Alone.
Surrounded by distant screams, engulfed by flashbacks and consumed by pain. Was this the effect of Nome's arrows, or was I simply being forced to confront the emptiness buried deep within me?
Darkness clouded my vision. I couldn't tell where I was, nor whether I was even awake. My thoughts drifted through an endless void, each one dragging another painful memory to the surface.
Was this my mind?
Was this my heart?
Could I truly be this hollow?
Michael found himself wandering through his own subconscious, lost within an unending night.
I walked through the darkness, glancing left and right, searching for something, anything, that could give this place meaning. But there was nothing. No walls, no ground, no familiar surroundings. Only an endless blackness stretching in every direction.
Then I saw them.
Two distant lights.
One flickered like a dying bulb, struggling desperately to remain illuminated. Its glow was faint, unstable, as though the slightest breeze could extinguish it. The other shone with an intensity that seemed almost impossible, a brilliant beacon cutting through the darkness without hesitation.
I stared at them for a moment.
And then I understood.
The flickering light was my father, a lingering reminder of the past I could never completely escape. The other, bright and unwavering, was my beloved Elizabeth. She was the embodiment of every emotion within me that still dared to exist. Every feeling I had buried, every fragment of affection I had refused to abandon, every reason I still found myself moving forward.
Family?
I never knew the comfort of that word.
But I, Michael, never hated my father. No. I loved him.
Strange, isn't it?
I smiled at things others would curse. I accepted things others would reject. Perhaps that was what made me so peculiar. Memories of being beaten until my head bled, of being abandoned at strangers' houses for entire nights, were nothing extraordinary in my childhood. They were routine. Experiences that should have broken a child gradually became ordinary parts of my existence.
But the worst of it wasn't always physical.
It was the manipulation.
The quiet, deliberate attempts to shape my mind into something that would hate anyone who didn't belong to our tribe. My father would tell me:
"Love Igbo, hate Yoruba."
Simple words, yet they carried an entire world of division within them. In Michael's world, tribes divided us just as abilities did. People were separated by the things they were born with, the families they belonged to and the identities they inherited.
And yet, it was the Yoruba who made me feel understood.
They made me feel... alive.
Elizabeth, a Yoruba girl, became my world.
She was different from everyone else. She listened when I spoke. She cared when I was struggling. She saw something human in me, even when I struggled to recognise it myself. In a world where abilities seemed to have become more important than compassion, she reminded me that people could still be kind.
She became everything.
My compass. My schedule. My advisor.
The person I looked towards when I didn't know what to do, the person whose presence could make even the most miserable day bearable. Without her, I feared I would lose my direction entirely.
My feelings for Elizabeth were different.
They weren't born from obsession, need or lust. At least, that's what I wanted to believe. This love was something I couldn't easily explain, something that existed beyond the ordinary desires people seemed so eager to pursue.
I, Michael, who felt so little, had found something that made me feel everything.
Elizabeth made me feel close to human.
And so, no matter how hollow I became, I would rise for her.
But there was something I needed to say.
Something I had carried within me for far too long.
In this world of abilities, in this world overflowing with talent, in this world drenched in beauty but rotten with inequality, what becomes of those who have nothing?
Those of us without gifts?
Those deemed powerless?
We are overlooked. Forgotten. Pushed aside by a world that measures worth through strength and ability. There is no place for people like me, no refuge for those who cannot meet the world's expectations. We are expected to endure, to accept our shortcomings and somehow find a way to survive in a society that has already decided we are inferior.
But you, Elizabeth...
You saw me.
You didn't see a powerless boy who had failed to awaken his abilities. You didn't see someone who was lacking, someone who needed to prove his worth before deserving affection. You saw me.
You're not the first woman I've met, but you're the first to leave a mark on my life that I cannot erase. The first to make this colourless world feel alive.
When you're gone, everything fades to grey.
You're the only thread of humanity I have left. My only source of warmth, my only source of energy. And that's why, even if I have to kill, I would kill for you. Even if protecting you meant losing you afterwards, I would still do everything within my power to keep you safe.
My power may be limited. My abilities may be nonexistent. I may be nothing in the eyes of this world.
But all I want is to have you close.
Once, I thought I understood love.
I trusted someone. At least, Michael did.
I thought she was everything. I believed in her so completely that I would have given anything for her. Back then, I was still full of humanity. I believed in kindness, in loyalty and in the idea that people could care for one another without expecting something in return.
I was naive.
And in the end, that very humanity was used against me.
