A Breath of Ash and Flame

Stiffness cracked along my joints as breath filled my chest for the first time. I did not move rashly. Instead, I stood fixed upon the dark stone pedestal, listening to the crackle of distant fire braziers. A drifting ember from the flames floated upward, grazing my outstretched left claw. As its heat met my skin, my talons curled shut around the tiny spark, extinguishing it to dust. The scythe in my right hand felt heavy, balanced, and real. I exist, grounded firmly upon this high vantage.