Art by Roxie

The drumbeat of the storm. The pulse of lightning. The pounding rain and wind. She walks into it. The small home made for her an Ibuki standing behind her. She channels green often, it kept her ground to the strength needed to push forward, the power of Garenbrig, of her birth court. But here, in this place, where she is seen as one of the otterfolk. Where she isn't ensorcelled. Where it is real. . .where even the fae's curse upon her seems to not exist. She realizes the whims she's followed. The passions that have kept her going. The love. The power in the moment, in the storm. She feels truly herself for the first time in her journeys through the omenpaths.

The strike hits her bracelet, the bolt dances within its gem. She reaches upward, paw extending toward the thick clouds. the scent of ozone in the air. The sky splits and the world goes white. Hear ears ring, but the first sound that returns is laughter.

Her own joyous laughter.