Novel & Cerita Stories About Storms

I get out of bed In a hurry and I get dressed frantically, not caring what I'm putting on just so I have something on. As I open the door from my cabin, all I see is flames. I can hear screaming from pack members, as my heart sinks to the ground. I race out to see what I can do, but when I realize there is no battle happening. I'm confused to what the fuck is happening.

Today, I was going in to submit my resignation. Back then, Joyce was the reason I chose to stay in this city. I even refused to inherit my family's estate, severing ties with my parents completely. Three days ago, when the typhoon hit, I put my life on the line to pick Joyce up. However, she refused to come home with me. On the way back, the storm was raging, and debris struck my shoulder. I couldn't sleep that night from the pain. Then I saw Finley's Instagram post and told Joyce I was breaking up with her.

she felt wasn't just stress. The storm was moving closer, and when it finally broke, it would take more than a red dress and a lie to survive it.

The storm arrived not from the sea, but from the south—a late-season atmospheric river that slammed into the coast with biblical fury. For three days, the world dissolved into a roaring, grey chaos. Rain lashed the windows of Driftwood House in horizontal sheets. The wind screamed like a thing in pain, and the ocean, invisible beyond the wall of weather, announced itself as a constant, ground-shaking boom against the cliffs.

"Please don't leave me here. I'm afraid of the dark." His gaze was icy. "What about Sandra? When you wrote the message, did it ever cross your mind that she might be scared too?" Emma momentarily zoned out, lost in the memory of a thunderstorm years ago. The power went out, and she curled up in the corner, shaking in fear. Wesley filled the house with candlelight, wrapped her in his arms, and gently rubbed her back. "Don't be scared, Em. I'm right here." But that same man was the one shoving her into a living nightmare now.

“It’s over, Eliora.” But I knew it wasn’t. Not truly. Not yet. Some storms never stop blowing — they just wait offshore, gathering force. And when they come back, you pray you’ve learned how to stand.

"I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry." "Oh, my silly girl. I'm relieved. Last night, I had this horrible nightmare. I dreamt that you were swept away by a flood, and my dear grandchild was crying in the water. Then this morning, I saw on the news that parts of the city were flooded. It scared me to death! Thank goodness you and my grandson are safe." Safe? If it hadn't been for the rescue team, I would've drowned with my unborn child in that flood. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell her.

"Very good." I staggered forward, gasping. "That was... incredible. I was almost swept away by the wind." "Magic isn’t safe, Storme," she said. "It’s alive. Always respect it." I nodded, heart elite with joy. "One more," she said, her eyes gleaming. "The tornado." My stomach dropped with fear. "You’re joking." "Not at all," she said. "It will be small. Focus your will into a point. Shape the air."

I stood by the window of my office, letting out a weary sigh as I stared into the storm. Rain lashed relentlessly against the glass, streaming down in thick sheets like a waterfall. Outside, the wind howled like a beast, bending the towering trees until they looked as though they would snap beneath its fury. Every flash of lightning illuminated the forest for only a heartbeat before darkness swallowed it once more. The storm had become our greatest obstacle. It had washed away every footprint, every scent, every trace that might have led us to Rhea. The flooded roads and raging winds had also made the search far more dangerous, forcing every warrior to fight not only against time, but agains

Sleep didn’t come for me that night. A terrible storm brewed outside the window, matching my somber mood perfectly. Usually, a rainstorm would have had me knocked out, but right then, it only added to my discomfort. Rain poured down, lightening flashed, and thunder clapped loudly. The wind whistled harshly, scraping bare branches against the window. I recalled the story my mom used to tell me and my sister when we were little girls. When it thundered God was moving furniture around. When lightning flashed, he was turning on the lights. And when it rained, he was crying.