Chapter 006

That Night

He was awoken by the putrid stench piercing his nostrils.

Unveiling his heavy eyelids, Rune’s doughy and leaking eyes sluggishly adjusted themselves to the dark environment. What first he discovered was how he wasn’t sleeping on his bed but rather lying on the hardened, wooden floor. His next revelation came as an even bigger shock. Seeping from underneath his bedroom’s door billowed thick and large puffs of dark clouds.

Like an excited feline, Rune sprung off the floorboards. Above him, practically clinging to his roof, was a swollen, pulsating cluster of smoke. He swiftly blanketed his mouth and nose with his hands, thus sparing himself from inhaling the contaminated odors. Confused and partially dazed, he desperately attempted to navigate his way through his own room. Aimlessly fumbling throughout the darkness, he struggled to forecall what exactly happened since he’d fallen to sleep?

After dinner, he remembered hurriedly going to his room. His excuse was that he was exhausted from his rough day. In actuality, he merely longed to hone his magic casting skills even further. Other than the fuzzy memories of him gazing at the puny sparks of fire he repeatedly manifested, he’d no recollection of what transpired afterward. Had he passed out from smoke inhalation or had he already fallen asleep before this madness started?

Stumbling to his door, Rune failed at keeping a certain, disturbing inquiry out of his head. Clutching a hand to his chest, he pondered out loud, “Did I do this?”, in a quivering voice.

Suddenly, a loud crash erupted downstairs. It was a noise Rune could clearly identify as collapsing wood. “Mom!” he shouted. Forcefully pushing open his door, a wave of heat assaulted him. Being a fire mage, he was taught he’d eventually grow an immunity to the intensity of fire. Even when he practiced his basic spells, he rarely discerned the heat it emanated.

However, standing at his doorstep, what all he could feel violently caressing his fair cheeks was that of ignited air. Patches of wildfire dotted the floors as chunks of wood crashed down from the ceiling. To make matters worse, the thick layers of smoke made it difficult to discern where exactly he was going. As fortune would have it, however, he lived in the house long enough to be knowledgeable of its general layout.

“Eight steps right, five steps forward.”

If his mental map was correct, the stairs shouldn’t be too far away. With squinted eyes and an arm wrapped around the lower portion of his head, he hesitantly plunged into the void of smoke and black. Occasionally, his waist would collide with the wall beside him or he’d nearly trip because of a piece of burned debris. By the time his hand managed to grab ahold of the railing of the stairs, he already felt like passing out. Slowly but surely, he descended the staircase.

“Stay awake,” he’d repeat to himself whenever he felt the seductive urge to faint ensnare him. “Stay awake...until you find them...”

Carefully placing his foot on the next step below he suddenly felt the wood underneath give out and his body start to fall. Butterflies fluttered inside of his stomach. A current of wind screeched into his ears. And as he was about to shut his eyes for good, pain injected itself onto his right knee and, much like a virus, spread up his leg. Another sharp sting assaulted his thigh, another his waist, and another his scalp. Finally, as amplified agony invaded his left shoulder, Rune’s chin collided with the floor. There he lay just barely holding onto his consciousness, all the while his body throbbed from the numerous injuries. Rune readied himself to pass out but, ahead of him, his fractured glance focused on something, or rather, someone he cherished most dearly.

“Mom...” he whispered.

Not even ten paces in front of him he found her lying motionless and showcasing no signs of life. Atop the woman sat a large pile of wooden planks along with chunks of the ceiling, most of which were being consumed by greedy flames. Hopping from where he lay, Rune sprung to his mother’s assistance, completely ignoring the pain and drowsiness he experienced mere seconds ago.

“Mom!” Rune shouted. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here!”

Crouching to her and grabbing her outstretched hands, Rune pulled and tugged with every ounce of his strength. But no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn’t budge. Eventually, his weak and quivering legs gave out, Rune unwillingly letting go of his mother and tumbling to the floor. Rising yet again, he frantically searched for Uncle Terry or his grandfather. He desperately needed their help. However, neither left nor right, Rune failed to find them. And with every second waisted the fire which burned above his unconscious mother grew greater.

I’ll never be able to move all that debris in time! Unless I find some water to douse it out! But how would I go about doing it? Suddenly, a thought dawned on him. Staring at his hand, he thought, If my fire magic truly got us into this mess, then maybe it can help us get out of it?

Rune quickly drew a glowing magic circle in the air. When it dissipated, he pointed both his hands at the pile of flaming debris and shouted, “Ignis Exilium!”. It changed nothing. From Rune’s perspective, it only seemed to aggravate the fire even more. “Come on!” he screamed in frustration. “Ignis Exilium! Ignis Exilium!” With each of his attempts the fire never stopped its advance. Splinters of wood cracked. Streams of smoke wafted skyward. And a crimson fate rapidly approached Rune’s mother.

“Dammit!” Rune shouted, collapsing to his knees and slamming his fists. “Why isn’t this working?! Why am I so useless?!”

