The Forsaken Luna’s Revenge
With each step, the flickering light from the walls revealed glimpses of the boy's past.
He looked at the pictures in silence.
One displayed him, older, with pride, in front of a luminous audience.
Another depicted him lifting his hand and fire blossoming into buildings, flowers, and trees.
"You had strength," I remarked softly.
"I was the First Flame's Heir," he answered. "The flames did not burn." It was constructed. It got better. With that, I created life.
He studied his fingertips. I can't even start a spark anymore, though.