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Chapter Four: From the Ashes
Fire red eyes gleamed from beneath the smoke of the inferno. It had to only have been days since the Inn of the Last Home was burnt down, but thanks to Raistlin Majere, the smoke was only starting to diminish. A mage stepped forward from the bellowing smoke, his red robe in shreds. Blood crusted his torn robes, and arcane runes adorned his outfit, ablaze with the intensity of fire.
"He abandoned me, my own blood," the mage murmured under his breath. The sun was setting in the horizon, which was his destination. Walking on toward the sunset, Seraph could only think of one thing, revenge.
Having walked a great deal of distance since the burning of the Last Home, Raistlin sat down upon a stone, catching his breath. For some reason, the temperature seemed to grow intently hotter as the day progressed. Not usual for this time of year, some strange magic was at work here, definitely not the magic of the Gods either. "It's probably my imagination" Raistlin reassured himself, as he laid down for a 'quick' nap.
The temperature continued to rise as Raistlin slumbered, if it was not for the burning touch of a nearby traveler, Raistlin may not have woken up. "Who woke me?" Raistlin questioned. A familiar voice answered, but the voice didn't match the appearance. "I did, Raistlin Majere..." the traveler replied. "Oh," Raistlin murmured, "and who would you happen to be, sir?" The traveler's eyes gazed in shock as Raistlin asked. "I am you great nephew, Seraph, do you not recognize me?" Seraph asked.
"I guess not," Seraph replied for the archmagus. "How could you? Besides it was because of you that I still live." Raistlin, shocked at this accusation, calmly responded to this stranger's persona. "You are not my nephew; my nephew was killed a few days ago. Even if he did survive, you look nothing like him."
"Never judge a book by its cover dear uncle." Seraph sneered. "Remember when you gave me some magic of yours, to give me these red robes? When I died by the flames and your magic, your power woke inside of me. I was brought back to life, but only in this torturous body." Seraph paused to catch his breath. Raistlin could only stare at his stranger. He said he was Seraph Majere, his nephew. But Raistlin knew that could not be, this stranger had red hair that appeared to be ablaze with all the rage of fire, and his pupils were flames. His eyes were fiery red, and his robe had arcane runes encrypted in fire upon the flowing shreds of his outfit. This couldn't be his nephew, but in a sense it was.
"Your magic mixed with the burning flames, gave me this hair and robes, it even gave me a more accursed vision than your own." Seraph sighed. "Through these eyes I see not only the decaying of life that yours see, but the death of life itself. I see the deaths of all life I look upon, I can even be the cause of that death. With each passing day my body temperature rises." Seraph sighed once more. "My body is burning from the inside out, but it does not matter. My quest is your quest; I seek the same as yourself. I seek godhood, as do you. We share only two things in common now, my dear uncle."
Raistlin smiled, "Oh, and what's that?" Seraph imitated his uncle's smirk, "The Art, and our ambition..."
Chapter Four: From the Ashes
Fire red eyes gleamed from beneath the smoke of the inferno. It had to only have been days since the Inn of the Last Home was burnt down, but thanks to Raistlin Majere, the smoke was only starting to diminish. A mage stepped forward from the bellowing smoke, his red robe in shreds. Blood crusted his torn robes, and arcane runes adorned his outfit, ablaze with the intensity of fire.
"He abandoned me, my own blood," the mage murmured under his breath. The sun was setting in the horizon, which was his destination. Walking on toward the sunset, Seraph could only think of one thing, revenge.
Having walked a great deal of distance since the burning of the Last Home, Raistlin sat down upon a stone, catching his breath. For some reason, the temperature seemed to grow intently hotter as the day progressed. Not usual for this time of year, some strange magic was at work here, definitely not the magic of the Gods either. "It's probably my imagination" Raistlin reassured himself, as he laid down for a 'quick' nap.
The temperature continued to rise as Raistlin slumbered, if it was not for the burning touch of a nearby traveler, Raistlin may not have woken up. "Who woke me?" Raistlin questioned. A familiar voice answered, but the voice didn't match the appearance. "I did, Raistlin Majere..." the traveler replied. "Oh," Raistlin murmured, "and who would you happen to be, sir?" The traveler's eyes gazed in shock as Raistlin asked. "I am you great nephew, Seraph, do you not recognize me?" Seraph asked.
"I guess not," Seraph replied for the archmagus. "How could you? Besides it was because of you that I still live." Raistlin, shocked at this accusation, calmly responded to this stranger's persona. "You are not my nephew; my nephew was killed a few days ago. Even if he did survive, you look nothing like him."
"Never judge a book by its cover dear uncle." Seraph sneered. "Remember when you gave me some magic of yours, to give me these red robes? When I died by the flames and your magic, your power woke inside of me. I was brought back to life, but only in this torturous body." Seraph paused to catch his breath. Raistlin could only stare at his stranger. He said he was Seraph Majere, his nephew. But Raistlin knew that could not be, this stranger had red hair that appeared to be ablaze with all the rage of fire, and his pupils were flames. His eyes were fiery red, and his robe had arcane runes encrypted in fire upon the flowing shreds of his outfit. This couldn't be his nephew, but in a sense it was.
"Your magic mixed with the burning flames, gave me this hair and robes, it even gave me a more accursed vision than your own." Seraph sighed. "Through these eyes I see not only the decaying of life that yours see, but the death of life itself. I see the deaths of all life I look upon, I can even be the cause of that death. With each passing day my body temperature rises." Seraph sighed once more. "My body is burning from the inside out, but it does not matter. My quest is your quest; I seek the same as yourself. I seek godhood, as do you. We share only two things in common now, my dear uncle."
Raistlin smiled, "Oh, and what's that?" Seraph imitated his uncle's smirk, "The Art, and our ambition..."