Aelindra's POV
"You're insane."
Miri said it flatly, without anger, like she was just stating an obvious fact. Like I'd announced I planned to fly by flapping my arms really hard.
"Probably," I agreed, staring at the ancient map I'd stolen from a street vendor. "But I'm doing it anyway."
The Tempest Spire rose on the map like a finger pointing at the sky—the tallest structure in all of Stormhaven, built by the Storm Kings centuries ago. According to legend, it was where they'd performed the coronation rituals, where lightning struck strongest during major storms.
Where I was going to either gain enough power to destroy my enemies or die trying.
Honestly, at this point, either option sounded fine.
"Lyn, listen to yourself!" Miri grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "The Crimson Storm kills everyone who's caught in it. That's why they're evacuating entire districts! That's why people are boarding up their homes and hiding in the deepest shelters they can find!"
"I know."
"And you want to climb to the highest point in the realm and stand there while the deadliest lightning in history strikes all around you?"
"Not around me." I met her eyes. "I want it to strike me."
Miri let go like I'd burned her. "That's suicide."
"No, it's the only chance I have." I pointed at my reflection in a shard of broken glass—at my eyes that still glowed faintly with gold and silver. "Whatever's waking up inside me, it's connected to the storms. I can feel it pulling at me, Miri. Like the lightning is calling my name. And that voice in my head—the one that told me about the prince—it's getting stronger."
"What if it's lying? What if it's some kind of dark magic trying to trick you into killing yourself?"
"Then I die. But at least I die fighting instead of hiding in the shadows while Seraphine and Cassiel live happily ever after on the throne they built from my corpse."
The words hung in the air between us.
Miri's face crumpled. "I don't want to lose you."
"You already lost the person I used to be." I squeezed her hand gently. "That girl who trusted everyone and believed in fairness and justice? She died when she fell from the Citadel. What's left is someone who has nothing to lose and everything to gain."
"That's not true. You still have me."
"Which is why you're staying here, in the deepest shelter you can find, where you'll be safe."
"Absolutely not! If you're doing this insane thing, I'm coming with—"
"No." My voice came out harder than I intended. "Miri, you're the only person in this entire cursed realm who still believes in me. If something happens—when something happens—I need you alive to tell people the truth. To tell them I wasn't a thief. That I was innocent."
Tears streamed down Miri's face. "And what am I supposed to do if you don't come back?"
"Survive. That's what we're good at now."
Before she could argue more, the warning bells started ringing.
Deep, resonant tones that echoed across every level of Stormhaven. The official Crimson Storm warning. It was really coming.
People in the streets below began running, shouting, dragging children and belongings toward the storm shelters. Panic spread like wildfire.
"That's the twelve-hour warning," Miri said, her voice hollow. "The storm hits at dawn."
"Perfect." I rolled up the map and stuffed it in my bag along with the few supplies I'd managed to gather. "That gives me time to climb."
"Lyn—"
"Go, Miri. Please. Find a shelter. Stay safe. And if I don't make it back..." I pulled her into a fierce hug. "Thank you. For everything. For following me here. For not believing their lies. For being the only family I have left."
Miri hugged me back, sobbing. "You better come back. You hear me? You better come back with enough power to burn down the entire Apex Citadel, or I'm going to be really angry at you."
I laughed through my own tears. "I'll do my best."
We separated, and Miri disappeared into the crowd without looking back. Probably because if she looked back, she'd try to stop me again.
I waited until she was gone, then headed in the opposite direction.
Up.
Always up.
The climb toward the Tempest Spire took hours. The Lower Drifts were at the bottom of Stormhaven's floating islands, and the Spire stood at the very top—above even the Apex Citadel. I had to cross dozens of bridges, climb hundreds of stairs, and sneak past several Storm Guard checkpoints.
Everyone was so focused on getting to safety that nobody noticed one more desperate refugee moving through the chaos.
The higher I climbed, the stronger the wind became. The sky darkened from gray to black. Lightning flashed in the distance—not normal white-blue lightning, but deep crimson, like the sky was bleeding.
The Crimson Storm was building.
I passed through the Middle Tiers, where merchants frantically boarded up their shops. Through the Apex Citadel's outer districts, where nobles fled to their fortified mansions. Nobody stopped me. Nobody even saw me.
I'd become a ghost in my own realm.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I reached the base of the Tempest Spire.
