Igniting A Flame {Kingdoms #1}

Thirty-Five

A shimmer of radiating red flame danced in the small lantern placed by a steel door. The room faintly glimmered yet the corners were still shrouded in the depths of darkness, as if one were to stroll into that endless void only to find themselves encased in infinite nothingness. The world shook vigorously with each sway of his body. His eyes remained wide, staring at the vast room, at the scattered doorways and empty counters. Lukas Zelth. Yes, yes. That was his name.

Lukas carefully peeled his knees off the stone surface, gripping the wooden counter to his left and heaving his weak body up. Right. He was seventeen years old. A half-breed child. It took a while for his scattered mind to recover from the vision that infested it not long ago, as if his bodiless spirit travelled through someone's own life, like a guard observing from afar. After he had been dragged to another room, a strange memory of sorts trickled into his mind and sent him into another life. The life of Syn Zeel.

Lukas ruffled through the events he witnessed, recalling only part of the legend he had been told since he was child. Syn, the wander of realms, possessed a unique ability unseen by any of the gods at the time. That was what he thought. He hadn't been told that Syn resided in Maragnus or was so isolated by his own family. Lukas hadn't realized the tears dribbling down his bruise riddled cheeks, the mere pressure of liquid causing pain to the inflamed injuries. Questions swarmed his mind, yet only one remained prominent. Was he a descendent of the ancient Zeel family? His captor had hinted towards it, he had known. Something far more terrifying crept through his chest, causing his limbs to tremble. He prayed to whatever god that the others were unharmed. How the rutting hell is he supposed to escape this shit hole?

Lukas forced his thoughts away from the theories of his kidnapper's intentions and the whereabouts of his friends. Instead, he edged towards the three doors and placed his ear on each in attempt to pick up any movement. The first door, serene vine inscriptions lining the outer edges, rustled with murmurs and a scurry of papers. The second door, gleaming and polished, was dead silent. The third door, cracked and worn, echoed with faint shrieks and pleads. He shuttered, deciding to take the path of the quietest door.

Lukas cautiously moved the doorknob, the silent click of locks the only answer. He cursed, darting his eyes across the bland room and empty floors. Nothing. God damned nothing! The door skidded as Lukas slid down it and slumped onto the icy stone floor. The fresh gash of flesh pulsated, a horrifying mark of a brutal conflict. Something about the menacing emptiness calling to him sent violent shivers down his spine. He let himself fall into a dark pit that could have very well caused his own death. He couldn't let it happen again, couldn't let that darkness consume him.

There had been only one other instance in which he fell into a seemingly irreversible pit of darkness. When his mother drowned, he lost all hope and childish joy. The simple wonders of life seemed much darker and crueller below the surface. The glistening sun was hot and burning rather than bright and cheerful. The vibrant thicket seemed pestiferous instead of adventure filled. Lukas realized how positive his mother cast the world, a place to see only the benevolent. He had spent so long trapped in his own shack of a house, withering away, refusing food or water. His body was nothing but bone in a thin layer of flesh. Lukas gulped, the horror of that dark pit returning to him like a slither or pure evil. He would never go back to that time.

Lukas took a deep, calming breath, clearing his racing thoughts. He lifted his hand, bringing flame to the palm. The blaze occasionally flickered to his command, sometimes retreating and spurting silver light before relighting into a small flame. The door was too solid to burn. His head thrummed as he willed the flame to rise, the singe rumpling through his veins. Red specks crackled to the side, breaking off and falling to the ground. He stifled his breathing for a moment, allowing the inferno to consume his hand. With a light flick of his hand, the flame sizzled around a charcoal block. Lukas chuckled, a pleased grin spreading across his face. His magic never ceased to amaze him.