Nyo-ji watched as he entered his house. He grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment as his guide lead him further inside. The place was cleaner since he had last visited Nyo-ji. There had been much planning for this moment and Nyo-ji was not above savoring justice in the rare times he could administer it.
“Just wait a moment, here,” his guide commanded. He missed the smirk that followed the order. Nyo-ji had paid the guide handsomely for her part and it was now done.
As soon as his guide stepped outside the building the door slammed shut. A voice from the shadows spoke up, “Sartow, you came looking for power. I shall show you it.”
Sartow watched as little sparks of lightning started to bounce from timber to timber on the ceiling. He could smell the burning in the air, though he saw no fire. The dirt in the floor started to rise up like a thousand ant mounds forming and then collapsing.
Sartow ran to the door to make an escape, but it would not budge. He ran to the window to try that and again it would not move. The lightning now jumped between the mounds and the rafters, making audible crackling noises with each jump. The smell of burning air made Sartow sweat with panic.
A large bolt coming down on him was the last thing that Sartow saw. There was not time for him to scream, no time for him to feel, no time to repent. The corpse was struck by numerous bolts as Nyo-ji’s anger was unleashed. Nyo-ji knew Sartow would feel nothing from each successive blow, and yet hit him once for each person he had seen his scars upon.
Outside the house Cerridwen heard thunder from inside, but it was the least of her worries as she could not recall why she was at the house, let alone out in the open streets. She quickly bolted to an alleyway and out of sight.