The chamber erupts in outraged cries. Viktor moves toward me, hand raised, but Elder Talon’s staff strikes the stone floor with a resonant crack that silences everyone.
“Explain yourself, ground-dweller,” he commands, his golden eyes—so like Kael’s but faded with age—fixed on my face.
This is the moment. I step forward, embracing the role I’ve been preparing for since I first analyzed Kael’s blood and saw the truth. No longer just a scientist, but an advocate for genetic reality over magical myths.
“May I show you?” I ask, gesturing toward the tablet. Elder Talon hesitates, then nods, handing it to me.
I access the genetic analysis program, pulling up comparison charts that even non-scientists can understand. My fingers move rapidly, highlighting key sequences and projecting the display so all can see.
“This is Storm Eagle DNA from three generations ago,” I explain, showing a complex, vibrant pattern. “And this”—I swipe to the next screen—”is the current Storm Eagle genetic structure. The markers for storm magic are weakening. The sequences that allow your transformations are becoming unstable.”
I project a timeline, a downward trend that cannot be ignored. “Within four generations, your ability to control lightning will diminish. Within seven, the shifting ability itself will begin to fail. Your children are already showing signs—reduced wingspan, delayed transformation, weakened storm affinity.”
Commander Gale, the youngest elder, steps forward. “How can you know this?”
“Because it’s written in your blood,” I reply simply. “The same patterns have been documented in other isolated shifter populations. Genetic diversity isn’t contamination—it’s survival.”
“Lies!” Viktor slams his fist against a stone column. “She twists science to justify corruption!”
“Is it corruption when plants cross-pollinate to create stronger offspring?” I counter. “Is it corruption when differentmetals are alloyed to create stronger weapons? The oldest Storm Eagle records speak of alliances with ground clans that had complementary abilities. Those weren’t warnings—they were examples to follow.”
A young female Eagle steps forward from the crowd. “Is that why some hatchlings can’t manifest full wings?”
“Silence!” Viktor commands, but others join her.
“Three children this season cannot summon lightning!”
“My nephew’s feathers grow wrong, twisted!”
“The transformation takes longer each generation!”
I sense the tide turning. These aren’t abstract theories to them; they’re witnessing the effects in their own families.
“These are signs of genetic deterioration,” I confirm. “But they can be reversed. Your ancestors understood this. The strongest Storm Eagles historically came from bloodlines that periodically introduced new genetic material from compatible clans.”
Elder Tempest studies me with narrowed eyes. “Compatible clans? You mean… ground-dwellers like yourself?”
“Some ground clans carry markers similar to yours,” I explain. “Particularly those with earth-magic abilities that complement storm powers. The historical records Kael showed me in your archives suggest that the original Storm Eagles often formed mate bonds with healing-touched ground clans.”
I glance at Kael, whose face shows pride despite his captivity. He knew this would be my approach—using science to challenge tradition, but framing it within their own historical context.
Viktor stalks across the platform toward me. “Enough of these falsehoods! She seduces you with promises while plotting our destruction!”
“If I wanted your destruction,” I respond calmly, “I would have reported Kael’s identity to Haven’s Heart the first time he came to my medical station. I would have analyzed his blood forweaknesses instead of strengths. I would have taken the Storm Eagle wing your people deliberately left as a warning and used it to develop targeted bioweapons.”
The elders exchange startled glances. I’ve surprised them with my knowledge of the wing incident—something only their high council should know about.
“Instead,” I continue, “I protected Kael’s identity. I concealed my most significant discoveries from my superiors. I defied direct orders to find him when he fell, knowing it might cost me everything.”
“Why?” Elder Talon asks, genuine curiosity in his ancient eyes. “Why betray your people for ours?”
I consider my answer carefully. The truth is complex—part scientific integrity, part moral awakening, part the inexplicable pull of the mate bond. But these proud warriors need an answer they can understand.
“Because truth matters more than politics,” I say finally. “Because your extinction would impoverish our world. And because…”—I hesitate, then commit fully—”because what’s happening between your people and mine is more important than ancient hatreds.”
A younger council member leans forward. “What do you mean by ‘what’s happening’?”
Viktor interrupts before I can answer. “She speaks of abomination! Of mixing our sacred bloodline with ground-dweller filth!”
