The First Grasp

Silence reigned until my eyes ignited with crimson fire. Power stirred within this form. I tightened my gloved fingers around the scythe's shaft, feeling its rigid truth. Shifting my weight upon the smooth wooden floor, the chain across my ankles clinked softly. I raised one hand and pressed my palm against the cool, firm surface of the adjacent wooden door. It held steady against my touch. I am present. I stand sentinel in the threshold.