Aephelia, The Flame that Drowns. 6.

The phenomenon known as Cloudfall is an exceedingly rare and remarkable convergence of magic and weather. In essence, a Cloudfall occurs when mana in the environment naturally envelops a cloud, enabling that cloud to hold far more water than any ordinary storm cloud should contain.

Over time, the cloud swells beyond its normal capacity, sustained by the mana's reinforcement, until it reaches a critical inflection point. At that moment, the mana field can no longer support the heavy burden of water, and the entire cloud bursts all at once, sending its accumulated waters plunging earthward in a sudden, torrential deluge, not as rain in scattered drops, but as if the sky itself were pouring out a colossal waterfall.

Such an event is spectacular to behold from a safe distance, yet potentially catastrophic for anything directly beneath its fall. However, under normal circumstances, Cloudfalls seldom pose a threat to civilized settlements.

The phenomenon is not only extraordinarily infrequent, but also statistically inclined to occur far from human habitation. Historical studies conducted after the discovery of Cloudfall indicate that in more than twenty-two out of thirty documented cases, the mana-laden cloudburst transpired over the open ocean. In those instances, the only witnesses were likely seabirds or perhaps the crew of a lone ship, fortunate enough to observe a distant column of water crashing into the sea. Another seven of those thirty occurrences happened in remote, uninhabited areas—high over desolate plains, lonely mountain ranges, or deep forests—where no town or city lay in harm's way.

Only an exceedingly rare outlier, roughly one in thirty, has a Cloudfall ever been recorded near a populated area such as a town or city.

For centuries, Cloudfall was considered nothing more than a curious natural marvel, scarcely witnessed and poorly understood. In fact, knowledge of its existence might have remained obscure if not for a chance encounter recorded by a traveling scholar of a certain country. This scholar happened to observe a Cloudfall firsthand while journeying abroad, a stroke of luck, or misfortune, as some might say, that set the stage for all subsequent study of the phenomenon.

Intrigued and alarmed by what he saw, the scholar documented every detail he could: the unusual hue of mana limning the cloud's edges, the unnatural volume of water released, and the suddenness of the burst. Upon returning home, he presented his report to the royal court of his country, urging that Cloudfall be investigated further, not only as a subject of natural philosophy, but also for any potential danger it could pose.

Initial reactions to the scholar's report ranged from skepticism to awe. Many magisters in his homeland found it difficult to accept that mana could spontaneously collect on a cloud without direct magical intent. Yet the evidence, the sheer scale of destruction he described, was compelling enough to warrant official inquiry.

Soon, a small grant was allocated and a team of weather-mages and researchers assembled to study Cloudfall under controlled conditions.

They had two goals: first, to verify that such mana-weather interactions could indeed occur naturally; and second, to see if the effect could be reproduced, or perhaps even induced, by human hands.

Recreating a Cloudfall in a laboratory or testing field proved far from easy. The scholar's team theorized that if mana could naturally seep into a cloud under rare conditions, then perhaps mages could artificially infuse mana into a typical raincloud to mimic the phenomenon.

Early experiments were met with repeated failures. Attempts to saturate small clouds with mana often led to the clouds dissipating or discharging their moisture in ordinary rain before any critical mass was achieved.

On other occasions, the mana infusion destabilized the cloud entirely, causing it to disperse or triggering violent electrical storms instead of the desired controlled deluge.

The researchers lacked both the comprehensive understanding of how mana behaved in this field and the refined techniques needed to manage large-scale weather magic, leading to many dead ends and a few dangerous accidents.

Despite these setbacks, the pursuit continued, driven by scientific curiosity and subtle prompting from military patrons. Over time, and after numerous refinements of theory, including consultations with elemental sorcerers, the team learned how to maintain the delicate balance of mana within a cloud.

They discovered that a slow, steady infusion worked better than a sudden surge of power, allowing a cloud to grow gradually while the mana woven through it acted like an invisible net, holding the water in.

They also realized that weather conditions had to be just right: the target cloud needed to be already heavy with moisture to begin with, and the surrounding air had to remain stable so as not to tear the growing cloud apart mid-process.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

After many months of trial and error, a breakthrough finally came.

The mages successfully induced a controlled Cloudfall on a small scale over an uninhabited valley. From a single engorged cloud, an entire pond's worth of water cascaded to the earth in one mighty fall. The test was both awe-inspiring and terrifying for the observers, as it confirmed that the phenomenon was real and reproducible.

News of this success was relayed to the royal court. What had started as an academic inquiry had now revealed a tool of immense destructive potential, and the country's leaders were quick to recognize its strategic significance.

