AS I MAKE the connection, the goblet slips from my grasp and crashes to the ground. The raven's piercing cry suddenly echos. Circe, ever vigilant, catches my eye from across the square. Her expression's taut with concern, mirroring the unease that twists in my gut.

"What's wrong?" She mouths.

The breeze, once a gentle caress, morphs into something sharper. All at once, almost as if the world waited until I saw the raven, the wind shifts directions. A newfound chill cuts through my sweat-drenched dress. Goosebumps prick my skin as I turn towards the source of the wind, somewhere beyond the coastline. A dark cloud begins to rise from behind the horizon, and just as quickly, swallows up the sun.

I don't respond; I don't need to. The rapidly darkening sky says it all - inevitable and nearing quickly.

The instruments and singing stop, the villagers beginning to murmur in alarm. My heart pounds in my chest as from the blackened clouds above, a bolt of lightning strikes, a celestial javelin hurtling towards the ocean's surface. The ocean reacts in a rage of violence, an explosion of water and steam. Each forked tendril pulsates with an ethereal brilliance, casting an iridescent glow before disappearing, plunging the village into even deeper darkness as the last of the sun's light is eaten.

For a moment, everything seems frozen in time.

It takes me a fraction of a second too late to remember what follows lightning.

"Get down!" I barely have time to scream the words and cover my ears before the first crack of thunder splits the air.

This is what Aunt Elora is afraid of.

Only a handful of people manage to get on the ground, escaping the deafening roar that explodes from the heavens, drowning out all other sound. Buildings tremble and windows shatter as the sheer power of the sound wave sweeps through, and I'm blown back in the air, thrown against the stand behind me.

A sickening thud sounds, and my head aches from the impact. Whatever is bleeding quickly starts a damp feeling in my hair towards the back of my skull. My ears ring a pitch so high my teeth clench. It is a challenge in itself for me to even lift my head into the wind, every muscle protests as I push myself up with trembling arms.

The ground beneath me quakes with rumbling booms. The air has taken on a charged electric energy, the smell of ozone and burning wood filling my nostrils. Hysteria spreads through the crowd like wildfire, the festive atmosphere shattered as chaos takes over. The growing wind whips through the square, sending banners flying, tables flipping and debris everywhere. Trees bow before the tempest's fury, their branches thrashing wildly in the howling wind.

In the midst of the lightening strike, Jovanna has been lost in the scramble, her hand reaching out amidst the sea of bodies. Panic claws at my throat as I catch glimpses of her red hair disappearing into the frenzy.

The hairs on my arms stand alert at at once again. Time seems to slow as another jagged bolt splits the sky, striking the spire the church with a ferocity that sends tremors through the ground. The impact is an explosion that sends shards of stone and wood hurtling through the air. The deafening roar of destruction echoes in my ears, drowning out my panicked breaths.

I frantically cover my face with my arms as a barrage of shattered debris, some of it searing hot, pelts down upon me. My skin stings and sizzles as molten fragments land and melt into it, leaving blistered trails in their wake.

Shrieking, I crawl backwards, desperately ridding myself from the heat.

I only have just under a minute to relieve my burns when Circe manages to find me in the darkness. "We need to find shelter!" her muted voice cuts through the chaos.

Her hand grips mine, her eyes ablaze with determination as she pulls me up from the ground. My legs threaten to give out beneath me, so I lean against Circe as she guides us. My eyes strain to see in the darkness, the only light left coming from lanterns lighten inside the squares shops, which one by one begin to blow out as windows shatter and hinges are broken.

The wind continues to whip around us, promising to tear us apart.

Circe forces us through the panicked crowd, dodging debris. It's a battlefield of devastation, the air thick with the stench of smoke and burning wood. Families scramble towards their shops for shelter. Tears blur my vision as we stumble.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Circe leads us between walls that offer some meager protection from the raging tempest. We huddle against the bricks, our bodies trembling with fear and adrenaline. Her grip on my hand vice-like as her eyes scan the chaos around us.

"We need to find somewhere safer," she shouts over the roar of the storm, her voice barely audible. I nod frantically, my throat too tight to form words. A flash of blazing blue lights up the world behind us. Our shaking shadows reflect back on the wall in front of us. Then, without warning, the sound of destruction surrounds us, a low ominous groan shaking the ground beneath our feet as a part of the wall behind us collapses in a cascade of dust and debris.

I reach out in a panic, grabbing Circe's arm just in time as a large chunk of debris hurtles towards us, missing by mere inches. We scramble away from the crumbling wall, barely avoiding being buried beneath the rubble. The ground beneath our feet trembles violently, threatening to give way at any moment. Dust and the acrid smell of destruction fill my lungs as we cough and gasp for breath.

