The storm continued to rage as Maia drank a steaming drink. The windows and doors had all been protected by magic to protect them from the storm and the little home felt comfortable again. The tower had been a watchtower attached to the city walls once upon a time; Maia had turned the third level of the tower into an abode.
Originally the third level was a makeshift barracks for the watchmen to switch duties during the night; a small cot bed, a fire with a cooking pot, and some old books were all the amenities available upon her arrival at the tower three years ago. Now there was a larder, furs on the walls, sconces, cutlery and shelves of books. The old cot bed had been replaced by a double bed covered in blankets and pillows. A bathroom with a working toilet and makeshift tub were in the old armour room, whereas the old storeroom was now a large wardrobe.
The tower was comfortable, but it was far from what Maia considered home. The tower was her self-incarcerating prison cell, her solitude at the end of the world was her punishment and her relief. Out here in the snow and storms Maia could forget and be forgotten.
Maia wore a constant look of mourning, a sadness she half covered with long dark brown hair. She was unquestionably beautiful; slim but not fragile; pretty but not glamorous; strong but not tempered. As with many people endowed with magic, Maia had bright violet eyes and pale skin. Maia had a fascination with the colour red and could be found wearing some shade of it, be it rubies in her jewellery, a crimson winter dress or the red hat and cloak she used if she ever needed to venture out into the snowy wastelands.
The storm let out a bombardment of lightning with raindrops whipping the windows and the wind roared. Maia watched through the glass with trepidation, electricity began to spark in the air around her, she moved to use a shield spell but was too late. The electricity broke her barriers and sent her body into convulsions again.
“How is that possible” thought Maia out loud as the final sparks left the young woman’s shaking body.
The purple lightning snapped again, and Maia launched a magical dome around her in time for the electrical charge. The bold hit the dome with a force that Maia hadn’t felt before, she pushed against the force, but the bolt increased in power. Time stopped. Her eyes glowed with purple light and levitated. With a huge roar, Maia pushed back the bolt. The lightning fizzled away, but Maia’s power kept rising. There was an otherworldly roar from the wounded storm and a hundred red eyes opened in the sky. Maia floated out of the balcony door and above the boiling ocean and sheer cliffs. The roaring storm sent out a barrage of lightning whips which simply evaporated as they hit the shield. Another roar from the sky beast signaled the largest onslaught of lightning hit the bubbled mage. The shield finally broke and Maia fell and hit the roof of the tower unconscious.