CHAPTER 27: STIRRING THE ELEMENTAL SPIRIT

Stirring the Elemental Spirit

"Yes, son... you are ready to hear. Listen well. This lightning~! " Ben’s voice broke through charged air, not only with authority, but weight of generations, of millennia of lessons learned and sacrifices made. The vessel before Victor quivered in anguish, angry arcs of lightning writhing inside, coiling like serpents of pure light contained in crystal prisons. Every snapping motion appeared calculated, like the lightning itself was animate, observing them, learning about them.

The air near it vibrated and thrummed, filled with a rough, nearly living energy that resonated under Victor’s skin. Victor leaned forward involuntarily, black hair falling over his shoulders, caressing the sensitive flesh at his collarbone. His purple eyes widened, pupils dilated in awe, and a ripple of fear crept at the corners of his mind. "...This... this isn’t normal lightning." His voice shook, trembling under the load of disbelief combined with fascination.

A shiver slid up his spine, borne on the electric whispers that seemed to course in the room itself, whispers for him alone.

Ben’s blue eyes relaxed as he looked at his son, the momentary flash of feeling within them betraying the pride he struggled to keep hidden. But his voice was unyielding, rock-solid. "Aye. This is no ordinary lightning. This... is Fallen Lightning. A lightning that has awakened awareness. It is... an elemental spirit."

Victor’s mind reeled, spinning over itself in desperation. The idea seemed impossible, like something from a myth or a dream, and yet every spark of light in front of him screamed otherwise. "An. elemental spirit?" His whisper was little more than a breath, delicate and uncertain, drowned out by the buzzing electricity that filled the air. The air itself grew thick and hard around him, full of promise, of power, and of an odd familiarity that left his heart racing harder than ever before. Anna’s voice, gentle but measured, threaded through the crackling atmosphere, a soothing thread moving through the turmoil of raw power surrounding them. "Yes, son. A spirit is a creation born from nature herself," she told him, her voice measured, almost reverent, with a gravity that caused him to bend in without even knowing.

"Breathe... thinks... lives, like we do." Her eyes met his, unwavering and soft, grounding him in the midst of the dizzying spectacle that threatened to overwhelm his senses. She leaned forward a fraction of an inch, the air around them trembling in answer as if the very space itself sensed her coming. "Spirits are very, very rare in our world," she whispered, her voice a delicate strand of wonder mixed with reverence, each word carefully chosen, nearly sacred. "Rarer than the purest gold, rarer than any gem you might ever dream to have. And a spirit such as Fallen Lightning... it’s one of a kind." Her eyes caught the soft sparks jumping between them, reflecting them like small stars twinkling in her eyes. "It can direct its user," she went on, the words hanging there, weighed down.

"It shares its strength, directing lightning with a precision, a fury... something no mortal could ever muster on its own." Victor’s chest constricted, every nerve in his body thrumming with expectation. His fingers clamped onto the rim of the crystal vial so tight his knuckles whitened, ropes of lightning crawling closer as if attracted to his wonder. The uncut power vibrated on the air, touching against his flesh with a warmth and a risk that made him hurt with a blend of fear and fascination.

His violet eyes, wide and shining, caught every jagged burst, every shimmer of power that danced across the room. There was a beat, a rhythm, in the air that made him feel both small and charged, as if at the mouth of a storm that would kill him or crown him with its glory. The fact that this presence was alive, thinking, lovely, and horrible all at once pushed against him like a weight he couldn’t shift. Each breath he took was shallow, shaking, stuck between awe and the tingling rush of fear.

Outside of this room, the world may come apart, dissolve into nothing, and here he would stay, trapped in the weight of something so far out of his understanding, feeling its electric pulse echo his own.

Victor’s brows furrowed, a low tension gripping his hands as they jerked, pulled towards the soft hum coming from the container. The air itself seemed to quiver, alive, pulsing with quiet, deadly power. "So. it can. control the element for me?" His voice shook a little, awe and wary curiosity entwining each syllable. Ben’s lips twitched into a shadow of a smile, a low, knowing sound, nearly reverent. "Yes, son. And your mother is right. This lightning. it’s conscious. It has a consciousness. It has seen the world in ways you cannot yet conceive—hazard, treachery, living. Your grandfather found its power, formed it, and brought it into the Lionheart family. But he. he couldn’t quite master it himself.". Even amidst the Thunder Mountains, he paid dearly for his ambition, battered by the raw force of its might.

He lacked the attunement, the resonance you now carry in your blood."

Victor’s purple eyes leaned in, narrowed and probing, as if attempting to bore through the streams of time itself. Each sentence settled into him, weighing on his chest, the bearing of history descending like a heavy cape. "Then. Father. why did he not claim this lightning for himself?

Anna’s laughter was softly spoken, warm and rustling as autumn leaves lifted by a gentle breeze. "Because, my son, he was... mortal. Limited. You... you are something else altogether. This lightning speaks to you. It knows your bloodline, your strength, your promise. It has waited, patiently, for the one who could at last harness it without being destroyed."

Ben’s eyes shifted to her, a glint of amusement dancing in his peaceful blue eyes, though a sobriety lay just beneath it. "Yes. She tells the truth. Our line has always been the keeper of lightning, the protector of its secrets. And this. this was for you."

He let out a slow breath, a stillness about him that seemed to hold the weight of years of holding back and sacrifice. "For you, son.