"Dad!"
Byrne, who was concentrating on controlling the flames on the lawn, suddenly heard his son's voice beside his ear.
The seven-year-old chubby Darren came running over, pitter-pattering, with his servant jogging behind him.
Chubby Darren chuckled and reached out his hand, eager to touch the flames that Byrne had created and that floated in the air, his plump face full of curiosity.
Byrne manipulated the flames away from his son's hand and immediately warned, "Don't touch them, fire can hurt you."
Chubby Darren looked puzzled and, still looking displeased, lowered his hand, asking in wonderment, "Aren't those flames controlled by you, Dad? Can they still hurt me?"
Byrne nodded and explained, "Of course, they are weapons."
"And the purpose of weapons is to harm people; anyone who approaches them carelessly will get injured."
Darren nodded, his young mind still unfettered; he suddenly asked another question.
