Marc Arden and the Siphilon Academy

- Dagger and Fire (Part 1)

Marc gasped between tears as he woke up. He immediately started panicking. His vision had gone white and he was shaking in hysterical sobs. He might have even been screaming. He took a few seconds to convince himself it was just a dream and started breathing deep. When he calmed down well enough to understand what was going on, the situation brought him close to panicking again.

His eyes adjusted to the bright light emanating from his chest, which lit up the whole room. He fumbled at his shirt, getting a grip, and ripping it off. His chest blazed in golden light. The light fell down on the white egg, or what used to be it. The egg lay in fragments all across his bed. With a shriek, a baby bird tossed itself onto Marc from underneath a pile of debris, flapping its feeble wings. The air inside Marc's lungs escaped with a hiss. He smacked the bird off his legs and threw himself off the bed.

He backed away into a wall and gasped for air, terrified. After calming down for the second time, taking in deep, ragged breaths, Marc was finally able to think rationally. He looked around the room for any other signs of life and sighed in relief. He wasn't in imminent danger. He shifted his attention back to the baby bird. It had feathers of sunset orange, and its body was shaped into a strong streamlined point. He guessed it was an eagle.

The bird shook its feathers and cried out, then shuffled slowly towards Marc. It neared the edge and slipped off the quilt. Marc leaped forwards and caught the bird roughly in his hands - and cursed - before it hit the floor. Marc cradled it and placed it on his bed, then got up, dusted off the pieces of egg scattered around the bed, and sat down beside the bird.

The bird squealed and jumped onto Marc's lap, with a lot of flapping from its wings. The bird nuzzled its furry head against Marc's bare chest, eyes glazed in pleasure. "It's kind of cuddly," Marc observed as he stroked the bird's feathers, now bathed in golden light. It looked amazing.

Suddenly, as though awakened from Marc's touch, the bird yawned and Marc felt its stomach rumble.

The bird squeezed itself out from under Marc's hand and sniffed around. With a cry, it hopped off the bed and glided clumsily down onto the floor.

Marc stared at the tiny bird, clueless as to what he should do. He didn't have any food in the room. Disbelief consumed Marc as the bird pushed away the wrappings of the meat pack and tore at the chunks inside.

Many minutes passed as Marc watched the bird finish munching strip after strip of meat until its tiny abdomen started bulging out. The bird yawned again and struggled to take flight. It crash-landed back next to Marc and curled up against his chest. It yawned for the third time and closed its clouded blue eyes. Within minutes, it was snoring soundly. Only then did Marc find time to process what had just happened.

Marc narrowed his eyes at the bird resting in his arms, pondering. Dom had given the egg to him. Dom was the one who made sure the meat pack was placed in the center of the room. Somehow Dom knew what that white egg contained but didn't warn him beforehand. Dom gave him the egg just as he was slipping off to sleep, so as not to leave any room for him to wonder.

How could Dom leave him forever in the dark? How could Dom get away with all he has in store for Marc, without his consent?

He seethed at Dom's cunningness, and his stupidity. He decided that he would fight back at Dom if he wasn't going to get any answers. Dom was just like his father all over again. Treating him like a child that listens to his elders because it is 'good for him.'

Marc shook his head to escape his thoughts. Gently pressing the bird against his chest, he eased himself out of bed and made for the window, pushing them open soundlessly. It was almost dawn, the sky a pleasant, dark blue. Marc's thoughts returned to him, now carrying images his dream. He pictured the woman's face, undoubtedly his mother. She was so beautiful, so gentle-looking, so motherly.

Marc yearned to meet her and his sister. But fear at not fitting in with them arose. What if he disappointed them? He pictured their looks, melancholic and disappointed, all because he failed to reach their expectations. He couldn't bear holding on to the thought, so he discarded it without hesitation.

After the initial adrenalin seeped out of him, a strong vigor replaced it. Marc left the room, ready for a stroll around the grove. He found a spare tunic and some scarf in the wardrobe in his room, hung the tunic over his shoulder, and tucked the scarves around the sleeping bird. Then careful not to disrupt the silence, he left the house.