“Rune...” His ears perked at the sound of her weakened gasps. Rune gazed in front of him to see his mother, lines of red trickling down her face, struggling to communicate. Releasing a strong set of coughs, she afterward whispered softly, “It isn’t safe. You must leave this place now...”

“I’m not going anywhere! I’m gonna get you out of there so just hold on a little longer!”

“Rune, I can’t feel my legs. Even if by some miracle you do free me, I won’t be able to move...I’d only slow you down. And if you don’t leave soon, we’ll both perish.”

“No! We won’t! When Dad left, I promised him I’d protect you! So I can’t just run away!”

“I admire your courage but if you stay here with me...you will die. You know this, don’t you?”

Of course, he did! Whether he liked it or not he knew he wouldn’t be able to dispel the magic nor free his mother from her prison. His frustration soon evolved into anger. And as the world burned around him, his anger eventually degraded into sadness. Tears flooded from his red eyes, Rune burying his face into his palms.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he sobbed. “Turn my back and leave you here? Well, I'm sorry! I just can't! I’m not that strong, Mother! I don’t think I ever will be.”

“What I want is for you to survive,” she corrected. Lori weakly reached her arm towards him, her sobbing son clasping his hand around hers. “Listen to me, Rune. You mustn't be allowed to die. You need to live on. The world still needs your fire.”

With tears cascading down his face, he asked “What are you talking about? My fire?”

“Yes, it can’t be doused here...”

“It won’t!” Shoving his hands inside the cluster of splintering, charred wood, Rune converted all of his strength into his arms. “And I won’t let you die either!” he shouted, pulling out small pieces of wood and throwing them to the side. “Mages are supposed to protect people, aren’t they?! Well, that’s what I’m going to do!”

He removed the chunks of debris piece by piece and with little regard for his own well-being. He figured it wouldn’t be long before he fainted again though as he glanced at his mother lying helplessly on the floor a surge of motivation overwhelmed him.

Ignoring the smoke polluting the air. Ignoring the pain coursing through his fragile body. And ignoring his mother’s desperate pleas, Rune continued to whittle away at the burning pile. However, lifting another heap of debris off the pile the boy froze. Not because of exhaustion but due to a sudden assault of astonishment. Staring at him from further down the hallway ahead of him wasn’t his grandfather or his uncle. It was someone he’d never seen. A monster shrouded in the dark clouds of streaming smoke, gleaming red eyes analyzing him profusely.

Rune squinted. He wasn’t able to discern any distinguishing features yet he was able to identify the intruder as a man with a slender frame. He wanted to believe this veiled intruder had come to help. That molecular hope died as the intruder aimed his gleaming, blood-red eyes at him and sluggishly advanced towards them. Rune, robbed of ideas, energy, and time, remained frozen in his spot. As the man got closer, Rune was able to spot the widened grin plastered on his pale face.

He then pointed a hand at him and before Rune knew it, everything and everyone around him evaporated. Almost as if they never even existed in the first place. Now what surrounded him was miles and miles of alien nothingness, accompanied solely by an eternal chorus of silence.

Adrift in this void, Rune disappeared.

The news spread like a literal wildfire.

It took a short period of two days before everybody learned of the truth. The tragic event officially being called the “Ransford Cremation” had swiftly become the talk of the town. A tragedy in which an entire house was burned to the ground with the sole survivor being that of a mageborn child. Naturally, rumors blossomed.

People began to believe Rune himself had started the fire. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for novice mages to cause these kinds of accidents. Their feeble minds and inexperience were what led to so many unintentionally causing harm with their abilities. Though nothing had been officially confirmed by the soldiers who investigated the scene, the townsfolk of Primrose naturally arrived at this conclusion by themselves. This didn’t surprise Rune as he’d already anticipated the outcome. Considering the hatred they already had towards his family, he knew they’d never give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, they’d another reason to despise him. He suspected some folks were happy, overjoyed even, that the family of the Crimson Traitor had met such a brutal end.

While Rune wasn’t one to let the words of others bother him, this time was different. When he woke up in the arms of a soldier who’d apparently rescued him before his burning house collapsed, his memory was hazy at best, as he could only recall bits and fragments of what happened. He remembered using his magic. He remembered a monstrous blaze encompassing him. He remembered his mother’s last words. And finally, he remembered drowning in the Abyss.

Based on the official reports issued by the military, he couldn’t blame the world if they now viewed him as a murderer. He was starting to think so as well. As two days eventually turned into a week, Rune had yet to venture out of the large yet empty room. He just sat slouched in a bed, his dead gaze targeting his lap.

“Tell me, Rune. Do you know what a magical rejection is?” Sitting on wooden chairs beside him were Leora and her uncle, a man named Max Simmons. Though he possessed similar features as his niece, such as brown eyes and creamy, Esteran skin, his set of dark, ruffled hair reminded Rune of Ethan’s, along with his surprisingly brawny build. “Well?” he asked, twiddling the ignited cigarette in his hand. “Do ya?”

“I’ve heard mention of it once in school. It’s when a mage’s magic goes out of control, right?”

