Azia had little choice but to look anywhere else.

  Still, she did so with something less than fear. Whatever Seleth had traded it for, against her will or otherwise, was impossible to ignore. Just the same, it was impossible to look away.

  Seleth hardly needed to run. To close a gap that wasn’t there was an easy feat, and he challenged disgust with unhesitant streams. Every ripple was as obedient as it was lethal, if not for filth alone. He was a weapon upon the darkness, fast and fluid in line with his tides. Had Azia not known better, she could’ve sworn he tore his waters clean from the open air.

  She couldn’t hear the bubbling--the usual kind, anyway. It was both a gift and a curse, by which the sludge that plagued her ears likely clogged Seleth’s in turn. If he was afraid, he absolutely didn’t show it. Azia had only his back to go off of, shining eyes long since stolen from her.

  Where she was spared of sicker bubbles, then, she could distantly catch his own. Those, too, were quick, loud and frothing yet fiercer with each swift motion of his hands. In lieu of sparking embers, it was the closest his waters would come to a crackle.

  Azia still, to this day, had trouble processing him as a threat, the currents of his blood be damned. In the face of Precipitation, Seleth was anything but docile. The collision course he’d set with idle silhouettes was horrifying to watch, and resisting the urge to intervene was miserable.

  Seeing him come within striking distance was worse. Azia’s heart risked bursting long before one murky excuse for an arm leveled with Seleth’s throat. He didn’t bother leveling his own arms with anything but the sky. He brought them crashing to the earth soon enough, anyway.

  He just barely left the sand in the process, the slightest lunge sufficing to fuel his momentum. Rivers rising high beyond his touch bore down on the world below, and he sent true rain smashing into vicious poison. The motion was startlingly swift. For as fast as Seleth had woven the sea from nothing, he’d spread it wide without pause.

  Smothered by the darkness of the storm, every sparkle of straying mists was wasted, left to fizzle and die gracelessly. Azia lamented it. More than that, all else that fizzled left her heart pounding for another reason entirely.

  Seleth’s aim was as true as his tides. Sweeping blues left silhouettes entangled in a makeshift sea, surging beneath his masterful touch. Azia had meant to ask as to how he could alter the flow, at some point. Regardless of his methods, the sight confirmed the speed. Waters raged, twisted, tore at that which was horrid from every direction. Blue assailed, and brown succumbed. The latter was excessive.

  Azia had seen it in passing, partially, albeit bound to the sand in the midst of a Thunderstorm. Fatigue had impeded whatever parts of her would’ve prioritized focus. Now, his steadfast currents were unmistakable. She’d known them to be pure. She’d doubted they were invincible, just as he was surely fallible in turn.

  Still, not one droplet came to taint his waters in full. All that touched his streams was cursed to submit, and he pushed yet further against every figure in turn. Aflame as he was, he burned the worst the sky had to offer to liquid ash.

  It was almost instant, in truth. Azia had blinked exactly twice since he’d first flourished his waters. There had been Precipitation where he stood, once. Now, there was little but shimmering sapphire. Like paper, he’d ripped through Rain without mercy, a razor forged from sharpened waves. Even squinting, Azia couldn’t so much as make out any polluted puddles below. What Seleth had caught, he’d annihilated. With certainty, he’d caught more than one.

  With equal certainty, he’d swallowed every last drop of false fixtures whole into an ocean of his own making. No fingers found the chance to graze his skin, and Azia prayed he wouldn’t give them the leeway. She couldn’t stop Seleth from taking the same risk twice. The moment his head snapped to the left, she was powerless to prevent it in full.

  She could’ve counted them. She didn’t want to, really. Already, Azia was overwhelmed--if not by the concept of an anomaly at war with a storm, then with fluid slaughter on a soaked battlefield. Even now, she didn’t want him here.

  She didn’t want him charging, barehanded, towards figures born only to poison and harm. She didn’t want to be still beneath the safety of a little umbrella, and she didn’t want to be devoid of a glaive. The most perfect of waters in Seleth’s palms didn’t ease her heart.

  On the cusp of his steadying focus, leveled with motionless Precipitation alone, she caught luminescence. The flash of aquamarine in the dark was unmistakable, brief or otherwise. It was enough to light up a grin equally aglow, stretched permanently across Seleth’s face. Where water faltered, the sight snuck between the cracks of Azia’s fear. She couldn’t pinpoint why.

