Within My Grasp

My right arm was frozen high above my head, clutching a miniature globe. Then, a pulse of genuine strength surged through my gloved fingers. I turned my wrist, slowly lowering the tiny world to examine its painted continents. In my left hand, tension coiled as my claws flexed. The realm beneath my boots remained quiet, yet entirely subject to my presence. I tightened my grip—not a tremor shook the sphere. Command begins here.