"Kneel, Seo Yeon."
She didn't respond.
Her eyes were fixed on a small face gripped tightly by one of the guards.
The child cried, screamed, writhed but no one showed mercy.
Min Ji, her husband, knelt beside her.
His hands were bound in chains, and his face was smeared with blood and dirt.
"Don't look at him."
He said in a broken voice.
But she didn't turn.
All that mattered was the boy Min Jun, her only son.
Drums thundered.
The crowd roared.
The guards stood in formation.
The commander raised his hand.
"By the charge of treason and communion with unknown forces… the sentence shall be carried out."
Seo Yeon closed her eyes and breathed slowly.
Then she spoke loud enough for all to hear:
"Forgive me, my little one… We only wanted to protect you."
Min Ji whispered:
"Remember us... Don't forget."
And in a single moment,
the sword fell.
---
Blood spilled over the wood.
Min Jun didn't understand what had happened.
But he screamed.
His cry pierced through the chaos.
In a small room lit only by a flickering candle, a young man jolted awake, his body trembling.
Min Jun sat at the edge of his bed, eyes wide and red with fear.
He gasped for breath, glancing around as if haunted by shadows of the past.
He whispered in a low, shaken voice:
"The same dream… again."
He clenched his eyes shut, trying to force away the images that stalked his sleep:
Blood.
That woman's cries.
The sound of the blade.
The screaming child.
Those curses did not spare him neither in sleep nor in waking.
Then… the door burst open.
A middle-aged woman rushed in, wearing a gray nightdress, her face pale with worry.
"Min Jun!"
She hurried to him, dropping to her knees and gently taking his hands.
"I heard you scream… what happened?"
He whispered, still trapped in memories that refused to fade:
"The same dream... I saw them die again..."
She didn't ask "who?"
She didn't press for details.
She simply wrapped her arms around him, placed his head on her shoulder, and ran her fingers through his white hair.
"I'm here. Don't worry... everything's okay. I'm with you."
His body trembled in her arms.
And in a hushed voice, he said:
"I hate that I can't forget that moment…"
She paused, then whispered warmly, lovingly, softly:
"I know it hurts, my dear… But you're not that little boy anymore."
She looked into his face and smiled, despite the tears glistening in her eyes:
"You're eighteen now. Strong and calm... and I'm proud of you."
He didn't answer, but slowly closed his eyes, as if her words were a warm blanket over his heart.
After a moment, he whispered:
"Thank you… for not leaving me."
"And I never will."
She said, holding him tighter as if afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
The rooster's crow shattered the silence of the morning,
filling the room with sharp, rhythmic calls, announcing a new day.
A gentle, loving voice spoke beside the bed:
"Min Jun… Wake up, come on. It's morning."
He slowly opened his eyes, and the moment he recognized the room, he sighed softly:
"Mom…"
That single word came from the depths of his heart filled with longing, vulnerability, and gratitude.
He descended the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last.
The creaking wood beneath his feet, and the cold air of the simple wooden house, made the morning feel distant.
He spoke softly, as if narrating his own story to someone unseen:
"My name is Min Jun… I'm eighteen years old."
He paused at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at the modest room filled with humble furniture.
"My father... his name is Min Ho. He works as a mercenary. He's around forty now."
He walked into the kitchen, where his mother calmly prepared food. Smiling, he added:
"And my mother… Lee Seong Yun. We've lived in this wooden house since I was little."
As he stood by the kitchen, his mother smiled warmly and said:
"Come on, Min Jun. Sit down! Why are you still standing? The food's getting cold."
He smiled lightly, then walked over and sat at the table.
Suddenly, footsteps stumbled from the top of the stairs.
He turned to see a young girl, about ten years old, nearly falling at the bottom step.
Min Jun smiled softly and said:
"That's my sister… She always trips on the last step. She's ten now."
Their mother rushed to the girl, worry on her face:
"Are you okay, Min Ho?"