  Seleth raised his hands once more. Again was he swift, and again was he flawless. If it was reflexive, Azia would’ve believed it, for how effortlessly each crashing current embraced filth. Seleth’s encircling tides were abundant, and he was the heart of the purest solar system. He shared it without restraint. What called him home barreled forth at his behest, fueled by confidence and aimed at Rain.

  He hit his mark with aplomb. Azia bothered to count this time. His ensnared victims--should she even consider them pitiful--numbered no less than four. They hardly existed for long, regardless. Just as before, Seleth shredded each to pieces, invisible or otherwise. Constricted by a river so pure, he cut them off and choked them out from every direction.

  Where there were false fingers, now was nothing. Where there were fake shoulders, now was nothing. Where there were blank faces, useless and empty, now was nothing. If there was a core, Seleth didn’t bother aiming for it. Azia would never have known one existed at all. Coagulated brown grew tangled with the fastest of streams, and he washed away all of the filth he could capture.

  In the wake of purification, stray tides splattered against the sands. Discarded or not, they were the only welcome wetness in the depths of the storm. Seleth had plenty more to spare, regardless. He flourished his fingers, and frothy violence sprang to life beyond.

  There were more, if he cared to turn his head to the right. He didn’t. Azia got her turn with aquamarine directly, brilliant and beautiful. Seleth’s grin hadn’t slipped. She’d figured it wouldn’t. Whether or not Azia could return it was irrelevant, and she clung to it while she had the chance.

  Losing it was miserable. He ran, eventually. Azia kicked herself for not timing Downfall. In that way, she was probably doing Seleth a disservice. Someone else would do it for her, hopefully. As it was, she couldn’t tear her eyes from him in the first place. With his sights set on the same newborn sickness alone, she wondered if Seleth had been hoping as much.

  “I knew this would work,” she heard Klare tease. “If the blood thing went fine, then so would this whole idea. You never trust me with a damn thing.”

  Azia didn’t have the heart to argue. She didn’t have the heart to look at Klare to begin with. There was definitely conversation, distant as it was to her left. If not every researcher had been present for the Thunderstorm, it very much showed. She should’ve been researching, too. Technically, she was. Exactly what she was researching, transfixed on a perfect anomaly, was debatable.

  “He’s…destroying it,” Cailin murmured.

  Azia nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

  “He’s actually destroying it,” he repeated, his voice just barely touched by disbelief.

  “Did you happen to see where Joel ended up?” Klare asked. “He’s usually the one that times Downfall. I didn’t feel like counting.”

  Azia almost didn’t register the question at all, whether or not she’d so recently wondered about the same. Whatever purity once again departed a skilled touch and obliterated silhouettes was of far more interest. Even now, she could see the same grin, eternal and radiant. “I…didn’t, no,” she finally admitted.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Wait, sorry. Have you ever even met him? I don’t know if you know what he--”

  “Azia, he’s destroying it,” Cailin breathed.

  It was the same sentiment thrice over. Disbelief was no longer subtle. It was enough to make Azia smile, with or without her eyes glued to Seleth. “I know. He’s…amazing.”

  “He doesn’t need to hit the cores at all,” Cailin said much too quickly. “He doesn’t need to aim anywhere. His water just…gets rid of it. You’re seeing the same thing, right?”

  She nodded again, albeit stronger. “That’s what I’m gathering, yes.”

  One hand never left the umbrella. Azia appreciated that. Even so, she was very conscious of the way her shared canopy was trembling in the slightest. Cailin’s other hand clamped down atop her shoulder, shaking much the same. Azia jumped. He was unfazed. “Azia, he can destroy it. His water, by itself, can annihilate it--all of it. The entire form. No enathium, no cores, no anything.”

  Tearing her gaze from Seleth was difficult. Again, he was challenging poison. If Cailin needed an illustration of his point, he had one more than accessible in front of him. Slowly, Azia’s eyes drifted to the astronomer at her side. “Cailin, I…get that. Like I said, he’s--”

  His own eyes were wide, pooling with something beyond shock. The fast rise and fall of his shoulders bordered on concerning, and the strain on his face was outright worrisome. He only gripped her tighter. “Azia, you don’t understand. You said he did that during the Thunderstorm, too, correct?”

