The hideout was louder than ever, but the noise wasn’t joy.
Rebels shouted across the chamber, arguments bouncing off the stone walls like thrown blades. Some slammed fists on the table, demanding immediate war. Others spoke in hushed, fearful tones, warning that Kael’s storm was as dangerous as the Dominion’s fire.
Kael sat apart, his head lowered, sparks flickering faintly along his arms. The storm within him no longer felt like power—it felt like a curse gnawing at the edges of his mind.
“He saved lives,” Mira’s voice rang above the din. “Without Kael, those families would’ve burned.”
“And how long before he burns us?” Joren snapped. His eyes cut toward Kael, sharp with distrust. “You saw it. He nearly lost control. What happens when his storm turns on us?”
Murmurs of agreement rip
