Chapter 322

In the midst of a valley where the clouds hung too low and the mountains were barely visible, there was a tale told by those who feared the thunder. The old people of the town had warned the children, but no one listened, and the tales were forgotten by the younger generations, left to rot with the elders.

But the ThunderBird had not forgotten them.

Harlan was a simple man—he worked at the mill, carried sacks of grain, and earned enough for a modest home. He never thought too much about the world outside his work. His only vice was a bad habit of cheating at cards whenever the chance arose, a quick, underhanded move to take a few extra coins. Nothing large, nothing significant, but it was his way of getting by. And that was all he needed.

It was late in the evening when the sky began to cloud over, darker than usual. He didn't take much notice at first. A storm was coming; they always did. Harlan closed the door behind him, flicking the lock shut, and sat at his table. He needed a drink. The room smelled faintly of wood and must, the kind of smell that stuck to the bones and never quite went away.

There was a flicker outside, a strange blue light that caught his eye through the window. The kind that made his stomach churn in a way he couldn't explain. It wasn't like any storm he had ever seen. No, this was different. There was something unnatural about it, and it set his teeth on edge.

Harlan shook his head. It was just a storm. Nothing more.

He stood to get his drink, but before he could make it past the chair, the earth itself seemed to tremble. The room quaked with the sound of thunder. Not the usual kind, deep and booming, but a high-pitched crack that made his ears ring. The walls shook, dust fell from the ceiling, and Harlan froze in place. He didn't know what was happening, but every muscle in his body screamed at him to run.

That's when it appeared in the sky.

A massive bird, black as ink, soared above the town. Its wings were larger than the horizon itself, blotting out the stars. The sky seemed to crack with every beat of its wings, and lightning followed its movements, striking the earth with deadly precision. But the thunderbird didn't kill randomly. No, it had a purpose.

Harlan didn't know it then, but it had come for him.

When the bird descended, it didn't make a sound. It wasn't like the thunder. There was no roar. No flapping. Just the slow, methodical approach of something ancient, something terrible.

He could feel the heat, the electricity in the air, as if the very sky itself was alive and watching him. He took a step back, knocking over his chair, eyes wide in disbelief. There was nowhere to run.

"You've done wrong," the voice came, not from the bird, but from the storm itself. It was like the voice of the earth speaking through the crack of thunder. The words hit him like a slap.

The storm swirled, the wind howling with such force that Harlan had to hold on to the table to stay upright. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, his tongue heavy.

"I—I didn't hurt anyone, not really," he stammered. "I only took a few coins."

The voice in the storm didn't reply. The bird's gaze locked onto him, and something in Harlan's chest twisted, something sharp and cold.

The sky flashed with white, and Harlan screamed as he fell to his knees. His skin burned with the heat of the lightning that struck the ground inches from him. The bird's eyes flickered in the storm's glow, and Harlan's vision blurred. His chest tightened, his heart pounding in his ears.

"You took," the voice said again, and with it came the crack of another strike, this time hitting Harlan square in the chest.

The air was thick with the stench of burning flesh. Harlan's body convulsed, his muscles locking up, his eyes wide with terror. The bird didn't need to touch him. The lightning did its work for it. Every bad deed, every stolen coin, every lie he had told—suddenly they were all there in his mind, twisted and raw, as if the storm itself was digging through his soul, bringing every dark thing to light.

And for every sin, the ThunderBird delivered its justice.

By the time the storm calmed, Harlan's body lay on the ground, blackened and scorched beyond recognition. His fingers curled into useless claws, his face a mask of agony. The bird, silent now, loomed above him for just a moment longer before disappearing into the sky, leaving nothing but the crackling silence in its wake.

The people of the town never spoke of it again, though the story was always whispered behind closed doors. The bird didn't just kill the guilty—it knew. It knew everything. The sins no one confessed, the wrongs no one saw, the darkness hiding beneath the skin of every soul. And it would come, bringing justice with every bolt of lightning.

It wasn't until years later that they understood the truth.

Lena was a young woman, just starting out in life. She had heard the stories, of course. Who hadn't? But she didn't believe them. Not really. She was too young, too hopeful, and too stubborn to listen to the warnings of old people who had nothing left but time.

That was her first mistake.

Lena's world was one of small transgressions. Lying to her mother about where she'd been. Taking a little extra change from the bakery. Stealing a glance at a man when he wasn't looking. Things most would never notice, things they would never see as wrong. But she knew they were, deep down. She'd felt it every time. A twinge of guilt. A tightness in her chest. But it never stopped her.

And she kept living her life the same way. Until one evening, when she heard the same crack of thunder that Harlan had.

The sky above her house seemed to fold in on itself, darkening like ink spilling across paper. It was an omen, but she didn't know that. She only thought of the storm, the wind, the flashes of lightning. It seemed to swallow her whole.

Lena ran into the street, looking for shelter, looking for anyone else who might be there. But there was no one. Only the wind, howling with rage. Only the storm.

And then she saw it—the bird. Its black wings, stretching from one side of the sky to the other, a monstrous shape against the lightning. It wasn't just a bird. It was a force. A living storm.

She froze.

The bird's eyes locked onto her, and she knew it. She knew what she had done. She had stolen. She had lied. She had hurt others without thinking of the cost.

And now it was her turn.

The thunder cracked again, and lightning struck the ground around her. The heat burned her skin, searing her from the inside out. It wasn't instant. The agony stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Her chest ached, her legs gave way beneath her, but she couldn't scream. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of what was coming.

She could feel herself being pulled apart, her body, her soul, every evil thing inside her being torn free.

Lena never saw the end coming.

When the storm finally passed, there was nothing left of her but the charred outline of a body, and the faint smell of burnt flesh in the air.

The ThunderBird had come, and it had delivered its justice.

No one was ever safe. No sin too small. The bird knew them all, and no one could escape.