Silent Raindrops Fell (S. Strange) ON HOLD

P R O L O G U E

It was raining. The sky had opened up hours ago, thunder clapping above the city of Kathmandu so loudly that the buildings seemed to shake. Winds whipped through the usually-crowded streets, but in the presence of a storm, they'd been deserted.

A young man looked out a window, watching as lightning lit up the gray sky for a few fleeting seconds before being plunged into the darkness of night once again. This was mirrored in his dark eyes, lighting up and dying out with every flash. He could barely hear the sound of rain against the glass over the beating of his heart, slightly faster than normal.

"Mordo," a tranquil voice from behind him said. "You are not focused."

He turned around, an apologetic look crossing his face. "I apologize, Ancient One. I was just thinking."

"Ah. Thinking. Thinking is as rewarding as it is dangerous." The woman called the Ancient One smiled slightly, then set down her staff and picked a cup of tea off of a small side table. "As a matter of interest, what was it that you were thinking about?"

"Nothing of consequence," he admitted. He began to pace, his gaze still on the storm. "I just have an odd feeling about tonight."

Thunder crashed again, causing both of their heads to turn to the window in surprise. The Ancient One sipped her tea idly. "Yes, I have the same feeling. Perhaps we should end your training for tonight early. It's clear that neither of us are present right now."

Mordo nodded, then bowed respectfully. "Good night, Ancient One."

"Sleep well, Mordo."

Most of the lamps in Kamar-Taj had been extinguished hours ago, but Mordo tended to train at night. Unlike most of those who sought healing there, his affliction was not physical, and sleep often alluded him as a result. Instead of wandering the halls aimlessly, he'd begun training himself, at least until the Ancient One learned of his late nights and helped him get through them. Slowly, he grew stronger.

Instead of going right to his chambers, Mordo took a right and pushed open the doors to the library in the hopes of finding something to read before attempting to drift off. The librarian, Wong, yet another inhabitant of Kamar-Taj that never seemed to sleep, sat at his table as usual, paging through a thick volume with disinterest. He glanced up at the sound of the door creaking open.

"Good evening, Mordo," he greeted, although he shook his head at the sight of the clock that read 2:47 a.m. "Or should I say good morning?"

Mordo chuckled, then tucked his hands behind his back. "Do you have a book for light reading? I need something to read before bed."

"You are at the point in your training where nothing is light." Wong smirked, but his smile soon faded at the sound of thunder. "It's quite a storm out there, isn't it?"

"Yes. I've never seen one like it in Kathmandu, or anywhere else."

"I have. There was once a storm here, years before you came to us, that flooded the streets. Lightning struck buildings, lighting them on fire, and the torrential downpour put them out seconds later. It went on for days."

Mordo walked past the shelves, tracing the leather spines of dusty books. "That must have been quite a spectacle."

"It was."

The library fell back into silence. Mordo read the different titles, trying to decide which one to take. He eventually chose a book, bade Wong good night, and started back to his room. After an hour, though, it became clear that both sleep and learning were not on the horizon, so he began to wander the dark hallways once more. He entered in a one of the training rooms, punching a bag as he fought off his demons.