The Woman in Midnight Silk

The woman in midnight silk took a single step forward—and the flames surrounding them bowed low, as though the fire itself feared her. Her voice was soft, but each word carried like a thunderclap.

"The Storm Root is not yours, Kai of the Fallen Grove. It belongs to the world. And the world obeys me."

Kai narrowed his eyes. "Then the world needs to remember how to resist."

Rhea drew her blade. "You'll have to go through both of us."

The woman smiled, unfazed. "So be it."

What followed was a clash of pure essence.

Kai surged forward with the force of storm and wind, drawing upon every ounce of the root's awakening within him. His strike met hers—void against storm, silence against thunder.

Rhea danced around the edge of the battlefield, her movements fluid, disrupting the ritualists who tried to surround them. She moved like a shadow with purpose—cutting, dodging, weaving through chaos.

But the woman—she wasn't just powerful. She was timeless. Every blow Kai landed was absorbed, redirected, dissolved into nothing.

"You cannot fight the cycle," she said, catching his wrist mid-air. "You are merely a chapter in a tale far older than you know."

"Then I'll rewrite the damn story," Kai growled—and his body exploded in stormlight, the raw root essence awakening fully for the first time.

Lightning lanced from the sky, shattering the crimson aurora. The Council of Nine screamed as the temple cracked beneath divine pressure.

But the woman only laughed.

"You've taken the first step, Stormbearer," she said as she vanished into smoke. "But the real storm... begins now."

The fire vanished. Silence returned.

Kai dropped to one knee, breathing hard.

"You okay?" Rhea asked, kneeling beside him.

He nodded slowly. "I am now."

And deep within him, the root pulsed—not just with power, but with warning.

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