Back in his room Nom sat blankly, his hand pulling down his head, staring at specters from his past. Is my place here? Who needs me in Elocant? What do I need from here? His eyes wandered over to his go-bag sitting in the corner. Was this ever truly my home?

He banged his scalp twice with his palm, stood up and went to his basin. He gazed into the dingy mirror on the wall, bent, splashed water over his head, and soaped up his scalp. He picked up his razor and stropped it, then proceeded to shave his scalp. His tensions eased through the familiar and meditative motions. He rinsed and looked in the mirror again, his memories assuaged.

Nom grabbed his walking stick, then paused with his hand on his cloak. He blithely left the garment behind on the way out of his room, and quickly sneaked out the back door to the alley before Casey could flash him any disapproving looks. He circled out front where the air smelled clean and fresh. Bumble bees littered the air, and he breathed in deep the scent of flowers floating around on the slow breeze. He set off toward the well, then slowed to a stop, his slight smile straightening to a thin line. He tapped his stick twice and wobbled the top in a circle for a minute, then spun around and walked the opposite direction, all the way to the edge of town.

He sat cross-legged and looked out over the vast resting fields of long grass. He could clearly see the long curve out to the horizon where healthy corn and wheat sadly gave way to twisted crops and unfettered weeds. He swung his head and swatted at some mosquitos taking advantage of the slow air. His gaze settled on a gray and black stormfront menacing the horizon. The rain would be good for what few crops remained, and he always enjoyed the refreshing change of the weather. As the cicadas and grasshoppers droned, he watched the storm roll in for a while, an occasional flash lighting it up underneath. The mosquitos kept biting, so he stood up and wandered to a nearby grove as the sky slowly darkened. After a time poking about the trees and miscolored fruit, he looked back to see how much time he had before the rain hit. He was startled to see the storm almost upon the town. He wiped streams of sweat from his face and cursed the rising din of the insects and swarming mosquitoes.

This is wrong, he thought with dread. The insects should have fled an hour ago. The air should be cooler by now, and a wind should have preceded a storm this fast. A flash of lightning blinded him. His vision slowly cleared, and his blood ran cold when no thunder followed. Even the insects were suddenly quiet. All he could hear was sounds of activity from the townsfolk carrying clearly through the humid air. He started moving, and broke into a run when he heard the growing drum of raindrops over the fields.

He rounded a corner onto the main avenue into town. Folks were battening up their windows for the storm. Others hurried with carts and containers to avoid the rain. Various folk stood on the street discussing the weather and pointing at the storm.

"Get inside, now!" shouted Nom as he ran towards the center of town. Some were startled and heeded his advice, others watched him race by, shaking their heads in disapproval. The rain was overtaking him, starting to drop on his shoulders by the time he passed Lotham's. He spotted the very man down the cross avenue, standing outside the warehouse door. Nom kept running, then stopped and reversed back down the avenue.

"Lotham, get inside, seal the doors!"

"Go on!" dismissed Lotham. "I need to air out the place. There's barely any wind!" the man shouted back, crossing his arms.

Nom stopped a few paces away, panting "This is no ordinary storm, Lotham. Listen to the thunder."

"What thunder?"

"Think about it," Nom replied, then started back to the main street. After another flash of lighting he looked back and saw Lotham staring at him, then slowly uncrossing his arms as no thunder came. Satisfied, Nom ran on.

The well in the main square grew larger as he approached. He paused and leaned on it, raindrops wetting his clothes as he caught his breath. He saw Tomani and the bard holding hands and surveying the sky from under the awning of the inn. Correction, she was under the awning looking at the sky, but he was standing next to her in the rain, just staring at Nom vacantly. Nom walked over to enter the inn, staring back at the bard pace-for-pace as he went inside.

"Looks like it caught you," smiled Tomani.

"Get inside," said Nom evenly, "and lose this loser." He pushed through the doors.

It was still early for lunch, but a number of people had come in for shelter. Nom found Gitko behind the bar, rubbing down the counter, and addressed his back. "Hey Gitko, have you seen the young travelers?"

"Travelers? What travelers?" asked Gitko softly.

"The three youths from out of town, the one guy carrying a big sword, girl with goggles... can't miss 'em. This is an inn right?" Nom joked, looking around the room.

"Is it?"

"Gitko, you alright?" He reached over the bar and clapped Gitko's shoulder, who turned and looked back without recognition. Nom backed up a couple steps shaking his head. "No no no. Gitko!"

"Nōm?" Gitko's brows furrowed and his expression grew increasingly angry. "Get out. Get out get out GET OUT!" He grabbed a ceramic plate and smashed it on the bar. He threw a mug at Nom, who deflected it easily and backed up to the door. The rest of the room grew silent, aside from some audible gasps, all staring at the display in shock.

"Gitko, I love you. We all do. Remember that." Nom backed through the door to the street as Gitko seethed behind the counter but took no further action.

Under the awning he backed into Tomani, who was smoking a tobacco pipe.

"Whoa guy! Oh, it's you. That was quick. Take a puff?" She offered the pipe.

