His long years in the service even before the war had taught Strolvath to sleep with one eye open, much to his frequent annoyance. He could fall asleep to the pounding of artillery, to the perpetual roar of thunder, but even a minor irregularity in that noise would wake him, as it had just now.

Even through the rain, he could discern what had happened. An impact on the ground, a smaller impact on the edge of the roof, then a body rolling onto the roof. He already saw that Zelsys was gone, that she had become entranced by the storm. He’d seen many a swordsman become obsessed with the aspiration to split a lightning bolt, so that they may replicate the feat in a technique as fast as the lightning itself. He had even assisted in performing the feat once, ensuring that the aspirant was even able to do it in the first place.

The few who survived went on to become legends, that much was certain - but he wasn’t willing to risk such a thing. One required not just the sheer skill to perform the feat, but a body and a soul capable of withstanding the strain. Most importantly, even those who succeeded in the endeavor were crippled for weeks afterward, and they did not have that sort of time.

Strolvath’s Brass Eye, though able to peer into the souls of others, saw nothing within that woman - her soul glimmered like a shattered mirror inside a kaleidoscope. Perhaps she was warded against people such as him, but he wasn’t willing to risk it. Life had taught him to always assume the worst in the absence of intel.

So it was that he took a swig of Vitamax to wake himself, roused the blonde markswoman from her slumber, and rushed to the door.

The sparks were flashing again, and she moved across the roof just in time for the bolt to strike the barrier. It had the same exact timing as before, she could anticipate the blinding flash and deafening thunder. The Cleaver slipped from its holster, thrumming in her grip as its shape shifted, ever so subtly. The feather-like teeth of its push-saw side shuddered to the sound of ringing metal, as if in excitement.

The sound of the cabin’s door being slammed open. Two sets of footsteps. “Don’t be a fool, girl! You’ll just fry yourself!” came a half-hearted yell from Strolvath in an attempt to persuade her down from the roof, knowing that it was in vain.

Zelsys laughed, fully aware that what she was about to try was suicidal, yet unable to stop herself. She didn’t just feel that she could do it. She knew. Her instincts hadn’t led her astray before, and she trusted them now as before.

A deep breath, filling her lungs to their limits, her senses honed to a bleeding edge. Zelsys felt her thoughts slipping, her mind going blank. The world slowed to a crawl, she could see individual water droplets just as they crossed through the weak point in the barrier. She could even see the momentary sparks, flashing in and out of existence all around her to the sound of high-pitched chirping.

Zelsys cast her gaze skyward, and she saw it. The flashing in the clouds. 

Even a storm sometimes telegraphed its strikes.

Just as she had back in the bunker, she had chosen to face down an unstoppable force that could annihilate her in a single moment. There was no fear in her heart, no thoughts in her mind. There was only a snarling grin on her face and a primal focus beyond the reckoning of conscious thought. 

Strolvath knew his efforts were in vain. He could see the bestial silver glow in her eyes, as if she saw the lightning itself as no more than prey to be conquered. A beast to be butchered by any other name. And in the clouds, he saw the flashing, he felt the shift in air pressure, the building static all-around. It wouldn’t just be one lightning bolt. The storm’s uncontrollable malice had found a brilliant beacon, and just like starving beasts, multiple lightning-bolts would strike at her all at once.

All he could do was make her odds a little better. He muttered a prayer to the Dead Gods in Old Ikesian, summoning forth his own sort of battle-trance. Blood-red strings of Fog escaped his right eye-socket, the Brass Eye beginning to glow a dull orange. He slammed the rest of the Vitamax bottle and tossed it aside, drawing on his skill and sheer vocal talent. 

Strolvath’s music could do many things. Stop charging locust-men dead in their tracks, make a man’s head explode, even shatter boulders if he had enough time. He wasn’t so sure it could let someone take a lightning bolt and he had no way to plug the weakness in the dome, but… He could try.

Without either of his instruments at hand, the stomping of his feet and banging of his fists against the cabin’s wood would have to do as percussion. The only song’s words he could think of as fitting were… Yes, that one would do. In a tiny moment of loose time, he noticed that Zefaris wasn’t idly watching - her hands were locked into a rudimentary barrier sigil, silver Fog continuously rising from her lips as she struggled to plug even the small hole in the dome.

Strolvath didn’t have the time to question the circumstances, and in his self-induced emotional trance, he didn’t want to. Strolvath had no clue how he could stop a lightning-bolt on his own, but he was more than familiar with strengthening someone else’s aethermancy.

The rumble of throat-singing rose from his throat, and to his satisfaction he saw the shimmering plug at the top of the dome become nearly as thick as the rest of the dome.

Then, the lightning struck and he saw no more.

Zelsys felt every muscle tense, she felt the electric tension in the air building with every passing millisecond, she saw the lightning flashing in the clouds. The air warbled and rippled above her as the gap in the barrier was briefly filled by a shimmering, paper-thin plug. The sound of Strolvath’s droning singing method began to echo, the barrier-plug became thicker, and then… Everything became light.