Aelindra's POV
The wind hit me like a fist, nearly throwing me off the ladder.
I clung to the metal rungs with fingers that had gone numb an hour ago, my body pressed flat against the side of the floating island as the Crimson Storm built around me. Rain didn't just fall—it attacked, each drop hitting like a tiny knife cutting into exposed skin.
"Just let go," a voice in my head whispered—my own voice, tired and broken. "It would be so easy. Just let go and fall. No more pain. No more fighting."
I tightened my grip and climbed higher.
Letting go was what they wanted. Giving up meant Seraphine won. Meant Cassiel won. Meant everyone who'd destroyed me got to live happily while I became nothing but a cautionary tale whispered in noble halls.
Not happening.
The ladder led from the Lower Drifts' upper edge to the base of the Middle Tiers—a path maintenance workers used, now abandoned because of the storm. Smart people were hiding. Smart people had found shelter hours ago.
I'd never been particularly smart.
My hands slipped on the wet metal. For one heart-stopping second, I dangled by three fingers, the wind trying to peel me away. My weak left arm screamed in protest as I forced it to grab the next rung.
"Don't you dare give up on me now," I snarled at my own body. "We're not done yet."
Thunder cracked so loud my ears rang. Lightning—already tinged with crimson—flashed across the sky, close enough that I felt the heat of it. The storm was building faster than the weather-readers had predicted.
Good. I needed it at full strength.
Finally, my hand touched solid ground. I dragged myself onto the Middle Tier platform and lay there gasping, my entire body shaking.
"Get up," I told myself. "Get up or die here."
I got up.
The Middle Tiers were supposed to be busy—markets and shops, merchants hawking their wares, sky-ships coming and going. Now the streets stood empty except for a few stragglers running for shelter.
One of them—an old man struggling with a heavy bag—stopped when he saw me.
"Girl! What are you doing out here? The storm's coming! Get to a shelter!"
"Can't," I managed through chattering teeth. "Have to keep climbing."
"Climbing? Climbing where?" He squinted at me, then his eyes went wide. "Storm's mercy, you're not trying to reach the Spire, are you?"
"The Tempest Spire. Yes."
"That's suicide! Nobody goes there during a Crimson Storm! The lightning will—"
"I know what the lightning will do." I pushed past him. "Thanks for your concern."
"Wait! At least take this!" He pressed something into my hand—a small bottle. "Storm-root extract. It'll keep you warm and numb the pain. Not much, but better than nothing."
I stared at the bottle, then at him. "Why help me?"
He shrugged sadly. "Because I've seen that look in someone's eyes before. My daughter had it, right before the Council took her. Said she had illegal storm affinity. We never saw her again." His voice cracked. "She'd be about your age now. So if helping you means one girl survives what the Council does to people... then I helped."
My throat tightened. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just live. That's the best revenge against bastards like them."
He disappeared into the storm before I could respond.
I drank the storm-root extract—bitter and burning—and felt warmth spread through my frozen limbs. The pain in my left arm faded to a dull ache. Not gone, but manageable.
I could work with manageable.
The climb continued. Through the Middle Tiers' winding streets. Up the grand staircase that led to the Apex Citadel's lower districts. Each step harder than the last.
The wind grew stronger. The rain fell harder. Lightning cracked constantly now, illuminating everything in brief flashes of crimson light that made the world look like it was drowning in blood.
"Turn back!" someone shouted from a doorway. "You'll die out there!"
I didn't turn back.
"She's crazy!" another voice yelled.
Maybe I was. Probably I was. But crazy people sometimes accomplished impossible things.
The Apex Citadel rose before me—the floating palace where I'd lived my entire life until three months ago. Where my father had disowned me. Where Cassiel had betrayed me. Where Seraphine had stolen everything I was.
I wanted to burn it all down.
Soon, maybe I could.
But first I had to reach the Spire.
I took a route through the servant quarters, avoiding the main streets where Storm Guards might still be patrolling. My feet found paths I'd memorized as a child—shortcuts I'd used to sneak away from tutors, hidden stairs I'd discovered while exploring.
Being raised here meant knowing its secrets.
"Stop right there!"
My heart sank. A Storm Guard stepped from the shadows, her hand on her lightning-rod weapon. Young, maybe my age, looking terrified of the storm but determined to do her duty.
"It's past curfew," she said. "Everyone should be in shelters. I need to see your identification papers."
I didn't have papers. Didn't have anything that proved I existed anymore.
"Please," I said, putting every ounce of desperation I felt into the word. "I'm just trying to reach my family. They're in the upper districts. I got separated—"
"During a Crimson Storm? That's incredibly—" She stopped, really looking at me for the first time. Her eyes went wide. "Wait. You're... you're her. The Stormwrought traitor. Aelindra."
"That's not my name anymore."
