Embers

Chapter Six

Franklin wasn't conscious to know enough or comprehend what was happening to him. He felt as though he was floating in the air, but there wasn't anything wrong with floating. Is there? How could he do that when he wasn’t attempting to fly? He questioned himself critically. The air felt colder than usual, and it seemed the candles must have been out for some time. Everything around him felt dewy and somewhat chilly, but why was he not seeing anything?

His eyes were closed, he noticed only now. His mouth felt heavier to open and work to say words. He only crowded his mind with thoughts about his surroundings. Opening them, greeting him silently, was matte darkness all around him, too. This time, it had few dim lights to see he was in a void, halo darkness, and it felt familiar to him. He was feeling uneasy. Suddenly, he saw a swift blurry movement in his left corner. In a blink, the blackness swirled all around him. He reached out to touch it, but it moved away with a hissing sound, manipulating a snake. He wondered what it was, but was too scared to touch it again. His breathing echoed and even though he was freezing to his bones, his breath remained invisible.

Still hovering over in midair, he felt a flickering at the shoulder, and he quickly turned, hoping that it won’t be an intruder. The place felt stifling and Franklin quickly tried looking for a way out of the void pit.

With a mind tormented by confusing and bickering thoughts, he wished his voice came back, “is anyone here? If you are, come out where I can see you.”

Miraculously, as he wished, his throat felt pressured, and he called out the first thing that flickered through his mind.

“I am,” said a tiny voice. It felt like a child's voice, though the voice held contempt and was too hoarse to be such a small child. Appeared out of the darkness was a little boy, thin and pale as a ghost. He had deep black eyes and hollow cheekbones. He looked tortured.

“Who are you?” Franklin asked, looking down at a boy who looked six years old.

“My name is Franklin.” He told the boy but refused to touch him.

“Mine too!” The little boy cried excitedly in his hoarse tone.

“What are you doing here? What's wrong with you?” Franklin asked, kneeling to look at the boy. The boy looked quite like himself when he was younger. The thing is, why does he look deathly pale?

“The result of poor decision-making. I am born out of greed and innocence combined to form the ultimate mistake,” the boy whispered maniacally. 

“What does that mean?” Franklin asked as his eyes got wider upon hearing the little boy's revelations.

Suddenly, the little boy’s eyes started bleeding, and he began coiling around like he was having a seizure. The panic that Franklin felt pushed him back, as someone would have. He crawled away on his hands, backing further away from the boy in a frenzy.

Another flickering at his shoulder made him nearly jump out of his skin again. Getting close to the flickering, he fell in at a short distance into the light. This seemed like a memory. He saw a young boy with his back to him. He wasn’t able to touch him, though. It was as though he was in a bubble. Franklin looked on as the boy mumbled something.

“Hello, my name is Franklin,” the boy said, petting something in his hand.

For a moment, Franklin thought this was another mind trick. Even though he felt acknowledged at first, Franklin realized how wrong he was after the boy's following statement.

“You are not supposed to just die after serving your purpose. Someone can bring you back to life, even when you can't do it yourself. Wish hard enough.”

The memory showed the urgency and desperation to keep a dying leaf alive. Franklin hadn't understood when the leaf said that he was replaceable, and not even feeling better when the leaf told him softly he was going to rest.

Franklin remembered this instantly. It was the moment things changed for him. Prentice noticed it too, and so their extensive book training began.

In his authoritative voice, Prentice boomed, “Franklin, join me in the library. We have other training to do from now on.”

Instead of spending the most time on the field, Prentice made him study books with hand gestures and spells, fighting stances, and a book on kindness. It wasn't very pleasant to memorize each hand movement, but he got the knack for it when he practiced as he read. He found it easier with his own hands doing the work and showing slow progress. If he was lucky, the force in his hand would turn the page of the book, but that was a rare occasion.

He objected to reading about kindness, which he claimed he already knew about, and argued how unlike he was with his brothers, and won't ever be, but Prentice grimaced and narrowed his eyes threateningly at him.

“What is the first thing someone should know about being kind or having a quality of kindness?” Prentice pitched at him quickly.

