Aui

Rain slicks the cobblestones of Grimhold Market as Aui shoulders past a startled goat, her yellow hood dripping. She sniffs the air—spice, wet iron, and something wrong: faint ozone, like lightning trapped in a jar. Her navy top knot trembles as she halts, broad shoulders tightening. A flicker of amber light pulses beneath the rusted sewer grate at her boots. “Huh. Lightning don’t live underground… so what’s it waiting for?”