Everman and Sparky (Chapter 3 Part B)mature

Lightning punctuated this place frequently, causing the air to crackle and hum excitedly as if standing near an enormous electrical generator. Thunderous crashes roared through the land with each strike of the god's fire. Blue fire danced between the blades of grass near each lightning strike. Hair stood on end and clothes clung vigorously with static to the frame of each person. The skies were nothing but a torrent of maddening colors ever-shifting in a violent storm, accentuated with a madman's pallet of purple and blues.

Pillars of stone rose from the ground randomly all across the grassy yard, each topped with a roaring inferno of blue flames. A path of black obsidian led down the center of it all, in which veins of blue fire coursed brightly. Surrounding the square lot was nothing but the storms, fallen down to the ground itself to envelop everything beyond in thickly swirling mists, if indeed there even was anything beyond. And rising high above everything, punctuating the ravaging storms with defiance, was a single structure. It was utterly black, void of light and color, and perfectly square on all sides but unfathomably tall. It soared well above the mists, where lightning often dashed angrily against the building, making as if to eradicate its existence. It was naught but a single thin tower, risen up from the sizzled ground like a sinister plant. It bore no windows. It had only a single doorway, elliptical and encircled with electric fire at its frame.

And right in the middle of the chaotic courtyard, Brice Watershaper had been suddenly deposited.

Appearing as if by magic in the middle of the obsidian walkway, Brice had hardly a moment to absorb his surroundings before being blown off his feet by a bolt of bluish lightning striking off the path, mere feet away. He landed hard upon the unrelenting surface. Crouching down low, he stared trembling and wide-eyed as two more arcs of fire reamed the nearby landscape. The monstrous roar of each explosion threatened to split his head. He covered his ears tightly, for what good it did, and kept his eyes squinted painfully as flash after flash of lightning dazzled his senses.

Moments after his arrival, a figure emerged from the circular portal leaded into the tower. He squatted down, drawing his hood tightly around him, and hurried over to where Brice knelt upon the ground, dumbfounded.

The figure neared him and spoke, but his voice was swallowed by a sudden blast of electricity striking nearby.

“What?” Brice yelled at the top of his lungs, over the crackle and sizzle of electricity that was all around.

“Are you Brice Watershaper?” yelled the cloaked figure. It was difficult to discern any of his features under the unnatural glow of the blue infernos above, and the ever-present flashes of lightning.

“Yea!”

“Follow me!”

Crouching low, moving as quickly as he could, Brice followed the figure as he approached the impossible structure before them. He launched himself up and through the ellipsoidal entryway at the base of the tower.

On the other side of the doorway was like another world. Plush red carpet greeted him as he knelt upon the ground. Around him were walls hewn of large wooden logs, a cathedral ceiling, arcing high overhead, and several grand chandeliers and tall candelabras casting the soft golden hue of candlelight over everything.

Shocked, Brice stood upright, taking in an eyeful of his new surroundings, so luxurious, tranquil, and refined. He turned to look behind him and saw, through the circular portal, the outside world, raving as violently as ever but muted from within the building.

The newcomer, shedding his cloak to hang it upon a free standing rack, proved to be no older than he. He was a tall one, full of sharp angles, with a shock of black hair that desperately needed a trim and haphazard spectacles that desperately needed a repair. Similar to Brice's own, he wore simple denim jeans and a dark buttoned shirt, short sleeve.

The stranger extended a hand. Brice took it gingerly, still overwhelmed by his surroundings.

“Hello Brice, my name is Stephen Henry, but you can just call me Steve,” offered the young man in a slightly nasal, slightly whiny tone. “Welcome to the Centerworld Citadel.”