War changed him. It did not matter if he was right. It only mattered what remained of the man he once was. Amin was a fire-starter with the ability to control fire. The thick fog surrounded the fire-starter. Clashing iron echoed in the young man's ears. The battle took place in the country of Ravenhall. Amin pushed his palms out as a small fireball rushed at him. He felt the heat of the flames for a moment. Turning around, Amin hurled the fireball into the fog. He glanced at a new enemy in red armor coming out of the murk. The enemy charged at Amin with a broadsword in hand. The fire-starter breathed in the smoky air. Warmth grew inside the young fire-starter's chest. When he exhaled, blazing fire shot out of his mouth. Orange and yellow heat consumed the enemy's weapon. The red knight screamed while letting go of the useless broadsword. Amin used his fire-breathing magic on his distracted enemy. Within a second, the ablaze knight crumbled into ashes. Amin searched around the murky battlefield with his brown eyes.

Two more red-armored warriors came out of the fog. The silver circular symbol of air shined on their chest pieces. Amin's eyes widened as the two warriors pushed their gloved hands back. A strong wind pushed Amin up from the dirt. Before he knew it, cold air began to suck out of his lungs. The fire-starter struggled to gasp to breathe. His vision started to fade in and out of the darkness. His right hand trembled as Amin attempted to unleash more fire. The two wind-walkers clenched their fists as every part of Amin became limp.

Before his breath could become his last, Amin glimpsed at a moving shadow behind the two enemies. Loud sounds boomed in the clouded battlefield. Radiant white light shined on Amin's face as the force from the boom pushed Amin back. His heart pounded faster as his whole body fell onto the muddy dirt, letting out a groan of agony. The wind was no longer suffocating him. A shrilling noise rang in his ears. Amin covered them while yelling out loud. He blinked a few times as his sight was becoming more apparent. Beyond the fallen fire-starter, the thick fog began to vanish. In its place, stars shined as bright as diamonds against the dark sky.

...

"Amin, get back!"

A rough shout snapped Amin out of his trance. The memory of the battle faded from his mind. Amin glanced around his new surroundings. The sun was setting on the horizon. A salty scent was in the soft breeze. The fire-starter sighed in relief. Amin felt a shiver down his hunched spine. He no longer wore the ebony armor but gray robes. Two tears streamed from his eyes and slid down the long scar across his face. Wiping the tears away, he stepped away from the gentle waves of the sea. Goosebumps formed on his wet bare legs. Amin grasped onto his shaking arms. A hand clasped onto Amin's shoulder.

"It was just a dream," said the rough voice. Amin shook his shaggy hair. He pushed the hand off his shoulder. Amin sat down on the tan sand, next to his old boots. He heard the sheep, baaing by the water. On the beach's left side, the lad could see a small herd of Orkney sheep huddled together by the sea. The sheep shuddered under the cool sea breeze.  They continued to baa as one little lamb stumbled into the waves.

"Pisces!" Yelled Amin. He got up and sprint across the beach as fast as he could. His heart was pounding inside his chest. The lamb bleated in distress while thrashing in the saltwater.

"No, no, no!" Cried out the rough voice, "Not the lamb!" The sound of scurried bare feet beat against the sand. Amin leaped into the ocean. Icy water froze Amin's skin. His clothes cling onto himself. The little lamb began to sink into the sea as Amin reached out his arms and grabbed it. He held the animal by its narrow torso while it was kicking its small hooves against the water.

"I got you! Just hold on!" Shouted Amin, wrapping his left arm around the squirming lamb. The lad reached his right hand and stroked the water while kicking his legs hard in the sea. Amin kept on swimming until his feet touched the sand. He put the lamb down and guided it back to the ground. Amin glanced up at his friend. Pisces was a tall shepherd in ragged robes. He was a couple of years older than Amin. There was a worrisome glint in Pisces's gray eyes.

"I am fine, Pisces." replied the fire-starter. Amin shook his gray robes, dry. He pushed his dark soaked hair back from his face. The fire-starter rubbed his hands together. He could feel his teeth chatter. Amin cupped his hands close to his mouth and breathed a tiny flame. It vanished as quickly as possible. Before he knew it, Amin was back to being dry as a bone. The lad felt a numbing ache in his head. He rubbed the side of the temple before it vanished.

"Do not even bother to lie," said Pisces. The lanky shepherd grasped onto the shivering lamb. Holding the lamb steady and still with one hand, Pisces grabbed the front right leg. Amin did not flinch when the shepherd snapped the lamb's leg. The sound of broken bones was too familiar to Amin. He had heard far worse than the snapping of a little creature's limb. Pisces tore the edge of his sand-covered robe as the lamb baaed in pain. The wooly creature squirmed under Pisces's grasp, but the shepherd held the animal as still as it could. The shepherd wrapped the cloth around the lamb's broken leg. When Pisces had finished his task, he scooped the lamb up and put it over his slim shoulders.

