Burn

Prison

He woke up in a dark room, hands held down by chains tied to the chair he was sitting on. His ankles were bound by metal rings attached to the ground.

Somewhere close, he could hear the steady dripping of water. A bit further away, two men had a conversation, voices muffled. One of them had a raspy voice, reminding him of his uncle that smoked a bit too much. Another one sounded young.

He remembered how he ended up here. For using magic. He shook his head. Nonsense. He had merely just burnt a few houses down, nothing major. As usual, the authorities were making a mountain out of a molehill. They didn't like a lot of things he did. Then again, maybe torching that one person and making her explode like fireworks had been a little overkill. She had simply just ran around stabbing people.

"Fire is so wonderful." He said aloud. His voice sounded hoarse from the lack of use. It also sounded loud in the silence. Or as close to silence as a room with dripping water and two guards conversing outside could be.

A few seconds passed. He sat up straight. A small flame ignited at the tip of his finger, and he tried to burn through the chain.

No such luck. Somehow, it wasn't working. He slumped back into the chair. Focusing the air in his lungs, he breathed a little weak stream of fire. From the low light, he could see the stone walls.

He could hear a heavy metal door opening from the left. The sudden light blinded him, and as he turned his head away, squinting, he heard footsteps coming towards him. A click as someone unlocked his ankle binds.

The ground shifted, as the guard picked up the chair, turning it upside down for convenience. He could feel his own weight being held by the chains that bound his hands and the ropes that  secured his chest to the chair.

"The chair is made of wood, is it not? What happens if I fart fire?"

The guard gave a grunt and shook the chair. He cursed himself for being incredibly light and a bit on the short and scrawny side.

"Just a single pooot and boom, I could escape and burn the entire place down."

"You're our prisoner, act like it."

"You know, you could always gag me." He laughed as he recalled their attempt to gag him. And then he burnt the gags, laughed, and made songs, taunting the guards. No one came to correct his behaviour, to his disappointment. He was always a bit of a masochist. But mostly a sadist.

The guard released his grip, and the arsonist fell to the ground headfirst. He felt a sharp pain on his neck, and he rolled, to the best of his ability, to reduce the impact.

"You watch who you're talking to, damn you."

"You feeling a little angry here? Seeing red?" Ignis taunted. "Feeling a little heated? Do you need some time to cool down?" He laughed as the guard made a noise of frustration.

"You might want to take a chill pill. Stop being so hot headed, y'know? Being fiery shortens your lifespan." Ignis inhaled, then breathed a tiny puff of fire again. From the light, he could tell that the older guard was getting on in age, but his face was unexpectedly not very saggy.

"Just leave the dude alone. Those fire puns are too cold." The guard outside poked his head into the room. "Two can play at that game, boy."

"Both of you are horrible," the older guard said flatly. "I have a burning desire to toss you inside as well."

The two guards turned to each other and laughed. "Our shift is over. Let's just go instead of toying with this guy."

As they left, the person in the opposite cell motioned to Ignis, crawling over to the door. The chains that tied his ankle to the wall clanked. The metal piece attached to his leg had an incantation carved onto it, glowing softly with a red light.

"You are an elementalist." He stuck his head out and looked left and right at the hallway to check if anyone was there.

"Of course I am."

"I need that pin in your hair." The sense of urgency in the young man's voice got Ignis working immediately. He bent his head down and strained his wrist to remove the pin. The only problem now was throwing it across.

"If I give it to you, you must get me out. My execution is scheduled for next week." Ignis jumped in his chair, and his heart suddenly palpitated as he rocked backwards, but returned to his original position. He jumped again and got a better gauge of how to do it, and he slowly made his way over to the door.

The man shifted closer. "My hands are free, just throw it here. Quick, before the other guards come."

Ignis jumped twice again, then threw it. The man caught it, then begun trying to pick the lock of his binds with the hairpin and another stick looking thing that Ignis couldn't see properly.

Just then, they heard footsteps drawing close. In the opposite cell, the person arranged the blankets to look like a person. Unfortunately, Ignis thought that it was a bad disguise unless he was a person without a head.

After what seemed like a long time, there was a click. The man rose to his feet, and then jumped. From the outside, he seemed to have completely disappeared, but Ignis knew that he was just holding himself up by pushing against the four walls of the cell.

The guards passed by, and happened to look into the seemingly empty cell. One of them gave a shout, and another one opened the door to check. They rushed into the cell, chatting in a foreign language, and they touched the blankets, which shifted too easily. Just then, the man dropped from the ceiling in front of them.

Ignis could see the flash in the man's eyes as he twisted one of their heads, too fast for anyone to react, then he clamped his hands over the mouth of the guard that was still alive, then slammed him into the wall with enough force to dent his armour and knock him unconscious.

"Yeowch. Brutal."

"Don't feel sorry for them. They're fond of torture." He quickly snatched a keyring attached to one guard, then unlocked Ignis's door. As soon as the lock clicked, he dropped the keys and begun sprinting. In just a few seconds, he was out of sight in the long hallway.

"Geez, I could have used his help to escape." Ignis opened the door and stepped out, heading towards the direction the man was running in.

With his only friend guiding his path and lighting his way, he made his way out of the prison. He smiled as he saw that he didn't need to harm any guards.

The man in front had already sliced his way through, staining the ground red and leaving corpses behind, all either decapitated or slashed, their armour broken.

"He really is brutal," Ignis said, as he stepped out into the open air.