“I suppose that’s the simplified answer,” sighed Max, sticking the cigarette inside his mouth. “Practicing magic requires a lot of concentration and emotional stability. Two things kids don’t exactly specialize in. Although, this can happen to even professional mages if they’re too reckless. When attempting to cast a spell when our essence reserves are low, our concentration is fragmented, or during a period of emotional distress, it results in our magic running wild. Unlike magic highs, however, amidst a rejection, mages have little to no authority over their magic or themselves. And in most cases, a mage ends up receiving a “punishment”, so to speak.”

“What kind of punishment?”

“For ice mages, their rejection might result in them freezing to death. For earth mages, they might turn to stone for all eternity. The side effects of a magic rejection depend exclusively on the type of magic the mage specializes in. They are completely random and almost always deadly.”

“Then why didn’t Rune receive a punishment?” asked Leora.

“Well, to my knowledge, there are two definitive methods of canceling a magic rejection. One is if the mage is subdued by another magic-user. And the other is if the mage runs out of essence. Without essence, magic cannot exist,” he explained, puffing on his cigarette. “You said your earliest memory is that of waking up in your room, yes? My guess is the latter happened to you.”

Rune slumped further into his bed. “Does the military think so as well?”

“Until they’ve evidence which contradicts my hypothesis, it’s the only explanation. Luckily, since this has been identified as a magic rejection case you won’t be charged with murder or arson. But you will need to seek therapy along with magic regulation lessons. I notified the military that I’ll take you into custody until you get back on your feet. Speaking of, I’ve still got a mountain of paperwork I need to finish. I hope you’re grateful for what I’m doing, you troublesome little squirt.”

“I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff, kid. You Ransfords have always been friends of our family. Our doors are always open to ya.”

“I’m grateful for your kindness," Rune smiled. "I assume the rest of Primrose is now afraid of me, huh?”

“Knowing them, most likely.”

“Then, maybe it’d be best if I leave. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. Especially if it means the town will start projecting their anger at you.”

“Who cares what they think?!” shouted Leora. The girl leaned forward in her seat, locked eyes with her astonished friend, and said, “You don’t have to go anywhere, Rune! This isn’t your fault nor your burden to bear!”

“Not my fault? If it weren't for me none of this would’ve happened in the first place. If I’d just gone to sleep that night, Mom would still be...”

Leora shot out of her seat and grabbed Rune by the shoulders. “Stop blaming yourself so much! This kind of mistake is commonplace in an age of magic! It could’ve happened to any mage!”

“So you’re saying this excuses what I’ve done?! My family is dead and I’m the one who killed them!”

“Even if that is the case, they wouldn’t want you to wallow in grief nor would they wish for you to abandon the only town and friends you’ve ever known while you’re still just a kid! They’d want you to move forward with your life! Don’t you think you owe it to yourself and your family to at least try?!”

For some inexplicable reason, he was reminded of the last words he ever heard his mother say. “...Move forward?” he repeated.

“Yes, it’s what I had to do when my father died. It’s what Ethan did when he failed his entrance exam into the military academy. And if you ever hope to put this behind you, you’ll have to move forward as well!”

“But I’m not like you, Leora. Or Ethan for that matter. Do you honestly think I can move on from something like this?

“Of course I do. Because you’re strong. Stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met.” Leora answered with a warmhearted smile. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy and I’m also not trying to make light of your situation. I just don’t want to see my best friend spend the rest of his life hurting. I don’t think I could take it.” The girl plopped back down onto her seat and wiped away the tears in her soggy, brown eyes. “And you don’t have to do this alone, you dummy. When I lost Dad, I had my brother and uncle to confide in. So let us help you.”

“Leora, I...”

“Regardless of your plans for the future, it stands to reason that you could use some time to reflect and rest,” said Max, smoke projecting out his mouth. “Get comfortable with that bed, kid. Cause we’re not letting you go anywhere just yet.”

Before Rune could retaliate, a knock came from the door on the other side of the room. “I realize this is a bit sudden,” said Ethan as he stepped inside, stiff as a statue. “But we have some unexpected guests.”

Rune’s eyes widened. Entering the room behind the ever nervous recovery mage were two military soldiers. One was a man with piercing dark eyes and groomed, dark brown hair. Rune assumed he held the most authority of the two if the triplet of bronze insignias decorating his uniform’s collar were any indication. Standing closely by his side was a woman with a set of shortcut, crimson-colored hair which was tied into a bow. She captured the most of his interest due to the black jacket she donned. For it happened to be the official uniform of the combat mages. What were such incredible individuals doing in a small little town like this, Rune pondered.

“Forgive me for disturbing you during such trying times, I only came to ask a few questions,” the male officer started.

Max rose out of his chair. “And whom do we have the pleasure, sir?”

“Ah, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself,” he kindly replied, bowing his head to Max. “My name is Captain James Griffin and this here is First Lieutenant Zen.”

“It’s Zenobio, actually,” the woman corrected, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Nice to meet you.”

“You see,” James continued. “We came here hoping to meet a child by the name of Rune Ransford. If it’s all the same with you, we’d like to have a brief conversation with him, regarding his magic.”