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

My hand lashes out again and clamps onto the boy's wrist. He howls as I
drag him closer to the fireplace, then thrust his hands into the coals - there is
a crackling, a hissing of burning flesh, and his screams - so terrible, yet -
"To learn, you must suffer, supplicant. You must allow yourself to be burned
by the power of that which you wield. Know its torment, and you shall know
how to use it against your enemies."
~~~~~
My vision cleared, the memory streaming away like smoke. Ignus was
hovering above me, his head cocked to one side, and an insane, blackened
grin smeared across his face... "Yesss Masssster... Ignusssss hasss NOT
forgotten your teachingsss..."
Chapter 72
My tongue dried like I had a mouth full of ash. My legs went weak, and I
trembled with the effort to keep standing in front of Ignus, sheathed in fire
and his char-black face split by a cruel grin of teeth yellowed and gray. It had
been the pricking familiarity of it all that had kept me from making an ass of
myself. If it hadn't been for that, the shock would've turned my bowels to
water and my legs to jelly, and I would've fallen to my knees before Ignus
like a supplicant... the same way I had treated him countless years ago.
Past the years and the changes that had bent and warped the two of us
beyond recognition, there was still something between the two of us, a
tension that had to be worked out.
There's a certain masochistic edge to guilt. Maybe you've felt it before...
when the sin against another is grave enough, you yearn to put a blade to
your wrists, to gouge out your eyes, as if that would absolve you of the
crime. You want to flee from his gaze, to crawl into hole and die. Guilt seeks
the shadows, which is all the worse that Ignus was made of radiant light.
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