Recognition flickers in the eyes of the taller guard. “You’re going after the ground-dweller healer,” he says. “The one who cured Nessa’s wing-sickness when our own healers couldn’t.”
I hadn’t known Elena had treated others in the clan—a revelation for another time. I nod. “Viktor has sent warriors to capture her. I intend to stop them.”
The guards exchange glances, then step aside. “We saw nothing, Stormwright,” the taller one says formally.
I clasp his shoulder briefly in thanks, then race toward the upper levels of the aerie. Dawn is approaching, and with it, Viktor’s clan gathering. I need to reach Elena before his strike team does, before he can consolidate his power—and I need to do it without triggering all-out war with Haven’s Heart.
As I emerge onto a deserted launch platform, the first hint of gray touches the eastern sky. I shift into eagle form, feeling Elena’s magic enhance my transformation, making it faster, more complete. My wingspan seems greater, my vision sharper, my connection to the storm stronger than ever before.
I launch myself into the pre-dawn sky, riding the thermal currents toward the ground-dweller settlement. Toward Elena. Toward a confrontation that will determine not just our future, but the future of both our peoples.
Thunder rumbles overhead as clouds gather in response to my emotional state. Let Viktor have his clan gathering. When I return, it will be with the truth that will end his leadership before it truly begins—and possibly change the Storm Eagles forever.
11
ELENA
The wilderness stretches before me, vast and indifferent to my desperate mission. I adjust my pack, wincing as the strap presses against a bruised shoulder—a parting gift from the Haven’s Heart security officer who tried to stop me from leaving the settlement. The morning sun breaks through the dense pine canopy, casting dappled light across the forest floor. Somewhere ahead lies a fallen golden eagle, and with him, my heart.
“You’re making a mistake, Doctor.” Captain Reed’s final warning echoes in my mind. “This is treason.”
Perhaps it is. But I’ve discovered that loyalty is more complicated than following orders.
I check my tablet’s tracking system, a modified version of the standard Haven’s Heart field unit. The display shows faint energy signatures concentrated in a canyon approximately three miles northwest. The signal is weak but distinct—a storm energy pattern I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Kael’s.
News of his fall reached the settlement shortly after dawn. A border patrol reported seeing a massive golden eagle plummeting from the sky during what appeared to be an aerialbattle between Storm Eagles. The patrolmen described lightning filling the air, followed by a sickening spiral as the largest eagle fell, its wings failing to catch the wind.
I knew immediately. The mate bond, incomplete as it is, sent phantom pain lancing through my body the moment they described the fallen eagle. When the patrol mentioned the location—a remote canyon between our territories—I didn’t hesitate. I packed medical supplies, stole the portable regenerator from the lab, and slipped away before Marcus or anyone else could stop me.
My brother would understand my leaving, even if he couldn’t condone it. After all, he was the one who intervened when Director Voss wanted me arrested. But he wouldn’t understand where I was going, or why.
The terrain grows steeper as I approach the canyon’s edge. My scientific mind calculates Kael’s chances of survival based on terminal velocity, impact forces, and shifter healing capabilities. The numbers aren’t encouraging. Even with his enhanced Storm Eagle physiology, a fall from that height…
I push the thought away and focus on climbing down the rocky slope. My boots slip on loose scree, sending small avalanches of pebbles cascading below. Every instinct screams that I need to hurry, but a fall won’t help either of us.
Halfway down, I pause to catch my breath. The canyon stretches about a mile in either direction, its walls rising nearly two hundred feet on both sides. A perfect trap if either Haven’s Heart or Storm Eagle patrols discover us. I scan the sky nervously. Viktor would surely send scouts to confirm Kael’s death. And Haven’s Heart will eventually notice my absence.
We’ll have hours at most. If he’s still alive.
The canyon floor is surprisingly lush—a hidden microclimate created by a small stream cutting through the rock. Under different circumstances, I might appreciate its scientific wonder.Now, I follow the tracking signal with single-minded focus, pushing through dense undergrowth until I reach a small clearing.
My heart stops.
Kael lies motionless on the ground, half-transformed between eagle and human form. One massive wing stretches awkwardly beneath him, clearly broken. His other arm is human, covered in deep lacerations. Blood soaks the ground beneath him, far too much blood. His face—human but with eagle features still partially manifest—is deathly pale, his breathing so shallow I can barely detect it.
“Kael,” I whisper, rushing to kneel beside him.
No response. His skin is cool to the touch, his pulse thready and erratic under my fingertips. Trauma-induced partial shifting is one of the worst conditions for a shifter—their bodies caught between forms, unable to fully access either form’s healing capabilities.
Medical training takes over as I assess his injuries: multiple broken bones, internal bleeding, ruptured organs, massive blood loss. The clinical part of my brain catalogs each injury while another part screams that this is Kael—not a patient, but the man who has become essential to my existence.
“I’m not going to let you die,” I tell him, unpacking my medical supplies with shaking hands.
The portable regenerator—stolen technology that would earn me a treason charge all on its own—powers up with a soft hum. I calibrate it for shifter physiology, praying the modifications I made to accommodate Storm Eagle genetics will work. It’s experimental at best, dangerous at worst.
I cut away what remains of his leather armor, exposing the full extent of his injuries. Multiple ribs protrude through the torn muscle. His abdomen is distended from internal bleeding.The broken wing—a horrific compound fracture—makes me nauseous despite my medical training.
The regenerator can help, but it won’t be enough. Not for injuries this severe.