"Thanks, no time. Tomani, have you seen the travelers from—"

Nom's view smashed to the side and he crashed down to the inn's front mat, his head ringing. He slowly pushed himself over to look up, and just managed to see the Braesider's foot as it kicked him in the side, rolling him into the cinders of the street.

He rolled further away and groaned in pain until Tomani's screaming brought him back to the moment. She was hanging onto and slapping at the bard as he stomped toward Nom, still staring with that absent expression. Knowing he was in real trouble on the ground, Nom struggled slowly to rise, and the man's fist came down hard on his head again, smacking it back down to the ground. Nom was in agony, but wasn't surprised anymore. With the bard still leaning down from his lunge, Nom wrapped his legs around his torso and pulled him down, consequently flopping Tomani on the ground to the side. Nom pulled his elbow down as hard as he could, imagined it smashing the cinders on the other side of the bard's head. His elbow connected with the skull like an axe chopping wood. The bard's head snapped to the side and he lay still.

Nom struggled to push the bard's weight until Tomani rolled him off, screaming "You killed him you killed him!"

"He's not dead—just an ass."

Tomani let the bard drop and cradled Nom's face with her hands. "Gods Nōm, are you ok?"

"I'll be ok. Now listen, this is important—"

"Why did he do that?!"

"It's the rain: it's—"

"Oh no, I'm all wet too! Am I going to—"

"Shut up Tomani! Listen! You'll be fine. The rain itself isn't the problem. But it's caused by the Hollow. Get home to your parents and lock everything up tight. Don't let anyone in until this storm is over. Now help me up."

She pulled him to standing, and they traded a commiserating look before she turned to flee. Nom grabbed her arm and asked "The three from Whithom: where are they?"

"They went back to smithy, getting their gear fixed up."

He let go of her and she took a step before turning back and hugging him. He winced as she crunched his wounded side, but gave her a squeeze in return. Then he pushed her away and watched her dash down the street until she disappeared into the darkness.

He stumbled over to the inn's doorway, picked up his stick, and started off at a stagger towards the smithy. The rain pounded as he picked up speed. In between his footsteps slashing through the black, wet cinders, he could hear screams, curses, thumps, uncomfortable silences.

Lightning flashed as Nom rounded the corner running at full speed to the smithy. His vision cleared and he saw sheets of water flying towards him. Already soaked, he paid little heed and sprinted through the shifting waves of rain. They came at increasing frequency, slowing his advance until he had to stop and brace himself against the first truly strong gust of wind he'd felt in this storm. The wind abruptly stopped and the rain lightened up around him. He could see a wall of heavy rain ahead, veiling the road. Nom gripped his stick and walked forward. Several steps in, the wall moved forward, picking up pace. He stopped, wide-eyed in fear, and stepped backwards. The rainfall undulated, different parts lunging separately, raindrops flowing in twisted curves, seeming to define a shape, until suddenly a form burst through the wall. Nom spied the outline of a rider holding aloft a great mace. Nom's vision narrowed to the menacing spiked head of the weapon, water streaming from it endlessly as the rider's horse squealed and raced forward. In the periphery Nom saw other horsemen advancing, but all he could do was brace his walking stick for the coming blow, and look up to face his doom.

As the mace swung towards him, he saw a dark form flying through the air from the side. A giant sword slashed through the rain, and Nom was thrown to the ground by a thunderclap as the sword met the rider's weapon. He looked up through the renewed deluge and saw Ahden swiveling with his legs spread, holding up the pommel of his greatsword near his head, the blade angled down. Nom couldn't find the rider with the mace, but the other horsemen slowly moved to encircle them both. He tried to take inventory of the attackers, but could barely see them, only telling their positions by the water ricocheting off their forms. In panic he pulled his knife, but against mounted opponents it would be useless. He took the moment of respite to instead wield his walking stick as a staff.

Two of the horses charged Ahden in a pincer attack. The tall youth held fast in defense as they approached. Nom screamed aloud for him to engage when both horsemen suddenly froze, the rainwater blasting backwards from their suspended forms. Nom grimaced when he saw cavities in the rainfall where the cavalry should have been. While the forms struggled against their barrier, Ahden assaulted the mount on the right, whipping his long sword around in attack. Nom threw aside his own hesitation and charged to the left, wielding his staff in an attempt to dismount the motionless rider. His stick met resistance, then he stumbled as his swing carried through.

Ahden grabbed Nom's unbalanced shoulder and threw him to the ground. Nom saw a blade swing overhead, narrowly missing them both. Ahden swung one-handed and nicked a rider on the retreat. "Get clear!" Ahden shouted, pointing towards the smithy. Nom saw Omega in the doorway, eyes blazing and hands spread in the air. Dev stood in front of her, nervously wielding a mace. Nom crawled across the black ground towards them. As he neared, Dev grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him close. Ahden slipped in the mud and thrust his blade overhead defensively as the remaining three horsemen closed on him. One of them halted and broke off towards the smithy while Dev stepped protectively over Nom, brandishing his mace. Omega crunched her hands together then flung them apart wildly, and the world exploded outward in lightning, thunder, and an ocean of rain.