The Flame Keeper

Chapter 9

"Can you take the matchbox out for me?" Ken's head lolled from side to side, and bits of saliva stuck to his cracked, bloody lip. "Backpack, front pocket."

"Matchbox..." I stared at him, incredulous, but when he didn't crack a smile or laugh, I complied. The matchbox was coated in dust and bits of hair as I fished it out of the backpack, and I handed it to Ken. With trembling fingers, he carefully flipped the top of the matchbox out and pulled out a match, scraping it on the side of the box to reveal a small flame that quivered in the wind.

And then, Ken took the match and gently placed it on the tip of his index finger, letting the flame consume his flesh. I gasped, taken aback at what he was doing, but he laughed again like when I first inhaled the vapor.

I studied him closely and his features seemed more prominent now, his eyes clearer, and his posture straighter. Even the cracks in his lips had started to close.

"You know how I was talking about the mana pool?" Ken said. "Well, in short, it's what allows you and I and every mage to do what they do."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words.

"The thing is, it's not infinite. You can spend years, decades even, training to build up its capacity, but you can never go too long with replenishing it."

"What happens if you don't?"

Ken glanced away for a moment, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "You suffer the fate of mana starvation. In other words, you die a slow and painful death as your body consumes itself in its last efforts to stay alive."

We sat there, silent, before it suddenly dawned on me that Ken could have died in the rail yard. His tattered appearance wasn't only a result of the attacks, but also a depletion of his mana pool. I felt guilt creep into my cheeks and I sat there feeling a sense of helplessness.

Ken must have noticed my somber expression and seemed to read my mind. "You know, the only thing that matters is that we're alive. The past is what it is, but be grateful that the present is here."

I said nothing as I thought about my past, shrouded in mystery, and the restaurant. Dwelling only on the past would be a deadly mistake, but focusing only on the present and future wouldn't show the full picture.

I turned to my right, where Ken sat. The match he had taken was almost extinguished, its flame desperately eating at the disintegrating match head, and he pulled another one out after tossing the remains of the match to the side.

He caught my peering eyes and lit the match, tossing it straight to me. I cringed, shut my eyes, and put my hands in front of me as if they would protect me from the flame. To my utmost surprise, the match bounced harmlessly off my hands and onto the ground where the wet planks snuffed it out immediately.

"What in the world..." I sat there, slack-jawed, unable to put into words what I had just witnessed.

Ken smirked, and slid another match out of the box, giving it a quick scrape on the side. He lightly pressed his finger against the flame, which seemingly started to be absorbed by his flesh, as if it were water and his finger was a sponge. "It's not much but it's efficient and gives you a quick boost to your mana pool."

Still terribly confused, Ken just tossed the match to me again, the flame casting eerie shadows along the car wall as it landed on my palm. Strangely enough, though I had seen it with Ken, the match simply sat on my hand, inflicting not pain but pleasure almost. Before I even looked down, the flame had completely dissipated, leaving only a match coated in ash.

I felt rejuvenated, as if I had dipped myself into a hot spring and sat there for hours on end listening to the sounds of nature and immersing myself in the emptiness of my mind.