Indistinct screaming, figures whizzing past, the colors red and orange. It looked like fire. But there was no heat.
The next thing he knew he was on his bed, alone in a cold stone room in the castle. He wasn't royalty but their family comes pretty close. And his room resembled more like a dungeon than an actual room. They lived in a huge stone manor in the northern part of United Kingdom, near Scotland and he called it the Lord's castle; that's what he called his father, Lord Rowe, because never did he feel like a son to this family. He was being treated as an apprentice, a student, an heir but never a son. He wasn't even allowed to have friends. Can't leave, talk ,look...live. At least, like a normal person should. Then again, he's not really under that category.
"Trust is like money, you never give it away without an equal price," he would always hear his father say.
Trust is something he can't give away because there was nobody to give it to. He can never leave the castle on his own, never to talk to anyone unless approved by the Lord. His world, his crowd was this. This castle, with his so-called family along with a dozen servants who's afraid of him.
They had a reason to be afraid of him.
He woke up, sweat dotted his forehead, some slivering down the bridge of his nose and he can see it glisten as moonlight touches his skin.
It was a weird way to wake up in the middle of a freezing night, even more weird since he never really sweats.
All these years alone, he has finally earned his father's trust to be able to go out into the world and actually mingle, socialize or whatever it is they call it. He didn't have a clue. But what was that dream? A warning or a reminder?
A reminder that someone like him should not be let out loose into the world. A reminder that he was dangerous.
"Great," he thought. This was his chance to finally somehow breakfree of his father's grip. Why did his past fears have to resurface now?
He stood up and shook the remnants of his dream from his mind. He tried thinking of what it's going to be like with his cousin and his family. Being around with a different set of people. No dungeon-like room, warm weather... He was feeling better already.
He knew he shouldn't... he was forbidden to...but he can't help it. It was a part of him, no matter how hard they try or he tries to ignore and remove that part, he just can't. He looked at his fireplace, traces of last night's flame were gone and not even the smell of it could be discerned.
He looked down and out the window. He then closed his eyes and thought, he couldn't wait to leave this place. Even if it were just for a short while. The heat and freedom: Liberty. He kept saying it over and over again in his mind to drown out his fears. He can control it, he had to...he can.
He opened his eyes and a fire was set ablaze in the dying embers of his fireplace. He kept looking out the window, as if daring and challenging an invisible force to interfere with his pending escape from the cold, suffocating clutch of the Lord, a fire with greater intensity than that he created, reflected in his eyes.