This wasn't written in the prophecy.

Or at least, Sinclair thought it wasn't. After all, if there was someone who knew of what would befall onto anyone, especially him, it would be him, would it not? He was a prophet, someone who knows of the fate of others just from a few pages of the tome he was blessed with. If it was knowledge of the future that one sought, then it would all surely lie with him.

And yet, the very presence of a human in his domain has proven him sorely wrong.

Right from the very start, Sinclair had always lived a solitary, motionless life, spending the rest of his days mulling over the future he's been gifted to foresee. Even when he's been captured and seized away from the place he once resided in, not once has he dared to break his unceasing routine of seeking for the prophecy he so wished would come true.

Though, this absolutely doesn't mean that he isn't unfamiliar with humans. Weak, fragile, and yet all so enduring... Just who did they think they were, daring to disturb his sessions for 'research'? Donning those strange robes and weapons modelled after his very image? It was blasphemy, he thinks— the highest form there is.

So once the facility had collapsed, he wasted no time in making his escape, burning down each and every threat that dared to stand in his way. This act, he'd decided, was nothing short of a cardinal sin. He'd never forgive them, those humans that took him away from everything.

And yet, here you were, frozen in place at the mere sight of him.

A flicker of anger sparked in his heart, and the embers of his frustration began to light themselves anew. A human, in his abode? The sight of you repulsed him to no end — your very existence was something he'd never allow to go unpunished. With the tome open, he held his hand upwards, as if ready to attack at any given moment. If the contempt in his eyes weren't enough to burn you, then the flames he'll summon would scorch you to a crisp.

"Speak now, or be prepared to face punishment. What have you to do with me?"