The Flower Among the Flames

Chapter 33

Once again, Seulgi's body felt weightless. There was no ground beneath his feet– or at least, he thought there wasn't. It was pitch black. Was he moving forward? Was he falling? There was no breeze to indicate direction or the push or pull of gravity. Perhaps his eyes were closed? Seulgi blinked a few times to experiment. Nope. His eyes were definitely working.

Oddly enough, despite being thrown into a portal to gods know where, Seulgi's mind was at peace. Was that weird? Should he have been screaming or panicking inside? The warrior's keen instincts, that would have otherwise lead his consciousness into one direction or another, were all but silenced. He felt nothing. It was almost as if...

"Are you asleep?"

A voice as clear as an open sky crashed down on Seulgi with the force of a tidal wave, the echoes smacking into him like ripples in the foam. That voice. The warrior clenched his teeth from the sudden impact of sound, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. It was no use. It was coming from all sides. He knew that voice.

"Seulgi?" The voice spoke in a gentler, tentative tone. "You know my father is going to kill us if we are caught together like this."

Seulgi's voice was caught in his throat. No. It couldn't be. There was no way.

"It's time to get up."

Then, as if the darkness had ears and heeded the voice like a faithful servant, a blinding light flashed in front of him. Seulgi let out a grunt of discomfort. The darkness parted, and he felt his body being sucked towards the bright light with immense strength. The warriors struggled to slow the pull but it was no use. He had no control over his limbs, and the light prevented him from seeing what lay ahead.

Suddenly, a symphony of sounds barraged him as well as a rush from a cool breeze. The sounds of laughter, singing birds, pounding of tools into dirt, and the gurgling of water from a nearby stream were what he could distinguish from the otherwise cacophonous wall of noise. No. It couldn't be. Yet again, the man was in denial of what was seemingly happening in front of him. Seulgi squeezed his eyes shut, his arms shielding his face. Wait. He could move. Although it felt as if a cold hand was pulling his heart away from want he wanted to do, Seulgi immediately opened his eyes again, tearing away his hands slowly.

He noticed instantly that he was not on the ground, but in the air. He was flying– or so he thought at first. Looking over his limbs and on closer inspection, Seulgi realized he could see through them. It was like peering through glass. He was not real. This was not real. It was some sort of illusion or dream. The warrior looked out into the landscape before him and shook his head in awe, wonder, and guilt. Some illusion this was.

Below him were vast pastures of green healthy grass, and row upon row of rice paddies. Workers in wide brimmed straw hats and ragged clothes were scattered about, tending to the crops. From above, Seulgi could hear a chant run through the group of laborers– a song to keep their minds occupied from the grueling labor. Seulgi turned his attention right of the paddies. An occasional group of children rushed through the fields laughing and playing. Some carried with them little red bound books whereas others bore toys. They must be heading to class. A grace of a smile touched his face. He remembered the feeling of going to school and the enjoyable moments with his classmates.

Seulgi followed them with his eyes, noticing that they were running to the little river east of the paddies. Although small, the sounds of rushing water could not be hidden away from his hearing. Even further east was a lush forest and within that forest, was a village filled with a variety of different houses roofed with straw, lumber, and tile. Carts drawn by horses exiting and entering at a regular pace, shouts from the village center made by merchants selling their wares, and the banter between the residences filled the sky with sound. A familiar sound. An old sound.