The clouds were delicate and soft like velvet, but he was thrown down with such force that pain was inevitable. He did not have in him the strength to hiss or spit at the owner of the hands which dug into his shoulders, pinning him firmly down.

‘Chief, I have brought him over.’

The voice was detestably familiar, and on the point of hearing it, he trembled with rage and struggled against the foe’s painful grip. He opened his mouth to fire a curse, to proclaim the dissatisfaction he was experiencing at such treatment, but his efforts only resulted in winded coughing, worsened by the ruthless hand which now pressed into the back of his neck.

‘Still the same as usual… without a single soft side to his heart…’ The latter voice thundered as lightning flashed perilously, creating sparks of all shades which danced off every seemingly non-existent edge of the Heavens.

He finally managed to muster enough energy to raise his head a fraction and face the almighty Chief. He could not make out any face, or, in fact, any bodily outline. The Chief towered over, emanating dazzling rays of light which blurred his contour, resembling a large orb of luminosity in appearance.

With difficulty, he lifted his hand and shielded his eyes. ‘Let go of me…’ he managed to hiss, addressing the rival who stood behind with pleasure stamped across his handsome face as he him down onto his side without mercy.

He landed sorely on his right shoulder, but did not howl in pain; he would not let his enemy bear witness to any weakness in him. Instead, he clambered unstably to his feet and glared: at the incarnation of power seated dominantly on the regal throne, the black-winged enemy’s smirking face, and the silent, hushed crowd who dared not to breathe as they watched him stand before the Chief.

‘You can’t do anything to me, for I am the First Heir to the throne you sit on as we speak.’ He was infuriated, and held no sign of respect to the Chief, who now got swiftly to his feet. A thick strap seemed to materialize out of thin air, but before he could respond in any way to it, the Chief wielded it with amazing familiarity.

The strap slashed at his leg; he shrieked in pain and dropped. Looking down, the place where the strap had sliced at was now a gaping incision – the very site for his blood to trickle out. It resembled a miniature version of a silver, transparent river… so tranquil, immersed in its own serenity as it flowed steadily down his leg. The Chief looked on, unmoved, at the boy writhing in agony upon the silk-like Heaven floor.

The First Heir was striking in appearance despite the anguish and wrath which distorted his handsome features. His snowy-white wings spread open behind him into a large extension to his figure, his bleached blonde-white hair gleaming like the surface of a jewel under the Chief’s illumination.

‘Kim Jonghyun, rise and proceed towards me.’

The First Heir reluctantly obeyed, and, with a bitter scowl on his face, he limped towards the majestic golden throne.

‘What do you seek, Chief? It is not the time to pass on the supremacy, for I am not yet twenty-one years old.’ His voice shook as he struggled to contain his urge to fire out attack on the repulsive grin hanging off the rival’s face. He clenched his fists to suppress his anger and looked into the obscured face of the Chief.

‘No, indeed, it is not the time for an exchange of such significance,’ the Chief’s voice rumbled like thunder across the clouds, ‘however, the time for such an exchange to occur will take place whether you are ready for it or not.’

Jonghyun smiled victoriously over at the dark-winged enemy.

‘Surely, Chief, you are aware that I am ready for it whenever the time comes.’

‘Actually, Jonghyun, you are not ready at all.’

Jonghyun widened his eyes in disbelief, but quickly narrowed them in hatred as the shrill cackle resonated from behind.

‘And when the First Heir is unable to succeed the throne, the Second Heir does. Is that right, Chief?’ the opponent cooed.

‘Yes, Key.’ The Chief nodded. ‘Jonghyun, I must inform you that if you are not ready for the throne before sunrise on your twenty-first birthday, the Second Heir will succeed such an honour.’

‘Chief, bestow the honour upon me; this man is not qualified for it!’ gloated Key, in an attempt to persuade.

‘I am the First Heir; I’m sorry to have to rub it in on you, Key,’ Jonghyun sneered at the detested black-winged enemy. ‘I was the first person to join the Heavens on the night of the eclipse. You were the second. Following tradition, I consequently become the heir to the throne, and the Second Heir only stands a chance when the Chief himself deems the first to be truly unsuitable for such an honour – ’

‘SILENCE!’

