Above the Rest

Finally her life was coming together.

All her ambitions would be realized. Her goals come to fruition.

For she had secured her place in the Order as a vital cornerstone, an anchor for Archon Miriam's regime and a ley line of power for King Gladius' decrees.

Vizon was a portal mage, and a promising one at that. At last she had earned the privelage of openly existing as a mage outside of Namarast. Not only that, but running her own business again, using her magic for her own gain, influencing the goings on of the city of Leona. All because the Order knew one thing about her: she was their willing slave, so long as advancement was dangled before her like bait on a line. Anytime she was called upon she would hark and the system's wishes were her command. 

Here she was in her crystal windowed tower, gazing on the people below through the beautiful glass. She approved of her new living quarters, with their lavish silk clad stalls and beautiful wall hangings. Most of all she liked the vastness of the space; a reminder, in a crowded city, that she was a person of import. It was custom built just for her, according to her particular specifications, with secret doorless rooms accessible only by teleportation without breaking walls and with a fountain she liked to play with. The fountain was powered by a water mage's enchantment; a lesser magician who had to do favors for scraps, unlike her. 

The mage liked to utilize a little mystical flare when it came to her vainglorious musings over grandiose views. The perpetual motion marble ran its endless course along her crescent moon horn, flying out of the higher portal, curving past, and being flung up and into the lower portal again and again. The little orb whizzed its mesmerizing silent course without her noticing as she uttered a word of power and opened a portal through a solid wall to gaze directly from the sky over the stone street. She didn't need the word of power; her magic was directed by her will. She was just incapable of doing anything without excessive flare, even in private. 

Unseasonably cold air, strange for such a temperate coastal zone, trickled through the portal on a chill wind. Through the shimmering gate Vizon gazed upon a traveler from above. He was ragged, scarred, and freezing cold. The gray equine clopped along the white cobbles and shivered in the brisk air, armor rattling in the not so distant distance. He looked up briefly at the portal, met her gaze, and narrowed his eyes, but there was nothing he could do. She was a mage alright, and she was sanctioned. Petty ordinaries like him had no control over her now. She could do whatever she wanted. The only people who controlled her were those she found useful. And this was how she liked it.

Let the witchhunter freeze. And if he found some freezing hidden mage along the way and dragged them to Namarast to join the pyramid of power she was climbing, she cared not.

She closed the portal, and she was warm.