When it was just Flynn and Mama, when Papa was a face he could barely remember telling Mama he'd be home soon, she would hold Flynn on her lap and tell him all sorts of things. How brave and strong Papa was, how big he was getting, and something special. She told him never to be afraid of fire. She told him with serious eyes that almost made him cry, thinking he had done something wrong and made Mama angry with him. He wasn't afraid of fire! It was beautiful. She couldn't tell him why, that Papa would be able to tell him more, but he should never be afraid of fire.

When it was Flynn and Mother, when Father was a gravestone he would visit, he met a boy that burned brighter than anyone he had ever met. He shone even through the dirt crusting on his skin and burned with each word dripping from his lips. He was fire in human form, fists stinging like how he imagined burns would as Flynn and Yuri got in their first fight.

When it was Flynn and Yuri, Flynn still didn't know what his mother had meant by her dying words to remember not to fear fire.

It was a dark, clear, quiet night.

Quiet made Flynn uneasy, especially now. There had been enough of an influx of people that it made keeping the peace around Zaphias a nightmare. The guards were working overtime trying to keep the peace, from thieving all the way to any act of violence. It wasn't perfect, but they did manage to keep it down as low as they could. Until tonight, when... nothing happened. No one screamed about a thief or anyone beating them or holding them down. There were no sounds of drunkards gearing up for a fight. When a Knight came to report to him, there was nothing to say. It was quiet.

It was too quiet.

As Flynn's hands sketched his signature over the papers, waiting for the next check in, tension knotted his shoulders and neck and settled in the base of his skull. There should have been something. Anything. Even if it was something small that didn't require his presence. It was if everyone, even the homeless were staying off the streets tonight. Something unfurled in his mind, a thought that they knew something was coming. He wasn't the only one that could feel something in the air, he was sure of it. Something was coming. The hours kept counting down, crawling slowly as the pounding in his head crept up to his temples. It was a long night even if he went home now, as the papers on his desk were due in the morning. Better he stayed and got them done now instead of forcing them done before overseeing training and missing something in his haste.

And time kept passing, unrelenting in the silence. Finally, he started to accept that it was just a rare quiet night. Even though he had never seen them before, it had a chance of just happening. The realist in him warned him that was impossible, that something was going to happen, it just was gearing up. But he had to keep an optimistic view of things. If he thought things were going to go wrong, they would. He had to think it was just a good night.

Which seemed to tie in further as he finished his paperwork early. He could get a few more hours of sleep than he originally had planned. Flynn stood slowly, nodding at the soldier at the door as he gathered his work and filed them. Time to lay his head down and sleep this headache off. He rubbed his eyes as he left, starting down the streets towards his house. Time to sleep, and let this strange night pass as it would. If anything happened, it would have to be something Sodia could manage. Thankfully, that happened to be almost everything he could with few exceptions.

Which was when he smelled smoke.

His feet took him into a flat out run before he could register it, his mind trying to figure where it was coming from. It was nearby, and if his memory served right, at this time of night he would be the closest soldier. Shouts of alarm clued him in to the right direction, and he finally saw where the plume of smoke and lick of flame came from. Alarm shocked through him as he realized it was a residential area, that there would be a family in there. His heart slowed a bit as a father and mother stumbled out, coughing as the father held a small bundle in his arms. "Are you well?" he asked, coming over to them. "What happened here?"

A vise grip held his elbow as brown eyes looked up at him. "My son's still in there," came the smoke roughed voice of the mother before coughing overtook her again. Flynn's chest constricted again as he turned towards the home, the flames starting to cover the door. He could hear shouts and the sound of armored boots, help coming, but it wouldn't be soon enough. Not with how long it would take for buckets to start making the rounds from the fountain to put the blaze out. It had to be now.

"I'll get him," he promised, taking her hand and squeezing it briefly. Before she could respond, he took a deep breath and entered the house.

Heat and smoke instantly hit him, making his eyes water as he worked his way around the fire to search for the boy. It was a small house, with one large room and a smaller, sleeping room. It wouldn't be hard to find him. Flynn's eyes scanned around as he moved through the two rooms, searching around, then- on a whim, he checked a closet, then sighed in relief as he bent down to the cowering five year old's level. "It'll be okay," he told him, yelling to be heard over the roar. "I'll get you out."

"I want my daddy," came the muffled wail, then a terrified scream and curling into a tighter ball as something crashed to the ground. The house was starting to fall apart as the fire ate through wood, leaving Flynn with little time.

"I'll take you to him. I'm Commandant Flynn." He reached out, pulling the kid into his arms. "I promise, it'll be okay." Whatever combination it was, the child instantly clung to him, shaking in his fear. But as he turned, another problem presented itself. The crash had been a beam restricting their escape from the room. If one of them climbed over the wood, they could make it to the door, but it would have to be one at a time. Flynn couldn't make it over with anyone in his arms, not with the amount of room left. And the child was so afraid, clinging to him so hard... He looked around, not finding any other options. There was a window, high up to allow air in during hot months and to keep closed to keep heat in during winter. Same issue, only one at a time, and he would have to boost the child up. No, it was the best idea, as it would lead him right into his parents arms. "I need you to do something very important," he told him, serious. "I need you to climb over that beam there and then run straight for the door and don't stop."

"B-b-but," he started, shaking harder.

"No buts. Promise me you'll do that."

"You said everything was going to be okay!"

"And this is how it'll be okay." Flynn put him down, and tried to make him look at him. "Your dad's waiting for you on the other side of the door."

The child stopped, and looked at him slowly. "Daddy's waiting?" Flynn nodded, feeling a cough starting to build in his throat despite the relatively cooler air nearer to the floor. They had to go, and soon. The kid turned, and without another word, starting to scramble over the wood. He could follow directions well, better than some of his men, and bolted straight for the door. The cough building in Flynn's throat forced itself out as he started to hoist himself himself over the beam, trying to filter at least a little of the smoke out by holding his arm over his mouth. Another crash shook the floor, breaking his balance slightly as he lifted his watering gaze over the room. Another part of the ceiling had caved in, blocking off the door. He climbed off the beam and whirled, ready to take the window route he had seen when the flames blazed even closer than he realized. He could leap through them but he would risk catching on fire, unable to put it out until he was certain he was safe outside the house...

But if he stayed there, he was definitely going to suffocate, if not burn...

"Damn!" He clenched his fists, readying himself to bolt for the window. It was his only option, even with the possibility of bringing the fire outside the house. If there was only something he could do-!

Then

Everything

Stopped.

Flynn froze as the roar of the flames suddenly quieted, fearing he had gone deaf. But no, the fire itself had frozen in time, stopping in mid blaze, licking and curling in wondrous ways he normally didn't get to see. Even the ash and smoke seemed to hover, suspended in mid-air, as he cast his bewildered gaze around. It was as if time itself had stopped. The heat still radiated from the flames, though... it didn't overwhelm him. It never had, he realized with a start. Not even when he entered. Flynn reached out despite himself, fingers slowly scooping up a little piece of flame and watched it come back to life, burning merrily on his fingertips. Breath caught in his throat as he watched it jump and bow around his fingers, watching in wonder as it slowly dissipated, leaving his gauntlet scorched and hot, but the skin under not feeling the effects of the heated metal. Something poked his memory, his mother's voice, reminding him in a weak tone as she died about fire-

Wood groaned above him, and Flynn had just enough time to start moving on instinct before the ceiling collapsed in this room as well, a beam catching him in the temple. He staggered for a moment, stunned before another bit of ceiling smashed into the back of his head, knocking him out just as the fire roared back to life.