Granite Heights
by Kim Britton

Dec. 12, 1996

The place is known as Granite Heights. On this autumn night, the air is crisp and the breeze carries with it the essence of cypress. The silence is enhanced by the tree leaves rustling in the vast forests and the rippling water that surrounds the fortress. Gazing up at the sky, one's breath would be taken away at the sight of the moon and her illuminating nimbus.

For it has been but a fortnight and a day since Raziel had been summoned by Lord Ansel and on this particular evening she longed for his presence like never before. Raziel, intent on being in her lover's arms could not remain still; so anxious she was, to be in the company of her beloved.

Making her way over to the double doors that close off the veranda, she grabs hold of the polished brass handles and throws the doors open with vigor. She is aspiring towards seeing the exquisite grace of the snow-white mare who belongs only to her suitor. The mare who so many times before came trotting across the bridge that leads to her late husband's castle. Upon opening the doors, she is greeted only by a chilling wind which causes the veils hanging from the canopy of her enchanted iron leafed bed to stir, and the flames of the encircling white candles to flicker.

Raziel feels heavyhearted; the mare and its master are nowhere in sight. Standing on the veranda she closes her eyes and in her mind curses him. She condemns him for the penance he feels he must serve. If only he had her will to feel no repent. If only he could see that their adulterous tryst left them with all they could have wished for; the majestic castle, acres of splendor and each other. For the first time, and only for a moment, she wonders if she will someday have to pay, and at what price for her sins.

She dismisses this thought quickly.

At that moment she hears the hooves of that magnificent mare in the distance and clasping her delicate hands to her heart sighs the softest "thank you."

Removing her crimson, velvet robe, she climbs into her bed wearing a medieval, intricately laced evening gown and is embraced by the coolness of the elegant, silk sheets. Pretending to be asleep she awaits her lover's presence at the side of her bed. She hears him whisper. "Raziel, Raziel, I have come for you, my lady. Raziel, are you awake?" She opens her eyes and sits up in her bed feigning surprise. "My lord, is it really you? Have you truly come to your senses? Kiss me, for only then will I be convinced I am not dreaming." As his lips softly and sweetly brush hers, she vows to forever keep the fairest of all close at hand. As she draws him to her breast she returns the kiss gently on top of his head.

It is her true will to never again allow her state to be that of perdition. And with her lover, as she is now, is the only way that can be achieved.

As time stands still, for this moment, her great work is done.