Prologue: Savage Lightning

That December night, the mysteriously dark clouds crackled with the visible energy, from the eminent storm, and the storm struck the lonely shores of the peninsula. There were few who would brave such weather, yet, a single woman walked with a practiced grace onto the shimmering crystal sand. In the gentle breeze, which was cool upon her delicate features, her emerald green cloak billowed behind her as she made her way to the gentle surface of the frozen water. Every step on the coarse white sand, which was warm on her feet, lead her closer to her destination. It was devastatingly quiet, there at Lunlia lake.

 

Quickly fading bubbles, black in the light of the unfeeling moon, were the first sign of the heads of the many strange creatures that rose. Placid, due to sleepiness, alone, from the lake; poking large holes in the ice as they did so. Perhaps they knew, from the undoubtedly honed senses of the beast, what the appearance of the woman meant. More likely the ripples were from the spectacular event that was slowly beginning to reveal its power. As the bare-footed woman walked on the ice, it began to readily melt away; the edges of the woman's magnificent green cloak was immersed in the clear water. The rest of the area was also bound to her power, taking their commands from the silent language of her flashing eyes.

 

Soon, the deserted area of Lunlia lake was completely untouched by the winter's weather. A slow and steady ripple disturbed --with a cool decency that man or woman will never understand-- the residents of the water. Unfortunately, no one was there to witness the miracle. The houses in the beachy area of Lunlia lake were mostly second homes for the wealthy people in the country of Estivea, and as such, they were boarded up. Waiting for the hand of a servant to hastily unlock them in the spring, preparing busily for the return of their masters in the warmth of the summer sun. Just picture it: The steady silence of the night, disturbed.

 

The gust of wind caused the houses to quiver back in forth in fear, the closest to pacing a house can come to, as the woman raised her hand to the December's opaque midnight sky. 'Twas then it began, the second half. An unnameable sound, without rhythm, rhyme, or reason, began to sound. This was no ordinary drum, it was the drum of hell itself; played by by those who had condemned and corrupted both their physical persona and their immortal souls. That terrible sound was what the desperate, remorseful peals of thunder and lightning sounded like, and every time it sounded its cry another creature of the deep would slowly return to the safety of the impossibly unfrozen water.

 

After the last fish had returned hurriedly to its fishy bed, a beam of blue and green light formed without warning or knowledge of its sudden appearance. The light had some primitive knowledge that it had to find its master's hand, for it had been called and the bonds of the oath would not break. The oath it thought of was long forgotten, the records that held the secret of the power had long since faded to dust in the wind. At best, it was far away from the freshly falling snow. Amidst the chaos, the woman let down her hand, gazed fondly at her preciously summoned storm, and smiled.

Slowly, with a practiced air, the woman lowered her hand. Clear beads of sweat were visible on her high forehead, rolling down past her distinct features. There was a somewhat concerned look on her young, solemn face as she let her hand come down, for she felt a great force moving towards the land. To her, this storm was merely a harbinger of what was to come, a warning that sounded like the fierce roar of a lion, in both head and gentle heart.

 

You see, for stormbringers, feeling a storm is as natural as a tailor using cloth, or a farmer tenderly watering his crops. However, what Susan Liae felt was something else. Some strong emotion, which was moving towards Lunlia, hidden in a blanket of the thickest fog. Susan moved her hands as though gathering the air around her, and closed her eyes. The feel of her long, black lashes against her pale face was a warm relief against the cold of the Aboroeian winter.

 

The wild energy she had trapped in the area between her pianist-like hands was what the valiant stormbringer was going to use to put to rest the feeling of cool ill-ease in her heart, but her efforts were in vain. After just a few moments inside the penetrated dimension of power, she found what she feared she would find. Letting it go, she fell backwords, onto her place upon the moon-soaked sand. What few bits of the light green cloth were not trapped under Susan billowed crazily, a bright green light against the emptily white snow. She opened hereyes, and the characteristic blue eyes of a stormbringer greeted the world a third time that day.

 

The news weighed Susan down, she felt too burdened with what was to come. Her death was coming,as Susan had seen mere moments before, she could not escape it. She had to warn her sister, Sariel, and her little jewels of children before it was too late. Ignoring her heavy heart, she sat up with a determined expression and made her way to the purple and blue mountains that were like mocking shadows in the distance.

She only hoped she was not too late...