Not even realizing he brought up his mother, Cyne's smile dropped, and the flashes of her in his memory flashed through his mind rapidly. "I was fairly young when she passed, old enough to know what was happening, and young enough to remember it. She'd been sick for some time, and our best mages tried to heal her, but even healing water can only do so much. She'd succumbed, and I remember the rain falling without a cloud in the sky." His head drifted down, looking at the creature he sat upon as he continued to remember her presence.<br/><br/>"I'm not sure how familiar you are with how magic works Elara, but I did explain to you last night during our soak together that certain things can change a mage's abilities. With the death of my mother, my father's heart hardened, as did his fire. I can assure you, his flames now stem from anger, almost as much as they do from pride." Letting the air sit for a bit, he held out a hand, far enough from his steed that it wouldn't be able to feel the heat. Igniting a small spark in his palm, the small blue flame that came naturally to him seemed like a flickering torch before burning out. "My fire once was the same color as my father's, and his father before him. The rage that engulfed him added fuel to his magics, yet added a refinement to mine. The sadness I felt from the passing of my mother inexplicably changed my flame. My pale blue flames do burn hotter than most, but not as powerfully. The show I gave you last night, the flickering colors and dancing images, is something my father would struggle with."<br/><br/>He closed his hand, the soft sound of his flame extinguishing seeming almost blaring in his somber thoughts. "I apologize, Elara, if I seem to ramble on about this. It's not normally a topic open to discussion. Although I guess in the middle of the plains with only your steed and a newfound ally to hear, it's an opportune moment."