"Political reality differs from objective truth," Raak explains carefully. "This evidence would be dismissed as circumstantial at best, fabricated at worst."
"They'd claim we planted it ourselves," Vulcan says flatly. "To divert blame from our failure."
"Fuck!" I slam my palm against the table, a small spark of electricity accompanying the impact. The lights in the laboratory flicker, responding to my surge of emotion. "So we just accept their narrative? Let them exile us based on a lie?"
"No," Spark says firmly. "We approach this strategically rather than reactively."
"This is not just about proving your innocence," Raak adds, his military mind analyzing the situation with cold precision. "It's about countering a calculated political move designed to halt the Ancestral Flame Protocol entirely."
The implications hit me fully. Our bond is just one piece of a larger political struggle—traditionalists versus progressives, isolation versus integration, stagnation versus evolution. We'repawns in a game with stakes far beyond our personal relationship.
"So what do we do?" I ask, forcing myself to consider the broader picture.
Spark's eyes gleam with determination. "We prove them wrong in the most irrefutable way possible—by demonstrating absolute control over abilities they claimed you couldn't master."
"We need to train beyond personal development toward public demonstration," I explain to Vulcan as we stand in the center of the storm chamber. "Convert fear through visible control rather than verbal denial."
Vulcan studies me with intensity, his blue eyes scanning my face, my posture, my energy signature.
"Begin with basic electrical generation," he directs, his voice carrying authority without dominance.
I close my eyes, focusing on the energy reservoir I discovered during our bonding. The power flows differently now—less wild but somehow deeper, less flashy but more substantial. Blue-white current crackles across my palm with newfound intensity, more focused than before the disruption.
"Good," Vulcan murmurs, circling me with interest. "The energy signature has changed. More coherent wavelength structure. Greater density."
"It feels different," I confirm, studying the electricity dancing across my skin. "More... mine, somehow. Less borrowed."
"The disruption may have accelerated your genetic awakening," he theorizes, reaching out to trace a finger near the current without touching it. "Forced adaptation through stress response."
"Now direct the current toward the practice target," Vulcan instructs, indicating a reinforced metal structure twenty feet away.
I narrow my focus, channeling the electricity toward the target. The current leaves my palm with concentrated power, hitting the bullseye with perfect accuracy.
Instead of dispersing on contact as expected, the current does something unprecedented—energy penetrating the metal surface, electricity passing through the conductive material, power transferring into the metal pole rather than discharging upon impact.
The metal target glows with absorbed energy—electrical current traveling throughout its internal structure, visible power illuminating conductive pathways, tangible force spreading through the physical form without dissipation.
Vulcan stares, his expression shifting from controlled instruction to naked amazement. "The disruption didn't weaken us," he realizes, excitement threading his voice. "It somehow strengthened us—forced adaptation through resilience development."
I stare at the glowing target, immediately seeing defensive applications, offensive potential, practical implementations beyond simple demonstration.
"Try to recall it," Vulcan suggests, curiosity overriding training protocol.
I extend my hand toward the still-glowing target, focusing on the energy I sent into it. To my surprise, I feel a connection—a tether linking me to the electricity now contained within the metal structure.
With a gentle mental tug, the energy flows back to me, returning to my palm in a concentrated stream that makes my skin tingle with power.
"Holy shit," I breathe, staring at the reclaimed energy dancing across my fingers. "That's new."
Vulcan's eyes gleam with fascination. "That's unprecedented. Dragons discharge electrical energy. We don't reclaim it after release."
"My electricity isn't pure dragon," I observe. "Hybrid abilities mean hybrid manifestations."
The realization hits me with weight far beyond this single moment. Cross-species bonds don’t just create personal connection—they produce new capabilities, unexpected advantages, benefits no one predicted. The traditionalists tried to sabotage us, but instead they’ve strengthened what they meant to destroy.
Vulcan steps closer to the darkened crystal, eyes bright with excitement as he studies the phenomenon.
“Electrical integrity holds despite direct contact,” he murmurs. “Human bioelectric patterns merging with dragon storm energy—forming a stable structure that should be impossible.”
