Fire. Flames swirling higher and higher, tendrils reaching out and grasping buildings, scratching and clawing their way through the Citadel. Yellows, reds, oranges, whites, blue tips, all of these savage colours filled my vision. I spun around, trying to comprehend the destruction around me. A blood curdling scream rent the air. I sprinted blindly in the direction it came from. It sounded familiar, was it someone I knew, was it Mother or Father? I finally reached the area from which it originated. A young girl, smaller than me, was sprawled terrified on the ground. Looming over her was a fire-beast, it's gaping maw filled with jagged teeth, it's red fur matted with dried blood. I tried desperately hard not to empty the contents of my stomach at the sight. It lifted it's dreadful head and roared at the scarlet sky, fire bursting from it's mouth. The girl was sobbing now, a painful sound full of fear. I tried to move but found that I couldn't, my feet seemingly glued to the floor. Throat raw from the smoke I had inhaled, I screamed for help as loudly as I could. I screamed again and again until my voice gave out and I thought my lungs were burning from the inside. No one came. No one heard. I frantically tugged at my legs, trying to move so I could help the child who was mere seconds from death in front of me, until from behind I heard a fierce battle cry. A man swept in front of me and swiped at the beast with his sword, the steel shining in the smoky air. They began to fight, the sword's blade ringing against the fire-beast's claws. He conjured icy flames in his left hand and threw them with all his might at the beast which roared again before dying with a final strike to the neck. I had the strange feeling that I'd seen this man before. He turned then and knelt down, gathering the young girl to his chest before standing up. As she buried her tear streaked face in his shoulder he looked at me, he then held her tighter and began to run out of the burning Citadel. I awoke gasping as his name died from my lips.

My bedsheets were twisted around my legs as I attempted to get out of bed. I felt as if I was drowning in the sweat that was pouring off me. With my nightdress stuck to my frame, I tiptoed across my bedroom as I tried to reach the door. Prising it open, gently, I then snuck downstairs and into the kitchen where I got a glass and filled with water from the bucket on the table. Taking a sip and relishing in the coolness as it slid down my throat, soothing the phantom ache left over from the dream, I walked quietly into the living area. Sitting down in an old armchair by the dead fire, I relaxed into the soft upholstery taking another sip of my water. A voice came out of the darkness and startled me, almost causing me to drop my glass.

"Has a night-mare disturbed thy slumber once again Eshrae?" The velvet smooth voice asked softly. I bowed my head. Ever since I had my first dream of death, destruction and despair, he had come. When he first appeared I was terrified and refused to speak. The second time, the fear gave way to awe. Now after years, he was a comfort I sometimes feel I could not survive the nights of horror without. "My Lord Mage." I whispered. I heard his feather-light footsteps crossing the room from the corner he has appeared in. With a flick of his fingers, another chair appeared beside mine. He sat down and slowly reached forward to wipe a tear, that had trickled down my cheek unnoticed, from my face. He then leant back and looked at me waiting. We had come to an agreement, he wouldn't push for answers and I wouldn't be obliged to tell him anything. I always ended up telling him though and in return, he would help me get through the long nights by just listening and holding me as I cried into his shoulders. I trusted him. I wiped my eyes and took a shuddering breath before the entire tale of the dream spilled out of me. When I reached the end of my recountation, the overwhelming sadness and fear hit me again full force and I began to cry. His long fingers reached under my chin and lifted my face to look at him. His eyes were full of concern and worry. I immediately fell into the warm embrace he offered me, clinging to his white robes and burying my face in the fold of his cloak at his shoulder.

He stroked my hair gently and just sat there, rocking me back and forth, whispering how it was all fine into my ear. "I apologise." I said quietly once I felt I had no tears left and I had let go of him. "My actions in the moments just past were not those of a girl of near 13 aenuaiels." His eyes widened minutely and he shook his head. "No, no child, they were completely justified! I know of many senior mages under my judiscrition that would have reacted in a far worse manner had they witnessed what you have this night. It would have caused me much suprise had you not wept with feelings of hopelessness; with the account of your age included, you are even stronger." I smiled weakly, I could tell that he was being sincere and it made me feel so much better. "Many thanks Lord Mage," I whispered. He simply tucked a stray hair behind my ear and smiled. "Now," he said more jovally, "onto more important matters."

"What matters would those be Lord Mage?" I asked. I could not think of anything important that was happening soon, it was nearly Hrívéveilimé which in an old language it is referred to 'tuahahtuh tuhihemai oheff emaiararihemainutuh ahnuduh jhaoheye ihnu oiihnutuhaiar' which means that time of merriment and joy in winter. It was an important but I had a feeling that this was not what the Lord Mage was referring to. He sighed. "In 15 days, it will be the month of Tytra. As you came of the age of 13 aenuaiels 5 days ago, you will go to the temple with the others to be read." A feeling of excitement shot through me. In Lyaedias, the fair realm of Magiek, anyone who became 13 the previous year, goes to a temple where the High Lord Mage will cast an ancient spell upon them. For every child in the realm is born with a birthmark. Sometimes, these are invisible to the eye but they do exist. The spell reveals all and using these marks, the High Lord Mage will announce to the entire citadel how the person died before their rebirth and their affiliation. Until the spell is cast, no one has talents, they are all equal. That talent or affiliation is summoned forth by the enchantment and the person will pursue a career in that field. It is a much anticipated ceremony and is one almost every child looks forward to. "My Lord," I whispered tentatively. He interrupted me. "Nurone, child. I thought we agreed that you can address me by my name."

I felt the tips of my ears heat up. "Sorry my lo- Nurone." I muttered, my fingers twisting the fabric of my nightdress. He smiled warmly at me. "No harm was done." He said, "Now what was it you wished to ask Eshrae?" I opened my mouth. And closed it again, my thoughts having scattered in embarrassment. When I had remembered, Nurone waiting patiently, I spoke. "I was… I was wondering if anyone had ever… not discovered a mark?" He stared at me in surprise, his eyes widening. "I am unsure as how to answer that question." He admitted softly. "The spell used for the ceremony has been edited and revised many times over, it is quite different now to how it once was; when the spell first came into being, there were a few. That number dwindled to almost nothing over 300 aenuaiels ago here in the citadel of Tuahmuelrai. But the other regions do have a few each year." He patted my shoulder with his calloused hand. "I'm sure that there is nothing to worry about child." I nodded and stood from my chair, placing my glass on the table. He also rose and brushed off his clothes, before bidding me goodnight and dissolving into a grey mist. It always amazed me how Mages could simply disappear into thin air and travel to other places. I often wondered what it felt like. Turning, I washed up my glass and tiptoed softly back up the stairs and into my room. Sliding under my bed sheets, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.