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Naya smiled. “When I gave him Nnimi’s drawing... I’ve never seen an Alpha so moved. He asked about you immediately, wanted to know if you were both well.”

Tears gathered in Oshrun’s eyes, though she blinked them back quickly. “I didn’t realize he would travel with the king. I assumed...” She trailed off.

“Have you considered visiting him? Or bringing Nnimi to meet her father?”

Oshrun lifted her drink again, steady hands tightening around her cup. “I... I don’t know. It’s complicated. The community’s acceptance of this alliance is fragile enough without their Khesh abandoning them to reunite with her Alpha.”

“But you want to see him.”

“Of course,” Oshrun whispered. “Every day.”

Naya reached over and touched her arm. “Then we’ll find a way to make it happen. Part of this alliance should be reuniting families that were separated by necessity.”

Naya watched the Omegas as they left the dining area, some of them still debating, All of them were depending on her ability to find the Solution that had eluded generations of Omegas.

If she failed, if the storm struck Onn Kkulma as predicted, it wouldn’t just devastate Akoro’s city.

The alliance would crumble before it truly began, the Omegas would retreat deeper into hiding, and an entire region would remain trapped in the cycle of magical catastrophe that had shaped their lives for decades.

The pressure of that responsibility settled over her like a mantle, but beneath it burned a fierce determination.

She would find a way to stop the storm. She had to.

“Think of the nnin-eellithi as you would any desert creature. It’s most active at night, rests during the heat of midday, and you’ll find it moving most often at dawn and dusk.”

The soothing-voiced woman from the assembly—introduced as Yshara Qor—sat opposite Naya on the cushions arranged around a low stone table.

To her right was Ttela Vos, the elder from the assembly, and on her other side was Oshrun.

The training session was underway, and several crystal staffs of varying sizes lay carefully positioned on the surface.

Naya stared at Yshara, her brows raised, eyes wide. “You’re talking about it like it’s alive.”

“In a way, it is.” She peeled back the golden skin of a desert fruit, revealing crimson flesh beneath. “Magic is energy, just as we are. Just as every living thing carries its own force.”

Ttela leaned forward from where she sat cross-legged on the cushions, her weathered hands resting on the crystal staff across her knees.

When she spoke, authority rang in every word, and Naya could understand why now.

Oshrun had introduced her and Yshara as former Kheshs.

“In your land, as I understand it, that energy is spread across the entire land, saturated into almost everything,” she said.

“This may be because your land is fundamentally different in composition.” She gestured with one gnarled hand.

“You have more bodies of water, moisture in your air. You have soil and abundant natural greenery. All of that makes a difference in how magic behaves.”

Naya’s mind drifted to her forest, to the way it had seemed like a living thing.

Sounds of Omegas combat training nearby echoed up to the plateau they sat on, underscoring her training.

“Living trees and natural elements will absorb magical properties directly from the earth,” Yshara continued, pausing to wipe fruit juice from her chin with the back of her hand.

“But once they’re harvested—turned into wood or other materials—they lose that direct connection and hold much less power. ”

Naya nodded slowly. “That aligns with how magic feels in my land.”

“Here in Tsashokra, we don’t have many of those natural vessels.” Ttela’s dark eyes reflected years of watching magic tear across the desert. “Our magic is somewhat isolated because our water is underground and our natural environment isn’t as easy for magic to infuse with.”

“And that isolation changes everything about how it behaves,” Oshrun said.

“Magic is attracted to magic. In your land, magic that’s part of, say, a sea won’t be drawn to buildings or forests.

It will stay where it is, content. Here, it’s not tethered to anything, so it forms the clusters that we call nnin-eellithi , or magic blast in your language. ”

Naya’s mind worked through the implications as Yshara took another bite of her fruit, crimson juice staining her fingers.

Oshrun continued, “Now, each nnin-eellithi is made up of different energy so they have different...” She paused, searching for a word.

“Moods?” Naya suggested.

“Yes.” Yshara’s eyes brightened with enthusiasm as she gestured with her half-eaten fruit.

“We have been calling them states, but mood is a better way to describe it because those moods can change.” She shifted her legs, tucking them underneath herself.

“Now, as Oshrun said, magic is attracted to magic, which means the nnin-eellithi wants to grow stronger by absorbing more magic.”

