Mother Nature

Flames die as ash cripples the skin, a hollow glow upon a fresh corpse, rotting under the strain of a heat that pierces, corroding and destroying.

Water washes away the grime before filling the lungs, bubbling internally until it spills from the mouth of a vagabond, drowning upon words of sorrow, forever unheard. Let them bloat, overfilled, before they fall to the ground, a husk for new waves to crash.

Air swirls a tornado, soaring forth with intent to destroy. The rubble shall fly with it, a battering ram floating upon the wind, sweeping them off their feet, thrown to the clouds, left to a higher powers mercy.

Ground cracks upon command, parting, shaking, underfoot of an army marching forth. Knocked down as rocks fall, bludgeoning and bloodying, before bodies are swallowed by Earth's core.

And what of the witch, elemental and proud, her hands awash with battle scars, fresh and tingling? In hiding shall she wait, drained by duties not even she understands. Respected, feared, scorned for what is unknown. Retreating until needed, until she hears their frightened plea. A silent hero slumbering awakens to a child's call.