David Jacob was born on the hottest day in 1882. He was slightly hotter than everyone around him, averaging around 100 degrees. Even indoor temperatures around 80 were too cold for him.

His parents began to notice their son's strangeness when he wasn't even one yet. The way he could withstand even the hottest of temperatures or the way he would need little to no water, or the way how the dead grass would start to smoke if he sat on it too long, or the way smoke would come off him when he was placed reluctantly in the bath. His parents noticed all of this.

But the strangest thing that happened was the reason why they moved.

One day at daycare David was coloring on a sheet of paper when a kid came and snatched it away. David had been furious and flames spread across the table. Soon the daycare was ablaze.

David was the only one who survived, everyone else was burned alive or died from smoke inhalation. But David somehow managed to escape unharmed. People started calling him a witch. And they threatened to kill the young boy if they didn't leave.

So David, his older sister, his mother, and his father set sail across the sea to America. The place their mother said that they could start over and get a new life for them.

As soon as David stepped foot onto land he instantly hated it. People around him spoke in English, a language his father had spent the last couple of weeks. He refused to learn, saying he would only learn it if they moved back.

Eventually, he had to learn, when he and his sister went to school. While Shara made so many new friends he made non. It wasn't so bad. He was good at school, he liked all the stories that had magic in them.

His teachers told him to stop reading stupid stories. That they were for little kids.

When David was eight his parents sat him and his sister down and told them that they were having a baby. Shara had been thrilled, David on the other hand was not sure.

Nine months later a baby boy named Les came into the world. Les cried a lot, especially whenever David held him. But when Shara did Les was just fine.

So, his baby brother didn't even like him. That was okay, he didn't need anybody. He had himself and that's all that mattered.

One night in the dead of winter David woke up to the sound of crying. No matter what he tried he couldn't go back to sleep. After a couple of minutes of crying, he went to investigate.

Baby Les was standing up in his crib his arms stretch out to him. He quietly went up to the crib so he wouldn't wake his parents. He gently picks up his brother. Oddly Les didn't cry when David held him. Les curled right into.

David held his brother close to him, it was his warmth against Les's coldness. Les began playing with one of his hands, but he didn't mind. He only pulled away his hand when Les started licking it.

He finally put Les back in his crib. His little brother wasn't happy at the lost of warmth. He just giggled as Les made grabbing motions at him. David put his hands on the crib railing.

He shrieked as his hands and the railing went up in flames. As soon as he took his hands away from the railing the fire stopped. His parents came running in hearing him.

He looked down at his hands, they were fine. The railing on the other hand had his hand print engraved at least an inch deep.

He slowly opened one of his hands. He watched as a small flame danced across his hand. He looked up at his parents who were staring at their son. His mom quickly put Les down and knelt in front of him.

She closed his hand and made a promise never ever to tell anyone. He promised, then he was told to go back to bed.

Once he was back in his room he opened his hands once again. He silently watched as his hands erupted into flames, but this time he wasn't scared of it. The flames calmed his still-racing heart. He had something he always dreamed of, a special power.