The Fractured Light

~THE STORM THAT BROUGHT YOU BACK~ Storms were common in Vaelora, but this particular one blew away both body and soul. Earlier today, the air in Vaelora had felt eerie; it was too still as if the entire city was holding its breath. Arin Vale was up before the sun. She noticed the stillness in the air, first in the way the lantern flames leaned without a hint of wind, and in how the scent of rain lingered in the air, but no rain fell. Patients came to the clinic with headaches, dizziness, and some complained of a low hum in their ears. A child had whispered, his eyes wide and pretty certain, saying, “The sky is going to open.” Arin had laughed it off. Children said strange things after fevers. As evening came, the silence felt louder than any sound. There were no birds, no voices talking in the distance, just that faint hum vibrating through the city. Arin stepped outside; the air tasted like metal. The hum started softly, like a low note she could barely hear. Most people ignored it, but Arin felt it in her ribs and in her own pulse. Then she heard a shout, sharp and far away. The sky seemed to tear open. A thunderclap ripped the clouds apart with lightning, and it rained fiercely. The wind tore down banners. Lightning struck so close that the ground shook. Arin ran. She pulled people into shelters in the narrow alleys and flooded streets, covering the wounded with cloaks. The rain felt alive. Hot one moment, cold the next, stinging her skin like sparks. And somewhere beyond the marketplace, a cry cut through the storm; sharp and desperate. Arin turned toward the sound, lifting her lantern, her heart already beating faster. Someone stood near the river channel, waving at her, “Down here! Something washed in!” Arin’s boots splashed the water as she ran. The river had overflowed, breaking parts of the stone bank. The rushing water flowed through broken channels, carrying branches and broken tiles. The man pointed toward a pile of debris wedged against a collapsed walkway. At first, Arin saw only shattered wood and dark cloth, then it moved. A body lay half-submerged in the runoff, face down, arms limp, as if the storm had spit him out and forgotten him. Arin’s instincts took over. She dropped to her knees, shoving aside broken beams, and ignoring the cold soaking her coat. The current kept pulling at the man's legs tugged at the man’s legs, like it wanted to drag him back. “Help me turn him,” she said. The man who called her hesitated. “Shouldn’t we fetch the guard?” “Now.” Her tone left no room for doubt. They rolled the stranger onto his back. She was shocked to see that he was still alive. The man looked younger than she expected, with pale, bruised skin and dark hair that stuck to his forehead. His clothes were torn, almost to rags. His chest rose weakly, in shallow, irregular breaths. There were strange marks on his body. Thin, silver lines that glowed faintly layered across his collarbone and chest, like lightning had touched his skin. Arin had healed lightning victims before; they did not look like this. She leaned close and checked his pulse. It was too strong for someone in his condition, too fast and uneven; he was very much alive. “What happened to him?” the man asked quietly. Arin didn’t answer. She didn’t know. But she knew one thing: if she didn’t move now, he wouldn’t make it to the next hour. She hooked her arms beneath his and pulled him into a sitting position. “I’m taking him to the clinic.” “Alone?” “Unless you plan to carry him yourself.” The man stepped back, engrossed in the superstitions and rumours that had already spread. People were saying that the storm wasn’t natural. That the gods were angry, and the lightning had chosen targets this time. Arin ignored the man’s hesitation and lifted the stranger as best she could, gritting her teeth as his weight pressed down on her shoulders “Stay with me,” She muttered. When his head fell against her shoulder, his warm breath brushed her neck, and Arin felt something; a sudden flash, like a memory that wasn’t hers. It happened earlier, when she first touched the stranger, but she hadn’t paid much attention, until it happened again. Why am I remembering things that never happened? She wondered. It wasn’t ordinary, she was sure of that. Half the things happening tonight were beyond understanding. And after seeing the faint glow on the stranger’s skin, she was convinced it had everything to do with his presence: he was carrying something unfamiliar. The thought stayed in her mind, following her as she staggered toward the clinic through the ruined streets, with the stranger on her back. By the time she reached the clinic, her arms trembled from his weight and exhaustion.