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  The journey across the o was as harsh as the captain had warhe ship rocked violently against the waves, salt spray stinging Donald’s face as he helped the crew secure loose lines. One night, as the ship cut through calmer waters, Donald stood at the bow, staring out at the endless expanse of dark water. The stars above seemed impossibly close, their light reflected in the waves below. A faint memory surfaced—himself as a boy, staring at a simir sky, feeling the same pull he felt now. It ull that had never fully left him, no matter how far he’d tried to run from it.

  The captain approached, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the railing. “Most people get si these trips. You seem steady enough.”

  Donald chuckled, leaning against the railing. “Limping keeps me grounded, I guess.”

  The captain exhaled a stream of smoke, watg the stars. “Grounded or not, it’s rare to see someone crossing like this without a bigger reason.”

  Donald didn’t reply, letting the captain’s words drift into the night air. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, the faint outline of Greennd beginning to emerge in the distance. His destination was still far off.

  Greennd’s coastline was harsh and unyielding, the wind cutting across the ndscape as Donald stepped off the ship. The crew bid him farewell with little ceremony, the captain simply nodding before turning back to his work. Donald slung his bag over his shoulder, adjusted his coat against the cold, and began walking innd.

  The towns he passed were small, their houses huddled together against the elements. He stopped briefly at a café, coffee and a sandwich. The further he traveled, the more it seemed as if the icy air beloo him in a way the cities and highways never had.

  He tihrough small settlements, where snow-covered rooftops seemed to huddle together for warmth. In one vilge, he found an older man attempting to repair a frozen water pump, his hands shaking from the chill. Donald set his e aside and took the wrench from the man, tightening the stubborn bolts a the water flow in mihe man offered thanks, but Donald waved him off, pig up his e and heading back down the road without a word.

  Each stop added to the rhythm of his journey. In aown, a young girl’s sled had overturned in a snowdrift. Donald helped her set it upright, brushing the snow off the battered wood as she shyly offered him a small carved tri in thanks. He tucked it into his pocket, nodding to her before moving on.

  Days passed, marked only by the ging quality of the light. When he reached the coast, he boarded another ship, this one bound for Id. The captain eyed his limp but didn’t ask questions as Donald handed over what little cash he had left. The vessel was old and creaked with every shift of the waves, but it cut steadily through the frigid waters. Donald kept to himself during the crossing, sittihe bow and watg the endless expanse of grey water and ice. The cold bit deep, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. Instead, it felt... natural, like it beloo him.

  In Id, the pull grew stronger. He hitched a ride with a farmer transp hay, the man barely speaking as they drove through endless stretches of frozen fields. They passed a craggy cliff where the winds howled like restless spirits. The farmer g Donald, his voice rough from disuse. “Not many take this road. You looking for someone?”

  “Something,” Donald replied, his gaze fixed ahead.

  The man didn’t press, dropping him off at the vilge with a simple nod. Donald stayed the night in a small inn, where the innkeeper insisted he share a meal with the family. He watched the children chatter over bowls of stew, their voices loud and carefree. It was a warmth he hadn’t known much of in his own childhood. Memories of cold rooms and stern voices surfaced briefly before he pushed them aside.

  The m, Donald tinued, walking when no rides were avaible. His e tapped against the frozen ground as he passed solitary houses and abandoned fishing shacks. In one hamlet, he stopped to help a fisherman untangle a knotted he man, gruff but grateful, handed him a thick wool scarf before he left, saying only, “It’s colder ahead.”

  Eventually, Donald reached the coast again. The pull was stronger now, a stant presence guiding him toward Norway. He found a fisherman willing to take him across the choppy waters for the price of bor. Donald worked alongside the small crew, haulis and seg lines as the boat pitched against the waves.

  The mountains loomed in the distaheir jagged peaks stark against the twilight. He felt a flicker nition, though he didn’t uand why. This ce he had never bee felt like he had always known it.

  On nd, Donald resumed his journey. Norway’s ndscape was harsher than anything he’d faced so far, yet it weled him in a strange way. The forests were dehe air sharp with the st of pine and frost. He passed through vilges where people spoke little but offered quiet hospitality. A woman handed him a loaf of bread without asking his name. An old man in a church let him warm himself by the fire, nodding in silent uanding when Donald left without expnation.

