Kestral leaned casually against a nearby tree; Back straight against. He opened up the hard leather book and immediately immersed himself in the reading.

(abridged)

First it should be noted that the reader should have a previous understanding of what fire really is and it's process and function as a chemical reaction before he or she attempts understanding it as a reactant of magical manipulation.

As each of us know, fire is the most standard chemical reaction we use today in society. Carbon stored in biological or non-biological forms such as wood or coal respectively, react with oxygen whenever put under intense, even if minute, heat.

Such a thing is endlessly useful to anyone that can repeatedly afford the action, or find the materials around to make it happen.

But this isn't about how well one can do with two flint rocks and a pile of twigs. We shall delve into the magical manipulation and creation of simple combustion, which can prove more difficult than first thought.

First, one understands the equation of combustion. C + O2 → CO2

Any pure carbon substance is likely to use this equation,or variations thereof. Most substances actually use a form of hydrocarbons, but focusing on the carbon aspects is the only real necessity in traditional Flame magic. One should be careful in what chemicals are actually created, as some can be toxic and should be used carefully.

Magical manipulation of a fluid is simple in concept, but sometimes more difficult in practice. As one sends mana(1) through the fluid of choice, one can change the atoms of the substance en mass, so long as they are identifiable as the same.

An example of this is having a container of carbon monoxide, and carbon dioxide. Each made of carbon and oxygen, but in different ratios. Sending exactly one spell through the whole fluid would prove useful on breaking down or combining one, but not the other. (Advanced dual manipulation is in a further chapter for the more adept.)

Moving along. To change a fluid one must understand what is being changed. Assuming we know the equation, we simply must focus on it, and force through the energy required to perform.

As we force our mana through the particles, the compounds resonate with our magic, and break down into smaller compounds or atoms. For the sake of combustion, we must use CO2 as our fluid of choice. The air from ones breath is enough to use, or any air in a large city will do. A noticeable drop in temperature in the air is frequent and is a sign of successful conversion.(Conservation between magical and thermal energy is explained in later chapters.)

Once one does that, maintain control over the fluid. The gas is now the perfect fuel to start a fire. Use magic once more, and imagine the gas heating up. The magic will frustrate the carbon until a natural flame has been started. This entire process can be done in mere milliseconds by adept magicians.

Challenge for the novice: Attempt to continually do this process, and make a sustained flame.

(1) Mana: Raw magical energy. Though used in many scientific contexts, this word has yet to enter a dictionary and is still considered a slang term. Derived from a mythical plant that produced food of the same name.

Kestral closed the hard leather cover and rubbed his eyes, partly from slight frustration that he may have wasted a good thirty minutes at least of his life. “Alright,” he said, “so I read the book. Or at least the basics. What exactly do you want me to do with this information?”

“Hold out your hand, palm up.”

Kestral humored him with the action lazily. “Okay. And?”

The voice pondered for a second. “I want you to focus on creating that fire in the air, just above the center of your palm.”

Kestral rolled his eyes. “You don't honestly think I can do magic, do you? Even if I could wouldn't it need months of practice?”

The voice scoffed. “Just do this for me, I need to see what happens.”

He rolled in his fingers momentarily to pop them, and moved them back to their outstretched position. He thought about the fire for just a split second before a fireball as wide as his palm, and as bright as a lantern, emerged right where instructed.

“Huh, well look at that. I really didn't think I could do that.” He used his free hand to feel around the fire. For some reason, the temperature under the fire did not drop like the book said it should. But the fire was fueled nonetheless.

The semi-friendly voice was muted for a moment or so, before it bore upon Kestral curious words. “Now that...was definitely different. Simply wonderful.”

“Hmm? Care to elaborate?” Kestral held out his free hand in the same fashion his other was.

“Well to start,” he said, “you didn't even focus on how the fire was made, or how it functions. You simply thought 'fire' and poof, you have fire.”

He focused on moving the fire from one hand to the next. Slowly the flame progressed to it's goal. “I'm not sure I like the idea of you reading my mind.” he stated bluntly.

“I'll do it when needed, but no time else. Promise.”

“Fine. So what's so wonderful about me doing this?” Kestral focused on the flame between his hands, and tried to make it swirl around a bit.

“Like I said a moment ago, you simply thought fire and made fire. You didn't focus much, but that is what is odd. It seems that you don't need the extensive knowledge to use magic. What's daunting is that you seem to only need the basic principles known and you can perform the spell as good as an experienced user of the spell.”

