Then it twisted. Pain lanced through her ribs, a memory of Thorne’s strike, the one that had broken her last time. Her breath faltered. The magic wavered.
“Focus,” Thorne snapped. His tone was clipped, cold. “You’re bleeding energy everywhere.”
She spun toward him. “Then stopwatchingme and maybe I’ll?—”
“Do better?” he cut in, voice sharp as flint. “You think the storm cares about your feelings?”
Her anger flared, and the storm woke.
Wind ripped across the arena, scattering ash, snapping through her braid. Sparks flickered from her palms. The magic wasn’t answering anymore. It was rebelling.
Thorne lunged forward instinctively, catching her by the arms as the force surged between them. The moment he touched her, heat and lightning collided.
It wasn’t like the last time, no explosion, no storm breaking glass, but something worse. Intimate. Terrifying.
His Fire and her Aether clashed like two hearts trying to beat in the same body.
Thaelyn gasped, eyes wide. “Let go.”
“I can’t or I would,” Thorne bit out.
The world blurred. The air shimmered around them, silver and red twining together until there was no space between their breaths. She could feel his heartbeat hammering through his chest, his pulse echoing in hers.
“Breathe,” Vaelen shouted from somewhere distant. “Together, or you’ll drown in it!”
Thaelyn’s vision blurred. Her chest ached, her rib screaming in pain. She wanted to hate him, for his calm, his arrogance, for being the only thing holding her steady. But when she met his eyes, the fire there wasn’t cruelty. It was fear.
He was terrified for her. “Thaelyn,” he groaned. “Breathe with me. Now.”
She matched his inhale. The power surged. Exhale. It steadied. Again and again.
Their magic began to pulse in rhythm, each breath tightening the invisible thread that bound them.
The light dimmed. The air cooled. When it finally fell silent, she realized her forehead was pressed against his. Their hands were still locked together.
For a moment, neither moved.
She could still feel the storm’s echo humming in her veins. His warmth pressed against her palms. It burned her worse than any fire.
She tore away first, stumbling back. “Don’t touch me.”
He didn’t follow. But his eyes stayed on her, dark and searching. “You’d be dead if I hadn’t.”
“And whose fault would that be?” she shot back, voice breaking.
His jaw tightened. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked to be tied to someone who doesn’t listen, who almost—” He stopped himself. The rest of the sentence,who almost died because of me,hung unsaid between them.
Vaelen stepped forward slowly. “Enough,” he murmured. “You’ve done what no one else has: contained the Aether through a living anchor. It’s imperfect, but it’s something.”
Commander Dareth descended the stairs, boots echoing. “It’s more than something. It’s survival.”
His gaze landed on Thorne, then Thaelyn. “You’ll keep training together until you can replicate control. If she slips again, your Fire grounds her. If you lose control, she cuts your current. Neither of you works alone.”
Thaelyn’s shoulders stiffened. “You’re making him my handler?”
Commander Dareth’s voice was quiet but firm. “I’m making him your lifeline.”
Her pulse spiked. “I don’t need one.”
