Part 1:

Devin walked up to the guard gate and showed a form of identification to those stationed at the entrance. He flashed the excepted iron coin that works as identification for the slum dwellers. As he was walking through the gates, a guard came out from the side entrance and asked, “Hay, come here for an inspection.” His unfocused eyes gaze into the crowd while his hands lazily guide Devin inside for questioning. Devin didn’t feel it would be all that eventful as he had nothing on his person.

The guard sat Devin at a table and started the quick interview. The guard had a friendly smile on his face and a warm appearance for someone of his position and considered all of the morning and grief from the deity war. It just screamed suspicious to Devin from his personal experiences. The guard said, “Hello, sir. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. The mayor has asked me to detain any citizen that comes back during these troubled times and see what activities were being done or brought back at this precious time.” Devin was just speechless at this scheme the guards would set up in the mayor's name. If the mayor were in charge of this exploitation, it would be even worse. Devin doesn’t know how to take in this information. He is just relieved that he has nothing for them to take from him. Devin can only quickly remember the sweet smile of his new wife and wonders what she is doing in heaven.

Devin replied to the guard that he had nothing of value to him. Further, he stated, “I did find a fortune out in the forest but had to abandon it for the sake of my life. Riches come and go, but I only have one life. Why waste it on the beasts of the woods, right?” The guard gave a suspicious look to Devin after mentioning the unnecessary and essential information. The guard was able to tell that Devin was not lying and that he had nothing of value, but the friendly guard still asked for another companion to come in and guide Devin back to the city entrance.

While Devin was walking further away from the gate, the friendly guard said to his companion, “I hate it when the rats don’t bring back any goods.”

The subordinate agreed, “I mean if the city's trash can’t bring back goods, they should die while picking herbs and freeing up the streets. I don’t want to go out and hire another one in the name of the major to pick up more dead bodies in the streets. We should have had them sent to the front lines as fodder to save just another soldier’s life during that tragedy.”

The friendly guard just nodded and continued to commit, “I have already brought this kind of suggestion to the mayor. I suggested rounding up the lot and selling them as cheap labor at the mines.” The friendly soldier just smiled with clouded eyes, watching the figures outside the side window.

Devin was blissfully unaware of this new development as he walked to his home hovel. The home that he put his health in was a hollowing out of the foundation of the many devastated buildings of the south district. He would always have to move some boxes and broken tiles to slide into the entrance of his home.

Throughout the years, he dug down and made a proper two rooms. The lighting was the tricky part for him. Devin went to former war sites and snuck some pieces of the soldier's armor to have it polished and reflect light underground. Devin would only find some misfortune when the rains came without prior preparation and would be as soaked as a rat in a storm drain.

Once the night passed, Devin would use his flames to keep his room light or clean himself. But, instead, Devin found himself searching for and sneaking buckets of water into his home, the most troublesome task as privacy is a problem in the slums. Not only would the local loan sharks go looking to make trouble with an able young man, but the street brats would make finding his home a game.

Devin worked hard for a little bit of peace and quiet in his home. He was once again caught in a daydream about his final moments with Ms. Moonwillow, but the reality of her power would still leave Devin swimming in his cold sweat. What he went through could only be thought of as a miracle.

Since he didn’t get any sleep that night, he decided to get some sleep, even if it was unproductive. He wanted to have his wits about him if more trouble tried to look for him so soon. So he rolled up some of his dirty, ragged clothes and some of the armor on his straw bed and used it to sleep.

Devin had a peaceful dream of Moonwillow as they went around town, exploring the hidden gems that the many common people overlook in their busy lives. But, as his sweet dreams continued to grow more precious in his world of dreams, the world outside became more rotten and colorless.

He woke with a start from the screams of people and the smell of fresh blood copper flowing into the crevice entrance of the room. He wrapped himself in his sheets and pressed himself into the hay out of instinct to hide.

