A young Caelum followed after his father into the enclosed area of their outdoor park, two of his little siblings, the youngest the age of six (which is, apparently, the age which you begin participating in this hellish competition) followed in his his tail.

They stopped in the usual area — the characteristic oxogen stone pattern beneath his feet, the smooth blue and red swings behind them and that familiar smell of freshly cut grass. The only flammable this stands behind their old man — a wall of tall bushes — though that doesn’t worry him as the three brothers now stand in a horizontal line, all facing their father, though not daring to meet his eyes. Not now.

His veiny and calloused hand reached into one of the inner pockets of the expensive leather jacket he was currently wearing, retrieving a lighter.

The thing about this lighter, however, is that it definitely looked like the normal kind you could buy at a café in case you forgot yours to light your cigarette — but whatever was inside it, whatever was altered in its composition, makes its flame *enormous*. It was almost admiring how his father had never burned himself because of it. At least accidentally.

With a quick motion of his thumb, it lit up.

The flame stood higher than the length of his fingers, and it was almost as thick as his thumb. The old man’s, by the way.

No words were needed to explain what was to happen next. Except maybe for the younger boy. But Caelum didn’t.

Starting from the smallest boy, already trembling from the fear of the unknowing, his father took a step towards him.

“Put your arm out, boy.” The older man roughly commanded. Caelum had certainly inherited the scratchiness in his voice from his father, unfortunately.

The soft boy flinched, before obeying. His skin was still silky and smooth, all one colour. Oh, how Caelum wished his forearm still looked so.

The flame didn’t take long to approach the young boys arm. His arm shook away as soon as the contact was made, a small red mark quickly making itself present on the pale skin as well as the tears rushing to his eyes.

Then he moved on to the one standing between the youngest and the eldest, Finn. Finn already knew what he had to do.

He pulled away his sleeve, revealing a few couple dozen of scars decorating his forearm.

The flame didn’t take long to make contact with his skin once again. He winced, though forced himself to stay still. That didn’t stop the tears glazing his eyes.

After a couple of seconds, the flame pulled away. The boy let out a heavy breath, bending to his knees as he held near the freshly made blister.

Last but not least, Caelum. When his father turned his gaze to the eldest male, the sleeve of his hoodie was already pushed back to his shoulder. It was littered with burns, some still a fresh red, others still healing, but most already scars.

The fire went up against the skin of his wrist, quickly damaging it.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even react.

Some seconds laters, the lighter shut, and the flame was now gone.

“Your mother will be very sad hearing you’re not eating the dinner she spent so long on, Oliver,” The old man spoke, not even sparing Caelum a final glance. “How disappointing.”

And with that, he stuffed the lighter back into the just big enough pocket inside his jacket before striding away and back into their house.

Once he finally passed the sliding glass door,, Caelum pulled his sleeve back up before tending to the boy beside him, not sat on the ground as he let the tears flow.

“You already know to come to my room after dinner.” Caelum simply said, the boy nodding in confirmation not long after.

From where their father had disappeared, two little girls appeared from within, peeking their heads out before running at the three boys at full speed.

“Caelum! Caelum!!” One of them clumsily called out, Aurora, jumping onto the oldest boys torso, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

The other, little than a year older than the other girl, sat down beside Finn, offering curious eyes as she took him in.