The Mistress of Flame

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W. R. Frady
Footman (Level 13)
2553 XP

The Mistress of Flame

W. R. Frady

Candlelight flickered as it illuminated the chamber in a warm golden glow. The swaying flames cast bouncing shadows against the wall which moved rhythmically like phantom dancers, giving into the percussive music of the fire. A brass censer in the middle of the floor loosed billowing coils of smoke into the air which swirled and gyrated as though some serpentine entity had possessed their formlessness, giving it life. The room itself was fairly clean save for the thin layer of dust which consistently settled over the whole in a fine coat as if to stake its claim on everything, yet through it all the air crackled with anticipation.

The single figure silhouetted by the fireplace in the far corner stood tall and proud in her velvet skirt and customary dance top. Her hair was the color of purest honey, with streaks of jet serving as shadows set within. She was of pristine beauty, a sweet sassy maiden whose visage was both angelic and profane at the same time; a vision so lovely and captivating, she enchanted all who gazed upon her and they could not help but feel their heart leave their chest, for her presence stole even their very breath. She had no watchers tonight however, save for the chronicler of her firelight ritual. He sat back in the shadows, hands sweating and heart pounding as he watched the glistening moisture forming on her slim form. He caught his breath as a tiny rivulet made its way down her abdominal curvature and seeing his response, she smiled in a seductive smile which had ruined so many who had come before. Somewhere behind the firelight, a tambourine began to twitch, followed by the pluck of a lute string which gave a voice to the flames. With a pulsating beat the music began. The voice of a harpsichord emerged from the sconces as though the very fire itself breathed life into the music. Other musical instruments soon followed in suit. The scribe wasn't concerned about the music, however; as his eyes were locked on the figure in swirling velvet that moved with the grace of the flame and served as the living vessel of the music which poured through the chamber.

She looked up at the scribe and saw his captivation. He watched and witnessed the fire in her stare, a fire that seared him to the very core of his being. His breath came in shallow gasps and he forced himself to swallow hard against the dryness in his throat. Deep within his chest his heart beat to the melody which throbbed in the night air. The room seemed to glow even brighter as the gypsy danced in as wild and careless a motion as the fire with whom she danced. The Chronicler had to take a second look for she, in fact, was dancing with the elemental form of a maid dressed in flame.

Together the two moved, dipped swirled, flit, and flickered to the majestic music which pervaded the room, and as suddenly as the fire-maiden appeared she vanished as the two, gypsy and elemental twirled together becoming one. The fire in the gypsy dancer's eyes was a brilliant blaze as she continued to dance to the music. The air changed around the scribe as he bore witness to the majesty of the Dance of the Mistress of Fire... he was seduced, captivated and taken aback all at once as the flames of the candles left their wicks to adjoin themselves to the mystic dancer; the coiled smoke of the censer began to fashion a quasi-elemental scarf about her. Within seconds she became as the maiden of fire, dancing, swirling, and undulating to the entrancing tune of the fiery chamber. Her hair of golden honey was aglow with the light of embers, and in her stare was the fires of a passion so ancient that man had forgotten its existence and power long ago. Just as he thought his palpitating heart could take no more of this sensual display, the flames of the fireplace reached out with serpentine tongues to caress her form. The chronicler's mouth was dry and his breath labored, as he bore witness to this unearthly spectacle. ...and just as he was about to give in to the desires burning inside of him...the fires died...leaving him cold...alone...and empty in the dark...

I am a writer based in the foothills of North Carolina, specializing in Gothic Horror and Fantasy. Though I do play around with some Science Fiction.