Page 51 of Fire's Storm
In other words, we're not prisoners, but we're not free either.
The dragons who had begun to accept my presence now draw back. Their eyes follow me with renewed wariness. Mothers pull younglings closer. Guards track my movements. The fragile progress we'd made—shattered in one catastrophic moment.
Vulcan's shoulders slump slightly, a gesture so contrary to his usual confident stance that it sends a pang through my chest. His certainty slams into my mind—history is merely repeating itself—exile, rejection, confirmation of his status as dangerous and unworthy.
No, I project fiercely toward him.This isn't over. This isn't defeat. This is just the beginning of the fight.
His doubt flows back to me, but beneath it, I detect something else—a flicker of hope, faint but present. That's enough. It has to be enough.
In our private quarters, I pace the floor, running my hands through my hair. Static electricity makes the copper strands stand on end, crackling with my frustration.
"Something interfered with our connection," I state with absolute certainty, refusing to accept Vulcan's resignation as he sits on our bed, head bowed with uncharacteristic defeat. "I felt our bond fracture right before the crystals destabilized."
He doesn't look up. "The result remains the same. Destruction. Danger. Exactly what they've always said about me."
I stop pacing and kneel before him, taking his hands despite the electrical current that still sparks erratically between us. Our connection is damaged but not destroyed, injured but not broken, harmed but not severed by whatever disrupted our harmonic frequency.
"Think like an investigator, not a victim," I urge. "What exactly did you feel in that moment?"
Vulcan raises his storm-gray eyes to meet mine—the first direct contact since the disastrous incident. The electric blue has dimmed, clouded by shame and confusion.
"Dissonance," he answers slowly, his analytical mind engaging despite emotional turmoil. "Like our frequencies suddenly misaligned. Like something deliberately targeted our bond's specific resonance."
I nod, seizing on this thread of evidence. "Exactly. One moment, we were in perfect harmony, creating that miniature aurora display that had everyone mesmerized. The next moment—cacophony. Not gradual loss of control. Sudden, complete disruption."
He frowns, memory clarifying as he focuses on the technical aspects rather than the emotional impact. "The harmonic pattern shattered into dissonant frequencies. I tried to stabilize, but it was like trying to catch mercury with bare hands."
"And I couldn't reach you," I add, remembering the terrifying sensation of our connection suddenly muffled, as if something had inserted itself between us. "Not because the bond broke, but because something was interfering with it."
A spark of his old intensity flickers in his eyes. "You think we were sabotaged."
"I know we were." I rise to my feet, energy coursing through me with renewed purpose. "And I'm going to prove it."
"How?" His voice carries both doubt and hope in equal measure. "We have suspicions but no evidence. Accusations without proof would only make us appear desperate."
I smile grimly. "Then we'll find the evidence. I've investigated enough incidents to know that sabotage always leaves traces—even supernatural sabotage."
Vulcan stands, his towering frame straightening as purpose begins to replace defeat. "Where do we start?"
"The scene of the crime," I answer. "The grand cavern. There will be physical evidence of whatever method they used to disrupt our bond."
His eyes flash with sudden realization. "And I can access the sanctuary's sensory archives. Every major gathering is recorded through crystalline resonance patterns."
"Perfect." I squeeze his hands, ignoring the sharp jolt of electricity that jumps between us. "You review the records. I'll examine the physical evidence. We'll approach this methodically, just like any investigation."
For the first time since the disaster, I see a genuine smile curve his lips. "You are... remarkable, Phoenix Ward."
"No," I counter, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his mouth. "Weare remarkable. And we're going to prove it."
The grand cavern still bears the scars of our apparent loss of control. I stand amid restoration crews—sanctuary staff clearing crystal debris, clan members repairing structural damage,workers reconstructing ceremonial fixtures while whispers follow my human presence with new suspicion.
I ignore their wary glances and focus on the task at hand. Years of investigating fire scenes guide my systematic approach as I examine the destruction pattern.
I crouch down, examining crystal fragments that haven't yet been cleared away. My fingers brush over their surfaces, noting unusual fracture patterns that catch the light in ways that seem... wrong.
"These didn't break from power overload," I murmur, examining edge patterns. "They shattered from harmonic disruption—deliberate frequency targeting rather than random energy discharge."
Nearby workers maintain cautious distance. A female with copper scales who had invited me to a communal meal just last week now watches me like I might explode at any moment. A male who had asked respectful questions about human firefighting techniques now positions himself between me and a group of younglings.