“And by that measure, it is attracted to us because Omegas have magic within us,” Ttela finished, her weathered face grim.

“And that is exactly why we are able to manipulate it so easily.” Yshara set down the remains of her fruit, her expression growing serious.

“Magic pays attention to us, because we are magic. In your land, if you wanted to get magic to do something, it would listen to you because you are essentially a concentrated source of magic compared to the magic that is spread thin everywhere else.”

“But here,” Oshrun said, “the nnin-eellithi are much bigger and stronger than the magic within us, so it’s unlikely to listen to us. And since they want to absorb more magic to grow stronger...”

The rest of the thought hung in the shaded air between them. Naya’s mouth went dry. “…they follow and attack Omegas,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” Ttela said simply.

Naya exhaled firming the concept in her mind.

“As you know, the Ancient Tongue is the only other thing magic listens to apart from us,” Oshrun explained. “Both written and spoken, though we mainly use the written form.”

“After the First Mother came and taught the Ancient Tongue,” Ttela said, her voice taking on the reverence of shared history, “we learned how to encode ancient tongue symbols onto tools, so that they can do a specific action or complete a task using magic.”

The crystal staffs lay across the table’s surface like fallen branches, their carved surfaces catching fragments of sunlight. Shadow-deep grooves spiraled down each length, forming symbols that seemed to shift and writhe in the changing light.

Naya’s fingers curled against her palms. “But if magic is not abundant in your world, how does that tool access it?”

“Some symbols collect and store magic over time,” Oshrun said. “What magic exists in our environment is drawn into the tool and held there until needed.”

Yshara placed down her fruit. “Crystals are a perfect conduit for magic. They grow in perfect harmony—each piece mirrors the whole, creating an unbroken, flawless pattern that the Ancient Tongue symbols need as a foundation to hold magic steady.”

She gestured toward Oshrun’s staff. “This staff has many Ancient Tongue engravings on it that make it a powerful tool for controlling magic, but it must be paired with the intention of an Omega who naturally has magic within her.”

“So only Omegas can use that staff?” Naya confirmed.

“Only Kheshs,” Ttela said.

Yshara wiped her fingers clean and leaned forward. “But from everything you’ve told us, you already have a unique connection to magic. So pick up the staff—let’s see what happens.”

Akoro came striding through the shifting haze, closing the distance between them. And before Naya could protest, he swept her up in his arms, pulled her against his chest with possessive satisfaction.

“Akoro!” She exclaimed in surprise. “You don’t have to come and get me, I can walk to your camp.

” She cuddled into his chest without conscious thought.

The solid warmth of him, the way his scent enveloped her like a claiming—it sent relief flooding through her after the frustrating day she’d endured.

“I want to,” he said simply, his voice rough with that coarse huskiness that makes her pulse quicken.

“It’s dangerous every time you leave the sand drift. You don’t need to risk yourself to come and get me, I have protection.”

Akoro didn’t bother to reply, just looked down at her with that intense focus that told her he wasn’t going to leave her protection to anyone else. It should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it reached parts of her heart she’d kept guarded from him.

As he carried her toward the camp, the familiar yearning sparked between them, her body responding to his proximity despite her dejected mood. The anticipation of being alone with him, of losing herself in the furious, erotic frenzy they created together, made her nipples harden.

He carried her directly inside his tent.

“How was your day?” His beautiful, deepening scent wrapped around her as he set her down inside. His hands remained at her waist as he pulled back, and studied her face with those dark eyes.

“Who upset you?” The husk in his voice turned gritty, and his entire frame went rigid.

“What?”

“What’s wrong, Naya?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He leaned in, his scent turning bitter, his eyes hard. “Tell me who the fuck it was.”

“No one upset me, Akoro. I just want?—”

“I can fucking tell,” he barked, muscles rippling with agitation. “Tell me who it was. I’ll make sure they understand what happens when they upset what’s mine.”

Despite her dejection, Naya found herself smiling at his fierce protectiveness. He was a huge, thick beast of aggression—coiled muscle and barely contained tension, and all because he suspected she was upset. It pulled at something deep inside her, something wild.

Akoro went still, his aggressive posture softening as he focused on her smile. “There it is,” he murmured.