Elara's POV
"Corrupted Guardians will kill everyone?" I stared at Kael. "And you still want to free them?"
"We have to." His voice was quiet but firm. "Would you want to stay imprisoned forever? Being drained? Suffering every single day?"
I looked at Zephyrion. Through the bond, I felt the answer before he spoke.
"Death is kinder than what they're enduring," he said flatly. "Trust me."
The celebration around us continued, but suddenly it felt wrong. These people were cheering for a plan that might get them all killed.
"We need to talk," I told Zephyrion. "Somewhere private."
Kael led us to a small room off the main chamber. Just stone walls, a table, and two chairs. Maren followed us inside and shut the door, blocking out the noise.
"Explain everything," I demanded, turning to Zephyrion. "From the beginning. What are Guardians? Why were you imprisoned? Why does everyone want to enslave you?"
Zephyrion leaned against the wall, his silver eyes distant. "Eight hundred years ago, the world was dying. Chaos storms—storms so powerful they could tear reality apart—threatened to destroy everything. Mortals couldn't stop them. They needed something stronger."
"You," I said quietly.
"Volunteers. Fifty warriors who loved the world enough to give up their humanity." His jaw tightened. "The transformation was supposed to be temporary. We'd hold back the chaos, save the realm, then return to normal life. But the magic that made us didn't come with an off switch."
"You were trapped."
"We became living weapons. Pure elemental power bound to mortal purpose. For two hundred years, we stood at the Tempest Veil, holding back the darkness. And during that time, Guardian-Callers emerged—humans with the gift to bond with us, to anchor our power, to keep us connected to humanity so we didn't lose ourselves completely."
"Partners," Maren said softly.
"Yes." Something like warmth flickered in Zephyrion's expression. "The bond was sacred. Freely chosen. Together, Guardians and Callers protected the realm as equals. We had purpose. Companionship. We weren't just weapons—we were people with people who cared about us."
"What changed?" I asked, though I could guess the answer.
"Greed." His voice went cold. "Six hundred years ago, a storm-caller named Mordain discovered how to force a bond. How to enslave Guardians and drain our essence to create artificial storm magic. He shared his discovery with other power-hungry nobles, and they began hunting us. One by one, Guardians were captured and imprisoned. Our power was stolen, divided among the elite families."
My stomach turned. "And the Guardian-Callers?"
"Murdered." Maren's voice cracked. "Every family with Caller blood was hunted down. Some were killed outright. Others—like yours, Elara—had their gifts sealed at birth. The Storm Court couldn't risk another generation of true bonds forming. If Guardians and Callers worked together again, we'd be powerful enough to overthrow them."
"My father knew." The words tasted like poison. "He knew what I was and he crushed it."
"The day you were born," Zephyrion said quietly. Through the bond, I felt his anger on my behalf. "They tested your blood, found Guardian-Caller markers, and sealed your magic immediately. Lord Thornwick personally supervised the spell."
I pressed my hands against the table, trying to breathe. Twenty-three years. Twenty-three years of being told I was worthless, powerless, nothing. And it was all a lie.
"He let me suffer," I whispered. "Every day. Every humiliation. He watched me break piece by piece, and he knew the whole time that I could have been—"
"Powerful," Zephyrion finished. "Dangerous to his stolen empire. He kept you weak on purpose, Elara. You were never the problem. They were."
Tears burned my eyes. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't give Father the satisfaction, even if he couldn't see.
"My grandmother was a Guardian-Caller," Maren said suddenly. "One of the last before the bloodlines were wiped out. She bonded with a Guardian named Sylas when she was seventeen. They fought together for ten years, protecting villages from rogue storms. Then the Court found them."
"What happened?" I asked.
"They killed Sylas first. Chained him and drained him dry while Grandmother watched. Then they offered her a choice—seal her own gift and live as a servant in the Hollows, or die with him." Maren's hands shook. "She chose to live. To remember. To pass down the truth to me before the Court could erase it completely."
"That's why you stayed with me," I realized. "Why you were my maid all these years."
"I saw the seal on you when you were fifteen. Recognized the spell-patterns." Maren met my eyes. "I stayed because I hoped someday you'd break free. That there'd be another true Caller in the world. Someone who could finish what my grandmother started."
"No pressure," I muttered.
Zephyrion's lips twitched. Almost a smile. "You're handling this better than expected."
"I'm handling this terribly." I stood up, pacing. "In three weeks, we're supposed to attack the Sky Citadel, free six corrupted Guardians who might kill us all, and somehow destroy the most powerful storm-callers alive. And I don't even know how to use my magic yet!"
