“I don’t know where we would dig to find it,” Bom sighed, her nails scratching on her wall, making a picture of the sacred place everyone was planning to find, “I don’t feel a connection with it anymore, so I can’t feel where it is.”

  “Alright,” Minho sighed, “Then we’re basing it off of what Onew can find. He’s the only hope we have left to find any possible way to get down there. But Bom, do you really think the water will light?”

Bom coughed a bit—becoming concerning for Minho—, “It’s been a long time. Prophecies are always meant to be fulfilled. I believe so. That I can feel.”

Minho stared at the drawing, watching her as she drew wings over top a deformed oval, “How does it feel? To be disconnected, I mean.”

Bom moved away from the wings and started etching something else in from the side of the Prophecy, sniffing, “Lost, Minho. Very lost and very alone. It’s like everything has been ripped away from you because you died.”

Minho’s spirit was being brought down by the very thought of it. Bom had lost basically everything since her first death—her family, her friends, her memories from thousands—maybe even millions—of years ago, and her home. Amnesia was the damnation forced upon her and killed her alive. To be alive while everyone else was gone was maddening to Minho. How Bom could still bear living, Minho didn’t know. Maybe it was hope for something—hope to find someone like him. He didn’t want to make himself high and mighty, but maybe Minho was truly all Bom had left for a sense of home.

Then it left Minho to think about everyone in the group.

Bom had lost everything when she woke up.

Jonghyun lost his entire sense of existence when he lost Kibum.

Onew and Luna lost the sense of reality in the true, normal world and were being forced to live this way all his life.

And what had Minho really lost? Taemin, his whole world, wasn’t actually gone and he was just stuck in this place in which he could find his way out.

Minho felt the greedy child within him. He had such small problems compared to everyone else and he had multiple heartaches and outbursts because of it, yet he felt he didn’t have the right to. Everyone else could have their heartaches and couldn’t change a thing about it. They had to wait for what they want or they would wait for something that would never happen.

Minho never felt so selfish in his life.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down.

Bom stopped etching the line and looked back at Minho, moving away from the wall and kneeling in front of him. Minho still couldn’t bring his head up from all the shame.

  “Your Majesty,” Bom called to him, taking his hands in her oddly-cold ones, “Your Majesty, rise thy eyes.”

Minho sighed, shaking his head, “Bom, now isn’t the time to speak like this.”

  “Thy Majesty is powerful,” she squeezed his hands, “And for any possible mistake he has brought to his people, he has been forgiven, truly noted his mistake was not for the purpose of inducing harm on others.”

  “What does this have to do with anything?” Minho finally looked up, face stoic.

  “Your sorry, Minho, does not need existence,” Bom nodded, “Your mistake in front of Taemin was not for the sake of harming him, but protection. It is not a mistake to deem that worthy of utmost sorrow. Your sorry does not need to exist because you are not lower than me, Minho. You know exactly how I feel—how we feel, for the matter. You did not cause us any harm, but given us hope of rejoice. Do not forget it.”

Minho looked back down again, giving any airy laugh without any amusement, “Can you already hear me?”

  “No,” Bom chuckled all the same, “I’m a healer. I can always feel any pain you have. Your face was enough.”

Minho looked back up at Bom again, the sense of wanting to share an ancient bond with her pouncing on his heart hard, forcing it to beat faster. He felt so sorry and so lost now without it. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t know why he was indecisive.

But he felt disconnected with her, like he once had a bond with her. He didn’t know what this was; it was like looking at her memories were the memories of his own; that they belonged to him too. As if he were really there. As if he lived during the time of her birth.

  “Why did you say that?” Bom quietly rasped; her eyes large and quite sad, mixed with shock.

Minho blinked, unaware he spoke before, “Say what?”

He swore he could see the water in her eyes before she moved in to hug him tightly, her body slightly shaking to her cry.

Minho followed through with her gesture, wrapping his arms around her so naturally, “. . . Bom?”

  “I missed you, too,” she whispered, “I missed you too, Daesung.”

Minho had come back to his room after working his millionth lap on the God-forsaken track. Tired, he was again, and he looked forward to bed, even though it was the middle of the day.

It was too hot for the end of July.

As Minho laid there, pulling his hair into a ponytail, the layout of the prison filled his mind. The gates were no problem now, so what was left besides the actual finding of the Prophecy was the escape route.