  It was a look she’d never seen Cailin wear, meek as she’d learned him to be thus far. Azia was almost afraid to answer. It came out as more of a question. “Yes?”

  He still went with it. “If he could do that at Tier Three, then he could hypothetically do that during a Tempest,” Cailin mumbled, his volume mismatched with his expression. “The tier doesn’t…matter. It’s his water.”

  Azia raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Azia?” she heard Kassy call. “Klare found her friend. He said Downfall is--”

  She held up one silencing palm behind her, awkward as the position was. The quiet she earned was enough. Cailin took it as permission. “His water can destroy Precipitation. The implications of that are…unfathomable. The fact that water can destroy Precipitation to begin with is already something I can’t wrap my head around.”

  Azia heard honest to God cheering. Seleth probably enjoyed it. It was a distraction from Cailin’s distress, and she fought to ignore it. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following. I know him being able to battle the Rain without enathium or the cores is huge, but I don’t know exactly what you’re getting at.”

  Cailin inhaled heavily. He exhaled just the same. “He could be how we get rid of Precipitation.”

  There were voices. Kassy’s was involved, as was Klare’s. There were those Azia didn’t know, nor care about. At the moment, she was left to run through the same worthless sentence until it held meaning. She thought he was joking, at first.

  Azia stared. Cailin stared back. When it hit, it did so with cold calm that she couldn’t process. It was both unwelcome and not, a chill that stung her blood and seeped into her veins. In a twisted way, it was just as refreshing as the fearless anomaly who fought valiantly even now.

  “I…what?” Azia asked, her voice shaking in turn.

  It was Cailin whose tone grew steady at last. His trembling hand on her shoulder finally stilled, whether or not he clung to her forever. “He can eradicate Precipitation after Downfall. He can counteract the Rain itself before Downfall. His water outdoes all of it. I can’t get my thoughts straight yet, but this is…unbelievable. I don’t know what it would take, or what we’d have to actually do. If we were somehow able to implement that on a larger scale, though, that could…”

  He trailed off. Even devoid of shaking, Cailin’s labored breaths weren’t lost on her. So, too, was she just as cognizant of the slowing taps of poison against their mutual canopy. She should’ve been watching Seleth. She should’ve been watching for sunshine, sure as it was to come. Instead, Azia could only watch the tears swelling in Cailin’s eyes. They didn’t match his smile.

  “This is real, right?” he asked, his voice cracking. “This is actually happening?”

  What pure waters raged against the last of a dying storm contrasted with melancholic esua. The dichotomy was ironic, if not strangely sweet. The smile Azia found in return was far brighter. “It’s real. He’s real.”

  The pressure atop the umbrella lessened, as did the steady sound that came with it. When Azia tore her eyes from Cailin’s own, she found little Rain still beating upon the sand. She found little of the same still succumbing to surging blues, guided by his deft hands even now. The faintest rays of sunlight snuck through the cracks of faltering clouds above, a storm split in two by patience alone.

  Where rays fell to bless the soaked earth, they caught what purity Seleth had left. For once, in the wake of sickness, he sparkled. With or without his knowledge, wrapped in shimmering clarity, the sight was gorgeous.

  The world stilled. Seleth did the same, albeit with grace. Azia had expected him to entertain the cheering with more fervor, actually, although she was still somewhat astounded that it was there at all. Kassy was participating, and that was worse. If he heard it as it crested liberating alarms, he didn’t show it.

  Seleth’s shoulders lightly heaved as he surrendered his waters. Calm motions of his fingers banished all that remained aloft to glistening mist. With eyes forward, Azia could catch the edges of a gaze that glowed even now. She didn’t have luminous aquamarine for long, dimmed in the span of the slowest blink.

  Seleth lowered his arms. He caught his breath. He turned to face Azia at last, and his grin was explosive yet again. No amount of fighting to swallow her own was working. She stopped trying, and it only left him shining forever.

  “I knew you could do it!” Kassy cried, outright leaping into the air. The umbrella nearly hit Klare in the face in the process, although that was hardly a deterrent. “That was so cool, Seleth! You did really good!”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets as he made for her. “Yeah? Did you have fun watching?”

