First Flame

[SilasNorth]

Third hour of the afternoon.
The thrice bellowing of the clock startled him, pulling him from his position somewhere between a haze and stalwart concentration upon the letters and diagrams in the open book before him. The night before had not been pleasant and yielded not a single step in improvement despite the dedication promised to the twilight hours and beyond.
It was frustrating to say the least...

Fourth hour of the afternoon and the chimes followed.
How did THAT happen?! Where did the last hour go?! His mind raced for possibilities beyond the simple solution that he fell asleep again. That was unacceptable. In his tussle and haze, somehow the book was on a different page now. At least that seemed to be the feeling, as he wasn't entirely certain where he was before. This only fueled the frustration, poked at the swelling anger as maniacal chuckling erupted from all corners; the clock with its incessant ticking like a drawn out snicker of someone giving not even a bare minimum of effort to conceal the fact that they were MOCKING YOU! And yes the candle did this as well, with a sound that only he could hear because he was perceptive enough, a genius. He knew. He knew the gestures were correct. He TRIED focus, he TRIED relaxing himself even forcibly through alcohol and incense. There was no way a spry young man of HIS intellect could be making a mistake with the gestures he practiced again and again. There was something else at work, some kind of bad luck at play. The black cats, the desecration of the ruins from earlier, maybe one of the house torn apart on the docks by his hand in a drunken rage belonged to some kind of hexing witch!

Yes, that was the answer... Pure and simple. He was too smart for anything otherwise. Too smart... Too smart... Was he simple thinking the words or muttering them as he was continuing the gestures? Who cared! No one cared! His so-called former master certainly didn't care, that was for sure.
"I could kill him.. I could just KILL the bastard for teasing me with this power then pulling the rug right out from under me."
Only those responsible for 'her' death angered him more.

Then came the beautiful sight. Every single building, every home, every loved one of those horrible, disgusting people... ablaze. From a distant hilltop, or maybe along the walls he could watch as the lovely spectrum of red and orange danced merrily upon the remains of the inconsiderate, the ungrateful, and the stupid... Within the sight gifted onto him, he could see the fires going beyond that, spreading naturally as such things did. There was no concern to this, no regrets. Why regret a masterpiece? Why regret art in it's perfection? The city of Cear deserved no less after all. The charred forms in sight fell with smiles burned into their faces, appreciation to be a part of something so pristine and perfect. All was as it should be, at least in the mind of his genius. He knew this to be a dream, the back of his mind shouting as much. However, he refused to open his eyes. There was nothing wrong with a little dreaming after all.

He leaned back, the chair giving a light creek with the shifting of weight upon it. The clock's laughing stopped, the chime of five not surprising, nor disturbing, him. He was relaxed, comfortable, fingers twitching of their own tuned accord.

The mockery of the candle fell into forever silence as well as the top end of the wick now burned a healthy, alluring glow.