The snow had started to stick.
I watched it from my position on the floor, my cheek pressed against the rough weave of the rug. The flakes were large and heavy, plastering themselves against the windowpane like moths trying to get to a light that had already gone out.
I couldn't feel my toes. I couldn't feel my fingers.
The sickness wasn't a fever anymore. It was a shutdown. My body, unable to process the chaotic mix of void magic and alpha aether, was simply turning off the lights, room by room.
My heart beat in a slow, sluggish rhythm.
It was peaceful, in a way. The pain had faded into a numb, gray haze.
Under the sofa, the Null Stone pulsed. I could see its faint black glow reflecting off the floorboards. It was calling to me. Put me on. Stop the cold. Be safe.
"No," I mouthed.