It was even more massive up close—a tower of dark stone that seemed to pierce the clouds themselves. Ancient runes covered its surface, glowing faintly with residual storm magic. No guards protected it. Who would be crazy enough to come here during a Crimson Storm?
Me, apparently.
The door stood open, like it had been waiting.
I stepped inside and started climbing the spiral staircase that wound up through the Spire's heart. Each step echoed in the empty tower. My legs burned. My weak left arm throbbed. But I kept going.
Up and up and up.
The voice in my head grew louder with each floor I climbed:
Yes. Come higher. Come to where the storm can reach you.
Who are you? I thought back.
Someone who has waited seventy years for this moment. Someone who was betrayed just like you. Someone who understands rage and revenge better than anyone alive.
Are you the prince? The one from my vision?
I am what remains of him. I am storm and fury and justice denied. And if you are brave enough—or foolish enough—to accept my lightning, I will give you power beyond anything the Storm Council has ever possessed.
What's the cost?
The voice laughed, cold and bitter. Everything. Always everything. But you already gave up everything when they threw you off the Citadel, didn't you? What more can you lose?
He had a point.
I emerged onto the Spire's summit platform and the wind nearly knocked me over. The Crimson Storm raged around me in all its terrible glory—clouds churning like an angry ocean, lightning arcing across the sky in blood-red streaks, thunder that felt like the world was tearing apart.
Below, all of Stormhaven spread out like a map—the Apex Citadel glowing faintly in the storm-light, probably full of nobles hiding in their safe rooms while regular people struggled to survive.
Seraphine was down there somewhere. Cassiel too. Probably together, probably planning their perfect wedding, probably not thinking about me at all.
That was going to change.
I walked to the edge of the platform and spread my arms wide, facing the storm.
"I'm here!" I screamed at the sky, at the lightning, at whatever was waiting in that crimson chaos. "You wanted me? Here I am! Either give me the power to burn them all, or kill me now! I'm done hiding! I'm done being afraid!"
The storm answered.
Lightning arced toward the Spire—not one bolt, but dozens, hundreds, all converging on the summit. On me.
For a second, I questioned everything. Questioned whether this was brave or just stupid. Questioned whether I'd survive the next ten seconds.
Then the first bolt struck.
Pain exploded through every nerve in my body. White-hot agony that made me scream. The smell of burning flesh—my flesh. My heart stuttered, stopped, started again in a different rhythm.
But I didn't fall.
The seals inside me—those chains wrapped around my power since birth—shattered like glass.
And something vast and ancient and absolutely furious poured into the empty space they left behind.
FINALLY, the voice roared in my mind, no longer distant but right there, sharing my skull, my heart, my very soul. FINALLY, SOMEONE WORTHY.
More lightning struck. Red and white and silver, all flooding into my body at once. I should have died. Every law of nature and magic said I should have died.
Instead, I burned.
My skin glowed from within. Storm-marks appeared across my arms, my neck, my face—patterns of lightning frozen in flesh. My eyes blazed so bright I could see the light reflecting off the clouds.
Power crashed through me in waves—not the gentle, controlled magic I'd been taught, but something wild and primal and absolutely devastating.
I wasn't just calling the storm anymore.
I WAS the storm.
"Yes," I whispered, then louder: "YES!"
The lightning intensified, creating a column of pure energy around me. Through the chaos, I felt something else—someone else—taking shape.
A presence manifesting from the lightning itself.
And then, impossibly, a figure appeared before me.
A man made of storm-light and fury, devastatingly beautiful and terrifying at once. Silver-white hair that moved like clouds. Eyes that glowed gold with silver cracks running through them—exactly like mine now. Features too perfect to be fully human.
He smiled, and it was the coldest, most arrogant expression I'd ever seen.
"Who dares awaken me?" he asked, his voice echoing inside my head and out loud at the same time.
I met his glowing eyes without fear. "Someone who's going to use your power to destroy her enemies."
His smile widened. "Perfect. Then we're going to get along beautifully."
The lightning pulsed one final time, and I felt him—felt his entire consciousness—pour into my chest. Into my heart.
We became one.
And the last thing I saw before I collapsed was his translucent form standing over me, looking down with an expression that might have been satisfaction or might have been hunger.
"Welcome to your new life, little exile," Prince Raelith Skyrender whispered. "Let's see if you survive it."
Then everything went black.