It was happening again. He stood in the circle waiting his turn. Today was the day. He would transcend earth and go beyond the bounds of his own body. Sweat had formed on his upper lip and dripped down his spine beneath his robe. In his mind the Transferance incantation became a jumbled mess. HE KNEW THE WORDS! He said the words and then the holy water hit the fire and the steam rose. Pain like he had never experienced jolted his body. His soul felt the heat and he had screamed! This time the scream was not just out of fear, but out of agony. The words, he said the right words why was this happening? He was going to die. The thought did not cause him further anguish, in fact it offered escape from the horror that was encompassing him mind, body and soul. He could not breath. Gasping for air, he broke through the nightmare, the memory into reality.

His room was dark, so dark. How much time had passed, Pyre did not know. One moment slid into another. The only constant was the pain, such horrific pain. It lived with him still. Not only in nightmares but during every moment of every hour. The cordials Loren poured down his throat numbed his mind but could not even partially numb his body. He wanted to die. He wanted this hell to end. Super natural fire did not burn like natural fire. It seared the body and the soul. Never had he felt so alone, so abandoned or forgotten. Once again, thoughts of suicide seeped into his mind as a means of escape, only he could not move. He was strapped into some contraption that flipped him. It was made of a breathable cloth that did not adhere to his burns. His burns. The burns covered his entire left side. His face, his neck, his body was scarred for life. He had never considered himself handsome, but attractive, yes. Not any more. His vision had been spared but the left side of his face would never recover. Always it would be a testament to his failure. A visible reminder of his ineptitude. Tears of anger and frustration filled his eyes and he could not even wipe them.

There was a soft tap on his door and then a familiar step crossed the floor. It was Loren Uhr come to torture him again. Kindly Loren said, “Good morning Pyre.”

There was nothing good about the morning, nor had there been anything good about any morning since that horrible day when he bobbled his incantation. He had gone over and over it in his mind and he could honestly not remember what he had done wrong, and yet he obviously had done something wrong. What?

The infirmary doors opened. He heard the firm step of Dr. Kran. Pyre shrank inside himself. His daily scrubbing was about to begin. Loren said, "Sorry man, but it is time to remove the dead skin again, so the new layer can breathe."

Pyre nodded. The movement shook the tears from his eyes. Without comment, Loren wiped them away with a cloth. He asked, "Need to blow your nose?" Pyre shook his head. "All right then, let us begin."

The contraption was opened and Pyre was rolled onto a narrow cot. He was completely naked. The two men vigorously scoured the burned skin with special brushes. The pain as usual spiked to the point of black out but somehow this morning Pyre held on. He hated blacking out.

Dr. Kran said, "There, son, I know it hurts, but we must get the dead skin off so you don't get an infection. We have come this far, we don't want to loose ground now."

If any ground had been gained, Pyre did not see it or feel it. He could not see or feel any improvement at all. How he wished he had not signed his life away. What an idiot he had been, was, would always be.

When his scrubbing was done, Dr. Kran prayed and gently sprinkled healing powder over the worst of his burns. The powder momentarily soothed his angry red skin. After his body absorbed the powder, Loren gently rubbed an ointment on him that he said would reduce the scarring. Would it? Reduced scars did not mean no scars. No woman would want him now. Not that it mattered...

The odd moment came when Dr. Kran and Loren left him to attend to other patients. As much as he hated their coming and what they did to him, he felt less isolated when they were in the room with him. He also felt less afraid. The fear he had was undefinable, but it was there and it grew in isolation and expanded in the dark of night.

In isolation he was haunted by that night when he had been so stupid. All he wanted to do was go back, go back to that night and not ask Fand to marry him. If he had stayed inside, if he had kept his mouth shut how different would their futures have been? He would never know because no one ever got to go back to undo their stupidity.

Before his accident, he had begun to learn to live without Fand. His hours were full and he was mostly able to block her from his mind. Upon occasion though, despite the potions, the magic, the mind control tactics he had been learning, Fand still slipped through. He would think he was rid of her for good and then boom, she would appear in his dreams or his nightmares, either way he didn't care. She was there, she was with him, that was all that mattered. Now, that didn't even matter. If she had not wanted him at his best, she surely would not want him at his worst. The thought of her was one more torture in this world of pain where he now lived.

Silently Pyre prayed the prayer he prayed every morning, "Please, I just want to die. I want to go. Why don't you just take me? This pain, I cannot endure it anymore. Please, take me." Tears slid down his cheeks. The salt in them burned his raw skin. All at once he felt a shift inside himself. Something entered into his pain. It did not take it away. He hurt just as much as ever, yet his sense of isolation decreased. He became keenly aware of a presence greater than pain in the room, in his body and in his soul. The Keeper? Was this the Keeper? He stretched out his mind to the presence, and instantly knew, he had just made contact with the mystery of the ages. This was not what he had expected or even wanted. Relief from physical pain did not come, but for the first time since the accident he felt his spirit stir. It was not dead yet. A tiny flicker of light sputtered inside of him. Was it hope? Could it possibly be hope? He did not know, but something was changing. Something, what or why, he did not know and he dared not question it lest it withdraw.

*

One day followed another and then one week, followed another. Time blurred into something isolated and cave like, but somehow a shelter of sorts. Pyre's suicidal thoughts began to visit him less. Each time they arrived he would close his eyes and turn his mind to the Keeper. The Keeper's presence would meet and enfolded him. It did not remove the pain or miraculously soothe his damaged skin, but it did make him aware of the fact he was indeed healing. Slowly, his body was mending as was his mind and spirit.

Every day with gentle hands Loren Uhr tended to Pyre's damaged skin. The scrubbing stopped being painful.The scars lost their angry red and became a softer shade of pink. They were still raised and always would be, but the red was not there. One night, Loren brought him a gown and lead him to a different room with a normal bed. To stretch out and move freely was a gift, a pleasure. He had survived. What came next he did not know nor did he ask? Would they send him home as an utter failure or would he be allowed to stay. He was too ashamed of his appearance to even entertain the idea that Fand might want him, ever. She was a stubborn an uncompromising girl. She wanted True Love and surely, she would get it.

After a week in his new room, Dr. Kran visited him and told him, “It is time you returned to the dormitory.”

He could not believe his ears. If he was going to the dormitory did that mean he was not going to be disgraced and kicked out of his apprenticeship? He dare not ask, but hope whispered inside of him.

Dr. Kran said, “You will be allowed to attend classes half a day for the first week and if that goes well, you will be able to resume a full schedule next week.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

*

It was his first night in his own room. Pyre knelt beside his cot and thanked the Keeper for sparing his life. He had a new resolve to live out what life now offered him and to release the life he would never get to live. Acceptance was a heavy, but hard burden to shoulder, but it was a necessary one.

Later in bed, he stared up at the ceiling. He could not believe that his life was resuming.To actually be eager to get back to his studies made him laugh. Never in those bored hours with Elder Zwar did he think he would one day find learning interesting or appealing, but he did.

Though thoughts of Zog and Fand hovered on the edges of his mind he did not let them enter. They were the past, he must focus on his future and what the Keeper required of him. His eyes began to grow heavy. Sleep, normal sleep, not induced by potions or medicine, began to slip over him like a warm and comforting blanket. Soon his was drifting...