I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

The smell of smoke hit him long before the heat did.

Philia squeezed his eyes shut, his small chest heaving as he choked on the thick, grey soot filling his bedroom. The world outside his door was a roar of crackling timber and shouting men.

Everything was red. Everything was burning.

BAM

The bedroom door burst open, and his mother scrambled inside. Her hair was torn from its pins, soot streaking her pale cheeks, and the hem of her nightdress was scorched black. She didn’t say another word, she just scooped him up into her arms, clutching him so tightly to her chest that he could feel the frantic, rabbit-fast thudding of her heart.

”Mother, what’s happening?” Philia whimpered, burying his face into the crook of her neck. ”Why is it hot?”

”Shh, My Love. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t look.”

She sprinted down the long corridor of their family home, but the grand hallway was already a trap. A heavy wooden beam crashed down ahead of them, sending a shower of orange sparks across the carpet.

His mother stumbled, gasping in agony as the flaming timber clipped her shoulder and crushed her leg. She nearly collapsed, but through sheer force of will, she pushed herself up and shoved her way through a narrow side door leading to the upper corridor.

The heat up there was suffocating. Thick smoke rolled up the stairwell, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Outside, above the roar of the flames, harsh, unfamiliar voices echoed up from below, shouting orders through the dark.

His mother dragged her body to the tall, arched window at the far end of the corridor. The glass was already shattered, letting in the cool night air, but when she looked down at the courtyard, her face went deathly pale.

”There’s nowhere left to go,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Philia pulled back, looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. ”Mother?”

She set him down on the stone ledge of the window, holding his shoulders with hands that trembled violently. She tried to stand straight, but her right leg buckled beneath her, dark blood soaking through the charred hem of her gown.

She couldn’t walk anymore. She couldn’t run.

Tears cut clean tracks through the soot on her face, but her eyes held a fierce, desperate focus as she looked at him.

”Listen to me, My Son,” she said, her voice dropping to a harsh, hurried whisper. ”You have to listen very carefully.”

”Where is Father, Mo...”

”No, My Darling, listen!” She cupped his cheeks, her palms burning hot against his skin. ”You must live. Do you hear me? You have to live.”

She pressed something small and wrapped in cloth into his hand, forcing his fingers shut around it, but her words tumbled out in a frantic rush.

”Don’t ever use your power unless it is to defend your own life. Never. Do you understand? They will hunt you for it. Go far away from here. Run, and never look back. Never let anyone find out who you are. I’m sorry... I am so sorry, my sweet boy...”

”Mother, no! Don’t leave me!” Philia sobbed, his small fingers hooking desperately into the collar of her dress.

”I love you, Philia.”

Before he could process what she was doing, his mother pushed him backward out the window.

Philia screamed, the wind catching his clothes as he tumbled through the dark air. He landed heavily on a steep, muddy slope of lawn at the edge of the estate, rolling several times until he slammed into the thick base of a wild rosebush. Thorns ripped through his thin nightshirt, scratching his skin, but the impact knocked the air entirely out of his lungs.

He lay there in the wet dirt, gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Above him, a sickening crash echoed through the night. Philia looked up through the leaves just in time to see the roof of the upper hallway collapse inward, swallowing the window, and his mother, in a giant pillar of fire and smoke.

”Mother!” he choked out, but the sound was buried under the roar of the inferno.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path just beyond the rosebush. Philia instantly clamped a hand over his mouth, pulling his knees tightly against his chest, paralyzed with fear.

Two men in dark walked past his hiding spot.

”Did anyone make it out alive?” one of them asked, his voice flat as he adjusted the heavy sword at his hip.

”Look at the fire,” the second soldier replied, watching the flames swallow the upper floor. ”Everyone in there is dead.”

The first guard looked up at the roaring blaze, shaking his head slightly. ”So House Antel didn’t even need to draw a blade tonight?”

Philia stayed frozen in the mud long after the footsteps faded into the distance. His whole body shook. House Antel. The names meant nothing to a six-year-old boy, but the coldness in their voices carved itself permanently into his mind.

Philia’s tiny hands dug deeper into the cold, wet earth, his fingernails caking with mud as he clamped his lips together to choke back a sob.

Everyone.

His chest heaved, a tight, suffocating panic rising in his throat. He thought of his father, of the quiet study at the end of the hall, the warm smile, the father who hadn’t come with his mother to save him.

So his father too...

When the silence of the forest finally settled around the burning estate, Philia crawled out from beneath the rosebush. His hands were scraped, his clothes soaked with mud and blood, but he didn’t feel the pain. He turned his back on the roaring fire and ran.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just sprinted blindly into the dark woods, the branches whipping against his face, his small boots slipping on wet leaves and exposed roots.

Run and don’t look back.

His mother’s voice echoed in his head over and over again, driving him forward even as his legs burned and his lungs felt like they were bursting. He ran until the air turned cold and mist began to roll off the damp forest floor. He ran until he couldn’t hear the fire anymore, until the night swallowed everything around him.

He crested a steep, muddy ridge, his small feet losing their footing on the slippery edge. Philia gasped, reaching out to grab a branch, but the damp bark snapped in his grip.

With a startled cry, he tumbled down the steep embankment, bouncing off rocks and dirt until he plummeted over the ledge of a low cliff, dropping straight into the rushing, cold water of a swollen mountain river below.

The cold water ripped the last bit of air straight out of his lungs, the shock hitting his small body so hard it knocked every thought out of his head. Philia thrashed wildly, his small arms flailing against the heavy current as the dark water pulled him under, swallowing his muffled cries as he was swept away into the dark.