Made for Min | SOPE

twenty eight | "like father, like son"

Shock.

Despair.

Fury.

The smell invading Micah's nose was rancid, worse than anything he'd ever smelt. The smoke blinded his eyes, watering them, suffocating him as he tried to maneuver his way through the ember flames. He could feel the ember flames licking his unprotected body, leaving stings and small burns wherever it found possible. Perhaps the adrenaline was fueling his tolerance as the flames relentlessly threatened to scorch him whole.

It all seemed recent.

Was it reckless of him to try to see if there was anything— anyone in the village? From the sounds of his coughing and arms attempting to shield him from the heat, Micah would say yes, but his father had been there, and if there was any chance that he could be alive, well, Micah had to check.

Leave it to him and his apprehension towards the Purebloods. Micah was terrified of them, unlike his father, who always seemed a bit too excited to cross paths with them. Destined, perhaps, that his father, someone who thirsted on being in control, in acquiring all the chess pieces in the game. Micah was the opposite. He wanted nothing to do with the Purebloods.

But, from the looks of it, that's something he'd never learn to avoid.

"You're bold, Micah, for walking through the flames."

At the sound, Micah whipped his head around. He was met with someone he couldn't see, as the flames were too bright to let him see. All he could see was the faint silhouette of the figure, but he could only assume is that whoever this person was‚ if it even was a person, wasn't going to murder him.

"My father has control of the village," Micah attempted to say through coughs. "I have to make sure he's okay."

"No need for that, Micah Jung," the voice replied. "Your father, along with everyone in the village, is dead."

The little air in Micah's lungs left him, and his chest tightened, eyes blurring with tears at the sudden, calm revelation. Despite the sudden emotion, however, Micah swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke.

"Was it the fire?"

The person laughed coldly, the sound of it resonating through Micah.

"These flames have been burning at my control for the past three weeks," the voice said, "And it will not stop until everything that cursed this village has turned into nothing but ashes. You were a fool to try and come here."

"You did this?"

Another laugh, but no confirmation.

"If only you had power, Micah Jung, you could stand a chance." the voice mused. "You're weak. Human. Imagine how much that has cost your father. He didn't stand a chance against anyone. Not me, not the Purebloods. No one."

By now, Micah was shaking in anger. The flames seemed to have taken a life of their own, leaving him enough space to breathe normally, while still being limiting his vision. It was as if whoever was behind the curtain of flames was letting Micah have his space, and Micah didn't know how to feel about it. Was this person trying to help him? Give him advice?

"The royal family has abandoned you, Micah," the voice announced. "You went against them and lost their loyalty. What are you going to do now? Were you hoping your father would persuade them to have them at your side again?"

Micah froze.

"How do you know that?"

"I know a lot of things about you, Micah," the voice responded. "You have something which I have seen in no other human so far, and this war has been going on for years. Not even your father has the desire you have. You conspired to get rid of the Gwan line, a lineage that has been ruling since the beginning of time. Alas, you weren't powerful enough. You never will be powerful enough."