A Shift in the Foundation

Weight settled into my joints. Slowly... breath circulated through dormant stone. The polished surface beneath felt firm, unyielding. I lowered one hand with measured care, letting a claw tip meet the edge of the red-and-white checkered fabric laid before me. Coarse threads. Solid timber beneath. My towers held steady through the shift. I rooted my footing into the dark wood, perfectly still once more. Solid... and awake.