  With every step, fragments of memory surfaced. He saw fshes of golden halls and long tables, of faces that blurred wheried to focus on them. He remembered a voice—deep and anding, yet filled with warmth. These images had haunted him since childhood, but now they felt closer, more tangible.

  As a boy, he had often dreamed of a great tree stretg endlessly into the sky, its roots winding through aernal expahose dreams had always left him restless, the ag questions they stirred never answered. Even as an adult, the dreams persisted, though he’d tried to bury them uhe weight of logid reason.

  Donald reached another small towled at the base of a mountain. Snow bhe rooftops, and smoke rose in thin spirals from eys. He stopped at a tiny general store, trading what little he had left for a pair of gloves and a wool hat. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with sharp eyes, studied him as she handed over the goods.

  One night, he found himself camped in the shadow of a t cliff. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it a sense of something a. Donald stared into the small fire he had built, the fmes casting flickering shadows against the rock face. He felt the weight of his journey pressing down on him—the years of questions, the pain of not knowing where he truly belonged.

  As he drifted to sleep, he dreamed again of the great tree. This time, the vision was clearer. He saw its braretg into the heavens, its roots winding through realms he couldn’t name. A voice echoed in the distance, calling his Donald, but something older, something truer. He woke with a start, the embers of his fire still glowing faintly.

  He rose, brushing off the frost that had gathered on his coat, and resumed his journey before dawn. Norway’s wilderness seemed endless, but Donald pressed on, his steps steady despite the ache in his leg. The path grew steeper as he approached the mountains, the air thinner and colder. Yet he felt a strange ease, as if this was where he was meant to be.

  By the time he reached a small fishing vilge on the edge of a fjord, the pull was almost unbearable. He found a fisherman willing to take him across the icy waters, paying with the st of his strength as he helped load the boat. As they set out, Donald stared at the horizon, where the faint outline of a distant shore awaited him.

  This was it. The answers he had chased for so long were within reach. But with each passing wave, a new question took shape: Was he truly ready to face them?

  The boat cut through the freezing waters, its hull creaking against the weight of the sea. Donald stood at the bow, his coat pulled tight against the biting wind. The jagged cliffs of the distant shore loomed closer, the faint pull he’d been following stronger now, like an invisible drawing him toward the nd ahead.

  The fisherman manning the boat gave him a wary gnce. “Not much out here but id rock. You sure this is where you want to be?”

  Donald nodded once, his grip tightening on the e at his side. “I’m sure.”

  The mountains loomed ahead, their peaks dusted with snow, while the sparse forest at their base seemed eerily still. As he moved, his boots g over frost-covered rocks, he caught a strange sound—low, guttural voices carried on the wind. Donald’s steps faltered, and he aoward the noise, keeping low and silent.

  Peering past a cluster of boulders, he froze.

  A group of hulking figures stood in a loose circle, their massive bodies made h, gray stoheir eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and their movements were unnaturally slow yet deliberate. Donald crouched lower, his e pressing against the cold ground as he straio hear their words.

  “The settlement is two hours away, it will cost us some energy,” one rumbled, its voice like grinding gravel. “But after we e them all, we will have gathered enough strength to hibernate.”

  Anure grunted in agreement. “These creatures are weak. Their flesh will sustain us. Let them cower in their homes—they ot fight what they do not uand.”

  Donald’s grip on his e tightened, his stomach twisting. These were no ordinary beings. He didn’t know what they were, but instinct told him they were predators, and their prey would be the unsuspeg vilgers further innd.

  Donald’s blood ran cold as the stone figures tiheir low, guttural discussion. He ched his fist tightly, weighing his options. Logic told him to wait—let them feed, hibernate, and then strike while they were vulnerable. But the thought of the vilgers being sughtered, their lives snuffed out while he stood idly by, g him.

  He muttered under his breath, his voice low. “Damn it.”

  Standing, he tightened his grip on the e and shifted his weight forward. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could defeat all of them, but he wasn’t going to let them reach those people unchallenged. He had no backup and no pn. He didn’t need one. He’d stop them, or he’d die trying.

  Donald stepped out from behind the boulders, his e tapping against the rocky ground as he approached. The sound drew their attention immediately. All six of the stone figures turheir glowing eyes fixing on him.

  The rgest of the stone creatures chuckled, the sound grinding like boulders scraping together. "A lost mb," it rumbled, its glowing eyes narrowing as it stepped forward. "Let's start with the appetizer."

