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A presence touched Simon’s cheek.
He opened his eyes—and actually saw, through the endless darkness. A rich, pulsing blue light hovered at his feet.
“Zach?” His whisper scraped out of his throat, more breath than sound.
“God—Simon.” Zach’s voice brushed his skin. “I’m coming to get you—”
“No—” Simon fought to move, and managed to inch one hand toward that light. He had a damn good idea now what had happened to him, and Zach’s potent energy would trap the boy here forever. He’d gladly endure in order to keep Zach safe. “Don’t—you have to leave me—”
“Not happening, Simon.”
“Zach—I’ll get myself out—”
Agony drove through him, and he bowed off the hard surface of his prison floor.
“Simon!” The light spread over him, and through the stabbing pain he heard a prayer. A familiar prayer, of protection, spoken for him. “Hang on, I’m coming for...”
Zach’s voice faded, taking the light, and any hope, with it.
Simon clutched at the icy floor, letting the quiet words fill his mind, repeating over and over.