Chapter 25: The Beauty in Lightning
I drifted across the lake's glassy surface, my body carried by the gentle rhythm of the spring. The water curled around me like a lover's sigh, its cool caress settling into my skin with reverence. Each slow breath stirred the surrounding elements, as if the world itself remembered me—not as a guest, but as something it had lost and longed to reclaim.
"So refreshing," I murmured, eyes closed.
Then—contact.
My forehead brushed something soft. Smooth. Warm.
Slender.
Every nerve in my body flared. Instinct exploded.
In a flash, I twisted upward, a surge of energy launching me from the lake. My body arced high, droplets trailing from me in glittering ribbons—naked, exposed, but unmoved. Unbothered.
Below me, a woman stood waist-deep in the water.
Her blonde hair shimmered like spun gold, each strand lit with arcs of flickering lightning. Her arms flew to her chest, eyes wide with disbelief and wrath. Raw elemental fury pulsed from her, golden arcs snapping over her shoulders and down her arms like coiled serpents made of light.
She was radiant. Furious. Unprepared.
Divine.
"Bastard!" she screamed, electricity spitting from her scalp as it flared wildly. "Who the hell are you?!"
Her power surged—hot, volatile, blinding.
I hovered in stillness above her, suspended in the storm we now shared. The tension between us was palpable, an invisible current screaming toward detonation.
Unfazed, I extended my hand.
Æth gathered.
Lightning crackled into being—not gold, but black.
It slithered over my arm like sentient flame, coiling with purpose. Born of void, it hissed and spat, the very air shuddering as if in protest. A presence both terrible and beautiful.
"This element…" I whispered to myself, reverent. "It synchronized with me during the merge. When I bonded with that child—it fused to me. Permanently. Irrevocably. It never left. Never could."
A slow smile curved across my face. I raised my hand toward the sky.
The clouds above grumbled—responsive, intimate. Like they recognized who I was. What I'd become.
"Oh, me?" I said lightly, the smile widening. "I'm nothing special."
And then I struck.
Black lightning split the heavens. A jagged spear of darkness crashed down from the sky with impossible force.
She screamed as it struck her squarely, golden light erupting from her in a kaleidoscope of agony. The lake detonated beneath the force, steam vaulting skyward, the air boiling. Even the fish below weren't spared—silver bodies bobbed to the surface, stunned by our collision.
I descended through the rising mist, bare feet kissing the lake's surface with a soft ripple. She floated nearby—unconscious, golden hair drifting across the water like drowned silk.
"Such a violent woman," I muttered, brushing wet strands from my face.
Her head lolled, half-submerged. But she was breathing. Barely.
"I could've left you to drown," I said. "But… I'm in a good mood."
No grand gesture. Just necessity.
I rolled her gently onto her back, ensuring she wouldn't slip under. Her body still pulsed faintly with residual charge, her skin warm and defiant even in unconsciousness. A fighter.
But not tonight.
I reached down, fingers tangling in her hair—soft and golden, like the pelt of a lightning-born lioness. I gathered it like silk, and began to walk.
Each step carved quiet ripples across the steaming lake as I led her toward the cave hidden behind the waterfall.
No words. No sound. Only the hiss of falling water and the scent of ozone.
I stepped into the cave's mouth, shadows stretching long across slick stone. The waterfall's mist clung to the walls, echoing in gentle rhythms. Dimming light flickered against the cavern like starlight swallowed by darkness.
Without hesitation, I bent and lifted her into a princess carry.
She was light—surprisingly so—her body still warm from the lightning's echo, her breath steady but shallow. In my arms, she felt like something the storm had shaped and left behind.
From my spatial ring, I summoned a navy robe trimmed in silver thread. I draped it carefully over her figure, letting it wrap around her soaked form. The robe clung in all the right places, revealing more than it concealed, a sheen of water still tracing every delicate line of her shape.
For a breath too long, I watched her.
Her lips were parted slightly, soft and red. Her lashes trembled even in sleep. Her beauty was unreal—etched like art rather than born of blood and bone.
Too unreal.
I blinked hard.
"Damon, get yourself together," I muttered, slapping my cheek with a sharp smack.
Turning away, I crouched beside the fire pit and began to work.
Flint struck steel. Sparks hissed.
The dry wood caught, and slowly, warmth spread across the cave.
Soon after, I returned to the waterfall, shirtless and barefoot, my skin still humming with residual charge. The lake's cold embraced me again as I dove once more into its depths—this time with clarity.
My hands flashed underwater—one strike. Two. Three.
Fish thrashed in my grip. I surfaced smoothly and made my way back, flipping my catch onto a stone slab beside the fire.
Dusk had descended fully, casting the forest beyond into hushed shadows. Within the cave, the fire crackled softly. Its glow painted my skin in orange warmth as I crouched beside it, smoke curling around me, the scent of fresh fish thick in the air.
The sizzle of meat. The whisper of stone. The night had stilled.
Behind me—movement.
She stirred.
The storm girl.
The tempest.
Her lashes fluttered. Her nose twitched as the scent of grilled fish reached her. Then—her eyes shot open, memories flooding her like a second bolt of lightning.
She sat up fast, chest heaving. Her eyes scanned the cave.
Then her hand flew toward her hip—searching.
"Looking for this?" I asked over my shoulder, raising her sword in one hand while biting into a piece of sizzling fish with the other.
She froze.
Her eyes locked onto the blade.
Then to me.
She didn't speak. Only glared. Her body tense, coiled like a blade held back by breath.
"Is that how you say thank you?" I asked with a smirk, tearing off another bite. "If I meant harm, you wouldn't still be breathing."
She stayed silent, eyes sharp. Her silence was a weapon in itself.
Without a word, I took another fish from the spit, warmed it, and held it out.
She hesitated.
Then grabbed it—devouring it with surprising urgency. But even as she ate, her gaze stayed fixed. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.
"Who are you?" she asked, voice low, cautious but firm.
I laughed, quiet and amused. "You've got a strange way of showing gratitude—take the food, keep the glare."
Her cheeks pinked—just a little.
She looked away, then back. Her posture eased, just slightly.
She walked toward me, stiff at first, then sat beside me, her robe drawn tightly across her chest. Her body spoke a language of vigilance, but her presence… it softened.
"…Thank you for the meal," she said, barely above a whisper.
Her head turned slightly, avoiding my gaze—but not fully.
I glanced at her and smiled.
She looked away, flushed.
At the end of it all… she was still just a girl.
"My name is Damon Rim," I said casually, watching her from the corner of my eye. "What's yours?"
Before she could speak—grrrnnk—her stomach answered first.
She froze in horror.
I chuckled and handed her another fish.
She took it without a word, sinking her teeth in with a mix of hunger and embarrassment. "My name is Vera Yun," she said, voice muffled between bites.
My eyes narrowed.
Yun…
A memory stirred. A face. A name. An elder I hadn't thought of in days. A thread, suddenly tugged taut.
"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the shift in my expression.
I smiled. "Oh… it's nothing."
She didn't believe me. But she didn't push.
Instead, she finished her meal in silence, licking her fingers and wiping her mouth with the edge of the robe I'd given her.
"You've got a unique element," I said after a beat, watching her hair flicker faintly with leftover sparks.
She raised an eyebrow, flat and unimpressed. "Me? After what you pulled?"
Her tone was dry. Blunt. Disbelieving.
I scratched the back of my head, lips twitching in humility. "Ha ha… I apologize for my rudeness."
She blinked, then laughed softly into the fire.
Outside, the waterfall sang.
Inside, lightning met lightning—not in combat, but in presence.
And neither of us looked away.