[ WP ] You are on a midnight walk alone with your thoughts .

All is quiet tonight. The port city below the castle is asleep, dark save for a errant candle in the window here and there. Above the town, the towering citadel is likewise silent, save for the regular cadence of the guards at the gate and along the curtain walls. Their chain mail clinks softly with each step. Braziers cast circles of light on the towers, illuminating pockets of the darkness. Banners blow lazily in the coastal wind, their midnight blue silk nearly invisible in the star studded night. 
 
 
 A lone figure emerges from the postern gate, the doorway neatly covered by running ivy. They are covered by a hooded cloaked dyed dark blue pinned around their shoulders by silver toggles. Wordlessly, the figure shuts the gate, before slipping away into the beckoning forest. 
 
 They slip through the towering trees, their footfalls being softened by the beech-mast on the forest floor. Coming to a lake, they pause, reaching up with delicate hands to the cowl of their hood to doff it. Sorcerous green eyes catch the light of the full moon, pupils burning with witchfire. Long raven hair is picked up by the night's breeze, dancing about. A smile crosses her face as she admires the scene. Not uttering a word, she raises her hands, eagerness bare on her face, ready to begin. 
 
 With the grace of a dancer, she arches her foot, right hand raised to the sky, the other lowered to the ground. Taking a breath, she moves. Stretching out her hand, she sends a burst of wind ripping through the glade, the summer leaves shaking. Tracing the stream of wind with her hand, she turns, her feet twisting in the soft grass. With her other hand, she coaxes the lake's still water out into the air, drawing it out in serpentine shapes before setting them to flow around her. In circles she turns, with each step flowers spring from the ground and bloom, releasing their intoxicating scent in the air. Tulips and lilacs and lilies in a score of hues. She spins, faster and faster. Her dress twirls with her, rising to reveal lithe and shapely calves. Laughing, she whirls around until she collapses on the meadow grass. The wind dying down, she laces her fingers behind her head as she rests, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. Her racing heart slowing, she then begins to whistle. 
 
 One note rising, then one note falling. Two notes rising, then two descending. Two notes sustained. A flickering light dances above her head. Rising to her feet, she twists her head as behind her they arrive. Fireflies. Thousands. Tens of thousands making their way through the forest, flowing between the trees in golden rivers that floats above the ferns and flowers. Luna moths also make their way to her, looking like great ships of sail upon the tide of gold. Drifting about her like lanterns, they cast light upon her through sheer numbers. From out of the woods come animals; owls, deer, wolves and more. All staring at her. All here to witness her final piece. 
 
 Smiling at the curious faces, she cups her hands and raises them to her lips. As if coaxing an ember, she blows gently into them, feeling the warm air on her palms. She increases the airflow, meanwhile within her hands it begins to glow red, brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter. Pressing her hands together as tightly as possible, she continues to bellow air into them. The light becomes blinding, the heat unbearable, until finally she releases her hands. Instantly the night erupts in burning light and blazing fire as a phoenix takes form. The creature shoots into the air, both the animals' and her eyes racing upward to follow its firebrand course as it streaks through the night sky. The firebird grows in size with each flap of its wings, growing brighter and grander as it circles the lake and meadow. Awe overcomes the witnesses. Elk and bear alike gaze up at the sight. The young woman however, is silent. 
 
 Her skin lacks the warm glow of earlier in the night. Instead, her skin is deathly pale. Tired breaths sound from her breast as if each is more painful than anything in the world. Her eyes, once alight with magic, have dimmed. Dragging herself to lean against a moss covered tree, she admires the sight dancing in the air. Tears drip down her cheeks as she smiles. Her breast rises and falls, and then does not rise again, her breath exhaling in mist. 
 
 High above the lake and meadow, the firebird sees this, and cries aloud. Pain and fear fills its voice. It dives. Faster and faster it hurls itself towards the lake, the still waters growing closer and closer with each moment, not one to lose. All the assembled animals hold their breaths as the phoenix nears the water. Surely it will crash. With a fiery roar the bird pulls out of its dive, glowing talons hissing with steam as they drag in the lake. Wingtips inches from the surface, the firebird races at the woman, eyes closed as if asleep. Closer and closer. It pushes itself as fast as it can fly, animals roaring and cawing their support. A hundred yards to go and faster than an arrow, the bird pulls its burning wings together, and allows itself to be absorbed within her. 
 
 With a startled gasp her viridian eyes open, burning with life. Cheeks red with warmth of a thousand fires, she falls back against the tree exhausted. Blissful sleep then claims Queen Malvina.
