grounded ashes

prologue

Paintbrush stood in a field outside the hotel before a pile of wood taller than they were. They wanted to see how much they could do, and they didn't consult Test Tube before this like they probably should have. Everyone else was asleep.

Maybe they thought they could do it and would be able to show off what they could do. Maybe they felt they didn't need to be watched, when in reality, they did.

Paintbrush took a deep breath and grabbed two branches that were jutting out of the pile, focusing on the fire in their soul. Slowly, their body temperature began to rise.

Once they began to feel dizzy from the heat, they focused harder and sent it all to their hands, thus catching every twig in that pile on fire in a very fast chain reaction.

They let go and staggered back a little, looking up at the flames, glowing orange claws that set fire to the midnight sky with a weak grin. They did it. The pile was aflame, and they were the cause.

Paintbrush coughed, bringing their hand up to their mouth, where a wisp of smoke escaped through their fingers. Their vision, distorted and blurred, quickly darkened until they couldn't see anything at all.

They landed on the ground unconscious and with smoke trailing from their mouth, a dull thump on the ground that nobody heard being the only thing that indicated their presence. They wouldn't be found until the next day.