Ansel woke up slowly, a sharp, relentless pain radiating from his waist. Every breath sent a jolt through his body. But by some miracle, his bones were only cracked, not broken.
The relief was bittersweet. He knew it would take days, maybe even a week, to fully recover.
Yet, the pain was only one part of his ordeal.
His eyes instinctively moved to the mirror across the room. The scar on his neck, a vivid mark from his recent battle, hadn't faded.
Instead, it seemed to burn with unnatural heat. As if a tiny flame was licking his skin from within. The sensation was unbearable, a searing reminder of the fight he had barely survived.
Despite the severity of his injuries, Ansel had refused to be hospitalized. His grandpa, Mr. McVeigh, had been adamant about it too.
His grandfather had said firmly. "You'll be safer here, at home. Besides, there's no Fayfiend lurking in these walls."
The Fayfiend, a malevolent creature that haunted the outskirts of his home, was the last thing Ansel wanted to face again.
Summoning his strength, Ansel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The pain in his waist flared. But he gritted his teeth and steadied himself.
He shuffled toward the mirror, his hand trembling as he reached up to touch the scar on the neck. The skin was hot to the touch, almost as if it were roasting over an invisible fire.
"Ough…." He muttered, biting back a groan. The heat was maddening, but he forced himself to endure it.
Downstairs, the comforting aroma of breakfast greeted him. His grandpa was already in the kitchen, carefully preparing a simple meal. The menu was humble but familiar, banana toast drizzled with brown syrup. It was a small comfort in the midst of chaos.
"You woke up ... well take your breakfast first." Mr. McVeigh said with a warm smile. He placed the toast on the table.
Ansel sat down, his fingers still lingering near the burning scar on his neck. He poured the syrup generously over the toast. The sweetness of a stark contrast to the bitterness of his situation. Taking a bite, he looked up at his grandfather with a serious expression.
"Grandpa, what should I do next?" He asked. His voice was steady despite the pain.
Mr. McVeigh's eyes darkened with resolve. "Kill Heka as soon as possible."
The name hung in the air like a curse. Heka was the source of his suffering, his relentless vision.
Also the scorching skin behind the Fayfiend and the scar that burned on Ansel's neck. It was a mission fraught with danger, but there was no turning back now.
Ansel sat quietly, his mind racing as he absorbed Mr. McVeigh's blunt answer. The weight of the mission pressed heavily on him.
Ansel finally asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Is there another way without killing him?"
Deep down, he already knew the harsh truth, but a flicker of hope still burned within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could save Heka without shedding blood.
Mr. McVeigh's gaze was steady, unyielding. He said simply, as if the words themselves were a bitter medicine that had to be swallowed. "Sacrifices must be made."
"But, why should Heka? Why not someone else? Maybe a criminal." Ansel's voice cracked with emotion.
The old man's eyes darkened with suspicion. He admitted that his voice was low and cautious. "I don't know."
"When you see Heka beside him, you have to be careful. However, it will probably always be stuck on Heka. But there's something about the person who attacked you... I'm not sure he's human." Mr McVeigh warned his grandson. His voice was firm yet determined.
Since Mr McVeigh met Heka. He sensed something beside him. Something that was always following him. Hence, he always felt cautious when it was about Heka.
Ansel's thoughts churned. "I know. But what is his purpose? Why did he kidnap Heka?"
Mr. McVeigh leaned forward. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me everything. How did he bring Heka?"
Ansel recalled the moment vividly. "He said something to Heka. The words I couldn't hear clearly. Then, without warning, they left together. It was like he manipulated him, and controlled his mind somehow."
The old man's expression grew even more serious. "I think that everything you see can't fully understand."
Ansel swallowed hard, the uncertainty gnawing at him. The line between friend and foe blurred. The stakes grew higher with every passing moment.
If Heka was caught in a web of manipulation, then killing him would be a tragedy beyond measure. But if he was the key to stopping something far worse, then the sacrifice might be inevitable.
"What do you mean?" Ansel asked. His voice was tinged with confusion and a growing sense of dread.
Mr. McVeigh's eyes were grave as he explained. "It can be that he wasn't kidnapped, but Heka had decided to be with that person. Meanwhile, it's so easy for him because he's not human."
Ansel's brow furrowed in disbelief. "How can you assure that he is not human?"
Without hesitation, Mr. McVeigh reached out and gently took Ansel's hand in his own. The old man's hands were bright red, almost glowing with an unnatural heat.
He said quietly. "Look at your burning hands. If someone holds you, then your hands feel hot and burning. It's definitely he's not human."
Ansel stared at his hand, the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. A chill ran down his spine. He asked, his voice barely steady. "Then what should I suppose to do?"
"Don't come to him, whatever the reason behind." Mr. McVeigh warned firmly.
Ansel nodded, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation settled over him like a heavy fog.
His grandfather continued. "I have made ice cubes. Compress your hands and neck."
Ansel rose from his chair and made his way to the refrigerator. Inside, the only thing visible was a bowl filled with ice cubes.
He grabbed it and pressed his burning hand against the ice. The contrast was immediate and intense. Within just one minute, the entire bowl of ice had melted.
Ansel exclaimed, holding up the empty bowl in disbelief. "Grandpa, look at this!!!"
Mr. McVeigh's face paled, a flicker of panic flashing in his eyes. He said urgently. "Soak your body with ice water…"
Ansel looked at his grandfather, surprise and concern mixing in his expression. "Is it really that bad?"
Mr. McVeigh said gravely. His voice was tinged with worry. "This is the only way. It's not winter anymore. It's summer. If you don't do this, I'm afraid your whole body will turn to ashes."
His weathered hands gently cradled Ansel's neck, where the burning had intensified. "Just look at your neck. It's like charcoal, blackened and searing."
Ansel swallowed hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Without hesitation, he grabbed a large tub and carried it to the backyard.
The open air was better than the cramped bathroom for this desperate remedy. It would be easier to replenish the ice cubes and endure the ordeal outside, under the sun.
He filled the tub with as many ice cubes as he could gather. The cold clinking sound echoed in the quiet yard.
Not wanting to waste any time, Ansel also filled a tub with water and placed it in the freezer, setting the temperature to the lowest setting so the water would freeze quickly. Every minute counted.
Slowly, Ansel lowered himself into the icy water. The shock of the cold was immediate. He groaned softly as the sting spread across his skin.
The unbearable heat that had consumed his body began to ebb away. It was replaced by a biting chill that seemed to freeze the unburned parts of his flesh. It was a cruel trade, relief from one torment only to be met by another.
Mr. McVeigh approached, his eyes full of concern but steady with resolve. He instructed.
"Do it until the burns on your body disappear completely. When the ice is melted, you must replace it immediately."
Ansel nodded, determination hardening his features despite the discomfort. He settled deeper into the tub, the cold water enveloping him like a harsh but necessary shield.