At the outset, when the abnormality was noticed, it was merely a jarring splash in the sky.
It was a cloud of disordered hues, akin to a child's careless scribble on a masterpiece by a grand master, abruptly surfacing against the firmament, tiny yet conspicuously eye-catching.
Soon, that scribble seemed to possess intent and life force, like an endless blot of ink that cannot be diluted, silently spreading in the sky, tainting everything around with its tint.
Before the Chocobo's feathers bristled, the urgent and bewildered cries of the Hero and Demon Hunter echoed through the caravan.
Then, within mere seconds, a vortex of clouds akin to a fierce storm engulfed the entire sky.
