The Blood Cross

Chapter 6

The fire from the stove bursts fiercely, as a young man, in his mid-seventeen's turns around a burger which was getting crusty by the intense fire. 

He cleans his forehead, as it was already 2 am and he needed to wake up early on the next day to go to school, but his family business was quite busy tonight, and they already had employed all his brothers and cousins to do deliveries. 

To be honest he couldn't expect anything different as it was Friday night, but tomorrow he had some pre exams for university which he couldn't miss as he would be the first generation ever since his family left the now extinct Persia as refugees, to get admitted into university. He wanted to follow engineering as his major.

Damn, he was exhausted, for two weeks in a row he haven't stop studying and going to mock up classes to get himself prepared to the final exams. It was a tough job, but he knew his parents where proud, especially ever since his elder brother Kazeem turned into a drug dealer and got himself arrested a couple of years ago. His mum was still recovering from the grief.

He looks upon himself at the reflection of one of the pans that his dad liked to collect at the Delhi, showing off his square shin marked by a very prominent scar that he got ever since he remembers; he has well defined cheeks and a thin nose. 

His olive toned skin was shining due to the smokes coming for the hot stoves, but that couldn't take your attention from his unusual scarlet eyes.

"Hey Shahab!" yells one of his uncles. "Could you go downstairs and bring up some more brown sauce?" He signs at him positively, not after he puts the burgers inside of the fresh buns, and leaves not without removing his hat, showing of his shaved head.

He was a very handsome man, and he knew it. To the point that he got several opportunities to be a model by dozens of head hunters, all due to his exotic looks.

Shahab opens the door to the basement; it is dark over there, so he tries to turn on the lights but it seems it isn't working – ever since ever the electrical system never seemed to work properly over there – and instead of calling out for someone to go have a look he walks down and from his right hand he produces a small flame illuminating the whole room.

Yes, he had a secret. One of the reasons that his family left their country, years ago, was not only because of the revolution. It was because among all families they occupied a very central place very close to the old royal family. 

They were high priests, warriors, and even assassins blessed by the flame entities. They were much feared and for centuries there were stories about them, to the point that even them, they become legends. But it was all true. They were part of a much deeper society, the Wiccans and where one of the most important clans in the Middle East, and for centuries they were very powerful. 

But ever since the last government fell, they as well fell into corruption and their numbers started to dissipate into the wind, to the point that only a few of them still practice their doctrine now days. And he was supposed to be the next head of the clan following his fathers' steps, since his older brother was lost and none of his cousins or middle brothers had any major interest or skills into the arts of fire.

As he walks down, more and more flames ignite into the candles tips that were scattered through the basement. Ah, he loved that feeling. Strangely enough it has been very normal to him to use that ability, it's like all fire responded to him only. 

He remembers when he was very young and started training with one of his uncles. That man was supposed to be one of the strongest in his family with the fire arts, but without any sign of strength he defeated him, the fire responded to him and him only it was like he was its master.