The young boy�s senses had flung him from his dreams the moment they became aware of the flicker of flame in the doorway, and smelt the choking sensation of the smoke rapidly forming around his tiny form. The bedroom that he usually found so soothingly tranquil had quickly become so densely aired that he could see very little of the magical artefacts on his walls save for the radiant Globe of Favoured Memories that his grandmother had given him on his last birthday. His favourite moments glimmered out at the child through the smoke from his dresser on the other side of the room. Tears sprang to the boy�s eyes as the smoke began to seep into the corners of them, the thick gas filling his lungs and making him want to gag. It didn�t take long before the child instinctively flung himself to the carpet to avoid the smoke�s garrotting effects, his long red hair falling down over his face. Staring through the thick strands, he could see the fire still, burning intensely through the cloud of haze. He could see the oranges and the reds playing tag with one another in the flicker of the flame, and the beautiful blue at the centre, crawling along the carpet from the doorway. The boy lay unmoving on the colourful flooring he had once helped his father to lay down, staring bleary eyed at the dazzling blaze before him. He could feel the heat on his body, and knew that in moments it would be taking the skin from his bones and roasting him raw. He was perfectly aware of the fire's destructive effects, for he had often played with fire when he knew his parents would not catch him�

Only when the inferno devoured the young boy�s bed did he finally move. Flinching almost across the room, he curled himself up into a ball against the furthest wall from his doorway, legs tucked up close to his chin. His entire body quaked with unveiled fear. He wanted to cry out in pain; to scream to his mother or to his father, but he couldn�t find the will, his lungs ached so painfully and his throat was so sore. Still the intricate crisscross of colours burnt towards him. In that moment the child wondered where his parents were, why they were not bounding to his rescue as they often did, or whether they had already unwillingly succumb to the flames. This thought only added to the trauma though. The horrific idea of losing his parents was too much for the child to handle, and he quickly tried to push it to the back of his mind.

The elf boy flung himself out of the open window without even realizing himself doing it, and his tiny, frail body crashed along the foyer roof. The slate tiles ripped his ice blue pyjamas to nothing more than shredded cloth, tearing at his skin so that the fabric stained and stuck to his burned flesh. His body hit the grass at the base of the foyer and through momentum it rolled several feet from the house. A moment had passed before the tearful child regained the breath that had been winded from him. He was able to clamber shakily to his feet, but staggered backwards and tripped back to the ground. A few sobs escaped his dry lips, and the young child found himself staring up at the building: awestruck. Flame licked from the top of the house he had spent the entire of his short life within. The magnificent fire was dominant over the materials and magic that had held this building strong for centuries, crisping the slate and the brick and the wood. The blaze was reducing everything it touched to smouldering ash and smoke. Despite the agonising burns that already covered the young elf�s body from his shoulders to his toes, he could not help but to stare at the marvel of the house falling apart before him. The horror of the possibility of living a life without the parents who meant so much to him was heavy on his mind as he stared. And yet for a moment he could have sworn against all his senses that he had seen a smile within the flame, burning eyes of yellow staring down on him and a smirk rising up from within the inferno.

The roof gave in at last; allowing the blaze to take it to the ground and with it went most of the three-floor building. The child gave a horrified wail, his voice falling into the noise as though it had not even left his lips. He called out to his mother but she was gone. He called out to his father but he too was no longer there to hear his cries. Without hope the boy sat on the grass, his legs curled painfully beneath him, and screamed out for somebody to take from him the sense of loneliness overwhelming him. No reply came, and he was left unaccompanied but for the bright and burning blaze before his unworldly hazel eyes.