A weapon? Zephren kept his thoughts silent as he watched his father bend to pick up the letter opener from the floor. In the hands of his father, suddenly it was no longer just a threat. He was going to hurt him, or worse…maybe this time he really would kill Zephren before he’d even made it out the door.

Zephren’s father continued speaking, his voice low and baleful as he said, “I made sure no one else would have your power but me. I kept you locked away, waiting for the opportune moment. The moment you’d show the world the power you truly possess. I waited for years and years, always thinking just a few more months… Perhaps when you’re older…” The man looked the blade over with an arrogant expression, tossing it lightly into the air before snatching it up again. He smiled at Zephren, almost sweetly, though his narrowed eyes were sharp. “But, as it turns out…there’s nothing in you but weakness.”

His father lunged forward, brandishing the opener. Zephren’s stomach dropped in terror but before his father had the chance to strike and land the blow, Zephren propelled himself forward. He rammed into his father’s knees, causing him to fall backwards onto the ground. His father dropped the letter opener with a soft thud onto the carpet, and Zeph didn’t hesitate to grab it.

Without a moment of hesitation, Zephren clutched the letter opener with his good hand and let his voice rip from him as he stabbed it through the man’s shoulder. He pushed down with all his strength in a hope it would dislocate his father’s arm. The man screamed out in anger and pain, reaching to yank the openerout of his flesh but Zephren pressed it down harder.

With a grunt he left it there; he needed his hand to hold his useless arm tightly to his body as he ran…and oh did he run. Zephren sprinted out of the room, not looking back. He raced down the corridor, panic filling him as he realized he was a stranger in his own home. He had no idea which way to turn or even where the front door was, only that it was a floor below him.

He needed to find the staircase.

Rushing down the hallway, he was beginning to wonder if his father was close behind…and then there was a sonic boom.

Before he had any idea what was going on, the blast knocked him sideways into the wall, the hall windows shattering inward as shards of glass rained down over him. The blast deafened Zephren to the point where all he could hear was a faint ringing, heat scorching his skin. Thick smoke made it nearly impossible to breathe, clogging his nose with the scent of ash and his mouth was bitter with the taste of it.

Groaning, Zephren struggled to regain his bearings, pushing himself up with his one good arm. He looked towards the window to see what had happened, blinking away his blurred vision as things became clearer. The entire wall of the hallway was missing, large chunks of the house scattered outside as the world blazed with red flames. The disorienting ringing was the only sound as he dragged his body across the floor raked with glass, feeling it slice through his rags and flesh…but he was desperate to escape the house, and this was the quickest way.

Zephren looked down over the ragged stone edge of the second floor, the splintered wood of the floorboards jutting out in dangerous spikes. He looked at the ground, disoriented as he tried to calculate the drop, wondering if he would survive… If his father would find him, or if he’d been caught up in the blast too.

It didn’t matter how far away the ground was, he had to get outside.

He had to get out of the house and away from everything that had made him a prisoner.

Zephren exhaled, bracing himself as he rolled off the edge of the house and fell a whole story down into the dirt and debris. He couldn’t breathe as he landed on his back, feeling something slice into his side with a painful stab. Sound slowly returned to his ears, only now it was deafened by the loud bursts and pops of crackling fire.

A heavy throb filled his broken arm, but it was nothing compared to the tight agony of his side. He reached down with his good hand to feel a long metal pole jutting out of his abdomen, his hands slick with hot blood. Taking deep breaths, Zephren raised his knees, leveling his bare feet with the ground. His breathing became quick and shallow as his mind went into panic, but he had no time to succumb to the shock and horror, he had to think fast. With his uninjured hand, he tightly grabbed the pole that was attached to a large slab of wall below him, skewering him like an insect.

If I move, I’ll probably bleed out… Zeph had to keep his thoughts logical as he weighed his odds. If I stay here, I’ll burn to death…or still bleed out, only slower.

The answer was clear.

With focused breaths, Zephren counted down from three in his head, not giving himself anymore time to think. He pushed up with his feet, pulling his body halfway up the pole as he raised himself off the ground. Zephren screamed, looking at the rust flaking onto his skin, whimpering under his breath. There were tears in his eyes, the pain searing as he told himself, One more time. You can do it.

He angled his body and pulled once more to a standing position, the pole tearing through his flesh as he yanked himself off and found his release. He clutched his side tightly, feeling the blood pool between his fingers in a rush of wet heat. Looking around frantically, Zeph tried to find something to cauterize the wound, already feeling weak and disoriented.

He surprised even himself that he could walk, though he was limping, trying to avoid the large pieces of the broken house and debris that were charring in the flames and melting from the heat. He felt the fatigue drain him, suddenly exhausted, though it didn’t seem like he had gotten very far from where he’d fallen.

Adrenaline filled Zephren’s veins, realizing it was the blood loss.

He had maybe minutes before he bled out.

In the fire he saw a small white chunk of metal, blazing hot and distorted with waves of heat. There wasn’t a thought in his mind to stop him from reaching into the flames, grabbing it, and pressing it to his wounds. For a moment it felt cold in his hand and on his skin, but it was only a few painless seconds before the burning started. He dropped whatever the piece of metal was that he’d been holding, shaking and sinking to his knees as he felt his skin blister and peel away.

Pain washed over him in sharp pangs, his whole body crumpling as tears ran down his cheeks and washed away streaks of ash and grime. The outside of the wound had stopped bleeding, but what about inside him?

You’re not going to make it… he thought bitterly, a sob choking him and making him jolt with the sharp sense of agony.

All of this—this miraculous chance at freedom, finally escaping that room, escaping his father, surviving a bomb—was to end with him bleeding out in the burning city that he never even knew the name of...a few feet from where he’d started. Everything seemed distant to Zephren, his blood, his skin, his pain… Suddenly nothing belonged to him anymore. He was already a ghost, a corpse.

There were no tears left to cry as he looked around what could only be hell. This was the first time in his life that Zephren had ever been outside. Where would he have gone? He was barely alive, barely hanging on…

Was his father alive? His sister?

Zephren was dizzy as he imagined footsteps in the roar of flames and arms close around him tightly from behind. There was a muffled shout of words that he couldn’t quite make out, thinking maybe it was his name. He wondered for a moment if his father had finally caught up to him, and maybe his death would be quick…

As Zephren’s vision blurred, his consciousness fading fast, he watched as his body burst into luminescent white flames, delicate swirls of sweet smoke unfurling around him. Without time to question it, the world tipped sideways into an eerie silence…

And then everything went black with the sound of his last breath.