The dark clouds that had been gathering over the jagged peaks of the Fenrir Valley finally ruptured, unleashing a violent storm that battered the open field stretching before the ancient stone gateway. Heavy torrents of rain slammed into the cold, rocky ground, turning the sparse patches of grass into a churning expanse of black mud and creating dynamic puddles that rippled under the concussive force of thunderclaps. The freezing water cascaded down the reinforced granite walls of the gatehouse, washing away the dirt but doing nothing to cool the intense heat generated by the crackling blue plasma dome. The smell of burning ozone from the energy shield mixed heavily with the clean, sharp scent of rain and the stale odour of old earth. Zeven stood firm in the center of the muddy field, his
