… april 26th, 2025 .
is that sunshine on the horizon ? a golden hue blanched portum in yellow light. the fog started to thin, and the grass began to come alive with bursts of pale pink. the grey and dreary sky grew paler, and if you squinted at just the right angle it almost looked blue … at least, that was what aldrich nair had thought as he walked down the promenade that springtime morning. he had lived long enough to see the rise of man and the fall of it, an aged dragon with seven centuries beneath his scales. out of nowhere, his palms started to pulse.
… what is this feeling ?
he stopped and stared down at his hands. the fire that he expected — at the ends of his fingers, from the indentations in his palm — almost boiled from inside, unprompted. instead of being showered in flame, jets of water burst from his hands like a broken pipe. it gushed down onto the cobbles, soaked the front of his trousers, leaving him standing in a puddle of his own making. violently, then, water came from his throat in short bursts ; he clutched his stomach as it drained out of him wherever there had once been flame. and down the street, dahlia apeldoorn was walking with her headphones firmly in their ears, oblivious. they stepped up onto the curb, and almost instantly the nymph whirled upwards into the air, carried on an invisible gust of wind. she was whipped in a circle before being lowered back to the ground, falling to her knees, a trembling mess.
… “ this has never happened before, ” she choked. “ something strange is coming. ”
all across the town, powers started to take on a mind of their own. werewolves started to bark despite being weeks away from a full moon, vampires lost control entirely, and ghosts phased in and out like faulty projections. banshees went quiet, nymphs recoiled at the sight of wildlife, mermaids became caught somewhere between human and fish …
… and portum was thrust into a total loss of control.
