Whether the storm recognised my mood as I stood alone at the window, I did not know, but it seemed to rescind from my path, ebb before my fury: good job too.
I watched the lightning splatter across the underside of the clouds only for it to congeal around a very definite area of solidity. If my eyes were to be believed then the ship, or whatever it proposed to be, was gigantic. Yet there was something spellbinding about the whole scene, magical almost. Indigo clashed with silver, gold with crimson, and through it all the gelatinous shape oozed through the atmosphere in relentless motion.
I needed a plan, but at that moment struggled to come up with anything worthwhile. The one thing I could think to do was find and protect the monks. They would be my focus until I could wrap my hands aro
