Page 23 of Where Lightning Strikes Twice (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #2)

ELENA

T he council has delayed final judgment for three days, granting Viktor continued authority while they deliberate the unprecedented evidence I presented.

It’s a political maneuver—some elders still cling to tradition despite the genetic proof of the Storm Eagles’ decline, feeling more comfortable with a leader’s supremacy ambition that would preserve the only way of life they know.

They are apparently even willing to excuse his attempt to collapse the aerie before allowing them to mix Storm Eagle heritage with ground-dwellers DNA.

Viktor uses this time window to consolidate his power, and to silence the uncomfortable truth that does not support his political aspirations. Put simply, I have quickly became his number one enemy, so it does not surprise me when I am dragged for my trial at the crack of dawn.

The tribunal platform rises before me, an ancient stone disc jutting from the aerie’s central cavern.

Morning light streams through crystal apertures high in the rock, catching on the polished surface and the ceremonial runes etched into its perimeter.

Generations of Storm Eagle judgments have been passed here—life, death, exile.

Today, I am the accused who climbs its steps and stands at its center awaiting my trial.

Viktor circles the platform, his silver-streaked hair gleaming in the fractured light. He’s dressed in full ceremonial leathers—Kael’s rightful attire—and plays to the assembled clan with the confidence of someone who believes victory is already his.

“Behold the ground-dweller who corrupted your Stormwright,” he announces, gesturing toward me with theatrical flair. “The healer who poisoned his mind with lies about our sacred bloodline.”

I hold my head high despite the bruises on my face and the guards flanking me. My scientific training taught me to observe even when afraid, to analyze even when threatened. So I observe and analyze—the crowd’s reactions, the elders’ expressions, the subtle signs of division among the clan.

The younger Storm Eagles watch with curiosity rather than hatred. The warriors who brought me here treated me with rough efficiency but no cruelty. Even some elders seem uncertain, stealing glances at Kael, who stands bound across the chamber, his golden eyes never leaving my face.

“She is a Haven’s Heart scientist,” Viktor continues, pacing like a predator. “Sent to study us, to find our weaknesses, to prepare for our extermination. And yet your former leader welcomed her touch, shared our blood with her, betrayed everything we stand for.”

Elder Talon steps forward, his ancient face impassive. “The accusations are grave, Stormwarden. What evidence supports them?”

Viktor snaps his fingers, and a young warrior brings forward my research tablet. “Her own records. Scientific analysis of Storm Eagle blood freely given by the traitor Kael Stormwright. Notes on our genetic structure, our abilities, our magical heritage.”

He passes the tablet to Elder Talon, who studies it with narrowed eyes.

I watch carefully, noting which screens he examines.

The tablet contains only what they found in my pack when they captured us—surface analysis, nothing about the deeper discoveries that might actually help the Storm Eagles understand their genetic future.

“Scientist,” Elder Talon addresses me directly. “What say you to these charges?”

The chamber falls silent. This is my moment—my opportunity to either plead for mercy or speak truth. Kael’s eyes meet mine across the space, and I see his almost imperceptible nod. He trusts me to make the right choice.

“I am a geneticist,” I begin, my voice steady despite my fear. “My work focuses on understanding shifter biology, not exploiting it. The research you hold was conducted with freely given samples and full disclosure to Kael Stormwright about its purpose.”

“Which was?” Elder Tempest asks, her severe face skeptical.

“To understand the extraordinary genetic heritage that makes Storm Eagles unique among shifters.” I take a deep breath, calculating my next words carefully. “What I discovered may challenge your traditions, but it might also save your clan from extinction.”

A murmur ripples through the gathered Eagles. Viktor’s face darkens.

“Extinction? Ridiculous!” he scoffs. “Our bloodline is the purest, the strongest?—”

“The purest, yes,” I interrupt, seizing the opening. “But that purity is killing you.”

The chamber erupts in outraged cries. Viktor moves toward me, hand raised, but Elder Talon’s staff strikes the stone floor with a resonant crack that silences everyone.

“Explain yourself, ground-dweller,” he commands, his golden eyes—so like Kael’s but faded with age—fixed on my face.

This is the moment. I step forward, embracing the role I’ve been preparing for since I first analyzed Kael’s blood and saw the truth. No longer just a scientist, but an advocate for genetic reality over magical myths.

“May I show you?” I ask, gesturing toward the tablet. Elder Talon hesitates, then nods, handing it to me.

I access the genetic analysis program, pulling up comparison charts that even non-scientists can understand. My fingers move rapidly, highlighting key sequences and projecting the display so all can see.

“This is Storm Eagle DNA from three generations ago,” I explain, showing a complex, vibrant pattern. “And this”—I swipe to the next screen—”is the current Storm Eagle genetic structure. The markers for storm magic are weakening. The sequences that allow your transformations are becoming unstable.”

I project a timeline, a downward trend that cannot be ignored.

“Within four generations, your ability to control lightning will diminish. Within seven, the shifting ability itself will begin to fail. Your children are already showing signs—reduced wingspan, delayed transformation, weakened storm affinity.”

Commander Gale, the youngest elder, steps forward. “How can you know this?”

“Because it’s written in your blood,” I reply simply. “The same patterns have been documented in other isolated shifter populations. Genetic diversity isn’t contamination—it’s survival.”

“Lies!” Viktor slams his fist against a stone column. “She twists science to justify corruption!”

“Is it corruption when plants cross-pollinate to create stronger offspring?” I counter.

“Is it corruption when different metals are alloyed to create stronger weapons? The oldest Storm Eagle records speak of alliances with ground clans that had complementary abilities. Those weren’t warnings—they were examples to follow. ”

A young female Eagle steps forward from the crowd. “Is that why some hatchlings can’t manifest full wings?”

“Silence!” Viktor commands, but others join her.

“Three children this season cannot summon lightning!”

“My nephew’s feathers grow wrong, twisted!”

“The transformation takes longer each generation!”

I sense the tide turning. These aren’t abstract theories to them; they’re witnessing the effects in their own families.

“These are signs of genetic deterioration,” I confirm. “But they can be reversed. Your ancestors understood this. The strongest Storm Eagles historically came from bloodlines that periodically introduced new genetic material from compatible clans.”

Elder Tempest studies me with narrowed eyes. “Compatible clans? You mean… ground-dwellers like yourself?”

“Some ground clans carry markers similar to yours,” I explain. “Particularly those with earth-magic abilities that complement storm powers. The historical records Kael showed me in your archives suggest that the original Storm Eagles often formed mate bonds with healing-touched ground clans.”

I glance at Kael, whose face shows pride despite his captivity. He knew this would be my approach—using science to challenge tradition, but framing it within their own historical context.

Viktor stalks across the platform toward me. “Enough of these falsehoods! She seduces you with promises while plotting our destruction!”

“If I wanted your destruction,” I respond calmly, “I would have reported Kael’s identity to Haven’s Heart the first time he came to my medical station.

I would have analyzed his blood for weaknesses instead of strengths.

I would have taken the Storm Eagle wing your people deliberately left as a warning and used it to develop targeted bioweapons. ”

The elders exchange startled glances. I’ve surprised them with my knowledge of the wing incident—something only their high council should know about.

“Instead,” I continue, “I protected Kael’s identity. I concealed my most significant discoveries from my superiors. I defied direct orders to find him when he fell, knowing it might cost me everything.”

“Why?” Elder Talon asks, genuine curiosity in his ancient eyes. “Why betray your people for ours?”

I consider my answer carefully. The truth is complex—part scientific integrity, part moral awakening, part the inexplicable pull of the mate bond. But these proud warriors need an answer they can understand.

“Because truth matters more than politics,” I say finally. “Because your extinction would impoverish our world. And because…”—I hesitate, then commit fully—”because what’s happening between your people and mine is more important than ancient hatreds.”

A younger council member leans forward. “What do you mean by ‘what’s happening’?”

Viktor interrupts before I can answer. “She speaks of abomination! Of mixing our sacred bloodline with ground-dweller filth!”

“I speak of evolution,” I counter firmly. “Of returning to the original balance that made Storm Eagles the apex of the shifter kind. Your ancestors understood that isolation leads to stagnation. The prophecies themselves speak of uniting sky and earth.”

“She twists our sacred texts!” Viktor snarls, but I notice doubt flickering across several elders’ faces.

