The Wait

Holding the power of the rift, she idly tapped at the keys of the harpsichord. Crackling energy circulated through her, longing to be used, setting her nerves and senses alight. Colors leapt from the vibrant tapestries embroidered in thread-of-gold. The sharp scent of the cheese and sausages across the room flowed into her. Touching the rift was pain and pleasure all wrapped into one; every sense enhanced, every emotion amplified. She stilled her mind, though a sea of rage whirled with love was all too present. She would have only one chance to free Argen, and she would not fail.