Kieran's POV
The first thing I feel in a thousand years—really feel, not just endless torture—is her heartbeat.
Steady. Strong. Alive.
What have I done?
I'm inside her chest, wound into the rhythm of her heart, and I can feel EVERYTHING. Her pain from broken ribs. Her exhaustion. Her terror at having a stranger suddenly occupying her body.
And beneath all that—her stubborn, burning refusal to give up.
She's remarkable, I think, before I can stop myself.
I can hear you, her mental voice snaps back. And I'm not remarkable. I'm trapped with a parasite.
"Parasite?" I manifest beside her, letting my lightning-form take shape. "I prefer 'unwilling passenger.'"
She jumps, spinning to face me. Even exhausted and broken, she moves into a defensive stance. Training from her old life, probably. Useless now without her magic, but the instinct remains.
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she gasps.
"I can't sneak up on you. I'm literally inside your heartbeat." I gesture at the lightning threads connecting my form to her chest. "Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you feel, I feel."
"This is a nightmare."
"For both of us." I float closer, studying her properly for the first time. She's young—maybe twenty-four? Her dark hair is matted with ash, her blue dress torn and bloodstained. The binding scars on her arms are still raw and angry.
But her eyes are what catch me. Storm-blue and fierce, even now. Even broken and powerless, she hasn't given up.
She reminds me of Elena, I think before I can stop myself.
Celeste flinches. "Who's Elena? And stop broadcasting your thoughts!"
"I'm not—" I pause, frustrated. "The bond goes both ways, remember? You're picking up my surface thoughts just like I'm picking up yours."
"Then think quieter!"
"That's not how thinking works!"
We glare at each other. Then, despite everything, I almost laugh. Here I am—Prince of the Lightning Throne, survivor of a thousand years of torture—arguing with a powerless Storm-Caller about mental volume control.
The absurdity is overwhelming.
"What's funny?" Celeste demands.
"Nothing. Everything." I drift back slightly. "I spent a millennium in agony, dreaming of freedom. And now that I have it, I'm trapped in someone else's heartbeat, arguing about thoughts."
Her expression softens slightly. Just slightly. "Elena was someone you loved."
It's not a question. She pulled it from my thoughts.
"My sister," I admit quietly. "She died in the massacre. She was sixteen."
Celeste's anger fades completely, replaced by sympathy I can feel through the bond. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was a thousand years ago." But my voice cracks anyway. A thousand years, and the pain is still fresh. Time doesn't heal when you're conscious through every second of it.
We start walking again toward the distant camp. The silence between us is less hostile now. More... understanding.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Celeste asks quietly. "The night they betrayed you?"
I should refuse. The memories are agony. But she freed me from the storms. She deserves the truth.
"The Sky Lords invited us to a peace summit," I begin, the words tasting like ash. "My father, mother, Elena, and me. They said they wanted to unite our kingdoms, share power peacefully. We were naive enough to believe them."
Through the bond, I feel Celeste's growing horror as I share the memory—not just telling her, but letting her experience it through our connection.
The grand hall filled with Sky Lords, all smiling and welcoming. Wine flowing. Music playing. My father making a toast to peace.
Then the doors slamming shut.
High Priestess Serath—younger then, but already ancient and cruel—stepping forward with dark magic crackling in her hands.
"Kill them all," she commanded. "Leave none alive."
Celeste gasps, pulled back to the present. "Serath was there? She's that old?"
"She used blood magic to extend her life. She wanted to personally hunt down every Lightning-Blessed descendant." My form flickers with rage. "She killed my mother first. Then my father. Elena tried to run, and they cut her down like she was nothing."
"And you?"
"They saved me for last." The memory is fire and ice in my chest. "Serath said my soul was too powerful to simply kill. So they created a new torture—a spell that shattered my soul into fragments and sealed each piece into different lightning storms. Conscious. Aware. Unable to die or escape. Just... endless agony."
I can feel Celeste's horror through the bond. Her sympathy. Her rage on my behalf.
"That's the most evil thing I've ever heard," she whispers.
"Welcome to the Radiant Court." My voice is bitter. "They built their empire on genocide and torture. And they've been hunting down every last Lightning-Blessed descendant for a thousand years to make sure the truth never comes out."
"Not every descendant." Celeste touches her chest. "I have Lightning-Blessed blood. That's why the seal recognized me."
"Distant blood," I correct. "Diluted through generations of mixing with other magical lines. But yes—enough that the seal reacted." I study her curiously. "Did you know before today?"
"No." She looks shaken. "I thought I was just Storm-Caller. Pure weather magic. But when I touched that seal, something woke up inside me. Something that felt... familiar."
"Your Lightning-Blessed heritage." I drift closer. "That's probably why they were so eager to destroy you. You weren't just discovering their lies—you were proof those lies could be exposed."
