The eastern horizon begins to lighten, shifting from black to deepest purple. I push harder, knowing time grows short. I must return before the clan awakens, before Viktor notices my absence.
The human settlement appears below, nestled in the valley like a cluster of glowing insects. I circle once, memorizing patrol patterns, noting the reduced guard presence in the medical sector where the healer—Elena—keeps watch over my sister.
I descend in a tight spiral, landing with barely a sound on the facility’s roof. The shift from eagle to human sends familiar pain through my body, bones and muscles reshaping themselves intomy human form. I crouch, listening, counting heartbeats until I’m certain no alarm has been raised.
The service entrance lies unguarded. Either Elena has arranged this, or the humans are more careless than I believed. I slip inside, moving through shadows with the silent precision that comes from hunting in three dimensions.
I find her in the quarantine room, bent over monitoring equipment, her chestnut hair falling across her face as she adjusts settings on a medical device. She doesn’t look up when I enter, though I’ve made no effort to announce myself.
“You’re early,” she says, still focused on her work. “I expected you after midnight.”
Her awareness of my presence surprises me. No ground-dweller should be able to sense a Storm Eagle approach. “How did you know I was here?”
She straightens, finally turning to meet my gaze. “I felt you coming. Like static electricity before a storm.”
The implications of her statement should disturb me. Instead, I find myself fascinated. This human doesn’t just have healing abilities—she has storm-sense, a trait exclusive to aerial shifters.
“Your sister is recovering well,” Elena continues, gesturing toward Zara, who sleeps peacefully on the medical bed. “The toxin is completely neutralized, and the tissue regeneration is proceeding faster than any medical technology could explain.”
I approach the bed cautiously. Zara looks peaceful, her color healthy, no trace of the fevered pallor that terrified me yesterday. The wound that had been black with corruption now appears as little more than a healing silver line along her arm.
“You did this,” I say. Not a question, but a statement of fact. “With the light from your hands.”
Elena’s expression shifts, becoming guarded. “I don’t understand what happened any more than you do. I’m a scientist, not a… whatever this is.”
“Magic,” I supply. “Ancient storm-touched healing magic.”
She bristles visibly at the word. “There’s no such thing as magic. Just biological processes we don’t yet understand.”
I almost smile at her stubborn rationality. How very human, to deny the evidence before her eyes. “Then how would you explain what happened?”
“I’m working on several hypotheses,” she replies, lifting her chin slightly. “Most likely, the electrical conductivity of my nervous system temporarily aligned with the storm energy that powers your people’s abilities, creating a bioenergetic feedback loop that accelerated cellular regeneration.”
I do smile then, unable to help myself. Her scientific explanation is both absurdly complex and endearingly earnest. “That’s a very long way of saying magic, Doctor.”
She narrows her eyes, but I notice the corner of her mouth twitch with reluctant amusement. “I prefer explanations that don’t rely on mystical forces.”
“And yet you’re harboring the sister of your enemy and waiting for his return. Why?”
The question hangs between us, unavoidable and dangerous. Elena turns away, checking Zara’s vitals on a monitor, but I sense it’s merely to avoid meeting my gaze.
“Professional curiosity,” she says finally. “Your sister’s physiology is unlike anything I’ve studied. The regenerative capabilities alone could revolutionize medical science.”
“Is that the only reason?” I press, moving closer.
She stiffens at my proximity but doesn’t retreat.
For a heartbeat, the desire to close the last breath between us is almost overwhelming. I lower my head slightly, catching the subtle citrus-and-lilac scent of her skin. My hand itches to reachup and trace the line of her jaw, to discover whether her lips taste as intoxicating as they look. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating, but she doesn’t back away. My breath mingles with hers as we hover on the edge of a kiss neither of us is supposed to want. The tension snaps like a tightened bowstring when she suddenly turns back to the monitor, leaving me to swallow the ache of what almost happened.
“What other reason would there be?”
The air between us feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. I recognize it now for what it is—the nascent mate bond, pulling us together despite every logical reason to stay apart. I wonder if she feels it too, this inexplicable connection that defies everything I’ve been taught about ground-dwellers.
“You promised answers,” she says, changing the subject abruptly. “About what I am. What this power means.”
I nod, accepting her deflection for now. “You’re storm-touched. A human carrying ancient Storm Eagle bloodlines.”
“That’s impossible. I would know if I had shifter ancestry.”