Then, as his mind became clearer and the high-pitched screams of children ravaged his ears, Devin leaped out of his bedding and ran to his hideaway entrance. He was looking through the cracks; he could see the city guards dragging the slum dwellers out of the alleyways and out of their ruined homes.

He couldn’t understand what they could be doing to their citizens like this. It couldn’t be the children being taken to foster homes or being sold into slavery. No, it would be more likely to be forcibly sold to mines by criminals and lose their little lives in the mines trying to reach a small, hard place for too big of the adult workers or, even worse, to be as canaries for sacrifice to find poisonous gas. But that didn’t explain what was happening with every residential resident being taken from their homes as stubborn old goats and put into chains.

The mayor couldn’t have thought of something like this since he had always been a ruler who was well-liked and fair to his people. Could someone be acting behind his back to put these people into work camps, or could it be as simple as purging what the guards called human filth? Devin thought to himself that there had to be a reason for the madness.

Even as Devin’s heart continued to be cut apart by the pained expressions of the horror of families being ripped apart, he steeled himself to save himself and get to the bottom of this act of oppression. When that coast was clear, he moved the boxes and crawled out of his hole.

Devin continued to look around, only to stop in his tracks as the primal instinct to run overcame him. He smelled fire. Faint black smoke arose from the old homes, quickly engulfed in flames as matchboxes. Like a smoked rat, Devin ran out of the abandoned alleyways only to be pushed out by explosions of air and wooden shrapnel that exploded from house doors, throwing him into the cobbled street of the middle district.

Devin was hurt and barely moving. His back felt burning, and he was being stabbed repeatedly. A warm liquid could feel flowing down his back as his head continued to pound. Devin felt the stabbing on his chest as broken glass from the flask dug into his chest. He only wished to be able to scream out in pain, but only a silent, breathless pain was expressed in his desperate eyes.

While thinking that the angel of death would soon come for him, the wound on his chest ceased to hurt, and his body's pain was being swept away like a dream. Devin’s mind was clouded for a moment, and he didn’t know what was going on. Then, a sudden hot flash raced on his body as pressure was compressing his body as sparks ran around his flesh. In an instant, flames raced along his arms as an explosion left his body, scorching the pavement around him black.

Devin felt all his strength leave him as he crawled away from the pursuing inferno. He only had enough strength to reach the next alleyway before seeing a hand reaching out of the darkness and all going black before fainting.

Part 2:

Crowds of people gather around the outskirts of the slums with eyes filled with pity, fear, resolve, disgust, enjoyment, and awe as the inferno consumes all insight. Not until it was too late did the knights, power users, and everyday citizens take action to stop the spread of this sea of flames threatening the safety of the rest of the city.

Many of those who either watch the flames or put out the fire seem apathetic in their hearts. But, on the other hand, some smile at seeing the filth of the city cleansed by fire.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Figures continue to run out of the fires, being ignored as stray dogs are left to die on the side of the road. Unharmed survivors were hired to cart away the dead bodies and throw them back into the flames. Cremation services save grave space for those who lead a glorious death.

The flames continued to rise, and smoke blanketed the sky. A cart filled with scorched bodies passes by another victim on the edge of the flames that reach out to add it to the cart. A hand grabbed onto the ankle of the cart worker. He pulled back his leg from the iron grip only to pull the corpse. A grown escapes its lips. Fearing that a corpse had come to life again, he backed away, ready to run.

“Help,” said the figure struggling to get up. The cart driver smiled and quickly returned to the side of the struggling man with newfound strength and confidence. He lifted the injured man’s face with his foot to better look at the victims' faces. He seemed healthy enough, only groggy as simply a homeless drunk pride on the ground. The cart worker turns the suffering man over with a kick.

A sadistic glee runs across his face. He continued to think before he said, “What can you give me? As I see it, you are nearly dead and not worth the trouble to be bothered with and should only be more kindling for the fire.”

