Elara's POV
My stomach was still in the sky when my feet hit solid ground.
I stumbled forward and threw up in the corner. Everything I'd eaten at the ball came back up, along with what felt like my entire soul.
"Teleportation affects mortals poorly," Zephyrion said behind me. He didn't sound sorry. "You'll adjust."
"I hate you," I gasped between heaves.
"You'll have to get in line."
When I finally stopped being sick, I looked around. We were in some kind of tower. Stone walls covered in moss. Broken windows letting in cold wind. The smell of salt and fish and rot.
"Where are we?"
"An abandoned lighthouse in the Hollows." Zephyrion stood by the window, looking out at the city below. "The magicless district. Storm-callers don't waste their time watching places with no power."
The Hollows. I'd heard about it my whole life—the slums where people without magic lived like animals. Father always said they deserved their poverty for being born weak.
Now I was one of them. Or at least, everyone thought I was dead.
The thought made my chest tight. "They think the lightning killed me."
"Better that way." Zephyrion turned to face me, his silver eyes unreadable. "Dead girls don't need to be hunted."
"But my father—my family—"
"Your father sealed your magic the day you were born." His voice cut like ice. "He knew what you were. What you could become. And he crushed it to protect his stolen power."
The words hit harder than any slap. "You're lying."
"I felt your memories through the bond. Every moment of your life, I saw." He stepped closer. "Every time he looked through you like you were invisible. Every time he told you that you were worthless. He did it on purpose, Elara. To keep you small. To keep you from ever discovering the truth."
"No." My voice broke. "He wouldn't—"
"He would. He did." Zephyrion crouched in front of me, forcing me to meet those hurricane eyes. "Guardian-Callers can bond with beings like me. Together, we're more powerful than any storm-caller who steals our essence. Your father's entire world is built on enslaving Guardians. If you'd awakened naturally, you would have destroyed everything he worked for."
I wanted to argue. To defend Father. But deep down, I knew Zephyrion was right.
Father never loved me. He feared me.
"I don't understand any of this," I whispered. "What even is a Guardian-Caller?"
Zephyrion sat down against the wall, looking tired for the first time since I'd met him. "Eight hundred years ago, Guardians and Callers worked together. We protected the realm from chaos storms that would have torn the world apart. The bond was sacred—freely chosen by both sides."
"What changed?"
"Greed." His jaw tightened. "Storm-callers discovered they could enslave us. Steal our power and use it for themselves. They hunted down every Guardian-Caller bloodline and either killed them or sealed their gifts. Like they did to you."
"The mark on my chest—"
"Is our bond. Unbreakable. Absolute." He touched his own mark, and I felt an echo of warmth in mine. "I can feel your emotions now. Your pain. Your fear. If you're hurt, I feel it. If you die—" he paused, "—the bond drags me back to the Tempest Veil. Back to my prison."
"So you're stuck with me."
"We're stuck with each other." Something almost like humor flickered in his eyes. "I have to protect you whether I want to or not. The bond compels it."
"And if you don't want to?"
"Doesn't matter what I want." His voice went hard again. "That's the curse of it. I'm bound to guard you, to keep you safe, to feel everything you feel. But I can never—" He stopped himself.
"Never what?"
"Love you." The words came out flat. Final. "Guardians who love mortals become monsters. Our power turns destructive. The storm itself sees the beloved as a threat and tries to eliminate them. It's the universe's way of keeping balance."
My heart squeezed. "That's horrible."
"That's necessary." But through the bond, I felt his grief. Old grief. Ancient grief that had been buried for centuries.
"You loved someone once," I said softly. "Before you became a Guardian."
His eyes snapped to mine, surprised. Then his expression shuttered. "That was another lifetime. Another person. That part of me died eight hundred years ago."
Before I could respond, he stood abruptly. "We need to establish rules. First—never use your power without my permission. You're untrained. You could kill yourself or expose us."
"I saved you with that power!"
"You got lucky." He moved to the window again. "Second—stay in this lighthouse. The Hollows are dangerous. Third—"
A knock at the door made us both freeze.
"Who knows we're here?" I whispered.
"No one." Zephyrion's whole body tensed. Lightning crackled around his fingers. "Stay behind me."
The knock came again. Louder.
