Manifestation of the Fallen Lightning

Victor's head came up, violet eyes contracting into a still intensity that made a cut through the oppressive air in the room. The corner of his lips was pulled into a wry, almost playful, smile, but it held a sinister edge, a trace of something wild beneath leash. The tension between them wasn't just palpable—it was choking, curling itself into every recess of the room, pinning itself against walls, creeping across floors like a living creature. "The lightning… it is gone. But I… feel it inside me.". Alive, still… His words floated into the air between them like a whispered secret on a breeze, soft, nearly intimate, but heavy enough to weigh on their chests, humming with a burden that sent the hairs along their arms prickling.

Ben's breath was caught. Anna's lips parted in a semblance of a word, as if she had spoken, but the word was silenced in her throat. They stood stock-still, their eyes snapping together, seeking, questioning, attempting to make sense of the impossible in Victor's serene assertion. There was a momentary flash of shock in their eyes—Ben's blue eyes wide, trembling, filled with a mix of fear and awe, and Anna's violet eyes repeating incredulity, mixed with a peculiar, near-reverent fascination. Their chests pounded out a common beat, each drumming with the unspoken potential that clung like a heavy mist in the air, causing even the air to seem to vibrate around them. Time itself slowed, pulling out with the gravity of what waited, curving around the tenuous moment as they all stood frozen in the heavy silence of what he'd said.

Then, without saying a word, their instincts took over. They walked, stumbling forward as if attracted by an unseen string, a common urgency that drove them over the smooth marble floor. Every step had a soft, pressing reverberation, a muted percussion that sounded nearly insignificant compared to the thudding of their hearts. Victor's presence was captivating, unnerving, and inescapable all at the same time, drawing them in with a power they could not quite comprehend but could not help but obey. Their breathing grew more rapid now, hearts pounding in a harmony that kept time with the erratic beat of the chamber itself.

Ben's hand brushed against Victor's shoulder as he moved closer, his eyes tracing every line of his son's naked upper torso with a mixture of wonder and guarded examination. Each muscle felt alive under his touch—the minor spasm of biceps, the tight ridges of his belly, the faint glisten of sweat picking up the fading light—each minor detail claimed his complete focus. Victor's skin was warm, smooth, almost humming with the aftershocks of power still lingering just beneath the skin, as though it had a power heart of its own.

Anna crept silently alongside them, her hand tracing lines over the knotted muscles with a featherlight touch, her fingers sweeping down his arm. Her violet eyes remained fixed on his, unblinking and unwavering, weighing heavy with the promise of expectation and something softer beneath, a glint of reverence, perhaps awe. "Son… hold your hand out," she whispered, her voice soothing yet laced with something deeper, a silent hunger to see the impossible. "Call forth Fallen Lightning. Let it run. I wish to see it become real."

Victor cocked his head, wariness crossing his angular face. His brow creased, doubt falling across the borders of his normally controlled face. "Mother… Father… what if—?" The sentence pattered off, stuck somewhere between terror and the excitement of the unknown.

Anna's eyes narrowed, hard but patient, like steel in silk. "You can. I am sure you can. Trust yourself. Feel the energy, let it respond to you. Let your instincts tell it what to do. Nothing more is required than that."

Ben's voice penetrated the tense silence, slow and low, with the quiet control of experience. "Son… concentrate. Let your body flow as it can. Think only of the lightning. Let it run through you. That is all it requires. Nothing more."

Victor's chest moved up and down slowly, exhaling, grounding himself. Each second strained, tense with expectation. He raised his palm gingerly, nearly as if sensing the air itself, with the residual thrum of elemental power vibrating beneath his skin. The air waited, holding its breath. And then, with a faint but unmistakable snap of energy, a strand of white power trembled along his fingers. It was still at first, fragile as ice breaking, but it had weight—a vibration that resonated through the room, requiring attention, not to be overlooked.

Victor's eyes grew wide a fraction, a whirlwind of wonder and incredulity dancing behind them. White lightning uncurled from his fingers in tiny, living whorls, twisting and writhing with a sickening, consciousness-like life. It pulsed, as if feeling him, flexing to his will, growing braver, creating a mite-sized storm hovering over his palm—breathtaking, deadly, and completely compliant. Each flash etched the room with stark, momentary brilliance, shadows quivering in reaction to the electric ballet.

He sucked in a harsh breath, muscles clenched with intensity, skin tingling as if nipped by a thousand fiery needles. The marble below him protested, almost gasping with the power, echoing the curves on the walls in glimmering shards that made the whole area come alive. Victor parted his lips, breathing unevenly, as the lightning built higher, turning in the air with a life of its own, curling over and spinning as if defying gravity itself.

A jolt of sudden awe coursed through him, and he rolled his wrist, surprised at the naked power flashing from his palm. "I… I can sense it… alive," he breathed, his voice low and hushed, like a prayer, almost shaking with amazement. The lightning seemed to answer as if to confirm his words, curling around his wrist for an instant before unfolding into a contained blaze, brilliant and blinding but skillfully reined in his control.

Anna's violet eyes shimmered, her chest rising and falling with pride and disbelief. She took a cautious step forward, then suddenly wrapped him in a fierce, trembling hug. "Son… you… you've done it. You're manifesting the Fallen Lightning," she breathed, her voice rich with warmth, pride, and awe. "I am so happy… you've achieved this."

Victor's body froze for the space of one heartbeat in her grasp, a rise of sudden warmth along his chest, but his fingers stayed firm, curled over the rings of lightning that danced and coiled above his hand. He felt the power pulsating in sympathy with his own heartbeat, coiling and twisting at the slightest curl of his fingers, alive but responsive to his command. The feeling was heady, exhilarating in its naked power, and he sustained it unflinching, each nerve tense.

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