“Hand it over, now!”

We stand in a besieging storm; I clench the staff tightly in my hand.

"You're only making it worse," he tries to yell above the sound of the storm around us. "Hand it over!"

I look around; I can't see anything past the white clouds and the silhouette of the man that stands before me. The only scents I detect are of my own sweat and the moisture in the air.

The man in front of me reaches his hand out towards me. He wants to have the staff, the power. My power. I hold the staff even tighter now; no one can separate it from me. Like those annoying couples in line for the rollercoaster who take forever to go further.

My staff senses my will for it, and the storm worsens. Thunder calls my name and lightning strikes 10 feet away from me.

"I won't!," I'm surprised by the volume of my voice. "Not until I know for certain that you will use it with good intentions."

I direct the staff to him; lightning and rain threaten him to back away.

He yells at me: "You don't know the power that it holds!" The weather moves faster now, towards him. He runs backwards on the White Clouds, trying not to trip over his own shoes.

"No," I point the staff directly above my head and light bursts from it, "you don't know the power that I hold."

The storm has lifted, making space for the blinding light that now surrounds us. The grip I had on the staff has loosened a bit; I balance myself with it.

Something feels off.

My vision sharpens and I look down at my own skin, it has turned gold. The light that has now dimmed a bit reflects on my arms. I look at the man; he has fallen. Everyone in our world knows that when you fall on the White Clouds, you will never stand upon two feet ever again.

He looks at me in horror. "You have no idea of what you've just unleashed," he slowly sinks into the Clouds. "No idea of who's coming."

"You're wrong," I say, taken aback by the cold tone of my voice. It does not match with my warm skin tone, "I do know."

I step towards him, "I am the one who's coming."