  Donald didn’t flinch. He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight off his bad leg, aed one hand lightly on the head of his e. “Funny,” he replied, his tone even. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  The creature tilted its head, fused by the calm in Donald’s voice. “You face your end, human. Why do you stand?”

  Donald shrugged. “I’ve had worse days.”

  Another creature, smaller but no less menag, rumbled in irritation. “Enough talk. Break him. We feast after.”

  The rgest one chuckled, raising an arm that ended in a jagged, heavy fist. It brought it down with terrifying force, aiming to crush Donald where he stood. But Donald moved. Fast.

  He shifted to the side with a sharp pivot, the head of his e smming against the creature’s wrist mid-swing. A crack of energy surged through the impact, green Lightning Fmes sparking along the surface of the e. The blow didn’t break the creature’s arm, but it recoiled in surprise, its fist smming into the ground with a deafening thud.

  The ures froze, their glowing eyes narrowing. “What is this?” one growled.

  Donald didn’t answer. He stepped forward, spinning his e in one hand as a faint hum of electricity built around him. He eyed the creatures, his stance loose but ready. “ oeps closer, I’ll make yret it.”

  The smallest of the creatures snarled and charged. It lunged forward, its arms outstretched like boulders crashing down. Donald ducked low, using his e to sweep the creature’s legs. As it stumbled, he drove the e upward, green fmes sparking again as it collided with the underside of the creature’s jaw. The impact sent it sprawling bato the snow, motionless.

  The remaining four roared in unison, their massive forms surging forward with renewed aggression. Donald’s fiightened around the e as he adjusted his footing, his other hand raised slightly as Armament Haki coated his forearms in an inky, obsidian sheen.

  One creature swung for his torso, but Donald ducked uhe blow, pivoting and delivering a sharp jab to its ribs. The e struck like a lightning rod, sending arcs of green energy crag across its rocky surface. The creature staggered back, its growl turning into a howl of frustration.

  Another came from the left, trying to fnk him. Donald turned, raising his e just in time to intercept a crushing strike aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through his arm, but the Lightning Fmes surged, repelling the blow. Donald spun on his heel, using his e as leverage to drive a Haki-infused punto the creature’s chest. The stone cracked uhe force, and the creature colpsed in a heap.

  The rgest figure roared, its eyes burning with fury. “You dare challenge us? You are nothing!”

  Donald straightened, breathing heavily but unshakeapped his e against the ground, sending another ripple of electricity through the frozen air. “If I’m nothing, what does that make the three of you who couldn’t even nd a hit?”

  The taunt worked. The rgest figure bellowed and charged, its footsteps shaking the ground as it barreled toward him. Donald waited, watg its movements with sharp precision. As it closed the distance, he sidestepped at the st moment, driving the tip of his e into its knee. Lightning Fmes erupted on tact, f the massive figure to its knees with a pained roar.

  Donald didn’t give it a ce to recover. He stepped forward, swinging the e in a wide arc that crackled with energy. The strike ected with the side of the creature’s head, sending a spiderweb of cracks across its stony surface.

  The cracked head of the rgest stone creature began to knit back together, jagged fragments pulling from the grouh its feet. Donald stepped back, his grip tightening on his e as realization hit. They weren’t just strong—they could regee, drawing energy directly from the earth itself. The advantage he’d carved out in the fight was slipping away with every sed.

  The fallen smaller creature stirred, its battered body reassembling as its glowing eyes reignited. Donald’s jaw tightened. He wouldn’t win this fight—not here, not like this.

  “You ’t kill what is eternal,” the leader rumbled, its voice vibrating like a quake. “Your strikes are meaningless, human.”

  As the stone creatures lumbered closer, Donald pivoted sharply, bolting toward the cliffs. His limp slowed him, but he pushed forward. The ground shook as the creatures gave chase, their heavy forms tearing through the snow and ice.

  Donald reached the base of the cliff, his breathing ragged. He gnced back to see the leader close the distah terrifying speed, its massive form surging ahead of the others. Without stopping, Donald swung his e upward, crag it against the creature’s arm as it swiped for him. The Lightning Fmes sparked, f it to recoil just enough for him to duder its other arm and scramble toward the narrow cave.