Once the secret of artificially creating a mana-saturated cloud was unsealed, the transition from scholarly experiment to military application was quick and direct. The kingdom that sponsored the research wasted no time in deploying this newfound power against its foes. The very first offensive use of a Cloudfall occurred during a border conflict, catching the enemy completely unprepared.

On a clear summer day, what appeared to be an innocuous thundercloud drifted toward an enemy fortified camp. Unbeknownst to the soldiers below, that cloud had been deliberately imbued with mana and guided to hover directly above them.

At the appointed moment, the mana net holding the cloud's vast store of water was dispelled. In an instant, millions of tons of water crashed down onto the camp. The sudden flood battered tents and fortifications flat.

Men and horses were swept off their feet, the hard ground turning to mud.

By the time the water settled, the camp had been utterly devastated. Survivors spoke in shock about a wall of water descending from a single dark cloud; outside witnesses, however, simply assumed a freak disaster had struck.

The attack was quietly passed off as a natural disaster, and the kingdom's involvement remained a secret.

Emboldened by this success, the kingdom planned a second Cloudfall strike as the war continued. However, after their next attempt, the enemy nation had grown wary and suspicious.

The sheer improbability of two devastating "natural" disasters occurring in short succession, both conveniently striking strategic targets, did not escape the notice of the enemy's tacticians and mages.

Thus, when a similar dark cloud appeared again weeks later, spotted a distance away being carried by wind towards one of their border fortresses, the enemy was prepared.

Alarms were raised, and the defensive mages hastily attempted counter-spells. The third Cloudfall still struck, a torrential column of water smashing down onto the fortress, but the defenders' efforts were not in vain.

They managed to weaken the Cloudfall by opening the far end of the cloud, diverting much of the waterfall into a different empty location. The fortress was damaged but not utterly destroyed. More importantly, the enemy now had confirmation that the disaster had been engineered by human hands and magic.

Outraged and determined to retaliate in kind, the enemy kingdom immediately poured resources into studying and replicating the Cloudfall phenomenon for themselves. Their mages, armed with knowledge gleaned from the mana traces and lessons learned during the second attack, worked feverishly to create their own weaponized raincloud.

It did not take long for them to succeed. The underlying principles had already been demonstrated, and wartime urgency spurred innovation.

Soon enough, the original perpetrators of the Cloudfall found their own skies darkening with an all-too-familiar menace. In a bold counterattack, the rival kingdom launched its own Cloudfall against a critical supply city of the first kingdom, wreaking havoc and proving that they too now commanded this terrifying power.

What began as one nation's secret weapon spiraled into an arms race of arcane weather manipulation.

The widespread use of Cloudfall in warfare, however, was short-lived.

Once both sides possessed the capability, the element of surprise was lost. Knowledge of the phenomenon, and, more importantly, how to detect and counter it, spread rapidly across the land among all major powers.

The scholar who first documented Cloudfall lived to see his discovery become common knowledge in military circles. In the aftermath, treaties even began to include clauses forbidding the use of mana-crafted disasters, much as they banned catastrophy-level poisons or plaguecraft, though not every nation could be trusted to comply.

Fortunately for the common folk, a naturally occurring Cloudfall, frightening as it sounded, turned out to be a catastrophe that was actually quite easily deterred by knowledgeable defenders.

Once the telltale signs were understood, early intervention could prevent most harm. There are two simple but effective countermeasures known to nullify a developing Cloudfall, and both are now taught routinely to battlemages across nations.

The first method was to disperse the mana holding the cloud together while it was still growing. By assailing the cloud with a precise dispelling spell or launching penetrative spells into it, defenders can "pop" the mana surrounding it before the water load became overwhelming, causing the cloud to break apart or to rain out in a normal, more manageable shower.

The second method was more straightforward: use wind magic to blow the engorged cloud off its path, steering it away from populated areas. If forced to empty itself over the open sea or an uninhabited region, the Cloudfall will harmlessly expend on empty area.

Crucially, both of these defenses rely on early detection. Thankfully, a growing Cloudfall announces itself to those with the means to sense it.

A thin coating of mana always suffuses the cloud's mass, a signature that can be picked up by any sorcerer or scout attuned to detection.

With watchmen simply adding the occassional scanning of the skies to their list of duties, it was rare for a Cloudfall to catch a city or stronghold unaware in modern times. Only extraordinary negligence, or a cleverly disguised attempt, would allow such a disaster to slip by undetected.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.