"Then we start training tonight," Zephyrion said. "No more delays."
"Tonight? It's already past midnight!"
"Sleep is optional. Survival isn't." He pushed off the wall, power crackling around him. "Come on. Let's see what you're actually capable of."
We went deeper into the tunnels, to a chamber far from the others. The walls here were reinforced with Guardian wards so thick I could feel them pressing against my skin.
"This is the training room," Kael said, appearing behind us with a torch. "Built to contain Guardian-level power. Whatever happens in here won't leak out."
"Good." Zephyrion turned to me. "Hit me."
I blinked. "What?"
"Use your power. Try to hit me with lightning." He spread his arms wide. "Don't worry. You can't hurt me."
"I don't know how—"
"Feel the bond. Feel my power flowing through it. That's your power too now. Just grab it and throw it at me."
I closed my eyes, reaching for the connection between us. There—that river of electricity, ancient and vast. I touched it—
Pain exploded through my head. I screamed and stumbled backward.
"Too much, too fast," Zephyrion said calmly. "Try again. Smaller this time."
"That hurt!"
"It'll hurt less with practice. Again."
We tried for an hour. Every attempt ended with me on the floor, head pounding, power slipping through my fingers like water.
"I can't do this," I gasped. "It's too much. Too big."
"You're thinking like a human." Zephyrion crouched beside me. "Storm magic isn't about force. It's about flow. Stop trying to grab it. Just let it move through you."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Close your eyes." His hand touched my shoulder, and warmth flooded through the bond. "Feel your heartbeat. Now feel mine. They're synced because of the bond. That's what Guardian and Caller magic is—two heartbeats becoming one rhythm."
I focused on the double-pulse in my chest. His heart. My heart. Together.
The power came easier this time. Gentle. Like breathing instead of drowning.
I opened my eyes and lightning danced between my fingers. Small bolts, but real. Controlled.
"Good," Zephyrion said. "Now throw it."
I flicked my wrist and lightning shot across the room, hitting the far wall with a crack of thunder.
"I did it!" I laughed, giddy with success. "I actually—"
The wall exploded.
Not just cracked. Exploded. Stone and dust and rubble everywhere.
"Okay," Kael said into the silence. "So. That's more power than we expected."
Zephyrion stared at the destroyed wall, then at me, then back at the wall. Through the bond, I felt his shock.
"What?" I demanded. "What does that mean?"
"That wall was designed to withstand direct hits from mature Guardians." His voice was quiet. Dangerous quiet. "You just destroyed it with your first successful casting."
"Is that bad?"
"Elara." He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "How much magic do you feel inside you right now?"
I checked. The well of power inside me was still full. Like I hadn't used anything at all.
"All of it," I whispered. "It's all still there."
"That's impossible." Kael moved closer, eyes wide. "Magic depletes when you use it. It has to recharge. But you—"
"She's drawing from both herself and me simultaneously," Zephyrion said. His hands tightened on my shoulders. "A true bond doesn't just share power. It multiplies it."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means—" he paused, "—you're not just strong for a new Caller. You're strong enough to challenge the High Storm Caller himself."
The room went silent. Everyone staring at me.
"That's good, right?" My voice sounded small. "We need strong to win."
"It's also terrifying," Maren said quietly. "Because the moment the Storm Court realizes how powerful you are, they won't just try to capture you. They'll try to kill you immediately. You're an existential threat to their entire empire."
Through the bond, I felt Zephyrion's grim agreement.
"Then I become strong enough that they can't kill me," I said.
"Elara—"
A massive explosion rocked the tunnels. Dust rained from the ceiling. In the distance, people screamed.
Kael's face went white. "We're under attack."
We ran back to the main chamber to find chaos. Storm-callers were pouring in from multiple entrances, shooting lightning at the rebels. People fought back with whatever they had—stolen magic, weapons, desperation.
And standing at the largest entrance, surrounded by elite guards, was a man I'd never seen before. Tall and severe, with white hair and eyes like winter storms. Power radiated from him like heat from a fire.
"That's High Storm Caller Severin," Kael breathed. "He's here himself."
Severin's gaze swept the chamber until it landed on me. He smiled—cold and cruel.
"There you are," he called across the chaos. "The little Thornwick girl who broke her seal. Did you really think you could hide from me?" He raised one hand and six figures stumbled forward, chained and broken.
Guardians. Enslaved Guardians with corrupted marks burning on their skin.
"I brought friends," Severin said. "Let's see if your new pet can handle six of his brothers at once."