The two figures hushed abruptly at the thundering command.

‘Jonghyun, what stands a possibility to deprive you of your inheritance is the absence of love in your heart,’ explained the Chief, his voice returning to normal but still carrying a definite sense of authority.

‘Absence of what?’ Jonghyun repeated incredulously.

‘Love. Ever since you joined us seven years ago, you bore the reputation of an arrogant throne successor who allowed no room in his heart for love or affection to others. You erected yourself a glorified sense of pride to your position and, as a result, you have failed to uphold the greatest virtue to our kind.’

Jonghyun rolled his sparkling eyes at the last words and tossed his fringe back; the different shades of gold streaked artistically along his hair dazzled and refracted the countless hues of the sunset.

‘Therefore,’ continued the Chief, ‘I hereby banish you to the human world below. Tomorrow marks your nineteenth birthday, and before the sun rises on your twenty-first, you must have learnt to love – ’

‘What, so you want me to go love humans? Those pathetic creatures who rely on their feet because they have no wings?’

‘HUSH!’ thundered the Chief. ‘Keep in your cold-hearted mind that you were one of them before you ceased existence in their world and joined us.’

The First Heir bowed his head, but his mind was racing. ‘So what, then? Fine. You can banish me there. I wonder what those mortals will think when they see some glowing boy walking their streets with a pair of brilliant white wings extending from his back!’

‘And that is why we will remove your wings before you descend to the human world.’

‘No! Leave me my wings!’

‘Key… bring me my staff!’

The Second Heir scurried off triumphantly and retrieved the long, golden rod, glistening, in all its grandeur, under the light radiating from the Chief.

‘Well, then I’ll just go back to living the way I did before my death, and forget about all of this. Things will just go back to the way they were – ’

‘No. You are still our kind. You still cannot recall any memories of your past human life, unless you come into very close contact with those who were significant beings during your mortal existence. I take away nothing of yours but your wings. You keep your magic and enchantment. And, of course, you will not go alone. Choi Minho!’

The tall and alluring young boy materialized in an azure globe of light, the grey feathers on his striking wings fluttering gently in the breeze.

‘Chief,’ he addressed humbly, bowing his head. His voice was low and subdued, giving off a gentle edge to his words.

‘Minho, I want you to go to the human world with the First Heir. Your responsibility is to follow him wherever he goes, keep an eye on him, and constantly remind this reckless fool of what his expectations are.’

The Chief then presented from within his robes a miniature ceramic statue: a white angel crafted from porcelain – except for its wings, which were comprised of glowing white feathers.

‘Take this with you as a reminder of your quest. The feathers on the angel’s wings will lessen gradually, the last falling on the morning of your twenty-first birthday. By then, if you have still not yet acquired a heart capable of loving, you will be forever trapped below and unable to return.’

‘What complete and utter nonsense!’ Jonghyun roared. ‘I warn you: leave me my wings, leave me my position as the heir, and leave me my life as it is!’

The Chief was insensitive to both the boy’s pleading and his discourteous tone of voice; he raised his staff and pointed it squarely at Jonghyun’s forehead. ‘When you find your true love’s first kiss, your wings will reappear: a sign to welcome you back to the Heavens with us; that is when you can succeed the throne and live the life you yearn for. For, truly, I tell you: a loveless ruler is no ruler at all.’

A jet of golden light shot from the point of the cane and illuminated Jonghyun’s forehead. He felt a warm numbness and strange sense of peace as the golden light travelled through his body. But the sensation did not endure for long before the torture overpowered – an excruciating slash seared through his skin, almost like an invisible sword carving its way down his backside; carving the very shame and humiliation he was experiencing before the crowd of whom he had always felt so superior towards. But before he could respond or even let out a holler of agony, his lungs were suppressed as though all of the air inside of him were being forcefully pushed out. And before losing consciousness completely, the First Heir began to fall, leaving, in his wake, a trickle of silver from the wound on his leg… the last thing he felt was the velvety surface of the clouds as he passed through them, sinking further below…