The morning sky above the Iron Valley Viaduct bruised into an unnatural, turbulent violet as deep thunder rolled through the jagged mountain peaks.
Hajin stood at the center of the three-hundred-yard stone aqueduct, feeling the freezing updrafts from the four-hundred-foot chasm below buffet his dark combat tunic.
Across the northern bridgehead, a colossal tempest materialized with terrifying velocity, swirling with gale-force winds, jagged black sleet, and blinding arcs of cerulean lightning.
The storm was not merely an atmospheric anomaly, serving instead as the kinetic shroud that concealed the massive, moving, embodied bulk of the Choral Incarnation.
Within seconds, the ambient temperature plummeted twenty degrees, coating the wet granite pavers of the viaduct in slick, crystalline sheets of treacherous rime.
From within the howling vortex, a concussive shockwave of compressed wind roared across the stone span, testing the structural defenses of the prepared field.