The only other person I had trusted, Lere, shattered what little faith I had left. He took what mattered most, stole it, twisted it and left me broken. All because I had been human. Because I had been foolish enough to trust, to believe and to hope.
Perhaps that was my greatest mistake.
Then there were my parents.
My father, the man whose approval I still found myself wanting despite everything, had spent so much of my childhood filling my head with hatred. He taught me to resent those who weren't Igbo, particularly the Yoruba. He wanted me to inherit his prejudices, to see people through the divisions he had accepted as truth.
But the more he filled me with hatred towards others, the more I found myself resenting my own blood.
Why must we be taught to hate?
Why are humans like this?
Why does kindness so often seem to be repaid with betrayal?
I want to love my father. I want to believe in him. Yet every day, he gives me another reason to question everything I once thought I knew about him.
And my mother...
My first love.
She was different. She could bring me peace with nothing more than a gentle touch or a few comforting words. She made me feel safe. She made me feel like a child again, innocent and free from the burdens that had gradually consumed my life.
With her, I didn't have to pretend to be strong. I didn't have to understand the cruelty of the world or find some way to survive it. I could simply exist.
But she was taken from me.
Taken by a god who didn't care, a being whose existence seemed to mean more than the lives of those beneath him. He let her slip away without a second thought.
Why?
Why can't I keep anything good?
Am I not worthy of happiness?
What have I done to deserve a life in which everything I cherish is eventually taken away?
I, Michael, have lived a thousand lifetimes in just eighteen years. Each one harder than the last. Each experience carving another wound into a soul that was already struggling to hold itself together.
Perhaps that was how I became this inhuman shell. Not through some extraordinary transformation, nor because I was born without the capacity to feel, but because I had endured so much that feeling became unbearable.
And yet, there was still one thing that could bring me back from that edge.
You, Elizabeth.
You're everything to me.
A mother. A friend. A protector. A lover.
You fill the emptiness inside me, the void that has swallowed everything else I've ever tried to care about. You give me a reason to look beyond the suffering, even if only for a moment.
I don't know what the future holds for us. I don't know whether the feelings we share will remain the same, or whether this cruel world will eventually find another way to tear us apart.
I only hope that whatever bond exists between us remains infinite.
I wish everyone else could disappear.
Every person, every threat, every obstacle standing between us. I wish the world could simply vanish, leaving only you and me. Somewhere untouched by cruelty, where nobody could hurt you and nobody could take you away from me.
Perhaps it was selfish.
Perhaps it was madness.
But in a world that had given me so little, I wanted to keep the one thing that made living worthwhile.
And then...
Something changed.
The darkness surrounding Michael began to fracture.
Tiny sparks appeared across the endless void, one after another, until they resembled stars scattered throughout an enormous night sky. Their light spread across his subconscious, illuminating the emptiness that had surrounded him.
Clouds drifted through his thoughts.
The ground beneath his feet began to take shape, and soft grass gradually spread across the darkness, carpeting the once-barren landscape. What had been an endless void transformed into something beautiful, something peaceful.
It was almost like a dream.
A vast field beneath a star-filled sky, with clouds drifting overhead and grass stretching as far as the eye could see.
Yet, despite its beauty, something was missing.
Warmth.
The landscape was peaceful, but it remained strangely empty. There were no voices, no movement, no signs of life. It was a beautiful world without anyone to share it with.
Much like his soul.
A vast field concealing an emptiness that no amount of beauty could fill. A place still haunted by memories of pain, betrayal and everything he had lost.
Meanwhile, in the real world, Michael lay motionless on the grasslands, drenched in sweat. His breathing was shallow, and his body occasionally twitched as though he were fighting something invisible.
Then a voice reached him.
Faint at first.
Distant.
"Ozor..."
The voice echoed through the darkness.
"Ozor..."
Something stirred.
"Wake up."
Michael's eyes flew open.
He blinked repeatedly, struggling to adjust to the brightness surrounding him. The darkness was gone. The endless night, the distant lights and the memories that had consumed him had vanished.
He was back in the grasslands.
The breeze brushed against his face, and the familiar sounds of the outside world slowly returned. His body still ached, but he was no longer wandering through the depths of his subconscious.
Beside him stood the girl he had saved.
Precious.
She stared down at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her expression suggested she had witnessed something she couldn't quite comprehend.
Michael tried to move, but before he could even gather his thoughts, Precious spoke.
"Michael..."
She hesitated, staring at him.
"You're... glowing."