“Wow,” he said, “didn't realize you needed that much to use magic.”

“That is not the only thing that is odd about this.” He continued. “Whenever a unicorn uses a spell, he or she has an aura. A colored light around the focus, whatever yours is, and the target. Yours is only around the fire, and is only a slight shimmer.”

Kestral followed his words carefully as he looked toward the fire. Sure enough, a very slight bend in the light was present, though he couldn't tell if it really was his magic, or just heat from the flames. "Is that good, or bad?" He asked.

"Well." he paused. "It means your magic is quite weak. Still worth having, though."

He flicked on another flame, and made the two swirl around each other in an odd sort of dance. He didn't say anything, so the voice continued.

“I'm finding many odd things about this. I will have to theorize on it a bit. First though, I want you to lift up your sleeve. Left side.”

He decided not to question him this time and went to move his sleeve. As he did so he noticed one of the circles was very different. It was filled in. Huh. He thought. He observed the shape closely, which seemed to resemble that of a small flame with some of it whisking off toward his hand but stopping at the circles edge.

“As I suspected.” The voice chimed in.

Kestral waited for a moment, to see if the voice would elaborate on the previous words. When it did not, he pressed on. “and that is?”

“Oh, yes,” as if the voice had all but forgotten his audience, “I sensed the connection between the marks on your arm and your mind earlier. When you performed the magic, it put the spell you now know on your arm. What you are looking at,” he paused, “is an empty library of spells.”

Kestral took a few moments to take it all in, letting the implications sink in. “So wait. If I learn enough to use another spell, it'll just pop on here in a moments notice, just to remind me that I have it?”

The voice huffed in irritation. “I'm still not sure why it is there, but that seems to be the case nonetheless. Before you go off trying to learn a bunch of magic, know this; There are a great many more spells that exist than there are circles on your arms and chest.”

“So...I can only know so many at a time? What happens if I fill it up and learn another? Do I just forget the oldest one or something?”

“I'm not sure,” he said reluctantly, “It is something I’ll have to look into. I'll be able to tell you more after I observe it.” The voice let off a small groan. “Ugh, I’m getting a small headache from this telepathy spell.” The voice complained. “Listen, I need to cut off the spell for a while. You can steal or hunt your food, whatever you prefer. Just, whatever you do, make sure you don't get caught. We cannot have you be seen yet, it will make both of our lives significantly more difficult. I will be back when I can.”

Right before the soft hum disappeared, Kestral called out, “Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Before you go, I need to ask. What's your name?”

Before the voice faded out, it bluntly told him his name, void of emotion. “Discord.” And as soon as it was said, the voice was gone completely.

I'll take care to remember that.

With silence now enveloping the immediate area, Kestral decided to check out the town that the forest was bordering. He steadily walked toward the edge that he had been stopped from crossing earlier. As he neared it, he decided he would not be needing the book in his hand, so solemnly placed it leaning up against a tree's base.

When he was done he observed the quaint town with curiosity. To him it certainly had a unique style to it. The wooden houses with angled hay roofs gave a poor medieval feel to him, but the fact that the roads and yards were tightly kept seemed to contradict the poverty idea. A few good landmarks could be seen in the distance, most simply being over sized wooded architecture. The roads themselves were just grassy areas that had been worn down due to frequent trafficking.

The ponies themselves seemed to fit right into the place. Several were piling their goods back to homes, to be sold another day, perhaps. The rough carts seemingly glided over the potholes and mounds that occasionally littered a spot in the path. Pegasai flew around, moving clouds around casually, as if it is completely normal. Children, or at least what he thought were children, were being called up by parents to eat their evening meals. The sun had set a while ago, and the moon was making its ascent up the sky. The entire town seemed to be so trusting.

In the thick scent of wild vegetation, one could make out the distant sweet nectar that was food in the air. The smell of it sent his taste buds off as his mouth watered for home-cooked meals long forgotten since his first days on the run. Though he wished to set off immediately and take some food like a fox, he heeded Discord's words carefully. So far, he had been right, and that was enough for Kestral to trust him on this one suggestion; Don't get caught.

He looked around the border of the town for a path with plenty of cover. The road itself had a few houses, but several had lights on, proving the owners were home. A few seemed to be empty, but the vacation of them was surely going to be short lived. Towards the left of the road, there were a few empty lots, with a couple half-finished houses on either side of them. Not a great place to get food, but perfect for staying over night should the need arise. Veering off to the right, a row of houses had their lights off, void of waking life.

