This garden once was perfect...

Vlad wrapped his hand around his dead father's necklace and swung back and forth on the swing, eyes downcast.

Vlad sighed and let go of the necklace, flexing his hands in front of him. After a moment they were alight, making his hands suitably warm. He breath a small sigh and looked up at the sky, thinking about his father.

"Pa!" Vlad, only a few months old, reached towards Ryland. "Papapapa!"
"I'm not your father." Ryland picked Vlad up all the same, holding him correctly but not excatly cuddling him.
"Papapa?" Vlad looked over at his mother, confusion on his face.
Aliceabella frowned, "He's only little, what's the harm in him calling you that? I'll tell him when he gets older."
Vlad looked between his parents in confusion. "Papapa?"
"Not your father." Ryland repeated flatly, putting Vlad in his crib and going back to his chair.

Vlad snapped out of his memories and put the fire on his hands out, getting to his feet and striding from the park.