Angeline Huaji looked out her window and knew things weren't getting better anytime soon. The rain would continue falling, because when disaster strikes, it does not mean the sun is coming up. It means that you are in a storm. But Angeline was ready to survive the storm.

"Angie, baby?" called a voice.

"In here, Mom," Angeline replied, still staring out the window. The door to Angeline's room creaked open, and Mrs. Huaji's head poked in.

"Hey, hon," she said, forcing a grin. "You okay?"

"No," Angeline replied glumly. "And before you ask, no, there is nothing you can do to make it better." Mrs. Huaji sighed mentally, but kept up the mask of a smile as she sat on the edge of her daughter's bed.

"I may not have super powers, missy, but I think I can help." Angeline just stared into the rain.

"The bed's too empty," she said at last. "The treats on the counter don't get stolen fast enough, and there's not nearly enough arguing over who gets the good chair." Mrs. Huaji gently guided Angeline's head to her shoulder, where it rested, eyes still on the rain.

"Oh, baby, I miss her too." It hadn't been a week since Axle had left, and the emotional blow had shaken both Angeline and her mother badly. In a small house such as their own, the departure of Angeline's sister had made the place feel all the emptier. At first, both mother and daughter had hoped that Axle may cool off and return. But as the hours, and then days, rolled by, it was increasingly obvious that Axle wasn't going to return.

All because of a stupid toy, Angeline thought bitterly. She'd been shocked when she'd found Axle beginning to bury Louis the stuffed elephant. Louis was the one and only reminder that the girls had of their father, and they both treasured him. So there had been an emotional reaction when Axle tried to bury him. Her reasoning had involved "moving on" and "living with the living", but Angeline had angrily shut down any attempt to explain. She'd simply grabbed Louis and stalked back to the little house, fuming. Louis was particularly valuable to Angeline, due to her magical ability that allowed her to see ghosts and phantoms. She didn't see either often, but thought that maybe Louis could somehow help her father's ghost someday, even if he hadn't died in the house. Axle had then returned, too, and although Mrs. Huaji was suspicious of the tension between her daughters, she didn't ask questions. The whole thing seemed to have rolled over until, somehow or another, it was brought up in a conversation between the sisters. It had, unsurprisingly, led to another argument, and...

A tear slid down Angeline's face. She hadn't meant to grab the vase. She really hadn't.

But Axle didn't pause to ask about Angeline's intentions. She just ran. Angeline, despaired at what she'd done, had told her mother, and then the two waited for Axle to come home. They'd waited for an agonizing hour. And then another. And another. And another.

"I want her back, Mom," Angeline whimpered, more tears sliding down her cheeks. "I want her back so bad!"

"I know, baby," Mrs. Huaji said calming, fighting away tears of her own. "I do, too. But we'll be okay. I was downright petrified when your father died, and I was left with two crazy girls to look after." Mrs. Huaji ruffled Angeline's hair affectionately. "But I'd like to think that we did okay. So, if Axle doesn't come back, then we'll just... recover. Yes, that's the word. We'll recover, together." Angeline drew a shaky breath, her tears ending.

"I can do that," she said, breathing out deeply. Mrs. Huaji planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead.

"I know you can, baby." The older female stood and left the room, and Angeline looked around the room, wondering what to do. She paused as her vision swept past the window.

And so, Angeline sat in her room, looking out the window, knowing that things weren't getting better anytime soon. And that was why she had to be brave, and weather the storm.

***

Delire Tacking knew about the storm. But it didn't affect him. It was somewhere far away, and he was safe from it. His life was going just fine. He was getting good grades in his school, which was a small school. He didn't attend the little school due to lack of money, though. His parents both brought in enough to keep the family comfortable. No, the small size was due to the fact that Delire, like both of his brothers, had a magical talent. So did both of his parents. But not everyone in the small town (again, picked by choice) had a magic ability. In fact, Delire didn't know anyone outside of his family who did. So their talents had to be kept secret, and their identities carefully guarded. But still, even with all the need for secrecy, the Tackings weren't a jumpy or untrusting family. No one suspected them of anything. To the rest of the town, they were just a normal family. Each member had friends and rivals.

But what Delire's friends didn't know was that he could bend at create shadows at will. He could throw shadowy orbs, create barriers of darkness, and plenty more. He was also talented in swordplay, which was taught to him by his parents.

Overall, Delire's life was pretty average, and average was good. There was a storm out there, Delire knew. But he would be okay.

***

The room was silent. Only trickles of moonlight entered through the window. Angeline's sleeping form wore a peaceful and relaxed expression. Then the moonlight vanished for a moment as something passed between the window and the moon. Then the light was back, and the night rolled on.

