Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Thirty Eight: Strangers At Dawn •EDITED•

Philip woke up with a groan that he immediately choked down out of habit. Noise often led to unneeded trouble.

If he was to say what had bothered him first, the unbelievable pain or how comfortable he was, he would choose the latter.

Pain was something he was used to but this was different. The feeling reminded him of the time his grandfather had told him about heaven and hell, the places he had never thought existed.

It had been a new concept. That when souls departed, according to their deeds on earth, they were rewarded—or punished—with an afterlife, either to be free in a city of clouds or to drown in a lake of fire, for eternity.

Maybe I have died and this is my afterlife? The one the Order claimed didn't exist. That was the first thought that fluttered into existence in his now conscious mind.

He had to admit it, a life of pleasure did sound enticing. . . According to the Order, being assimilated into the Code would either be painful or numb. That was the one thing he didn't like about what the Books said regarding death.

But Issac. The new thought forced his eyes open, forming another idea in his mind, one he had almost forgotten.

What was an afterlife without a purpose? How ironic would it be if he had died the moment he just caught a glimpse of happiness?

Philip was tempted to banish the thought and accept his fate but the nagging feeling that he would regret it stung him painfully, hurting more than than the hole he knew was in his chest.

As he kept his eyes open, soft rays of orange light flooded his gaze, not startling enough to blind him but bright enough to show him where he was—on a cozy floor, surrounded by warmth.

If this was heaven Philip wouldn't doubt it one bit.

It had been so long since he had been this warm. It was like being swaddled in layers and layers of blankets and yet he felt nothing around him. The heat tickled his skin and somehow dug into his bones at the same, making him feel fuzzy from the inside out.

Comfortable was an understatement.

The other thing he noticed, once his brain fully registered his unnatural warmth, was his naked chest.

He was shirtless.

The situation hit him like a ton of bricks. If he didn't have his mask then how was he breathing?

The fog. . . Where is Issac?

"Glad to see you awake," a soft voice spoke from above him and Philip finally shifted his gaze from his uncovered torso.

What he saw was a boy. With long locks of blonde hair framing a tender face he couldn't quite focus his gaze on, Philip pegged the child to be in his fourth quarter—no older than twelve.

"Where is he. . ." The messenger tried to speak, but his words broke off into silence, his throat sore and pained.

The boy rolled his eyes, as though expecting the unasked question, and took a step back to reveal Issac asleep in a corner. "As soon as you can walk, you should leave. . . both of you."