Torin surfaces in the river below the dam, his transformed form sleek and deadly, electricity dancing along his golden-veined scales. He shifts partially human, standing in the shallows, water swirling around his legs.
We face Caspian’s forces together. Thirty against two. Fanatics against lovers. Genocide against hope.
The odds should terrify me. They don’t.
Because I’m not the safe diplomat anymore. I’m not the controlled Storm Eagle who buries her wild nature to avoid embarrassing the family. I’m not Kael’s little sister trying to prove she’s worthy.
I’m the storm. We’re the storm. And storms don’t back down.
Caspian’s voice carries across the distance, amplified by water magic: “You should be dead, Sky Witch. Drowned in the Oubliette like the poison you are.”
“I’m not poison.” My voice comes out calm. Certain. Diplomat and storm speaking as one. “I’m possibility. And you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“The only mistake I made was not killing you when I had the chance.” His hands rise again, and the ritual resumes. More pressure. More cracks spreading through the dam. “But don’t worry. When the valley floods, I’ll make sure your brother knows you died trying to stop it. I’ll make sure the Integration Alliance understands that this is what happens when you force integration on people who don’t want it.”
“You’re not protecting your people.” Torin’s voice cuts through the wind. “You’re destroying them. The Alliance will retaliate. They’ll wipe out every Deep Runner they can find. You’re not saving us. You’re ensuring our extinction.”
“Then we’ll die on our own terms.” Caspian’s expression goes hard. “Not assimilated. Not integrated. Not corrupted by Sky Witch seduction and false promises of coexistence. We’ll die Deep Runners. Pure. Uncompromised.”
The fanaticism in his voice chills me. He’s not just planning genocide. He’s planning martyrdom. Taking his people down with him in a blaze of righteous fury.
There’s no negotiating with that. No diplomatic solution. No words that will reach someone who’s decided death is better than change.
All we can do is stop him.
Through the bond, I feel Torin’s grim determination matching mine. Feel his love. Feel his certainty that whatever happens next, we face it together.
Ready? I send.
Born ready, he answers.
The storm overhead answers my call. Lightning illuminates the clouds. Thunder shakes the valley. And in the river below, water begins to glow with contained electricity as Torin gathers every ounce of power we’ve gained through our transformation.
Caspian sees it. Sees what we’re about to do. And he makes his choice.
“Kill them!” he shouts to his forces. “Kill them both, and let the valley learn what happens to traitors!”
The Deep Runners surge forward—in the water, on the dam’s surface, from positions we didn’t see. Thirty warriors, trained and deadly, all focused on us.
I spread my wings wide and let the storm speak through me.
It’s time to show them what the storm can do.
17
TORIN
The battle begins. And with it, everything I am.
Ten warriors hit me at once—all shifted, all veteran Sentinels I’ve trained beside, fought beside, trusted. Now they’re trying to kill me. Water erupts from every direction, forming blades and hammers and crushing pressure that would kill an ordinary Deep Runner in seconds.
But I’m not ordinary anymore.
I twist through the attacks, faster than I’ve ever moved, electricity crackling along my scales as I dodge. A water blade grazes my shoulder—would have taken my arm if I’d been a heartbeat slower. Blood mingles with river water, but the pain is distant. Manageable. I’ve trained for worse.
What I haven’t trained for is fighting my own people.
I recognize Kellan in the front—the guard captain from the Oubliette, the one who let us pass in the Citadel. Whatever doubt he had then has evaporated now. His expression is pure conviction as he launches another attack.
