She Who Has No Name

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From the darkness, a single tiny point of light appeared. It hovered for long moments and then flitted about like a firefly dancing within an inky void. As it fluttered, it began growing in intensity, transforming from a pale,lingering mote to a fierce and angry butterfly that flashed red and yellow. The wavering flame grew and a pale face became illuminated just above it, wide-eyed with amusement, cast in shadow from the flickering light. Fire was dancing on the watcher’s finger, but it did not burn or consume him. It seemed to spring from and burn from nothing and this no doubt explained the young man’s delight.

‘By the gods, Marrag!’ came a gasp of disbelief from somewhere in the room. The scene was utterly black, except for the face, the finger and the fire.

‘What you said is true!’ said another voice, sounding from beside the first.

Marrag then opened his hand, palm up, and the flame spread to each of his fingers. The light still clung to him stubbornly, making him seem to be just a head and a hand floating amidst a void. ‘Of course it’s true,’ he declared, with his eyes still locked in fascination upon his fiery creation. Then he glared up towards the first speaker who had broken the awed silence. ‘And as I shall also show you, there are no gods-none that would challenge us, anyway. What the Council has told us are lies.’

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