Celeste stops walking. "Aldric knew. When I told him I found the documents, he knew what I was. That's why he moved so fast to strip me and throw me away."
"He's hunting any remaining descendants." Through the bond, I access more of her recent memories. "The child Riven refused to kill—that was systematic elimination. Serath won't rest until every trace of Lightning-Blessed blood is erased."
"Except now she has a problem." Celeste's smile is sharp and dangerous. "Because I just freed the one person who can testify to everything. The one survivor who knows exactly what they did."
"I'm not exactly in a position to testify." I gesture at my semi-transparent form. "I'm a ghost bound to your heartbeat. Half the kingdom will think you're insane for claiming I exist."
"Then we make them believe." She starts walking again, faster now. "You can manifest physically, right? Control lightning?"
"I... think so?" I concentrate, trying to call lightning like I used to. A small bolt crackles between my hands. "It's harder than before. My power is fragmented, filtered through your heartbeat."
"But it works."
"Barely."
"Barely is better than nothing." She's planning something. I can feel her thoughts racing through the bond. "If we work together—really together, not fighting each other—we might be dangerous enough to—"
She cuts off suddenly, stumbling.
I feel it through the bond a second before she does—exhaustion so complete her body is shutting down. She hasn't slept properly in days. Her injuries are severe. And the strain of forming our bond has drained what little strength she had left.
"Celeste—" I start to warn her.
Too late. Her legs give out.
I react instinctively, using her body's lightning reflexes to catch her before she hits the ground. But I'm not solid enough. We both collapse into the ash.
"Let me control your body," I urge. "Just until we reach camp. You're too weak."
"No." Even barely conscious, she's stubborn. "My body. My rules."
"You're going to die from sheer stubbornness!"
"Better than being... possessed..."
Her eyes close. Her heartbeat slows.
And I feel something terrifying through the bond—if she falls unconscious, if her heartbeat weakens too much, I start to fragment again. I can feel the edges of my soul beginning to fray.
"No, no, NO!" I manifest fully, using every bit of power I have left to keep both of us stable. "Celeste! Stay awake! If you fall unconscious now, we both die!"
Her eyes flutter open briefly. "Can't... help it..."
"Then let me help!" I'm begging now, desperate. "Let me use your body to get us to safety. Please. I promise I'll give control back. I swear it."
She's fading fast. But through the bond, I feel her make a decision—trust. She's choosing to trust me.
Her mental walls lower, just slightly.
I take control immediately, puppeting her body to stand. It feels wrong—moving someone else's limbs, seeing through someone else's eyes. But I do it anyway, running toward the distant camp with speed her injured body shouldn't be capable of.
The exiles see us coming. Riven rushes forward, sword drawn.
"What happened?" he demands. "Why are you moving like—" He stops, seeing my lightning-form hovering over Celeste's body. "By the storms. You actually found something in there."
"She freed me." I use Celeste's voice but my own cadence. "And now we're bound together. She needs rest. Immediately."
Riven's eyes narrow. "You're controlling her body."
"With permission." I meet his gaze steadily. "And I'll return control the moment she's safe."
"If you're lying—"
"Then you can kill us both." I gesture at the threads connecting me to Celeste's heart. "I literally can't exist without her. Hurting her hurts me."
Riven studies us for a long moment. Then nods. "This way. Quickly."
He leads us to his shelter. I lay Celeste's body down carefully on the rough bench, then immediately release my control over her limbs.
She doesn't wake up.
"Is she...?" Riven asks.
"Alive." I can feel her heartbeat still strong. "Just exhausted. She'll wake when her body is ready."
"And you are?"
"Kieran Stormborne. Last Prince of the Lightning Throne." I let that sink in. "The one they thought they destroyed a thousand years ago."
Riven's face goes pale. "The legends are real."
"Every word." I float beside Celeste's unconscious form, my lightning threads pulsing with her heartbeat. "And now that I'm free, the Radiant Court will stop at nothing to seal me away again. Or kill us both trying."
"Us?"
I gesture at the bond connecting me to Celeste. "We're stuck together. Two souls, one heartbeat. Her life is mine. My existence is hers."
"That's..." Riven searches for words. "That's impossible."
"Tell me about it." I watch Celeste's face, peaceful in sleep. Through the bond, I can feel her dreams—confused, fragmented, but not nightmares. Just exhaustion.
"So what happens now?" Riven asks.
"Now?" I meet his eyes, and let him see the thousand years of rage burning in mine. "Now we prepare for war. Because the people who destroyed my kingdom and tortured me for a millennium are about to learn something important."
"What's that?"
My smile is all lightning and fury. "That some prisons can't hold forever. And revenge tastes sweeter after a thousand years of waiting."
Outside, thunder rolls across the Cinderfalls.
And in the distance, lightning flashes in patterns that spell out a name the Radiant Court thought they'd erased:
STORMBORNE