119

119

KAEL

The light of dawn catches the silver threads in Seraphina’s hair as the warriors of the Obsidian Spire-fey face the enemy hordes who have \[slipped through\] the sightblinder’s gauntlet.” The Obsidian Spire warriors bind her in shackles wrought of blessed iron. She doesn’t resist — she just looks at me, that disconcerting mercury gaze locked on my own, a small sly smile curving her mouth.

“You believe this victory, Storm’s Heir?” she demands, her tone carrying through the craziness on all sides of us. "You don't have any idea what you've unleashed."

“Do tell,” I answer, folding my arms as I look up at her to see if she’s playing me. My cloud-colored eyes don't waver from hers as I examine past her mysterious words.

“The old magic respects strength,” she goes on, canting her head like a predator considering its prey. “When the two of you exercise your abilities together with such intensity, you mate and you have become something that the ancient powers cannot go without notice of. They will descend on you now—all of them.

Raven comes over from where she’s been talking to her father, her midnight-black hair fluttering in the morning breeze. Her eyes are deeper violet, as though she has carried the divine energy into her life’s canvas.

"What is she talking about?" Raven says, her overall athletic shape now tensed with renewed worry.

“The Convergence,” answers Mat after I could say anything. Exhausted, his weathered face is ashen with guilt. “It’s something they’ve come to for thousands of years. When powerful magical entities make an appearance, the ancient powers team up to adjudicate their demise.

"And you knew about this?" I order, my voice going low and dangerous. The storm clouds above match my fury, growling menacingly.

"I had a feeling," he sighs, refusing to look me in the eyes. “But I was hoping—I was praying—that it wouldn’t be strong enough with you two to set off.

"Well, I'm happy for you," Seraphina laughs, and it's the sound of shattering glass. “Its love has killed us all.”

Eira bounds over in her wolf form and changes back to human, messy red hair contrasting with her sharp emerald eyes, panic etched on her freckled face. Despite the fact she is tiny, she walks like a woman who has just co-organised a huge rescue operation on behalf of victims.

“Kael we have a problem,” she breathes. The radio frequencies are just insane. We've got reports from packs in three territories — weird magical signatures coming up last night, two creatures that nobody's seen before walking by and nothing more."

"What kind of creatures?" “Does the store promote substance abuse?” Raven leans in toward me, reflexively.

“The sort that were sealed up for a reason,” Seraphina replies, her satisfaction clear. “Dragons lifting from the Northern Peaks, shadow wraiths rising from the Whispering Wood, elemental guardians waking in parts of the world still for a hundred years.

I feel Raven take my hand and our mate bond flares with our joint concern. Through our linking, I feel her resolve battling fear — not fear for herself, but fear for everyone we have a duty to protect.

“There has to be a way to make this stop,” she says firmly. “Some way to undo what we have caused.”

“There is no undoing the Convergence, my sweet Moondisc Daughter,” Seraphina purrs. Call upon it once and it must answer. The only question is whether you and the nation you lead will face it as supplicants, or as equal partners.”

Alpha Thalion comes forward, his majestic posture compromised by fatigue and anxiety. Catching the morning light in the silver streaks of black hair, he regards the shackled prisoner with calculating amethyst eyes.

“This woman does speak in riddles and threats,” he intones with the gravitas of decades of leadership. “But she’s been correct so far.” If she has a secret to help our packs survive whatever’s on its way, then maybe we should listen.”

“Dad,” Raven says, but I can see she’s thinking the same thing. I will do what I can with what I have, and Seraphina might be all we have to supply us with the information we need.

"I'm not saying we believe her," Thalion adds. “But desperate situations require desperate measures.”

Seraphina's smile widens. "How refreshing — a leader who gets pragmatism. All right, I'll give you what you need so you're in the know. But I need something in return.”
“Now, you’re not in much of a position to be demanding things, are you?” I say, allowing a little storm energy to crackle around my fingers.

"Aren't I?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I'm the only one here who's even seen a Convergence." The previous dispatch, last year. My grandmother lived through the last one and passed down the knowledge to us in our family. Arm yourself with that information, or you’ll be wandering blindly into a room full of entities that could wipe out your entire race with a mere thought.”

The gathered wolves begin to fidget, all nervous energy as they sense the tension in the air. I see fear and uncertainty in their faces — these are warriors who have confronted rogues and enemy packs without a flinch, yet there is something about ancient forces of magic.

"What do you want?" Raven asks quietly.

“My own freedom, someday,” Seraphina says. “Not today, not tomorrow, but after this is all over — if we all survive — I want to be let go to find my own way.”

