Chapter 5: The Storm Beckons

At the lower district, the alleys were filled with fog due to the sudden storm outbursts where the horrific execution of Ashen took place. Residents of the lower district had different opinions with what happened, most who didn't agree with the final verdict gossiped amongst their neighbors who fed into their altered information that were filled with both lies and truth. The storm had howled as Ashen burned. And that, more than the man's supposed crimes, had infuriated the people.

Kieran pulled his hood lower as he moved through the narrow streets, keeping his head down but his ears open. He wasn't the only one seeking answers. He could hear them—in the murmurs of traders, in the subtle glances of the city's outcasts.

At the corner of a decrepit tavern, two men stood in a low conversation. Kieran tried to listen to what they said.

"—not natural, I tell you. I've seen storms take men before, but not like that."

"Aye, the way it curled, like it was reaching for him. That wasn't just wind and rage. It was so terrifying."

"The council says it's punishment but the storm knows traitors."

A scoff. "And you believe that?"

Kieran didn't wait to hear the rest. His heart was pounding as he slipped away, with the thought of Ashen's death eating out his thoughts. He had seen it too. The way the storm had twisted in response to Ashen's execution, as if it had a will of its own. The way the lightning had coiled around the tower's peak, lingering like a prestigious presence. It had not been random and it had not been by chance.

A hand caught his arm, and he spun, and his heart skipped a beat.

"You look like a man with questions."

The woman who had stopped him was wrapped in layers of patchwork cloth, her face half-hidden beneath a deep hood. But her eyes knew what Kieran was looking for and under those eyes, they carried an unsettling feeling of precision.

Kieran replied with a calm tone, "I don't know what you mean."

She smiled with an accusing look. "You know what your people did and they were wrong for doing so and you saw it, didn't you? The way the storm moved. The way it acted."

Kieran hesitated. Trust was dangerous in a city like this. "Why do you care?"

The woman exhaled softly. "Because it wasn't always like this." She leaned in her voice dropping to a whisper. "There was a time when the storm was just a storm."

"What changed?" asked Kieran half interested.

She allowed her thoughts to drift through the knowledge she possessed as she tilted her head, a matter that was sensitive to disclose. Ultimately, she opted for a more rhetorical approach. "we've all asked ourselves this question."

A sound from the alley behind them interrupted their conversation of boots on wet stone. The woman's body suddenly stiffened and she left Kieran with a message. "The council doesn't like when people ask questions, Stormguard, watch your back."

His blood ran cold. All this time she had known he was a Stormguard yet she didn't reveal it.

Before he could react, she swiftly walked into the fog as if she was just a passerby. Kieran turned, forcing himself to move as he breathed deeply. He had come seeking answers but to no avail, there was none, just conspiracy, one after the other. 

And now, he had too many.

The alley reeked of old parchment, a fitting scent for the man Kieran sought. Elias Sorne had been banished from the Spire's inner sanctum years ago—his ideas were deemed too dangerous and his knowledge a threat. Now, he lived among the outcasts, buried beneath the city like a relic long forgotten.

Kieran hesitated before he opened the reinforced door as his knuckles hovered. His mind was racing with how no one ever spoke of crossing the storm?

Before he could knock, the door creaked open.

"You move like a man with ghosts on his heels," a voice said from within.

Elias Sorne stood in the doorway with a lantern light showing his emaciated face. His once-pristine scholar's robes had long been replaced by threadbare wool, but the seriousness in his gaze remained. He studied Kieran, staring at the Stormguard badge on his shoulder.

"Another soldier come to silence me?" Elias scoffed. "Or did your conscience finally outgrow your chains?"

Kieran stepped inside. "I need answers."

Elias chuckled darkly. "That's what they all say. And yet, they think I'm crazy when they get the actual answer."

The room was cluttered with books, half-formed schematics, and arcane maps spread across a rusted table. Candles lit in wax-choked holders, and the walls lined with old books. Elias gestured toward a chair, but Kieran remained standing.

"I want to know everything about the storm," Kieran said. "Not the myths, not the warnings. The truth."

Elias exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Ah. The truth. A precious commodity in a city built on lies." He leaned against the table. "The storm is no natural barrier. It is a construct, a force designed to keep us contained."

Kieran's stomach tightened. "Designed by who?"

"Do you know how many people have asked this question, yet they've found no answers? Welcome to the list of people who are in the dark, but here's a thought," Elias said with a sad grin. " Some say the gods, some say the ancients. I say the Council knows more than they let on." He tapped the map before him—a tattered, centuries-old parchment. "This city was not always alone. There were others. Settlements beyond the storm."