  Donald stumbled into the cave, his shoulder grazing the rough storance as he dragged his leg ihe air shifted immediately. The icy wind outside fell silent, repced by a stillhat seemed almost alive. The walls glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with lihat shimmered like veins of gold. He didn’t stop to marvel—his breath came in sharp bursts as he pressed deeper, his e tapping rhythmically oone floor.

  Behind him, the thundering steps of the stone creatures echoed closer. Their guttural growls reverberated through the entrance, growing louder with each passing moment.

  “o run, human!” the leader bellowed, its voice amplified by the cave’s acoustics. “You’ve only ered yourself!”

  Donald ighe taunts. The pull that had brought him this far burronger now, not just in his chest but in his limbs, in his blood. Each step felt both heavy and iable. Ahead, a faint glint caught his eye—a wooden hammer resting against the base of the wall. It wasn’t ornate or imposing, just a simple thing with a short handle and a smooth head.

  Donald approached the hammer at the far end. The air was different here—it was warm, familiar, like stepping into a pce that had always been waiting for him. He crouched, his fingers brushing against the smooth handle.

  Outside, the heavy footfalls of the stone creatures echoed closer. Their leader’s growl boomed into the cavern. “You ’t hide forever, human! The earth itself ao us. This pce will be your tomb.”

  Donald rose, gripping the hammer tightly in one hand while leaning on his e with the other. He turo face the entrance, where the creatures' glowing eyes pierced the darkness. The lead figure entered first, its massive form scraping the edges of the narrow opening. The others followed.

  “You should’ve run farther,” the leader rumbled, its gaze fixed on Donald. “Now, you will crumble like the rest.”

  Donald ran the faint green Lightning Fmes from his ring into the hammer’s wooden shaft. The moment the energy touched it, something ued happened—blue sparks burst to life, iwining with the green. The hammer’s surface vibrated faintly, almost resonating, as if responding to the energy. Donald’s grip tightened as he felt the power ripple up his arm, fn but somehow familiar.

  “What is this?” His voice was low, more to himself than anyone else.

  The lead stone creature, watg him from the entrailted its head. “A human’s tricks,” it growled. “They will not save you.”

  Donald didn’t respond, running the Lightning Fmes through the hammer again. The green and blue sparks pulsed brighter this time, f arcs between the head and hahe energy surged with a rhythm that wasn’t his, almost like a sed heartbeat. He shifted his stance, holding the hammer in both hands, his e fotten on the ground behind him.

  The leader charged, its massive form barreling forward, the walls trembling us weight. Donald waited, his grip firm on the hammer. When the creature was close enough, he swung, green and blue energy fring in a sharp crack as the hammer ected with its chest.

  The impact sent the creature staggering backward, fragments of stone chipping off its body as the energy from the strike coursed through it. The others froze, their glowing eyes narrowing in fusion as their leader roared in pain.

  “What magic is this?” the creature snarled, clutg its chest.

  Donald stepped forward, the hammer buzzing faintly in his hand. “No magic,” he said. “Just someone who’s tired of your bullshit.”

  The smallest of the remaining creatures lunged, its jagged fists swinging wildly. Donald ducked uhe first strike and brought the hammer upward in a tight arc, eg with its jaw. The blue and green energy exploded outward, sending the creature flying into the cavern wall. It hit the ground and didn’t move.

  The others hesitated, their glowing eyes flig between Donald and the two falleures. “He is not normal,” one rumbled, its voicertain for the first time.

  “No human wields such power,” the leader snarled, straightening. Cracks ran across its chest where the hammer had struck, glowing faintly with residual energy. “It doesn’t matter. He will fall like the rest.”

  Donald adjusted his grip on the hammer, his movements sharp and deliberate. He didn’t wait for them to attack this time. He surged forward, his limp barely slowing him, and swung at the creature. The hammer’s head struck its arm with a resounding crack, the energy surging along its limb and shattering the stoo jagged shards.

  The creature roared, stumbling back, but Donald didn’t let up. He swung again, this time at its knee, f it to colpse with a heavy thud. Before it could recover, he drove the hammer down onto its head, the green-blue energy surging in a final burst. The creature’s glowing eyes dimmed as it crumbled into rubble.

  The remaining two creatures exged a look, their fidence visibly shaken. “He wields the storm,” otered. “We ot fight that.”

  “We ot retreat,” the leader shough its tone was less certain than before. “The earth sustains us. He will tire.”

