Destiny in Flames

Rain pattered on the roof of Scoven’s old family barn. The soft sound had always soothed him, even during the worst day of his life. Today was a new competitor for that distinction. The only creation in the world that could salvage such a day as this was Mezziana. Her father ran a farm miles away, but they always came to this old, run-down barn on the first day of the twin full moons.

The evil Raxxion Empire had laid rampage across his country and they were pillaging every village. A thick pillar of smoke could be seen out by the nearest village some hours away from his family’s farm. There was a chance, if Scoven’s family didn’t draw attention to themselves, the Raxxion’s wouldn’t notice their home deep in the woods. For the past few nights, his father had insisted they not start the hearth. Scoven had shivered in his blankets as he struggled to go to sleep.

What his parents didn’t know, was he had a deep, dark secret. It seemed he was born with a curse. It wasn’t until Scoven’s 15th sun cycle that he began to develop arcane abilities. One morning, with the sun beating down on him, he went to feed his father’s boars. The one he named Stabby when he was young, thanks to many wounds in his rear from the blasted beast’s tusks, turned on him. Scoven ran, as he always did, and upon reaching the fence he stupidly held out his hand, as if that would stop the cursed creature, when suddenly a ball of fire scorched his hand and shot toward the boar, cooking it on the spot. The worst part was, it actually smelled good. Unfortunately, he had to truss up the cooked beast and drag him into the river. His father never forgave him for losing Stabby.

As the years went by, his manipulation of fire grew. He was able to snuff out the lanterns without getting up from his cot. That was a good thing. He turned the hearth on when his mother was having trouble kindling a fire. He laughed at his father’s bewilderment when a candle he kept trying to snuff out refused to disappear. There were bad days, too, when he accidentally set something aflame in the house, or the house itself.

Those were simpler days. Before he hit adulthood on his 20th sun cycle just over a year ago. The only ones that knew about his special abilities were Mezziana and his teacher, Greybeard. That was only because he accidentally set his books on fire. He didn’t want to read about the legendary Pyros and their victories in the Raxxion War any longer. Reading about them only seemed to weigh him down with a growing sense of responsibility. Old Greybeard had told him he was chosen for such an important task, to save the world, or something like that. But what about Mezziana? Every since they were children climbing the trees in his father’s forest he had dreamed of one day marrying her. Now he was supposed to leave all of that to leave her behind and fight against an army so large their black uniforms darken the land? He didn’t know how to do what he did. He wouldn’t even begin to know where to go. He’d never traveled beyond the neighboring towns no more than a day’s journey from his farm. And what would he say? ‘Hello, my name is Scoven and I’m here to save the world?’ As if the King and Queen would even give him an audience.

No, Greybeard must be wrong. He was no savior and he wasn’t chosen by the Creator to rage war against a fearsome army. Surely it must be someone else, someone older. He wanted to live his life as he pleased.

A loud crack shook the barn walls as thunder ripped through the air. The doors creaked on their hinges as they tried to sway beyond their bonds. The rain seemed to pick up and Scroven grew worried for Mezziana. His thoughts quickly drifted to the Raxxion, however. A messager had burst in his classroom yesterday to tell everyone to go home. The dreadful army had obliterated the town just to the north and killed everyone.

I’m not a savior, he thought. I can’t do anything but douse a candle and light a hearth. I can’t fight armies. I don’t even know how I killed Stabby!

All of that was true. A banging on the barn doors startled Scoven out of his mind.

“Wh-who is it? Mezziana?”

“Blast you, boy. I’m not your little flower girl. Open up!” A gruff voice growled. His heart sank as he instantly realized who it was. Scoven unlatched the door and Greybeard pushed his way past him, his old, rickety walking staff in hand.

“What are you doing in this dingy barn? You can’t hide while the rest of the world is torn apart!” Greybeard snarled, his long beard almost as animated as the spittle flying from his mouth. This wasn’t like the teacher he knew.

“I’m waiting, obviously, sir.”

“Waiting for what? Everyone to be dead or bound? And your mother and your father as well? You’ve waited far too long already, avoiding my teachings at every opportunity. Creator be cursed for gifting a foolish boy.”

“I’m not foolish!” Scoven stepped forward as he felt heat burning up his neck.

“No, but you are selfish. Just what are you waiting to do with Mezziana?”

“It’s none of your concern.” Greybeard’s eye seem to twist as his face soured.

“When it comes to the end of the world, it is my business, and yours too. You don’t seem to understand, boy. The Raxxions come once every 10,000 cycles and try to enslave or kill every last Pyros, like yourself. If they manage to succeed, the world will burn. There will be no end to their torment, no end to their rage. You will either be a tool for the good of man or you will be one for the end of man. It is your destiny to fight. And now we have precious little time. We must flee until I can get you to another Pyros to be trained.”

Flee. Fight. Scoven hated the idea that his destiny was set when he was born. He felt a rage growing inside him. A rage fueled by the weight of responsibility too large for him to carry.

“I won’t go.”

“You what?” Greybeard thumped him on the head with his staff which caught Scoven by surprise.

“Hey, don’t hit me like that!”

“Just trying to beat some sense into you, boy. You don’t have a choice. If you don’t go, everyone you love will die or be enslaved. Today. Tomorrow. Next year. It doesn’t matter. Now, let’s go.”

Just then, the door banged into Scoven's head and threw him into Greybeard's arms. He spun around to see a dripping Mezziana in the doorway and they rushed to embrace each other. Feeling her delicate body shiver in his arms made up his mind. She felt innocent. Helpless. Scared.

"We must leave quickly," Scoven rasped.

"Where will we go?"

"As far away from here as we can," Greybeard muttered as he moved past them to look out the doors.

"We're not going with you. I'm sorry, but your destiny is not my own. I'm going to live my life as I want, with Mezziana. This war will pass as others have before," Scoven said with resolve. Greybeard turned around with veins popping out of his forehead and neck.

"Fool b..." A blast of fire shot out at Greybeard from Scoven's hands. His teacher narrowly lept out of the way but the doors of the barn burst into flames. Scoven pushed Mezziana out and ran behind her. He turned around as Greybeard looked in horror at the anger in his face.

"It's not my destiny." Scoven fled into the night where he and Mezziana lived happily for a year, until the world ended.