Burning. Wrapped in fire. Arix was again aware of himself as separate from the darkness, and he knew that he couldn't fight it. But he couldn't give in again.
Sounds registered-clattering, scuffling, Steve's voice asking "what did you do to him?" There was a noncommittal ccrrrr from nearby. Something batted softly at his cheek, rolling his head to face upwards. He opened his eyes. Mulberry flakes drifted down over him with a cool tingling sensation. The dark form crouched above him placed a hand over his eyes and began to purr again. "Um. Michael? What is that noise?" Singing, thought Arix, for reasons he was never sure of: it didn't sound like singing, but it was somehow reassuring and he clung to it. Just hearing it made him feel a little better. But it agitated the darkness, which surrounded him, torturing him with his own helplessness, nattering and laughing. It was no longer kind to him. He was an enemy. "Michael, you're scaring me. Please tell me you're not going to eat him." all at once a great rage rose up in Arix. He recognized the enderman's song. He'd heard it before. Not Arix, but the other. No not them. Him.

A far-off darkened planet where the sky was shadowing smoke and the earth had been stripped down to bedrock. Endermen wandered the pale naked rock, turning it almost black with their numbers. All were singing with a constant drone that scrambled thought and made him shake with fury. Over them flew an immense dragon the color of obsidian with a steely gleam to its hide. There was something terribly familiar about that dragon. It spun back through the air, diving down towards bedrock, mouth open in a scream. It was the scream of a creature that was unwillingly bound. Endermen teleported away from the place where the dragon's head rammed down, and where it had touched, the rock blackened and ate away into a crate of nothing. One enderman hadn't gone far enough, and the dragon lashed it with the tip of its tail as it soared back to the darkened sky. The enderman screamed, and although the sound was nothing like a scream Arix understood it for what it was. It teleported rapidly, trying to shake off the contagion eating into it. Slowly it began to dissolve into black powder. The dragon screamed from the sky, and Arix knew he had heard that voice somewhere, somehow, but not as a dragon screaming—

He shook off the enderman's hands and bolted up, heaving. "Arix! It's OK, just calm down." he blinked. There was Steve, holding a jar, looking very worn with his hair sticking in all directions. "…Arix." Steve was gaping at him. Arix saw his own eyes reflected in Steve's. They were a muddy green. The enderman linked Steve and Arix in its long arms and the knowledge swam into Arix's head that he was dying. It had lost control and now it was going to kill him. Steve looked up quickly. "Not yet." Arix turned to look at the enderman and his eyes met the shining amethyst stars in the creature's head. For a split second, not long enough to comprehend exactly what was happening, he felt a deep connection with the creature. It closed its eyes and jerked away, hissing. A trail of sparks crossed the room to where it suddenly stood against the far wall, shaking its head violently. An eerie whirr that seemed to come from all directions at once started up, rising from the walls and floor, gradually swelling and distorting. Steve pushed Arix down and covered him with his body. "Get down. Michael!" the enderman, its whole body shuddering, trailed particles around the room with rapid-fire teleportation. Steve was torn away with a cry. The enderman beat him against the floor a few times and then disappeared. The whirring decreased in volume and crashing noises came from somewhere far below. Arix wondered if it was trashing Steve's basement. Steve lay motionless for a few moments, clutching the jar protectively against his chest, then slowly pushed himself up onto his knees. "Well that was very considerate of him, attacking me instead of you." he began to drag himself toward the bed. "You've just got to count your blessings with endermen."

Arix didn't quite fall unconscious but he wasn't sure exactly what was going on. Steve was undressing him and removing his bandages, he thought. Who was the dark form standing in the corner? Or was it just a shadow? It if was a shadow how could it look at him like that? "—and if you don't die first, this'll probably kill you, but if it works—" something like gelled fire was smeared across his skin and he screamed and lashed out. He couldn't get up. "Sorry, I've got you tied down. I know it hurts—" his nails lashed against something soft and Steve grunted. "Should've got the arm too. Hold still, this isn't nearly the worst you've had to put up with." yes it was. He kept screaming. At least, he assumed that the screaming noise was him, and not the thing crawling through the leaves. Steve kept working, but his voice was strained. "Aaaaaah. Calm down, Arix, stop it." he didn't. Steve slapped him across the face with the stuff. "SHUT! UP!" Arix lost consciousness.

Night came, and Steve sat near Arix's bed, watching, turning an uneaten apple over and over in his hands. He had survived the cure so far, and one large blood transfusion, which had killed Steve—not that that mattered much. He'd deal with the fact that his hands were shaking later. He'd died before. He probably would again, before the night was up. Maybe more than once depending on how well Arix did: he was convulsing rapidly, a good indication that the treatment was working. And also that it might kill him at any minute. But it was working. Steve sighed and tossed the apple more quickly from hand to hand. The question was whether the blood would kill him. The blood from the transfusions never bothered a zombie, but sometimes, when one was successfully healed and almost human again, the blood in their veins would react negatively with their human body and kill them at the last moment. And there was still the fact that, apparently, the corruption was trying to kill him. He wasn't going to get his hopes up. He held Arix steady for a moment so he could look at him. Tattooed sigils and decorative lines traced down his body. He was tall and compact, bearing the evidence of a hard life in a map of scars and lean hard muscles. How old was he? Steve felt that he was very young, but he looked close to Steve's biological age, not more than a few years younger. There had been nothing personal in his belongings, only tools and a few items he'd picked up. He'd said he was a scavenger. Steve wondered what had driven him to choose a solitary life with such a high risk of death and such little respect. Maybe a reckless streak, maybe a feeling that he had nothing to lose and riches to gain. And he knew that Arix didn't like the city. Every year settlements on the outskirts were overrun and had to be torched. Survivors ended up on the streets and tried to find something to do. Maybe he'd been one of them. His nose was pointed, and hair with a suggestion of wave fell to his shoulders. It was a color between straw and dirt. More dirt at the moment, as there was quite a bit of actual dirt caked into it. Blood seeped from the loose bandage he'd applied to the stump of his right arm—he couldn't risk cutting off circulation and interfering with the cure by leaving tight bandages on. This was going to mean wasting a lot of blood. Steve let go of him and sat back, looking at the apple. It was going to be a long night.

Arix's next memory was of running down a tunnel where the walls dripped with blood, splashed into maddening hieroglyphs. The tunnel stretched endlessly before him as he ran. The walls began to melt, splashing around his feet. Someone was screaming. He was screaming.

A shadowed humanoid form faced him. Maybe a zombie, the stench was like one. As he watched, it fell apart into tatters of darkness which spread until he was floating in the void, helpless, in pain, lashing out and biting at his wrist as the darkness chattered around him.

He was glad that he couldn't clearly remember any more than that. Now and then, images would surface from that time and leave him sick for hours. But they faded. He became aware of the terrible jerking pain in his body. And cold. He was so very, very cold. Something prodded at his arm, and warmth flooded his veins. He lost consciousness again.

Sometime later, he became aware of the sound of birdsong.

A/N: 25 chapters in and I finally decide to give you a full physical description of the main character. Hey! It was dark earlier! What was I going to say, "you can't see him because it's dark but this is what the dude looks like"? Oh wait, I actually did that for his original eye color. But, but it was important to the story!
So is he going to die or live? At this point, dying would probably be much less traumatic.
Also, yay 25 chapters! I wasn't sure it would get to this point, but here we are.