They planned to pick up Taemin, and from there, they would head to the furnace room. That consisted of three walls to walk through, a run through courtyard B (Minho learned there was three courtyards), which was the one out Minho’s window, another two hallways to run through and jump through another wall, find the elevator that led down to the area Minho knew so well; the hellhole he had to dig through. But they wouldn’t stop the elevator there—they had to take it lower to get to the furnace. From there, they had to find where to start looking for the way to the Prophecy.

Minho had hoped they way back was just as simple, but he knew it wouldn’t. SangJung would be alerted by now that three creatures, two workers, and Taemin were missing all at once and had relation to each other.

SangJung would have all the World War I and II soldiers on him combined.

And that meant needing to keep Taemin incredibly protected.

Minho wished that there wasn’t an indestructible metal net over the prison—he could just fly everyone out. But no, that net would only be destroyed by the Prophecy, and surely, he wasn’t willing to stay for that.

Taking outside would be utmost dangerous and easily gunned down. But the hallways were cramped, allowing novices to shoot them down as if it were target practice.

Minho got up from the bed and rubbed his face, leaning on the wall as he looked out the window.

It was sunny for once after a long while. It felt good to know at least one thing remained the same out of all his endeavors.

The Sun, being the ball of heat that it was, was technically Minho’s ‘happy’ source, as Seunghyun had put it. When it was out, Minho would be the happiest little child ever and when it was gone, Seunghyun had his happy days because that meant Minho was no longer a ball of energy that he had to deal with.

To think about Seunghyun felt saddening, though. Was he really still alive? Was Bom right?

Minho always hated Seunghyun. He was the absolute worst guardian anyone could ask for, and Minho thought it was just the way of the creatures, but it really wasn’t. Seunghyun was just sour with him, day and night, the only praises being “Good” or “You did well” after learning some sort of control over himself.

So it left Minho wondering why Seunghyun seemed to hate Minho so much.

But now knowing his parents died, Minho knew Seunghyun had a link with them. Minho didn’t know why they died, but the least he could think was that it was because of him. And maybe that’s why Seunghyun hated him—he killed his own parents, so he had to suffer for it.

Minho shivered at it.

To think he had parents was still strange. He’d always had this secret hatred for them, thinking that they just left him because it was the way of the creatures. Now he regretted feeling this fiery hate for them when they just died. Because they died, Minho couldn’t be taken care of by his own kind. He had been reliant on a best friend.

Now Minho could only feel sorry—to both his parents and Seunghyun.

Now learning Minho could have a real bond with Seunghyun, it was a scary daunting thought but at the same time, it felt natural. He would be afraid of the ‘Get your over to the house, this minute, or I swear, I’ll freeze you alive!’ but at the same time, if they were already bonded, Seunghyun would hear Minho right now, and even help escape.

Minho’s fingers touched the bars, looking out to the far away distance, wondering what Seunghyun was doing. Could he be in those trees, looking straight at Minho? Was he even bothering?

For the first time for months, Minho saw a black bird flying around the courtyard. It was odd; he never cared for birds flying in the sky before, but after months of never seeing one, it made a difference.

Minho jumped as his door screeched open, hastily shut with a woman’s breathing ragged.

He turned around and found Luna hunched over, catching her breath.

  “Luna?” Minho asked, sitting her down, letting her breathe, “Luna, what’s with the rush?”

She shook her head, face red as she leaned over on to Minho’s shoulder, “I—Ugh.”

  “Calm down, first,” Minho own head getting dizzy by her heavy breathing, “You’ll pass out if you keep going like that.”

He took out his hair tie and managed to try and fix Luna’s hair the best he could, decently pulling it up. A little messy, but he doubted Luna cared at this point with whatever news she had.

  “I can’t come here for a while,” she rasped out, “SangJung—” she breathed out again, “He’s put me under suspicion. He has me under watch by tonight.”

Minho furrowed his brows, “Why would you be suspicious?”

  “Someone reported me to be going to see Taemin without proper authorization, also seen me occasionally coming to your room, and more-or-so, I’m always the nurse that helps you, too. SangJung sees that pattern and concludes we’re up to something,” she buried her face into his shoulder, “It was going so well.”

Minho patted her back sympathetically, “Luna, it’s okay. We can lay low for sure, that’s no problem. I have no problem with knowing Taemin’s condition, for now. Because, you know what, whether Taemin does or doesn’t want to forget, I’m set on getting him out of here and blowing this hellhole. It’s alright; Jonghyun, Bom, and I can get this under control until Onew rises from the dead again at the end of the week.”

Luna perked up, grasping Minho’s shirt by both shoulders, “Another problem, Minho! Another problem!”

He held her forearms and motioned her to breathe, “What are you talking about, Luna?”

