Ignite: Part I

Chp. 1
For some strange reason, and I never understood why, I was extremely shy. Something in me was telling me to speak up, to let my voice be heard. A voice that wasn’t my own. It was literally a burning sensation in my throat every time I wanted to speak up, but couldn’t. I never understood why. There was a lot of things I never understood about myself. Why I never broke a bone, or never got a paper cut, or why my hair was deep orange, and my skin very tanned, while the rest of my family’s was blonde, and pale. Or most particularly, why my irises were stained a deep red, and why I had a red flame shaped birthmark on my left temple. I never understand these things, but they was all explained with rational, normal, pedestrian explanations, such as: “You got a good body, strong bones!” and “You just love being in the sun, loved it ever since you were little!” or “You just have a genetic disorder, but it won’t take your site!” With all the regular explanations, I knew that it had to be something different.
My family was moving cross country from Los Angeles, California to some small town in Indiana called Brooks. Population of around a thousand people sounded like a small gathering compared to the hustle and bustle of L.A. I was the only one who seemed dislike the move. My father was excited, he’d frequently remind me that, “We’ll start a new life, away from the craziness, and settle down for once”. We’d be moving from town to town in California since my mom died when I was three. I was seventeen now. It was as if she was home, and when she died, our home burned down. I’ve been depressed ever since, for some reason. My father told me that I was extremely attached to my mother before she died. She had red hair like me. She was tan like me. No one else understood me the way she did.
She would always tell me stories; stories about myself. That she found me laying on the beach one day after the sun spit me out. She explained that she had to use oven mitts to hold me because my body was too hot to touch. It was just a bedtime story, of course, but I always believed it. I always knew that I never belonged in my family. I was different from my father, and my older sisters. Except for my mother. We were exactly alike. She’d tell me, “Robby, don’t ever let anyone take away your voice. A fire will build in your tummy, burn in your throat, and you’ll burn your eyebrows off every time you sneeze”. I remembered her vividly, even though she died when I was so young. I loved her dearly.
As we drove, I fell into a deep sleep. I was having a pleasant dream: I was walking on the beach with my mother, the sun was barely rising over the ocean. The salty water spraying our faces. She was laughing, and we were enjoying our time together. But then the same came up, and my body starting glowing. My mother stepped away from me. I started to panic, and my tan skinned glowing orange, and my gingery hair turned a scarlet red. The red in my eyes turned crimson and swallowed my pupils. I turned to my mother, expecting her to scream in horror, but she was smiling. She backed away, and her body was lifted in the air, and she started to float slowly towards to sun, waving goodbye. I tried to run after her, and as I splashed in the water, steamed formed all around me. I reached out my hand, “Mom! Came back! Don’t leave me again!”
I was awaken with a hard slap to my face, my sister Roxy’s face filled my blurry vision. My three sister was staring at me with strange looks on their faces. My dad called from the drivers seat, “Are you alright, son? You’re back there sweating and writhing around.” I looked at him, and thought of the scene that had taken place while I slept. “Yeah, I’m fine--just a dream.”
Our dark blue minivan passed a large green sign that read, “WELCOME TO BROOKS! Pop. 962”. We were here, we were starting a new life, beginning a new chapter. Again, like we always do. But this time, it was supposed to be permanent.
We rolled in the driveway of our new home. It was a old looking, power blue, wooden house with a black shingled roof. Some of the wood was noticeably decaying, and some of the shingles littered the yard. The inside was a bit better, it still smelled as if it were 80 years old and had already been lived in, but it was clean and furnished. The furniture was vintage, the couches and chairs, the oven and appliances, the toilets and showers all looked as if they came from the 60’s.
My room was the exception. It had been painted my favorite color of red, and my bed sat in the middle with a bright orange comforter. There was a black dress across from it, and a desk to the right. It seemed better than all of the other rooms I’ve had in the past; it actually seemed like home.

Chp. 2
That night, as I slept, I dreamt. I dreamt of my mother, walking around on a rocky beach, staring up at the sun. Her gingery hair glowed bright orange in the sunlight. She stopped, and looked directly into the sun, and held her arms out. Suddenly, a ball of fire fell from the sun, straight towards my mother. She smiled and rose in the air, and stretched her arms out to catch the ball of fire. It hit her directly in the arms. The impact made a loud explosion, and she was set ablaze. She lowered herself into the waters resting at the beaches feet, and steam filled the air.
