(The lyrics are from Dio's song "Time To Burn", which I do not own. Nor do I
own Aladdin. Ahhmal is my original character. On a less tedious note, I know
these chapters are sounding strained, but this is the last one till the
good, action packed, drama filled stuff. So please be patient. Thankees
muchies.)

Mozenrath's eyes were almost to the point of pleading with him to close as
he dragged himself to his feet, feeling every groan of protesting tissue and
damages.
Well at least Destane was finally sated.
But if he was trying to distract himself from the internal turmoil by
focusing on physical pain, it wasn't working.
He heard Destane's steady breathing as he passed the sleeping Master Of
Necropolis's bedroom to his own, the small one he had used before Destane
had started to insist on his company in the witching hours.
Leaving the door open, the shaming claustrophobic fears still infested
within him, he lay down bonelessly upon the bed, too tired to do much else.

"Someone told me I would never be free
The way you are is way you'll always be
But it's all wrong
There's Time To Burn"

He stared at the ceiling, adrift in the words Destane had said earlier that
weren't exactly easy to dismiss.
But any hope of alleviating himself of that problem was suffocated by the
early morning strands of shadows and Destane influenced presence, driving
him insane with their indistinguishable mutters.
"Hurt is on the pleasure wheel
But you can't hurt if you can't feel
And you can feel - you've got something to learn
You've got Time To Burn"

He held his head, which had begun to pound in rhythm with the fever that
beset him.
He had to get out of here.
Maybe Destane was right about him being hard headed but Destane's reactions
to the second escape this evening was the least of his problems.

"You were lost inside a pounding heart
Waiting for the game to start"

All that poison, all those lie's, they had to be lies, had to be disposed
off.
He just needed to think.
He strode purposefully out from the Citadel, doors parting for him with a
mere fluctuation of his will.
He didn't even shiver to appease the chill morning air, the stars fading
with blatant disregard for the romantics of the world.
He let his feet guide him rather than his eyes, which were burning holes
into the grass with the intensity of the tumult inside.

"But you won't play - you've so much to learn
Like you never say never
We'll live forever
And you've got Time To Burn"

But nothing came to him; no strings were unfurled, no knots undone, the
feeling of the problems more dominating than the specifics itself.
He was brought back to Earth rudely however, when he crashed headlong into a
solid chest.
From the ground he got a bugs eye view of a sea of faces, extending past his
line of vision.
Each was grim and each was determined.
Mozenrath got to his feet quickly, brushing at imaginary dirt to hide the
blush on his face at looking so klutzy.
But at the shifting silence of the crowd and most importantly, the man he
had collided with made him testy.
"What? I don't even get a sorry or excuse me?"

"When the wolf is loose in the city
The city will fight to survive"

"You shouldn't be here." Came the reply of a man testing the waters.
"Might you enlighten me on why?"
His speaker was not amused by his sarcasm, and apparently others in the mob
shared that feeling as more than a few piped up with their opinions.
"You're a menace!"
"Where you go, destruction and harm follows."
"Your evoke his master's wrath"
Mozenrath rolled his eyes.
"I don't have time for this" Mozenrath grumbled to himself, the headache and
disorder grating his nerves mercilessly.
"You can hide in the streets of the city
But no one will care
No one will know you're alive
There's Time To Burn'

He went to push past the gathering of people, and was taken aback when he
felt hands restrain him, pulling him back.
He jerked out of their grasp indignantly, looking around bewildered as a
defensive feeling over took him, his power snapping and crackling about him,
renewed in ferocity as Destane's teaching had progressed in the passing
moons and seasons.
The assemblage of the city's men, however, had pressed into a tight circle,
Mozenrath at the center.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
" I don't think you understand, you being here endangers our homes and
families because where you go, his master pursues. Were asking, go back to
the Citadel."
He looked around at the bleak yet firm countenances and knew it wasn't a
question; it was an ultimatum.
"And I'm telling; No"
"Then that is very unfortunate indeed."
The throng of people pressed closed, hands came at him, he fired in
retaliation, earning nothing but a disapproving shout as he heard the blast
skid unfulfilled onto the sand as his hands were restrained behind him and
bound.

"Someone told me I would never be free
The way you are is way you'll always be"

He earned some space, however, as a well-aimed kick and a couple of
ineffectual yet still sizzling blasts aimed behind him scattered the mass of
people.
He looked around disbelieving at the gall of these people. He had every
right to be where he wanted just as they.
He jerked from the timid reaching of a hand that tried to bring him back in
control.
Back to the Citadel.
Back to Destane.
" Come any closer and I will personally rend your head from your shoulders!"
he snarled in frustration, angrily working the joints in his wrists in an
attempt to free himself and fight.
This wasn't fair!
Since when did he become the villain in this?

"But it's all wrong
Just never say never"

He struggled and fought like a hellion as he was manhandles and frog marched
to the Citadels doors, managing to inflict broken toes and bloodies noses,
where Destane was waiting like a cat who had just got his cream, a look that
fanned the flames of fury burning in Mozenrath, a grief that reeked of
betrayal and deprivation.
He glared pure loathing at Destane as the previous leader, or thought-to-be
leader of the group, stepped forward, bowing low, and not making eye
contact.
"Well gentlemen, I must thank you for returning wandering little kitten."
He punctured the last part with an extra dash of malice, watching Mozenrath
turn bright crimson as he avoided the chaste yet curious looks.
"Our only wish master is for your contentment".
"Is that so?" Destane said in a tone that satisfied Mozenrath's resentment
by getting the man to shift uncomfortably.
Apparently pleased by his subject's lack of response, Destane continued
effortlessly with a not so subtly suggestion,
"I am not above noticing that your families and homes are in, shall I say,
want for supplies and food since the trade her has faltered due to dust
storms. Is that what you want in return, compensation?"
The man he addressed looked taken aback, forgetting himself as he rubbed the
back of his neck self-consciously, aware now he was that transparent.
Before he could stumble out the required, polite, yet false refusal, a bag
of gold and coins was tossed at his feet.
He looked up in awe, and not without the hinting of skepticism, as he took
the bag into his hands.
He bowed deeply,
"My lord, thank you."
Destane gave him a condescending grin that slid past his listener's
attention like butter.

"We're gonna live forever"

Mozenrath was beyond fuming.
Betrayed.
"So what?!? That's it?!?"
Destane gave a queer sideways grin as he watched his apprentice command
attention as he quaked with rage, unbeknownst to him even as the power in
him rose with his anger, slowly burning at the restraints on his hands.
" I can't believe you people! You whine and bitch about the injustices you
face and then turn and justify the same sorts of things just to suit your
needs!!!"
He didn't care if he was rambling or getting taken aback looks.
The gall of these people infuriated him.

"Cause you've got Time To Burn"

His hand raised, now free, and it was consumed by raw, kinetic hate. They
knew, he saw it in their eyes, they knew what was happening him, they had to
hear their screams.
And they turned away.
Cowards.
He felt renounced, beyond indignance, beyond offense.
The pink of the rising and dominating sun was dashed by glowing embers as
several homes danced, alit with fire.
Even as he was lead by a peculiarly silent Destane back into the Citadel,
Mozenrath knew he had done the damage that triggered the screams in the
background as the men who beset him rushed to put out the fires.
And it felt good.

"Time To Burn"
Dean