Horse breaths escape his mouth. His body is struggling to move forward, only to collapse, “Please, have some compassion; I was just married yesterday and will meet my wife in just three more nights,” he said. The cartman mumbles to himself before shaking his head. He walks over to his cart before reaching out and pulling out a burned cloth. He knees down, tying it over the injured man's eyes, restraining his limbs.

The injured man is confused at the cart driver's actions; confusion can only be felt as he is lifted and turned over into the cart. The injured man continues with his struggle, but he might as well be a child. While in the cart, he could feel more human figures around him. He panicked even more, thinking that there may be other survivors that would be sold in the slave market. Despair started to creep into his heart before thinking that he would be able to bide his time before his escape. He thought he might even be able to save some of those with him.

The cart driver said, “I don’t see any merit for you to suffer. I will do my job.” After a long while, the cart stops before a blazing building with a soldier and clergyman standing side by side. The cart driver said, “I have brought all of those I could find on the south side of the middle district.”

The soldier stared at him before saying, “Do you expect to get paid for an unfinished job? Drag those corpses out of the cart and throw them into the building to be cremated with the others while the father offers a prayer for their forsaken souls.” The soldier pats his sword and points his chin toward the burning inferno.

The cart driver starts to take the corpses out, but the soldier stops him, points to one of the moving bodies, and says, “What are you trying to pull by putting a live one with all the stiffs?” The cart driver tightens his grip around the corpse he is about to throw into the flames before letting it go.

Still looking at the flames, he said, “ He is nearly dead, and his only hope is a delusion that his new wife will return in three days.”

The soldier looks over at the struggling individual with a bit of pity, only to have his words betray him. “He looks lively to me. He might fetch a couple of silver at the slaver's market,” said the soldier. He kicks the body, causing it to stop moving.

The priest steps forward and says, “I may be able to get this young one’s origins if he was married today and have him returned. Since it was a three-day reunion wedding, we may even be rewarded for returning him to his spouse’s house.”

The guard bends down and checks his pockets to find the coin indicating the slum dwellers' identification. So he said, “No, he’s a genuine slum rat. I say we take him to auction. Preacher, send them to the auction if you find anything significant, and maybe we can get a gold piece for the trouble.”

The priest looked around in deep thought only to nod his head, saying, “Sure, I don’t see why not. I will get in contact with you tomorrow morning. Give me three coppers for the trouble, and I can get it after we finish here.”

“Sounds good to me. Hey! Cart driver drops the corpse and takes this one, the caged wagon, for me.” The driver did as he was told and left the lower half of the corpse lying in the doorway, dragging the poor soul to the wagon. The guard put restraints on him and kicked the wagon driver. “What you want something, finish your job, and then receive payment. Don’t leave your job half done.”

The cart driver, muttering under his breath, walks back to the cart filled with death and continues his labor. His sickening work continues throughout the night.

Part 3:

Devin is slowly waking up from his stupor. His head is throbbing as his ears ring. He reaches for his head, only to be stopped by metal restraints.

The room is barely made of old brick. Shadows dance around from the flickering torches—the room breaths in a constant ebbing and flowing tide. The light at the doorway breaks as muffled voices echo out.

Devin is mulling over what happened last night. “If I ever get my hands on those,” he said before opening the wooden door.

Two men stand in the doorway, smiling at the prospect. The guard on the left says, “Looks like the product is awake.”

Devin thought that the one on the right must be the one in charge of his fine robes and equipment that he held. So he said, “I will assume its worth before the auction, but I will not be held responsible for your back-end dealing.”

Devin said, “Sir, I have been brought here against my will, without a charge, and will be considered an illegal slave.”

The man in the fine robes lifted his eyebrow slightly before turning towards the guard and said, “Since the product is awake, we can now begin the tests.” The guard mumbles to himself as he puts a six bronze in the man’s outreach hand. Then, he smiles and puts away the coins in his breast pocket.

