Such a lovely image. I got entangled with Ariadne Pautina’s web. Here is my offering to her prompt.

As soon as the sun had vanished behind the manicured gardens, Valadoria slipped through the door of her room in the guest house. She’d felt restless all afternoon, ready to set things in motion. Anticipation eating away at her patience. But Ω had told her to stay put until the darkness was heavy enough to cover her tracks.

She’d worked all month to gain the trust of Thatcher Grey. Moving into the Estate’s guest house had been the final step of the setup. Now, it was time to act.

With her boots wrapped in rough spun fabric, she darted across the lawn, her path barely lit by the crescent moon. Thatcher was a naive idiot, blindly trusting that his average looks and the wealth he’d inherited from a much more cunning man would protect him from everything. And Valadoria, well, she was a woman. He’d not even believe her a danger if she held a knife to his throat, drawing the very blood he considered so pathetically valuable.

Let him underestimate her. It made her work all the more frictionless.

She pushed the kitchen window open and stole through the grand building’s ground floor. Thatcher had shown her every last corner of the estate, boasting about craftsmanship he, upon questioning, couldn’t even properly explain. She knew her way up to his office, knew how to open the door and soundlessly move the heavy frame away from where the safe was hidden.

He’d been so proud when he’d told her that this safe was unbreakable, the latest in technology, too expensive for anyone but the Queen and himself.

What he did not know, was that Valadoria was a witch. The rules of physics didn’t much apply to her craft.

From her satchel she produced a little jewellery casket. She opened the lid and in the darkness she could barely see the creature hidden inside. With her index and middle finger she carefully lifted it out of the casket.

“Your turn, Grom,” she said and the tiny dragon, yawning its slumber away, slung its tail around her finger for balance. Valadoria moved her hand to the safe’s lock. Grom steadied itself and she could feel the warmth taking shape in the little belly hovering above her index finger.

With a click, the flame exploded out of its maw. Dragon flame was hot like a furnace. The metal lock, expensive though it might have been, melted away like ice on a hot summer day. It had never stood a chance.

Valadoria smiled as the safe’s door swung open. The family jewels lay there, presented to her as if she’d been invited to take them. How she loved rich a man’s arrogance.

Grom snuggled back into its casket and Valadoria let it vanish into her satchel together with the jewels.

She took the time to put everything back in place, locked the office door behind her and unhurriedly left the Estate. Ω would be pleased.