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Fire. It is both loved and feared. It is thought to be uncontrollable, a force of unknown limits. People have tried for centuries to understand it, magicians tried to harness it, Lords demanded to have it. All failed, but I will be the first to tame it, to harness its power and master it. It is what I died for....Fire.

Fantasy / Adventure
Age Rating:

The End

All I wanted was to live a different life. A life with adventure and danger, a life I was happy with. Not the life that was expected of a farmer's daughter. But this was far from what I thought would happen. I never thought I would die at the young age of 25.

The odd part is, they didn't care that I had commited Thievery, murder, or conspiracy to commit murder of royals. They imprisoned me for what I had not yet achieved or had scarecly begun to learn, to be a pyromancer.

When I was caught, I was with my Pyromancer teacher, Elio. He had left to retrieve some scrolls, or so he had told me. Now I knew the real reason he left, because he knew they were there for me. The Lord's soldiers.

I remember screaming for him, for Elio,my teacher, my lover, but he had disappeared.

I was so angry then. Now I understand, however, since I knew in my heart and with all the things I had done that I would've done the same. That's how selfish I was, how I used to be.

Now I sit in cell. Four brick walls enclosing me in the darkness. If I feel around with my hands. I can feel sketches and writings that other prisoners had made before me. The only light I recieved was from the small square window over head. some may think of escaping that way...but its 10 feet high and far too small for anyone except perhaps a small child and the rats. That square above me is the only way I know anything of outside. The only bath I recieve is when rain pours through that window. It is also the only clean water. The water they provide me is anything but clean or safe to drink.

The meals they would provide was always rotted and half eaten. I got sick the first time I ate. I didn't eat for a week after. Then I ate it anyways even if I got sick.

The only time I left this cell was for the Questioner and the punishments that I received there after. At first they asked me questions every day from daybreak to nightfall. They would ask me questions about my association with pyromancy and my teacher, they moved on to other names of pyromancers and clans I had never heard of. they still thought I had all the answers. even if my answers were true I was punished after anyways, usually by whippings, rape, stoning, or being burnt with a a hot blade.

They never took it so far that I would die. Always they punished to me to the point of fainting or the brink of death.

All of that stopped 2 weeks ago. Why? I am not certain. They stopped everything all together. No food. Only dirty water. No questions, no punishments.

Last night I awoke to screams and cries of prisoners and soldiers. I heard the clang of metal on metal, people shouting, footsteps that ran. a shriek so loud it deafened me for several minutes. then a loud roar outside that shook my surroundings so hard that I heard walls collapse and bits of stone fall.

As quick as it had started it had stopped. I tried to call out to ask what was happening but I was answered by silence and the whistle of the fall breeze outside.

Days passed, no one even brought me dirty water anymore. I lay on the rough stone ground. the cold seeping through the thin wool tunic straight into my bones. That's all I am now, bones. I stare up at the moon through that hole, the moon is full. and the cell is so cold my whole body hurts. I cannot move. I keep wishing for the dark, but I always awake to the pang of hunger and thirst. This time I can feel it...a darkness coming for me. Where I will go? Probably the depths of hell, but at least it won't be here.

I took this life for granted...I wasn't smart enough, quick enough. Worst of all. I thought I had more time. I wished to see the mountains in their glory with snowcapped peakes rising to touch the clouds. To gaze upon the greatest cities, but I was selfish and wrong.

No one will remember me. I did nothing great. No one will remember my name.

Ultonya Dryden

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