Viktor smiles without heat. “Bring him,” he says. The guards surge; I blow the torches and turn the hall into thunder. The roof trembles. When the smoke clears, I am gone—driven back, not broken.
We will not get another clean approach before dawn.
Outside, a storm builds over Black Ridge. On the far ridgelines, coalition beacons answer one another, a chain of Sable-bright signals that march toward us. They will be here at first light.
I take the wind, fury coiled tight. “Hold,” I send to Zara. “They have Elena. Ritual at dawn.”
And the storm answers me back.
19
ELENA
Through the mate bond, I feel Kael’s presence like a surge of electricity moments before I see him in the shadows. Relief floods through me so powerfully that I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. He’s here. He’s alive. The coalition held.
The guards beside me remain oblivious, their attention focused on the sounds of battle filtering through the temple walls. I’ve spent three days memorizing their patterns, their weaknesses. The one on my left favors his right leg—an old injury that makes him slower to pivot. The one on my right has a tell when he’s about to move—his wings twitch slightly, a nervous habit.
Kael reads my subtle signals perfectly, understanding flowing between us through our bond without the need for words. I watch him position himself, storm magic gathering around his hands in controlled pulses.
Before either of us can move, the chamber door swings open and Viktor strides in, his silver-streaked hair gleaming in the torchlight. “Dr. Ashford,” he says, his voice falsely pleasant. “Ihope you’ve had time to consider your position. Your mate has arrived, just as I predicted.”
I keep my expression neutral despite the fear that spikes through me. Viktor knowing Kael is here, changes everything. “The only thing I’ve considered is how fundamentally you’ve misinterpreted the ancient texts. The ritual you’re attempting wasn’t designed for domination.”
“No?” Viktor’s smile is cold, predatory. “Then what was its purpose, doctor?”
“Balance,” I reply, buying time, feeling Kael’s tension through our bond. “Unity between sky and earth magic. Not supremacy of one over the other.”
Viktor laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. “A convenient interpretation for someone in your position.” He turns toward the shadows where Kael hides. “Isn’t that right, Kael? You can emerge now. My guards have this chamber surrounded.”
Kael steps into the light, lightning crackling visibly around his hands. The sight of him—powerful, determined, here for me—makes my heart race despite the danger. “It’s over, Viktor. Your forces are in disarray. Our coalition has broken through your defenses.”
“Irrelevant.” Viktor draws the ritual blade from his belt. It pulses with stolen life force, casting sickly light across the chamber. The sight of it makes my stomach turn—I know exactly how many lives have fed that hungry blade. “Once I complete the ritual, I’ll have power beyond anything our clan has seen in centuries. Power enough to crush any resistance.”
“At the cost of innocent lives,” Kael says, moving slowly to position himself between Viktor and me.
“Necessary sacrifices for our clan’s ascendance.” Viktor’s eyes narrow. “Though I’m disappointed you couldn’t see that. You were supposed to be our prophesied leader, Kael. Instead, you’ve betrayed everything we stand for.”
“I’ve seen the true prophecies,” Kael counters. “Not your corrupted translations. They speak of balance, not domination. Of cooperation, not conquest.”
Outside, explosions shake the temple. The battle is intensifying. Through the bond, I feel Kael’s urgent need to free the prisoners before Viktor can use them.
“Lies from a leader corrupted by ground-dweller influence,” Viktor snarls. He raises the ritual blade. “But it doesn’t matter now. Your mate will be the final sacrifice. Her storm-touched blood will complete the ritual, and I will claim the power that should have been yours.”
“You’ll have to go through me first.” Kael summons his storm magic fully, electricity arcing between his hands in brilliant displays.
Viktor smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
The battle erupts with shocking speed. Viktor lunges forward, the ritual blade slicing through the air with unnatural speed. Kael dodges, releasing a bolt of lightning that Viktor deflects with the blade. The stolen life force within it absorbs the attack, growing brighter.
“Your power feeds mine,” Viktor laughs. “Every attack strengthens the blade.”
I use the distraction to work on my bonds, my fingers glowing faintly with silver-blue light. The guards haven’t noticed, their attention fixed on the spectacular battle between the two Storm Eagles. My healing magic, awakened and strengthened by Kael’s presence, eats away at the restraints.
From where Viktor’s trap has dragged me—chained to the ritual circle’s edge—I can only watch as Kael shifts tactics, engaging Viktor in close combat where the blade’s advantage is minimized. They trade blows with supernatural speed, the clash of their storm magic filling the chamber with crackling energy.But I can see Kael is tiring—days of preparation and battle taking their toll.
The token Lyra pressed into my hand burns against my palm. “Keyed to the chains,” she’d said. I work it carefully against the lock mechanism, feeling it respond to the magical signature. The chains loosen, but I keep my position, waiting for the right moment to break free of them. Through our bond, I send Kael a pulse of readiness.
He responds by maneuvering the fight toward the prisoner cages. “You never understood the true source of Storm Eagle power,” he tells Viktor, dodging another slash. “It isn’t isolation that makes us strong. It’s connection.”