After the steam and smoke cleared, my mother stood there with something in her arms. She was smiling warmly at the something. A baby, glowing orange with scarlet hair, wriggled in her arms. His eyes were crimson red, and when he sneeze, fire came from his nose. As the vision faded away, loud voice whispered, “Ecarlate, Ecarlate, Ecarlate…”
I lunged up, drenched in sweat. I thought to myself, Who was the little boy with my mother? Was it--me? Something in my head was screaming at me, “School! Go!”. For some strange reason, I followed it’s direction and left my bed, and headed for the shower.
I’ve always showered in “really hot freaking water” as my sister Meagan called it. I never thought it was hot though; the burn feels good. It makes me looked like a psychopath.
I got out of the shower, got dressed and went back to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I walked out to the sink, and stared intensely into the mirror. I looked at my shaggy red hair that settled a little lower than my browline. I look at my tan face, and the birthmark on my temple. I looked into my strange red eyes. “What...are...you?”, I asked my reflection. Then a voice in my head whispered, “Ecarlate.”
I rushed down the stairs, and sat on the couch, waiting for my father to come down stairs and take me to school. I was surprised to see him enter the living room from the kitchen. He looked at me, and tossed me the keys to our minivan. “I’m getting a truck today. She’s your’s bud.”
I left my house with a skip in my step. I was secretly very exciting to have a car, but I restrained my enthusiasm. I stepped into the car, and started the engine. I sat there for a minute holding the wheel. Maybe this was for real. Maybe this move was permanent.
I pulled into the parking lot of Brooks High School, and I tensed up. Another first day, I’ve had so many first days, but this felt different. I was nervous. Severely nervous. I did not know what to expect.
I walked towards towards the school, and that’s where I saw her. She was around my height, maybe two inches shorter than my 5’11 frame, and skinny but toned. She has deep slate blue eyes. Her hair that sat at her shoulders was black, but seemed to glow blue in the sunlight. She wore a blue knitted sweater with black tights and boots. Everything about her was beautiful to me. Even her flawless skin that glowed in the sun like metal. She was perfect.
I walked the halls of the school, searching for my first class. Senior English, with Mrs. Grath. I walked into the class, and thirty pairs of eyes stared at me. I couldn’t look, but I could feel them. Scanning me. Surveying this strange ginger hair being that walked in their class.
Mrs. Grath, a tall, plump women was dying blonde hair and grey roots, walked up to me and grabbed my hand. She told me welcome to senior English, and asked me where I was from. Her eyes opened wide when I told her I was from California. Someone in the back of the class yelled, “Surfer boy”. The room hummed with laughter, but Mrs. Grath quickly ended it. She pointed to an empty desk in the middle of the class.
I sat down, and I still felt eyes probing me. I looked to my right, and saw a large figure. He looked like he was 6’2” when he stood, with unruly brown hair. He was large and muscular, and wore a tight white shirt. Stubble grew on his face, and he had mud brown eyes. He tapped his large boots on the floor, and wore a never ending smile.
I day dreamed the whole class, and saw visions of nothing but the blue girl. Her face and soft smile. Her eyes, and her perfect hair. The bell snapped me back to reality and I realized I was the only one still left in the class. I gathered my things, and walked out into the jungle that is Brooks High.
My teacher meeting, embarrassed filled, day dreaming day continued in each and every class until lunch. And I saw her again. The blue haired girl. But she was walking with the large boy from my class. My heart broke a little bit. But it patched itself back together when the constant voice in my head said very clearly, “Brother”. I trusted it.
I walked around and settled by myself at a lone table in the back. I watched the whole cafeteria. I saw the blue haired girl, and the large boy from my class walk over to a table of very peculiar people. A tall, slender boy of around 6’4” was sitting on the table, with his feet on the benches. His blonde hair spiked up, but it was more than blonde; it was golden. His skin was deathly pale, and his eyes matched his hair. He wore a yellow blazer with a white v-neck t-shirt underneath with slim fitting blue jeans and white tennis shoes. He wore a very serious look on his face, but when the large boy made a joke and started booming with laughter, he laughed with him.
Sitting next the him was a tall, slender girl with the same face. She had long, light blonde hair with green streaks that flowed down her back. She wore a light green sundress with brown cowboy boots. Whenever a joke was made, he probably laughed louder than anyone at the table.
