Regina: Yes, I am still alive, in case any of you were wondering. I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while. It's just that there was school, and then I went to Germany, and then everything got screwed up by my being away for three weeks. But on the upside, I did have fun, and I ate lots of yummy foods! Another downside, I did not see any blue fuzzy dudes. Damn it. And I missed an expo which had Chris Claremont as a guest. Damn it even more.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this new chapter. Show me how much you enjoy it by reviewing!

In The Dreaming

Chapter Eight: Kiss of Ice, End by Fire

John is once again in the world of darkness. But it has changed dramatically in the short time since he had last been there. Any warmth that had once been there has instead been replaced by a chill that hung in the air. He watches, wide-eyed, as his breath freezes in front of his face.

But he ignores this startling change, his mind focused on one thing, and one thing only.

There is only one thing he can think of, and it is the one thing that has been plaguing his thoughts for so long, he can barely remember life without it.

"Amara!"

There is no reply, but John is not going to give up that easily. He is going to try his hardest to get Amara back, the girl who has caused such an amazing change within him, and although he barely knows her, he knows that he has to have her in his life.

It would be no life without her. One he feels he would not be able to live.

And so that leaves him with only one choice, one decision which he does not question, one act he does not hesitate to commit.

His voice fills the darkness, and it almost ripples with the inferno of emotions.

"Amara. I'm coming."

X X X

"So. . . cold."

Amara can see nothing, feel nothing except darkness and ice. She is still encased in the mysterious power that stole her away from the world of light and fire - the world in which she belongs.

She screams once as lightning pain passes through her body, feeling as if every nerve is being frozen, her body becoming ice from the inside ice. Desperately, she thinks of everything that she is made of: fire, heat, lava, love. But it is to no avail. The relief is fleeting, and Amara's head drops onto her chest. She cannot stand one more of the darkness' attacks.

She is defeated.

The darkness has won, and soon it will claim its prize.

"John. . ."

X X X

Never before in his life has he been so cold. Never has he felt so alone, so desperate.

But never before has he felt love quite like this. Or even love at all.

The love that can move mountains, dry up oceans, melt glaciers. . . John feels as if he will do all of these things for Amara, to save her, to see her smile.

The strangest thought occurs to him. For a man ruled by the power and glory of fire, he was quite cold. He lived a glacial existence, his heart made of the bluest ice that has never seen the sun, never felt its warm rays touch its surface.

But now the light of Amara's smile has touched his skin, melted away the ice in his heart, leaving a blazing inferno in its place. He will burn everything in his path if it means freeing her from this prison.

A cold wind blasts him, bringing him to a stop. A voice echoes in his head. It is everything that is this world. It is the darkness of a moonless night, the cold of an arctic wind. It is the voice of nightmares.

Do you think you can save her?

The voice is like a knife, plunged deep into John's brain. But as strong as the pain is, he refuses to give in. Although unstable, John stays on his feet.

I asked you a question.

"I will save her!" John answers, yelling at nothing, yet at the same time everything.

Can you, really? She cannot even save herself.

John grits his teeth, but says nothing.

You think that I am lying. See for yourself.

The darkness parts, revealing Amara, suspended in the air in front of John. At first, John is so elated that he runs to her, not seeing everything. Then he stops.

"What have you done?!"

What is necessary. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Amara is exactly as John remembers her, except that her dress in black, and she is covered in ice, beginning at her feet, and reaching to just under her arms. As John watches, the ice advances another centimetre.

Fire is life. Surely you know that. Even the darkness needs to live.

"Then why do you have her?!" John does not question the fact that he is talking - no, yelling - at nothing but darkness. "Give her back!"

What do you think I have been feeding on?

John's heart stops beating.

Fire is life. . . ice is death. I am ice, she is fire. But not for much longer. Soon I will be fire. . .

"No!"

. . . and she will be ice.

With each passing second, the voice has been growing stronger. The air, too, has been growing warmer.

Is this because the darkness, this thing which has been draining Amara's power to help itself, has been growing stronger, feeding on living fire, which it regards as life?

John does not know.

Soon I will be free from this prison. So long have I waited, trapped here. So long have I waited here, waiting for the one thing that can free me. And now I have her, and she is giving me life.

The ice grows even further. Has it reached her heart? John wonders.

But I am not cold as ice any more. I will grant you one last thing.

John watches in wonder as the ice begins to recede.

I will let you say goodbye. Before the end.

Amara's eyes flutter open. "John?" she whispers, almost not believing what she is seeing. "Is it really you? Not another trick?"

Hope fills John with warmth. She is still alive. For now.

He crosses the last of the space that separates the two of them, and takes her hands. They are like ice, almost painful to the touch. But he endures the pain, knowing that if it was like this for him, he would not be able to imagine the agony and torment that she was suffering. And all because this. . . thing. . . was draining her of all her powers.

And the reason Amara had been chosen was because of her mutant abilities. The same abilities that had drawn John to her, or so he thought then.

The power of fire. The power of life. Which is what made her so powerful, and amazing in John's eyes. The power that linked them in a way that no one else would be able to contemplate, let alone understand.

Their powers. . . the power of fire. . . that was what it wanted.

John knows what he has to do.

"Take me instead," he tells the darkness. "Take me in her place."

Silence.

"Let her go, and take me instead!" John shouts, his voice echoing, as though they were in a small space. "Can you hear me?!"

I can hear you. But it is just not possible.

"Why not?!"

There is no need to shout. It is not feasible that I use you instead of her. I had considered you in the beginning, until I realised that I would never be able to free myself if I drained you.

John feels anger build up even more as he feels Amara struggle to take a breath, but he says nothing.

You were the first one I found. The first one with the connection to fire. But then I learned that you could only control it, not create it. But then I found her.

There was something almost affectionate in the voice. For the first time it had shown a sign of being more than an inanimate thing

Amara's hands grow even colder, and her eyes, too, grow darker. John knows he has very little time left.

But what to do?

The little fire goddess, the one who is life in every way. She was the key. But I needed you to bring her to me.

The voice stops talking about itself and how it found Amara.

But that is irrelevant now. You must say goodbye now.

"John. . ." Amara whispers, her voice so quiet John has to strain to hear it. "I love you. Goodbye. . ."

He grips her hands even more tightly. "This is not goodbye, do you hear me?" he tells her firmly, staring directly into her dull eyes. "We can fight this!"

"I can't. I'm too tired. Let me sleep. . ." She smiles fleetingly. "I'll dream, and we can be together. Forever. Kiss me goodnight, John. . . please."

John does not have the heart to refuse her. Her lips are like ice as his touch hers, and the tears have turned to ice, caught in her lashes.

A sudden warmth fills his hands, while a sudden rush of ice fills every other part of his body. He pulls away in shock to see Amara suspended in front of him, deathly still.

The ice which she has been encased in increases, claiming the last of its prize. Warm tears travel down John's cheeks as he realises what has just happened.

It has ended. Now I will be free!

John stands still as a statue, almost disbelieving. Amara is gone forever. Nothing can bring her back.

The warmth in his hands is still there, and he looks down. There, on his palms, are two tiny flames: Amara's last gift.

He turns away from Amara's frozen body and extends his hands. Never before has he felt such purpose, never before has he needed to do something so strongly.

"You will pay for this!" he shouts as he summons reserves of power that he never thought he could posses.

Fire explodes from his hands in a way not even he has experienced before, consuming everything around him, save Amara.

If the one thing he loved was dead, then he would destroy the thing that had taken her life.

Even if it meant destroying himself.

The world continued to burn.