From his immediate area, that direction was his best bet to getting in without notice. So onward he went with haste. He purposely ran parallel to the forest until his run to the middle vacant house was a perpendicular line, as to cut off as much time in the open as possible. When he figured it was a good time to go, he made a straight shot towards the house, staying low – which was not easy given he had a rifle inside his coat – and dodging a handful of holes in the ground. When he made it to the edge of the back yard, he easily vaulted over the wooden fence, which only came up to his waist.

Once inside, he bolted for the door, and stopped right next to it, back against the planks of oak, panting slightly from the sudden burst of exercise. He looked around and listened for anything suspicious. The lights around him were still off, no one was screaming 'intruder', and he heard no hoofsteps, so he assumed the coast was clear. He turned to the door and leaned a bit, given it was shorter than him, and tried the knob.

Damn. When the knob failed to move for him he realized that moving into the house would be more difficult than not being seen. He cursed his luck a bit. Small towns like this tended to be more trusting, and people would make it easy for him by not locking doors, or by keeping a window open.

Well... It was a bad stereotype to play off of, but looking under a welcome mat for a spare key has proven to be useful before, so he decided that it was worth a try. He moved swiftly around the corner of the home, and immediately turned back, in fear of having been seen. What he saw was a tan colored 'pony' picking up mail from his mailbox. He couldn't see many details, but he saw enough to know that the owner had come home and was about to enter the house.

He moved right at the corner and peaked his head around to see what became of the pony. His eyes saw no trace, but his ears had made out the sound of a door slamming in the vicinity. With his secrecy confirmed, he made swift movement towards the front. Two windows were passed on his way forward, one in the middle on the first floor, and the second just above it. As the end of the house came up on his right he could hear the bottom window open up with conviction, which sent him in no great panic, but did fluster him enough to strike the corner with his metal tipped foot.

Upon looking back from the corner, he saw the window wide open, with the sound of pumping water resounding from it. Well at least I know where he is. He thought. With vigor he went to the front door and looked beneath himself. There was indeed a welcome mat, with a coat of arms upon it depicting a hoof stepping on a snake and the snake biting the leg above the hoof, so he flipped it over halfway and...

Nothing...shoulda guessed. He looked around the front door, but nothing else was able to hide a key. Since nothing else came to mind, he pondered at the door for a moment. He did just get here, what if I just... He reached out for the knob and, to his relief, it turned all the way. But instead of going inside, he quickly closed the door and backed up. He jogged around the house, back to the window, and crouched under it. Slowly, he inched his head up until he could make a good view of what it was.

It was a real homey bathroom. Mahogany cabinets set on the far wall next to a full sized mirror that stretched to the ground. A rug lied on the ground, covering the tiles floor from the tub that sat under the window, to the mirror on the other side. A walk-in closet sat on the left side, towards the front door, while on the right, a door that seemed to lead into a bedroom was present. Candles spotted the floor near the corners, keeping the room lit. Kestral observed the bath tub under him. Next to it was a bottle of wine, a full glass, and a book labeled “The Nightlight Sega”. More importantly, inside the bathtub was the stallion Kestral had seen earlier. Luckily for Kestral, his eyes were closed.

He was able to identify it as a stallion because he chose to lay on his back, and the water still had a ways to rise.

He shook his head. Can't blame him. Must feel nice. When he did what scoping out he could, he decided to move up to the front door again. He chose to enter now instead of breaking in another time, because it looked like the stallion will be tied up for a while. He would simply need to be quiet. He rubbed any dirt off at the welcome mat, to make sure his boots wouldn't squeak on any hard floors inside, and slowly pushed the door open. He had to duck to get in, but the ceiling was high enough for him to stand tall, even if barely.

The inside was not very well lit. Only a gas lantern at the front and back doors provided light, and they were not very bright, even in the darkness of the night. He decided that this would be a good time to test his new spell in the field. He snapped his left hand, and just above his finger appeared a small flame, the same size a lighter would produce. He realized that the gesture had nothing to do with how the spell worked, but he felt compelled to do it nonetheless.

With a new light source, he moved around to get a feel for the setup. A formal dining room was immediately to the left, with expensive looking oaken furniture scattered about. Directly to his right a door with unknown contents was present on the wall facing him. On the far side, near the back door was random furniture towards the left, and another open door to the right, with a soft sound of water coming from it.

Further along the left wall was what he was looking for; The kitchen. The stove was at the wall, next to the related cookware, while the sink and cleaning supplies were on a wall that was stuck between the two walls that were seemingly the same room before the divide. In the middle of the kitchen was a counter top that was connected to a rather large cabinet that went to the ceiling.