"You're supposed to be in the Lower Drifts! How did you—" She drew her weapon. "You're under arrest!"
I moved faster than I thought possible. Grabbed her weapon arm, twisted it, sent her stumbling backward. The lightning-rod clattered to the ground.
"I don't want to hurt you," I said quickly. "But I'm not stopping. Not now. Not when I'm this close."
"Close to what?"
"Becoming something they'll regret not killing when they had the chance."
I ran before she could recover.
Shouts erupted behind me—she was calling for backup. Of course she was. I'd just assaulted a Storm Guard.
But the storm was too loud, too chaotic. Her voice got lost in the wind.
I climbed higher, my legs burning, my lungs screaming for air that wasn't full of rain. Past the noble mansions, past the Council Hall, past everything I'd once called home.
The Tempest Spire loomed above me now—so close I could see the ancient runes carved into its dark stone, glowing faintly with storm-magic.
Almost there.
Just a little further.
That's when the lightning struck the bridge in front of me.
Not crimson lightning—white-hot and deliberate, hitting the exact spot where I would have stepped. The wooden planks exploded into splinters.
I skidded to a stop at the edge, staring at the twenty-foot gap that now separated me from the Spire's base.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, NO!"
I'd come so far. Climbed for hours through the deadliest storm in decades. Survived everything the wind and rain and exhaustion could throw at me.
And now a gap I couldn't possibly cross stood between me and my goal.
"It's not fair!" I screamed at the sky. "I've lost everything! I have nothing left! Just let me have this! Just let me—"
The voice spoke then, cutting through my despair:
Jump.
I froze. It was the same voice from before—the one that had guided me here. The prince who'd been waiting seventy years to awaken.
You want power? You want revenge? Then prove you're willing to risk everything for it. Jump.
"I can't make that distance!"
Not with your old power. But you're not that weak noble girl anymore, are you? You broke the seals. You woke me. Now trust yourself and JUMP.
This was insane. This was suicide.
This was exactly the kind of thing someone with nothing left to lose would do.
I backed up ten steps. Took a deep breath.
And ran toward the gap.
My feet left the edge of the platform. For one weightless moment, I hung in the air with nothing but storm and emptiness below me.
Then I felt it—that wild magic I'd released when the seals broke. It answered my silent scream, rushing through my body like liquid lightning.
Wind surged beneath me. Not pushing me up, exactly, but catching me. Carrying me.
I flew.
Not gracefully. Not controlled. But enough.
My hands caught the far edge of the broken bridge. I hauled myself up with strength I didn't know I had left.
"Yes!" I laughed wildly, high on adrenaline and impossible success. "YES!"
Well done, little exile. You're stronger than you know. Now finish the climb. The storm is almost ready.
I sprinted the last distance to the Tempest Spire's entrance. The door stood open, just like in my vision, waiting.
Thunder shook the entire realm—so loud that windows shattered in the Apex Citadel behind me. The sky turned completely crimson, like the heavens themselves were bleeding.
I stepped through the doorway and onto the spiral staircase.
The moment I did, the voice spoke again—but this time, it sounded different. Urgent. Almost... afraid?
Listen to me carefully. When you reach the summit, when the lightning strikes, it will hurt beyond anything you've ever felt. Your body will try to shut down. Your mind will beg you to let go.
"I won't let go."
That's not what I'm worried about. A pause, heavy with meaning. I'm worried about what happens after. When I truly awaken. When our souls bind together.
"What do you mean?"
I mean that seventy years of torture has made me into something cold and cruel and absolutely merciless. I will use you, manipulate you, push you to become a weapon for my revenge. And you'll let me, because your rage mirrors my own.
"So?"
So I'm giving you one last chance to turn back. Because once this bond forms, there's no breaking it. You'll carry me in your heart until one of us dies. And I've been very hard to kill.
I kept climbing, my footsteps echoing in the empty tower.
"Good," I said. "Because I don't want someone kind in my heart. I don't want someone gentle who'll talk me out of revenge. I want exactly what you are—cold, cruel, and absolutely merciless. I want power that will make them regret every lie, every betrayal, every moment they thought they'd destroyed me."
You say that now. But when you feel my memories, my pain, seventy years of consciousness scattered across storms I couldn't control—
"I'll survive it. Just like I survived falling from the Citadel. Just like I survived three months in the Lower Drifts." I reached the halfway point and kept going. "You're not the only one who's been tortured, Prince Raelith. The only difference is you had seventy years. I had three months. But I learned fast."
Silence from the voice. Then, quietly:
We're going to be magnificent together. Or we'll destroy each other trying.
"Either way sounds fine to me."
I climbed higher, toward the summit, toward the storm, toward whatever came next.
Behind me, lightning struck the Citadel, and I could swear I heard screaming.
They were starting to realize what I was doing.
Too late to stop me now.