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Elias didn't breathe. The storm had arrived, and it was looking for a way in.
By 6:00 PM, the wind didn't just blow; it screamed. It was a sound that felt ancient, like a giant waking up after a thousand-year sleep. Elias retreated inside, sliding the glass doors shut just as the first drop hit. It wasn't water. It was a jagged shard of ice, the size of a fist, that shattered against the railing with the force of a gunshot. Then, the power died.
Elias stood on his balcony, watching the birds flee in a frantic, silent exodus. Below, the streets were a chaotic grid of brake lights and sirens. The weather apps had called it a "high-pressure anomaly," but the internet had already given it a better name: Stormageddon.
The first crack appeared in the center of his living room window. Not from the wind, but from a rhythmic tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap.