~ PROLOGUE ~
He hit the ground too hard. This is pathetic, Anubis told himself gruffly. Falling out of bed? Father would laugh at you. It was made almost impossible to cope with his bad habit of circular back-talking himself through things. At least you provide a contrast to that crazy thing you call a sister. While his negativity was the reason why Anubis had close to zero friends, Isis had way more than him. Ra called it weakness. Anput called it a “phase”. Isis called it “puberty”. Anubis called it stupidity.
“ANUBIS!” a roar ripped through the air. Anubis jolted and dropped the papyrus scrolls he had just been about to put away. Stupid, stupid, stupid, a voice sang inside his head. “Where ARE you?! It’s about lunchtime! How long does it take you to get your things, and get down here?”
“I wouldn’t be even gathering my stuff, given that you gave me a near-fatal heart attack!” Anubis shouted back, lashing his tail and sending ink bottles smashing onto blank scrolls, leaving dark purple splotches. “And I dropped some ink!” he added, annoyed.
Anubis stormed down the wide sandstone steps. “Just what do you want?” he growled. “My day started off bad enough; I don’t need the likes of you making it worse.”
Ra, his father, jumped up to his paws, sharp serrated claws making sharp tink tink noises as he stalked towards his son. “What did I tell you about talking respectfully to your elders? What did I tell you about getting to the dining hall on time? You’ve missed your morning classes & Osiris was getting worried.” Anubis perked up his ears. “No, you cannot go “hang out” with Osiris - you’ve got work to do. And before you get your hopes up, there’s someone coming to meet you.” Anubis dropped his ears and glared resentfully at Ra, wishing with all his might that he could just let his power loose and watch his father drop dead at his paws.
Great, Anubis thought bitterly. I get to do work & get mocked by the villagers. What does a prince like me have to do to get some respect?
“Come on, Anu!” Isis broke through his thoughts and reached outward, her wide smile giving Anubis a headache. “Father says Princess Giza is coming to meet us!”
“No!” Anubis shouted. “Not her! Don't! Never! Ugh!” Anubis hated Giza. Giza was a pompous griffin who seemed to be in love with Anubis. It only made sense that Ra would torture him by making him sit through an interview with Giza.
Ugh, Anubis thought. This won't end well.
. . .
Stormlash flew through the pelting rain as the wind pummeled his wings and lightning flashed in front of his eyes. The sudden boom of the thunder seemed to fall in with his heartbeat as it played over and over, a repeating loop through his head. Stormlash beat his wings harder, flying away from the mainland as fast as he could, until nothing remained but a dark splotch against the dark grey-black clouds.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot too close to his wings and Stormlash dropped a few feet downwards, startled, before he heard the sounds of flapping wing beats behind him. “Stop!” a voice shouted from behind him. Stormlash didn’t stop, flying away from the voice as the all-too familiar feeling of panic shot through him like a lightning bolt.
Stormlash had the sudden impression of silver fur before he felt serrated claws digging into his arm. “Down here!” Another voice shouted, as the silver griffin dragged him down.
They burst through the clouds and landed on an area surrounded by blackened trees and scorched grass, the smell of fried vegetation stinging his nose. The silver griffin’s name was Shockwave, and judging from her expression, she was clearly not impressed with how he had handled things.
“Just what do you think you're doing?” snarled another Weather Patrol member. This griffin’s name was Blitzkrieg. Blitzkrieg had what looked like lightning scars along her grey wings. “Storm, you had General Thunder’s orders. What makes you think you can just fly off like that?”
“I-I just…” Stormlash stammered. “I was doing a perimeter sweep!” he explained, his words tumbling over each other in a haste to explain himself. “I wasn’t “flying off” - I was surveying the storm and was going to report back to General Thunderstorm!”
“Yeah right,” said yet another Weather Patrol griffin - Hurricane, brother of Tornado, was scowling at Stormlash, as though he were the most insulting thing he had ever seen. “A likely story,” he continued. “You just kept flying even though we called out to you. Instead of turning around to respond, you continued on flying. It was almost as if you were flying away from us, like the lowly coward that you are.”
“That does not sound anything like Stormlash,” argued Tornado. Stormlash felt a surge of hope. Tornado glared at Hurricane. “How’s about instead of making random accusations, we sit down and talk about it, like civilized wolves. Nobody gets hurt.”
“Tornado-” Shockwave began.
“There you are!” a new voice cut through Shockwave’s beginning of a sentence. Tired, yet still determined to land properly, was second in command Nephele. General Thunderstorm hissed at Storm. “I thought we would never find you!”
“Hmm… Stormlash!” Thunderstorm barked suddenly, making everyone else around him jump. “What’s the report on this storm?”
“Hmm… Stormlash!” Thunderstorm barked suddenly, making everyone else around him jump. “What’s the report on this storm?”
“Type Five, sir,” Stormlash said immediately, just as he had been taught in the Weather Academy. “From the looks of it, the wind is going to blow it to Ardensia, where it could cause immense flooding and wildfires. However, it may also turn into a hurricane along the way to Ardensia, thus causing more damage, such as tsunamis and the destruction of many buildings. The death toll may rise into the hundreds.”
Tornado looked impressed. Blitzkrieg fluffed up her wings proudly. Shockwave glanced uneasily at Nephele, then Thunderstorm, and then to Stormlash, as though she weren’t exactly sure how she should arrange her face. Thunderstorm nodded at Stormlash, but the fierce tree-scorching look hadn’t completely evaporated from his eyes. A ripple of static electricity ran through his fur, making it spike up before settling down. “Back to our Base Camp!” he looked around at the positioned guards. “Now! Go! All of you!”
But as Stormlash spread his wings, ready to take flight, Thunderstorm flared one marbled wing to stop him. “Don’t go,” he rumbled. “I need to talk to you.”
He tore his gaze away from the dark shapes against the clouds, which were starting to recede, and looked at Thunderstorm. “Y-yes General?”
“Excellent report you gave, however, you just.. don’t seem fit to be in the Weather Patrol.” Thunderstorm was looking at him with what looked like pity. "There is the Instituti Of Aurum Cornu, which I'm sure will give you the skills you need to continue. You only have to go there for about three years.
