Chapter 1: Ashfire

The flames were silent, and burned without heat. There was no forewarning or hint of pain. They simply sprang into existence and then devoured, voraciously, in a soft, intangible fury, until nothing was left but a long black scar of scorched earth - and ash.

The arsonist was tired.

     He knew it, and didn't understand. He had accomplished the impossible. , like felling a tree in one stroke of the ax, clean and sure. He felt a liberating rush of triumph every time the massive structures trembled, crumbled, collapsed into a pile of rubble at the mercy of his whims. He relished the destruction. 

     And he was tired of it.

     "Can't fathom why," he muttered to his hands.

; the twin cliffs along both sides of the path were tall, stern, and unforgiving. There would be no easy route to open air.