The Storm of Aztion

The strong gusts of wind blew with such relentless force outside that the sturdy sehana trees, with roots digging way deep underground, were uprooted like weeds. Rains as heavy as never before flooded the land and created seas where there were deserts. Nothing can be seen but the thick gray wall of vertical rain pouring on every side. Nothing can be heard but the persistent howling of the wind.

Such is the storm in Aztion.

Wet and trembling from the cold, Zeela hid in her cave like her life depended on it – which of course it did. She watched the terror of the storm from the small opening at the entrance to the cave, partly covered by a huge rock. The strongest and most experienced stormtreaders will probably die within minutes of being exposed in that storm, and young Zeela – with her frail body and sickly nature – would not last seconds. The warmth and safety of the cave she found is the only thing keeping her alive, for now. It has been days since her last meal, and she is weak and feverish. And so, with tears streaming down her pale, white face, she hopelessly called for help.

Good day to you, stormchild…

The raspy, cracking voice had a sound like rain pounding on the rocky soil mixed with the crash of thunder. Zeela flinched from it, wondering where it came from. Whoever spoke isn’t in the cave with her – she’s the only one there – and certainly not outside. Anyone who is outside in that storm and survives must not be human. It put more fear in her already fearful heart.

Do not fear me, child. I am your mother…

Zeela closed her eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the raspy voice. It did not sound like her mother at all. Mother is at home, waiting and worrying for me. Her voice does not sound like that at all, she thought to herself. All she needs to do now is to last the storm for a few more days and she can come home.

Home is outside, child…

Terrified by the voice, Zeela covered her ears and sat on the floor of the cave in a fetal position. She leaned on the rock at the entrance of the cave and tried desperately to find someone, anyone. “Mother… I need my mother…” she whispered with tears.

Family is with the rain, the thunder, the wind…

The voice has become louder and more persistent now, and so has the storm outside. The rock at the entrance of the cave swayed a little, moved by the wind outside. It made Zeela even more afraid than she was. She continued to sob and cry, her tiny hands pressed tightly against her ears.

You do not need to fear the storm, child. You are the storm…

“Then make it stop!” Zeela finally screamed at the voice. She could not take it any longer. She began to wail uncontrollably.

“Stop talking to me! Stop the storm! Stop everything!” she wailed.

Become the storm…

“Who are you?!” she screamed at the wind. “Show yourself!”

As you wish, stormchild…

As if on cue, the winds outside howled louder, making the rock at the entrance of the cave shudder violently. Rain sprayed violently into the cave, as if the water is purposefully trying to enter and flood it. Zeela could see and hear nothing but the storm. She held on to the rock and screamed.

The wind and rain entering the cave started to circulate around a particular area, just behind the screaming Zeela. A small vortex started to form and tried to suck everything inside the cave.

Feet lifting in the air, Zeela clung desperately to the rock, determined not to be sucked in by the vortex. She held on to the rock tightly, even as the rain made her hands slippery.

The wind and rain grew stronger, and her hand slipped an inch.

Behind her, Zeela saw the vortex begin to take form. She saw the rough frame of a woman – arms, legs, torso, and head. The storm woman said something indiscernible with a voice like the sound of a tornado – high-pitched, ripping. Zeela did not understand a word of it, but she was scared all the same.

The storm woman, now having more human details, beckoned to her with well-defined hands. She spread her arms with grace, as if inviting.

The wind yanked Zeela – forcefully and sharply – and she completely lost her grip from the rock. She is now flying toward the vortex, arms flailing and desperately looking for something to cling on. She felt something very cold envelop her. She closed her eyes…

…and fell to the ground.

Not daring to open her eyes, she felt something pleasantly warm touch her drenched face. It is the sun, she thought. She realized she no longer felt the violent wind and rain. She no longer heard the thunder, either.

The storm is over, she thought.

“It is not, child. It is far from over,” said the raspy, cracking, feminine voice behind her. “As I have already said, you are the storm.”