He stood on the porch, staring into the distance. A strand of sunlight was poking out of the horizon. The middle of the grove was still opaque in darkness, but the perimeter around the grove had the sinister morning light lingering around. As Marc squinted at the dark center of the grove, he sensed something move in his peripheral vision. Marc jerked his head in the direction of the movement, it had come from one of the corner clearings of the grove.

Marc caressed his belt with his free hand and came to a stop at his dagger. Running a finger along it, he clamped his hand around the handle and brought the dagger out. He felt the unfamiliar feeling of fire brewing inside him. He marvelled out how easy it was to reach out to the connection that binds him to the Fire element, even though he knew he couldn't control it yet, costing him incredible amounts of energy.

He made sure the bird was positioned well away from his fighting arm, trialled a few lunges with the dagger, then sneaked stealthily towards the corner of the grove.

As he neared the clearing, he felt the bird in his arms stir, no doubt disturbed by the change of Marc's body heat. Marc's chest no longer acted as a lamp, the golden light dimming by the second.

Marc slowly lowered the bird down and cushioned him against a patch of grass, causing the bird to emit an, almost inaudible, unhappy sigh.

He wiped the sweat beading his hands on his pants, and perspiration covering his forehead with his sleeve, before pulling the spare tunic on. Crouching low, he approached the clearing, navigating through the maze of hedges and bushes and trees, every fibre in his body on high alert.

He rounded to a natural corridor formed by the grove wall and a tall hedge, the clearing ahead loomed into Marc's view. A dark shadow fell from the tall hedge, giving Marc a chance to cover ground without being seen. Marc leaned his back flat against the hedge and started moving towards the clearing.

He looked ahead and recognized the misshapen, jutting outcropping of rock. Marc knew this was the clearing Dom visited earlier today. No one seemed to be around.

Marc was just about to head back when a voice screamed in frustration.

Instinctively, he dropped on all fours and shuffled behind a bush, his heart thudding against his now extinguished chest. He looked around wildly, assessing the damage of his carelessness to just walk into the clearing. His eyes locked onto the rock outcropping. He was sure someone was just outside his range of view behind the rock.

Just as he was forming a plan in his mind, a burst of dust and rubble broke from the rock. Someone had just hit the rock, breaking a piece of it into pieces of debris. Marc's mind swam with possibilities of who that someone or something could be.

Marc pushed himself up to his feet and backed away, out of the clearing, brushing off some dust from his clothes along the way. Marc walked around at the edge of the clearing, keeping his eyes on the rock, the shadows around it were too strong to make out anything under it.

Marc came to a stop on the opposite side of the clearing. He heard someone speaking, then a swift motion, and another blast resounded, another part of the rock broke off. A small silhouette of a figure flashed into view just after the rock above him broke away. Marc knew it was a man. The man looked so haggard that Marc knew he could take him.

Marc leaped out of his hiding spot and lunged directly at the oblivious man. He thrust his dagger in the direction of the man's left thigh just as the man turned in the direction of the sound of his footsteps.

Two things happened in quick succession.

The man deflected Marc's hand away with unbelievable speed, redirecting it down to Marc's own thigh, and the place where the man laid contact on Marc, a blast of fire shot out of Marc's skin.

Marc's dagger sank deep into his own thigh. He screamed.

Excruciating pain revolved around Marc's thigh, making it hard to concentrate. But Marc knew that he had just charred a part of the man's hand. Marc heard the man take off running, causing Marc to exhale in relief. Perspiration flooded his face, dripping onto his hands and legs, mingling with Marc's blood.

Groaning with effort and pain, Marc shifted into a stance, readying himself for the inevitable task of pulling the dagger out. He gathered all the memories he thought would help him stay calm. The face of his mother surfaced into his mind.

His scream tore through the grove as he wrenched the dagger out. He struggled to gasp for breath and screamed again in pain.

He staggered blindly and fell upon the rock. The place in which the man broke off the rock sported a hole. The hole emanated a soft golden light. Without thinking, Marc rammed his hand into the hole. Just then he hoped for any miracle to separate himself from all the pain and terror he was going through. He felt a strong rush of heat sear the palm of his hand in the hole. He pulled his hand out and flung it into the air, shaking off the pain the heat added to his already racking body. A fiery light shot out of his hand from his burnt palm, flying off into the unknown.

Slowly he lowered himself from his stance and dropped lifelessly to the ground. A feral call sounded, Marc couldn't think straight to know where from.