Circe limps as I pull her along with me, her family owns a shops right in the market square, and even in the darkness, I still recognize it's familiar front entrance.

The glass in the storefront windows have already broken, so it's not a difficult task to push open the door. A gust slams the door behind us and I stumble towards one of the crates, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. The windowpanes rattle and creak under the force of the wind, and I can barely hear myself think over the deafening roar of wind. But even that isn't enough to block out the screams of villagers caught out in the open, their terror echoing off the stone walls.

"Jovanna's still out there," I whisper, my voice almost entirely inaudible.

"It came out of nowhere," Circe's skin has lost some of its color as she grabs onto a wall for support.

"The storm. Aunt Elora was right-" The storm. It rages through my mind, pounding against my skull with each painful throb of my temples. It's just like Aunt Elora predicted.

Aunt Elora.

My heart races even faster as I imagine her alone and terrified, stranded in the midst of the violent chaos.

"Didn't see 't comin'," Circe's words begin to slur. "Too d-dark outsi'."

She suddenly collapses, sweaty and trembling. Her eyes, widening with fear, lock onto her leg.

"Circe, what's wrong?" My stomach tightens.

She gasps, her breaths shallow and rapid. "Th-think 'm losin' blood..."

A blinding bolt of lightning explodes outside, momentarily revealing the gruesome sight of the bloodied shrapnel that's completely torn to ribbons the hem of her dress. The already red fabric darkens to a blackish ruby as blood spreads. As the darkness descends once more, I'm forced to focus on Circe's agonizing cries, her breaths becoming more labored with each passing moment. I grit my teeth until I'm standing, and stagger to her.

I have to do something, anything, to stop the bleeding.

My hands tremble as I rip the bottom of my own dress from my body, the once-fine fabric now tattered and ruined. The vision of my own shredded feet in my ruined sandals and scratched calves causes bile to rise inside me, but it doesn't compare to the damage done to Circe.

I wrap them around Circe's calf, attempting to apply pressure to the wound. Sweat trickles down my forehead, mingling with the tears that threaten to fall.

"It's okay, everything's going to be fine," I choke out, tying off the fabric.

Her head droops back, contoured in pain as she mumbles something about the cellar. A sense of urgency surges within me as she begins to fully lose conciseness.

The cellar. It could be a safe haven from the storm. Maybe even safe enough to tend to Circe, and then find Jovanna.

It takes all of my strength to lift Circe.

I heave her limp body over my shoulder, the weight threatening to crush my battered ribs.

My mind is filled with images of the storm ravaging the town. The screams of the people. My father, who would have been by the water. Aunt Elora, alone in the cottage. Circe's wounded leg. Jovanna still out there.

I fumble my way towards the back of the shop, blindly finding the staircase leading to the cellar. My breaths are shallow and quick, mirroring Circe's own. The air down here is moist and cool, a stark contrast to the chaos in the square. As my eyes adjust, I can see the shapes of wooden barrels and crates, piled haphazardly in the corners. An old table with a half-finished game of checkers dominates the middle of the room, the pieces knocked askew by the storm. A small oil lamp flickers on the floor, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

As I take a moment to catch my breath, the sound of muffled cries and whispers reaches my ears.

I collapse, dropping Circe to the ground, the cold, damp floor feeling like a blessing in comparison to her warm, blood-soaked leg. Huddled in the corner, I strain my eyes, and begin to see a group of familiar faces and silhouettes.

My heart races with relief.

"Help," I croak as loud as I can, my throat dry from the relentless screaming. The word barely has time to escape my lips when one of the villagers, Eustace, I instantly recognize, pushes through the small crowd and rushes to examine Circe.

Eustace mumbles something about getting water and cleaning supplies, but it's hard to make out his words over the howling wind and crashing debris outside. As he tends to Circe, I search the faces in the room for any sign of Jovanna. My heart sinks when I don't see her. Despite everything, the few villagers here move with purpose and determination, tending to the wounded and securing the cellar from the storm.

In the corner, a child cries out in fear, the sound piercing my ears as she clings to her mother's skirt. Her tears begin to fall, leaving wet tracks on her trembling cherub cheeks. My stomach begins to lurch violently at the sight of her terror. I turn away, unable to bear the sight of her tears falling like heavy raindrops. The ominous sound of thunder rumbles in the distance, a reminder that this is just the beginning of the storm.

The worst is yet to come.

It hasn't even started to rain.