The minimum heat required to burn the human tissue is forty-four degrees Celsius for four to six hours...at sixty-five degrees Celsius it only takes two seconds. Two seconds of applied heat, or chemicals, to the human external or internal surface will create a burn that destroys part of that human forever. Flames though are greedy and they never stop just there.

The fire eats at the thin outer layers of the skin, the bits fry and flake off. After about five minutes of cooking, the thicker dermal layer of skin begins to shrink and split open to leak out yellow fatty juices. The fat sizzles as it acts as a fuel source to further the destruction of itself. The fat is the wax of a candle, and as long as there is something to act as the wick, (for example that old ratty jacket the owner loved so much), the body can keeps its own fire burning for about 7 hours.

Not that the heat was the only way to succumb to the anger of the fire, most people actually died in their sleep by smoke inhalation causing a lack of oxygen. Most people may consider that a blessing.

Fire is the theorized thing that is integral in the evolution of humanity. I suppose it was only fair then that human bodies were so good at keeping it light.

The aroma of burning wood had always been his favorite smell. He loved the way it sunk into his clothes and hair, the rich pine scent clinging him for at least a day. Nothing was quite like sitting around a fire with friends and watching the dancing of the flames.

Michael whistled as they walked home, he hands behind his head. Leon glanced at him.

"Do you ever not make noise?"

A shrug and signature grin flashed, barely interrupting the tune. It was the song a friend had been playing around the campfire that night. He wished he could remember the words.

Leon ran a hand through his shaggy white hair. His face was neutral, but Michael could see in his eyes the hints of nerves. "Mom is going to be so mad we snuck out."

"Only if she finds out Princeling." Michael paused. However, Leon didn't reply to the teasing of the old family joke, the Prince to Michael's Terror. "Come on, lighten up. Despite what mom says, she can't read minds. A quick climb up into the old tree forte and jump to the roof is all it takes for us to be home free."

"Whatever you say, I still can't believe I let you talk me into it."

"Me neither, I thought you were supposed to be the brains." Michael chuckled. "Though I suppose you weren't thinking with your brain when you said yes." He nudged Leon lightly in the ribs. "I saw your eyes glued to that cutie that plays the violin in the orchestra."

Leon eyes widened slightly, a faintest dusting of blush on his cheeks. It was practically a neon sign from his cool headed brother. Oh, he was never going to live this down.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

A fall breeze skittered leaves and carried the lingering smoke of the fire their way. Michael closed his eyes breathing in deeply.

"Well, then this is awkward." Michael opened his eyes, turning to meet a near perfect image of his reflection in both Leon's eyes and Leon himself, his twin brother. The only obvious different between their appearance really was their hair, one white and the other red. "I guess that poor girl is going to get stood up then."

Leon froze on the sidewalk. A chilling aura coming off him, Michael paused a couple paces ahead of him, as though he hadn't caught on immediately. Really he was slightly wary of his brother. It wasn't often Leon got worked up, but when he did, while hell hath no fury like the prince of ice.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing really. Just told her you were too shy to ask her out yourself and, you know, nudged things in the right direction."

"You what?"

Leaves crunched loudly as he dropped to rest on his knees. Michael laced his fingers together and dropped his head to stare at the ground. He wasn't stupid, even if part of him was itching to take on his brother, and understood he was toeing a line that once crossed would lead to a fight he would most certainly lose. Leon was the one who had actually Martial Arts training. He was a second degree black belt at only sixteen. A honed and honorable fighter that never truly let loose, even in a match, Leon was a force to be reckoned with. That and it's not like he enjoyed and wanted to fight with his brother, tease him yes, but there was no way he'd risk losing his best friend over something like this. So he did what any smart-idiot would have done. He begged. "Have mercy my prince. It was just a mistake by your humble servant as they sought to serve thou."

Leon sighed, breathing deeply in and out. "Serve thou? Really?" He held out a hand to Michael.

Michael bounced up with a smile. "What can I say? I'm an old style guy at heart."

They started walking again, the feud and tension being worked out with each step. The two of them fought often enough. Their personalities just seemed to naturally lead to head butting. Usually Michael was the one that was starting the fights between them, or occasionally picking one with others,  while Leon remained calm and tried to cool him down as well. It wasn't often the other way, which made it really sink in for Michael how serious the situation was to Leon.

"Hey, I'm sorry alright. I really thought I was helping."

"I know." Again, that hand flitted through his hair. "I forgive you." Leon became quiet, for a moment obviously thinking about something. "Did she really say yes?"

A sly smirk crept across Michael's face. He slung an arm around his twin's shoulder. "Of course she did, why wouldn't she to a handsome mug like mine?"

"I thought you asked her out for me?"

"Me, you, what does it matter? We have the same face." Ignoring Leon's eye roll, he steered him along to the bottom of the tree forte. "Just you wait, I'm going to help you be the best Prince Charming there is and you'll be swiping your princess right off her feet."

