Chapter One
Fire Caves
A trail of sweat ran down my face, the heat from the flames plastering hair on my forehead. The five mile walk from home had left me panting, legs aching from unfamiliar exertion. My tongue tasted ash in the air. My body craved water so much my legs shook. I wiped my hand across my forehead, hoping Father hadn’t noticed. He had been adamant I wear my finest ivory shirt and brown trousers. Now they were stained with sweat.
‘Father, I want to go home.’
His yellow gaze left the flames and settled on me. I cringed back. My eyes were like his, but Mum’s light green colour softened the outer edges. I couldn’t make a scary face like that.
‘You’re twelve now. It’s time you were useful.’ He turned away, stepping into the flames. I gasped, shrinking back and scraping my back against the cave wall. Father’s figure was engulfed, the sound of his footsteps drowned by the cackling fire.
Father had been working at the fire caves for fifteen years, ever since coming to Firo. Their inside structure was a maze paved with fire, the ragged stone walls immune to the element. The floor was coated with dirt as fine as sand; a fuel for the constant inferno. The heat was so near yet never touched my skin, even when I dared move from the wall. The dancing yellow, orange, red and, sometimes, a hint of blue, was so clear I was mesmerised. Our Anellan eyes were ideal here; sharp enough to see through the flame’s light and smoke without any pain. But I was still human. I could burn.
‘Father.’ Tears spilt down my shaking face.
‘Come on boy! Stop embarrassing yourself!’
A blaze of blue burst out in front of me, forcing the orange and red to part. The blue outline grew broader, pushing the flames back to form a pathway. Father grabbed my wrist, pulling me down the path. I looked at the ground, seeing the floor change from dirt to burning ember as we emerged into a clearing. I whimpered, the vile smell of singeing rubber rising from my feet.
‘Ignatius is waiting.’ Father pulled me in front. I took a deep, steadying breath before looking up.
My eyes could see through the thick smoke rising from the floor. A wooden throne sat in front of a fork path, breaking away into more tunnels, where no fires were burning. A man sat there, watching me with no clear expression. Each strand of shoulder-length hair was ablaze, rooted into the skin of his scalp. His brown leather clothes exposed his arm’s tanned skin and muscles.
‘So this is the child?’ he sneered. His eyes were edged with yellow, blending to orange, and red-rimmed around the pupils.
I stumbled backwards, slamming against my father, and fell on the ground. The burning coal met my bare hands. I screamed at the searing pain and the man’s cold stare.
‘Dimitri!’ Ignatius’ voice called my name. My entire body began shaking, the smell of burnt cloth reaching my nose. I tried to scramble to my feet, but the feel of my raw hands touching the ground made them collapse, my shoulder hitting the ember floor. The focused gaze of the immortal crushed all the breath from my body. Sharp, unquenching gasps escaped.
I’m going to die!
‘Yes, Master?’ My father appeared, bowing.
‘What is the meaning of this? You dare insult me by offering this coward as a servant!’
I didn’t hear the rest. I didn’t want to. I gave up trying to control my breathing and let the blackness in my vision take over.
‘That boy has failed to please Arŕ Wel. He has cursed this family!’
Eyes scrunched shut; I pressed my face into the suffocating softness of the mat beneath my bed. I’d wanted to hold my hands against my ears but couldn’t bring myself to lift them from my side once the shouting began.
‘Don’t talk about our child like that! At least now he can leave the house and make friends,’ said Mum. I wondered whether she stood facing him or was looking away.
‘Dimi,’ a closer voice whispered, making me jump and whack my head on the bottom of the bed. I groaned, moving my hands to rub my sore head, while turning it to see little Annie crouched beside me.
‘It’s okay, Dimi,’ she said. ‘Me and Mum don’t care about you being in that man’s service. Dad will understand someday.’
Father’s voice cut through from the kitchen.
‘He has disgraced the Gods! He’s not worthy of anything anymore.’
Annie’s hands clenched into little fists. She sprang up, and was out of the room before I had begun moving.
‘That’s not true, Daddy!’ I heard as I entered the hallway and raced towards the kitchen. I froze in the doorway, fear catching up with me.
Annie stood next to Mum, facing Father. She’s only seven and already smarter and braver than me.
‘Dimi is an amazing person, and talented! He’s even started designing a really pretty necklace.’
Not even Annie had managed to calm Father’s expression. His sharp yellow eyes stared at her with so much anger her legs were shaking. Annie didn’t even notice, and I loved her all the more for doing what I couldn’t.
‘He is a damned child, no son of mine!’
His gaze darted to me. I felt like I’d been stabbed. My legs didn’t shake, they collapsed without a fight. I couldn’t look away.
‘His whole life has been a waste.’
‘How dare you talk to my son like that!’ Mum stepped around Annie and rushed towards me, bending down and pulling me up, letting me hide my face against her, blocking me from his eyes. ‘That cave has changed you, Dimitri. That thing is not your God, he’s a fraud!’
I heard a quick step and a loud crack before Mum fell to her knees, dragging me down with her. Her arm instinctively tightened around me, a surprised sob escaping before she forced it away.
‘Mum!’ Annie cried. I managed to turn my head in Mum’s grasp. Annie was already beside us, crouching down and crying. Her sobs were making her whole body heave. Her soft brown eyes filled with tears.
She looked so scared.
I didn’t feel scared anymore.
‘Leave her alone!’ I burst, standing up. The sudden movement took Mum by surprise. She let go.
Father didn’t even acknowledge me. He was staring at his right hand. My face felt warm with sudden anger. I grabbed a vase off the kitchen table; his precious Anellan artefact designed with ashes and dragons.
‘Get out! Go back to your God!’ I threw it blind. He let out a surprised grunt as he was hit in the stomach. The vase bounced to the floor and smashed, pieces scattering across the floor. Father absently rubbed his stomach as his gaze finally lifted and looked at me.
I didn’t like the look he gave me: confusion, no spark of recognition. I was a stranger.
‘Get out! We don’t need you, I hate you!’ I screamed, fists clenched.
He looked at Mum before nodding once. He didn’t look at me again as he crossed the kitchen, pieces of vase crunching under his steps.
He left the door open, never looking back at the mess behind.
Scribbled Thoughts 