Visha Tanith stepped out of the church, her gaze lifting to the sky, where thick, churning clouds stretched across the horizon in dark, menacing waves. They matched her eyes—cold, stormy, and simmering with an intensity rarely seen but deeply felt. The first rumbles of thunder rolled through the heavens, low and steady, like the growl of some sleeping beast stirring to life, as if sensing the storm raging within her. She took a slow, deliberate breath, her chest rising and falling in time with the pulsing sky above.
She strode down the stone steps, the wind tugging at her hair and jacket, urging her forward. Her car waited at the bottom, dark and sleek, offering the shelter and warmth she'd expected to return to. But something in the electric tension of the air, the heady scent of ozone, called her to stay. Instead of slipping into the safety of her car, she passed it by without a glance, her boots crunching on the gravel as she headed toward the dense line of trees beyond the churchyard.
The wind whipped through the branches of the trees as she entered the woods, and the sky crackled with anticipation, the faint, ghostly flashes of lightning igniting the edges of the storm. She welcomed the cold, each gust an invigorating reminder of the life left in her bones. Visha paused on the edge of a clearing, tilting her face to the heavens as the storm gathered around her.
If this indeed were to be her last day, then she would meet it here, beneath the fierce beauty of a lightning storm. She would drink in the chaos, feel its raw power surge through her one last time, letting it intertwine with her own. And as the clouds rumbled their approval, Visha Tanith waited—standing tall, unyielding, and ready to become part of the tempest that matched her soul.
A blinding flash split the darkness as a jagged bolt of lightning tore through the heavens, brighter and more intense than any before it. For an instant, time seemed to stop; the storm held its breath, and the trees stood silent, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms witnessing the final act.
The lightning struck her with a raw, savage beauty—a searing line of light that connected sky to earth, gods to mortals. It was as if the heavens themselves had reached down to claim her, to answer her challenge with an undeniable answer. The bolt hit her squarely, lighting up every fiber of her being, transforming her silhouette into a dazzling column of fire and fury. The air exploded in a deafening roar, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground, rippling out into the trees and leaving the earth scorched and steaming.
Visha felt the searing energy surge through her body, her nerves alight with the most excruciatingly perfect sensation she had ever known. It was pain, yes, but deeper than pain—a purity that cut through the numbness she had known for so long, awakening everything within her in one beautiful, blinding instant. She was entirely alive, burning with a fire that transcended flesh, piercing her soul with a raw vitality she'd never believed she could feel again.
As the light faded, the thunderous sound quieted, leaving the clearing steeped in a thick, vibrating silence. Smoke curled from the ground where she stood, her figure wreathed in the final tendrils of lightning's aftermath. Her leather jacket was scorched, edges still glowing red-hot; her hair, wild and free, streamed behind her like a silver banner.
In the thick silence that followed, the air seemed to hold its breath, the remnants of the storm hanging heavy and thick. Smoke rose in thin tendrils from where she stood, curling around her like the whisper of departing spirits. The earth beneath her feet was charred, the grass scorched in a perfect circle where the lightning had struck with its savage finality. For a heartbeat—then another and another—Visha Morticia Tanith was utterly still, frozen in that liminal space between life and death, the echo of raw, searing energy lingering in her lifeless eyes.
And then, silence.
Her skin, once vibrant with the heat of the strike, had faded to a pale, cold hue, the final traces of warmth evaporating with each passing second. The smoldering fabric of her leather jacket hung in shreds, the singed edges casting a faint glow like embers in the fading light. Her hair, now freed from the high ponytail, streamed down her back in wild waves, mirroring the ethereal silver streaks of the storm above.
For a moment, it seemed as if the world itself had paused, the trees standing as silent witnesses to this final act. There was no movement, no sound, save for the faint crackling of charred earth beneath her feet. Time had suspended its relentless march, granting her one last, fleeting moment as the charged energy of the storm faded, leaving only the shell of the woman she had been. Visha Morticia Tanith had met her end in the only way befitting her—a blaze of elemental fury, a communion with the storm that had raged within her since the day she was sold.
Then, as if the heavens themselves acknowledged her passage, a final roll of thunder rumbled through the clouds, low and mournful, like the call of an old god mourning the loss of one who had dared to touch the heavens. And with that, the storm began to dissipate, the clouds breaking apart, allowing thin beams of moonlight to filter through. They cast their pale glow upon her lifeless figure, illuminating the traces of who she had been—a woman forged in pain, honed by violence, and, in the end, granted peace by the very forces she had embraced.
