Blizzard

In the eye of the cyclone, Afanas swats down whole swarms of Belisenki like flies. I look on in horror. When I told him about the connection between the moths and these creatures that have harassed us so relentlessly, I assumed he'd use that knowledge to repel them, not to mow them down like this. But no matter how loudly I yell, he can't – or won't – hear me. It's as though something had suddenly taken possession of him, turning him into its puppet. And our enemies aren't the only victims of his fury. I see Ordis soldiers staggering and crawling to shelter, or raising their shields to protect themselves from the terrifying wind. I see scattered Bravos fighters anchoring themselves to rocks as best they can. But the ropes soon snap, and they're carried away into the swirling chaos of the snowstorm being fed by the warlock's power.

A snowy ledge collapses and is swept away in the howling gusts. I see tents lifted from the ground and torn to shreds. Fires are blown out like birthday candles. And the snow starts to cover everything. An Axiom Reprocessor is buried under a huge mound of powder, and a tree summoned by Alteration is uprooted and swallowed up in the spiraling wind. This is a catastrophe. I must do something. At this point, the cure is worse than the disease. It's as though someone were using Afanas as a conduit to pump out a bottomless well of ideas about a storm. But how to stop such a torrential flow? By cutting it off at the source? No. Before that, I need to stop the immediate threat. And I know of only one person in the whole history of Asgartha who's ever managed to stand firm against this kind of devastation…

AKESHA

393 AC