She shook her head, eyes wide and crazy, unable to keep up words.

  “Luna, stop, you’re a mess!” Minho sternly told her, partially shaking her, “Stop—!”

  “Jonghyun’s missing!”

Minho stopped altogether as Luna heightened in her panic attack. She grabbed at her blonde hair and started speaking about different subjects; what could harm them, who could die, the failing situations, failure in general, all the way to worrying about Sungmin. But Minho wasn’t paying attention.

Jonghyun went missing.

Jonghyun, one of the biggest pawns of their escapade fell of the chessboard and went rolling somewhere. Minho needed that piece! Minho needed Jonghyun!

Not only that, but if Jonghyun went missing this day than any other day, especially before Minho arrived, that meant serious business. Jonghyun was under attack somehow; he had to be. There was a threat leaking from a pipe somewhere, and Minho knew where the source was.

If SangJung put Luna under suspicion, then Jonghyun and Bom were, too.

And because Onew put in request to work in the furnace. . .

They were all under suspicion.

  “, , ,” Minho cursed, rubbing his face harshly, “Luna, are you sure—”

  “No one can find him,” Luna tapped on her teeth, “But there were no break outs reported yesterday. There’s always a nightly check up on the elder creatures because they always tend to form plans of escape. I’m not given access to security, and no one is reporting Jonghyun left. He’s missing in terms of SangJung moved him where he can’t be found!”

Minho swore venomously and hit his mattress. He felt the Daegrent inside him starting a fire that spread wildly and he wanted to lash out.

But he couldn’t. If he didn’t control himself, Luna may not even survive it. He just barely got through Jonghyun’s outburst, and Luna was human; fire was most definitely not her best friend.

It was too difficult. The calming methods weren’t helping. The thought of Jonghyun undergoing torture because of Jonghyun was infuriating.

  “Luna, get out,” Minho ordered, closing his eyes. Tips of white flame appeared in the midst of the dark and he knew he was about to lose it.

  “Minho, but then I can’t come back—”

  “That’s not a problem, get out and go get safe!” he roared at her, standing and backing himself to another corner of the room, “Safe!”

After that, Minho couldn’t remember what’d happened. His brain felt like it had shut off; as if he’d fainted. He didn’t know what’d happened when he woke up on the floor.

He was disoriented, but forced himself to jerk awake, hoping Luna was gone—which was a yes. Hopefully before whatever happened.

Through the evening light, Minho saw what he had done during his black out. Walls had ferocious dents in them, burn mark all over the walls and ceiling, a large dent in the door, his bed was still burning—Minho quickly tried patting and blowing on it to turn it into smoke—, and worst of all, Minho found his own body a burning mess.

Only once had Minho remembered an outburst like this, yet he hadn’t out during it. He didn’t understand why his brain went unconscious during it and he had to know why. When he’d get out, he had to know how to stop this from happening again.

Minho sat back on the floor in the corner by the window. He had forced Luna out of his room in her time of need—he was her last source of being able to calm down for the moment and he ruined it. She had to be hysterical by now, in the hospital wing as a patient, herself.

   “Damn it,” Minho wanted to growl, but it came out as an upset breath. Everything started going to ruins under two minutes.

Jonghyun was gone. Missing. Minho needed Jonghyun—the only real best friend he had in this place. Without him, it was like a part of himself was gone. He needed that back. He needed Jonghyun’s reassurance. His safety.

Minho wasn’t going anywhere without Jonghyun, the most loyal dog he’s ever known.

But where could he even start looking?

----Note~-----

Ello, ello.

Late as always. :P

There's not much I wanna say right now because I'm sick, but I'm on my way to victory with this fic!

The past week I've been getting new I deas so it pushes me to finish this one. Of course, not rushed.

Jonghyun's missing? OH NO.

WHERE IS HE?

I DON'T KNOW.

OR MAYBE I DO.

A a a a a aaaaaaaaaand, another surprise (two, actually) the next chapter that's a downfall. Take your guess.

I finally found out there was a 'statistics' option for fics, so I decided, why the heck not.

I'm not gonna say 'I'm disappointed' or 'Majorly upset', but I am shocked that, even though the fic (or let me say the forward) has past 2000 views, the chapters altogether have only gotten 700+ views.

Now, I'm extremely extremely thankful for that. But I'm just shocked that it's so much less than I expected. I didn't know the story actually caught short-attention.

But nonetheless, I'm always happy for any regardless. <3

So thanks you to everyone for keeping up. c:

~FlaMinhoe