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[attr="class","textbox"]Jayden didn't hear Isaac. He didn't see Isaac. He didn't even seem to know Isaac existed. He was lost in his own world, and that world lashed out like an unsealed demon.[break][break]

A foreign feeling crept through Isaac's body. His muscles quivered. His teeth chattered. His fingers and toes curled ever so slightly. Nevertheless, Isaac refused to hesitate. He pushed himself into the storm of hatred, deeper and deeper by the moment, not even caring as his vision gave way to a blur of white.[break][break]

It was only then that it occurred to Isaac, for the first time in half a year, he was cold.[break][break]

His blessings had no power here. This wasn't a cold of the body. This was a cold of the soul, made manifest by a man in the grasp of a monster. It wasn't Isaac's body shivering. It was his spirit. It wasn't his legs bogged down in the snows. It was his conviction. It wasn't the warmth draining out from his body. It was his cares.[break][break]

The more he slowed, the worse it got. Snow blinded his vision, Jayden little more than an impossibly distant silhouette. Razors of ice danced along the wind, carving deep gashes along his arms as he threw them up to protect himself. He tried to shout, but howling wind drowned his voice out, leaving barely an echo behind. For a moment, Isaac wondered if this was where he'd die.[break][break]

Then, half buried in the snows, Isaac could see that familiar face.[break][break]

A raging inferno of inner warmth pushed against the storm of hatred. Isaac couldn't end this storm, but he could damn well force himself to keep moving. Blood trailed behind him with each step, staining his path through the snow crimson. The tips of his ears and fingers started to turn blue. It didn't matter. None of it did. Not if it stopped him from being at Ash's side.[break][break]

It was only when he reached Ash's side that he allowed himself to fall to his knees. Something crunched beneath him. Was it snow? Was it chilled grass? How much of this storm was reality and how much was metaphor? Isaac couldn't be certain, so he ignored it all. Not when the only certainty that mattered lay before him, dying? Dead?[break][break]

This, too, was uncertain. But what was certain was that, as he gingerly lifted his brother off of the ground, he'd pull against the reaper with all his might.