IC Date: 07/30/2025

White stone echoed under Sailor Tempesti’s boots as she approached the base of the Primordial Tower and the door to the earth shrine. Glinting crystal eyes (or at least what Tempesti surmised served as their eyes) briefly landed on the young senshi before the heads in which they sat resumed ancient vigil, the crystalline sentries having forgiven her for their previous scuffle. She wondered if striking them with her magic was enough to reassure them that she belonged here. If that familiar touch was what it took to establish herself as the place’s new steward.

Their comrades further up the ramp shared their disinterest in both her and the lavender wisp that had returned its attention to her, seemingly having gotten bored with bouncing amongst the fireflies and pursued her upward with a renewed intensity. By this point, she was well aware that the sentries she knew waited further up the ramp would more than likely retain their natural hostility. Eyes focused on scanning the ground for pressure plates, Tempesti’s gaze glanced obliviously off the dozens of tiny holes speckling the stone around her. A barely perceptible shift in the air raised the faint hairs on her arms, the back of her neck. Her heart stuttered, propelling her forward in an instinctive scramble to escape some vague unseen threat, a soft but rising hum that tingled against her skin.

Stumbling ahead, the senshi’s boot barely cleared the lightning that erupted from the wall and ground behind her. The scent of ozone filled the air as she gaped at the trap that could very easily have ended her. Dizzying ringing in her ears warded off the approach of a soft mechanical droning. She registered the sensation of warmth spreading down her back before a sharp pain radiated outward. Whirling to face her attacker, Tempesti found herself confronted by two tall, crystalline sentries flanked by a pair of familiarly unfamiliar constructs. On cue, the wisp decided to take its leave content to allow her to attend to the Primordial Tower’s guardians in her own time.

Hovering beside their humanoid counterparts, wings resembling stained glass kept crystalline insect-like bodies airborne. Some mechanism within them pulsed and glowed, perhaps preparing to launch another projectile like the one currently lodged in her left shoulder. It seemed odd that whoever built these constructs chose to model them on the apparently peaceful teruda, but musing on the motivations of some ancient artisan seemed a less than ideal pursuit when staring down their hostile handiwork.

Beating their wings in uncanny synchronization a torrent of wind rose around them, knocking the senshi’s already unsteady legs from beneath her. A series of uncharacteristically vitriolic obscenities escaped her mouth as she rolled clear of the next barrage of darts, nearly colliding with the crystal and metal legs of the nearest earthbound sentry as it swung its clublike appendage downward, connecting with her thigh. Brief thoughts of the bruise the blow would leave flickered frivolously through her mind as she managed to force herself shakily to her feet.

“Harrowing Storm!”

To her immense relief, the harpies were enough to send the crystalline teruda clattering to the ground in a colorful heap. The taller sentries staggered about, stunned but clearly recovering. With a desperate sprint forward she slammed her uninjured shoulder into the closer of the two constructs (another future bruise, she thought), sending it into its comrade before both overbalanced and tumbled over the edge of the ramp. Panting with the exertion, Tempesti leaned against the wall. It would only be a matter of time before those repair machines put in an appearance to mend their damaged friends. No time to waste trying to catch her breath. She could do that later. Even if the worse of the two kinds of constructs were now far below her.

A chill permeated the door separating Tempesti from the shrine within, as though frost rimed its surface despite the warmth of the surrounding chamber, her fingers drawing a light trail that disappeared the moment she moved. Stark in its simplicity, a triangle bisected by a horizontal line gouged the rough stone. No doubt this was the Shrine of Primordial Air, unless primordial fire was significantly colder than she’d suspected. Taking a final steadying breath, she pressed her palm firmly against the barrier. With a deep, unfamiliar hiss it receded from her touch before a harsh grinding followed it into the ground.

Blasts of cold air buffeted the senshi as she entered the shrine, eddying about her and billowing within her fuku. The standing stones surrounding the altar bore a distinct layer of frost which lent them a soft sparkle in the dim light. A stylized funnel cloud in white stone stood in the center of the ring of monoliths with the altar’s round mensa almost entirely encircled within the storm. Delicately carved windflowers adorned it, giving the appearance of blossoms caught in an updraft, each cradling a small glowing crystal between their petals.

By now the routine of cleaning the altar might have become a mindless task had she not forced intense focus into each motion, each pass of soap and cloth. Each crystal facet gently buffed until she freed it from the grime of ages past. It was almost meditative, this simple but loving act. This show of growing devotion to a world that had somehow always been a part of her.

Satisfied in the altar’s newfound cleanliness Tempesti inhaled, preparing to imbue the shrine with what power she could.

“Harrowing Storm!”

The dull glow of the stone windflowers flared to brilliant life, casting unearthly shadows throughout the room. Exhausted from her encounter with this shrine’s sentries she turned toward the door, preparing to make the descent to her campsite within the palace. A soft hiss rooted her in place, snapping her attention to the room as she listened for the approach of another potentially hostile entity. The hiss deepened into a roar as she realized that the room’s air was taking flight into a series of seemingly innocuous holes in the ceiling.

Tempesti’s breathing grew shallower as panic threatened to overwhelm all rational thought and her legs weakened beneath her.