This is me, Michael

Alone. Surrounded by distant screams, engulfed in flashbacks and pain. Was this the effect of Nome's arrows, or was I simply confronting the emptiness within? Darkness clouded my vision, and I wondered—was this my mind? Was this my heart? Could I truly be this hollow?

Michael found himself wandering within his own subconscious, lost in an unending night.

I walked through the dark, glancing left and right, yet the only things visible were two distant lights. One flickered like a dying bulb, struggling to stay bright; the other glowed intensely, a beacon of unyielding light. And then, I understood. The flickering light was my father—a lingering reminder of my past—while the bright, unwavering one was my beloved, Elizabeth, fueled by every emotion in me that still dared to feel.

Family? I never knew the comfort of that word. But I, Michael, never hated my father; no, I loved him. Strange as it seems, I smiled at what others would curse, accepted what others would reject. Memories of being beaten until my head bled, of nights abandoned at strangers' houses—those were routine. The worst, though, was the subtle manipulation, his attempts to instill in me a hatred for anyone outside our tribe. He'd say, "Love Igbo, hate Yoruba." In Michael's world, tribes divided us just as power did.

But it was the Yoruba who understood me. They made me feel… alive. Elizabeth, a Yoruba girl, became my world. She was not ordinary. She listened. She cared. She saw the humanity in me, even in a world marred by abilities that seemed to erode compassion. Elizabeth became everything: my compass, my schedule, my advisor. Without her, I feared I would be lost.

My feelings for Elizabeth are different. They aren't born from obsession, or need, or lust. This love—it's something pure. I, Michael, who feels so little, found a perfect love in her. Elizabeth made me feel something close to human. And so, no matter how hollow I feel, I'll rise, for her.

But I must say something…..

In this world of abilities, in this world brimming with talent, in this world drenched in beauty but also rotted by inequality, those of us without gifts—those of us deemed powerless—are left out, unseen. There's no place for people like me, no refuge for those who don't measure up, who don't meet the world's high demands. But you, Elizabeth—you saw me. You're not the first woman I've met, but you're the first to leave a mark on my life, to make this colorless world come alive. When you're gone, everything fades to grey. You're the only strand of humanity I have, my only source of energy, and that's why—even if I have to kill, I'd kill for you. Even if I lost you afterward, I'd still do everything within my power to keep you safe. Michael's power may be limited, but all I want is to have you close.

Once, I thought I knew love. I trusted someone—at least Michael did. I thought she was everything, thought I'd give anything for her. But I was full of humanity then, full of a naive belief in kindness, and in the end, that humanity was used against me. The only other person I'd trusted, Lere, broke that trust, shattered it by taking what mattered most. He stole it, twisted it, and left me broken—all because I was human, because I was foolish enough to trust, to believe, to hope.

Then there are my parents. My father, who instilled in me a hatred that I never wanted, a prejudice against those who weren't Igbo, specifically against the Yoruba. But the more he filled me with anger toward others, the more I resented my own blood. Why must we be taught to hate? Why are humans like this? Why is kindness always repaid in betrayal? I want to love my father, to believe in him, but each day he gives me more reason to doubt. And my mother…my first love. She could bring peace to me with just a touch, a gentle word. She was the one who could make me feel safe, make me feel like a child again, innocent and free from this mess. But she was taken from me, taken by a god who didn't care, who let her slip away without a second thought. Why? Why can't I keep anything good? Am I not worthy of happiness?

I, Michael, have lived a thousand lifetimes in just eighteen years, each one harder than the last, and it has carved me into this inhuman shell. The only thing that brings me back from that edge is you, Elizabeth. You're everything—mother, friend, protector, lover. You fill the emptiness inside, the void that devours everything else I've tried to care about. I only hope that whatever feelings we share, whatever bond we have, stays infinite.

I wish that all the others—everyone else in this world—could vanish, leaving only us, safe from everything that threatens to tear us apart.

In that moment, Michael's dark subconscious cracked open. Stars sparked into existence, filling his mind in an orchestration of light, clouds drifted through his thoughts, and grass carpeted the ground, spreading across his mind like the promise of peace. It was beautiful, peaceful, but empty—like his soul, a vast field void of warmth, haunted by memories of pain and betrayal.

As he lay drenched in sweat, a distant voice echoed, breaking through the void. "Ozor… Ozor… wake up." His eyes flew open, blinking against the brightness of the world around him. The grasslands spread out before him, and beside him stood the girl he had saved, Precious. She was staring at him, stunned, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Michael… you're… glowing."