A Lightning Storm of Spark and Flame

Chapter 1: Present Day

Phoebe Grace Winslow awakens full of energy. She rolls out of bed and gets ready to face the day to the sounds of a thunderstorm raging outside. No wonder why she feels so alive and well-rested. With the pull of a small lever, one whole wall slides back and reveals the floor to ceiling window on the other side. Weak gray light shines into the room, occasionally being replaced by a blinding white streak of lightning. Phoebe smiles as she looks out at it. Stepping up to the glass, she opens a small section. Rain immediately begins to cascade inside, wetting the floor and her bare feet, but she doesn't care. The wind blows her golden brown hair back off her shoulders as she extends her hand out into the air and closes her eyes in concentration. A moment later, she feels a surge of energy and opens them again just in time to see a bolt of lightning strike her outstretched fingers. Phoebe's focus doesn't waiver. Her gray eyes narrow as the electricity enters her body, feeling as though she'd just ingested a whole cup of pure espresso. Instead of letting it burn through her, she points up at the darkest storm cloud high above and uses her will to mold the energy into the shape of a lasso. The captured lightning bursts from the tip of her finger, curling into a rope of pure glowing white light and heat that winds around the dark cloud in the angry sky. Instantly, she can feel the storm's immense power fighting back, unwilling to be contained. But Phoebe remains determined. Using all her strength, she begins to reel in the storm, winding her lightning rope tighter and tighter around it to keep it secure. The change in the weather is drastic. The rain slows to a fine mist Without its main source of rage to fuel it. The sky lightens into a soft blue and the sun peaks through the clouds, barely cresting over the distant treetops. Meanwhile, Phoebe wrestles The still struggling storm into a small glass bottle, and she doesn't relax until she has successfully corked it. She closes the window and walks over to the shelf that takes up the entire wall opposite her bed, adding the bottled storm to the collection of similar ones already lined up in neat rows. Miniature flashes of lightning flicker back-and-forth inside their glass prisons, Providing the only light in the room when the window is concealed. "Well done, Phoebe Grace!" a voice says behind her. Turning, the young woman smiles at the site of Grandmother standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She leans heavily on an intricately carved wooden cane, looking tired and frail. But Phoebe knows better. With Grandmother, looks are most certainly deceiving. She had raised her from a baby after her parents went on a trip and had never made it off their ship. According to Grandmother, anyway. Phoebe doesn't remember her mother and father at all, so all she knows has been told to her by the woman who Stands before her now, looking back at her with eyes the same shade of slate gray as her own. In fact, her earliest memory is of Grandmother's voice whispering to her that she would be blessed with three gifts. "Good morning," Phoebe greets her, walking over to give the elderly woman a hug. "How are you feeling today?" Grandmother's soft white hair tickles her chin. She can't quite remember how long ago she'd surpassed The older lady's short, willowy stature. But this, too, is a ruse. Phoebe knows from years of experience that her mother's mother possesses more power than anyone she's ever met before, including herself. "Well, I woke up this morning with my bones aching like crazy, but you took care of that for me." Grandmother answers, giving the newest storm a resentful look where it still swirls furiously inside its bottle. "You have grown strong, child." she adds, smiling up at her granddaughter. "I have taught you well. You are capable of much more than I was at your age. I daresay that you will one day possess more strength than even I." Phoebe laughs gently. "I know you're only trying to make me feel better," she says. "It still takes me much too long to capture them. I have a long way to go before I ever come close to your power, Grandmother!" The older woman grins, and Phoebe recognizes the same mischievous expression that she herself often wears. "Then I suppose it's a good thing I am still here to teach you." she replies. "It is imperative that you not only learn your limits, but that you also realize your full potential. But we will work on that. Now come, it is time for breakfast." Proceeding the elderly woman out of the room and towards the stairs, the girl is completely oblivious to the cold, calculating smile that flashes, lightning-quick, across her grandmother's once kindly features.