"That's impossible." Said Kieran with a shocked look

Elias shrugged. "Is it? Tell me, Stormguard, have you ever seen what lies beyond? Has anyone?"

Kieran was caught in a haze. The truth sat heavy in his chest. No one had. The Council's decrees were absolute. The storm was impassable. But why had no one ever questioned why?

Elias continued. "You know the Wraithborn, yes? The cursed figures that haunt our borders?"

Kieran clenched his fists. "They are remnants. Specters born from those who tried to cross."

Elias shook his head. "They are not ghosts, Kieran. They were once human."

If the shock wasn't enough for Kieran, he would have let that revelation fly easily but this, made him deeply terrified. Kieran took a slow breath. "You're saying the storm changes people?"

"Precisely." Elias's voice was grim. "Something within it alters them—warps them beyond recognition. The few who have returned were barely human."

Kieran stared at the map with his own thoughts that rampaged his brain for understanding. If this was true, then the Council had lied for generations. If this was true, Ashen had died for something far greater than treason.

A realization bore onto his chest. "If I leave the city, I might not come back the same."

Elias nodded solemnly. "That is the risk. But if you don't go… you may never know what truly lies beyond."

The storm beckoned. And for the first time in his life, he considered answering its call.

Kieran now sat across from Elias Sorne, the exiled scholar whose very presence felt like a quiet rebellion against the Spire but it really got him thinking...

"You want to cross the storm?" Elias' voice was low and direct. "You barely survived the Trial of Thunder, and now you're willing to gamble your life on a legend?"

Kieran slowly tightened his fingers over the edge of the map. "A legend is just truth buried beneath fear. The Council has kept us in the dark for generations. I saw something during the execution but I didn't tell it to anyone because I don't trust anyone around me to keep it a secret. But I'm guessing the Council also doesn't want anyone to know about it, it could yield chaos."

Elias slightly leaned, his gaze a mixture of both enthusiasm and caution. "Could you clarify what you saw?"

Kieran hesitated, the memory still raw. The storm had twisted and reacted. Not like an unconscious force of nature, but like something alive. "It moved when Ashen's blood hit the ground. As if it—" he gasped quietly, shaking his head. "It responded."

Elias then grabbed an old book sitting on the edge of the table. He turned the fragile pages until he spotted a passage, tapping a sentence with his finger. "You aren't the first to suspect this. This text was written by one of the first Stormguard, before the Council silenced him. It describes the storm as a 'sentinel forged of lost souls.' A construct, not a natural force."

"A sentinel?"

Elias nodded grimly. "Bound by the Council's will. No one questions it because no one survives defying it."

Kieran thought of Ashen, of the map hidden beneath his cloak and the storm's haunting response. "Then we need to find a way through it."

"You assume there is a way through it," Elias countered. "What if the storm is an executioner rather than a gatekeeper? What if it was never meant to be crossed?"

Kieran straightened himself and said, "Then we'll find out. Either way, I won't rot inside these walls because they refuse to show people what's beyond the horizon."

A slow smile crept across Elias' face, one that held the kind of defiance Elias hadn't seen in years. "You remind me of myself before I was exiled. Reckless. Stubborn and Full of dangerous ideas."

"Then let's make those ideas count," Kieran said. "We need a plan. The Council will come for me soon—I can feel it. And Vaelen Strake already suspects me. We don't have time to waste."

Elias closed the book and nodded. "Then we move before they do. But tell me, Kieran—how far are you willing to go for the truth?"

The answer was simple. "As far as it takes."

Before he could speak, Elias stiffened. "We're being watched."

Kieran turned, keeping his movements casual. Near the tavern's entrance, half-covered in the dark alley, stood Vaelen Strake. His dark eyes locked onto Kieran's and they were so piercing.

The Hunter.

A slow smirk tugged at Vaelen's lips before he stepped back into the crowd and vanished.

Kieran's blood ran cold. His time had just run out.

Elias leaned in with an urgent voice. "You need to go. Now."

Kieran was quick to act. He shoved his chair back, his brain racing with a million ideas. If Vaelen suspected him, the Council would be closing in soon. He was running out of time.

He turned to Elias. "Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

The scholar smiled grimly. "Nowhere is safe, boy. Only less dangerous."

Kieran nodded once before disappearing into the unforgiving night.