“Not a threat. A promise.”
Elder Talon raises his staff, thumping it against the stone floor. “There will be order in this council!” He turns to Elena, curiosity evident beneath his stern expression. “Healer, you claim our bloodline is weakening. Explain.”
Viktor protests, but Elder Talon silences him with a gesture. The council leans forward, their collective attention focused on Elena. Despite everything, I feel a surge of pride as she stands straighter, shifting effortlessly into the role of scientific educator.
“Storm Eagle genetics contain unique markers for elemental manipulation,” she explains, her voice gaining confidence. “These markers require specific complementary genes to remain stable across generations. Without new genetic input, these markers become increasingly unstable—leading to weakened abilities, physical problems, and eventually sterility.”
She speaks clearly, translating complex genetic theory into terms they can understand. Elder Tempest, always the most traditional council member, frowns in concentration.
“You’re suggesting we need to… breed… with other clans?” she asks, the distaste evident in her voice.
“I’m suggesting that genetic diversity strengthens, not weakens,” Elena corrects. “Your ancestors understood this. The oldest Storm Eagles formed alliances with ground clans that had complementary magical abilities. It wasn’t contamination—it was survival.”
“Lies and manipulation!” Viktor shouts. “She twists ancient knowledge to serve Haven’s Heart’s agenda!”
“If that were true,” I interject, “why would she have risked her life to save mine in the canyon? Why would Haven’s Heart consider her a traitor for helping me?”
The council chambers fall silent as this information registers. Elder Talon’s gaze sharpens.
“Is this true, healer? Your people consider you a traitor?”
Elena nods. “I violated direct orders when I left to find Kael. They captured me when I was healing him.” Her eyes find mine briefly. “I chose to help him despite knowing the consequences.”
“Why?” Elder Tempest asks, genuine confusion in her voice. “Why betray your people for an enemy?”
Elena hesitates, and I can see her weighing her words carefully. “Because I believe in truth over politics. Kael’s death would benefit no one except those who profit from conflict. And because…” she pauses, then continues with quiet conviction, “because what’s happening between our peoples is more important than old hatreds.”
Viktor snorts derisively. “Sentiment. Weakness. The very corruption I warned against.” He turns to the council. “We’ve heard enough. The penalty for contamination is death for both parties. I call for immediate execution.”
“You call for immediate execution because you fear what she might reveal about your own plans,” I challenge. “Tell them, Viktor. Tell them about your alliance with the Dire Wolves.”
Shock ripples through the council chamber. Alliance with Dire Wolves—our ancient enemies—is unthinkable.
“More desperate lies,” Viktor dismisses, but I notice the slight tension in his shoulders.
“Not lies,” Elena interjects. “I found communications in his private quarters while being held. He’s promised the wolves access to southern hunting grounds in exchange for ground support against Haven’s Heart.”
Viktor moves with explosive speed, backhanding Elena with enough force to send her stumbling. “Silence, ground-dweller!”
I lunge forward, but the guards restrain me as lightning crackles involuntarily around my bound wrists. The suppression runes should prevent this, but something has changed in me since Elena’s healing in the canyon. My storm magic responds differently now, stronger, more focused.
“She speaks truth,” comes a voice from the chamber entrance. Zara stands there, her bronze hair disheveled, her expression fierce. “I found the same evidence in Viktor’s quarters.”
“The Stormwright’s sister,” Viktor sneers. “Hardly an impartial witness.”
Zara steps fully into the chamber, unrolling a parchment. “This bears your seal, Viktor. A treaty with Alpha Fenris of the Dire Wolves, promising territorial concessions in exchange for military support.”
The council erupts in outrage. Dire Wolves are considered dishonorable even among ground clans—known for breaking treaties when convenient and slaughtering innocents without remorse.
Viktor’s composure fractures. “Sometimes necessary evils serve the greater good! The prophecy must be fulfilled!”
“The prophecy speaks of uniting, not conquering,” I say, watching as Viktor’s carefully constructed facade begins to crumble. “You’ve twisted ancient words to serve your ambition.”
Elder Talon takes the parchment from Zara, studying it with increasing concern. “This appears authentic. Stormwarden, explain yourself.”
Viktor’s gaze darts around the chamber, calculating. I recognize the look—he’s searching for escape routes, assessing threats. Whatever plan he had is unraveling, and Viktor has never responded well to failure.
“The Storm Eagles are destined to rule!” he shouts, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Our dominion was promised! If alliance with lesser beings serves that end, so be it!”