Lastly, the was a boy sitting quickly in all black. His eyes was jet black, just like his hair, except for one solid white streak in his bangs. His hair was shaved of the way around except for the top and his bangs. He was little, and looked at least two years younger than everyone else. His skin was almost white, and he had a slight smirk on his face. They were the strangest group of teenagers I had ever seen.
After school, I drove downtown, and parked in front of a diner with a large, brown sign with gold writing that read “Jack’s”. I took a deep breath, got out of my van, and walked in the diner. I could feel the same eyes from school staring me down. i could not look in fear of what their face looked like. But I caught what they seemed like from the corner of my eye. They were the basic man-whore jocks, and their slutty “girlfriends”.
I kept walking and settled in a back at the back. I sat down in the blue leather seats, and put my backpack on the green table. And then I saw them. The same weird group from school. All laughing and chatting together like the oldest of friends.
Something was drawing me to them. They seemed so familiar to me, like I belonged with them. When I looked at each of them, the voice in my head started to spit out names. When I looked at the blue haired girl, I heard Margaret. The girl in green was Wendeline. The golden haired boy’s was Thomas. The big, brown haired guy’s name was Edgar. And lastly, the boy in all black’s name was Nero.
As I stared, Margaret turned and looked me directly in the eyes. Visions appeared in my mind, of seven shadows walking across a vast land; one glowed red, one glowed blue, one glowed green, one glowed brown, one glowed yellow, one was jet black, and the last glowed a bright white. The vision ended and I could hear Margaret whisper my name, “Robert”, from across the room.
All of a sudden, she slipped out of her sleep and headed right towards my table. She sat down, grabbed my hand, and looked in my eyes again. A blue tear trickled down her face, and she beamed at me as if I were a long lost family member. She looked at her friends, with apparently was a gestured to come join us.
She looked at each of them and they all nodded. He gazed into my eyes again and spoke to me for the first time, “Robert, we have been waiting for you for 1000 years.”

Chp. 3
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that I know you”, I responded after taken aback by her statement. She looked at me with a sarcastic look on her face and droned, “Robert, what is my name? Don’t tell me you don’t know my name. My voice told me your name. Our voices told us your name. What is my name, Robby?” They had voices too! I wasn’t the only one who had a voice in my head, telling me what to do, what to say, guiding me. My throat burned as the voice in my head screamed at me. “Margaret!”, I let out in a loud whisper. I grabbed my throat as the burning died down. Suddenly, my mind started to blur, and I could see images of myself and the others, but in cloaks, walking deep into the shadows. I saw another with my mother in my place. I saw her memories. Her memories, were my memories. I knew that I belonged with these people. That they were my real family.
Margaret and Thomas grabbed my arms, and we all rushed out of the diner. We went out to the back, and circled around Wendeline. I stared in wonder at all of them, recognizing their faces more and more. Then I was instructing my Margaret to put my hand on Wendeline’s shoulder, just as the others had. When I did, Wendeline lifted herself, and all of us two feet off of the ground. I started to panic, but a large hand on my shoulder calmed me down. I turned around to see that the owner of the hand was Edgar. He looked at me with a warm smile, and my voice whispered “Friend”.
Just then, we rushed through the sky, and I couldn’t see anything around me but blue, green, yellow, brown, and black shadows. We races through the clouds and everything around me was a blur. When we land, everyone else immediately started walking as if we never left the ground. I had to catch my breath, and wait for my head to stop spinning. Edgar grabbed my arm, and my site came back to me. Edgar seemed to know how to calm me down, even my mother couldn’t do that.
We were in the forest. Tall trees, all filled with green leaves, swayed in the breeze. Sounds of all different kind of animals filled my ears. I followed the others deeper into the forest. Every time I started to panic, Edgar looked at me, and smiled, and I immediately regained composure.
We stopped at a solid brick wall that looked as if each brick had been glazed with glass. There was large windows on each side of a solid glass door. Thomas stepped to the front of the group and when he did, we all passed right through the glass. I patted my body down to make sure I was still intact.
From the outside, it was just a wall with a door, but when as we walked, the room seemed to grow. There was two staircases that wined opposite of eachother that lead to a platform and another winding staircase. In front of us, sat three gigantic black couches, and huge fireplace with a very large TV floating above it. I looked up to see a chandeliers that shined the same vibrant colors that I had seen in my visions before. The walls were all a shiny metallic grey, and there were strange looking statues and sculptures all around.
