Outside, the wind rushes eerily down the deserted dirt road between the houses, complete with wooden boardwalks like something out of a vintage Western.
Even a tumbleweed blows by.
Wow. It’s either cliché or cinematic, and you can’t decide which.
Maybe somehow both.
But…where did everyone go?
Even Elena and her grandson are nowhere to be seen.
There’s nothing but the eerie howl of the wind as it rushes around the corner of the house and buffets your hair, threatening to throw you off balance.
At least you’re feeling much better. That has to mean Ziros is close, right?
A fleeting thought races through your mind at that realization: What if this storm is caused by Ziros?
What are the chances he’s capable of such a thing?
But the old woman, Elena, made it sound like this has happened before.
Could it be…what if there’sanotherwind demigod out there?
You peer around the corner of the whitewashed siding, but there’s still not a single soul in sight. Just a quaint wooden picket fence and a tangle of wind chimes where they blow angrily against the side of the house.
“Ha!” comes a wizened old voice from behind you, making you jump. Her voice is all gravel and bones, creaking like the boards you stand on. “I should have known the Chosen One would be so fearless.”
It’s Elena.
The old woman stands behind you, one hand gripping the whitewashed railing to keep herself standing, her long gray hair billowing out behind her in the unrelenting wind.
Her grandson stands a few feet away, arms folded, glaring grumpily at the storm clouds. Like he’s more annoyed by their existence than he is scared.
Typical teenager. At least, of the magical cult variety.
He’s got the folded arms and grumpy glare and long, dark hair blowing in the wind that says he’d probably do well as the protagonist of a YA romance.
All he needs is a troubled teen love interest to fall into his life.
You blink, shaking your head.
You’ve definitely been reading too much. Now you’re projecting books onto real life.
Which is probably ironic, considering how fantastical your last few days have been.
“Answers,” you demand, brandishing your tiny sword at the old woman. And you have to shout to be heard over the roaring wind. Maybe this isn’t the best place or time for this conversation, but anger prickles beneath your skin as you remember how rudely you were kidnapped. “Give me answers, old woman. What makes me your so-called ‘Chosen One’? What exactly is it you expect me to do?”
‘Grandma’ Elena laughs as if your questions amuse her, but Eli just keeps glaring from behind her.
“The monsters will be here soon,” he says, that bored-annoyed frown still on his face. Like he’s not half as amused as his grandmother. “What are we standing around for? We need to be ready to fight.”
“You’re right,” she says, glancing at the dark clouds as rain bursts from their depths, pounding onto the dirt road and turning the street to mud. “But not today.”
“What?” He whips around to face his grandmother. “What’s the point of bringing the Chosen One here if we’re just gonna keep hiding? What’ll it be this time? Whose house will be destroyed? Life ruined?”
“There now,” Grandma Elena says, holding her hand up to quiet him. “Come,” she says to you, nodding. “Let us hurry down to the basement. We’ll wait out the storm there.”
Monsters?
