The rain had begun to fall the moment Elaen stepped outside, as if the skies themselves knew that the world was on the brink of change. In the city of Terathis, a sprawling metropolis built atop the cliffs of the Greyvale Mountains, storms were no strangers. But tonight, as the wind howled through the streets, it carried more than just the scent of rain—it carried whispers of a prophecy that would reshape the future.
Elaen wrapped her cloak tighter around her, her dark hair billowing in the gusts, and moved swiftly toward the city's heart. Her boots splashed through the puddles on the cobbled streets, leaving ripples in the water that seemed to mirror the turbulence in her heart. She had long since given up on the idea of escaping this fate. The call of destiny had found her—no matter how much she tried to deny it.
"You've been chosen," the old seer had whispered in her ear, as she lay in a feverish sleep days ago. "The Stormbreaker will rise, and you are the storm."
Elaen didn't believe in such things. Prophecies were for the foolish, for those who sought meaning in the chaos of life. She was a thief, a rogue, someone who lived by her wits and skills, not fate. Yet, as she passed by the stone statue of the city's founder, the twin-headed dragon that had always stood proud at the gates, something tugged at her. The eyes of the dragon—once carved in stone, lifeless—now seemed to gleam with the faintest hint of recognition.
A low growl echoed from the alleyway to her right, breaking her reverie. Elaen's hand went instinctively to the hilt of her dagger, her fingers brushing the worn leather grip. She wasn't alone.
Out of the shadows, a figure emerged—a tall, armored man with dark, piercing eyes. His sword glinted under the street lamps, and the aura surrounding him was one that she had felt before. There was no mistaking it. He was a Hunter.
"Elaen of Greyvale," the man's voice was deep, cutting through the storm like a blade. "You are the one they spoke of, the Stormbreaker."
Elaen's breath caught in her throat. The prophecy… they had found her.
She stepped back, dagger drawn, her senses sharp as ever. "And what if I am?" she challenged. "What business do you have with me, Hunter?"
The man smiled—a cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down her spine. "I was sent to bring you to the King. There is much you don't understand, but there's no time to explain. Come with me, or I'll be forced to drag you."
Elaen's mind raced. She'd heard of the King's Hunters before—elite soldiers tasked with enforcing the king's will, feared throughout the lands. If the King had sent him, this was no simple matter. But Elaen wasn't someone to be controlled. Not now. Not ever.
"You think you can just take me?" she sneered, circling him, looking for an opening. "I'm not some fool to be led around like a lamb to slaughter."
The Hunter's expression hardened, and in an instant, he raised his sword, aiming it at her heart. "I gave you a choice, thief. Now you have none."
Elaen's mind raced. She had no time to think of the prophecy, or what it meant. She had to survive.
With a sudden movement, she darted forward, ducking beneath the Hunter's swing, and slashed her dagger across his exposed side. Blood spilled onto the cobblestones, but it was not enough to stop him. He spun, his sword cleaving through the air toward her.
But Elaen was already moving, rolling to the side, narrowly missing the blow. She had no time to waste. Her heart pounded in her chest, the storm above now a mirror to the chaos below. She could feel it, deep inside—the storm was coming. And Elaen was at its center.
The Gathering Clouds
Elaen didn't have time to linger. She dashed into the nearest alley, knowing she couldn't outrun him on foot. The wind whipped around her, and the rain came down in sheets, blurring the world into a swirl of gray and black. She needed to disappear. She needed help.
But there was no one to turn to.
As she rounded a corner, Elaen nearly collided with a figure cloaked in shadow. A figure she knew all too well.
"Careful, Elaen. You'll get yourself killed out there."
The voice was soft, familiar, but laced with urgency. Elaen's heart skipped. "Jarek?" she asked, barely able to believe her eyes. The rogue who had once been her partner in crime—the man who had disappeared without a trace months ago, leaving behind nothing but a cryptic note.
"I've been watching," Jarek said, his face hidden beneath his hood. "They're after you for a reason. You can't outrun them, not this time."
Elaen felt the weight of his words. The Hunter's attack, the prophecy, Jarek's reappearance—everything was spiraling out of control.
"You think I don't know that?" she snapped, frustration boiling over. "But what am I supposed to do? Sit back and wait for them to drag me off to the King's court?"
Jarek shook his head. "No. We fight."
Before Elaen could respond, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and in that brief instant, the world seemed to stand still. There, in the distance, atop the highest tower of the city, a figure stood silhouetted against the storm.
The storm had broken.
To Be Continued...