She rolled the small white marble around in her slender palm. The muted, starlit, shadows of deep mossy green and stone greys of the courtyard flagstones, a backdrop to her idle reflection.
Closing her hand around it, she stood, eyes glazed distant of some ancient memory. Narrowing, returning to the present, she dropped the solitary white orb to the flagstone floor and crushed it, twisting it beneath her boot's thick, black, heel.
Kneeling down, she inspected the remains, before pursing her lips and blowing gently across the glassy white powder. It spread disproportionately across the courtyard stones and moss,
as if carried by the strength of the gusty North than by mere breath. As she returned to her feet, standing now to her full, impressive, height, the trail of powder began to glow. Faintly at first, it rapidly became a vibrant, and
embersome, orange-red. Tendrils of flame licked upwards and danced around it as a massive form emerged. A phoenix. Wrought of pure fire, it rippled with crimson red, golden orange-yellow, and shimmering sapphire blue.
The towering, flaming, bird of prey was easily five times her size. Amber shadows danced on the stone around her. She waited.
Opening its eyes, the firey phoenix took flight, launching itself into the air with a shrill, primal, hunting cry, illuminating the cool, fading, hues of the night.
Watching with a critical eye, she followed the trail of the fearsome fire-beast until it was out of sight, its wailing scream still echoing from castle to cliff face.
Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, she nodded to herself. A smile tugged at the corner of her thin lips. The shardsmith had done well.
She drew again tight the thin straps of the soft leather pouch at her waist, closing the weighty bag of marbles with a clink of glass.
The courtyard, once again shrouded in the secrecy of the dark, moonless, night, paid no attention to the tall, cloaked, figure, as it strode brisquely through the dimly-lit chamber door.
#impromptufiction
#shortstory
#fedifiction
#whitemarble