  Donald exhaled, steadying himself. He could feel the strain building—eling the Lightning Fmes through the hammer was draining, and the energy surging from it wasirely his own. But he couldn’t afford to stop now.

  The leader charged again, its massive arms swinging down like battering rams. Donald sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow, and tered with a strike to its ribs. The hammer’s energy fred, carving deep fractures into the stone, but the creature didn’t stop. It turned sharply, its jagged fist smming into Donald’s side and sending him skidding across the cavern floor.

  Donald groaned, pushing himself up with the hammer as the creature advanced. His ribs ached, but he forced himself to his feet, raising the hammer again.

  The creature snarled, lunging again. Donald pivoted, swinging the hammer in a wide arc. The energy burst on impact, driving the creature back, but not before its cws raked across his arm, leaving a shallow gash.

  The sed creature took advantage of the opening, rushing in from the side. Donald barely had time to react, bringing the hammer up in a deferike. The blow ected, sending the creature staggering, but its jagged arm clipped his leg, dropping him to one knee.

  Donald grit his teeth, pushing off the ground as the creatures regrouped. His breaths came heavy now, the strain of the fight taking its toll. He tightened his grip on the hammer, feeling the green-blue energy pulse faintly, almost as if it were alive.

  The leader advanced, its glowing eyes fixed on him. “You ot st, human. The earth’s power is infinite.”

  Donald smirked, his voice low. “Maybe. But you’re not the earth.”

  He raised the hammer high, eling everything he had into it. The green and blue sparks erupted into a crag aura, the air around him humming with electricity.

  The creatures advaheir hulking forms unyielding as they closed in, the faint glow of their eyes pulsing in unison. Donald tightened his grip on the hammer, its weight growing heavier with each passing moment. The green-blue energy flickering around it was dimmer now, and the ache in his arm sharpened each time he raised it. He exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance, his body screaming in protest from the hits he’d already taken.

  The leader stepped forward, its cracked chest knitting back together with a low grinding sound. The air around it seemed to thrum with power as it loomed closer. “You’re deying the iable,” it growled, its voice like rock scrapial. “Your strength wanes, and the earth will heal us endlessly.”

  Donald swung the hammer toward the figure, the arc of energy striking its shoulder and shattering part of its arm. But the creature barely flinched, its jagged limb already beginning to reform. The relentless regeion was taking its toll on him—every strike felt like battling a tide that wouldn’t stay down.

  A smaller creature lunged, its fists pounding toward Donald’s side. He twisted just enough to deflect the blow with the hammer’s shaft, the impact vibrating through his arms and nearly f him to his knees. He pivoted, smming the hammer into the creature’s ribs, but the strike cked the force it carried earlier. The energy sputtered weakly as the creature stumbled back, unfazed.

  The leader’s booming ughter filled the cavern, reverberating off the walls. “This is your limit, human. Surrender, and perhaps we will grant you a swift end.”

  Donald ighe taunt, but his limbs felt leaden, his breath ragged. His mind fshed to Nero’s words before he left—the ones spoken in passing that now felt more like prophecy.

  "Find what you choose to stand for."

  He staggered back a step, the hammer dipping in his grip. The creatures pressed their advaheir movements coordinated now as they boxed him in. The leader’s voice cut through the air again, cruel and mog. “What will you stand for when you crumble into dust?”

  Donald’s jaw tightened as a memory surged—one of his dreams. The tree, its branches reag skyward, its roots buried deep in realms he couldn’t name. And a voiot his, but tied to him somehow. “Stand. Always stand. Stand for those I want to protect!”

  The leader swung its massive arm, aiming to crush him entirely. Donald raised the hammer instinctively, the green-blue energy fring brighter than before. The collisio a shockwave through the cavern, f the leader to stagger. But the force also knocked Donald back, his shoulder smming into the cavern wall. The hammer fell from his grip, nding with a dull g at his feet.

  The leader straightened, its glowing eyes narrowing. “Even your on abandons you. Accept your fate.”

  Donald ughed, low and rough, as his eyes settled on the wooden hammer lying just out of reach. The sound echoed faintly in the cavern, catg even the creatures off guard. He grunted, pressing his weight on his uninjured arm to push himself upright. Blood trickled from the gash on his leg, pooling on the ground beside him, but his gaze remained locked on the hammer.

