It started with a drizzle. Lina stood on her apartment balcony, her hands gripping the rusted railing, watching the parched earth below darken with water for the first time in years. She didn’t know how she had done it—only that the rain had answered her.

The world was different now. A sudden, inexplicable shift in public opinion had turned climate action into a global frenzy. Governments scrambled to outdo one another in pledging carbon neutrality. Corporations rebranded overnight, planting forests and cleaning oceans like their bottom line depended on it. People rallied, marched, and recycled with almost religious fervor.

For Lina, the shift had been overwhelming. She had spent years campaigning for change, her voice drowned in apathy. Then, a strange power awoke within her. When she focused, the sky listened. Rain would fall, winds would calm, and storms would rise. It was exhilarating—and terrifying.

At first, she used her gift sparingly. A gentle rain over drought-stricken farmlands. A breeze to break oppressive heatwaves in sweltering cities. She stayed anonymous, watching from the sidelines as people praised the sudden “natural” miracles.

But then came the voices.

“Make it snow in the Arctic to rebuild the ice.”

“Send a hurricane to the oil rigs!”

“Flood the coal mines.”

Her inbox, once quiet, was flooded with demands. Activists, scientists, and world leaders all begged her to use her power to accelerate the change the world so desperately needed. Some were heartfelt, others desperate, and a few outright sinister.

“Why haven’t you done more?” a stranger had yelled at her during a climate rally. “You could save us all!”

Lina recoiled, guilt gnawing at her. She wasn’t a savior. She was just a woman trying to understand a power she didn’t ask for.

One night, she stood on a windswept cliff overlooking the sea, her thoughts as turbulent as the waves crashing below. She could summon a typhoon and destroy entire industries that were poisoning the planet. She could redirect rivers to quench deserts. She could change the course of humanity.

But at what cost?

Was she any better than the corporations that had played god with the environment for decades? Would her interventions create balance—or chaos?

As she closed her eyes, the wind howled around her, waiting for her decision. She thought of the farmers she’d helped, the children who had danced in the rain she’d summoned, the fragile ecosystems she had preserved.

And then she thought of the power she held and the line she couldn’t cross.

“I can’t fix everything,” she whispered to the storm.

The winds stilled, the sea quieted, and Lina felt a strange calm wash over her. She would act where she could, when she could—but she would not become the arbiter of the world’s fate. Humanity had to save itself, or it wouldn’t learn to change.

As Lina walked away from the cliff, the sky darkened, and a soft rain began to fall, washing over the earth like a quiet promise.