Elder Talon turns to Kael. “You have remained silent, Stormwright. What say you to her claims?”

The guards loosen Kael’s bonds enough for him to step forward. Despite his injuries and captivity, he radiates the natural authority that made him a leader from such a young age.

“Everything she says is true,” he states simply. “I’ve seen the evidence myself—both scientific and historical. Our isolation was necessary when the barriers stood between territories, but that time has passed. We face extinction if we cling to misunderstood traditions.”

“Misunderstood?” Elder Tempest challenges.

“The prophecy speaks of uniting sky and earth under eagle wings,” Kael reminds them. “Not conquering, not subjugating—uniting. There’s a difference.”

The crowd murmurs, considering his words. I notice younger Eagles nodding, while traditionalists cluster near Viktor, their expressions hardening.

Viktor sees his control slipping. With a sudden movement, he snatches the tablet from my hands, throwing it to the ground where it shatters.

“Enough debate! The law is clear—contamination by ground-dweller influence is punishable by death. I call for the immediate execution of both traitors!”

Before anyone can respond, a strange sensation washes over me—a tingling awareness that begins in my chest and radiates outward. I glance at Kael and see that he feels it too. Our incomplete mate bond, dormant since our separation, stirs to life under the stress of the moment.

My hands begin to glow faintly with silver-blue light. Across the chamber, lightning crackles subtly around Kael’s fingers despite his restraints. Several Eagles notice, eyes widening.

“See how she corrupts him even now!” Viktor declares, pointing at the visible energy. “She infects him with her ground-dweller magic!”

“That’s not what’s happening,” says a quiet voice from the crowd. Zara steps forward, her bronze hair gleaming in the chamber’s light. “I’ve seen this before, when she healed me. Her power doesn’t corrupt—it complements.”

She moves to stand beside Kael. “What they share isn’t contamination. It’s a balance. Storm and silver, sky and earth—just as the oldest stories describe.”

The energy between Kael and me intensifies, a visible connection that spans the chamber. I feel stronger, more centered, despite my physical exhaustion. Across the space, Kael stands straighter, his injuries seeming to trouble him less.

Elder Talon observes with ancient eyes that miss nothing. “This bond between them… it enhances rather than diminishes.”

“Precisely what my research showed,” I confirm. “Combined genetic strengths produce more powerful offspring. It’s why the original Storm Eagles sought earth-healers as mates. The resulting children had both storm control and healing abilities—stronger than either bloodline alone.”

The crowd’s attention shifts back and forth between us, witnessing something many have only heard about in legends—the visible manifestation of a growing mate bond. I see wonder in many faces, fear in others.

Viktor recognizes his losing position. With a snarl of frustration, he changes tactics.

“The council must deliberate on these claims,” he announces. “I call for immediate seclusion of the elders while the prisoners are returned to their cells. The execution will be scheduled for dawn tomorrow, giving the council time to consider all evidence.”

Elder Talon nods reluctantly. “The council will deliberate. Guards, return the prisoners to separate holding cells.”

As guards move to lead us away, Kael and I lock eyes one final time. The bond between us pulses with unspoken communication:

Be ready. This isn’t over.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the mountain peaks—a gathering storm that mirrors the tension within the aerie. I feel it calling to something inside me, a resonance that grows stronger with each passing hour.

As they lead me back to my cell, I notice subtle changes in how the Storm Eagles regard me. Some watch with open curiosity now instead of hostility. Others whisper among themselves, glancing between Kael and me with newfound understanding.

The guards place me in a small chamber carved into the mountain, its single window facing east toward the rising sun—the direction of tomorrow’s scheduled execution. One young guard lingers at the door, hesitating before speaking.

“Is it true?” she asks quietly. “About the weakening bloodlines?”

I meet her gaze steadily. “Every word. Check your birth records. Count how many children each generation manifest full storm abilities compared to the generation before.”

She nods thoughtfully before securing the door, leaving me alone with the knowledge that seeds of doubt have been planted.

Through the window, I watch dark clouds gathering around the mountain peaks. Electricity charges the air, making my skin tingle and my newly awakened powers stir. Dawn will bring either our deaths or a new beginning for the Storm Eagles.

Either way, the storm is coming.