Fire was such a greedy, selfish beast. And Sicero knew it too well. He knew its warm kisses and searing bites. Many days he'd play with it, coax small embers from glass and dried leaves, watch them flicker and dance, and squash them before they could finish their meal. He learned all the fires secrets and committed its beauty to mind, so he could recreate it using memory alone.

Sicero dipped his brush in the orange paint and accented the heart of the flames with small careful strokes. Then he blended the orange with the reds and yellows, and with the inky black where the flames sunk their teeth into the wood houses.

At last the painting was refreshed, and he gazed up at the fruits of his labour. A glorious mural of a not so glorious night. The night he met beasts even more greedy and selfish than fire: the netherborne.

Their silhouettes rampaged through the burning buildings unimpeded. Memories of their screams, their stench, their stomping footfalls. They were crude, primitive, lacking the grace and wavering beauty of the flames they'd created. Fire didn't hate or love, it was as indifferent as the wind, going about its business with little care for who or what got in its way. But not the netherborne. Their destruction was deliberate, their vendetta hateful, and no amount water quelled their rampage.

He took his eyes off the beasts and focused on the center of the piece. The shadowed humanoid figure flying above all the destruction. The one who'd brought the netherborne to this world and damned all of humanity.

"Night-Blooming Rose." Sicero tipped his chair back to get a better view of the monster who'd taken everything from him. Its green eyes glowed and moonlight glinted off the polished flute poised at its lips. Black wings framed its formed, the feathers accented with hair-thin strokes of silver.

Even now, over two hundred years later, Sicero could hear its song, smell the scent of rose petals mixing with smoke. He didn't need to study the monster like the fire, one glimpse and its image had been burned into his memory—so much so that he could paint it with his eyes closed.

If only he could remember the face of his saviour too. The one who'd whisked him from the calamity, the one who'd sang so sweetly and soothed his ails. He wanted to paint her as well, but when he tried to imagine her face, his mind came up with vague, shadowy details.

Perhaps she'd been a dream, or a hallucination conjured by his panicked mind. He'd been but a boy at the time, and his imagination ran wanton and free like an unchecked blaze.

Sicero turned away from the mural and his memories, and a familiar sound reached his ears. The patter of small feet, the rustle of cloth, the sounds of youth. He pretended not to hear them and walked to the opposite end of the gallery where tapestries adorned the walls.

"Do you think he saw us?" one child asked in a hushed whisper.

"I don't know," the other said.

"He was talking to himself again. It's so weird."

"Do you think something's wrong with him? Should we be worried?"

Sicero took a deep breath to quell his rising irritation and walked towards the gallery's exit, keeping his footfalls light. As he breached the threshold the children yelped, but he grabbed them by their collars before they could run away. "Didn't I send you two to bed?"

"Sorry, Lord Sicero," Tallis, the younger of the two said. His glasses sat lopsided on his round face, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

"We were trying to sleep, but we kept hearing strange noises." Lyra inched away from him as much as his grip would allow, the tome she insisted on carrying everywhere clutched tight to her chest. Her eyes darted about like a startled prey's and a quiver laced her voice.

Sicero let them go, and they kept their gaze on their toes as though they were expecting a vicious tongue lashing for their wayward behaviour. "All right," he said, keeping his voice gentle. Be it far from him to punish anyone for being afraid in times such as these. He placed a hand on each of their heads and guided them down the quiet hall. "I'll see what's causing the noise."

"But what if it's a netherborne?" Tallis asked, glancing around as though he expected one to jump out at them.

Sicero shrugged. "Then I'll take care of it."

"But what if it's a big one?" Lyra whispered, as though she shared Tallis' fears. "They're so scary."

"Indeed they are. But I'm scarier."

Their shoulders relaxed, and they smiled up at him, his show of arrogance seeming to allay their fears. But it was all a farce. He was just as afraid—if not more so—of the netherborne. He was afraid that he wouldn't be strong enough to stop them, to protect those he cared about.

But most of all, he was afraid of that night repeating itself.