Marc vaguely remembered an orange blur soaring into the sky and landing at his feet, a few drops of liquid falling into his wound before his thigh erupted in an unbearable wave of pain. Marc fell unconscious.

*

Marc regained his consciousness to find himself back in his room. He immediately shot out of his bed, his hands automatically wrapping themselves around his thigh.

He froze.

There was no pain, no wound. He wondered if he just woke up from a terrible dream, but just then a bird soared in through the open window. Marc stared at it, his breath parting ways.

It was the baby bird, except...no longer a baby.

It had grown into a big handsome bird, sporting a fiery, orange, brilliant plumage. Its eyes were no longer cloudy, but electric blue. And its foot branched out into menacing big talons. It opened its razor-sharp beak and hooted softly, looking at Marc with twinkling eyes.

Marc then realized that he was looking at an actual, living phoenix.

He was so fascinated with the bird, and with his pain gone, he completely forgot about his near-death event.

Now it all came rushing back.

"You were the one who healed me and carried me all the way back here?!" Marc asked the phoenix.

The phoenix blanched in irritation. Then it flicked its long tail and flew up, opening up its wings.

The sight made goosebumps erupt along Marc's spine. Marc understood the phoenix's intentions. He rubbed his thigh, remembering that phoenixes' tears have healing properties, but they also have immense strength. He approached the phoenix and positioned himself right under it. He then wrapped the phoenix's tail in his hand and tugged in response.

Immediately, the phoenix rose a few inches off the ground, lifting Marc too, defying all laws of physics. Marc laughed in delight and let go of the phoenix's tail, landing on both feet. The phoenix raised its head, and waved its wings, making them glow brighter.

Marc laughed again and shook his head, muttering,

"Show off."

The phoenix lamented lamely and looked eagerly at Marc.

Somehow Marc knew what it was expecting from him. And this form of communication was inexplainable.

Marc gazed at the fiery orange coat of the phoenix and said,

"I name you…Arcane!"

The phoenix rose to his full height and let loose a display of bright warm light.

Marc smiled fondly at the phoenix and sighed. Then headed into the bathroom and began cleaning the dried blood from his thigh and clothes. The water started running this time. Maybe it had rained while he was asleep. When he was done cleaning himself, he left the room. Arcane following closely behind him.

Marc went in search of Dom, but since he didn't know where Dom was sleeping, he made his way into the living room. Dom wasn't around, so Marc went out onto the porch and searched the grove. Overall, Marc considered it inactive. Only a couple of birds flitted across the early morning sky. More than once did Marc's eyes flick towards the clearing in the corner of the grove, the rock grave was still standing, but the damage done to it hours ago wasn't very visible this far away. Marc also remembered that his dagger was dropped there, somewhere. He decided to retrieve it after talking to Dom.

Marc went back into the house and towards the back end of the house. He found himself in the kitchen, and just like every other part of the house, it had a medieval approach to the cooking experience. With fireplaces and big cutting boards. The walls were made of stone bricks and wood, and sported huge tall cabinets, which held bottles of water.

There was a backdoor - barred with iron panels - connected to the kitchen. Marc carefully removed the iron panels and leaned them against the wall, forcing the door open and entering the backyard. Marc immediately witnessed a lot of activity. Arcane flew up onto a tree as Marc found Dom bustling around the backyard, carrying many pails of water with one hand and pouring them onto the other hand, sprinkling water over some plants.

Dom sensed Marc behind him and abruptly stopped his work and turned around, standing business-like, with both hands behind his back.

Marc stared suspiciously back at him.

"What are you doing this early in the morning?" Marc asked.

"Just, you know, making sure the plants back here are receiving enough water. Clearly, they don't get as much water as the plants up front." Dom said all this with a waving of his hand. Motioning at the plants.

Marc thought that the plants looked quite healthy to him. He approached Dom and took a filled pail of water from the ground and began watering more plants.

"So, when are we leaving?"

"I was going to suggest that we leave just after waking you up, but then I noticed these dying plants," Dom said, again pointing at some of the plants. "Why don't you start packing for the journey while I finish properly watering these plants?" More waving.

Marc turned away from the empty pail and stared at Dom, confused at his behavior. He was acting much like a child caught for doing something wrong.

