I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long and that this chapter is so short. Life has been so hectic and it's left me with little energy to put towards writing this story the way it deserves. I was scrambling to finish my manuscript, which then got rejected by the journal after only an editorial review, not even in-depth review. I've been working myself to the bone to get the extra data I need to rewrite it into something hopefully publishable.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. It means a lot to me. I will not give up on this story, I promise. I love it too much. So please just bear with me as I struggle through the impossible charade of work-life balance that is being a biomedical graduate student nearing graduation.

This chapter may or may not have been inspired by the stupid polar vortex I survived a few weeks ago...

He watched with abject horror as a blast wave moved towards him in slow motion, rippling lines of energy streaming out from the core of his being. Both all too soon and not quickly enough, the explosive force smashed into his existence and flung him away into the cool, dark recesses of his soul with which he was so far unacquainted. A flash of brilliant light pierced his awareness and he soon found himself struggling to breathe. As if hiking at high altitude, the air felt thin and inadequate. He scrabbled uselessly, his eyes too light-bleached to see anything, his fingers feeling nothing but cold, his mouth clogging with something thick and unforgiving. Exhaustion and asphyxiation won out and he slumped down into the snow drifts of his soul, unaware of the oncoming storm.

He woke to a world of blinding white and pernicious cold. Heavy, diffuse pressure hugged his entire body and he quickly realized that he was buried. He brought his hands up and started to frantically claw at the snow above his face, rapidly clearing out a small pocket for him to breathe. He continued to dig, ignoring the bright red of his fingers. A small patch of snow gave way and he triumphantly broke through to the air. However, save for the lack of resistance against his struggle, the sky was so blanched with falling snow that he couldn't tell up from down. He continued enlarging the opening so that he could stand, then instantly regretted it. Biting wind slashed at his face and the frigid air made his teeth ache, driving agonizing nails through his gums and into his jawbone. Cold like he had never before experienced infiltrated his clothes, leaving him feeling as exposed as the moment he was born. Knowing he needed to find shelter, he began pushing his way through the snow, his numb, red hands leading the way. A strong gust whipped the frozen icicles of his hair into his eyes, forcing his eyes closed out of sheer necessity. He urged himself onward, desperate to ease the burning, angry pain he knew was imminent frostbite. Something hard forced his arms back towards him, his hands too frozen to register sensation. He brushed away the coating of snow and found himself staring at ice so clear it could have been glass.

And there on the other side stood Lucifer.

He staggered back, his movement becoming uncoordinated as the chill pervaded his muscles and nerves. He spun and went back the way he came, forging a new path through the towering walls of snow. It wasn't long before he reached another solid barricade, the ice just as clear as the first. He went to the left, his right hand skimming along the barrier. Within seconds he discovered the wall was curved, and with that came a terrifying realization: he was trapped. Soon he was staring at Lucifer again. The angel had not moved, merely biding his time as his vessel fruitlessly struggled against his plight.

"What is this? What's happening?" he asked through a violent shiver.

Lucifer's eyebrow quirked up and he tilted his head slightly, examining the human as if he were an unusual zoo animal. In a way, he was. Lucifer opened his mouth to respond but paused and let out a sigh instead. He took a few steps forward and met the fearful eyes locked on his every movement. "Things are happening to you that no one was meant to endure. But the human brain is clever, I'll give Dad that. I think this is your mind's way of dealing with it, of shielding you from the trauma. Your soul is splintering. Say 'yes' to me, before it's too late. Before you're not you anymore."

He shook his head. "No, I can't. I'd rather stay here a thousand years than say 'yes' to you."

Lucifer crossed his arms and did his best to hide his irritation. "But don't you get it? What I told you before, it's happening. Your soul won't last much longer the way it's self-destructing. Why not exert the last bit of control you have over the situation?"

He pressed his frigid palms into his wind-whipped, tearful eyes, wishing more than anything that none of this were real. "No," he responded staunchly, masking his wavering resolve.

"Even if I could make all of this stop? Make everything better?" the devil plied, hoping the obstinate man would make the logical choice.

"No," he whispered. "A thousand years. I mean it."

Lucifer threw his hands up in exasperation then let his balled fists fall to his side. "Fine, have it your way. I'll be back. Much, much later."

With that promise, Lucifer disappeared. Violent convulsions wracked his body and he tried his hardest to control his flailing limbs. He slid down against the glacial structure, lamenting the frosty confines of his new prison.

He knew Lucifer was right. He couldn't hold out too much longer. But he couldn't give him the satisfaction of winning before his time. He would cling to his 'no' as long as anything vaguely resembling life flickered within him. Another strong gust of wind ripped through him and he felt his matchstick flame get just that tiny bit smaller.