The tale of a Rajamalan Priestess reincarnating into an Atavian body. A
Bard is helping her by providing the killing blow.

Reincarnation

I. Rajamalan

At the mossy foot of Yggdrasil,
rested within the angelic arms
of her divine guardian,

she let health flow away
into the lucid light
of the shimmering shape

until only a tiny thread remained.

Eyes closed,
she braced for the swift strike
she would not see coming,

recoiled in terror
when the rapier sang
its smithed song
with a piercing high note

just before it cut her loose
with a jolting jab.

II. Soul

She soared as soul
away from mortal earth,

finding no voice
to weep her woe
for the furry form
still on the ground,

while time moved
strangely in snapshots
where birds flew from view
in the blink of an eye,

to touch the Tree
and fall into the flame.

III. Atavian

Lush lavender
spread its scent
enhanced by first breath of life

on wind
tenderly touching tingling skin
free of fur

before ruffling golden feathers
on weightless wings

as she watched in wonder
at the reflection in her handheld mirror
where her familiar eyes stood
in another's face.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Ero, in the year 453 AF.