Graduation Day

The door to the von Wulfengeist estate opened as a shaggy haired young man stepped in. Clemens puts his student robes up on the hook. A single hand runs over the Hearth crest in accomplishment. "I'm home," he announces to an empty waiting room. "Sorry for taking so long," he says. The young man pokes his head into the adjoining chamber. "After the ceremonies everyone wanted to go to a tavern," he starts to say, "but, you know, it wasn't really for me, anyway."
In truth, he wasn't welcome in the celebration festivities. Clemens only went as far as just outside the tavern after being denied entry. This had become commonplace as of late. It still left a cold cut of rejection to being on the outside and listening to the cheers of students he called classmates. He had hoped that for a single day things could go back to when he was just another student and not the son of a criminal.
His mother is found at a parlor dining table. Her long, chestnut hair spills out around her face that is planted firmly on the table using her arm as a pillow. A glass of fine red wine is spilled over near her. "Oh," Clem responds, moving over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Its okay," he says, realizing that the only person around to celebrate with is himself. This isn't the first time that he has found her like this. It wasn't always this way. He had hoped that for his graduation that she could go back to being the woman that would make him a mulled cider and pie when he got good grades.
Clemens squeezes his hand on her shoulder, "We can always have breakfast," he says with a smile on his face. Taking out his wand, he slowly cleans up the wine with a swish and a flick. "And I can tell you about the tavern," he says, "I didn't get to go in, but there was this beautiful music from inside that made its way out." The brown eyed youth takes a deep breath and exhales, "Magical, music can be, you know? It was inspiring. The words. The emotion therein." He leans down, placing his forehead against the side of her head, "Everything is going to be ok, mom."
Standing tall, the young man had suddenly become the head of the von Wulfengeist household. His father and eldest brother were now gone. His time at the academy is over. The wizard walks not far to the garden adjoining the room. It is a place of green peace. "How is everyone doing tonight?" he asks the plants, smiling as he gently runs his hand over the stem of a bright violet flower. "You are looking much better today. Did the change in sun help?" he continues on. The guard he feels he always needs to keep up melts into a relaxed sigh in this place. His sanctuary. "Do you all want to hear the song?" he asks his captive, if not mute, audience. One of the plants, an animated bundle of green vines, walks over the table, and sits. More of its brethren continue, treated Blights.
"I haven't been practicing," Clem admits to his audience of flora, "but, here goes. Ahem." A deep breath. "Like a small boat..." And he doesn't get to take in another lung full of air before he realizes something. He isn't alone. In the corner of his garden is another person. Standing. Watching. "No, please continue," the other voice says with a deep, smokey voice. "I want to hear the rest of it."
Taking a step back instinctively, Clemens shoots a glance to the parlor and his mother. The young botanist stands his ground. "Who are you and what are you doing here? This is the von Wulf..." he continues until the figure makes itself known. Cloths of white and black. A patch with a single candle on it. The Candles. "Did I miss an appointment," Clemens asks the unfamiliar man.
The Candle steps further towards Clemens. "I said that I wanted to hear the rest of it. Do you want to know why?"
"No, sir. I mean, the reason didn't come to mind," Clem starts, awkwardly.
"The woman that sings that song, do you know who she is?" the house guest states, standing next to Clemens so close that he could choke the graduate with the fine gloved hands. "I do. I think you would do well to know, too."
"Who is she?" Clemens asks with genuine curiosity for a moment. The Candles have made his life difficult in the months following his father's criminal activities. They are responsible for investigating crimes and the highly magical tools available in Crystallis make it a challenging profession. Clem has always sought to be as cooperative as possible with one exception.
"She is the first victim of your father's," the Candle says in a deadpan, "an aquatic elf that simply wanted to see her own father. A sentiment you share, yes," the man continues, every small movement of Clem's body being under scrutiny.
Clem drops his eyes down. "Sir, my father is dead."
"So you say," the investigator continues. The air is left silent. Tense. Another voice is added from the parlor. "The estate is clear," the woman says, eyes clear as she walks into the parlor with another man. Candles, both.
"Miss Evelynn," Clemens recognizes her, "did I miss an appointment? Finals were coming up and if I did, I swear it just slipped my mind."