"Miss Elara?" A familiar voice called through the door. "Miss Elara, please! I know you're in there!"
My heart stopped. "Maren?"
Zephyrion's hand shot out, stopping me from moving. "Who is Maren?"
"My maid. My friend. The only person who was ever kind to me." I pushed past him. "Let me—"
"It could be a trap."
"It's not! I know her voice!"
I ran to the door and threw it open.
Maren stood there, tears streaming down her face. Her brown hair was soaked with rain. Her simple dress was torn. And her eyes—her eyes looked terrified and relieved all at once.
"You're alive," she sobbed. "Oh gods, you're alive. I thought—when they said the lightning—I thought I'd lost you—"
She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her back, crying too.
"How did you find me?" I asked.
Maren pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I've been tracking you since you left the manor. I have—" she glanced at Zephyrion nervously, "—I have abilities the family doesn't know about. Minor tracking magic. Enough to follow your trail."
"You have magic?" I stared at her. "But you're from the Hollows. You said you were powerless."
"I lied." She stepped inside, keeping her distance from Zephyrion. "My grandmother was a Guardian-Caller. Before they were all hunted down. She taught me to hide what I am, to survive. When I saw you in House Thornwick—saw the seal on your power—I knew what you were. I've been waiting. Hoping you'd break free."
"You knew?" My voice cracked. "All these years, you knew?"
"I couldn't tell you. If anyone found out, we'd both be killed." Maren looked at Zephyrion. "But now you've bonded with a Guardian. Everything's changed. There are others like us, Elara. People who've been waiting for a true Caller to emerge. People who want to fight back against the Storm Court."
"A rebellion," Zephyrion said quietly.
"Yes." Maren's eyes hardened. "And they're ready to move. But they need you. Both of you."
Hope flickered in my chest. "We wouldn't be alone?"
"No. There's a whole network in the Hollows. Sealed Callers. Free Guardians who escaped. Even some storm-callers who defected when they learned the truth." She grabbed my hands. "You could change everything, Elara. You could free the enslaved Guardians. Break the Storm Court's power. Make them pay for what they did to us."
Make them pay. Make Father pay. Make Aldric and Cassian pay for humiliating me, for breaking me, for making me believe I was nothing.
"Yes," I breathed. "I want that."
"Elara—" Zephyrion's voice held a warning.
"No." I turned to face him, and for the first time since we'd met, I didn't feel small. "You said I'm powerful. That I'm dangerous. Then let me be dangerous. Let me use this power for something that matters."
He studied me with those ancient eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded. "If we do this, you train every day. No exceptions. You learn control before you learn destruction."
"Agreed."
Maren smiled—the first real smile I'd seen since everything fell apart. "There's someone you need to meet. The leader of our network. He's been searching for a bonded pair for years."
"Who is he?" I asked.
"His name is Kael Stormwind. He's a rogue storm-caller who defected from the Court. And—" she glanced at Zephyrion, "—he claims to have memories of you. From eight hundred years ago."
Zephyrion went completely still. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Maren asked. "His bloodline carries fragments of memory from his ancestor. An ancestor who was your human friend before you transformed. He says you made him a promise. That if you ever escaped, he—or his descendants—would help you."
Through the bond, I felt Zephyrion's shock. His disbelief. His desperate hope.
"Kael," he whispered. "His name was Kael."
"Still is." Maren moved toward the door. "He's waiting at the safe house. Will you come?"
I looked at Zephyrion. At this ancient being who'd been alone for eight centuries, who'd forgotten what friendship felt like.
"We'll come," I said.
Maren opened the door—
And froze.
Standing in the hallway was a man with a knife to her throat.
"Found you," Duke Aldric said, stepping out of the shadows with five more storm-callers behind him. His smile was cruel. "Did you really think you could hide from me, Elara? I own this city. Every rat in the Hollows reports to me."
Maren's eyes went wide with terror.
"Let her go," I said.
"No, I don't think I will." Aldric pressed the knife harder, and blood trickled down Maren's neck. "Here's what's going to happen. The Guardian severs your bond. Right now. Or I kill your little maid slowly while you watch."
Zephyrion stepped forward, power crackling around him. "Release her or die."
"One step closer and she's dead." Aldric's eyes were cold. "Your choice, monster. Save the Caller or save the servant. You can't do both."