  “You’re awfully chatty,” he muttered, his voice strained but steady, “for a bunch of oversized paperweights.”

  The leader snarled, stepping forward, its massive foot deliberately crushing Donald’s injured arm against the stone floor. Pain shot up his side, his grip on sciousness flickering. His free hand cwed weakly toward the hammer, fingers brushing the smooth ha uo grip it.

  The creature chuckled, its voice a grinding rumble. “You fight in vain. No tool save you now.”

  Donald ched his teeth, the world blurring at the edges. He froze as something flickered at the edge of his vision—not the glow of the hammer’s faint sparks, but something rger, deeper. Shadows swirled at the edge of his mind, shapes coalesg into a great hall illuminated by flickering torchlight.

  Golden tables stretched endlessly, den with food and drink, their surfaces refleg the light of an unseen sun. Voices filled the space—boisterous, joyful, and strong. Laughter rang out, deep and familiar, as figures, hazy and indistinct, raised tankards and shared stories. His chest tightened as he reized the faint echoes of his own voice among them.

  His vision shifted again, pulling him deeper into memory. The hall melted away, repced by a t tree that seemed to pierce the heavens. Its roots sprawled beh the earth, ing through realms both bright and dark. The whispers of those realms surged, a mixture of words aions he couldn’t fully uand. A shadowed figure appeared beh the tree, cloaked and imposing. The figure raised a hand, gesturing for him to step forward.

  “Stand,” the figure ahe single word reverberating through his soul.

  Donald's fingers dug into the dirt, the pain in his arm a distant hum pared to the thrum of memory. He growled as the creature above him pressed harder, the grinding forapping boh a siing crack. He spat blood, his gaze flickeriween the creature and the hammer.

  “I’m not done,” he hissed through ched teeth, his other hand straining toward the handle.

  The hammer trembled faintly, as if responding to his desperation. Green Lightning Fmes flickered along its surface, but they dimmed quickly, the energy struggling to sustain itself. The stone creature sneered, raising its jagged fist for a final blow. “Die,” it rumbled.

  Time seemed to stretch. The faint hum of the hammer intensified, joined by another sound—a deep, resonant roar like distant thunder. Donald’s mind raced back to the hall, the ughter now repced by a low, solemn t. The shadowed figure reappeared, clearer now. A bearded man with a single eye stood tall, his silhouette outlined by the flickering golden light.

  “You are my son,” the figure said, his voice calm but anding. “You do not ko stone. You are the storm.”

  Donald's eyes snapped open, his hand g into a fist. The hammer responded immediately, green and blue Lightning Fmes erupting from its surface as it flew from the ground to his outstretched hand. The wood ed, crag as it reshaped itself into polished uru, rug across its surfa intricate patterns. The blunt head expanded, gaini and precision, while the haended, ed iher grips that pulsed with energy.

  The creature froze mid-swing, its jagged fist h above Donald as Mjolnir crackled with power in his grasp. Donald pushed upward with a roar, the hammer smashing into the creature’s leg and sending it toppling backward with an ear-splitting crash.

  The other two creatures stepped back, their glowing eyes narrowing as they stared at the transformed hammer. The leader growled, its fractured chest heaving as it rose to its feet. “Impossible. That... is not of this world.”

  Donald stood slowly, the hammer’s weight familiar in his hae its transformation. He adjusted his grip, the energy c through it sparking against his skin. He rolled his shoulder, wing as the motion pulled at his injuries, and leveled his gaze at the leader.

  “You’re right,” he said, his voice cold. “It’s not.”

  The leader’s glowing eyes locked onto Donald, its jagged frinding as it shifted forward. “Who are you?” it rumbled, its voice low and sharp.

  Donald exhaled, Mjolnir humming faintly in his grip. He gnced down at the hammer, catg his refle in the polished uru. His hair, once dull and thinning, now shoh a golden vibrancy, his face sharper and unlined, his features carrying an almost otherworldly fidence. His thin frame began to shift, broadening as muscle filled out beh his skin. His hunched posture straightehe weight of his e fotten. Lightning crackled faintly around him, arcs of green mingling with streaks of blue.

  The hammer grew lighter in his hand as if it had been made for him alone. Donald let out a quiet ugh as memories of a lifelong filled his mind.

  “I’m Donald,” he said, raising the hammer. “The Lightning Guardian of the Principe Family.”

  --

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