The obsidian throne room stretched endlessly into shadow, its dark walls reflecting dancing flames. Eldo sat uneasily on the throne while a tall figure in an immaculate butler's suit stood beside him.
"Are you sure this is the right thing to do, Malachi?" Eldo asked, his voice echoing through the vast chamber.
"Of course, young master," Malachi replied, his dignified tone carrying a hint of warmth. "With you upon this throne, you'll have the power to make the world a better place. Unlike Barbaros, you can use this power to govern and protect the world rather than enslave it."
He paused, placing a gentle hand on Eldo's shoulder. "It's what your uncle Samuel would have wanted."
Eldo's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his uncle. "How long have you known my uncle, Malachi?"
A small smile crossed the butler's face as he looked down at the boy. "For many years, little one."
"Now quit asking me these same foolish questions," Malachi said, his dignified demeanor cracking slightly. "I know you have your doubts, but it is your duty, you have to understand."
His normally composed voice took on an edge of frustration. "You have to work on controlling that hellish flaming form of yours. As it stands now, you do not have what it takes to rule over this palace let alone govern the world."
"You are what's known as an Elemental," Malachi explained, his voice low and unwavering. "From what you told me before, that meteorite—it changed you. It rewrote your very blood. Most mortals, they're just flesh and bone, but Elementals... you produce energy-charged cells that intermingle with the rest of you. That's why you can do what you do—why your fire doesn't burn you alive. Why you survived the first time at all."
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing in fascination. "In all my years, I've never once seen another Elemental from Earth standing in front of me. That's why you—why you must take Samuel's place. It's not just chance. It's necessity."
Eldo shook his head, confusion and anger mingling in his voice. "How could I be the first elemental you've seen? My uncle—he had this power too! There must be others—"
Malachi's lips curled into a faint, almost pitying smile. "If it weren't for me, you'd have never seen Samuel again after all these years." His gaze grew distant, haunted. "I cured him, Eldo. I did. But the price of that cure was Barbaros, the spirit was the cure, and the curse. That power inside him."
Eldo's whole body went rigid. His mind reeled. "You— You're saying it was you? You saved him, but it was because of—" He sucked in a shakey breath, the reality crashing down. "All this time, it was you..."
Malachi nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "You see it now? Samuel was never strong enough to control Barbaros, not really. But he thought he could handle it. He chose to bear it—he chose to bear that vile spirit just for a chance to see his nephew again."
Eldo stared at the floor, voice trembling. "He told me the same thing. Before he—" He broke off, trying to steady his breath. The weight of the truth settled on him, burning hotter than any flame.
Malachi's tone softened, not quite gentle. "The throne, the palace, now rests in your hands, don't let it go to waste..."
Eldo didn't answer. His fists clenched at his sides, fire flickering between his knuckles—no longer just power, but pain, and the memory of a debt he never asked for.