The Fire Rises

Simon-Luc Noël

Atop the highest battlement of the largest keep in Kulkodar, a lone figure sits, deep in contemplation. His hands, rough and worn from the heft of a war axe over countless hours of warfare and combat, are curled, one atop a seated knee, the other in a fist beneath his chin rocking back and forth, as if chewing on a piece of smoke-dried beef for too long.
Pensive charcoal eyes scan the landscape before him, taking in the city’s structures, the people who made their way through the streets, and further out into the wilderness, mountainsides and the vast plains of the land given to them by the gods.
A small sensation begins to crawl along the left side of his face, intensifying into a dull itch.
Scratch the itch.
Ignore it.