The Prince told me. There's something about the Prince that makes me want to turn and run when I see him, but he said Ishrael's name, and Ishrael is the most important person in the world. His name is Xyn. He knows Lamia, and Lamia scares me, and Xyn has never done anything bad to me but he scares me, too. Xyn said that Ishrael was sick. My dear friend; a fever, he said. I had to go to Ishrael. I had to help him. Something is terribly wrong with Ishrael, he cringes away from everything, he doesn't say what hurts him, but whenever I'm near him my chest hurts and there's a knot in my stomach and I know it's what Ishrael is feeling, too. Nehemiah said that I feel what others are feeling because I am something called an "empath".
Ishrael was still at the inn where I saw him last time. I was too forward and I came to him and smothered him in an embrace, he didn't look well, I pressed my hands to his face and he flinched away. I flinched, too, because feeling him hurt me, because he hurts in his soul, but it doesn't matter if it hurts me, I have to be strong for him; I thought I could take his pain, I thought I could make him better. He wanted to tell me something but he couldn't. I gave him medicines for his fever, and something else, a special brew, something I learned from a secret friend, a tincture. Only a few drops will make you sleep deep and dream of peaceful, pleasant things. You cannot have nightmares when you take the dreaming potion. I thought it would help.
Ishrael went to his bed, he was very tired, the medicine worked fast. I wanted to be near him when he woke up, so I went outside, and spread my blanket on the ground under the porch of the inn, and slept.
Ishrael was still sleeping when I woke up, so I waited. And waited, and waited. He was taking too long. He should have been awake and refreshed and feeling much better by now. I wanted to see him wake and smile and eat something finally, because he never eats and he is too thin, even thinner than me. I crept into his room. He was asleep still. I called to him, but he didn't answer. I pushed his hair out of his face and shook him gently, but he didn't wake up. I cried out, but he didn't move. I put my head against his chest. His heart was beating still, but it sounded so far away. My tears made a cold, soggy puddle on the front of his shirt.
What have I done? What have I done to my dear friend?
Ishrael was still at the inn where I saw him last time. I was too forward and I came to him and smothered him in an embrace, he didn't look well, I pressed my hands to his face and he flinched away. I flinched, too, because feeling him hurt me, because he hurts in his soul, but it doesn't matter if it hurts me, I have to be strong for him; I thought I could take his pain, I thought I could make him better. He wanted to tell me something but he couldn't. I gave him medicines for his fever, and something else, a special brew, something I learned from a secret friend, a tincture. Only a few drops will make you sleep deep and dream of peaceful, pleasant things. You cannot have nightmares when you take the dreaming potion. I thought it would help.
Ishrael went to his bed, he was very tired, the medicine worked fast. I wanted to be near him when he woke up, so I went outside, and spread my blanket on the ground under the porch of the inn, and slept.
Ishrael was still sleeping when I woke up, so I waited. And waited, and waited. He was taking too long. He should have been awake and refreshed and feeling much better by now. I wanted to see him wake and smile and eat something finally, because he never eats and he is too thin, even thinner than me. I crept into his room. He was asleep still. I called to him, but he didn't answer. I pushed his hair out of his face and shook him gently, but he didn't wake up. I cried out, but he didn't move. I put my head against his chest. His heart was beating still, but it sounded so far away. My tears made a cold, soggy puddle on the front of his shirt.
What have I done? What have I done to my dear friend?
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