Hours passed, and the sun moved across the sky. It was casting shifting shadows over the yard. The ice cubes slowly melted. Their sharp edges softened into water.
Half an hour later, the last remnants of the cubes dissolved. Ansel climbed out, his body trembling from the cold. He refilled the tub with fresh ice cubes, plunging back in without hesitation.
He repeated this cycle all day long. Hence, the relentless cold numbed his skin and muscles.
Then, the burning sensation gradually faded. And the dark, charred marks on his hands and neck faded until they vanished completely.
At the midnight, the transformation was undeniable, no more signs of grilled meat, no more searing heat.
Yet, the price was evident. His body was stiff and constricted from hours of soaking in icy water. Every muscle ached, and his skin felt raw and sensitive. But the relief was worth the pain.
***
Ansel lay in bed, tossing and turning. However no matter how hard he tried, sleep refused to come. His mind was restless, tangled with worry and pain.
Finally, unable to bear the silence of the night. He rose and quietly made his way to the backyard. The cool air greeted him as he settled onto the terrace. He gazed up at the vast, star-speckled sky. The quiet hum of the night seemed to echo his unease.
Suddenly, a familiar presence appeared beside him. Rhea, his loyal companion, materialized in the moonlight.
But something was wrong. Her fur, once a soft, warm shade, had turned completely black, as if coated in charcoal dust. The sight sent a pang through Ansel's heart.
"Rhea, what happened to you?" He whispered. His hand reached out to touch her fur.
His fingers brushed against the coarse, soot-covered strands, and he felt a strange heat radiating from her body.
"Are you feeling hot?" He asked gently. The concern etched across his face.
Rhea remained silent. Her eyes reflected a quiet pain that mirrored his own.
Ansel's mind raced. Could this be his fault? Was his burning condition somehow affected by her? He murmured.
His voice trembled. "Is it all because of me? Rhea, I'm sorry, I don't mean to forget you."
He felt lost, unsure of what to do next. The thought of waking Mr. McVeigh in the middle of the night seemed impossible. He needed to find a way to help Rhea on his own.
Then, an idea sparked in his mind. What if the ice treatment that had helped him could help her too? Without hesitation, Ansel fetched a large tub and filled it to the brim with ice cubes. The cold clinking sound breaks the stillness of the night.
Carefully, he placed Rhea into the tub. The icy water envelops her blackened fur. "Rhea, how are you feeling?"
Rhea responded by nuzzling her head against his shoulder, a small gesture of trust and comfort. Ansel rubbed her fur tenderly, feeling the gradual change beneath his fingers. Slowly, the blackened dust began to fade, revealing the familiar, soft coat beneath.
A wave of relief washed over him. He said with a smile. "Rhea, look at your fur. It is no longer black."
He continued to rub her fur one strand at a time, as if washing away the darkness that had settled on her.
The night air grew cooler, and the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter. For a moment, the weight of their troubles lifted, replaced by the quiet bond between boy and beast. They were bound that no fire, no darkness, could ever truly break.
Ansel was so absorbed in tending to Rhea's fur that he didn't notice the soft footsteps behind him. When he finally looked up, the first light of sunrise was spilling across the sky, painting the world in hues of gold and pink.
Standing quietly beside him was Mr. McVeigh. His expression was calm but tired.
"Grandpa..." Ansel said softly. He was surprised and exhausted in his voice.
"Didn't you sleep all night?" Mr. McVeigh's eyes narrowed gently.
Ansel shook his head. He glanced down at Rhea, whose fur was now slowly returning to its natural color but still bore traces of ash. "I'm busy cleaning Rhea's fur. Her fur turned black and full of ashes. Unknowningly, it's dawn already."
Without another word, Mr. McVeigh turned and walked away. He left Ansel and Rhea alone on the terrace.
"Grandpa..." Ansel called after him, rising quickly and following with Rhea at his arm.
"Grandpa how to defeat the creatures that brought Heka? I think if I defeat him, Heka can be free." He asked.
Mr. McVeigh settled into the terrace chair, picking up a steaming cup of tea. He took a slow sip before answering. His voice was steady but grave. "You will never be. Although you have to fight desperately."
Ansel sat beside him, the weight of the question pressing on his mind. "Is there another way? What about the Exorcist?"
Mr. McVeigh shook his head slowly. "I think if he is not a demon, an exorcist will not work at all. You know, the exorcist only expels, not destroys. Although you had kicked him out, one day he would definitely come back again."
Ansel's curiosity deepened. "Do you have an idea about who he is?"
Mr. McVeigh's gaze darkened, the morning light casting shadows across his face.
"I don't know... how about you?" Mr. McVeigh asked quietly. His voice carried the weight of uncertainty. It was clear he didn't know the creature that had taken Heka, nor did he have any answers about its true nature.
Ansel sighed deeply, the memory of his last encounter with Heka flooding his mind. He admitted, his gaze distant. "I don't know either. I also can't ask Heka."
He recalled how cold and distant he had been when they last met. How he had deliberately kept his distance, refusing to look at him. It was as if he no longer recognized him, or worse, had chosen to forget him.
That cold stung more than any physical wound. Ansel understood now why Heka treated him like a stranger, why he had shut him out so completely. It was a defense, a shield against the inevitable betrayal he must have felt.
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Mr. McVeigh's voice broke through his thoughts, firm and resolute. "It's better not to ask him. You should not meet Heka for a while. Unless, you are ready to kill him. Because your next encounter is killing him."
Ansel's heart clenched at those words.
The finality of Mr. McVeigh's advice settled over Ansel like a cold shadow. Yet, strangely, it felt like the best course of action. For Ansel, it was almost a relief.
He thought bitterly. "It's better for him to hate me and treat me as a bad person. In the end, I will sacrifice and kill him."
Distance was safer than confrontation. Trying to apologize to Heka now would only deepen the wounds. The pain of betrayal was far more terrifying than any physical attack. Ansel knew this all too well.
He thought about the scars left by enemies.
How multiple stabs could heal over time, leaving only faint marks.
But a single wound inflicted by someone close, someone trusted, could fester into a grudge that never truly healed. It would remain still, buried deep within the heart. A poison that could never be fully removed.
Despite this understanding, Ansel's resolve faltered. Doubt gnawed at him.
"But, can I kill Heka? What if I can't do it?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
He remembered how, before, his heart had been frozen, numb to pain, detached from emotion. Back then, it had been easier to act without hesitation or guilt. But now, his heart was thawed, vulnerable, and full of conflicting feelings.
Desperation pushed him to ask. "Grandpa how to freeze the heart like before?"
"No way." Mr. McVeigh's answer was blunt and final.
The hope Ansel had clung to shattered in an instant. There was no turning back to that cold emptiness. No easy escape from the torment of feeling.
Ansel's heart pounded. The path ahead was more dangerous than he had imagined, but he felt a flicker of hope. If he could understand his enemy, maybe he could find a way to save Heka and himself.
Yet, in the silence that followed, Ansel realized something else. Without that frozen heart, every choice, every action would carry weight.
He could no longer move through the world without guilt or sorrow. But perhaps, that was what made him human. What would make his final confrontation with Heka all the more meaningful.