The girl replied innocently:
"I'm fine, Mom."
She looked at Min Jun with a small grin, as if her fall was nothing.
Then she raised her chin and said confidently:
"Why are you laughing? You still think I'm a little kid?"
Min Jun chuckled and shook his head:
"That's her thing. Always falling at the stairs… never changes, haha."
Their mother smiled warmly and said:
"Alright, just be careful, Min Ho. We don't want more accidents."
She then said gently:
"Come on, take your seat. The food will get cold if you keep standing."
Min Ho smiled and ran to the table, sitting down as their mother began serving the food.
Min Jun finished eating quickly, then suddenly stood up, a wide grin on his face:
"I'm going out!"
As he rushed out of the house to run as he always did, his mother called out from inside:
"Be careful, Min Jun! Watch your step!"
He turned slightly and said, "Alright!"
He ran without knowing where.
Something inside him just pulled him away… from the house, the noise, the worried faces.
He crossed field after field, the golden wheat swaying in the breeze,
panting, the sun scorching his face,
until he reached the edge of the forest where the shadows of the trees offered a moment of relief.
He stopped, resting his hand on a tree trunk, gasping for air.
Then, from the distance he saw something that caught his eye.
A little girl, no older than six, laughing as she chased butterflies among wildflowers.
Her blue dress fluttered with the wind, her hair dancing across her shoulders.
She ran joyfully through the grass, reaching for a white butterfly
but tripped on a stone and fell.
Her cry rang out as she clutched her bleeding knee.
Within moments, a woman rushed out from a nearby cottage, her face drained of color.
She ran to the girl, dropped to her knees, and held her gently.
"Don't cry, sweetheart… I'm here."
She whispered, stroking the child's tears.
Then she extended her hand, closed her eyes,
and murmured soft, ancient words like a lullaby.
A warm, glowing light shone from her palms,
like milk and honey,
and the wound slowly vanished, as if the pain had never existed.
Min Jun froze, goosebumps crawling across his skin.
"That's magic…"
He whispered to himself, as though rediscovering something buried inside.
Then, as if a memory was triggered:
"Oh… right. There are four known types of magic."
He looked to the sky, like reading from an invisible book:
"Fire magic… It's the most destructive. Pure offense."
"Water magic… used not just for healing, but also to trap or suffocate enemies. Some can drown their foes without ever touching them."
"Wind magic…"
He reached out his hand as if to feel it:
"It's the lightest, but also the deadliest. It grants speed, agility, and control over your surroundings."
Then his eyes drifted to the mother still holding her daughter.
"And lastly… Healing magic. The rarest. It only appears in those with pure hearts… or so they say."
He paused, then muttered:
"But magic alone... isn't enough."
He took a deep breath and repeated words that echoed from his past:
"Anyone who truly possesses power... has an aura."
He looked at his hands and remembered that day…
"My father, for example… He doesn't use magic. He's a swordsman."
His father's voice echoed in his mind:
"Aura… is the extension of your soul, Min Jun. If your soul is angry, your aura will be fire. If you're steady… it'll be stone."
"The sword's aura, as my father calls it, wraps around the blade… making it harder, sharper, even heavier or faster."
"But each person's aura is different…
depending on their nature and their past."
He paused… then smiled faintly.
"Sometimes… I think my father's aura was sad. Yes, it could cut but..."
Suddenly
The ground beneath him trembled.
Then a roar quiet at first rose like thunder.
He froze and turned slowly westward.
Smoke spiraled into the sky. At first, a thin wisp…
Then a massive flame shot skyward like a tongue from hell.
Wings. A giant black shadow flapped behind the smoke.
His eyes widened.
He stepped back.
"A dragon…?"
He barely managed to speak the words.
And within moments,
the beast struck the village.
He saw it all flames erupting from its mouth,
rooftops ablaze, windows warping in the heat,
and the sky… turned to ash.
He ran.
He ran without thinking.