The guards hesitate, uncertainty crossing their faces. Elena’s tribunal testimony has affected them too.
“The Stormwright escaped,” one says, though his weapon lowers slightly. “Our orders are to secure all prisoners.”
“And will you secure them for a leader who plans to dilute Storm Eagle blood with Dire Wolf alliances?” I challenge. “Viktor speaks of purity while plotting to mix our clan with ground predators for political gain.”
Doubt flickers in their eyes. I press the advantage. “I don’t ask you to fight your brothers. Simply step aside.”
A tense moment passes before the senior guard makes a decision, stepping away from the center of the corridor. His partner follows suit, creating a path for us.
“We saw nothing,” he says quietly.
We hurry past, but more shouts echo from multiple directions. The aerie is mobilizing. We won’t make it to the eastern platforms without confrontation.
“This way,” I pull Elena down a narrow side passage that few remember exists. The ancient tunnel, carved by the original Storm Eagle settlers, bypasses the main corridors. “This leads to the ceremonial platform—it’s closer than the eastern gathering point.”
“The execution platform?” Elena asks, surprised.
“Yes. Viktor will have prepared it for dawn. But it’s also the highest point in the aerie, where storm magic flows most freely.” I grip her hand tighter. “If we’re going to make a stand, that’s where our powers will be strongest.”
We emerge onto the massive circular platform jutting from the mountain face. The pre-dawn sky swirls with unnatural storm clouds—dark, lightning-laced formations that circle directly above us. The platform stands empty, ceremonial torches unlit, the execution block a dark shadow against the eastern horizon.
Elena stares at the gathering storm. “You’re doing this?”
“Not intentionally.” I glance at our still-joined hands. “I think we both are.”
The first rays of dawn light touch the distant peaks just as Viktor’s voice rings out behind us.
“How appropriate that you bring yourself to your execution site, ground-dweller.” He strides onto the platform, flanked by a dozen warriors. His silver-streaked hair lifts in the rising wind, and his steel-gray eyes gleam with triumph. “And Kael, so predictable in your sentimentality. Two traitors for one execution.”
I position myself between him and Elena. “The only traitor here is the man who would ally with Dire Wolves against his own kind.”
Viktor’s expression flickers, but he recovers quickly. “Necessary alliances to ensure our survival. Something you never understood, with your merciful raids and minimalcasualties.” He addresses the growing crowd of Storm Eagles gathering around the platform edges. “See how the contamination spreads! Even now he protects the ground-dweller above his own people!”
“I protect truth,” I counter, my voice carrying across the platform. “Elena has proven what some of us have suspected for generations—our isolation weakens rather than strengthens us.”
The storm clouds above churn more violently, lightning arcing between them in complex patterns. Several Eagles point upward, murmuring in concern. Storm Eagles can influence weather, but none have ever created a tempest of this magnitude without deliberate effort.
Elena steps forward, her hands beginning to glow. “Your people are dying, Viktor. Not from external threats, but from within. Each generation is born weaker than the last—fewer are able to shift completely, fewer yet are able to call lightning.”
“Lies!” Viktor snarls, but uncertain glances pass between his warriors.
“Not lies,” calls a voice from the crowd. Zara steps forward, leading a group of younger Eagles. “My own cousin’s children cannot manifest wings before their fifth year—unheard of in our history.”
Commander Gale joins her. “Three hatchlings this season with malformed pinions. Seven more who cannot call even the smallest spark.”
The crowd murmurs, division spreading like ripples in still water. Viktor senses his control slipping.
“Enough!” Lightning erupts from his fingertips, striking the platform between us. “I am Stormwarden! My word is law!”
But his display of power seems diminished compared to the massive storm building above us—a storm responding to the energy flowing between Elena and me.
I take Elena’s hand again, feeling our combined power surge through me. “A true leader protects his people’s future, not their past, Viktor. You cling to traditions that are killing us, while fearing the very salvation that stands before you.”
Lightning pulses between our joined hands, neither silver-blue nor golden now, but a perfect merging of both—a new magic born from unity rather than division. The crowd falls silent, watching in awe as the energy spirals upward to join the storm.
“This is what the prophecies truly meant,” Elena calls out, her voice strong despite her exhaustion. “Not dominion of sky over earth, but unity between them. Balance. Harmony. The Storm Eagles were never meant to rule alone—they were meant to bridge the divide between territories.”
The dawn light spreads across the platform as the storm above intensifies. The contrast creates an otherworldly glow around us—silver-blue healing light merged with golden storm energy, illuminating the ancient stone in patterns not seen for generations.
