“Are you finally awaking?”

What was that? That voice... did he know it? It sounded so familiar to him, but why did he not remember who it belonged to? Why could he not see anything? Had it always been so dark around him?

“Are you alright?”

There. Yet again. That voice, it sounded so... delicate. Was that her voice? His mother's voice?

“Come on, get up now!”

Strange, why was she shaking him like that? And her voice, it suddenly trembled. Was she scared? Why did she sound like crying suddenly? Did he hear her tears drip down? But why could he not see her?

“I will carry it out. The pain will soon be over, I promise!”

It was really Sandara's voice. He wanted to answer her, but it just did not work. His lips, they no longer obeyed him. He could only listen to her. Her trembling voice. She tried to lift him up, but she could not. She tugged his clothes. It was hopeless... He wanted to straighten up, but damn it, he could not stand up or move an inch. He had no chance to get up. A few steps away he heard a loud bang. Was it an explosion? Where the hell was the boy? What was he? Why did he exist even though he could neither see anything nor could remember something? She did not leave him behind. He was just a burden to her. Her? Who was she anyway that she clung to him? Why would she not leave him alone in his little dark world? What did he mean to her? What did she mean to him? Was that really his mother?

“Wake up you devil!”, a familiar voice snapped him out of it.

It was his father’s voice.

What was that? A dream?

“How- How long have I been… unconscious?”, Xiah mumbled all worn out.

He had to clear his throat briefly. His throat was dried up and he felt the pain again. The great king stared at him as always with this empty and cold expression. Almost three months had passed since the great king and the elders had captured the nineteen-year-old boy. Since then, he was chained up in the hall of the black temple. They withdrew his soul. It hurt really bad. It hurt like hell. They kept waking him up so that the process would not be interrupted unnecessary through his sleep. Xiah did not know what was crueler... His father, who went through with this torture on his own son, or the excruciating process itself.

They were afraid of him. They feared Xiah. He was a half-breed on rampage. They were afraid of the fire that simmered in his body. They were afraid of his abilities that he had inherited from his mother and had used to kill hundreds of innocent civilians. Blood was on his hands. Blood from children, women, and men. But soon it would be over. Soon Xiah would keep his eyes shut forever.

“It is about to happen! Have the Bujeok ready! His fire cannot beat the Ice!”, shouted an older person in the black temple.

It was the voice of the Elder of the tribe of Ice. Of course. This gruesome pack and their gruesome world would exterminate itself one day anyway. Even if Xiah could not take revenge entirely, one day everyone would get the end they deserved. And if he was destined to return one day, so he would, and that he promised, push everyone here into chaos.

“Ah!”, Xiah yelled and opened his eyes in agony.

This pain. It was unbearable. He clenched his teeth. He was about to faint again. No, a firm slap on his cheek pulled him back to the agonizing event.

“It will be over soon, my son. Soon you will be at ease... I- I am so sorry”, the great king Jaejoong whispered.