The sky darkens unnaturally.
Not night.
Shadow.
The storm grows larger as we approach.
It hangs over the water like a wall.
Lightning bends inward.
Thunder rumbles without sound.
It is vibration.
Not noise.
We stop at the cliff edge.
The rogue wolves are below.
Ten of them.
Standing at the water line.
Hands raised.
Drawing.
The storm responds.
The lightning arcs toward them.
Not striking.
Feeding.
"They are amplifying without stabilization," Morgan whispers.
"They will burn out."
"No," Lilith says.
"They will burst."
I step forward.
The wind hits me.
It smells like ozone.
Like old stone.
Like before.
"Stop," I say.
My voice carries.
Not shouted.
Projected.
The wolves turn.
They see me.
Some sneer.
Some look afraid.
"The brace is gone," one shouts.
"We t
