It can happen anywhere.
Whether in the heart of a Primal Reality, or the diminished fragments of a Shadow depleted of its vitality. While the observer may not always recognize its forms as familiar, with understanding comes an awareness of Tempest. Whether its caress brings the promise of spring returning to the land, or its madness dashes your frail plans against the rocks of overextended ambition, this power is best studied by those who are canny and pragmatic.
Tempest is a resultant power of Reality. Because Reality is really the unordered absence of the Void, there is the Tempest. Mark this well. Reality is not a creation of a single purpose with a theme or an artistry that gives it an unflinching wonder. Reality is nasty. Reality has rough spots. Powers in opposition. Shadows erupting with vast powers and bizarre demi-planes of plunging entropy. Shadow Storms that may sweep an entire civilization into extinction. When powers collide, they engender between them a buffer of raw ruptured discord.
Tempest is the ragged breath of Reality in living turmoil.
Prose by Arref Mak