16
KAEL
News of Elena’s capture feels like a physical blow. I stand atop the ancient ruins where we found refuge, watching as Zara’s messenger—a young Storm Eagle named Sorrel—delivers the report of what transpired prior to me and my patrol engaging with Viktor’s forces and the Dire Wolves earlier today. I am still railing from the shock, trying desperately to comprehend why my headstrong Elena had put herself at harm’s way again. Sorrel’s bronze feathers still tremble from the speed of her flight.
“Viktor’s forces intercepted her during an unauthorized humanitarian mission to a refugee camp,” Sorrel explains, catching her breath. “She went rogue: said screw Haven’s Heart branding her a traitor. She was treating wounded when they struck.”
“How many casualties?” I ask, my voice steady despite the storm building inside me.
“Six dead. Mostly medics who tried to protect her.” Sorrel’s eyes flick downward. “The refugees said she surrendered when Viktor threatened to execute the children.”
Of course she did. Elena would never put others at risk, even to save herself.
“Where have they taken her?” Lightning crackles between my fingers, responding to my barely contained rage.
“Viktor’s war camp at Black Ridge.” Sorrel hands me a small scroll. “Commander Gale sent this. He’s been coordinating with our loyalists still embedded in Viktor’s forces.”
I unroll the parchment, recognizing Gale’s tight, precise script. The message is brief but devastating: Viktor plans to use Elena in a ritual sacrifice at the ancient temple. His scouts have discovered texts suggesting that the blood of a storm-touched healer can amplify magical power a hundredfold. The ritual is scheduled for the full moon—three days from now.
I crush the parchment in my fist as thunder rumbles overhead, echoing my fury. “Send word to Commander Gale. Tell him to maintain his position but prepare for my signal.”
Sorrel nods, shifting back to eagle form and launching skyward. I watch her disappear into the clouds before turning to face the others gathered in our makeshift war room—a partially collapsed chamber in the ruins where ancient murals depict the original bonds between sky and earth magic.
Zara approaches, her face tight with concern. “We can’t mount a direct assault on Black Ridge. Viktor’s positioned at least fifty Storm Eagles there, plus his Dire Wolf allies.”
“And we have twenty-three Storm Eagles loyal to us,” I acknowledge grimly. “Not enough.”
“Not nearly enough,” agrees Commander Tavis, my most experienced battle strategist. “Even with your enhanced abilities, those are suicide odds.”
I pace the stone floor, mind racing through tactical options. “Then we need allies.”
“The neutral clans won’t intervene,” Tavis says, shaking his head. “They’ve maintained their isolation for generations.”
“They might,” Zara interjects, “if they understood what Viktor’s ritual could mean for all territories. This isn’t just about Storm Eagles anymore.”
She’s right. Viktor’s ambition has grown beyond clan leadership or territorial dominance. The ancient texts Elena translated revealed the truth—the original prophecies spoke of balance between elemental forces, not domination. But Viktor has twisted this knowledge, seeking to harness powers no single shifter was meant to control.
“Send emissaries to the wolf and bear clans,” I decide. “And to Haven’s Heart.”
Tavis looks at me sharply. “Haven’s Heart? They consider us enemies. They’ve been hunting you for months.”
“Not all of them.” I turn to the ancient map spread across a stone table. “Elena’s brother Marcus commands their northern forces. He may hate me, but he loves his sister.”
“And if he refuses?” Tavis asks.
“He won’t.” I trace the route between our position and Black Ridge. “He knows Elena discovered something vital in these ruins—something that changes everything we thought we knew about our peoples.”
Zara places a hand on my arm, her eyes searching mine. “What’s your plan, brother?”
I look at the assembled Storm Eagles—warriors who risked everything to follow me after Viktor’s coup. They deserve the truth.
“No more isolation. No more superiority.” I gesture to the ancient murals surrounding us. “Our ancestors understood what we’ve forgotten—true strength comes from balance and cooperation. While Viktor prepares for his ritual, we’ll build a coalition of all territories.”
Skepticism shows on several faces. I can’t blame them. Storm Eagles have maintained their separation for centuries, raised onstories of our genetic superiority and manifest destiny. Asking them to fight alongside ground-dwellers requires a monumental shift in perspective.
“I know what I’m asking,” I continue. “But Elena proved something crucial with her research. Our ‘pure’ bloodlines are weakening from isolation. We need genetic diversity—connections with other clans—to survive.”
“Viktor would call that contamination,” says an older warrior.
