“What does the mate bond feel like to you?” I ask suddenly, surprising myself with the directness of the question.
Elena looks up, clearly startled. We’ve carefully avoided discussing this aspect of our connection, focusing instead on the scientific and cultural exchanges that give our meetings a veneer of pragmatic purpose.
“It’s…” she pauses, searching for words. “A constant awareness. Like gravity pulling toward you. Sometimes subtle, sometimes overwhelming.”
“Yes,” I agree, relieved by her honesty. “For me as well.”
She sets down her equipment, moving to sit across from me. The lantern casts her face in gentle light, revealing an expression of careful consideration.
“In my research,” she says slowly, “I’ve found references to storm-touched humans throughout history. They were rare, but they existed—often as bridges between different shifter territories.”
“Our histories mention them too,” I admit. “Though many of those texts have been… selectively interpreted by elders like Viktor.”
“The data I’ve gathered from your blood samples suggests the Storm Eagles weren’t always isolated,” she continues. “Thereare genetic markers indicating extensive interaction with other shifter types, and even with storm-touched humans.”
This aligns with my own recent discoveries in the ancient texts—revelations that challenge everything Viktor and the traditionalists preach about Storm Eagle purity.
“Viktor would call that contamination,” I say bitterly. “He believes isolation preserved our power.”
“But your people are struggling,” Elena points out. “The resource shortages, the dwindling territories—these aren’t just consequences of external pressure. Your genetic research must show the same patterns I’m seeing.”
I nod reluctantly. “Our healers have documented increasing difficulties with each generation. Fewer children are born. More developmental challenges. Harder to maintain eagle form for extended periods.”
“Classic signs of genetic isolation,” Elena says. “Without diversity, bloodlines weaken. It’s basic biology.”
“And yet we’re taught that our blood must remain pure to maintain our connection to the storm.”
Elena’s eyes flash with intellectual fire. “That’s scientifically unsound. My analysis shows the opposite—storm magic expression is actually enhanced by certain genetic combinations. The mate bond between us is proof of that. When our energies interact, both become stronger.”
I can’t argue with her logic, nor with what I’ve experienced myself. Since our connection began, my storm magic has grown more precise, more controlled. I can manipulate lightning in ways I never could before.
“Viktor would never accept this,” I say. “Too many of our people have invested too heavily in the myth of Storm Eagle superiority.”
“People cling to comforting lies over uncomfortable truths,” Elena replies. “Haven’s Heart is no different. They refuse toacknowledge that cooperation with shifter territories might be more beneficial than conquest.”
The parallels between our situations strike me anew. Both leaders in our own way, both questioning the orthodoxies of our people, both seeking a better path forward.
Lightning flickers in the distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder. A real storm approaches, not just the magic I control. Elena glances up at the darkening sky.
“We should finish before the rain starts,” she says, returning to her equipment.
But I find myself unwilling to resume our scientific exchange. Something more pressing demands expression.
“I can’t stay away from you,” I admit, the words escaping before I can reconsider them. “I’ve tried. I’ve told myself these meetings are necessary for strategic reasons, for gathering information that will help my clan. But the truth is, I come because I have to see you.”
Her hands still over her equipment, but she doesn’t look up. “I know,” she says softly. “I feel it too.”
“This is impossible,” I continue, frustration bleeding into my voice. “You know what I am, what I’ve done. Your people consider me their enemy. Mine would exile me for what I’m feeling.”
“And yet here we are.” She finally meets my gaze, her brown eyes reflecting the storm building both outside and between us. “Despite everything that says we shouldn’t be.”
I move closer, drawn by the pull that grows stronger every time we meet. “What are we doing, Elena?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “All my life, I’ve analyzed, calculated, and made decisions based on data and reason. But this…” She gestures between us. “This defies rational explanation.”
“It’s the mate bond.”
“It’s more than that,” she counters. “The bond may have created the initial connection, but everything since has been choice. I choose to meet you. I choose to help Zara. I choose to risk my career, my standing, possibly my life to understand what’s happening between us.”