They took turns scrambling up the tree and into the room with little issue. Michael flopped into bed, pulling the covers over his head, not bothering to change. Leon left and came back a couple minutes later, no doubt properly ready for sleep.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

Silence. Michael waited quietly a moment, before peeking out with a raised eyebrow. A sea of emotions was swirling in his brother's eyes.

"Good night." Leon finally said.

Michael gave his brother a wink and a half smile. He buried back beneath the covers, satisfied with the night. Leon may have not out-right thanked him, but he knew on some level his brother appreciated the effort, even if he was still mad about it. They had each other's backs, always. That comfort wrapped his as he fell into a deep sleep.

It was hot, far too hot. Leon must have closed the window again. The two of them were always fighting over it. Michael was always hot, while Leon ran cold. Their mother said it was because their internal temperatures were trying to match their personalities, the calm quiet boy and the prankster wild boy.

Michael squirmed, wriggling back and forth underneath the covers. He had them pulled tight over his head to block out the street lights, but it was getting too stuffy. He huffed flinging the covers off his head. The room was hazy in the dark as Michael stumbled over to the window and flung it open. Michael leaned forward with a smile, pressing the cool glass against his sweat shining forehead. The sun was just starting to rise.

A glimmer caught his reflection causing it to warp and bend within the flickering light. Michael laid a hand over the image. Everything was so silent. Not even Leon's snores filled the air, Michael turned back before going over to jump on his brother's bed. The springs groaned under the stress of the tall boy. He had recently hit his growth spurt and had enjoyed lording it over his thirteen minute older brother.

"Leon! Get up, I'm thinking we head downstairs and have some ice cream for breakfast while watching cartoons before the parents wake up."

No movement came from under the blankets.

"Hey Prince! Get your lazy butt up. Don't think I won't come under their and give you a kiss to wake up." Michael paused in his restless bobbing. "Leon?"

Michael reached out to grab the blanket; his hands became dusty and thick with an odd greasy substance. "What the hell did you get on your stuff? Mom's going to be so mad at you." He laughed, "It'll be nice for a change not to be the one in trouble."

Using his pants to wipe off the weird black, Michael proceeded to fling the covers off his brother and scream. The scream rose and fell as it turned from a prank to fear.

Lying within a small circle of black was a curled up and half-charred version of his brother. It was like a Halloween costume gone terribly wrong. The top half bubbled with blisters dotting the black leathered remains while the stomach down remained untouched. Michael screamed flying back from the figure.

"No no no. This must be a joke." He stared in shock, waiting for...something. "Leon come on this isn't funny. Look I'm sorry about telling that girl you liked her but seriously this is taking the whole revenge thing too far...Leon?"

Michael pulled himself off the floor, skittering the edge of the room as far from the body as possible. He ran down the hall, shouting for his parents. The smell of burning chased him down the hall. Michael ripped the door open. A wave a cooked flesh greeted him.

Michael gagged, choking on his own vomit as he stared at the charred lumps on the bed. They were still holding each other, two completely burned piles of bones.

The stench of smoke was getting thicker as the haze made it difficult to see, though surprisingly his throat felt fine. He could still breathe normally despite it all. Better safe than sorry though. Michael dropped down to the floor, like how they were taught back in fire safety week, staying low to the ground. He started crawling forward back towards their room and more importantly his little sister's room. His shaking hands came across something warm and sooty, a slight light still being emitted as the fire glowed and burned through the carpet. Michael dragged his fingers across it tracing the indent, barely feeling the heat of the lingering embers. They were his own footprints and a quick look to see the blacken bottoms of his feet only supported that.

It was too much. Michael launched forward, he had to get to...

"Olive! Olive, answer me!" Michael left a blazing trail behind him, leaving no doubt where he had been.

Michael burst into the room, crayon drawing were curling and smoking on the walls of the room fueling the spread of fire. It was the first actual fire he had seen besides that inside his footprints. Panic seized his chest and ran to the bed. Unlike the rest of his family, Olive was still in one piece. Her small body was very still on the bed, a little porcelain doll. He reached out a hand feeling for her pulse...nothing.

He began CPR. Compression and short breaths, compression and short breaths. The feeling of his sister's small chest dipping under his hand was sickening. Each pulse he feared to hear the crack of them just collapsing under the pressure. Michael leaned down and breathed into her mouth again, but when he pulled away a puff of smoke floated from her lips. It looked like she had just been smoking a cigarette. He deadpanned, reaching up to touch his own. Cupping a hand over the bottom of his mouth, he exhaled forcing most of the breath off his hand and up. A billow of smoke furled up into his eyes. Michael sobbed a strangled sound full of despair. He had been breathing smoke into his sister's lung.

What was wrong with him?

Michael picked up his sister off the bed and walked in a daze back to his parents' room. Laying her on the bed near their bones, he left and got Leon to put on their other side. Shock and horror had numbed all parts of him, he didn't know what made him keep moving but something deep within him needed them together. Finished, Michael slid down the front of the bed, by now much of the house was burning, a hot force of destruction. He closed his eyes waiting to be consumed with his family.

Tear streamed down the grim in his face, sizzling into steam from the heat he was generating.

He was the dragon that had slayed the prince and the rest of the royal family.