text: The Old Man shuffled around his cabin, collecting papers he’d laid out the night before. Having found his writings, he moved to the back of the cabin and tossed them into the fire with a lazy flick of his wrist. In a few days, they wouldn’t matter anymore. His cabin wasn’t large, consisting mostly of counters and shelves stocked with curious objects he’d collected over time. An oak table stood in the middle of the room. Now that it was empty, it seemed to take up even more space than before. Standing in front of the fire, the Old Man spent a single, silent tear from his one good eye. “I wished to spend more time with them, but it seems they aren’t as accepting as I’d hoped.” The old man said to the fire. As it wrapped around the papers, erasing them, the fire crackled its response. “Thank you, old friend. I always enjoyed your company when visiting.” The Old Man murmured to the flame before becoming lost in thought. “Funny how you were one of the first, yet I still haven't grown tired of you. I only wish the others were as welcoming as you. You are respectively complex and simple, the villagers could learn a thing from you. Most of them believe you to be best suited for destruction, though you are meant for maintaining life.” His eye glazed over as his mind wandered, straining to grasp the nature of all the people he’d met. “It won't be long now.” The Old Man knew they would be coming for him since he had been chased out of the village hours before. He couldn't allow them to discover anything he had lying around here, for they wouldn't be prepared for the secrets they'd find. Healing them didn’t gain their trust, and sharing knowledge wouldn't gain their pacifism. Humans were like that. When something they don't understand approaches them, they are quick to deny, ignore, and even hate it. The Old Man had searched for a village that would understand him, even welcome him and his teachings. After all, he was a mentor, and what is a mentor without a student? One who's meant to guide others struggles when there is no one to guide. The flame did not respond. “Oh my, I am truly sorry.” The Old Man said to the ashes. He had lost track of time, the sun was now rising to burn in the sky. Left unattended for too long the fire burned through all it had, extinguishing its own life simply by living. There was something to be learned here, even for the Old Man who knew so much. Before he could grasp it and hold that lesson close, the sounds of shouting pulled it away from him. “Get out here!” Miss Ava screeched from outside. “You, you, and James get ready to go in there and get him if he wants to be difficult.” “Yes, Mistress.” James nodded. James was Miss Ava’s personal henchman, and plaything. He was a stocky butler who had served the family for years. Even before her husband's passing, Miss Ava was known to have the not too occasional affair, her favorite often rumored to be the butler. Now it was practically common knowledge, though no one was brave enough to bring it up. They had all been there when the executions took place. James had pulled the other end of the noose himself after throwing his weighted end over a tree branch. He pulled those men off the ground and held them there as they squirmed. Those were the lucky ones. The other two men were just part of the crowd Miss Ava had gathered in the square last night. She hadn’t expected such a large turnout, but mob mentality had its advantages. Even those who didn’t help with the dirty work, wouldn’t want to miss the execution. Miss Ava had been married to the late mayor. His sudden passing had left the seat of power empty, and though she was slow to mourning, she was quick to sit in that position. A woman mayor wasn’t unheard of, her husband’s grandmother Grace once ruled here. Miss Ava claimed she was always Grace’s favorite, a lie of course, and she had no problem taking advantage of the people's naiveness to gain her throne. The mayor's son was working to take his father's office, but shortly after his passing, the boy fell ill. He was too weak to rise from his bed, and the staff was forbidden to see him. Only his step-mother was allowed to treat him. Those who opposed her found the noose shortly after. She swore off the position of mayor, a Queen would rule here from now on she declared. Whispers of revolt hung from a tree, and hope burned shortly after. With nooses and torches in hand, the mob surrounded the cabin. Miss Ava made her way to the front, hands empty. “My boy was getting better.” She shouted. “You show up in My town and claim to be a healer, performing “miracles” trying to steal My people’s trust, and now look where you are. You wanted what was mine, well now you can have them.” Throwing her arms forward, the townspeople swept towards the cabin. The Old Man sat in the center of the cabin facing the door. His good eye was closed, and his composure seemed calm as three men burst into his cabin. Immediately, the villagers began sweating profusely. Their vision blurred as they attempted to stand on shaky legs. They