"Mommy? Daddy?" His voice cracks as he stumbles backwards, an animalistic instinct forcing him away from the inferno. "Mommy? Daddy?"

They were here. Moments ago. In front of him, protecting him, shielding him, like the spirits, always watching over him. He needs his mother's hug, needs his father's hand ruffling his hair, needs the scent of both of them as they embrace him and tell him it's all right, it's okay, it's going to be fine, hush, go to sleep and it will be better in the morning, you'll see, you'll see. He needs it more than he needs to breathe. But the stench of things afire is all he has.

"Mommy? Where are you?"

His lungs fill up with soot. Every inhale brings a burning stab of agony shooting through his insides. His pants rip, and he falls, pain slicing through his elbows and knees as he hurdles across the grit, blank dryness giving way to a smouldering wetness. Tears blind him; through half-lidded eyes he stares up at the shadow of a cruel monster towering over him, brightness in his hand. "D-daddy? I have a b-boo-boo."

Growling, the monster turns back and crouches over the things that stink of brimstone and blaze, his claws ripping them open, shining metal vanishing into the inner folds of his cloak. Scarlet splatters the dirt, mingling with the dust.

Red.

His hand, shivering, reaches out as he grasps at the redness sticking out at home. One knee touches dampness; he looks down, his own golden eyes, wide with terror, staring back at him in horror from the puddle of crimson. "Mommy?" he whispers at himself, straining to see in his reflection what is not there in reality. "D-daddy?"

The monster roars at him, a wreath of orange and yellow blooming from its maw.

He draws the redness close to him, feeling its softness, and presses it close to his face. It leaves a spot of moisture on his cheek, glistening.

"M-mommy? When are y-you c-coming back?"

There's no answer but the murmur of raindrops, the clouds weeping with him. The monster has disappeared, a shadow on the wall, leaving him and the things on fire, a fire that goes out in the tears.

"D-don't leave m-me."

Noise roars in his ears, a thump thump thump of drums, pounding so hard nothing is audible.

He holds the redness close, his eyes squeezed shut, drowning in the rain and the flame and the grief.

"P-please."

The only response is silence.

It has always been.

A/N: So the question is, who is the protagonist of this piece?

Mako . . . or Amon?

Note: Mako's eyes are amber/gold, and we don't know the colour of Amon's eyes, but they appear to be gold/grey to me.