Soul Storm

Several storms manifest in the Kavari Mountains, most are of an elemental pursusion. But when the tides of death deem it a Soul Storm whips up. Tearing life from the physical and spitting it back out. 
The tribes of Kavari sense it coming, they know the time. In this build up rituals are performed, prayers are whispered and familes acknowledge one another. 
When a Soul Storm forms a long loud whistle rips the air to shreds. A rumble of nebula like clouds rumble together, rolling through the mountian ranges. Everything it touches , fauna and flora, is shredded of its physical form. Leaving in its place an ethereal spirit like form.
These spirits fight to take the surviving physical forms as their own. Broken blooms and cracked trees. Lifeless creatures twitching with the presence life so close to their own death.
Sparkling clouds rush down into the valleys and through the hamlets, villages and camps. Hundreds of physical forms runined and broken. Spirits scattered across the land, left to fight for another vessel.
Those to the south of Kavari, make the sign of protection whenever they see the nebula clouds in the distance, destroying lives in their neighbouring land. 
Some claim it is a curse of the land, and to those that chose to challenge the elements. Outsiders used to make artwork of the Soul Storm but it quickly became taboo for fear of inviting it to thier own lands.
Kavarians know the price, know the challenges and still stand strong before it. Those that survive are hardier for it, but forever changed.
The only living thing that is never effected by the Soul Storm is a child, whether it be the ealry buds of a flower or a babe in arms. The essence of new life evades the doom of the storm.