The raven haired woman shakes her head as she looks to the Candle so close to the graduate, "No. I was only handling the investigation until your graduation. Candle Praxus will be conducting it from here on out."
Praxus, leaning down towards young Clem, squints back his contempt, "And you have a lot to answer for Clemens von Wulfengeist. While Candle Evelynn's methods have been quite accommodating, you'll find mine are not." The two of them walk back towards the parlor so that all of them can speak. Clemens looks desperately to Evelynn who puts on a mask of professionalism.
"Where were we? Oh, right, the woman your father brutally tortured," Praxus states, going over to Clemen's mother. He picks up the wine glass, empty now, running a trace finger around it. "Your mother claimed to know nothing about it. What of you?"
"I don't know anything about that," Clemens says defensively, "my father never mentioned her."
"He didn't mention how he drew out her hopes and crushed them over and over," Praxus intones with venom, "to forge a weapon against Crystallis, nay, all of Arhor'ha? The same person who you CLAIM to enjoy the singing of. Sickening," he sets the wine glass back down, "I should have used a stronger dose." The Candle says over to Evelynn, "Perhaps she wouldn't wake up at all."
It dawns on Clemens that his mother had been drugged. "What did you do to her?" he asks.
"I ask the questions," Praxus shoots back sharply.
"What questions?" Clemens ignites at Praxus and fights back, "You come here and accuse me, in my own household, of things that we know naught of. Of things we did not do or were involved in. Of," he continues, exploding at the man, "things that my father was not capable of. You keep TELLING me he did these horrible things, but that is not my father. That is not the man I knew. The man who taught me to play the piano and work a field and said that all life deserved the opportunity to live." He is shouting loudly at him by now, "What questions?! You want me to believe something that is false. That is NOT my father and NOT this family. And you cannot take that from us!"
Fear shoots through Evelynn's eyes as rebellion burns in Clemens. Praxus claps his gloved hands slowly. Clap. Clap. Clap. "Wonderful performance," he says, "one your father did to us all for years." Quick as a dragonfly darting through the air, Praxus grabs Clemens by his hair and thrusts his face onto the parlor table with a loud twack. "Such sentiment may have worked on Candle Evelynn," he says, whispering down to Clemen's ears, "But not me."
Loud, painful screams come from Clemens as he resists an attempt to invade his thoughts. His body writhes, arms flailing as if drowning. "Stop!" Evelynn shouts out, breaking the magical inquisitor's psionic investigation. "You go too far, Praxus!"
Cold, hateful eyes look up to Evelynn. "Do I?" he asks while Clem attempts to catch his breath in jagged, wet sucks of air. "You saw the report, I assume," Praxus asks Evelynn, "No? Let me refresh you. During the final examination, Clemens here pulled a soul out of a living creature and placed it into another. Soul transference is tantamount to necromancy. It proves, objectively, he is capable of moving and storing a soul." Praxus looks over towards the garden, "Into plants, at least. A phylactery of sorts, isn't out of the question. Especially," the investigator looks down to Clemens, "when traces of infernal energy were identified in the examination." Clemens looks up to the investigator. All of these things are true. The narrative is damning.
"I can feel him hiding something, Evelynn," Praxus growls. Too far. A deep breath. The bearded Candle composes himself, "Burn the garden."
"No!" Clemens shouts out, drunkenly from the mental assault.
The weakness is revealed, as Praxus turns Clemens' head to the nearby garden. "Now," the man barks. Evelynn's associate looks to her. She closes her eyes. This is her fault. She didn't get results. All of this is on her. Every one of Clem's shouts is like a dagger straight through her chest. "I'll control the blaze from outside," she excuses herself.
"You... you can't," Clemens struggles, only to have his head bounced against the table again. "Erghh."
"Wait, stop," Praxus says as the room goes silent. Fire magic swirls around a wand. Praxus looks to Clemens, "You can stop all of this, Clemens. I just need you to be honest with me. Tell me everything about your father's activities. His associates. Help me remove this threat, root and stem."
Clemens looks up from where he is pinned, "My father," he starts, "was... a... good man."
The fire raged on for hours,painted by the screams of a young man graduated into the world, as a neighborhood witnessed from the safety of their own homes in deafening silence.