A Shift in the Grip

Silence. Then... warmth. My right fingers tightened around the hilt without command. I paused. Through the dark air, faint vapor drifted past my cowl. I rotated my wrist a fraction of an inch, pointing the glowing blade toward the dark ground beneath my boots. The red reflection flared across the textured surface, steady and responsive to my deliberate motion. I am no longer frozen. I hold the stance, observing the quiet.