"Ravenhall already won. You do not have to worry about it, " said Pisces. Amin moved his head, side to side. The fire-starter knew that the shepherd was talking about the four-year war. On his eighteenth birthday, Ravenhall's royal army recruited Amin and other fire-starters in Maratan. The fire-starters were not the only elemental mages who got enlisted into war. There were different types of elemental mages in the world. There were the earth-breakers, water-tamers, and wind-walkers. Amin fought against the enemies in the name of duty and honor for Ravenhall. The sands in the hourglass of time had dropped as battles raged on. The war had finally ended two winters ago.

Amin shook his head again. "That is enough, Pisces!" yelled the fire-starter. He was taken back by the volume of his voice. But, Pisces remained calm. He did not move his spot in the sand. Silence stilled over the two lads. All of a sudden, faint church bells rang in the distance. Amin jumped back, startled by the sound.

"It is the last call to curfew," explained Pisces, "We better hurry before the gates close."

The tall shepherd gaited across the sand. Amin sighed in relief, for he was still on the seashore, not on the battlefield. He grabbed his boots. His fingers hurried to put the shoes back on. Within a couple of minutes, Amin yanked the shepherd's hooked staff out of the sand. The fire-starter rounded the sheep as one by one rose and left their spot.

Amin, Pisces, and the Orkney sheep headed back to the town of Maratan. With each step they took, the church bells rang louder than ever. Maratan stood at the edge of the beach. From afar, it looked like a towering mountain. Time flew by as the travelers and the sheep arrived at the double iron gates of Maratan. Its sharp spikes nailed to the gates were pointed at the group. Amin hitched his breath for a moment. The iron spikes transformed themselves into sword blades. The fire-starter shut his sight for a second before opening them back to the present. Iron spikes remained to be the same as they were before the transformation. Faint chatter of villagers sounded over the gates, along with obscure steps against the cobblestones. 

"Who goes down there?" shouted a booming voice from the top of the gates. Both Amin and Pisces looked up together at the source of the shout. Standing on the top of the gate, an ebony-robed guard held a sharp spear.

"Amin, Battle Pyromancer. I am traveling with Pisces, Shepherd of the East," shouted Amin. The title of Battle Pyromancer was a constant reminder of who Amin was before returning home. His weary fingers took the golden necklace that was around his neck. Amin had hidden the chain underneath the robe. The necklace clasped a small amber rock. It glowed bright red. Pisces took out his iron necklace that had an opal stone. It shined like a tiny star.

"You may enter!" called out the burly guard. The light of the stones dimmed down. Amin and Pisces put their necklaces inside their tattered robes. The iron gates swung open with a clang. The group entered the town of Maratan. A few villagers had scattered outside their stone homes. Almost all the wooden doors were closed shut. The tall stone houses loomed over the group like giants. The iron gates slammed shut with a bang behind the travelers. Amin's heart sank. He clenched his fists when the iron gates were closed together. He breathed through his teeth.

"I have to go home. See you tomorrow," murmured Amin, handing the shepherd's staff back to Pisces. He waved his hand goodbye and headed up the cobblestone road. Amin could hear Pisces's goodbye without looking back. The lad in gray robes closed his eyes while spreading his arms wide. He inhaled, feeling deep warmth inside. When Amin exhaled, thin flames steam out of his fingertips. Torches on each side of the doors lit up as the fire-starter continued to gait his way home. Amin kept his eyes closed in concentration. Even with the power of fire, a fire-starter must remain calm and never lose control under any circumstances.

The fire-starter did not stop his fire magic until every passerby touch had a radiant flame. The warmth inside himself began to grow weak. When the last torch was shined bright, a dull ache pounded inside Amin's head. He pinched a small spot between his fingers and thumb. His headache was gone. That was a small price for not using magic since last winter. Amin did not want to find out what would happen to himself if he stopped using his powers altogether. Dread filled Amin while recalling the tales of elemental mages who stopped using their powers.

Amin found himself running to the front door of his cottage. The twisted tales of melting water-tamers, disappearing wind-walkers, burnt-out fire-starters, and petrified earth-breakers were still inside his head. When he opened and hurried inside, Amin slammed the wooden door shut behind. The sound of the door slamming interrupted the fire-starter's troubled thoughts.

Inside of the stone cottage, it was a massive one room. It was almost barren, except for a simple bed on the far right corner. As for the left side of the room, one old table and chair stood still. The fire-starter's home was not what it used to look like before the war. The villagers now owned almost every valuable object from the lad's cottage. He walked over to his bed and knelt next to it. Amin reached out underneath the bed. At first, the fire-starter only touched the dust on the floor. Amin had a faint smile on his face when he grasped onto something smooth and sharp-edged. A sense of anxiousness overwhelmed Amin while pulling the object from under the bed.

It was a square brown box with the carved symbol of fire on the top. Amin pulled the cold top open and threw it aside. The top clatter echoed inside the room.