***

It was the noise that woke Angeline. It was an odd noise, the noise of something... rolling, maybe? Yes, it sounded sort of like the old wheelbarrow... who was using the wheelbarrow in the middle of the night?

Angeline sat up with a start, coming fully awake. She nearly yelled out in surprise. She wasn't in bed! She was in a small, wooden room. It measured about three meters by two meters, and was maybe two and a half meters tall. And it was most certainly not anywhere in the Huaji household!

Angeline rose and took a few strides to a wall of her wooden prison. She pounded on the planks with her fists.

"Hey! What's going on! Where am I?" After a moment, the rolling noise stopped, and the room shook a bit.

I'm moving, Angeline realized. I'm in a box, being taken somewhere...

At first, Angeline assumed that whoever was with her - for there had to be someone transporting her - had simply stopped. But then, the roof of the box opened a crack, and moonlight trickled in.

"Be silent," said a masculine voice.

"Who are you?" Angeline asked boldly. "And what are you doing with me?"

"We are the Underlords," replied the voice. "And our purposes are better left unspoken, for now." Angeline gritted her teeth, unsatisfied.

"Well, let me out of here!"

"Why would we do that?" The voice sounded amused. Unable to come up with a satisfactory reply, Angeline just scowled. She felt helpless in her small, wooden prison, while her captors entertained themselves with her.

Another voice, also male, called out roughly, and Angeline was unable to pick out the words. Then the roof to her prison closed, and after a moment, the box began trembling gently again. The rolling noise resumed, and Angeline was left in darkness, with only the cracks in the wooden planks to grant moonlight entry.

Not much happened in Angeline's little box. And so, despite her rage, terror and sorrow, she nodded off to sleep.

***

Delire's footsteps were too loud.

He was walking home from school, and was heading through the bad part of town. This was where the houses were either unoccupied or you wished they were, and shady groups hung out. But Delire, though cautious and alert, was not afraid of this place.  He walked through it every day, and had almost never been given any trouble. Why should that change today? And anyway, as a last resort, he always had a magical advantage over anyone who might give him trouble.

But today, he was aware that his footsteps were too loud. Because today, he knew that someone was watching him. It was a tall, skinny man in all black. His clothes seemed a bit old-fashioned, and he wore a hood over his face. And although irregular styles and shady looks were common in this area of town, Delire had never seen anyone quite like this man. He wasn't sure he liked him. And he definitely didn't like that the man was following him.

He'd snuck quick glances backward, and every time, the man had been walking a distance behind him. The man would stop and stare at Delire, and then, when Delire continued on his way, so would the man.

I've got to lose this guy, Delire thought nervously. He took a turn into a busier street than the one he was currently on, hoping that the man would be reluctant to follow him into a crowd. He walked across the street, and people passed in front of him, behind him, and to his sides.

There's no way he's still after me, Delire thought. But, just to be sure, he stopped himself from looking backwards to search for the man. He just continued walking, head up. Then the street ended, and Delire took a turn into a smaller road he knew would lead him home. He turned the corner of a building, and then, unable to wait any longer, whirled around and scanned the street behind him. There were plenty of people, but no man in black. Delire let out a sigh of relief and turned to walk home.

The man in black stood directly in front of him.

Delire yelped in surprise and took a step backward. But the man's hand shot out and grabbed his collar, pulling him back into the narrow path.

"Let go of -" Suddenly, the man's hand covered his mouth.

"Quiet, child," he whispered harshly. "Quiet, and no one must get hurt." Delire decided to take the man's advice and be silent. But that didn't mean he couldn't fight back! Delire concentrated and released shadowy energy from his body, and the man who'd attacked him stumbled backward. Delire seized the opportunity and ran for the crowded road. With a glance back, he triumphantly realized that the man in black wasn't even making an attempt to chase him down.

Wait a minute... Delire figured it out just a moment too late, and he ran into a firm barrier. Then an intense pain exploded on Delire's cheek, and he fell over, into the darkness, just falling and falling and falling...

***

Delire groaned.

Where am I? What's going on? Why... Delire forced himself to slow his thinking. First, he would rely on his senses. Feeling? A throbbing in his cheek, but otherwise fine He seemed to be sitting against a wall of some sort. Smell? Odd... odd. Taste? Nothing. Hearing? It sounded like something was turning... a wheel, perhaps? And finally, sight. Well, his eyes were closed.

