08-03-2024, 03:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-03-2024, 03:11 PM by Elias Donovan.)
From the eye of the storm, the hand of rage gripped his ribcage so firm, he could barely breathe. The storm was the outward projection of his fury, but inwardly, his body reacted accordingly. The muscles of his arms were corded so tight he hoped they would burst just to relieve the pressure, but the power flowing through his soul was not enough. There were no walls to punch; nothing to throw. The boat was empty but for Asha, and while the quick examination of the options considered her one of them, she was quickly passed over. He’d not harm her.
So he turned his face into the forward and yelled; screaming as loud as his throat would allow toward an invisible foe, but one that was all too real.
Then something changed. There was no describing it except that where his unbridled rage was unleashed, now it met, resistance. Rather than enflame him more, he came to stillness, hands resting limp at his sides, attention fully attuned to whatever was out there. Then, to his shock, the resistance began to push back. The power pulsed his body harder, more direct, feeding the storm overhead in response, and the push-pull of two mighty forces changed what was previously a severe storm into something supernatural.
The lake roared beneath them, waves rising and crashing like fists of water. The sky darkened to an almost impenetrable black, shot through with jagged, violet lightning. Trees on the distant shore bent and snapped under the storm’s fury, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with an eerie, humming energy.
“Someone is fighting me,” his calm voice nearly drowned by the howling wind.
The boat surged forward through the roiling waters, driven by a combination of Elias’s magic and the relentless fury of the storm. Each wave loomed like a monstrous wall, threatening to swallow them whole. The boat shuddered with each impact as it cut through the cresting waves, wood creaking and groaning as if on the verge of breaking apart, sending sprays of icy water into the air, drenching everything in its path. Overhead, thunder cracked and boomed, while the wind pushed the boat erratically, but Elias will kept them on course, fixed toward the distant shore where the source of the resistance waited.
As they neared the shore, the energy in the air grew more palpable, a heavy thrum that resonated in their bones. The shoreline came into view, a dark, jagged line against the tempestuous backdrop. There, amidst the swirling chaos, the silhouette of their opponent became discernible—two figures standing firm against the storm’s might.
As the boat reached the shallows, it skidded to a jarring halt, its hull scraping on the laky rockbed. By now the storm was subsiding, and Elias was moving quickly. With a surge of adrenaline, he vaulted over the side of the boat, his boots splashing down into the frigid water. He barely registered the cold as he rushed up the shore. There were two people waiting. One was a small woman wrapped in a shawl whom he primarily ignored for now; the other was the tall, lanky, dead-eyed face of Alvis, and all came into clear focus: the signal’s sudden disappearance and the storm to thwart his advance.
“Alvis! You fucker. I fucking knew it was you. Give me the shard. I know you fucking have it! Give it to me!” Power continued to boil inside him, and he was more than prepared to unleash it if Alvis did not give into the demand.
So he turned his face into the forward and yelled; screaming as loud as his throat would allow toward an invisible foe, but one that was all too real.
Then something changed. There was no describing it except that where his unbridled rage was unleashed, now it met, resistance. Rather than enflame him more, he came to stillness, hands resting limp at his sides, attention fully attuned to whatever was out there. Then, to his shock, the resistance began to push back. The power pulsed his body harder, more direct, feeding the storm overhead in response, and the push-pull of two mighty forces changed what was previously a severe storm into something supernatural.
The lake roared beneath them, waves rising and crashing like fists of water. The sky darkened to an almost impenetrable black, shot through with jagged, violet lightning. Trees on the distant shore bent and snapped under the storm’s fury, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with an eerie, humming energy.
“Someone is fighting me,” his calm voice nearly drowned by the howling wind.
The boat surged forward through the roiling waters, driven by a combination of Elias’s magic and the relentless fury of the storm. Each wave loomed like a monstrous wall, threatening to swallow them whole. The boat shuddered with each impact as it cut through the cresting waves, wood creaking and groaning as if on the verge of breaking apart, sending sprays of icy water into the air, drenching everything in its path. Overhead, thunder cracked and boomed, while the wind pushed the boat erratically, but Elias will kept them on course, fixed toward the distant shore where the source of the resistance waited.
As they neared the shore, the energy in the air grew more palpable, a heavy thrum that resonated in their bones. The shoreline came into view, a dark, jagged line against the tempestuous backdrop. There, amidst the swirling chaos, the silhouette of their opponent became discernible—two figures standing firm against the storm’s might.
As the boat reached the shallows, it skidded to a jarring halt, its hull scraping on the laky rockbed. By now the storm was subsiding, and Elias was moving quickly. With a surge of adrenaline, he vaulted over the side of the boat, his boots splashing down into the frigid water. He barely registered the cold as he rushed up the shore. There were two people waiting. One was a small woman wrapped in a shawl whom he primarily ignored for now; the other was the tall, lanky, dead-eyed face of Alvis, and all came into clear focus: the signal’s sudden disappearance and the storm to thwart his advance.
“Alvis! You fucker. I fucking knew it was you. Give me the shard. I know you fucking have it! Give it to me!” Power continued to boil inside him, and he was more than prepared to unleash it if Alvis did not give into the demand.