Chapter 6 · free to read
Neo-Raijin's storms roll in off the sea. That is what every schoolchild in this city is told.
Weather doesn't converge. Weather doesn't take orders. Somebody was shaping the storm long before it ever reached the towers.
Nine names on nine plaques. My brother was the fourth.
Cornered on a gantry four hundred metres up, with a sense nobody in the league can measure. It occurred to me, slowly, that they had no idea what I could hear now.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.