Three moons to the day, said Sir Bearach. Gods, let there not be one more.

Fionn ignored the dead knight’s words, just as he had during all those hours of revising and reciting. The task that Conleth had set for the young Pyromancer had been near impossible, and it had taken every ounce of Fionn’s determination to see it through to the end.

And every minute of my time, whispered Sir Bearach.

Fionn scanned the blackboard once more. Rionach’s Theorems came first, all twelve scrawled with the smallest writing Fionn could manage. Next came the Three Laws of Thermal Equilibrium, expressed from first principles just as the Firemaster had demanded. Those had been more challenging, and Fionn still wasn’t sure if he had gotten it completely right.

Maybe I’ll start it again, he thought, reaching for the stick of chalk once more. This final clause seems a bit off—

Gods above and below, swore Sir Bearach. Just call him out to start the exam already. Being trapped in you is far worse when you’re trapped in this room!

It was true: Fionn had rarely stepped outside the grimy old kitchen since his studying began. With food and drink delivered to the tenement house daily by Earthmaster Seán, Fionn had little reason to leave.

Perhaps you’re right¸ he replied. I’ve always been one to overthink exams before sitting them….

“Conleth!” he called over his shoulder toward the hallways. “I’m ready to start whenever you are!”

Fionn waited in silence, anticipating the familiar rustle from Conleth’s bedroom that came whenever the old Firemaster awoke. Experience had taught Fionn that it was best to simply wait for Conleth to arrive, no matter how long it took.

But the faint sounds of movement did not come as Fionn expected. A loud thud answered the call instead, followed by a slow, repeated noise, like clothes being dragged across carpet.

“Conleth?” asked Fionn, taking a step forward. “Is everything all right?”

No voice answered, just the same sounds as before: one muffled movement following another, and another. Gradually, they grew louder, until Fionn was sure Conleth was just beyond the kitchen door.

“Are you there?” called Fionn. “Is something the matter with—”

The door swung open, revealing the old Firemaster. Fionn immediately averted his eyes, for Conleth’s grey robes were discarded on the ground, caught amongst his feet. Pale, leathery skin hung from every crooked bone of his body, with blotchy dark spots spread across a swollen stomach. Thin, frail arms held up his frame. He leaned against the opened door.

“Chaos!” shrieked Conleth, his already shrill voice an octave higher than usual. “Disorder has been sewn once more by those who… who….”

“Conleth?” whimpered Fionn, still not quite sure where to look. “What’s wrong?”

The Firemaster’s bulging eyes locked onto Fionn, then his head lolled to the side, and his bottom lip quivered.

“Animals!” he cried. “No different than animals! For I have seen the Truth as He has intended it to be!”

He’s gone mad, whispered Sir Bearach. He needs a healer, or a Druid. Or both.

“Calm down, Conleth,” said Fionn, raising both arms in a stance of submission. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll find someone to—”

The old mage gasped suddenly and pointed a finger at Fionn.

“You should not be here!” he roared. “You were never supposed to make it! A fate worse than death was meant for you, for you, for you….”

His voice trailed off, and a shiver ran through his body.

“The disorder…” he whispered. “The disorder is worse than He could have known. Worse than He can stand. Worse than….”

He cocked his head to the side, as if he suddenly heard something nearby.

“No…” he said. “This one is not like the others. This one… this one….”

“Conleth, please,” said Fionn. “You need help. Come with me, we’ll make you better, I’ll find you a healer.”

“No!” roared Conleth. He raised his hand and clicked his flint-rings together with a flourish. A ball of fire filled his hands. “This one cannot live untouched by fate! He is far too important to be free!”

A dozen streams of fire shot towards Fionn. He held up his own hands in defence, igniting the fire in his heart, summoning his own power. Rionach’s Theorems, the Laws of Thermal Equilibrium, every equation, every figure, every number faded from Fionn’s mind as the heat intensified around him.

Hold it back! roared Sir Bearach. Push it, lad, push it!

Fionn flared the power in his heart, taking a step back to bring both hands over his head. The tongues of the fire tumbled inwards, spitting forth embers. Fionn narrowly avoided them, stepping to the side as he forced Conleth’s fires away. Wood crackled and burned behind him, but Fionn did not turn to see what work had been destroyed.

Conleth stood up right now, taller than he had ever been before. His hands ignited once more.

“Oh, His eyes! His eyes! They bored through my being, melting my soul until there was nothing left but pain!”

The fires roared again, tearing towards Fionn like lightning bolts. He braced himself once more, calling upon the power of his soul to hold them back, but that was already starting to wane. When the fires collided with Fionn’s power, the young mage was almost knocked from his feet.

You can’t fight his fire with your own! said Sir Bearach. You must flee. It’s our only chance.

Perhaps…. He quickly shifted his weight to the side, sending the fire soaring towards a stack of papers against the kitchen wall.

Fionn’s whole body convulsed with exhaustion, each breath a strain. Beads of sweat poured down his face, rolling into his eyes and blurring his vision. But Conleth seemed unburdened, though there was no longer fire in his hands.

“He has shown me too much!” he cried, covering his eyes. “His voice, Lord! I can’t comprehend His words, but they hurt. Oh, they hurt!”

There was no need for flint-rings, for the wood and papers of the kitchen burned all around the two Pyromancers. Fionn ignited the power of his soul, barely an ember left.

I need rest, he thought, furiously trying to flare it further. I can’t hold him off any longer.

Fortunately, Conleth seemed unconcerned with the fires now. He walked slowly toward Fionn, his naked body glistening under the heat.

“This city… this city of Penance is a cancer upon the Tapestry of Fate. Every day it sows seeds of chaos, and they threaten to unravel the threads that hold this world together.”

Fionn reached within once more, but the fire inside was too weak to even grasp at a flame. He shut his eyes tight, groping through his soul, searching for something he had found before, something he had failed to understand….

And there! The second spark. The power in his heart that had never been touched. He reached for it, kindling it with his soul.

What are you doing? asked Sir Bearach. That feels... strange.

You can feel that?Do you know what this is?

The answer immediately came to Fionn before the knight could respond, but there was little time to explain. The old mage raised his hands above his head, and the heat around them intensified. He looked right at Fionn, with those eyes, wide open with fright.

“You have no idea, do you?” asked Conleth, saliva foaming at the corner of his mouth. “You have no idea what you are….”

The Firemaster threw his hands down, and the flames of the room surrounded Fionn. At the same instant, Fionn flared the spark of Sir Bearach’s soul, and blended that power with his own.