There were eight paintings on the wall, all in a row, with familiar faces on them. Margaret’s face appeared in the first one. Her blue tinted hair was pinned back in a bun, and her she wore the same soft smile she had in the diner. On her right temple was a blue, raindrop shaped birthmark similar to mine.
The next painting was of Nero; his jet black bangs with the white streak flows down in dark locks to his shoulders. His hard were harsh, but his smile was small; almost childlike and mischievous. On his left temple was a small, black, upside down triangle with rounded edges and a white dot in the middle.
Thomas’ hair, in his portrait, was spiky and pointed in all directions. His eyes were looking to the right, and his face was stern. On his left cheek, was a golden lighting bolt.
Wendline has the same blonde hair with light green streaks flowing throughout. Her eyes were open wide, and her smile was large, and inviting. On her right cheek lay a green swirling birthmark.
The next painting held Edgars large round face, and bold jaw. His brown hair was shaggy, and unkept. He had a large scar growing across his face, and on his left temple was a large, brown, oval shape.
I looked around at the next three; they were more startling than the first five. I saw myself, with scarlet red hair that went down to my ears. I saw my tan skin that glowed almost orange on the canvas. I looked into my familiar eyes and the smile that I had rarely worn in my life. Then the painting did something I will never forget: it turned it’s to the right, looking in the direction of a portrait of my mother. Her hair was as red as mine, her skin just as orange as mine. She had the same marking on her face as I did. Behind her, orange and red flames danced in the background. Her smile brought back the few, but vivid memories I had of her.
The last canvas was of a man that looked to be in his mid-twenties. His hair was long and white, but with a jet black streak.
of his right temple was a triangle with rounded edges and a black dot in the center. My voice whispered, “Bianco”, and “Teacher”.
I did not know what to make of what I just saw; especially the paintings of myself and my mother.
Thomas looked at me with a serious expression and said, “Robert, I know what you’re seeing may be a tad strange to you, but I can explain everything.” He had a subtle British accent, and his words came out like static. His golden eyes were so severe, I couldn’t help but look deeply into them. “Let my brother do it, Goleuo. No one can explain our history like he can, even with your superior intellect.”, a soft voice with a thick italian accent hummed from across the room. The voice belonged to Nero, he lounged on the arm of one of the oversized couches. “Let Bianco tell me”, I pleaded to Thomas. He looked at me with his harsh eyes, but they softened as I looked into them. He nodded and looked to Wendeline. “Take him to Bianco, Wendy.”
Without looking at him, she nodded, and gestured towards me to follow her. Her dark, green eyes were inviting. The color in her eyes was almost moving, like leaves blowing in the wind.
I followed her up the winding stairs, up the the second floor. The hallway was very open, large windows everywhere I looked. We walked down the hallway to a large white door. We were not even five feet away from it, when I slowly opened. A bright light shined from inside. I squinted my eyes, as not to be blinded.
“It’s ok, open your eyes. You won’t be blinded goofball.”, she laughed at me. She talked fast, with the same, but lighter accent than Thomas’. The room was large and all of the walls were white. Different types of strange technology laid around the room. Several computer screens, and TV monitors. There was racks, upon racks, and shelves upon shelves of scrolls and books. Each looked like they could be a thousand year old. Examining of these scrolls was a tall figure. He was dress in silver was white shoes, and I white shirt buttoning all the way up. His hair was pure white was a black streak was slicked back on her head. When he turned his face to look at me, I saw that was had to be Bianco, except her looked more modern than his picture. He has purple rings under his eyes, and his skin was flawlessly pale white. He looked at me, and smiled. Putting down the scroll he was reading, he strolled of to me, extending both arms. He nodded towards Wendeline, and looked directly in my eyes.
As he did, I saw a vision of the painting version of Bianco walking with the rest of us was a long wooden staff. He was a long flowing top, with flowy trousers that was concealed at the end with white boots.
I snapped back to reality when he grabbed my hand. He smiled at me as he spoke with the same italian accent as Nero: “Ecarlate, you have found our way home.”

Chp. 4
Bianco led me and Wendeline around the cabin, telling me about their history: my history. “
“My name, as your voice has told you, is Bianco. You have already met the others. I know you have lived a very normal life, but I am going to tell you something, dear boy. You are not normal. You are apart of the Guardian’s of Legend. The others, your mother, and I have walked the earth for 10,000 years. We have protected it from forces that mean to destroy it. We are immortal beings that will live for 10,000 more years, and beyond that.”
