CLEAR SKIES – #flashfictionmagic
They told me to wait for clear skies, but the need to escape swelled in me, choking off my breath.
Much like the mist curled around the window of my tower, digging its fingers into the casements.
I flung the glass wide and stepped onto the narrow ledge outside, letting the clammy air crawl along my bare legs.
How long had I been here, to have hair tangled down my back and skin pale as a sickly moon?
I do not know.
Grey spirits brought me here, lifted me to the dizzying heights of my tower. They came for me in the forest, a distant memory now—of moss fainting and dying before their footsteps.
Mistress Rood (was that her name? It is so pale in mind) and someone behind her, a taller, broader shadow, had shouted that final warning as I was lurched into the sky.
Wait for clear skies.
I felt a deepest failure now, wavering on the edge in the mist. I could not wait any longer. The spirits were slowly drawing life and memory from me, to feed themselves. I closed my eyes and felt the cold stone on my fingers. My legs beneath my shift wanted to chill, but I was too used to this air.
A sweep of breeze, against my ankles. My eyelids flew open. A tiny square of blue glinted before me.
Wind rocketed around me, swirling like water, lifting me up, up above the mist. A familiar dark shadow waited in the clear blue skies beyond, his wings beating strong, his hands braced as he drew me toward with the wind.