Live With Thunder

Sorina: 

What is taking them so long? I think, as we move on ahead. Kara and her band are busy cutting their way through an overgrown thorn brush, thwacking at it with swords and spears. 

I lean against a tree and play with my knives, juggling them in the air haphazardly. They catch the glint of the afternoon sun through the gaps of upper branches — other than that, we bathe in the shade, feeling the coolness of winter's onset. 

And I am starting to get a little pissed. 

"Hilda," I mutter, catching one knife and tossing it to my other hand. Who does she think she is, interrogating Raiten like that? Wasting our time. Holding him up. Looking at him like some lost puppy.

I mean, what could they possibly be doing right now? 

I expel that thought rather quickly, for it bothers me. I don't know why I've suddenly started caring about it so much. I have bigger worries. 

Umbrahorn comes back at that moment, his harness hanging loosely from the leather fin-strap as he emerges in the center of the group. He looks worried. 

"What's wrong?" I ask. It's the first time I've seen Umbrahorn… scared. His face hangs low, eyes fixated on the ground. 

"I feel…. Something," he says. "I just don't know what it is. But it's bad. Real bad." 

"What —" 

"Kara!" someone yells. It's Hilda, coming up the path. Without her sword. 

Damn. "What happened?" I ask. I peer over her shoulder. 

"There was this — this thing that—" 

I shake Hilda. "Where's Raiten?" 

…

Raiten:  

"Little boy, little puppet, look how big you've grown," It speaks. Its mouth hangs open, but it does not utter the words. Instead, they come from the ground, from the trees, from the sky, echoing, chasing the wind. 

I back up slightly, hand clutching an amulet. Is that —

"Baroth?" I ask. 

The elk smiles in a very humane way. Then it raises itself on its hindlegs and stomps down, shaking the forest, the trees, the creek. When its front, rotting feet touch the ground, the world itself begins to change around it. What once was a warm and autumn hued environment now transforms into a ghostly, monochromatic visage: whites and blacks, negative colors, colonize the forest. Blue fire spreads forth from every step the elk takes, eating away the grass, scorching it a stark blackness. 

I crush the amulet. 

Lightning surges, sparkling crimson against the black and white domain of the beast. 

"Oh, Thunder Watcher," the elk says, opening its mouth once more but not speaking. It is like the creature is a vessel; a medium of conversation. "You do not know how long I've hungered for this moment." 

Then, betwixt the burning antlers of the beast, a single orb of blue flame begins to circle. It materializes out of thin air — as if the very opening of the antlers acts as a portal. And that orb grows bigger. And bigger. 

Until swells and spews forth a pillar of unrelenting fire. 

My eyes widen and I imbue lightning into my legs, springing up just in time to dodge the blast of flame. I watch from midair as the pillar surges past my previous position, eviscerating the grass and leaves around it, eventually hitting and burning a hole through a yellow oaked tree. The tree itself, once colored a normal oak, now fades into black and white as blue fire stretches across its length. It cracks and tumbles slowly to the ground.

"For 50 years, I remained in the depths of Jahanman, awaiting my chance to return," The wind whispers. 50 years? That doesn't make sense—

The elk begins to fly. 

I summon forth a spear of red lightning and lob it at the creature, aiming for its wings. 

For how big it is and how many appendages it has, it moves like a swift dancer, rolling to dodge my spear, which strikes against the forest itself causing another rumbling. This time, a murder of crows issues forth from the high branches, flying Southward, away from this impending battle. 

As I begin to fall I lasso a high, oblong cloud and swing from it, gaining more height above the elk. Then, I dismiss the lasso and dive for it. 

The elk looks up. 

Stares at me with its eight, black eyes. I stare directly into them. 

Then, my head goes insane. Deep pains press against the very tissue of my brain, eating away at any rationality I posses. I stop summoning lightning mid-dive, instead pressing my hands to my head. 

"They asked me, 'Baroth, how could you lose to a mere child?' And they taunted me. And they ridiculed me, stripping away my honors, my glories. My pride," the voice continues speaking. The elk meets me in the air, rearing its head down before swinging it up, impaling me on the ends of one of its antlers. 

I scream. 

Two branches of the antlers poke at my insides. One protrudes from my back. 

I try raising myself out of it. Try breaking the antler off with lighting infused punches. 

"But I was saved. Freed from my solitude by the Witch's throng of plague bearers. She promised me my elk. Promised me my vengeance." 

Blue fire begins to charge between his antlers once more. 

He's going to blow me to pieces, I realize. In a desperate effort, I focus all my lightning energy into my right leg and deliver a cracking kick to the elk's jaw. It bleats and neighs, spinning in midair, jerking me painfully around on its antlers. Then, it whips its head out, flinging me off the antlered ends. I go flying towards the far Western side of the forest. 

Blue fire burns within me, thanks to the antlers. 

My head is a mess, thanks to the eyes. 

I try lassoing to a cloud. Too far, and I'm too inaccurate. Instead, I come crashing through a foliage of branches and leaves, eventually hitting the ground with an unceremonious thud. I groan in pain. But I don't have time to rest. 

Because the blue fire does something I never could've expected. 

It begins to attack my soul.