As the minutes ticked away, the wind howled with mounting fury, driving fine grit against the outer glass with a sharp, metallic hiss.
What had started as a scattered trickle rapidly escalated into a roaring deluge, hammering the building like an angry beast trying to claw its way inside.
A tense silence fell over the hall.
Conversation died as refugees huddled closely together on the lower floors, staring nervously at the vibrating walls and barricaded windows.
The terrifying thought of the structure giving way and burying them alive hung heavy in the air.
"I just hope the walls hold…" a refugee whispered under his breath, clutching his bag tightly.
Around him, others nodded in silent agreement, praying for the storm to pass without tearing their sanctuary apart.
While the refugees clung to hope, Elena focused her spiritual energy outward, observing the situation outside as she witnessed the true, unbridled horror at the storm's core.
