requiem of solitude

In the dead of night, Xephyr scanned the horizon as he soared alone over the chain of mountains below. He was looking for something to be sure, but what it was not even he knew. The foreboding blackness was his home, and the full moon his welcoming. He was the darkness. The night was his. He u-turned and rescanned the mountainsides. Assuming spirit form, he was like black smoke in even more black sky. He had no chance of being spotted if he was indeed right about what made residence on these mountains. He turned again as a piercing noise shook the sky itself and a resplendent flash of light took over the darkness. He gasped as the light absorbed him.

Atra stood perched atop a mountain peak; she watched the clouds beneath her flash with electricity as they sent another bolt of lightning to the ground. Aside from her chest rising and falling as she breathed, the silver shadow phoenix was motionless.
Legends tell of her breath being cold enough to either freeze or cause severe frost burn on a human; other magical beasts were more resilient, she had noticed. Good thing to, or fights would be a bore.
Not that Atra possessed any interest in pathetic squabbles over territory and mates; she lived a life of solitude after been born of the cursed black flame and raised as a killer.