He stared at the fire. It was a very ominous shade of blue but this did not disturb him. He wanted to move away from it, but not because of the flame's strange color. The problem was that the flame was emanating cold air that chilled him to his very bones.
The waves of cold swayed his thin silk robes. He would have liked to shiver, but he felt any movement might mean death in this strange place. The air blew his robes in a way that made the fabric billow out behind him and stick to his front. He was sure that in other circumstances he might have found the compromising position very much appreciated. At the moment though, it didn't work in his favor.
In the present, the position simply made him feel naked, alone, and terrified. Terror was not an unusual feeling for him, but any emotion of this degree felt strange. Not that he had felt normal at any time in his recent past, reliving all of one's horrifying memories since birth was not a pleasant experience. At least, that's what he thought had happened. One can never quite tell in this sort of situation.
"Traitor! Traitor! Liar! Traitor! Coward!"
He spun around, trying to locate the source of the voices. He went around on his feet twice, first quickly, then much slower, at a perplexed, stumbling pace. He tried to walk way from both the fire and the voices, but to know avail. All that existed was the dirt ground, the blue flame, and himself.
"The earth is talking. The voices are under your feet."
A voice had spoken out alone, interrupting his frantic thoughts. The sounds hung in the air long after they were spoken. They danced. They filled the empty atoms of the universe. These words were spoken more clearly than the others. They weren't catcalls.
A cloaked figure was visible as the boy looked up. He could see no more of him than the shadows the blue light cast upon his body. The face was hidden by a hood and the boy couldn't even see shadows there, just darkness. He felt, though, that if he could see the face, it would be as unfamiliar as the voice.
"They want to kill you. You're safe here. You have to go back soon. They know what you did. They know you failed."
The voice stated this so simply. It was a menacing monotone without the slightest trace of emotion or even ill-omened mechanics. The boy was rooted to the spot. He knew his feet would not move if he asked them to, and he didn't dare test this theory. The point this strange figure made was moot, indisputable. The boy had ruined everything and deserved any punishment anyone could think up, if they wanted to waste the time thinking about him.
"You owe them lives."
He wanted to avert his eyes from these painful words, but he knew it was true. Besides, he felt incapable of moving the required muscles in his eyes to do so.
"You still have value. You owe me no lives. You only owe me obedience."
The boy knew this was trouble. He didn't need more trouble. He had enough without this cloaked man. Was this the person causing him so much pain? Was this the reason he had been tortured? The boy could no longer stand for this. He spoke, "Why do I owe you anything?"
"I have something you need."
What did that mean? The boy had nothing he needed. There was no one that could be held ransom. Everyone he had ever cared for was dead.
"You need protection. Obey me and you won't be hurt."
It wasn't a request, or even a threat, just a command. He wouldn't die, but he had to kill. It always lead to killing. Death, somehow, was the only thing that could not be stopped. It kept coming, a constant companion in his life. He and death were side-by-side.
The boy sighed. He could kill again. He was free of whatever spell had been cast on him and now he was able to move. The figure seemed to start going backwards without moving. It was as if the rest of the universe was moving forward for this one being.
As the figure disappeared, the boy's attention was turned to the blue flames, burning without wood, on the ground. The flames were changing shape, molding from one thing to another, first a chain, then a snake, a sword… something was burning his neck… metal, a necklace of some sort, tiny chains interlocking a drawn down just below the collar of his cloak. They were pulled both by gravity and – he fingered the talisman at the bottom while trying to look down at it – a silver snake wrapped around a sword.