Tales From a Thousand Worlds

The torrential rains that had swept their way across the rolling hills with an elemental fury, like some admonishing deluge of the kind that had drowned far Muru or wicked Tela, or the gleaming golden spires of Helastra, had at last abated, their wrath spent. The sky, swept clean of the clouds that had once curtained it, now shone forth a brilliant azure. Rivers and streams, swollen near to bursting, thundered forth, their waters churned up and carrying before them the detritus that had been swept up in their path by the storms, of broken branches and entire trees and more.

Follow this link for Part One of Dreams of Days to Come