all clutched their heads in pain, and James fell to the floor, convulsing. The two villagers ran from the cabin, fleeing the furnace, leaving their fellow man on the ground. Behind them, the Old Man closed his blind eye. “What are you two doing!” She screamed. The two men stumbled past her and back into the crowd. “Fine, remind me later that you two will be joining him.” Miss Ava strode towards the cabin. James stumbled out of the door, vomit covering his chest. He collided with Miss Ava nearly knocking her over. “Disgusting.” She snapped. “I'm sorry.” James managed to get out. “Move, you big idiot.” She turned to address the crowd. “Is there no one here competent enough to drag a crippled old man out of his cabin?” The crowd gazed past her. Startled by the imposing figure behind her. A man stood in the doorway, upright rather than hunched over. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and where a blind eye should have been, was a burning sun. “Crippled?” The Old Man asked from behind her. “I’m only missing one eye, and sure, my legs don't move quite as fast as they used to. These long years may have hunched my shoulders, but I’d still consider myself less damaged than you.” Miss Ava spun around. “How dare you speak to me like that.” She spit, and slapped the Old Man. “James, get yourself back up here and deal with this.” Having barely recovered, James gathered up some of the more willing villagers, most of whom were imprisoned by the previous mayor. Violence wasn’t common in this town, and crime was often punished with labor. However, it did have a small jail for crimes too harsh to be ignored. Together they dragged the Old Man from the cabin, forcing a noose around his neck. James tossed his weighted end over the limb of a nearby tree, and the gang hoisted the Old Man into the air. “Now, Now. This would be a far too easy end for a man like you.” Miss Ava said, walking with a chair in hand she grabbed from the cabin. She sat the chair just under the Old Man's feet, gesturing for the men to let him down far enough to stand on it. “This should be more fitting, you’ll hang yourself rather than let your feet burn. Everyone does.” With a snap, unseen by anyone else, she set the chair ablaze with a soft yellow flame. The Old Man didn’t cry out in pain. He stood in the fire wondering if this could have been avoided somehow. His thoughts wandered to earlier days, had Father known his creations would become so lost? Of course he did, Father had created his Keepers after all. Embers, such as Miss Ava drifted away from the Flame, and it was The Old Man's job to return them. As a Flame Keeper, he was expected to control the damage a drifting Ember could cause. Though, Embers weren’t an issue before Father left. Could it be Father’s fault their society had all but fallen apart? The Old Man focussed, he could not allow himself to doubt everything now. A boy, barely past his fifteenth year, pushed through the crowd. He woke up to an empty town and remembered The Old Man's last words to him. He’d been told that his step-mother would come by again tonight and that if he didn't trust the Old Man then he wouldn't live to see the next morning. All the heat had been taken from his body, he remembered growing cold, and suddenly aware of his own pulse slowing. Miss Ava had entered the room that night, shocked to find his heart already stopped. She’d been slowly raising the boy's fever through her control of The Flame, planning to make his death look like the result of an incurable illness. That morning, a comfortable heat had come back to his body, just as the Old Man promised. A heat that reminded him of winter nights by his grandmother's fireplace, when she would tell him stories of her travels. It was nothing like the miserable heat of his stepmothers. “Old Man!” He yelled. Miss Ava’s mouth hung open, speechless. She spun at the sound of the boy, and watched as the townspeople collectively wiped the sweat from their brow and collapsed. Except for the boy. The sound of screams turned her head towards James and her other henchman. They fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt as a golden flame roared around them. Their cries stopped, and the wind carried their remains over the collapsed villagers. “No.” She began to sweat, not from the heat, but from her nervousness. “I've been so careful not to be found.” “Your misuse of The Flame could not go unnoticed by me.” The Old man declared. “In our Father’s absence you know it is I who keeps you stray Embers in check. We are not meant to control humans like this. You've manipulated The Flame for too long, and it’s time you returned home.” “Come with me, young man,” Grace said, suddenly standing next to the boy. “you have much to learn about your grandfather and me. Just let him finish here.” The Old Man’s flame crawled up Miss Ava’s legs, turning her body to ash as it climbed. She wondered who was screaming as her voice filled her ears. Her gaze drifted up to the Old Man standing on the chair, and his blind eye burned bright.