Page 63 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice
“Sentimental nonsense,” Viktor sneers. “Power comes from purity. From superiority.”
“Then why ally with Dire Wolves?” Kael counters, catching Viktor’s wrist as he thrusts the blade toward his chest. “Why compromise your precious purity?”
The question hits home. Fury flashes in Viktor’s eyes. “Temporary necessity. Once I have absolute power, they’ll be the first to kneel—or die.”
“Now, Elena!” Kael shouts suddenly, releasing a blinding surge of lightning.
The token completes its work, and the chains fall away. I spring forward, my hands already glowing with healing energy.
Not killing—I feel through our bond that my influence has tempered his combat style—but disabling with surgical precision.
Viktor recovers from the blinding light, rage contorting his features. “Stop them!” he shouts, but it’s too late. The prisoners closest to me—the ones I managed to free with the token—stream toward the exits, where sounds of combat indicate our forces have breached the temple.
I race to Kael’s side, our proximity immediately strengthening both our abilities through the mate bond. My hands glow with healing energy while lightning dances around him—storm and earth magic in perfect complement.
“The ritual blade,” I say urgently. “We need to destroy it.”
Viktor hears me. “You’re too late,” he snarls, backing toward the main chamber. “The preparations are complete. All I need is power—and there are plenty of other sources available.”
He raises the blade high, beginning an incantation in the ancient Storm Eagle language. The blade’s glow intensifies, drawing energy from the ambient magic in the temple itself.
“He’s using the stored life force,” I explain rapidly to Kael. “If he completes the ritual, he’ll gain permanent dominion over all storm magic—and the ability to strip it from others.”
“How do we stop him?” Kael asks, his hand finding mine.
“Together,” I say, understanding flooding through me. “The blade is designed to absorb life force taken by violence. But freely given power—that’s something it was never meant to handle.”
Kael’s eyes widen with understanding. “The counter-ritual. The one from the ruins.”
We move as one, following Viktor into the main chamber. The scene that greets us is chaos—Sable’s wolves have broken through, engaging Viktor’s remaining guards while freed prisoners flee toward safety. The ancient altar stands at the center, surrounded by ritual circles carved into the floor.
Viktor stands before the altar, the blade now blazing with stolen power. The temple trembles as magical energies converge, responding to his dark invocation.
“We need to reach the inner circle,” I tell Kael. “The original one, beneath Viktor’s markings.”
We fight our way forward, our combined abilities creating a path through the chaos. Viktor sees us approaching and speeds up his incantation, desperation evident in his movements.
We step into the ancient ritual circle just as Viktor raises the blade for the final verse of his spell. The moment our feet touch the carved symbols, they ignite with silver-blue light—the temple recognizing its original purpose.
“No!” Viktor screams, but he’s already committed to his ritual, unable to stop without the backlash destroying him.
Kael and I join hands across the circle’s center, and I feel our incomplete bond surge toward something greater. We begin the counter-ritual, our voices joining in the ancient language that predates the Storm Eagles themselves.
“From sky to earth, from storm to healing,” Kael intones.
“From separation to unity, from conflict to harmony,” I continue.
Power builds between us—not the dark hunger of Viktor’s ritual, but something bright and clean. The incomplete mate bond strengthens with each word, drawing on our freely offered energy rather than stolen life force.
Viktor realizes his danger. “You cannot stop this! The power is already mine!” He brings the blade down in a vicious arc, aiming to shatter our circle.
But the blade meets our combined barrier—my healing energy woven with Kael’s storm magic. The collision creates a deafening crack. The ritual blade, designed to absorb life force taken by violence, cannot process the freely given power of our bond. It begins to vibrate violently, light bleeding through sudden cracks along its surface.
“It’s overloading,” I breathe, my scientific mind fascinated even in this moment of danger.
Cracks race across the blade’s surface, light bleeding through like a star about to go supernova. The corrupted magic bindsitself tighter to Viktor, his eyes widening in panic as he realizes the weapon is no longer under his control.
“Get down!” Kael shouts, pulling me close as the chamber shakes violently.
