Deep within a forgotten prison, buried beneath millennia of legend, a creature lay in uneasy slumber.

  A being known by many names—Stormcaller, Sky Shatterer, Deathbringer—was bound by chains that tethered her to the ground, having remained dormant for Ages. Her presence had become a mere whisper in the annals of time.

  A malevolent gem, glowing with an ominous red light, was embedded in a collar around her neck, keeping her in a state of stasis. Her dreams were fraught with turmoil, as the world above was beset by elemental disasters that grew ever more frequent with each passing moment of her sleep.

  The earth trembled with the force of yet another earthquake. By a twist of fate, a stone dislodged from the cavern walls and struck the gem with perfect precision, the already time-worn enchantment shattering.

  It cracked. The sinister glow waned, leaving only flickers of silver before it, too, vanished, merging into the very essence of the creature it had once imprisoned.

  Aaliyah, the first of the Primordials—the Wolf of Thunder and Stars, the Fenrir of the Primordial Storm—awoke for the first time in six Ages. Her silver eyes flickered open, fierce and untamed.

  For a moment, she lay still, disoriented. Her ears twitched as she attempted to speak, only to discover that her mouth was bound by chains pinning her to the ground. With growing determination, she strained against the restraints. Soon, the chains shattered, worn from Ages past. Freed from her constraints, she stood, victorious yet still confined by her prison. Her next challenge was to escape the subterranean confines and reach the sky.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Tilting her head upward, she drew a deep breath and released a thunderous howl.

  —

  The city of Stormfell jolted under the weight of a sound that merged the roar of a storm with the eerie, haunting melody of a wolf’s howl. The air crackled with raw power, sending ripples of energy through the streets and awakening its slumbering inhabitants. Windows rattled, and the clouds above churned as if responding to a long-forgotten summons.

  At the city’s heart, nobles trembled, their festivities upended. The earth heaved beneath their feet, and the sky darkened, swirling with ominous shades of gray and black, as though the heavens themselves braced for an impending tempest.

  Aaliyah emerged from her prison, her senses ablaze with the rush of freedom. The storm’s pulse surged through her veins—a symphony of chaos and raw power urging her forward. The chains that had bound her were now nothing more than scattered fragments of a bygone era.

  With each step, the ground crumbled beneath her, yielding to her primordial might. As she breached the surface, Stormfell sprawled below her like a child's forgotten toy. Stone towers that once reached for the sky now seemed insignificant against the awakening force of the Storm.

  Her silver gaze swept across the horizon, drawn to the storm’s call, whispering of the skies. The winds, responding to her presence, swirled in a frenetic dance of energy around her. She lifted her head, feeling the familiar energy coiling within her, eager to be released. With a flick of her tail, she summoned dark, heavy clouds, and the first droplets of rain began to fall—sharp and electric, like the initial spark of a long-dormant flame.

  Yet, she was not alone. Mortal beings, humans, attempted to confront her. With a dismissive gesture, she summoned blades of wind to scatter them.

  The Storm was returning. The world would soon be restored to Balance. The time of hiding in legend was over. The Storm awaited her, and she would reclaim it. The hunt had begun.