Page 50 of Fire's Storm
And yet...
The crystal catches the light strangely, patterns shifting within its structure as he turns it in his clawed hand. In certainangles, the energy flow appears to move in directions contrary to accepted understanding.
What if they've misunderstood the evidence?
What if correlation isn't causation?
What if the elemental bonds were attempting to prevent destruction rather than causing it?
The thought sends an unexpected chill through his system. Obsidian scales ripple across his skin as he confronts the unthinkable—what if they're wrong?
"No," he says aloud, voice harsh in the silent chamber. The crystal drops from suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering on the stone floor without breaking. "The evidence is clear. The danger is real. Our purpose is protection despite necessary deception."
The familiar mantra soothes his momentary uncertainty. He is not a villain—he is a patriot. The conviction has carried him this far; it will sustain him further.
Still, as he finally settles onto his sleeping platform, the unwelcome thought follows him toward uneasy dreams—what if their protection becomes destruction through misguided conviction?
The doubt is a tiny seed, easily crushed beneath the weight of his certainty. Yet seeds, once planted, have a way of taking root in even the most hostile soil.
When dream takes him, he sees not The Sundering as he expects, but a new catastrophe—one bearing his own obsidian signature, his own yellow eyes staring back from apocalyptic flame.
NINE
PHOENIX
Acold anger settles in my gut as I stand beside Vulcan in the council chamber. The formal hearing convened after the Solstice Gathering disaster has drawn every political faction in the clan, all assembled like vultures to determine who will bear responsibility for the catastrophe.
The evidence of destruction remains fresh, impossible to ignore. Crystal shards still litter sections of the grand cavern. Electrical scorch marks scar the ornate walls throughout the sanctuary. And everywhere, frightened whispers follow us despite days passing since the incident.
I study the gathered council, noting each faction's position and demeanor. Metu's carefully neutral expression can't quite hide the triumphant gleam in his yellow eyes. Elder Khorne maintains a formal posture that masks subtle satisfaction. Sarla's stance isn't one of concern but of predatory victory.
They planned this. Orchestrated it.The realization hits me with startling clarity.This wasn't an accident. This was an attack.
"Unstable power demonstrated uncontrolled danger," Metu declares to the assembled witnesses, his scales rippling beneath ceremonial robes as he addresses the emergency session."The Tempest Bond exhibited inherent volatility regardless of temporary harmony."
Vulcan tenses beside me. Shame and confusion cascade from him to me. His guilt and self-blame flood my mind, though I know he's innocent.
Something isn't right, I push the thought toward him.That wasn't a natural failure. That was engineered.
His doubt presses back against my certainty, a tangible force against my mind. The destruction had been real. The loss of control had been real. The terror on the faces of clan members when our combined power shattered ancient crystals and sent lightning arcing wildly through the gathering—that had been horrifyingly real.
Clan leader Blaze sits at the center of the council table, his golden eyes revealing nothing as Metu continues his methodical character assassination. Behind him, Raak stands like a statue, only the occasional ripple of silver scales betraying his anger.
"The incident confirms what traditionalists have maintained from the beginning," Metu continues, his voice carrying just the right note of regret to mask his satisfaction. "Human-dragon bonds inherently destabilize our carefully balanced energy systems. The volatile nature of the Tempest Bond in particular presents unacceptable risk to sanctuary security."
I meet his gaze directly, refusing to show submission. My spine stiffens. Heat floods my cheeks. Electricity pulses just beneath my skin, wanting release. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms to keep control. The outsider who confirmed their worst fears. The human who brought chaos into their sanctuary.
Fuck that.
"What exactly are you proposing, Metu?" Blaze asks, his voice neutral but carrying undeniable authority.
Metu inclines his head with false deference. "For the safety of all, the Tempest pair must be restricted to the outer territoriesuntil they can demonstrate—if they can demonstrate—reliable control. Additionally, all progression toward awakening further bonds should be halted pending full investigation of the inherent instabilities revealed by this incident."
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. The outer territories—Vulcan's place of exile. The political strategy is clear. They can't officially reject the bond now that it's formed, but they can isolate us, marginalize us, and prevent further progress.
Anger pulses from Vulcan to me—a flash of heat that makes the air around us waver momentarily. I place my hand on his arm, feeling the electrical current jumping between us. Our connection still flickers erratically after whatever happened at the Solstice Gathering.
"The council will deliberate," Blaze announces, rising to his feet with fluid grace that belies the tension evident in his posture. "Until a decision is rendered, Phoenix Ward and Vulcan Aetherion will maintain their current residence under protective observation."
