“Don’t do it,” Dragon, my familiar, hissed.

“Don’t do what?” I asked with my hand on the latch.

“Don’t open that window.”

“I just want some air.” I flipped the latch and breathed in the fresh air. I wasn’t careful, and the sun’s rays hit my arm. Immediately, flames ran down my skin. I tried to focus and reign in the fire, but I bumped into the table instead. The fire jumped and hit the trash can. It burst into flames.

Dragon flicked his tail. “I told you not to do that. How are you going to explain the fire?”

“Shut up.” I tossed water on the flames and they died down. The flames couldn’t hurt me, but I was still unable to protect anyone or anything near me from the flames that covered my skin in the light of the sun.

“Never let the sun touch your skin without preparing first. Meditate. It’s the first rule.” Dragon turned and flew up to the rafters.

I looked around at the muddy ashes, beakers scattered all over the desk, and melted trash can. I grabbed the broom (the one for sweeping, not flying) and started cleaning. No way would Merlin believe anyone other than me caused this mess.

More flash fiction by N. R. Tucker.

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