Magus {Complete}

8

Cinder flapped the leather patch, trying to get the rest of the dust off. Brushing it against his jeans, he finally wiped enough of the grime off to see it clearly. Engraved in the leather was the pentacle star, the coin in its center and blooming from the middle of the coin, the rose. He stared at it, mouth growing dry as his gaze followed every curve of the symbol.

"Did you find what you wanted?" Kydyn asked, his voice coming up from behind Cinder.

Cinder didn't turn. He hardly heard the warlock to begin with. The words didn't register and as he lingered on examining the leather patch, he felt the familiar rippling pulse of his magic. It was almost the same as when he'd star gazed, but slightly altered. Instead of the heavens above seemingly sucking him in, he sort of fell into the visions that flooded his mind. A weightless sensation took over.

His father, who he couldn't clearly see was standing in the living room. The fire was burning, crackling loudly as it cast shadows all across the room. His mother was turned just enough for Cinder to see her. Bright green eyes were narrowed in anger, and a nasty frown painted her pretty face. They were arguing. About what, Cinder wasn't sure. All he knew was that it wasn't a good conversation. That they were mad at each other and he didn't like it. The natural feelings of a child who hated when their parents fought. He didn't understand it.

The tall, dark haired man with his back to the door waved something in his hand and his mother snapped something in return, pointing at the leather patch as if it was the cause of every bad thing in the whole world. For a moment, Cinder just stared at the green patch, the symbol etched on it not even tangible. To him it was only lines on a circle.

The vision changed, sweeping him into darkness and down a long hallway that never seemed to end. Turning left, a door swung open, but Cinder never went into the room fully. Instead, he peeked in from the hallway, watching his father's back as he spoke to someone. The long robes reminded him of the old council men that walked around at the Capitol clothed like that. As his father moved a little to the side, he caught sight of a short beard, a face that wasn't as wrinkled with time, and warm brown eyes that were very familiar.

What they were talking about was nothing but droned noise. Muffled sound that had no clear words to it. No matter how hard he strained to make it out, he couldn't understand the fuzzy wash of voices. As he leaned in further to the room, noise assaulted his ears. He flinched at the sound, but more from the heat that he could feel burning his skin. Fire crackled, and Cinder was swept into the memory of the flames that tore apart his house and family.

He was upstairs that time. His father shouting at someone, the argument didn't last long as an explosion from some part of the house drowned out everything else. Cinder's father rushed down the hall, sweeping Cinder into his grip and hurrying down the stairs. Put near the doorway, he was told to wait while his father went to get his mother. The flames were sparking and spreading from the living room, licking at the walls and creeping up into the second floor. A loud crashing sound filled the room and Cinder flinched. Looking to the other side, a bottle smashed against the wall from the window it had been hurled through and an explosion rained hot liquid all through the room. It splattered the wood and furniture, setting it all ablaze.

"Cinder!"

At first, he thought it to be his mother's voice. He whimpered and squirmed, unsure if he should leave the corner he'd been put in or not. When his name was shouted again, it had a deeper tone. Like a man was yelling at him. He felt his body being shaken hard enough to snap his head back and forth. Groaning, he pulled himself out of what felt like a dream, and blinked several times to clear his vision. Reaching up, he pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead.