Page 18 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

“You’ve made this too easy, Stormwright. By dawn, both your leadership and your ground-dweller witch will be mine to dispose of as I see fit.”

It takes every ounce of my control not to strike him down where he stands. But that’s exactly what he wants—a display of uncontrolled rage that would confirm every accusation he’s made. Instead, I meet his gaze steadily.

“You underestimate her, Viktor. And you underestimate me.”

His smile never reaches his cold gray eyes. “We’ll see.”

The purification chamber lives up to its ancient reputation.

Carved deep within the mountain, far from the open sky that is our birthright, its stone walls are inscribed with sigils designed to dampen magical energy.

The moment I enter, I feel the difference—the constant hum of storm magic that normally fills my veins fades to a distant whisper.

The warriors lock the heavy wooden door behind me, leaving me alone in the dim light of a single oil lamp.

The chamber contains only a simple pallet for sleeping, a water pitcher, and a small altar for meditation.

Traditional purification requires three days of isolation, fasting, and ritual contemplation.

I pace the small space, mind racing through possibilities.

Viktor has orchestrated this perfectly. By the time I’m released, he will have consolidated power, possibly eliminated Elena, and positioned himself as the clan’s savior from my alleged corruption.

His temporary leadership will become permanent through formal challenge—a challenge I’ll be in no position to refuse and will have no chance to win after days of magical dampening.

But Viktor has made one critical mistake. He assumes the mate bond between Elena and me is a weakness to exploit rather than a strength to fear.

Even through the dampening effects of the chamber, I can feel her—a warm presence at the edges of my consciousness.

Our bond has strengthened with each meeting, each shared touch, each exchange of affection and magic.

Although it is incomplete, it creates a connection that transcends physical distance.

I settle onto the stone floor, cross my legs, and close my eyes, focusing on that connection. Viktor may have isolated me from my clan, from the sky, from the storm itself—but he cannot sever what binds me to Elena.

I push my consciousness along that golden thread of connection, seeking her mind, her presence.

It’s like trying to see through fog, the dampening sigils making what should be natural into an exhausting struggle.

Sweat beads on my forehead as I concentrate, pouring every ounce of will into reaching her.

Elena , I project, unsure if thought alone can bridge the distance between us. Danger. Viktor comes for you. Hide .

Whether she receives my warning or not, I must prepare for what comes next.

Viktor will not be satisfied with merely taking my position.

His pride, his jealousy, his fanatical belief in Storm Eagle superiority—all demand my complete defeat and humiliation.

He will force a formal challenge the moment I emerge from purification, when I am at my weakest.

I remove my ceremonial leathers, stripping down to simple trousers, and begin the ancient conditioning exercises passed down through generations of Storm Eagle warriors.

If I cannot access the full measure of my storm magic, I will rely on physical strength and combat training.

For hours, I move through forms designed to center the mind and prepare the body, pushing myself to the edge of exhaustion.

When I finally rest, collapsing onto the pallet, my muscles burn with exertion.

But my mind feels clearer, more focused.

Viktor believes he has trapped me, neutralized me.

He forgets that I have led our clan through thirteen years of hardship and threats, that I became Stormwright at nineteen by defeating challengers older and more experienced than he is now.

He forgets that I have never needed storm magic to be dangerous.

Sleep claims me eventually, but it brings no peace.

My dreams are fractured, violent—Viktor’s scouts dragging Elena from her quarters, Zara standing trial before a hostile Council, the aerie burning as Dire Wolves scale the cliffs beneath.

I wake with a jolt, disoriented in the unchanging dim light of the chamber, unsure how much time has passed.

A new sensation pulls at my awareness—pain, distant but unmistakable, radiating through the mate bond. Elena is in danger, perhaps already captured. I reach for the connection again, straining against the dampening sigils, trying to send strength, reassurance, anything that might help her.

The door to the chamber opens without warning. Zara stands in the entrance, flanked by two young warriors who look distinctly uncomfortable.

“Leave us,” she commands them with a confidence that reminds me forcefully of our mother. “I will take responsibility for this breach of protocol.”

They hesitate, then bow slightly and step back. Zara enters the chamber, closing the door behind her.

“You look terrible,” she says bluntly, taking in my sweat-soaked appearance and the dark circles under my eyes.

“Viktor’s scouts found evidence of my meetings with Elena,” I explain quickly, keeping my voice low. “He’s convinced the Council I’ve been corrupted by ground-dweller influence. They’ve ordered her capture.”

Zara nods grimly. “I know. That’s why I’m here. Viktor sent a strike team an hour ago. Six warriors, his most loyal.”

“I need to warn her,” I say, moving toward the door, but Zara blocks my path.

“It’s too late for warnings, brother. The settlement is already on alert—something triggered their perimeter alarms just after midnight. Viktor’s team won’t be able to approach undetected.”

Relief washes through me—Elena must have received my warning somehow. But that relief quickly fades as I realize the implications.

“If they’re discovered inside Haven’s Heart territory, it could trigger open war,” I say.

“Which may be exactly what Viktor wants.” Zara’s expression hardens. “He’s been meeting with Council members individually, convincing them that our only path to survival is all-out war with the ground-dwellers. With you confined, there’s no voice of moderation to counter his arguments.”

I press my palms against the cold stone wall, frustration burning through me. “I need to get out of here, Zara. Elena is in danger, the clan is in danger?—”

“And you’re no use to anyone trapped in this chamber,” she finishes. “I know. That’s why I brought this.” She pulls a small vial from inside her tunic—a vial containing swirling silver-blue liquid that seems to glow from within.

“What is it?” I ask, though something in me recognizes the energy signature even before she answers.

“Your healer gave it to me after she saved my life. She said it contained her essence—her magic—and that I should keep it safe until it was needed.” Zara holds it out to me. “I think that time is now.”

I take the vial carefully, feeling the power pulsing within. Elena’s magic, freely given—the perfect counter to the dampening effects of the purification chamber.

“How did you get past the guards?” I ask, uncorking the vial.

Zara’s smile holds a hint of mischief. “I told them Elder Talon had ordered a ritual meal brought to you. The old ways are very specific about purification protocols.”

“And they believed you?”

“I’m very convincing when I need to be.” Her expression turns serious. “Whatever you’re planning, do it quickly. Viktor has called a clan gathering for dawn. I think he intends to formalize his leadership position.”

I raise the vial to my lips, hesitating only briefly before drinking its contents.

The effect is immediate and overwhelming—Elena’s magic floods through me, washing away the dampening effects of the sigils, resonating with my own storm magic until lightning dances across my skin uncontrollably.

The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever experienced—power without rage, strength without aggression, a perfect complement to my natural abilities.

“Zara,” I say, my voice vibrating with barely contained energy, “I need you to gather everyone you trust. Meet me at the eastern platform at dawn.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

I move to the door, feeling stronger than I have in days. “I’m going to save Elena. And then I’m going to challenge Viktor for leadership of the clan—on my terms, not his.”

“The Council won’t allow it. They’ve suspended your authority?—”

“The Council follows tradition above all else,” I remind her. “And tradition dictates that any Storm Eagle can challenge for leadership at the clan gathering.” Lightning arcs between my fingers as I place my hand on the door. “Viktor wanted a spectacle. I’ll give him one he’ll never forget.”

The door splinters beneath my touch, the wood unable to contain the combined power of my storm magic and Elena’s healing energy. The guards outside jump back in shock as I step through the ruined doorway, lightning illuminating the corridor around me.

“The Stormwright is free!” one shouts, reaching for a weapon.

I raise my hand, and a small bolt of lightning strikes the stone floor at his feet. “I wouldn’t,” I advise quietly.

Both guards hesitate, uncertainty clear in their young faces. They’ve been raised to follow the Stormwright’s commands without question—but now the Council has suspended my authority, placing them in an impossible position.

“I don’t wish to harm members of my own clan,” I tell them. “But I will not remain imprisoned while a traitor seizes control and threatens the woman who saved my sister’s life.”

Recognition flickers in the eyes of the taller guard. “You’re going after the ground-dweller healer,” he says. “The one who cured Nessa’s wing-sickness when our own healers couldn’t.”

I hadn’t known Elena had treated others in the clan—a revelation for another time. I nod. “Viktor has sent warriors to capture her. I intend to stop them.”

The guards exchange glances, then step aside. “We saw nothing, Stormwright,” the taller one says formally.

I clasp his shoulder briefly in thanks, then race toward the upper levels of the aerie.

Dawn is approaching, and with it, Viktor’s clan gathering.

I need to reach Elena before his strike team does, before he can consolidate his power—and I need to do it without triggering all-out war with Haven’s Heart.

As I emerge onto a deserted launch platform, the first hint of gray touches the eastern sky. I shift into eagle form, feeling Elena’s magic enhance my transformation, making it faster, more complete. My wingspan seems greater, my vision sharper, my connection to the storm stronger than ever before.

I launch myself into the pre-dawn sky, riding the thermal currents toward the ground-dweller settlement. Toward Elena. Toward a confrontation that will determine not just our future, but the future of both our peoples.

Thunder rumbles overhead as clouds gather in response to my emotional state. Let Viktor have his clan gathering. When I return, it will be with the truth that will end his leadership before it truly begins—and possibly change the Storm Eagles forever.