Storms of Fury

Storms of Fury::Chapter 1

This is my new story for the Watty Awards! If you like it and want me to continue let me know ok? Because if no one is going to read it, theres no point it writing it now is there? Well ya and if yuo havent yet, check out my other story Werewolf Forest! Ok Here we gooooo!

~Alex

Ps. You pronounce the names Adira (uh-DEAR-uh) and Classire (Cla-SEAR) just so we have that out of the way....

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Lightning cracked and thunder boomed as Adira whirled in circles in the training field. Series of tornados whipped her opponents into them, causing them to fly into the air and land some yards away. There was but one left standing and she faced him, lightning coursing down her arms and her armada of swirling dervishes behind her, ready to strike.

The boy looked determined, though he was no match to her and they both knew it. He sent out a mere one tornado to match her five. He crouched down and hit the ground with his fists, causing it to rumble with thunder.

She never lost her balance for a moment as she put out her arms, sparking with electricity, and blasted the boy with a monstrous bolt of lightning. He jolted back and collapsed to the ground, his tornado sputtering to a halt as he fought with unconsciousness. She took a deep breath and let her tornados fade into nothing more than a whisper of wind and the lightning cease its sparking path on her forearms. She walked over to the boy, still on the ground, and reached a hand out to him.

"Good match, Collin," she said as she helped him up.

"If you consider five guys getting their asses kicked by one girl a good match...then yeah, good match." He smirked jokingly and shook their already joined hands.

She punched him lightly in the arm. "Well maybe if you trained more instead of gallivanting around with...oh who was it this week, Collin?"

"Sydney." He said rolling his eyes.

"Ah yes Sydney. Well maybe if you spent more time out here than with her, you wouldn't be getting your ass kicked by little old me." She took a drink from her canteen, the cool water soothing her throat that was dry from a hard days training.

"Adira!"

She turned to see Michael running towards her, his longish blond hair slightly wet from sweat. He had no shirt on and his silver Clash tattoo that spanned from his neck to his wrist was shimmering in the sunlight. Adira lifted her arm to see her tattoo doing the same.

"How's training going?" he asked, his breath shallow and heavy. He grabbed her canteen and gulped down the refreshing water.

"Yes Michael, sure you can have a drink from my canteen." She said sarcastically.

"Why thank you Adira." He winked at her. "Your father wants to discuss the arrangements today. And I'm sure my mother can't wait to help you pick out a dress."

Adira groaned at the mention of a dress. "Why do I have to where that cursed thing? I'll only trip."

"You'll do fine." Michael reassured her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Now come on, let's go wash up, they're expecting us."

They walked back through the large double doors that led from the training yard to the halls of the gray-stone castle, and parted ways at the stairs. Michael stayed on the ground floor, where his bedroom was, and Adira climbed step after step after step to get to hers which was on the highest floor, as was all of the Chief lines.

When she got into her room, she wet a cloth in her water basin and rubbed it on her face, trying to get as much sweat and grime off as she could. When she had finished, she took of her tight training clothes and put on the more comfortable baggy trousers and shirt she always wore. She tied her purple sash around her waist, the symbol of the chief line, and walked to the large meeting room where her parents awaited her.