An Axe in the Flames

Lucan

Nine years after the Battle of Dry Lake

Lucan sat in front of the strangely built prison cell. Separated from the other cells and built of heavy metals with no bars on the front, just a solid front with a solitary hole large enough to slide a tray of food. He sighed to himself, the sound seeming to echo and bounce off of the dimly lit corridor of cells. From somewhere down the hall a repetitive drip could be heard. These cells were dank places, built deep under the Salt Desert fortress the Flame Sect had erected and used as their new home.

Clad in a red robe with gold trim and white fur around the collar, Lucan looked every bit the High King that he was. His hair had grown out from his younger days but he kept his face clean of stubble. The wooden chair groaned as he shifted positions and cleared his throat. He peered through the hole with his faintly glowing red eyes, as a slight tremor ran through his body like prickles of red hot needles probing into his every inch of skin. "I know you're scared my pet." His voice shaking with his internal pain.

There was no response as there never was, just a soft shuffling that seemed to say the prisoner was backed as far away and into a corner as could be. At least, that's what Lucan's mind saw. Another spasm of burning agony gripped him again, his muscles contracting and twisting his face. He grabbed on to the edges of his chair and sucked in breath. The tremors were worse this time and he audibly groaned, "Ohh, the bonding never gets easier." He said in a whispered growl.

The shuffling was barely heard again, but this time it seemed it was closer to the hole. Lucan gained control of himself again, and straightened his robe. He turned and spat, a smoldering ball of phlegm hit the hard dirt floor with a wet smack. Tendrils of smoke were rising from it, Lucan stared at it a moment in wonder and grunted, "That's new."

He ran a hand over his face, trying to compose himself. He was hot all over and sweating profusely, beginnings of sweat were working their way into the fabrics of his robe and he reached down and undid his robe cord, it quickly opened and cool, dank air assaulted his skin. It felt good though, washing over him in a cooling wave. Like quenching the flames of a forge fire, steam was rising from his skin. This all was a new sensation to him, the body heat and insistent tremors. So far, he had consumed the brains of five children and each time he felt his body changing in beautiful and marvelous ways. His magic was easier to call forth and his power was unbound. If he wasn't already, he would soon become the greatest wielder of magic in all the world of Vale.

He gave a sigh of relief as the body heat he was holding seemed to dissipate slightly. This fifth brain and transferring of power had taken its toll on him and his body. He had noticed red veins on his skin the night before, the way he produced steam in the rain, and his eyes...Gods his eyes looked powerful. They glowed a deep red and he could see differently, as if he could sense the heat of things through his eyes. "My pet, you will show me all of your wonderful magics." He said in a harsh whisper.

There was more shuffling in the cell and a small voice came, "pela."

That's all she ever said, Lucan couldn't understand it. She was caught about two months ago, wandering the shade tree forest and alone. His scouts had made a mess of capturing her, three deaths in total. To a little girl none the less. She was young, maybe five or six years of age but she was a beautiful weapon. The scouts had tried to explain how she caught them by surprise, ambushed them. Lucan had laughed at the recount but then he had met her and saw the look of a cornered predator. Oh, how she was dangerous. Without his top scholar, Eldon, he had resumed the studies of magic. After her capture which required a metal blinder, thick netting and knocking her unconscious, he had poured through all of the former scholar's books for what kind of beast he had fell upon.