The great house

As the sunlight filtered through the small window and slowly slid across the dirt floor, alighting on Amelia's face, she smiled and turned towards the empty pillow at her side,

"One more day comes and I'm one day closer to seeing you again, my love." At these words she lowered her feet to the cold, hard pact floor and rose from her bed. Amelia strode slowly to the heavy oak door of her bedroom and allowed her fingers to trace the carvings there, remembering when her late husband had carved them and a tear trailed down her still smiling face. She pushed the door open gently and made her way down the little hallway towards the kitchen, pausing only to open yet another door along the way. On the other side, she saw yet another bedroom with two beds one rumpled by her youngest son,  Arthur, sleeping soundly through the night.

"At least the Gods have been kind enough to bless me with one I don't have to worry about" she sighed as her eyes slid across to the other bed which was still perfectly made as though it had been vacant all night. "Alexander, however, they must have, saw fit to punish me for his father's youth." She continued on her way past to the kitchen as she continued to complain about her mischievous son. " I mean honestly that boy spends all night out doing who knows what honestly I would probably sleep better if he were out trying to sleep with every woman in the town, but instead he comes home covered in cuts and bruises with blood all over him..."

"So nice to know Mother. I suppose tonight I'll just see how many women I can bed before  sunrise." The cocky voice she knew all too well came from behind her, suddenly cutting her off in the middle of her rant and causing her to drop the pans she had retrieved.

"By the God's Alexander!", She exclaimed " When did you get there?"

"Last night, of course, Mother, I never left the house," was the simple reply he gave as a wry smilespread across his face. "Don't be mistaken, I had every intention of going out last night, but as I neared the door I was stopped by the vision of a woman and could not bring myself to leave."

"If this is true, then I should like to meet this woman from your vision. I would like to see any woman capable of taming such a wild thing as you."

"As would I Mother, but though I knew the vision was of a woman, all I could see was her eye. An eye of such a deep green that it could put the most dazzling of jewels to shame." Amelia stared at him for a moment before coming to her senses and returning to her work, preparing breakfast for the three of them, as she lit the fire for the stove, she thought deeply about what her son had just said. She knew of many who had visions like his and she knew what they meant, soon someone would be coming for him, someone would mark him and take him to the House of Flames. As she thought of her son's fate and placed bacon in the pan before her, he began coughing so violently she could not deny it, soon the Tracer would come for him and deliver his fate. She glanced over her shoulder at him as the coughing ended, and smiled weakly.

"Are you OK son?" This was all she could say, she didn't have the heart to tell him he was dying. She couldn't bear the thought of telling him that only the House of Flames could save him and even that wasn't a certainty.

"I'm fine Mother, it's just a cough. There is absolutely nothing to fear, just as always." She gave another weak smile while she continued breakfast.

"Good morning Mother, and Zander?" The words came from the kitchen door and as the pair turned they could see a disheveled Arthur standing just inside the door still in his sleeping clothes, confusion evident on his face. "I didn't expect to see you at the house this early," he said sleep still edging its way into his voice.

"Well, I can't let you be the good son all the time," Alexander smirked aging before dissolving into yet another coughing fit.

"Sounds like the pollen is getting to you this year," Arthur laughed.

"No, just a stubborn cough." Alexander looked to his mother, who had just finished cooking their breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast and said, "It smells amazing, Mother, I wish I had been home more often now so I could have enjoyed more meals prepared by you." As Amelia looked at her son she swore she could see sorrow in his eyes. She swore that he knew what was happening to him. Was he trying to spare them the pain of facing his fate? They ate in silence that morning, none of them were used to the circumstances they found themselves in that day. None of them wanted to speak and break the illusion they all swore they now faced. After breakfast, Alexander and Arthur got dressed for the day and left for their jobs, Alexander at the black smith's shop and Arthur and the local apothecary. The two boys had gotten jobs after their father had passed so as to ease the burden of their mother, and had grown to enjoy what they did. Alexander stepped inside the forge and was immediately greeted by the sweltering heat and clanging of the hammer.

"You made it on time today, boy, I'm impressed," Jerald yelled without looking up from his work.

"How do you do that? Every day you know exactly who I am and when I get here without looking to be sure you're right."

"It's simple boy, I say the same thing until I get it right."

"That's a lie, but I'm going to let it slide just this once," Alexander laughed as he put on his apron and grabbed his hammer. The two of them continued on in silence, the ringing of their hammers against steel echoing out as clearly as a symphony composed by the royal musicians. The pair had no use for long conversations here only work was necessary.

"Time to stop, boy, we have to eat, then we can work the shop for the rest of the day," Jerald said as he set his hammer down and inspected the blade he had been working on.

"Fine if that's what you want to do," Alexander replied, setting his own hammer down and looking at the chest plate before him. He stood up and walked towards the door but was suddenly grabbed by the hand. Looking down, he saw a bright red mark on the hand that held his own, a mark that twisted like dancing fire upon the stranger's skin. His eyes widened as they moved up the arm of this man resting only when they found to bloodshot eyes staring deeply at him from under the dark red hood of the man's  cloak. 

"The Flames call to you, young one, they breathe your name. Come now and ascend to the sky where you truly belong. The House of Flames beckons and you must heed its call." The man's voice was as course, as weathered leather and at the same time, as fine as silk. Alexander could feel the burning in his palm as the words washed  over him, he knew what this man was and what he was doing there. As the burning faded from his hand, the man let go and Alexander looked at his palm to see the mark that was there. The silver flame emblazoned on his flesh was unmistakable, he had been selected by the House of Flames and now he must go there if he wanted any chance of survival. As he stood there staring at the mark on his hand, the Tracer vanished once more. All Alexander could think was how he was now being taken from his family. How could they survive without him? His mother had been through so much already and now she would have to watch as he left with no guarantee that he would ever return. If he didn't go, then he would continue to get sicker until his life was forfeit in about a week's time. He couldn't put her through that. He couldn't make her watch him wither away to nothing, but even if he went, his body might not be able to withstand the magic as it began coursing through him and give out, ending his life anyway. He turned to Jerald and saw the shock and the older man's face. As he looked on, the shock slowly morphed, becoming a combination of disgust and hatred. This man who had been a father to him since his true father had passed away now looked at him as though he was no more than another monster to be slayed, just another goblin that wandered into town.