So I do. I take Vera through Grimrose, introducing her to students who've been suppressed and are now starting to thrive under the new environment we're trying to create. The shade-walker girl who can manipulate shadows in ways that go far beyond simple darkness manipulation. The boy with crystalline essence who can create structures out of pure light made solid. The student whose power connects to starlight, drawing energy from the cosmos itself.
All of them have essence types that don't fit Dmitri's seven-element system, and all of them have been labeled as rejects, as failures, as dangerous. But none of them are actually dangerous. They're just different.
Vera records everything, asking questions that dig deeper than surface level, capturing testimonials that are raw and honest. Students talk about the essence suppression sessions, about the enforcers who patrol the halls, about the hopelessness that permeated this place before Stellan's transformation showed them that change was possible.
By the time we reach the training rooms where Stellan and Rumi are working on sustained flight, she's got hours of footage showing rejected Magila who are anything but dangerous. Hoursof proof that the system is broken, that Dmitri's categories are lies designed to maintain control rather than protect anyone.
Stellan is mid-transformation when we enter. Phoenix wings fully manifested, orange eyes glowing, fire controlled and beautiful. He's flying through an obstacle course Rumi set up, weaving between barriers with precision that would be impossible if he were truly unstable. His movements are graceful, powerful, absolutely intentional.
Vera's breath catches. "That's a phoenix. An actual phoenix. I thought they were extinct, that the Council eliminated them all centuries ago."
"That's my mate," I correct, Stellan's awareness of us watching rippling back to me. He lands gracefully, wings folding back before dismissing entirely, his control so much better than it was a week ago. The transformation that used to take him thirty seconds of concentrated effort now happens in less than five.
When he sees the camera, Stellan tenses. His fire flickers, threatening to flare with anxiety. But I'm already moving toward him, my power reaching out to steady him through our bond. "It's okay. She's here to help."
Vera approaches carefully, respect clear in her body language. She's not treating Stellan like a threat or a specimen to be studied, but like a person who deserves dignity. "Stellan Wilder? I'm Vera Chen. I'd like to interview you, if you're willing. Let people see who you really are before the hunters try to define you by their standards instead of yours."
Stellan looks at me, uncertainty written all over his face. His fire essence dims slightly, pulled tight with nervousness. I send reassurance, love, confidence through the marks that bind us. Everything I feel for him, everything I know he's capable of. He takes a shaky breath and nods slowly. "Okay. What do you want to know?"
The interview lasts over an hour. Vera asks about his family, about the years of destruction and fear before he understood what he was. About suppressing his nature, believing he was broken and dangerous and wrong. About finding his mates and learning what he truly is. About the week of training that brought him from terrified and unstable to confident and controlled.
Stellan's voice shakes through parts of it, his fire flickering with emotion. When he talks about his family, small flames dance along his shoulders before he carefully pulls them back in.
Jade moves closer during a brief pause in recording, ostensibly to adjust Stellan's collar. But I see his hand slide to the back of Stellan's neck, claws pressing gently into skin as he feeds on the excess emotion threatening to overwhelm our mate.
"Easy, firebird," Jade murmurs, low enough that the microphones won't catch it. "I've got you."
Stellan leans into the touch, his fire stabilizing as Jade drinks in the grief and transforms it into something manageable. When Jade pulls away, there's a flush on Stellan's cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way Jade's tail briefly curled around his ankle under the table.
Vera notices the interaction, her sharp eyes missing nothing, but she doesn't comment. Maybe she understands that this is part of how we work, how we keep each other balanced.
When he describes the first transformation, his eyes glow orange with the memory. But he doesn't hide. He lets Vera see all of him. The fear and grief mix with hope and determination in ways that make him impossible not to root for.
He talks about what it felt like to believe he was a monster, to carry the weight of years of destruction and his family's fear on his shoulders. He talks about Jade teaching him that his fire could be channeled instead of suppressed, about Harlow showing him that death and rebirth are two sides of the samecoin, about Rumi pushing him past his limits until he broke through to the other side.
And he talks about me. About how I saw him, really saw him, not as a broken fire elemental but as a phoenix. About how that recognition changed everything.
By the end, Vera is genuinely moved. Her eyes glaze over with tears she's trying to hide behind professional composure. "The world needs to see this," she says firmly, her voice thick with emotion. "When the hunters try to strip your essence tomorrow, millions of people will have already seen this interview. They'll know you're not a monster. They'll know the Council is wrong. They'll know that the system is designed to break people like you instead of help them."
More journalists arrive throughout the day. Tamara granted them special access for the demonstration—a first for Grimrose, but she argued that if the Council wanted a public spectacle, they'd get one on our terms. Ambrose vetted each of them carefully. Independent operators, no Council ties, reputations for integrity and willingness to challenge authority. By evening, we have five camera crews set up around the demonstration space, enough coverage to capture every angle of what's going to happen tomorrow.
They interview other students too. Mira, the shade-walker, talks about how essence suppression sessions nearly killed her. Theo, the crystalline essence student, describes watching his roommate lose his essence entirely, becoming a hollow shell. And Cas explains how the enforcers beat him for manifesting his starlight power, told him he was an abomination that should have been eliminated at birth.
The journalists document everything. The scorch marks on the walls from Stellan's training. The frost patterns from Harlow's death-chill. The claw marks from Jade's demon strength. The glowing symbols from Ambrose's contracts. All the evidence ofwhat we've been building here, proof that rejected Magila aren't dangerous when given proper support instead of systematic oppression.
That night, all six of us collapse in my quarters, exhausted but wired with nervous energy. The bonds between us are pulled taut, thrumming with anticipation and fear. Tomorrow. Everything we've been preparing for happens tomorrow.
We're all tangled together on the bed, seeking comfort in proximity and touch that grows increasingly desperate as the night deepens. This might be our last night together if things go wrong tomorrow, and none of us want to waste it on sleep.
Jade is the first to break the unspoken tension. He pulls Stellan into a kiss that's more hunger than tenderness, his demon nature rising to the surface as he feeds on the fear in the room and transforms it into desire. Stellan responds immediately, his fire flaring warm against Jade's purple aura, the two of them creating that feedback loop they've perfected over the past week.
Rumi's wings spread wide, creating a canopy of golden light that wraps around all of us. "If we're doing this," he says, his divine voice rough with want, "we're doing it together. All of us."
What follows is less about pleasure and more about connection, though there's plenty of both. Hands everywhere, mouths finding skin, essences intertwining until I can't tell whose arousal I'm feeling through the bonds. Harlow's cold touch balances Stellan's heat. Ambrose's contracts weave binding patterns across our skin that make every touch resonate through all six of us simultaneously. Rumi's divine power amplifies everything until we're all gasping, all desperate, all clinging to each other like we're afraid to let go.
We don't go further than hands and mouths tonight, too exhausted and too anxious for more, but by the time we finally still, we're all sated and boneless. The fear hasn't disappeared,but it's been drowned in something stronger. Love. Connection. The absolute certainty that whatever happens tomorrow, we face it as one.
I'm at the center of the pile, Jade on one side with Stellan in his arms, Harlow on the other with his death-cold fingers intertwined with mine. Rumi's wings still canopy us all while Ambrose traces invisible contracts in the air, his lips moving silently as he monitors every thread he's woven.
