It started with a fire, just a small one for a small boy who just barrowed a new book from a scholar in town. Quirin didn't know why he had to barrow it, it wasn't like they were lacking in books. Normally, the boy got a new Flynn Rider book from the stall in the market once a month, saved up all of his pocket money for the lastest installment. But this book Varian swore was different, his father figured it couldn't do any harm, his son may be smart but he didn't think the boy could understand all of what that book said, not yet anyway. And he was right becuase coming upstairs to get the boy, he found his desk slightly ablaze. Once the fire was out Quirin asked the child -who just lost another baby tooth and had those wide, wide, eyes like his mother- exactly what happened. He was a smart boy, he knew to be careful with candles. But it wasn't a candle, well not exactly, it was some idea the boy had. Something about a candle that's harder to blow out when combined with- this combing things was the issue and it was just the start.
As Varian got older his interest in these combining of things grew, and Quirin was a little worried when he got better at it. Or at least more daring.
The scholar in town who sparked this interest had only seen the first of one mass-scale failure. He was old by then, and Varian still came to him for books and knowledge. He was 12 when going through the narrow streets to the house full of hand-written books, that he was surprised to find his father there on the steps chatting with the old man. Most of the words were lost on the child, but he got just close enough to hear his father say.
"Thank you, he doesn't need this stuff." And walk off. Quirin hoped this put an end to it, an end to his laying awake at night worrying over the lastest small fire, or mass-accident. The last one they had to rebuild their roof. But though the scholar had stopped providing the infomation, he still lite the spark.
That night they'd caught a raccoon, and Quirin and the men did what you do with vermin: they were drowned in the river, the same with gophers who dug up crops, and rats who came with sicknesses. When Quirin returned he found the boy asleep, the expensive parchment he had for his lessons were covered in doodles, it looked like a raccoon in a puddle. Quirin didn't think anything of it and simply put the boy to bed and the papers away. He could still use the other side for school.
But it continued still, Quirin found himself waking with a jolt many times when Varian was older now, his dreams filled with the lastest, or any damage, the pipes scare was she happens this time. If that large pipe had landed any other way- he didn't want to think about it. He certainly hated remembering Varian caused it. After he'd wake he'd raise to go to the outhouse, he could just use his chamber pot but going all the way to the outside gave him a reason to pass Varian's room. It calmed his heartbeat to see a sleeping figure in the bed. But Quirin knew one day his worst fear could happen. It was late fall, the harvest almost done, Quirin had planned to help out a little late into the workday than normal. But then the explosion. It wasn't anything compared to other ones, no buildings were actually destroyed. At least, nothing that couldn't be repaired. The walk home though was quiet.
The two entered the house, it's warm stove fire already glowing and seeping in from the kitchen. Verian quietly and awkwardly rubbed his forearm, waiting for...somethjng. Quirin didn't even turn around as he went to the fireplace to start stacking logs.
"Dad? I'm-"
"I know, Varian." The man sighed as he stood up.
"You know?"
"I know you didn't mean it. You never mean it." He came over and finally looked at his son, but still he wasn't making eye contact as he wiped some of his hair to one side, a small amount of blood had gathered around a small gash, but it was an injury nonetheless. He started to get the iodide, and a rag to clean it. He said nothing as he cleaned it and Varian bit no lip from the pain. He held the rag there as his dad turned back to starting the fire.

"So? Uh," Varian asked, "do you want me to help with cleaning-?"
"No."
"But you normally have me-"
"Not this time. Varian-" He sighed again. "You need to stop this. What happened to you? Why can't you be like the other kids your age?!" That part had not meant to come out at all. Yes, Quirin loved his son, but he'd also love if all he had to worry about with him was puberty, the occasional bad date with a bad girl, a lack of interest in school! Something like other teenagers. He turned around as fast as he could but the door upstairs was already fairy heard shifting. He couldn't even slam a door like kids his age.
With nothing else on his mind, Quirin sighed and walked into the small kitchen. He grabbed the kettle off of the stove and used the water pump to fill it. He set the kettle on the burner before getting some ale from the rack, seasons from another rack, and setting a small pot of the stuff to warm. Finally he got out two mugs, filled one half-way with the warm water, and half with the warmed ale, the second mug with all ale and both spiced. In total it took around fifteen, maybe twenty mintues. They didnt have a need for instantly hot water Quirin thought, the kettle was fine. Carefully he grabbed both of the mugs and started up the stairs. He did knock, but then entered the small room on the left anyway. A bit of candle was lite on the desk,the bed was still a mess from the moring- but there was no boy anywhere in the room.