A vortex of clouds, dense and suffocating, swirled with a malevolent intent.
Asahi and Aletha scanned the swirling vortex below, straining their eyes against the gloom. The silence of the surrounding peaks was a deceptive thing, broken only by the ceaseless howl of the wind. Yet, beneath that cacophony, Asahi and Aletha sensed a profound stillness, an unnatural quietude that was far more unsettling than any roar or storm.
It was the silence that precedes the thunder, the hushed anticipation of terror.
Then, from the churning heart of the maelstrom, a distinct shadow began to detach itself. It was not a mere trick of the light, no vagary of the tempest that raged around them. This was a form, distinct and deliberate, separating itself from the chaos. The bruised hues of twilight that painted the approaching entity were unmistakable, even from this distance.
Asahi and Aletha's heart hammered against their ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.
