(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

~~~~~
The crackling of Ignus' flames subsided, lessening as the charred bones of
Ignus' body folded up, twisting into itself until his limbs lay motionless,
becoming a stack of wood within a huge iron fireplace...
I stare into a fire, the bright warmth flickering only in my eyes. The room is
still cold... the fire is too small to heat the high, vaulted room. The fire
crackles and spits embers onto the stone floor, motes rising from the
fireplace. Faintly, from the darkness behind me, there is the rasp of someone
breathing.
I gesture impatiently, "I can hear you... step into the light."
There is the shuffling of sandals, and a frail youth steps into the edges of the
firelight. His wide, black eyes catch the flames and mirror them. He is
nervous - I hear his muscles shaking, his voice trembling - just enough to
increase my irritation. "Forgive my intrusion, master. I-"
"You have already intruded, supplicant. You did so with intention. I will hear
it now, then you will leave me to my thoughts."
The boy takes a deep breath, and glances at the fire. "Master, I... dreamed of
flames again, last night... they felt real, and you said that we were to come
to you if --"
"It was a dream, nothing more. Now leave." I wave my hand dismissively.
Supplicants are fit only to mop floors and wash beakers. There is no reason
for him to interrupt my thoughts now.
The boy does not move - his brows draw together, and slowly, he displays his
hands. The flesh around the fingers... blackened, burned.
A muscle in my cheek twitches, "How did your hands come to be burned,
supplicant?"
"I awoke and my hands were as ash." The boy meets my gaze; he is still
trembling, faintly, but there is an eagerness in his voice which angers me. "I
dreamed I soared above the earth and the ground and sky were as fire. The
world itself was so bright that it... hurt to look at it, master. And when I
awoke, my hands... they were burned, as if I had held a flame within my
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