My jaw dropped at the information. Me? An immortal crime fighter? I couldn’t believe it. But I had to believe it. It had to be true.
Bianco continued: “About a thousand years ago, your mother left us for a time. As if to walk the earth for no reason. One day, while walking along a silent beach, you dropped in a blazing rush from the sun. And your mother caught you. When she returned, her reason for leaving was apparent: she left to give birth to you. Her body could not carry you, but the sun could. She said she felt as if she were giving birth just as the sun spit you out. You were her’s.
“She walked a thousand years to find us again, but as she did, she knew that her time was running out. Her flame was dying thousands of years before your birth, so she passed it on to you. She married your father so that he would raise you until you found us. You move was not spontaneous. It was planned.”
This baffled me; even my father knew that I was different. He kept this secret from me. I managed to get out, “Why did Nero call Thomas Goleuo? Why do you and Nero have your accents, but Thomas and Wendeline’s differ?”
“Nero, my brother, and I were born almost 50,000 years ago in what you know now as Italy. I was born from the first morning light, and walked the earth till something called me to return to the place of my birth”, he explained. “In the darkest of night, Nero fell from the black sky. I caught him. My voice told me that he was my brother. Though the others are our brethren, we are biologically related. I am the day, he is the night. I am the light that balances his darkness. The others were born this way, born of their elements.”
“Elements?”, I questioned. Bianco looked at me intensely. “Margaret, or Vatten, was born from the ocean. A tsunami rose on the banks of what is now Washington state, and my brother and I caught her. She has always been calm as the sitting sea, but very fierce like the raging whirlpool. Next, Edgar, or Marrom, shot out from the soil in Portugal. None of us caught him, though. He landed on his feet. He was strong when he was young; he could start an earthquake, yet calm a volcano from erupting.”
My voice was softly repeating, “Marrom...Edgar…friend.” Wendeline, Bianco, and I walked downstairs and joined the others. They were all lounging on the couch, and classical music played in the background. Bianco gestured towards Thomas and Wendeline. “We were called to the coast of Wales. There we found your mother, Ecarlatia, almost fully grown, carrying young Goleuo and Anadlau. She told us that she had been walking the earth around as long as I had and her voice called her to find the twins. They have a very strange relationship; one that brothers and sisters should indeed have: they argue intensely. They create storms when they do. Your mother said that a lightning bolt struck her hands, and there Thomas lay. Next, a strong wind rushed, and Wendeline flew into her arms.”
All of this was too much for me. My mother knowing that she was going to die, my father knowing what I really was. These people being my true family, this being my true home. I couldn’t take it. I looked around the room, at the paintings on the wall, at Bianco and Nero, at the rest of my “brethren”. I could not handle it. I turned around and marched towards the door. My voice screamed in my head, “STAY, ECARLATE, STAY!” My throat was burning. A fire was building inside of me. I couldn’t contain it anymore. I opened the door, and let out 1,000 years worth of pent up fire. The blaze formed into a savage inferno spewing from my mouth and nose. But, I felt amazing. It felt like a tremendous weight was lifted off of my shoulders. It felt as if I could do anything, and no matter how scared I was, I knew that I belonged here. That I was finally powerful, and where I could grow. My flame was beautiful, as well. I glowed bright orange, and scarlet, and had all different colors such as vibrant blues, and greens, and purples.
I turned around to see the whole group standing behind me. Bianco was standing behind Nero, who was significantly shorter than his older brother as well as the rest of the group. He was smiling at me, just as Margaret and Edgar were. Wendeline slapped her knee and trotted over next to me. “Why, that was astounding Ecarlate--I mean, um, Robby! Your mother really left you an incredible amount of her power. Being the hot head that she was, I was surprised to see that you made a flame bigger than anyone she ever made, and on your first try. You crazy bloke.”, she chuckled at me as she slapped me on the back. Though she slapped me so hard that it flung me forward a couple feet, I did not felt a thing.
Edgar then walked up to me, and looked at me with big brown eyes and told me in a deep, but soft voice, “We’re glad that you’re home, bud. We’ve been waiting. Now, go to your house and rest. We’re coming to get you tomorrow, to train.”