Washed Away

Franson’s victory had been dampened, quite literally, by an insulting deluge. He’d finally done it. He’d finally conquered the Crystalline City. A feat no one had thought viable, but he had done it. Now he and his men sheltered beneath the cliff’s overhang while the rain hid everything.

Franson rose from his stone seat and marched to the edge where water with a river’s ferocity barely beyond his nose. No, this was not natural. He ground his teeth together. His victory had been stolen.

“This will end soon, Lord.” Hamish, his wizard advisor, stood beside, clasping his tome as if he dreaded the effects of the storm it.

“You said that an hour ago.” Franson glanced at his advisor. The man took a cowering away, even though Franson had managed to keep his voice neutral.

“Soon.” Hamish raised his hand and retreated, bumping against other men as he put distance between them. “Soon.”

Franson snorted and turned, stared at the water, and wishing he could see something beyond waves crashing against the shore. However, no matter how he stared or strained to hear, he couldn’t determine what the storm hid.

An hour later, the storm ended as abruptly as it began, revealing the world. Frandon moved from beneath the alcove’s and stared, his eyes going wide.

The ground between the cliffs stood empty. Barren. As if the Crystalline City had never existed.

“No!” He shook his head. “No!” Frandon screamed at the merciless ocean. It had worked with the rain to still his victory. What recourse did he have against the waves?