Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Sixteen

Lukas barely moved as rope dug into his flesh. It spiralled around a pole, covering his chest all the way down to his forearm. The bristles left a rich red mark, the tightness even tearing some skin layers. Yet another prison. He's starting to think that the Soran guards were a better route.

Evanora paced across the tattered flooring of the basement, biting her nails as thoughts clouded her mind. The walls were partially stripped and torn, whilst a frail light flickered barely. The room had clearly been abandoned or untouched for so long, as all houses in Sora seemed to be.

Lukas yawned, bored of this restriction. Start looking back at your own life. He tensed, memories once again flooding back to him. Unveiling hidden memories meant unleashing a storm of pain. He took a deep breath. If his life were already flipped then perhaps digging into the past would make no difference.

He closed his eyes, shifting through the deepest banks of his memory. There had to be something there. Something to prove that this prophecy is an insane lie and his life was always as he suspected. Flickers of sentimental objects and events twirled around.

He mumbled his discontent, frustrated with the shards of memory. He could see the ice blue of his supposed father's eyes and faint image of his mother and him embracing. He, also, sees his mother slanting upwards, gazing upon the plain roof with ale in hand struck by loneliness. Lukas saw little pieces of both sides. A cluster of confusion with no right answer.

Yevvi had called him ignorant and oblivious, unaware of the hope he held if this prophecy were true. He groaned, burying his face into his hands suddenly feeling stupid. He had no recognition of Yevvi's feelings. He was Maragnian. His beloved kingdom was destroyed. His loved ones were lost. He is the one who needs this hope the most. Lukas felt so unbearably torn. He transferred his raging emotions into concentration. Get the hell out of this basement and find Yevvi.

He spied the dagger by Evanora's side. If only he could shoot silver light and knock it off its hook. He rolled his hands, assessing the movement. If he could get her close enough—and with enough force from the dagger—he could rip apart the rope.

"Could I at least have some water so I don't die of thirst," Lukas questioned, exaggerating his actions with dry coughing and sharp breathing. Evanora grumbled, opening her little sack of items and sluggishly grabbing a water bottle.

She crouched, pressing the water to his lips. He savoured the freshness, glugging down slowly. The dagger called to him, whispering of the sweet chance of escape. He cautiously stretched his hand, angling it upwards. Lukas failed to control his power. He damned himself for not learning to use it.

Evanora released the bottle, droplets piling onto the floor. "Wait," Lukas panicked, "I need some more." She growled, forcing the bottle to his lips again.

"I hope you drown in it."

Time became too crucial, his mind racing and heart thumping. Escape seemed so close, so wonderfully close. He forced his hand towards the dagger, begging it to shoot that light. Finally, a shot struck the hook knocking the blade to the ground. He twisted, fumbling to grab the dagger. The coating slid off perfectly as if willing to assist.

He threw his hand up, the blade slicing the old and dusty rope. He immediately jumped to his feet, furiously darting his eyes to find the exit. The witch boomed with outrage, her voice sharp and vicious. Lukas saw the fist coming for his face and had no time to move before it slammed, sending his vison into darkness.

His back pounded into the ground as hot blood trickled from his nose. Her hold on his collar was so strong, the very fabric of his shirt stretched and then ripped. His face crinkled with torment. The darkness dissipated and he winced at the screaming witch holding him down. Curses and insults reverberated through the small room. Her grip tightened, this time around his neck and he gurgled.

Darkness covered the room. Not the kind of darkness from a punch to the face. No. This was real darkness. The kind of abyss from hell. It slithered up the walls, suffocating the room. He shivered, the mere sight even more horrifying than the witch chocking him. He flicked his eyes back to Evanora, whose orange eyes flashed red. Pure, undeniable rage spurted from her.

Lukas twisted, struggling to release the grasp. His face feeling as if it were to explode. Burning shot through his body and fierce flames blanketed the room, forcing out the hellish abyss. Evanora grimaced, tumbling backwards. Lukas gasped intensely, embracing the relief of air. That moment of solace was disrupted by the ache buzzing through his veins.

Fire still flickered, erupting from his body and shooting outwards. He crouched over, taking deep breaths mixed with groans of agony. He chuckled bitterly, perplexed and amazed at a burst of fire from himself. Fire. He never possessed such powers. The pain drifted as he calmed himself.

Evanora propped herself against the wall, caressing her scorched hand whilst staring at Lukas with shock. Lukas stared at his shaky hands, grateful of the magic it expelled. He slowly rose from the floor, his gaze still glued to his hands. The fire disappeared now, the room returning to its dim illumination. He flicked his hands, attempting to recreate the blaze. No luck. He flicked again. A glint of silver struck the wall. No. He tried again, panicking. More silver light. No. No. No.

Please let me see the fire again. Please. Please. Please. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, the sorrow in his heart so overpowering. His only moment of normalcy taken from him so instantly. That crackling fire stained his mind, the magnificent flickers and warmth. For a blissful moment, he had true fire powers.

Lukas leaned against the pillar before sliding down it, gravity seeming all too harsh. The air seeming all too thick. The light seeming all too bright. His face relaxed, his mind too tired to keep it raised. That dark tunnel of emptiness swallowed him whole, shutting off his emotions. Removing his memories once again.

"Do whatever you want with me. I have no place in this world," Lukas stated melancholically.

Evanora shook her head, wiping her surprise and strode towards him. She swiped the dagger lying beside him and pressed it to his throat. "Don't you ever think of opposing me again. Next time, I will not hesitate to unleash the demons of Elasta onto you."

Lukas remained silent, staring at the ground. Staring at the nothingness. That image of flame so crisp, so comforting. All he ever wanted was to be a normal fire-wielding elf of Sora.