  Kassy beamed. Her brilliant smile challenged his own. True sunshine hugged Seleth in turn, and Azia’s stomach curled into knots the moment he stepped into it in full. She’d never left the safety of her borrowed umbrella, still stagnant over her head.

  By comparison, Seleth had never earned safety at all, and she’d long since forgotten. Again, Azia kicked herself for condemning him to toxic misery. She wondered if he could clean it himself, soaked in residue as he certainly was.

  As to where the Rain had coated him, Azia couldn’t immediately tell. She couldn’t tell at all, really. She stared for longer than was reasonable, hunting for any sheen beyond that of the sweat she expected. She could’ve sworn she caught the slightest gloss draped along Seleth’s hair. She was positive of the shimmer on his hands.

  Undoubtedly, there was dampness. Whatever it was, it wasn’t brackish, nor did it streak. His face was nearly immaculate, and he may as well have never touched a storm at all. It was a different kind of perplexing purity.

  It was distracting, more than anything. Azia almost didn’t hear him speaking, and Seleth’s proximity was almost sudden. The way she jumped was somewhat embarrassing, whether or not his words were for her. “Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

  Klare crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot. “I mean, I already knew you could pull it off. All of us did.”

  “You know, it’s okay to be impressed. You don’t have to hide it,” Seleth teased.

  She scoffed. “It’s Tier Two. Don’t get full of yourself.”

  “And I did the Thunderstorm.”

  “You seriously need to fix your ego,” Klare muttered.

  Azia didn’t disagree, necessarily. For now, she didn’t chide him. Seleth only chuckled, and Azia earned his attention instead. “This is the part where you clap.”

  She’d never managed to erase her smile. For once, Azia indulged him, offering up the slowest claps she could condescendingly muster. It was enough to make him laugh.

  “Did you watch me?” Seleth asked. “I mean, I’d hope so. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to do it again, right?”

  “You’re not doing it again,” Azia shot back quickly. “Don’t even start.”

  His grin was endless. “Did you get anything out of that? Research-wise? Emotionally? Anything at all?”

  Seleth’s jeering definition of “emotional” probably didn’t match her own. Azia’s racing heart had long since calmed. She had tranquil skies to thank. “A lot more than you’d think. It’s…going to take me a while to unpack. There’s a lot I didn’t get to process during the Thunderstorm. I finally got the chance.”

  He nodded approvingly. Seleth’s hands settled onto his hips, and bright eyes flickered to Cailin. “So, was that enough of a show for--”

  The moment he met the boy’s gaze, his playful words died on his lips. Where Seleth’s grin met with spilling tears, he could hardly hold onto it at all. His face fell, his eyes softening in an instant. In silence, Cailin stared. Seleth stared back.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

  Cailin’s smile was wobbly, at best. It was broken, haphazard, hardly one-fifth of an anomaly’s own. Still, it was just as pure through streaking tears. He didn’t bother to wipe a single one away, content to let the same melancholy drip uselessly to the earth.

  “You’re wonderful,” he murmured, his voice wavering. “You’re absolutely wonderful.”

  Seleth was quiet. When his smile returned, it was equal parts gentle and aglow. “You liked it that much, huh?”

  Cailin did what he could to slip his sleeve beneath his glasses, swiping at teary eyes delicately. “I see why they call you an anomaly,” he half-joked. “If they told me you were an angel, I think I’d believe them.”

  Azia had seen Seleth blush exactly thrice. She hadn’t expected to witness it for a fourth time here. Given his catalyst, she had to clamp one hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. To Seleth’s credit, he never so much as broke eye contact, content to match Cailin while plagued by dusting blue. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, regardless. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he mumbled.

  If anyone needed to decompress, it was the meteorologist flickering through every emotion on earth one after another. Azia said as much. “Give him a bit. Give…everyone a bit. That was a lot to take in.”

  Seleth raised an eyebrow. “Am I missing something?”

  That was an understatement. Frazzled as Cailin was, it wasn’t her place to say. “You are very much missing something,” Azia teased instead.

  She didn’t expect Cailin to laugh. He never stopped crying, immune to true sobs or otherwise. Seleth eyed him with worry, and that was a constant. Still, Azia harbored little of the same. In the wake of sickening storms, it was a first.

  There was relief that came with clearing skies, now and forever. For once, relief was born of far more than safety. To be fair, for Seleth alone, Azia was just as thankful for that.