The well-dressed man takes out a white stone and places it on Devin’s chest. A ringing bell chime echoes out as it touches his skin. The well-dressed man smiles as he removes the white stone and takes a crystal ball from his coat pocket. He holds it before Devin as a slight red glow emits. The smile on the well-dressed man rises; his cheeks become rosy while a depraved sparkle is gleaming in his eyes.

Devin wants to continue to plead his case, but the deprivation etching itself on the well-dressed man's face only makes his skin crawl, causing his stomach to knot as drool escapes the man’s lips.

“Haha,” breathed the well-dressed man. He whips the drool from his mouth as he regains his composure and again expresses his disinterest. “You found a magic stone here. It would be prudent to find a buyer now than putting him up for auction,” he advises the soldier.

“If he is really a three-day mirage couple with an upper aristocrat, wouldn’t it be better to find them and return him for a good profit then?” Questions the soldier.

“Would you rather have pebbles in your pocket or a dragon’s hoard on the road? My buyers will make any possible problems disappear with this product.” The soldier was thinking hard while glancing back at Devin in chains before he agreed to meet with the clients.

How can this happen to me now, only knowing what real hope is? Devin’s throat dries, and nausea grows until he starts to dry, heaving from his empty stomach. The darkness that fills the room seems to gain life, creeping closer as the world loses its color. The men before him forms seem to twist as they turn their backs and walk away.

The door closed, and the world went quiet. Time felt as if it was frozen, and no light was left in the room. He looked around the darkness with hollow eyes before he noticed a light and color coming from his hands—a little flame flickers and dances no different from candlelight.

He watches the flame swaying as his muscles loosen and his breath deepens. Devin’s mind is quiet as the room is dark, but the calming light gives peace, and the fear is gone. He thinks about what will happen to him next, but a single thought of Moonwillow flashes across his mind, illuminating it as the sun.

“Couldn’t I escape from here by burning down this place and every vile person inside?” He remembers a sea of flames, coughing while gasping for air before shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to feel like a fish out of water again. Maybe I can melt the shackles, the door, and anyone that gets in my way to keep the spread down,” said Devin, muttering to himself. I don’t know if any of them have families, but they should have thought of that before treating life like commodities. Maybe they will know when I put my self-worth above them while escaping in their final moments.

Devin lifted the slack from his chains, binding his arms and imagining a white flame burning it until a silver pool on the floor, but the reality was different. A large orange flame dances above each palm, holding a chain, but not much happens. Don’t tell me that it will take hours, if not impossible, for me to meet these restraints. But I know I have made hotter flames than this in the past. Think: what could I be doing wrong? Is it my mental image? My mental state? My breath?

Devin closes his eyes and focuses on his deep breath. He feels the muscles of his palms strain as strength starts to leave him. Sweat starts to ball down his brow, and he gasps for breath as if chased by a beast. His body felt aflame, and currents continued to spasm across Devin.

Finally, he let out a breathless scream. Devin broke. The flames on his palms went out, and the air around Devin’s body moved as liquid as all the metal in the room glowed from orange to white as it pooled on the floor. Devin’s skin glowed red as a hot poker pulled from coals. Smoke was filling the room as the stone started to glow.

Outside the room, the guards turn to look at each other before one reaches for the door to open it. With a click of the handle, the door rushes open. A charging bull of roaring flames nocks the guards against the wall. Their seared flesh and clothes smolder.

The backdraft pulls Devin towards the door, breaking the restraints. His head is spinning only with a desire to breathe as he clutches his burning throat. He crawls through the doorway between the desperate gasps for air and his blurring vision wells with tears.

He gets to his knees and pats down the guard's smoldering bodies for the keys. Trembling hands remove the restraints. Tears well up in Devin’s eyes and fall while he continues to check the guards' bodies. Finding nothing, he lifts his still-shaking body and looks down the hall at the exit.