A Storm Crowned

The storm came at dusk.

There was no thunder to warn them. No wind to carry whispers of danger through the trees. Just a silence—so vast, so unnatural—that it seemed to swallow the forest whole. Then, like a crack of the world itself breaking open, the air exploded. The sound rolled over the valley like a tidal wave of pressure, flattening tents and splintering ancient trees. The very earth trembled as if recoiling from what approached.

Selena jolted upright from her seat near the dwindling campfire. Her breath caught in her throat as a shockwave of energy punched through the camp. Soldiers around her cried out, some falling to their knees, others clutching their heads in agony. The flames at the center of the camp hissed and died, extinguished not by wind or water, but as if strangled by the very fabric of silence. Steam coiled into the air, curling like ghosts above the scorched firepit.

Then the sky opened.

But instead of rain, something darker fell.