But even in death, she left her mark. The trees, the earth, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with a strange, unspoken reverence, as if the land understood that something singular, something uncontainable, had been released. The storm had claimed her, yet in doing so, it had become part of her—a final act of unity between sky and earth, storm and soul.
The clearing lay silent, the last embers fading to ash, the echoes of her presence dissolving into the night. And in that silence, Visha's spirit lingered, held aloft by the energy of the storm, free at last, yet forever a part of the darkness and fury she had known so intimately in life.
As Visha's spirit hovered above her fallen form, gazing upon the scorched earth and the faint wisps of smoke that marked her final moments, a ripple of energy pulsed through the atmosphere. It wasn't just in the woods, nor only over the clearing. No—this force was vast, spreading across continents, spanning oceans, reaching every corner of the world. From the skyscrapers in bustling cities to the quiet solitude of rural villages, storms erupted in brilliant, chaotic fury. Each tempest mirrored the one that had claimed Visha, a massive crescendo of lightning, thunder, and raw, untamable energy.
Across the globe, people braced themselves as lightning split the skies, illuminating a world suddenly drenched in rain and electricity. For hours, the storms raged, shaking mountains, uprooting trees, and casting shadows over the seas. And just as abruptly as they had begun, the storms passed, the clouds parting to reveal an eerily calm world.
Then came the chime.
A clear, resonant sound, soft yet somehow piercing enough that every ear could hear it, every mind could feel it. It echoed within each person, animal, and being on Earth—a sound that transcended barriers of language, distance, and even life and death. And then, before all eyes, an ethereal screen materialized, filled with shimmering, unearthly symbols that quickly arranged themselves into words, as if tailored to each mind:
"Welcome, beings of Earth 187, to the System Universe. The Great Initiation has begun, and your evolution awaits."
Across the globe, people stared in shock at the floating screens, the glowing text drifting before their eyes as if projected from another dimension. Beings of every shape, age, and creed absorbed the message, feeling a strange sense of awakening surge through them. There were whispers, questions, and shouts, and yet each voice was laced with an undercurrent of awe.
Back in the clearing, Visha's soul, too, trembled at the chime. As the words filled the air around her, a force began to tug at her spirit, a gravitational pull, strong and unyielding, dragging her back down toward her own body. She felt a fierce resistance, as if her soul, having finally been freed, resisted the summons. But the force was absolute, and the ethereal light around her tightened, drawing her back to the scorched earth where her body lay still and cold.
Visha's form glowed faintly, her skin gradually warming as if alive once more. The deep, furious wound of the lightning strike healed, the charred edges of her jacket mending, her silver hair smoothing to a sleek, radiant sheen. It was as though her entire being was remade, as though the very essence of the storm that had claimed her now pulsed through her veins.
Then, in one searing instant, her eyes shot open, pestilence green and blazing with an intensity that matched the storm's fury. She drew a sharp, ragged breath, her lungs filling with the sweet, biting taste of rain-soaked air, her heart thundering as if to echo the heavens. She was alive. She could feel something coursing through her, something raw and powerful, more intense than the lightning that had once struck her down.
A second chime resonated, this one deeper, like a reverberation of Earth's own pulse, and a screen appeared before her:
"Visha Morticia Tanith, Initiate of Earth's Evolution. Status: Reawakened. Race: Wraithborne/Human | Class: Pestilent Harbinger. Abilities: Decay of Flesh | Sovereign's Poison | Spectral Ascension. Welcome to the System Universe."
Visha's consciousness flickered, the last embers of energy fading as the screen's words echoed around her mind. Her vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt, its edges fraying like fog dissipating at dawn. The storm's fierce and invigorating energy had momentarily made her feel invincible, but now it slipped from her grasp, leaving her hollow, as if she had poured everything she was into that one blazing moment of rebirth.
She lay sprawled out on the muddy ground, her silver hair spilling out around her like a halo of moonlight against the dark, wet soil. The smell of rain and scorched earth filled her senses, grounding her, even as her consciousness slipped further away.
She could feel the tremors of power still lingering within her, the pulse of her new abilities tingling faintly beneath her skin, but they were distant, barely contained as she surrendered to the darkness once more. The world around her was silent now, calm after the storm, and Visha's last thought, slipping away like a whisper, was an odd, unexpected sense of peace.