“They should have a good heart?” He said, shrugging with his feeble answer. He wasn't sure, but would not admit it. 

He took a bated breath, and for a moment, the memory became fuzzy as Franklin watched helplessly from the outside. 

“Does everyone have a good heart?”

“I believe so. For now, I shall read the book,” Franklin said, bowing his head to look at the words.

“Do you believe your brothers have a good heart?”

Franklin stiffened and gripped the book cover harder, thinking of the things his brothers would do to him, and sighed.

“Yes, I do. They do what they think is correct. Somehow, I feel I am only making excuses for them.”

“Do you have a good heart to put someone else's happiness before yours?” prentice circled him slowly, his robe trailing behind him with slow drags.

“Yes, I do,” Franklin replied confidently now. He stopped looking at the book and watched intently at what Prentice was doing.

“What if I refuse and tell you I don't believe you?” 

Franklin's eyes snapped up to his teacher with indignation and fury. This was a little hurtful for the one man he looked up to in his life to be telling him such a disdainful thing.

“How can you say that? You know me very well. How could I not be kind?” Franklin practically yelled out with frustration and fending for himself to keep his image in his teacher's eyes.

“Do you remember how angry you get? You attacked a man on the battlefield.” 

Prentice coolly picked up a giant book, then he dropped his hands, but the book didn't drop. Instead, it floated as Prentice went along, casually tormenting Franklin.

“I apologized. I lost control, and I didn't mean to do it. Frustration was too much.”

“Your influence will show how kind and ruthless you can be. You cannot control that either.”

Prentice repeated a phrase Franklin was sure he found in a book while doing his midnight reading, but hadn't brought to light.

He said, “with knowledge comes responsibilities, and if you're willing to stand up for what’s right in the world, then you must not forget where you come from, and what is required for you to do.”

It was the reason he was studying what kindness means to the world. Franklin did not believe him when he said that otherworldly beings exist in the world. He didn’t want to, because accepting something so small would mean giving up his simple way of thinking to think complicated as they go along. He didn't think it was helpful to him.

He shook off the perilous memory. Looking back at the memory, bright and untouched from the darkness that circled it, Franklin watched on closely now.

It was the moment he had done something unknowingly miraculous, for every time he breathed on the leaf to whisper, he noticed the leaf became brighter, and its green pigment returned with intensity.

“You have such bright light, Franklin,” said the living leaf in the boy’s hand.

“I am not bright. It is only because the place is sunny. It is daytime.”

The leaf laughed and said, “all in good time Master Franklin. I am glad I finally got to meet you.”

“Do you have a name?” Franklin looked on from outside the memory with interest. He continued watching, unaware the inky blackness was creeping around at his feet, not touching, just lingering.

“No, I don’t. Leaves don’t have names.”

“You’re a living leaf. How could you not have a name?” Young Franklin exclaimed with a little frustration. He thought everything could be explained and that he could make everyone comfortable, even happy.

“Why don’t you give one to me?” The leaf said, jumping with excitement. 

“I think I will call you Sunny. You like the light.”

“I like that name, Franklin.”

“Franklin, what are you doing?” said a younger Prentice. He was towering over Franklin so far that it hurt his neck to look too long.

“Look, Prentice. I was holding a leaf, and it talked to me. I call him Sunny.”

“I see. Hello, Sunny.” 

Disappointed, the leaf flew up to Prentice, and they talked about something he couldn’t quite understand. Prentice looked at the younger Franklin and he frowned. Prentice took the leaf and gently blew on it, and it flew away gently, going back over the wall.

“Why did you do that? Have I done something bad?”

“No, Franklin. You have done nothing bad. You need to learn to use your magic. You have a gift that people would envy.”

From that day on, my lessons never ended, they only increased. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the looming blackness, and its watery flow made me edgy. I broke off in a run, chasing it away with a battle cry, and it scurried off. 

Getting closer and closer to it and feeling excited, my subconscious begged for me to return, with a full force that hauled me back and catapulted me back into consciousness, surprised to open my eyes to see a fuming face.