Freaking JACKPOT! Kestral moved excitedly into the kitchen, but tried not to clank his boots on the tile floor, which was an oddity against the rest of the floor's carpet. He thrust open the cabinet to find good amounts of food sitting within.

Let's see...bread,muffins, half-eaten box of cupcakes, pastries, corn, beets, turnips...bundles of wheat? Whatever. Garlic, onions, carrots, veggie, veggie, veggie. He grabbed a whole carrot and started snacking on it quietly. Oh, fresh apples, don't mind if I do! He opened his satchel up and placed two shiny, red apples into the clean side. Let's see. What else? Oranges, bananas, a pineapple, an empty coconut with shavings in the middle, tortilla chips, but no avocado to make some guacamole? Pshh. Whatever. A pota- POTATO! YES!

He snatched it up greedily, placing the spud in his satchel, and continued. Stuff, things, chemicals, sugar, chocolate chips, and...a brown paper bag. He went to open the sack to discover that it was entirely filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Holy yes, that is mine now! He shoved it on top of the potatoes and apples, filling up much of the room in his bag. With just a little room left, and not much else interesting in the cabinet, he took some carrots and fitted them in aside the cookies and his mass supply of Slim Jims.

With food supply taken care of, he decided to take a moment to check out any drinks there may be. He shifted his feet around, checking each of the other cabinets that were around the kitchen. It wasn't until he reached the last one that he found a large number of bottles with labels detailing the amount of alcohol. Wine was mostly what he found there, the only other kind being a strong vodka. Since Kestral never was a heavy drinker, he decided to take a random wine bottle, unopened. He held it in his hand since his bag was full, and he didn't want to get caught with his backpack off.

With necessities taken care of, he decided to look around for a key he can use to get back in at a later time. He strolled over towards the front door, and looked around for anything useful. Several hooks were present on the wall under the dimly lit lantern, but were void of anything but a dark chocolate fedora that had gathered a good amount of dust. Guess my good luck streak ends a bit short. Since the pony was going to nowhere in all likeliness, he decided he had a bit of a chance to look around more for that key.

He walked with silence to the back door, and extinguished the flame floating in front of him, just in case the pony could see the light it gave off. He passed a couch and some rather wide chairs that were pointed at a brick fireplace. When he got to the back wall, he got up next to the door of what he thought would be a bedroom. He was able to confirm it was a bedroom when he peaked his head around the corner. A simple bed with covers were an oddity out of the more elaborated decorations of the jewels and swords that dotted the walls.

Whether or not any were real or used was a matter for another day. The door to the bathroom was open ajar, but not enough for one to see through it unless one was to be right next to it. A single nightstand was next to the bed, and a display case with more trinkets was on the other side. He moved into the room, and next to the nightstand. Right there was the key, on the top next to a candle. He grabbed it with thankfulness that is was so easy to find, and moved away, towards the back door.

He quickly, and steadily, unlocked the door and moved out the house, closing it, but not locking it solely out of apathy. He took a single step forward, towards the forest, when another painfully loud opening of a homes passage startled him more than he would ever admit. The sound had come from the left so he immediately burst to the right and around the corner, attaching himself to the edge of the same wall he had spied the bathing pony from. He peaked his head around and took in the scene.

A pink unicorn with a more red mane had burst through the door and started smoking a cigarette with conviction, puffing out a large plume of smoke every once in a while. On her flank was some sort of mark, but Kestral couldn't tell what it was. The pony seemed to be trying to inhale the cancer-stick as much as possible with every breath. Either from addiction or stress, Kestral couldn't tell, but there was apparently great need of that smoke.

He knew he couldn't wait where he was for very long. He had to find another way towards his preserve in the forest. He looked toward the front of the house and started moving in that direction. As he moved past the window, he could hear the stallion moan slightly. “Ooohhh midnight, you sexy cougar.” This made him double-time it away from the window and toward the street. As he hit the edge of the house, he made sure to sweep the street with his eyes.

Aside from two ponies, who's armor glistened silver in the moonlight, walking directly down the middle of the street toward his direction, no one else was visibly present. He watched the two officials with interest. One of them had a pair of leathery wings, while the other was blank of such features. Both had shiny silver armor that gave them an air of importance, and a blank look on each one's face gave an air of absolute boredom.