"Okay, spit it out, what have you done?"

Dom flinched and looked around, uncomfortable. Marc searched Dom for any signs or clues and victoriously found out that Dom held one of his hands behind his back, trying to shift more of Marc's attention onto his other hand.

"Ah ha! Okay let's see it. What's that behind your back?" Marc shot at Dom. "What else are you hiding huh? Apart from all the other things kept hidden from me?"

Dom suddenly flared in anger. Marc froze, scared that he may have gone too far.

"Marc! This is not up for debate, you should have listened to me when I told you to leave. I have kept things hidden for reasons. I kept that bird up there a secret for a reason as well. It creates memories, it makes you yearn to learn more, instead of everything been said to you freely!"

Marc felt sorry for talking to Dom like that. But he just couldn't let things like this happen in the future.

"Be that as it may, I still need to know at least an inkling of what is to happen. If you had filled me in quite sufficiently, I wouldn't have worried too much about it. But because you left me alone to my troubled mind, I had to get worried sick and reckless."

Dom looked confusedly at Marc.

"Reckless?"

"Yes!" Marc screamed angrily. "Did you know that I almost died today? Died! Dom. We are talking about a matter of life and death! I wanted some fresh air from the mess you left me in, I wandered around the grove this morning, and at…"

Marc broke of as Dom raised a hand, eyes wide in realization. Marc wanted to talk about this disturbing matter more but stopped short as he stared at Dom's raised hand, eyes wide. The flesh at his wrist was charred and burnt right to the bone.

Marc staggered back in horror as the weight of the truth came crashing down upon him.

"…at the clearing?" Marc shook his head at Dom. "It was you who damaged the rock? You were the man?"

Dom nodded then looked at Marc and turn white at understanding Marc's thoughts.

"Oh no Marc! No, no its nothing like that. I'm not a person you'll be able to fight!"

Marc's anger rushed into him and his right arm sparked with fire, but quickly fizzled out. Arcane flew down and rushed to Marc's side. Instantaneously, Marc felt a boost in energy.

"Are you threatening me? I'm not able to take you on huh? What does it look like to you?" Marc screamed at him, tears blurring his vision. This time he managed to light his arm on fire.

Dom scowled at the sight of Marc bursting into flames, his face a mixture of wonder and pride, his flickering eyes lingered on Arcane for a fraction of a second then switched back to Marc, desperately.

"No! I didn't mean it that way, I meant that you've got it all wrong, I'm not the bad guy! Please Marc! Where's your logical side. I know you have the same approach to situations as your mother, please Marc!" Dom pleaded.

"Do not talk about my mother!" Marc whispered dangerously. "Even information on her wasn't given to me! Not even her name!

Dom clenched his hands into fists and glared at Marc. He clenched the fist on his good hand and made a gesture like an uppercut. A wall of rock erupted in front of him, like a barrier. From behind, Dom said,

"As I told you, it is not within my rights to give you that information! Your mother herself claims the right to disclose her name. Remember always that names have power, they carry stories within, and to prove my loyalty to you, I shall give you my real name."

Marc's anger vanished in a heartbeat, replaced with humor.

"You've been using a fake name all these years? A Siphilon in hiding?" Marc laughed. "How foolish I was to think I was on first-name terms with you!"

Dom closed his eyes, as if in prayer, then opened them said,

"I am Domedinh, but people call me Dominic, and I have Siphilon ancestors, as have you. "

Marc stared at Dom, dumbstruck. "So, you mean one of my parents is a Siphilon?"

Dom nodded.

"But which one? My mother?"

Dom nodded again, obliged now to answer Marc's questions. "Just as my father was."

"Was? You mean that stone grave down at the clearing was your father's?"

Dom nodded sadly. Marc felt even more sorry for Dom, but still, he needed answers.

"And who was your father, Dom?"

Dom looked down, tears swimming in his eyes.

"His name is Paderon." Dom croaked, voice filled with melancholy.

"Th-The Paderon?"

Dom nodded. Marc blanked out for a second, thinking about all the possibilities unveiled.

He felt extremely guilty for pestering Dom for questions this personal to Dom but couldn't help him. Marc had to know.

"But then why break the stone upon it? Which I am guessing you were the one who created."

