The shrine shuddered beneath the general's weight as it prowled across the broken roof. Its horns scraped the ceiling, its claws gouging furrows through old stone. The pack of hounds circled outside, their red eyes gleaming like embers in the storm.
Arya's chest heaved. He could barely stand, his body drained from the lightning he had already unleashed. Yet the whispers inside him did not relent. Bind. Hold. Do not break.
The horned general dropped to the floor in a thunder of cracking stone. Smoke curled from its jaws, the heat of its breath steaming in the frozen air. It fixed Arya with burning eyes, then lunged.
Arya flung up his hand. Lightning erupted, striking the beast square in the chest. The blast staggered it, sparks showering across the shrine—but it did not fall. It roared, shaking itself as though to mock his effort.
Mira darted forward, staff in both hands. She swung hard, smashing the beast's leg. The strike echoed like a drum, but the general barely flinched. Its massive claw swept back, clipping her side and hurling her across the stones. She rolled, coughing, but forced herself up again, staff gripped tight.
"Yeshe!" Arya cried. "It won't stop!"
The monk's reply cut through the chaos, sharp and unwavering. "You are using it wrong. The storm is not only a hammer."
Arya blinked, confused, chest burning with fear. "Then what—?"
"Picture chains," Yeshe commanded. Her voice cracked like a whip. "Not to break, but to bind."
The general roared and lunged again, jaws wide. Arya clenched his fists, closing his eyes for half a heartbeat. He imagined the lightning not as a spear but as a coil, winding, wrapping. Energy surged through him, burning hot but not outward. He thrust his hand forward.
A bolt erupted—but instead of piercing the beast, it split into glowing bands. The light coiled around the general's front leg, tightening like a chain. The beast stumbled, snarling, snapping its jaws in fury.
"Again!" Yeshe shouted.
Arya's mark blazed. Another chain snapped outward, binding the beast's other leg. Sparks flew as the creature fought, muscles straining against the glowing links. Its roar shook the broken shrine, but the chains held.
Mira seized the opening. She rushed in, staff cracking against its ribs again and again. Each blow forced the general lower, though it thrashed with terrifying strength.
Arya gritted his teeth, pouring more of the storm into his grip. Sweat streamed down his face. His arms shook with the strain. The whispers in his skull screamed louder. Hold. Hold. Do not let go.
The general twisted violently. One of the chains snapped, bursting into sparks. It lunged, nearly tearing free, but Arya cried out and summoned another, wrapping its horns this time. Lightning laced around its head, dragging it down. The beast shrieked, smoke bursting from its mouth in choking waves.
The effort tore through Arya like fire. His vision blurred. His knees buckled, but he refused to let go.
"You are not its prey!" Yeshe thundered. Her cane struck the stone with a crack. "You are its gaoler. Prove it!"
Arya screamed, every muscle burning. Lightning poured from him in a storm of links, wrapping the beast in a web of glowing chains. They seared into its hide, forcing it flat against the ground.
The general howled, the sound carrying across the mountains. The pack outside faltered, their snarls breaking into uneasy whines. One by one they turned and fled into the snow, abandoning their master.
At last the beast gave a final shriek. Its body dissolved into smoke, chains snapping one by one as it scattered into the night. The last echo of its roar faded into silence.
Arya collapsed to his knees. His chest heaved as if he had run for days. His hand smoked faintly, the mark dimming after its fury.
Mira stumbled toward him, bruised but standing. She dropped beside him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. "You did it. You held it."
Arya shook his head, still gasping. "I… nearly lost it."
"Yes," Yeshe said, her face unreadable in the firelight. "And yet you did not. Remember this—sometimes the storm destroys. Sometimes it binds. You must learn both, or it will master you instead."
Arya lowered his head, staring at his trembling hands. The chains still glimmered faintly in his mind's eye. For the first time, he realized the storm wasn't just power. It was choice.
Outside, the valley had gone eerily silent. The snow lay scattered with ash and claw marks, but no more eyes gleamed in the dark. For tonight, at least, they were safe.
Arya drew a long, ragged breath. His chest still burned, but beneath it was something new. Not victory, not relief—responsibility.
And he wasn't sure which frightened him more.