T he flames leap and flicker hiss and spit. Ramon gazes entranced.
He watches as in a shower of scarlet sparks the oak suddenly folds in on itself and the door collapses.
The entrance to the store room is like the charred gaping maw of a dragon. He only has to step through and he will be able to search for the documents of his birth; somewhere in there is a record of his ancestry. But the burning timber catches a table leg the fire spreads upward.
He steps inside. In one part of his mind he registers the heat the searing of his skin; a droplet of sweat falls down from his face and lands on his hand. But his body feels distant he is hypnotized by yellow and orange and scarlet. A table leg. A pile of books. The acrid smell of smoke and burning and the animal scent of parchment and dried ink. His eyes sting and tear but he simply stands watching and waiting. There is no fear inside him only an eerie calm.