Suppose it's time to fix that, Delire thought. And he opened his eyes. At first, he couldn't see anything. But then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he began looking around. From his sitting position, he could see that he was in a tiny room - or a large crate. Yes, that was mode accurate. A large, rumbling crate. From the sights and sounds, Delire was quite sure he was in the back of a carriage, maybe, but the back was modified to be a prison. But he had a few tricks up his sleeve, and wasn't too worried about the box separating him from freedom.

Delire closed his eyes and smiled. Then, by instinct, he let the shadows fill him, let them run through his blood and connect with his mind. Then, he raised a single hand and pushed. Not physically, but he urged his power forward, told it what to do. It was a part of him, but also an individual. The boy and the dark shared a relationship in which Delire commanded the darkness, and the darkness reacted to his orders. And so, if he told the shadow to blast through the wooden wall...

Snap! There was a large cracking noise, and then a large hole opened up in the wall as the wood tumbled away. Delire grinned and looked out of the box. His assumption had been correct: he was definetely moving, probably attactched to a cart or something. He had broken the back of the box, so he couldn't see what was carrying the crate. But none of that mattered. Right now, escape was Delire's top and only priority. Judging the distance to the ground (about a meter), Delire slid out of the back of the crate. He hit the ground quietly, and looked back. The crate was attached to a carriage, which was being pulled by two horses. Delire couldn't see into the windows of the carriage, which he hoped meant that anyone in the carriage couldn't see their prisoner escaping. Then the carriage slowed, and Delire dropped flat on his stomach into the grass as the door opened and a cloaked figure got out. It was night, and so the figure was hard to watch carefully. But Delire was certain that it climbed onto the small platform that carried the box and opened up the top a bit. Then he heard a wordless cry of anger as the figure realized Delire was gone.

Delire stayed perfectly still, knowing that any movement would give him away. The cloaked figure hurried back to the carriage, and there was a quick, quiet exchange of frustrated words. Then two other dark shapes exited the carriage as well, and Delire knew the search was on. Slowly, he slid on his stomach, turning away from the carriage. He inches forward, going at a horribly slow pace. But it was a safe pace, and Delire knew that to change it might mean capture. And so, as the night groaned on, he slid, inch by inch, heading into the endless sea of grass.

***

The lid of Angeline's crate creaked open, just a tiny little crack. A cloaked figure peered in, watching the girl. It was obvious that she'd been crying, and now she appeared utterly exhaughsted. She was asleep, her face a mask of worry and exhaustion. For a moment, the cloaked figure felt a bit guilty. After all, the girl had done nothing wrong. But then this guilt left him, and he shook it off.

"It's for the best," he muttered. And he knew he was right. Satisfied, he began to let the lid creak back down so he could lock it shut. However, to his great surprise, the lid burst open, and he staggered backward with a cry of surprise.

Angeline burst out of the box, discarding the act of exhaughstion. She leapt down from the platform holding the box, and found the cloaked man climbing to his feet. He pulled a rope out of part of his cloak, and Angeline saw he had a short dagger clipped to his belt. The man came at her slowly, holding the rope.

"Tried to let you have comfort, but we'll have to tie you up now," he said quietly. Angeline heard the carriage door opening and knew she didn't have long. She made a lunge at the man, grabbing the rope and attempting to tug it out of his gasp. It was a short-lived tug-of-war, and the cloaked man kicked her away, keeping his hold on the rope. Angeline staggered away, and then ran back at him, once again reaching for the rope. The man sighed quietly and prepared another kick, but suddenly, he felt a sudden pain in his side and stumbled, clutching at it.

Angeline didn't wait to see what damage she'd caused with the swiped dagger. She'd snagged it after her fake attempt to pull the rope away from the man. She just spun to face another of her captors, who was coming at her quickly. She moved her arm in a wide arc and threw the dagger underhand at the man. Once again, she turned away before she could see what she'd done, and this time, she just ran. She ran, weaving left and right, just to confuse any pursuers. She wasn't sure how many of them there had been, or if any had been chasing her at all. She didn't care, either. She just ran, ran on legs that were tired but refused to stop running. She covered so much ground, she had no idea where she was, not that she'd had any when she'd started running. Finally, her legs refused to carry her any longer, and she turned, panting in exhaustion. There was no one in sight, but it was a dark night and she couldn't see much. She sat down for a moment, gasping for air and trying to fathom the last few hours. Finding it impossible, she just stood up again and slowly began walking. To take her mind off the day, or to escape, or just because she needed to move. All she knew is that she was still walking when the sun began to rise.

***

Both teens knew what had happened. The storm had finally hit, and neither of them could possibly have been prepared for its power.