Watts lay flat on the cracked earth, staring at the darkened sky above. Lightning arced across the heavens, illuminating the swirling vortex of the storm he had unwillingly unleashed.
Each crack of thunder reverberated through his chest like an accusation, a reminder of his failure.
The ground beneath him pulsed faintly with a dull, foreboding rhythm, as if the planet itself was dying, its heartbeat slowing with every passing moment.
The storm was still in its infancy, but the damage it had already wrought was devastating.
Trees were stripped bare, their once-proud forms reduced to lifeless husks. Rivers overflowed with dark, polluted water that scalded everything it touched.
The cries of creatures caught in the chaos were faint now, drowned out by the roaring wind and the relentless crackle of lightning.
Watts didn't try to stand. What was the point? Everywhere he went, death followed. It wasn't just his power; it was his curse.
