the word past my chattering teeth. "I'm okay."
"Do not lie to a Warden," he growled, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating in my chest.
He didn't hesitate. He shifted his massive bulk closer, pressing his side against the cold stone, and extended his unbroken right wing. The massive, leathery appendage swept over my head, coming down like a heavy, physical canopy. He tucked the edge of his wing firmly against the ground on my far side, effectively sealing me inside a dark, makeshift tent of obsidian feathers and hardened muscle.
The ambient heat trapped beneath the wing immediately intensified. It was like sitting next to a massive, roaring hearth.
"Better?" he asked, his voice low and tight with strain.
"Yes," I lied, my voice shaking.
It wasn't better. The heat was pooling in the small pocket of air between us, but the dead silver suit was still doing its job, reflecting the thermal radiation away from my core. I was shivering so violently my core muscles were beginning to cramp, a sharp, stabbing pain under my ribs.
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the cave wall. The violent tremors were exhausting. The adrenaline from the eruption and the terrifying flight had completely burned out of my system, leaving nothing but an overwhelming, crushing lethargy.
I recognized the clinical signs. I had read the medical briefings on deep space exposure. My core temperature was dropping below ninety degrees. The violent shivering was my body's last, desperate attempt to generate kinetic heat.
When the shivering stopped, the real dying began.
I don't know how long we sat there in the dark under the canopy of his wing. Minutes. Maybe hours. The passage of time distorted, stretching into a slow, syrupy crawl.
Eventually, the painful, violent spasms in my shoulders began to slow down. My locked jaw relaxed. The sharp, agonizing bite of the cold against my skin began to dull, replaced by a strange, heavy warmth that I knew logically wasn't real. It was the blood retreating from my extremities, pulling back to protect my failing organs.
The agonizing tension locking my spine completely dissolved, and my cramping muscles went terrifyingly slack. The terror of the disaster faded. The exhaustion vanished. I just felt incredibly, wonderfully sleepy as the cold tricked my dying brain into letting go.
"Tove."
Kaen's voice sounded distorted, like he was speaking from underwater.
I didn't answer. I didn't want to open my eyes. The darkness was so quiet and inviting.
"Tove!"
The heavy canopy of the wing was suddenly yanked away. The freezing, damp air of the cave rushed back in, hitting my face like a physical slap, but I couldn't even muster a flinch.
