Sorrow's Gift

Chapter Nineteen: The Boy

The boy crawled from his hiding place in the closet and felt across the floor for his flashlight. He had several stashed in different places in the apartment, but kept a small one near the closet door. He had chosen this one for its very dim light.

With the blinds and curtains closed, he didn't think it would be visible from the streets below, and he wanted to make sure he didn't draw any extra attention to himself.

He'd been dreaming of the old man again. Tobias. They had become friends in his dreams, talking about the past as if they had known each other for lifetimes. And maybe they had.

The boy liked it when the man spoke to him. The best part was that the boy could speak back. He'd struggled his entire life with a speech delay and his mother hadn't had enough money to send him to the kind of specialists his teachers had suggested. Instead, she'd taught him other ways to communicate through gestures and writing things down on a piece of paper.

He still wasn't great with spelling, but he knew most of the words he'd needed in order to tell adults what he wanted them to understand.

Still, he liked that he could talk in his dreams. He liked to hear the sound of his own voice and be free to say everything that was on his mind.

If it were up to him, he'd have lived in those dreams. But something had interrupted his conversation with the old man, and when he'd woken, the symbol had been burned into his mind like a brand.

The boy opened the door and kept the dim light on the floor, careful not to shine it toward the windows or the door where it might be seen by someone outside.

He needed to get to his notebook.

He crawled from the bedroom closet all the way to the living room on his hands and knees, moving so slowly he barely made a sound. Now that he knew something evil was looking for him, he had been very careful not to be noticed.

The notebook was just a small one that he used to carry around in his back pocket for when he wanted to write a message to his mom or his teacher. Last year when he'd started second grade, his mom had surprised him with an entire box of them.

Ever since the virus had taken his mother, he'd used the notebooks to draw the things he saw in his dreams. Anything that might be important later was put onto the page. Memories, conversations. He wasn't great at drawing, but he'd gotten better with practice. And he had a lot of time on his hands these days.

When he found it on top of the kitchen table, he pulled it down with him to the floor and lay on his belly under the table. He propped the little light up against the leg of a chair and flipped through the first few pages. He'd started a new notebook just a few days earlier since the first one was already full, so there were only five pages filled in so far. Each page had a single symbol drawn on it. One for each of the five he knew he was supposed to be with now that the Dark One had awakened.

His own symbol was first. A spiral. He'd started drawing this symbol about three weeks before the first reports of the virus. His mother had scolded him for wasting the paper, but he'd kept on drawing that spiral circle, knowing that there had to be some meaning behind it.

He understood now that they were an early sign of what was to come. The power that had awakened inside him was special and important somehow. A spiral, like the wind. Speed. Swiftness of thought.

He flipped the page.

He'd drawn a lightning bolt next. This was the symbol of the one who held the power to control machines and electricity. His ability was fire-based and powerful.

On the next page, he'd drawn a cross for the healer. His power was ice-based and ancient. The boy felt a calm fall over him whenever he looked at the cross. The soul behind the symbol was kind and strong. A protector who cared deeply about those he watched over.

Fourth, he had drawn a flower. A rose with a thorny stem, it's petals engulfed in flame. She had the ability to see inside people's minds and control them.

But it was the fifth symbol that had interrupted his dream that night. He flipped to the next page and ran his pencil over the infinity symbol, tracing it back and forth across its looped ends.

He closed his eyes, but his pencil continued to move along the lines of the symbol.

This one was special. Their leader. She held a power none of them could ever match. She was a rare witch, even amongst those in the world they'd originally come from. He could sense that she hadn't even uncovered the second half of her power yet, but it would come soon.

In his dream, he'd seen her symbol covered in blood and had felt her presence close by. Was she here in the city with him? His body trembled as he thought of her.

Just yesterday, he'd felt that she was far away, but now, he sensed her close. And she was injured.

He opened his eyes and stared at the symbol, his heart racing with fear.

She was his leader and she needed help. She was bleeding and scared, and she was alone.

Tomorrow, when the sun had risen and the rotters had gone back to their hiding places in the cool shade of the buildings, he would have to go and find a map of the city. He'd need supplies to take with him on his journey.

It was a risk, but he had no choice.

When the sun came up, he would start making his plan of how to reach her.