She sat in a meditative pose: soles of her feet pressed together, backs of her hands resting lightly on her knees with a muladhara mudras held in intense focus, eyes closed, back straight and tall, and breathing slow and steady. “La-a-a-a-am,” she chanted.
Behind her, a figure swept in from the doorway.
Quicker than the assailant could follow, she was on her feet, standing directly in front of him, left palm resting lightly against his naked chest. As her eyes flew open, a flame burst forth, launching him into the air.
With skilled grace, he flipped midair and landed in a crouched defensive position. “Well done, firelily,” the man praised as he straightened to approach her. “But what are you doing here, by yourself? Instead of with the others your age celebrating Warna?”
She folded her arms over her chest, shifted her weight to her back foot, and regarded him with a slight scowl. “So I can have one of the boys who snuck a little too much hashish or alcohol paw at me? Or perhaps so I can have one of the older girls look down her nose at me?”
A gentle, knowing smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it’s all because they’re jealous of your gifts, ibna,” he offered. “And one day, when I’m gone, you will be the one to take over for me. You will teach the younglings the way of the flames.”
She heaved sigh and shook her head. “I didn’t think that was something you were able to decide on your own.”
He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “The shaman and I have spoke about this often and at length. There is no one better than you.”
After several moments of silence, she relaxed and inclined her head slightly. “I’m honored.”
“Go, Hasna,” he said with a gentle nudge, “enjoy yourself. Just remember that they are still foolish children. It may sting, but it will pass. Yours is the heart of a true pyromancer, unlike most in our tribe.”
She hesitated for another minute. Then, she left the room and started down the corridor toward the music and clamor. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin as she entered and those closest to the door turned to watch her. Slowly, her gaze swept over the crowded space. With a deep breath, she plunged into the press. Caught up in the music, she danced with those around her.
A shout of delight erupted as powders of a myriad colors filled the air. They showered all in proximity with a fine dusting of pinks, blues, greens, and yellows. The noise reached a deafening cacophony. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders, slammed his mouth against hers, and kissed her breathless.
Her eyes widened with rage. Realization hit her and she smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. As he disentangled from her, she glanced over his shoulder to see a figure in the corner, casually leaning against the wall, smiling broadly at her. Hasna inclined her head and then returned her full attention to the youth still in her arms.
The World of Terra 