Child of Ember - Chapter 24

Most noticible among the fallen timbers are the twisted remains of two blackened, fire scorched bodies. A mother clings in death to a young child, bits of blonde hair are plastered to blistered and scorched flesh. Huddled over the child's body in death, her last act of protection for the doomed infant in her arms. The child itself is remarkably untouched by the flames, its pale blue face makes it look like a painted doll in her mother's arms.
In another part of the house a man lies pinned beneath a fallen timber, his flesh has melted like way away from his bones, leaving a skeletal hand that reaches vainly for door knob to safety that lies just beyond his reach.
(Celestia)
Super imposed on the bodies is the ghostly images of the deceased. The mother weeps for a child she will never again hold, while the spirit of the man still vainly reaches for the door. In the distance there is the sounds of a baby's cry.
(Alexi)
Fear courses through her, the scent of the flesh, the charred remains, so many memories come rushing through her...
(Lit)
This reminds you too of memories, of your village burned by your foe your master's corpse, and your failure to stop your nemisis.

Alex moved slowly through the rubble, remembering her time with the priests in Costa Bella. She'd seen children die there. Seen mothers die to protect them. But this was, beyond anything she'd ever seen. The monster who had done this chilled her to the bone. The complete lack of humanity, of compassion.
Alex began to mumble in her native tongue as she moved through the reckage. "Madre del dios! Qué tipo de criatura podría hacer tal cosa. Una cara tan pequeña, así que poco, a los jóvenes a morir."
(Mother of God! What type of creature could do such a thing. Such a small face, so little, to young to die.)

Lit winces as the stench finally hits him. As he surveys the scene, imagining the fiery final moments these people must have suffered, tears well up in his eyes, the blue contrasting greatly with the fiery red of his irises. He suddenly falls to his knees, stiffly, as the strain becomes too much to bear.
"This is too much..." his voice rings with an otherworldliness, as if he was not speaking to anyone in particular, "...this is too much!"
He suddenly leaps to his feet and screams at the ruin,
"NO! I will not be blamed for this! THIS is not my fault!"
He turns to his companions, "you know! YOU know it wasn't my fault, don't you? DON'T YOU?"
Anyone that catches his eyes see that aside from their supernatural hue, there glows something else, they seem to pulse with energy. He looks to the sky, to the street surrounding them, anything that might conceal anyone or thing,
"I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING! I KNOW IT! AND..." his voice drops to a menacing whisper, "I will kill you. I promise you this..."
He catches Celestia's eye for what seems like a moment too long as he says this, turning aroundand looking to every nook and cranny, anywhere someone may be hiding,
"I will kill you slowly and painfully...I'll torture you for what you did to me! I will..."
He sees Alex freeze suddenly, and stops...his white hot anger quelling just enough to realize that no one is there, and if there is, they won't show themselves just now. He rushes to within a few steps of her, and stops.
"Alex? Alex? Are you ok?"

Alex stared at Lit blankly for a moment, her face a ghastly shade of white, before the young man's voice brought her back to the present. She shook her head slightly, as if coming out of a trance.
Though her slightly shaky voice made him doubt her answer, she responded "I am fine, Lit. I do not deal well with this particular smell. It conjures many bad memories for me. I did not realize this scene would still be so . . .. fresh."
Alex swallowed the bile pushing its way up her throat and moved over to examine the bodies, one by one. Does it look like they were killed by the enternal fire? Is there any indication of where the fire originated? or what started it?

Celestia gasps as she views the destruction. "They should have never died like this. And to still leave them exposed. Isn't that against their traditions?"
Celestia makes a quick gesture that some would recognize as a warding symbol verses evil.
Looking into Lit's Eyes and Alex's face, Celestia could tell that both have had trouble with fire in the past. Then something caught her eye. Almost subconsciously, Celestia responded to Lit's outburst, "No Lit, this isn't your fault. But we will find out whose it is."
Carefully, Celestia walked through the destruction. She glances down at the image of the man she sees, but something is drawing her towards the woman holding the child. Slowly reaching out her hand, Celestia tries to make contact with the image that she sees. Softly, she says, "Can you hear me?"

The woman makes no move to recognize the fact she is speaking.
The bodies had ben covered in ash and debris that the rain has since washed away.

Celestia hovered over the body, checking it carefully and trying to touch something. Her brow wrinkled with confusion and frustration.
Standing, she turned to the others. "I see 'shadows' or 'spirits' of the dead. They hover right over the bodies but don't appear to acknowledge my presence. I have tried to touch them, but I can't. Does anyone have any suggestions on what to do?"

Alex stared at the young child, then nodded at Celestia’s comment. “I don’t know. If the dead can’t tell us anything, maybe the rubble can.” The young woman moved over to the burned remains of the bar. “If this place was an inn, maybe there’s a guest book or a safe or something that survived the fire to give us an idea of why this place was a target for our arsonist? Or what connection it had with the other fires?”

Alex sees what might be a safe.
Lit smells a faint smell that he almost recognizes from his child hood days.

Alex moves to carefully investigate the safe.

Seeing that she has no way to interact with the dead, Celestia starts to follow Alex.

The safe is a blackened metal box about waiste high and the same width. A single dial and lever are the only means of access to it. The paint of the dial has been burned off, and It will be difficult to open with out it.

Lit sniffs the air again...
"I knew it..." he says out loud, "Celestia, Alex, I think we may have found something...or perhaps our arsonist has returned to the scene..."
He starts to walk toward where he smells the scent. As he does so, he casts a "Cantrip" on his dagger so that it gives off a very faint glow, not enough to light his way, but enough to be magical.

Alex draws her rapiers, leaving the safe and heading to follow Lit. She certainly hoped their arsonist hadn't returned. Alex wasn't sure this was a person she really wanted to meet.

Celestia also draws her weapon and follows Alex.
Softly she says, "I may have a way of finding the numbers on the dial and perhaps some other things, but it might be risky."

Alex smiles, "That would be helpful. How close is this person you sense, Lit?"

"I'm not quite sure how close it may be..."
Lit sniffs the air again, trying to get a sense of direction.

The scent leads him to a corner of the now crumbled manor. You see a sheen on the stone, like...
"Incindiary oil," you say to yourself as you recognize it. People where you came frm used oil like this to interogate prisoners. The flames from it were cool burning, and the oil itself causes a mild paralysis.

Dea stumbled along the river side. Her heart was beating and she was running out of breath. Dazed, she pauzed at a stable near the side. She nodded at teh merchant, trying to catch her breath.
Somehow, the new fire sounded wrong. It had started in the wrong place. At the wrong time. At least if her conjectures were right. Something was dawning at the back of her mind.
She looked at the man behind the stall. Swallowing away her tirednmess, she spoke "Excuse... me. I am looking for... the place that burned down this afternoon. Must be close near here. Can you tell me where it is and most importantly, who owned it?"

"That was the manor of Lysander Svenson," said the man as he piled fresh hay down for a pony to eat. the rain seemed to bother neither of them as they stoicly went about their nightly routine. "The watch said that the fire started in the son's room. Poor boy, today was his eleventh birthday."

More forthcoming...