The Legends of Kartas | Ongoing

12. BRANDED

It should've been you.

All Yoongi felt was pain. He didn't know its origin, but it hurt. Everything hurt. He didn't even know where he was, but he felt fingers wrap around his neck and nails dig into his skin. The fingers released him, and he choked for air, about to tumble to his knees when his surroundings dissipated into mist and reformed into a familiar nightmare.

Blood pooled beneath him, ripples leading to two kneeling bodies: his mother and brother. They laid amid crimson, limp and cold, when orange and yellow burst all around them. Fire flitted atop the blood and singed their skin, the acrid stench of burnt flesh permeating Yoongi's nose.

Don't look, Yoongi!

He gagged, covering his mouth and closing his eyes, but a presence stood before him, demanding that he watch every second. Those eyes. Those goddamned eyes glared at him, forced him. He couldn't help himself as his eyes opened and a blinding fire dried his tears. There were screams and pleads from his mother as her skin curled and disintegrated into cinders, the flame devouring her.

No!

She went silent, but his brother still wailed, his back undulating and neck spasming. Sparks flickered in Yoongi's palms and exploded into flames that danced towards the inferno, feeding it as it continued to destroy everything he loved.

Stop!

He hugged his arms and held the flames down. Anything but fire. Please, anything but that. But he was overwhelmed. Sparks crackled all over him as flames coiled up his arms, his blood boiling with power that erupted all around him. The livid flames expanded as his brother's cries diminished, and he fell, facing Yoongi.

It was supposed to be me.

Yoongi crumbled to his knees, the fire inching closer and closer. Gazing into the flames, he found his brother's dull, lifeless eyes, and he swore his mouth moved, voicing the origin of his perpetual torment.

It should've been you.

* * *

Yoongi gasped and awoke to darkness. His head was pulsing, and his eyes were throbbing as they wandered to moldy floorboards and a pair of worn shoes.

Where am I, he thought, blinking and groaning. He was propped against a wall, his body stiff and sore. His memories were fuzzy, but he recalled that the Tryda had ended at nightfall and that he had roamed the streets of Rubridus, searching for something he couldn't remember.

The shoes moved, pacing around the room he didn't recognize. He couldn't speak or even lift a finger, and his heart pulsated in his ears, each thrum weaker than the last. The shoes stood before him again, and he felt fingers threading through his hair. It wasn't comforting at all, but since he could not jerk away, he endured it.

Another pair of shoes appeared in the corner of his vision, and the fingers left his hair. Voices were muttering to each other, and there was a sensation rolling through Yoongi's bones that advised him to listen. So he tried, focussing solely on the voices, but the pounding of his heart drowned everything away.

The conversation ended, and a blurry figure kneeled before him. Their mouth moved, but all he heard was jumbled sounds of nothing. Fingers weaved through the strands of his hair again, but this time, his head was tugged back.

His scalp burned as the blurry figure leaned closer and whispered, "You suffered for so long."

The voice was familiar yet oddly foreign. It was a voice Yoongi felt he should remember, but he was uncertain.

"You wondered all this time, scouring for a reason why you were spared that day." Yoongi's head was forced to the side, exposing his neck. "But don't worry, child. Your misery ends here because I know the reason. I know your purpose." Hot breath tickled Yoongi's skin at the juncture where his shoulder met his neck. "You were made for this."

The last thing he felt was teeth sinking into his flesh.

* * *

Yoongi awoke in a cold sweat, and he would've been screaming too if he could breathe. Desperately trying to force air into his lungs, he clutched his throat as his eyes darted around his room.

When he noticed the case of pills on his dresser, an idea formed in his mind. He rolled off his bed, his body smacking against the floor with a thump. All that raced through his head was that this was happening because he didn't take his wretched pill.

He was wheezing, his nails cracking as he crawled towards the dresser and scaled it. The tips of his fingers were stretched to their max, barely touching the case once—twice—when it tipped over and fell into his hands. His body was writhing when he popped the lid open, placed a tiny tablet between his teeth, and cracked it in half.

The pain felt like lightning shocking him. His back arched as the seals written on his body reappeared and glowed with a newfound light, his skin tightening and his blood flow restricting. His lips parted in a silent scream as his vision was tinted with red, and for a heartbeat, everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself sprawled on the floor, his breath shallow. Pushing himself to his knees, he noticed blood dripping from his nose. The color was a black that slowly blended into scarlet, and wiping it away with the back of his hand, he distinguished the fading runes of the seal painted on his skin.

Forgetting his blood, he rushed to the new mirror. Tearing his silk tunic open, he exposed his neck and studied his reflection. All that stared back at him was pale skin and intricate runes that eventually dimmed to nothing. Sighing, he dropped to the ground and buried his face in his hands, trying to relax in the silent darkness when a knock came at his door.

"Your Highness, is anything the matter?"

A guard.

"All is well," Yoongi replied, and silence reigned once more as he recalled his vivid visions, the voices, the bite, the fire, his brother—

It should've been you.

A pause. Yoongi rested his elbows on his knees and chuckled as he shook his head. It was just a dream. Muttering a curse, he stood and walked back to his bed. As he stared at the ceiling, he could imagine those eyes glowering at him, and he swore his neck burned. He ignored it. He was going mad, and before he drifted to sleep, he reminded himself again and again: It was just a nightmare.