With both walking towards Kestral's direction of the street, and the pony next door probably still smoking, he laid himself at the ground, right at the corner's edge, and pressed his body against the wood. After that, he threw his hood over, giving him an all black look from their angle. Though he looked incredibly stupid at the time, it is a trick he learned to do when he needed to hide in plain sight. The trick, in an environment that one is not able to hide in more conventional areas, is to make one's self seem as small and unrecognizable as possible. Typically, it helps significantly to have a piece of foliage in front of one's self, but Kestral did not have such a thing on him. At the distance he was at, they would probably have thought him an odd rock or piece of lumber.

Given the fact that their eyes seemed to be angled out to the side, rather than forward, he could tell their peripheral vision would sweep across him at some point. His only hope right then was that his plan would work.

The winged one decided to break the silence, as was his ritual. “Hey.”

The wingless one refocused on his friend, instead of the fact that he can swear he felt spinach in his teeth. “Yeah?”

The winged one gave a moment of pause, in order to properly asses how he would say the next, extremely important words that he had given much thought over the past hour. “Have you ever wondered why we're he-”

“Shut it.” The earth pony cut him off. “You ask me that question every damn night. Ask me something else for once.”

The bat-pony decided to take another moment, and asked an entirely new question. “Have you ever felt like you were being watched?”

The pony did not reply immediately. “...what do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “that throughout these dark roads and dimly lit streets, with only street lanterns and the moonlight to guide us, someone could be stalking us at any time and we wouldn't know it.”

“Biggest load of crap I’ve heard. We're the Nightguard! If anyone can navigate in darkness without being seen, it's us and no pony else.” The Earth pony retorted.

“Okay, look,” The winged one stopped and pointed at a black object, on the corner of a house, just inside the shadow of the house opposite the gap. “if that were an assassin, we wouldn't even know, because it blends in with shadows.”

“That's dog shit. It isn't an assassin, it's just a...a uh, rock or something.” After denying it, he added, “If you want to prove it's an assassin, go up and bring me back his body.”

The bat-wing replied, “Uhm, no, I’d rather not face the legal consequences of having stepped in an enclosed property without justification.”

The other just starting walking off again. “Chicken.”

“Am not!” He followed heartily.

“Oh that's right, you don't have feathers... You're just a little baby bat-ling.”

Kestral watched silently as the two walked off in a very argumentative manner. With his freedom assured for the moment, he got back up onto his feet, and wiped off his front side of excess dirt. Bottle in hand, he went back towards the back again, just to check if the smoker had left yet. To his surprise, he or she had gone back in just as he peaked his head around, leaving him in peace at the corner of the house...

Which he immediately used to his advantage. After looking around the houses for a minute or so, he opted to go, because he didn't see anything else possibly happening to increase his chance of not being seen on the open plain between where he was standing and where he needed to be.

He jogged over to the fence, and jumped high enough to land a foot on the top, then jumped again off that, but at a more forward angle. After landing, he took off faster than he did before, but he did so without crouching any, making him a tall target for spotters, though he then realized it wouldn't matter much in the open like this. When he finally reached the forest edge he looked back at the house he came from, and took due note of it's surrounding area, so he'd remember it later.

While walking a bit deeper into the forest at a slow pace – deep enough to not be seen from the town – he looked at the bottle of wine in his hand, reading some french name on the front. With a relaxed smile on his face, he popped the cork and held it in his hand as he dug through his satchel to find one of the apples.

With alcohol in one hand, and fruit in the other, he extended his arms and leaned on a tree. “And this, is a brave, new world.”

…

…

…

Damn I miss listening to Thirty Seconds to Mars.

“Alright. Fine.” The bat-pony said. “I'll go check it out. Just shut up.”

Right before he left, he heard his earth pony friend call out the words, “don't die of the pirates on the way there!”

His leathery wings unfurled and he launched off the ground, sailing low through the air back towards the house with the unknown object. It was short, only a few houses back from his friend. He landed just inside of the house's fencing. He went closer to the corner of the house, only to realize that it was no longer there.

“What? Where is it?”

If he had been focusing in the direction of the Everfree forest, he would have been able to spot a tall figure making it's escape at the edge of the foliage. But unfortunately for him, he did no such thing. With nothing to do, he made a hasty retreat towards his comrade, who was waiting patiently for him.

“And it's...?” He asked with a contented smile on his face

“...gone.”

The smile faded. “Gone?”

“Yup. No longer there.”

“...”

“...”

“This does not count as evidence that it was an assassin.”

“Fine by me, mate.”