“I speak of evolution,” I counter firmly. “Of returning to the original balance that made Storm Eagles the apex of the shifter kind. Your ancestors understood that isolation leads to stagnation. The prophecies themselves speak of uniting sky and earth.”
“She twists our sacred texts!” Viktor snarls, but I notice doubt flickering across several elders’ faces.
Elder Talon turns to Kael. “You have remained silent, Stormwright. What say you to her claims?”
The guards loosen Kael’s bonds enough for him to step forward. Despite his injuries and captivity, he radiates the natural authority that made him a leader from such a young age.
“Everything she says is true,” he states simply. “I’ve seen the evidence myself—both scientific and historical. Our isolation was necessary when the barriers stood between territories, but that time has passed. We face extinction if we cling to misunderstood traditions.”
“Misunderstood?” Elder Tempest challenges.
“The prophecy speaks of uniting sky and earth under eagle wings,” Kael reminds them. “Not conquering, not subjugating—uniting. There’s a difference.”
The crowd murmurs, considering his words. I notice younger Eagles nodding, while traditionalists cluster near Viktor, their expressions hardening.
Viktor sees his control slipping. With a sudden movement, he snatches the tablet from my hands, throwing it to the ground where it shatters.
“Enough debate! The law is clear—contamination by ground-dweller influence is punishable by death. I call for the immediate execution of both traitors!”
Before anyone can respond, a strange sensation washes over me—a tingling awareness that begins in my chest and radiates outward. I glance at Kael and see that he feels it too. Our incomplete mate bond, dormant since our separation, stirs to life under the stress of the moment.
My hands begin to glow faintly with silver-blue light. Across the chamber, lightning crackles subtly around Kael’s fingers despite his restraints. Several Eagles notice, eyes widening.
“See how she corrupts him even now!” Viktor declares, pointing at the visible energy. “She infects him with her ground-dweller magic!”
“That’s not what’s happening,” says a quiet voice from the crowd. Zara steps forward, her bronze hair gleaming in the chamber’s light. “I’ve seen this before, when she healed me. Her power doesn’t corrupt—it complements.”
She moves to stand beside Kael. “What they share isn’t contamination. It’s a balance. Storm and silver, sky and earth—just as the oldest stories describe.”
The energy between Kael and me intensifies, a visible connection that spans the chamber. I feel stronger, more centered, despite my physical exhaustion. Across the space, Kael stands straighter, his injuries seeming to trouble him less.
Elder Talon observes with ancient eyes that miss nothing. “This bond between them… it enhances rather than diminishes.”
“Precisely what my research showed,” I confirm. “Combined genetic strengths produce more powerful offspring. It’s why the original Storm Eagles sought earth-healers as mates. The resulting children had both storm control and healing abilities—stronger than either bloodline alone.”
The crowd’s attention shifts back and forth between us, witnessing something many have only heard about in legends—the visible manifestation of a growing mate bond. I see wonder in many faces, fear in others.
Viktor recognizes his losing position. With a snarl of frustration, he changes tactics.
“The council must deliberate on these claims,” he announces. “I call for immediate seclusion of the elders while the prisoners are returned to their cells. The execution will be scheduled for dawn tomorrow, giving the council time to consider all evidence.”
Elder Talon nods reluctantly. “The council will deliberate. Guards, return the prisoners to separate holding cells.”
As guards move to lead us away, Kael and I lock eyes one final time. The bond between us pulses with unspoken communication:
Be ready. This isn’t over.
Outside, thunder rumbles across the mountain peaks—a gathering storm that mirrors the tension within the aerie. I feel it calling to something inside me, a resonance that grows stronger with each passing hour.
As they lead me back to my cell, I notice subtle changes in how the Storm Eagles regard me. Some watch with open curiosity now instead of hostility. Others whisper among themselves, glancing between Kael and me with newfound understanding.
The guards place me in a small chamber carved into the mountain, its single window facing east toward the rising sun—the direction of tomorrow’s scheduled execution. One young guard lingers at the door, hesitating before speaking.
“Is it true?” she asks quietly. “About the weakening bloodlines?”
I meet her gaze steadily. “Every word. Check your birth records. Count how many children each generation manifest full storm abilities compared to the generation before.”
She nods thoughtfully before securing the door, leaving me alone with the knowledge that seeds of doubt have been planted.