Dom gritted his teeth and replied impatiently.

"I wasn't vandalizing it, I came across a light source glowing from within and had to know if he left me with something I could work with!"

"Oh..." Was all Marc said.

"What?" Dom squinted at him with bloodshot eyes.

"The thing is I took it." Marc replied sheepishly.

"What do you mean, took it? What did you take?!"

"I was half out of my wits when I rammed my hand into the hole, blind in pain. The light somehow called to me. It rushed into my palm and burned, which should be impossible because I'm immune to fire burns."

Dom shot Marc a quizzical look, assessing whether what Marc was saying was true.

"Can I see this burn?"

Marc held out his palm for both of them to see, but there was no sign to prove the burn. Marc stammered, confused. He glanced at Arcane.

Arcane shook his looked away.

Marc did what he thought was the most desperate solution and lit his palm on fire. Dom and him gasped in unison.

There in the middle of his palm shined a symbol. It looked like fire wrapped around the sun, more like a ball of pure fire.

"Never have I ever seen something like this happen to a Siphilon, much less a student. Paderon - my father - had a different case. This is totally new."

Marc looked up at Dom, fearful at this new revelation.

"What does it mean?"

"It means that you have the potential to achieve control of the sun element at your own pace. You won't have to use any sort of elemental enhancements."

Marc looked down at his hands again. The fire receded into his skin.

"B-but that can't be right! I don't feel that powerful right now. I assure you I am on the verge of collapse after that stunt I pulled off."

Dom suddenly burst out laughing. Marc waited patiently. He was sure he can't be that powerful.

"Do you even know what you've accomplished?" Marc shook his head at Dom. "Well then let me list it out. The very first day you wrought fire, you single-handedly lit up the firewood and burnt my hand all the way down to the bone." Dom inclined his head in the direction of his stiffly held, burnt hand.

Marc winced when he saw just how ugly the wound looked. He called Arcane down to heal Dom.

Dom disregarded Arcane as he healed Dom's hand, and continued speaking.

"The second day you show up with a phoenix, already managing to evolve him into his adolescent stage. On top of that, you stand your ground and manage to maintain a fist of fire."

Marc rolled his eyes at Dom's praises.

"I'm serious Marc. When I first noticed how quickly you set up that fireplace, I began to think that you had the first burst of your element. Usually showing up at dire moments. But I knew that it wasn't such a desperate need to light up the fireplace, so I figured that you simply started the fire by other means. But what you've come to do during just two days is astounding!"

Dom looked at Marc in fascination, with newfound interest, now that he doesn't have his burnt hand to worry about. Marc felt rather uncomfortable with his praises, not all of this was him. Arcane flew back onto the house roof, singing a long, slow, lamentation.

"Dom, I'm quite sure Arcane's evolving wasn't me. He came to my rescue just after you stabbed me. A light shot out of my palm and, now I come to think of it, had flown into baby Arcane."

Dom nodded, but Marc sensed that he wasn't shaken in his resolve.

"Still, I sense a ton of potential in you."

Marc shrugged and clapped his hands together.

"Well, I guess we can leave now that everything's being taken care of." Marc waved at the plants, grinning.

Dom nodded sagely, "I promise it won't happen again. Now let's go."

The both of them roamed around the house, packing up the little things they had remaining. Marc folded up the few meat strips in his pack and left the room. He united with Dom at the stables.

Dom had fed the horses and got them ready. Marc handed Dom some of the things essential that Dom had forgotten: a box of matches, an oil lamp, some few dried herbs. That kind of stuff.

Dom cast an amused look at the matches, then at Marc. Marc shrugged,

"You'll never know when we'll need it. I won't always have my energy ready to spend."

Dom nodded in affirmation. Pleased at Marc's ability to grasp what his powers meant.

They got the packs on the horse and readied everything for travel by midday. Soon they left the house at a slow trot along the middle path, Arcane following them high up in the air. Just before they left the grove, Marc stopped Dom, hurriedly slung himself of Conflagre, and sprinted through the hedges.

He arrived at the clearing and immediately saw what he was looking for. He retrieved his dagger and ran back. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, looking back at the rock.

Summoning the fire into his arms, he shot a ball of fire at the rock, filling the essence with as much gratitude he could muster. Then without a second glance, he left the clearing.