The inferno roars, tongues of flame leaping high into the air. With some sense other than physical hearing, I hear the sounds of desperate screams fill the air. Closing my eyes, I revel in the power that lies at my fingertips, the sense of my control being on a knife’s edge sending a thrill through me.

If I lose control of this fire, it will sweep through a large portion of the forest before it burns out. Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of beings would be killed as it burns unchecked. Millions, if I consider the insects and flora. Perhaps the effect wouldn’t be as bad now as it would have been in the height of summer, but even the rains we’ve had so far haven’t sunk in enough to truly stymie its progress. Especially not with a fire as strong as this one.

But I won’t let that happen. I have too much reason not to. There are too many lives riding on me maintaining control, too many people I don’t wish to disappoint. Too many potential gains from burning only what I wish to burn.

So I cling onto control. I am on the back of a galloping horse, but I am in my seat with my hands on the reins. I am on the back of a tiger, but I have a knife to its throat. I am damming a river and feeling its power try to push through my barrier, but still I am controlling the jet of its exit.

It takes all my Will, all my concentration. I have to rely on my Bound to keep me safe while I do this or risk being attacked at the worst moment. I know that if that happened, I would fully lose control of the fire. My attacker wouldn’t come off well since they’d probably be immolated by the fire that I would then be surrounded by, but the damage would be done.

Forcing my eyes to open, I wonder at the beauty of the destruction before me. Trees are like roman candles, blazing with light and sending out explosions of sparks. Twisting and writhing, I almost feel sorry for them as they try to escape the blaze. But this must be done. They are a cancer on this area, trying to take over everything.

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Finding the fire pulling at my control again, I’m forced to close my eyes once more.

Not long after, I sense that we need to move. Too far from me and I will definitely lose control. Walking forward, I move slowly, each foot carefully placed to make sure that I don’t accidentally jolt myself. The ground is hot, but that somehow doesn’t matter to me.

In this state, though I’m not exactly part of the fire, I am somehow kin with it. As such, the heat doesn’t do more than warm me. My Bound are another question, and I have to make the decision over whether I can afford the concentration to pull the heat out of their paths forwards, or if I can risk moving forwards alone.

Preferring to keep them with me if I can, I tentatively reach out a tendril of my awareness, pulling the spark of fire from the area directly around me and returning it to myself. Unlike before when I had such trouble with extinguishing fire, now it is no problem: I was the spark, and therefore the spark is me. Transforming it back into my own mana is just a matter of Will.

I send a sense of reassurance to my companions, wordlessly indicating the area around me which I instinctively know is cool enough for them to traverse. I trust them to follow the implicit guidance. If they don’t, they will feel the burn and quickly be directed back to cooler paths anyway.

Walking towards the fire, I clear a route for my Bound, replenishing my dwindling mana pool as I do: controlling the fire is not mana-hungry as I am not feeding it directly, but it does take power to accomplish.

Time becomes immaterial, the world simply reduced to one of stark beauty: dark and light, tree and ash, hot and cool, black and orange and red and yellow. I refill my stocks of mana almost as quickly as I use them, but my mental energy drains with time. My lips become dry and cracked, my throat like sandpaper when I swallow.

And then something changes. I feel something reach out to me.

Please, I hear, whispered on the wind.