Mikal looked up at the sky, standing on the roof of an abandoned building in the town, sighing. "It's not my fault, is it Father?" he said quietly to the air, getting no reply, but wishing there were one.
He looked down at the town below him, his eyes gleaming, flickering to a dark red momentarily, then going back to their normal bright green, him shaking his head quickly.
"Not your fault, but not anyone else's either. Then whose?" the voice in his mind hissed.
He flinched, wincing. "Shut up.." he said quietly.
"You cannot make me, Princely one."
"I can certainly try."
Akira looked around, suddenly cold by the bone-chilling wind that flowed around her thin frame. She stood, shivering, padding back toward her house quietly, looking at the path, her feet, the flowers, anywhere but up and toward where she know Mikal would be standing. She could hardly understand why she had acted that way toward him, and thought he wouldn't want to talk to her.