Gendron stood atop the peak of the world, a peak of his own making. The Pillar of Kyzyl loomed over the continent, a constant reminder to all of his many accomplishments. Its shining exterior was radiant in the midday sun, like a sword of light plunged into the earth itself. Gendron’s clothing, much like him, was simple yet intricate. He wore white loose-fitting pants that were tight around the ankles, along with a sleeveless shirt. From a distance he'd look nothing more than a beggar, but upon closer inspection, one would see that both were adorned with golden cursive stitching that made up the forms of various different creatures. His clothes and long black hair rippled in the winds that buffeted the tower's peak.
He gazed down from atop his proverbial throne to the city below him. An average person would see the people below only as ants at this distance, yet he watched them with ease. They scrambled from street to street and rooftop to rooftop, yelling and scraping at one another in order to get a vantage point of the tower. Even after nearly three hundred years he still did not tire of the looks on their faces on this day. The excitement, the worry, the fear, the anticipation! To think that he was once one of them, looking up at a tower much like this one.
“Well, we mustn’t keep them waiting.” Gendron said jovially, his voice surprisingly deep for one with delicate features such as him.
Prompted by his words, a mountain of a man emerged from the interior of the tower and knelt behind Gendron as he continued to survey the ever-growing crowd in front of him.
“You know it is still not time, my Lord” The man said, his tone polite, but steady.
“Have the shackles of time ever stopped me, Moss?”
“No, my Lord… but you know the Lady will not be pleased” Moss replied.
Even though Moss was twice Gendron’s size, Gendron still seemed to tower over the behemoth of a man.
“My Lord, my Lord,” Gendron mocked, “when will you stop with that? I’ve known you for almost two centuries now.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, my Lord. You always do when she’s mentioned,” Moss replyed.
Gendren shivered. “You know that woman scares me Moss, with her books, and her rules, and her…” he grumbled, each word getting quieter and more unintelligible than the last
“Bah.” Gendron spat, turning his head back just enough to see Moss. “Even she must be willing to bend the rules on a day such as today.”
“I doubt that, my Lord.” Moss replied, head down, still as a stone.
“Well, I guess it can’t be helped.” Gendron said, his voice sounding aloof. Facing the balcony again, he stepped forward closer to the ledge.
Gendron raised his hands out in front of himself, his clothes and long black hair suddenly still, even as the winds buffeted the tower's peak. As he closed his eyes thin motes of light began to materialize around his arms, violet on his right, and magenta on his left, both rapidly increasing in brightness. In the blink of an eye, the motes vanished, leaving Gendron’s once tan arms changed. His right was now enveloped in what looked like a violet gauntlet made of sharp obsidian glass, while an intricate pattern of pitch black entangling lines covered his left. At first glance this left arm looked mundane compared to the right’s sharp and imposing design; however, at closer inspection one could see what looked like space itself moving and bending within those lines. Gendron interlocked his fingers and stretched his palms to the sky as if he had just awoken from a long nap. Pushing himself onto the tips of his toes, the light radiating from his arms intensified as he stretched. He exhaled loudly as he exited the position, shaking out his arms. He looked back to Moss again, the blinding light of his arms now growing dim.
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“How long has it been since I last brought out my bonds, Moss?”
“Nine hundred and forty three days, my Lord.” Moss answered.
“Oh, how bureaucracy takes away the fun in the world.” Gendron said, turning back to the people below. Gendron noticed that the once loud and bustling crowd was now still and silent. Even at almost two thousand feet up, he was sure his aura was enough to make a frightened mouse stand still in awe. Gendron looked to the cloudy sky in front of him as he raised his left hand, dark light emitting once again from its patterns. Suddenly a ebon line, two hundred feet tall, appeared before the tower, black wisps trailing off its length. Gendron opened his left hand and twisted, the dark line expanding into a thin disc. Now as wide as it was tall, small twinkling motes of purples and pinks appeared on its surface. Gendron’s lips curled as he violently twisted his hand in the opposite direction. The disc’s never-ending blackness ripped, as an expanse of reds and oranges took its place. The air in front of the disc seemed to undulate from the heat now emanating from it.
Below, all was silent. The people watched in awe, eyes wide, waiting in anticipation for what would happen next. Any quiet muttering quickly erased by a quick slap on the head or a chorus of shushes. As the crowd stilled further, the wind itself seemed to follow suit, as if it too was waiting in suspense.
One heartbeat.
…
Two.
…
Just as a third was about to pass, a colossal mass of fiery feathers dived from the opening in space, its speed causing the air to snap loud enough to shatter glass. The disc behind it closed as the creature unfurled its wings, the act itself clearing the sky of clouds. The hawk like beast screeched, the high-pitched sound shaking the tower and the city below. People started to look panicked, the crowd pushing its way back into the city as the red glow of the bird shone on their skin. Embers dripped from the birds’ outstretched wings as it hovered in place; its head bending back. The creature whipped forward as a torrent of flame escaped its maw, seeming to almost blanket the city.
As the panicked people cried and ran, trying to escape the ever-expanding, ever-encroaching inferno, it suddenly stopped.
Not disappeared, but stopped.
The fiery hawk and its flames stood still in the air like a statue stuck in time. Gendron stood atop his tower, a smirk on his face, the violet light from his right gauntleted arm dimming as he lowered it to his side. Both arms reverted to their normal state as he placed them behind his back.
The still frightened crowd now stood quiet, looking to the peak of the tower and the behemoth that hovered before it. Gendron’s voice, somehow enhanced, bellowed over the people, almost shaking the earth itself.
“Let the year of the Phoenix begin!”
The people stood silent.
One heartbeat.
…
Two.
…
Just as a third was about to pass, cheers erupted from the city.