He drifted. He felt himself sinking.
Michael.
Alderheart was different, now. It was strange. There weren't any people, be they humblefolk, or bird. There were no smells. No sounds. The streets loomed vast and wide, like the maws of monsters, now that the lights were all out.
Michael.
He didn't know how long he was walking. He couldn't even be sure he was walking. All he could be certain of, was that sometimes in the dark, he saw a raccoon's face. Sometimes it was scarred, and he saw a sneering, broken grin beneath its mask. Sometimes there was a strange mark on its forehead above the mask, and the eyes were black pits full of stars.
Michael.
He was sitting at the top of the great tree, now. A kite hung in the air. It literally hung there. There was no wind, yet the colourless paper dragon remained where it was, a string wrapped around its neck like it was a pet, drawing down from the heavens, and ending in the hand of…
Hello, Michael.
"Hey, Gaspard," Michael answered. He looked up into the sky. The clouds were all gone, replaced by stars that seemed to be wearing masks.
It's been a while, hasn't it?
"Yeah," Michael replied with a nod. He felt a chill run through him, as the blackness between the stars shifted, and pulsed. It made him uneasy.
"Have you seen my dad?" He asked Gaspard. He looked around, half hoping to see his father's head peaking at them from the one of the branches. The other half was waiting for the broken teeth, the scarred face, and those long, awful blades.
Not recently, Michael. Sorry.
"That's okay," Michael sighed. He felt tired, and hopeless. There was something else, too. He felt cold, except in one place. It was warm there, but it was fading. As it did, the cold everywhere else grew. The tips of his toes and fingers were starting to go numb.
"Am I dead?" Michael asked.
Not yet. You were close this time, though. But even if you were, you know not to be afraid, right?
Michael nodded. The numbness had stopped, and was retracting. The heat in his belly began to spread, but it wasn't a warm, pleasant kind of feeling, like someone gets from drinking hot chocolate after coming in from a cold day. Pain walked at the side of the heat. A terrible pressure was spreading to his chest, bringing a sudden onrush of agony with every breath. Through it all, Michael became aware now that the string of the kite was in his hand.
You be a good boy now, Michael. Be brave, be kind, and be honest.
The pain was unbearable, and yet it kept coming on in waves, driving away the watching dark with a burning, searing light.
"Is my mum okay?" Michael managed to ask, somehow. He was blind now. His face was hot with tears.
She's fine. She's worried about you, but the Mayor told her what's up.
He was losing his balance where he was sitting. A million black branches billowed underneath them, with grins and flashing blades waiting in the shadows between.
I'll let your dad know to come home, if I see him before you do.
"Thank you," groaned Michael. The pain made him double over, at last. The dark, awful place below now rushed to meet him.
And just like that, Mickey Tanner woke up.