Neil was trapped in a state between wakefulness and the blissful, desired sleep of the dead. He twisted and tangled himself up in the sweaty sheets as his body alternated between blazing temperatures and icy, freezing chills.
This was not a stomach bug.
When the pain came, it drove him out of his mind and back, several times in a row. He screamed and cried, but it seemed that no one heard anything at all, because not a single soul came to his aid, regardless of how desperately he cried and pleaded.
He could not reach his magic and exhausted and confused, Neil convinced himself that it was some terrible nightmare that couldn’t be over fast enough. Shifting around was painful, so he settled into the least painful position he could find and fell into an exhausted sleep.