The forest died, and was replaced by a desolate ice-locked landscape, rocky and snow-covered. But on a cave-dotted cliff face, tiny fires burned brightly.

“Fire allowed the first humani to cook their kills, and made it easier for them to digest the nutrients from the meat they hunted. It kept them warm and safe in their caves, and the same fire hardened their tools and weapons, turned soft clay into pots, even sealed their wounds. Fire has driven every great civilization from the ancient world right up to the present day.”

A modern city grew before Josh’s eyes, glass and steel and concrete, highways and bridges, skyscrapers and suburbs, rail lines and airports.

“And the fire which created this planet can also destroy it.”

A huge mushroom cloud blossomed in the center of the city directly in front of Josh, the light at its heart brighter than any sun, burning everything in its path… and a heartbeat later, all that remained was an incinerated wasteland.

“This is the power of fire,” Prometheus said.

And suddenly Josh was back in the study, sitting in the lounger. He looked at the Elder and tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, his lips cracked, and his tongue felt thick and heavy.

“Every living thing on this planet-and in the Shadowrealms, too-exists because of fire,” Prometheus said quietly. In the gloom, his eyes were bright, burning red. “We carry its spark deep within.” Reaching over, he tapped Josh in the center of the chest with his index finger. The young man shuddered as a wash of heat tingled through his body. “Josh, the Magic of Fire is linked to your aura, and yours is one of the most powerful I have ever encountered. But you need to know that your aura is inextricably bound to your emotions. You must be careful, so very, very careful. Never call upon the Magic of Fire when you are angry. Fire is the one magic that must be called upon only when you are calm; otherwise, it can rage out of control and consume everything-including you.”

Josh managed to gather enough saliva to croak out, “But when do I learn the magic?”

Prometheus chuckled. “You already have. Open your hands.”

Josh looked down. He was still holding the Aztec sunstone in his right hand, but he’d covered it with his left. When he lifted his left hand, the stone came with it. It was stuck to his skin. Puzzled, he looked at the Elder.

“Wait,” Prometheus whispered.

Suddenly Josh’s left hand glowed gold and an agonizing pain shot up the length of his arm. He gasped; then he smelled oranges and the pain vanished.

The sunstone dropped to the ground.

And when he turned his hand over, he discovered that the Aztec face had seared into the flesh of his palm. It resembled a black tattoo. “A trigger?” he whispered.