Stone and Pulse

Stiffness gives way. The air tastes of dry dust and ancient stone. My claws dig down, meeting real grit beneath. Across the expanse, a small armored figure hovers, humming with bright fire. I do not rush. I plant my feet firm into the fractured paving, feeling the tremor of my own heavy breath rumble through my chest. Life has settled into my limbs, enduring and solid as the rock itself.