From Eira: "No it's not!" ” “She’s murdered dozens of our number, turned who knows how many more with shadow magic. She doesn't deserve—”

"Deserve's got nothin' to do with it," I interject, looking closely at Seraphina's expression. "This is about survival. If what she knows about is what comes between our packs and life or death..."

“Then we make the deal,” Raven concludes, but I can sense her wariness through our connection. "But with conditions."

“I’m all ears,” Seraphina says.

"You give up everything you know about the Convergence —every hook, every crook, every edge," Raven says firmly. “You enable us to prepare for what’s coming. And if you betray us again, if you even think about hurting anything under our protection, the agreement is off.”

"And?" Seraphina prods, obviously waiting for more conditions.

“And you get to do bind-y magic,” I chime in. “Something that would stop you from shadow-magicking another member of our allied packs. Permanently."

For the very first time since she was captured, Seraphina appears genuinely upset. "Binding magic that powerful… it would make me a completely different person."
"Good," Eira mumbles in her breath.

“It’s up to you,” says Raven, with false sweetness. “Save us all, yourself included, or face” whatever’s coming from behind bars.

“Shut up,” Seraphina says, and she closes her eyes, and I catch this glimpse of something almost vulnerable pansy in her face. When she opens them, the vulnerability is wiped away and replaced with cold calculation.

"All right," she says at last. "I accept your terms. But this much I can promise you- what I'm going to tell you will alter all you believe you know about your world.

She stops for dramatic effect, clearly relishing that we are now paying attention. The morning is becoming still around us, only the distant cries of warriors ministering to the wounded and holding the ground.

“The Convergence is not just a convention,” she intones to me, her voice distant and trance-like. "It's a trial. Once all thousand years, whenever a new force arises that could shift the balance between light and dark, order and chaos, the ageless ones gather around to discuss whether this force should still exist."

“And what if they rule against us?” I wonder, even as I suspect I know.

“Then they remove the risk,” she says. You and Raven and everyone around you. Your packs, your families, anyone who
might continue spreading your bloodlines or your influence.”

The words had the force of a blow. I can sense Raven's horror echoing mine through our mate bond. We believed we were battling to shield our people, but it may well be our very being that endangers them.

"Here's the best part," Seraphina says, obviously enjoying our disbelief. “The trial isn’t just about power — it’s about worthiness. “These ancients will test not just your strength, but your wisdom, your compassion, your quality of being able to wield power without being corrupted by it.”

"What kind of tests?" Matthias wonders his academic mind obviously sifting through alternatives.

“That would depend on which old ones answer the summons,” Seraphina says. “Some are into tests of combat, some are trials of sacrifice or moral dilemmas with no right answer. The previous Convergence had three challenges, each which was supposed to reveal different aspects of the candidates’ character.”

“Candidates plural,” Raven says. “There were other people who were being tested?

Seraphina nods grimly. “A vampire lord that wielded the ability to walk in daylight, including twin witches who manipulated time itself, and a dragon shifter that both breathed fire and ice. At the end of the tests, only the dragon shifter still lived.

The consequences loom over us like a shroud. We’re not just contending with some hazy magical tribulation — we’re participating in a contest where not just we but every person we hold dear will die if we fail.

"How long do we have?" I wonder, already planning a variety of options.

“You already see the signs,” Seraphina replies. "Three days, or perhaps four, my guess is, until the Convergence is complete. Then you’re called, whether you’re ready or not.”
Three days to get ready for trials that might show the way to save our whole world. Three days to prove ourselves deserving of powers we are still learning to wield.

“There’s another thing,” Seraphina says, and I now my blood turns to ice in my veins. “Something my grandmother made me promise to never make public unless I was confronted with a Convergence of my own.

She meets my gaze straight on, her silver eyes burning into my stormy gray ones almost unsettlingly.

That The Storm’s Heir is not the only one of his lineage to take the trials ancient. Your great-grandfather, Aldric Rathmore, was called to a Convergence two hundred years in the past."

The world appears to tilt around me. "That's impossible. And there is no mention of any Rathmore taking part in ancient magic trials."

“It’s that he didn’t succeed,” Seraphina says matter-of-factly. “And whenever a candidate proves unable to Converge, they and they alone are wiped from time itself. Their bloodline is able to live on, but the dud candidate becomes an un-person, a name only those who voted them down will remember.”

I take a few steps back, winded, as though I’d been punched in the chest. Raven sends waves of love and support to me through our mate bond, but Raven’s strength is not enough to absorb this news entirely.

"My great-grandfather... I don't even know him," I whisper, the enormity of what this means hitting me. My family never mentioned him, never. I had never even seen a photo of him before but always believed he died young or left the pack, but..."

“But now you know the truth,” Seraphina concludes. “And you know what it is to fail. It’s not just death — it’s total deletion out of existence itself.”