“Anything.”
“If this healer of yours turns out to be our enemy, don’t let them take me alive.” Her golden eyes, so like our mother’s, hold mine with fierce intensity. “I won’t become a specimen in their laboratories.”
The request sends ice through my veins, but I understand it. I would ask the same in her position.
“It won’t come to that,” I promise. “But if it does… You have my word.”
We spend the remaining daylight hours in tense waiting. I dress Zara’s wounds again, administer pain-relieving herbs, and watch as she drifts in and out of consciousness. Her condition is deteriorating faster than I anticipated. By the time dusk falls, her skin burns with fever, and her breathing has grown shallow.
I gather her in my arms, cradling her against my chest. She feels smaller than I remember, fragile in a way that contradicts everything I know about my fierce, independent sister.
“Stay with me,” I murmur as I carry her to the cave entrance. The sky has darkened to deep indigo, stars appearing in the eastern quadrant. Perfect conditions for an approach from above—dark enough to conceal our movement, but with enough starlight to navigate.
Shifting with an injured passenger is one of the most challenging techniques in Storm Eagle training. It requires perfect control of the transformation, maintaining human consciousness while eagle instincts scream to reject the unnatural burden. I’ve practiced it, but never under these conditions, never with stakes so high.
I close my eyes, concentrating on the partial shift—human body, eagle wings. Pain lances across my back as massive golden wings erupt from my shoulder blades, tearing through skin andmuscle before extending to their full span. I stagger under the conflicting anatomies, forcing my body to stabilize in this hybrid form.
With Zara secure in my arms, I step to the edge of the ledge. The settlement lies miles away, across territory now potentially hostile with wolf-human patrols. One mistake, one moment of weakness, and we both fall to our deaths.
“For our parents,” I whisper, invoking the memory that has guided me since I became leader. “For our people.”
I leap into the darkness, wings catching the night air with a powerful downstroke. Zara moans softly as the movement jostles her wounds, but doesn’t wake. Perhaps that’s a blessing.
The journey passes in a blur of pain and determination. My hybrid form burns energy at an unsustainable rate, muscles screaming as I force them to perform beyond their limits. Twice, I must land, collapsing onto hidden ledges to recover strength before continuing. Twice, I check Zara’s pulse, finding it weaker each time.
Finally, the lights of the settlement appear in the distance—a constellation of artificial stars spread across the valley floor. I circle high above, scanning for the medical facility I observed during our raids. There—a large structure set apart from the main settlement, illuminated with bright lights even at this late hour.
I spiral lower, watching for guards, defense systems, anything that might prevent our approach. The settlement’s perimeter bristles with weaponry, but the medical facility sits slightly apart, its security more focused on ground approaches than aerial threats.
Landing without being seen requires precision I can barely muster in my exhausted state. I select a shadowed area behind the facility, near what appears to be a service entrance. With a final, painful effort, I angle my descent into the darkness.
My landing is anything but graceful. My legs buckle as I touch down, nearly sending Zara tumbling from my arms. I manage to cradle her against my chest, absorbing the impact with my shoulder instead. An involuntary cry escapes me as I collapse against the wall of the building, wings dissolving back into my human form in a shower of golden light.
For several breaths, I simply kneel there, cradling Zara and fighting unconsciousness. Her breathing has grown so shallow I can barely detect it. Her skin burns against mine, fever raging through her system.
I’ve run out of time. Out of options.
Just as I begin to fear I’ve made a fatal miscalculation, I place my palm against the lock, channeling a focused charge through the metal. The lock mechanism heats and shatters with a muted crack.
The door swings open silently. I step inside with Zara in my arms, following the scent that led me here—her scent, the healer from the raid.
I find her in the main treatment area, alone, working at her station. She hasn’t heard me enter.
“Help her,” I croak, my voice rough with exhaustion. “Please.”
She spins toward me, nearly dropping the vial in her hand. I recognize her instantly. The healer from the raid. The woman whose eyes met mine across the battlefield. Her scent confirms what my eyes tell me—this is her, the one who called to something deep within me.
She hasn’t seen me yet, as I am still cloaked in darkness. I step forward from the shadows, Zara cradled against my chest.
“Help her,” I repeat my heartfelt plea.
The healer’s eyes widen in shock, fear, then recognition. She sees me—truly sees me—as she did during the raid. Butthis time, there’s more. Her gaze drops to Zara’s broken form, professional assessment overtaking her initial alarm.
“Bring her to the lab,” she says after a heartbeat of decision. “Quickly.”
I follow her deeper into the building, crossing the threshold that separates our worlds. Everything I am—leader, warrior, Storm Eagle—falls away in this moment. I am simply a brother desperate to save his sister, placing her life in the hands of someone who should be my enemy.
The healer—Elena, I hear someone call her as we pass through the corridor—leads me to a secluded treatment room, away from the main facility.
