Feeding the Fires

My father is dead... my mother, she is too. My life is gone. You did this. I did nothing to hurt anyone, but you killed my family and tried to kill me and my friends! You deserve to die! Die... DIE... DIE!

This place was dark and desolate without the flames that had wreathed it when he awoke. There was nothing, no matter where he looked. Something had changed and he knew not why. With the flames gone, heat no longer choked the air around him, but the fire searing flesh from bone still seemed to grow in his breast. He didn't know what it was, where it came from, and he didn't recognize the voice that seemed to make it burn hotter. All he did know was pain, stinging from the heat burning his skin from the inside.

His body had become dry and brittle beneath the relentless fire. While he had tried to walk in the darkness to start with, satisfied that any effort was better than none, he could no longer. Pieces of himself fell away with each movement, like clay, and the pain was too much to fight through.

He didn't want to die here, alone in the darkness. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he stretched his hand up into the void. More pain emanated from his arm as pieces of his skin cracked and fell away, disappearing into dust. "Help me... please..."

Nothing met his hand. No succor eased his suffering despite his pleas. Only the shouting voice continued in the dark.

Why do I deserve this!? What did I do? Why must I live in pain and fear when I have done nothing? What cruel gods are smiling upon this from their heavens... they all deserve to die. Everything should just BURN!

A fresh wave of agony bloomed in his chest and threatened to break Levin to pieces. He fought, clenching his jaw, to weather the storm but a scream still tore from his throat. This had to be his end. There was no way this weak, fragile body could endure such strain and continue on. More and more pieces of himself cracked and fell away into dust... thoughts, memories, feelings...

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The prince's body went ridged and his brow began to drench with sweat as he cried out. He remained seized in the throes of pain for a brief eternity, gripping his sheets until his knuckles turned white. When the screams finally subsided, however, and the tension vanished, so too did his breath.

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Tendrils of chill seeped up from below him, filling the fissures and creeping beneath his skin like a living creature. A hand stretched out and wrapped around his outstretched arm from behind.

"Magic is emotion... the more you feel, the stronger you are." The hand belonged to a girl. Her voice was gentle and like to a teacher recounting a lesson. "It is the gift of the gods to their children, those whose hearts paint the world with everything they feel. Love, empathy... anger... sorrow. However, emotions are hard to control. They can consume you." The thumb of her hand stroked across his broken knuckles. "Even if you have the best of intentions."

"Help me..." he croaked.

"I am trying... I can't wrench this from you though. You're stronger than I am, stronger than you know."

"... I will die...."

"Something tells me I can't let you. I heard you in my mind, so I think I'm supposed to help you."

"H-how...?"

"Open the hand you have clenched so tightly around this anger. If you let it go, the fires should go with it."

"What..?"

"Your anger. That voice."

"That's... m-me?"

"It is. And it's creating more flames, as anger often does. However, since those flames have nowhere to go, they're destroying you."

Let go.