I steel myself against the criticism. “I propose targeted strikes on ground-dweller supply convoys—precise, strategic operations that maximize resource capture while minimizing casualties.”
“Minimize casualties?” Viktor’s voice cuts through the chamber as he strides in, uninvited. My lieutenant—once friend, now increasingly adversary—moves with aggressive confidence. His silver-streaked black hair and steel-gray eyes stand in stark contrast to the golden coloring most Storm Eagles possess. “Since when do we concern ourselves with ground-dweller lives?”
The room falls silent. Viktor has voiced what many think but few dare say aloud.
“Since we became intelligent enough to understand the difference between conquest and extermination,” I reply,keeping my voice level despite the lightning that threatens to crackle between my fingers. “We target supplies, not civilians.”
Zara steps forward, her diplomatic nature asserting itself. “My brother is right. The ground-dwellers outnumber us significantly. Direct confrontation plays to their strengths, not ours.”
Viktor’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps our leader has grown too fond of mercy. The Storm Eagles of old would have dominated through strength, not strategic restraint.”
“The Storm Eagles of old didn’t face extinction from resource depletion,” I counter. “Times have changed. Our tactics must change with them.”
A tense silence follows until Elder Talon taps his staff against the stone floor. “This council recognizes the leadership of Kael Stormwright. For now.” The qualification hangs heavy in the air. “Present your strategy for these… targeted strikes.”
I signal to Zara, who unfurls a map across the stone table. “I’ve identified key supply routes between Haven’s Heart and their northern settlements. Their convoys follow predictable schedules—a weakness we can exploit.”
For the next hour, I detail my plans for precision raids on specific convoy routes, showing which supplies we most urgently need and how we’ll distribute captured resources. Throughout my presentation, I feel Viktor’s calculating gaze. He no longer bothers to hide his ambition for leadership.
When the council adjourns, the elders file out with mixed expressions—some thoughtful, others skeptical. Viktor lingers, examining the maps I’ve marked with potential targets.
“Impressive planning,” he says, tracing a supply route with one finger. “Though I question the execution. These surgical strikes require perfect timing and coordination.”
“Which is why I’ll lead them personally,” I reply.
Viktor’s eyes narrow slightly. “As you wish, Stormwright. Just remember, our people follow strength. They respect power, not restraint.”
After he leaves, Zara moves to my side. “He’s gathering support among the traditionalists,” she warns quietly. “Be careful, brother.”
I fold the maps, buying time to control my expression. “Viktor’s ambitions are no secret. But he can’t challenge me without cause.”
“And cause can be manufactured,” she counters. “The clan is hungry and afraid. Hungry, afraid people make dangerous decisions.”
I meet her concerned gaze. In many ways, Zara has been my conscience since our parents died—thirteen years ago now, though the memory remains razor-sharp. Their deaths in territorial combat with northern bear shifters left me, at nineteen, suddenly responsible for an entire clan and a seven-year-old sister.
“I’ve led us through worse,” I remind her.
“Yes, but you’ve never had Viktor actively working against you before.” She squeezes my arm. “Don’t underestimate him, Kael. He believes those prophecies with his entire being—and believes he should be the one to fulfill them.”
I place my hand over hers. “I don’t have the luxury of political infighting. Our people need food, supplies, and medicine. That’s my priority.”
“Just promise you’ll watch your back during these raids,” she insists. “I don’t trust Viktor’s sudden interest in your battle plans.”
I nod, though my thoughts are already turning to the upcoming mission. “We strike at dusk. Make sure our best warriors are ready.”
Hours later,I stand on the launch platform with twenty of our finest aerial fighters. The sun has begun its descent behind the western peaks, casting long shadows across the valleys below. Perfect hunting conditions—the fading light will conceal our approach while giving us enough visibility to execute precision strikes.
I pace before my warriors, evaluating their readiness. Each has been selected for specific skills—some for speed, others for carrying capacity, all for absolute loyalty. These missions require perfect coordination and split-second timing.
“Tonight’s target is a major supply convoy moving from Haven’s Heart to their northern settlement,” I explain, my voice carrying across the platform. “Intelligence suggests it contains medical supplies, food stores, and weapons. We take what we need—nothing more, nothing less.”
I scan their faces, noting their resolve. “Remember our priorities: resource acquisition first, minimal engagement with guards second. We are not there to kill ground-dwellers. We are there to feed our people.”
Viktor steps forward, checking his weapons with meticulous attention. “And if they resist?”
“Disable, don’t destroy,” I answer firmly. “Every unnecessary death brings us closer to full-scale war—a war we cannot afford.”
He inclines his head in acknowledgment, though his eyes hold a challenge. I’ve placed him on this mission deliberately—better to have him where I can watch him than plotting behind my back.
