Chapter 17: Chapter 16: Tethered Fates

The tears had dried on my cheeks, leaving salt tracks that pulled tight when I tried to smile. Not that I felt much like smiling. The compass lay heavy in my palm, its needle steady as a heartbeat pointing northeast—toward what, I still didn't know. But the crying had helped, somehow. Washed away the worst of the anger and fear, leaving behind something cleaner. Still painful, but manageable.

I'd been staring at the carved ceiling for what felt like hours when soft footsteps echoed in the corridor. A gentle knock preceded Elyra's voice.

"Kaela? May I come in?"

I swiped at my face one more time, though I knew she'd see the evidence anyway. "Yes."

She entered carrying a steaming cup and settled beside me on the stone platform with practised ease. The scent of chamomile and something else—something herbal and soothing—drifted up from the tea.

"Thought you might need this," she said, offering the cup.

I accepted it gratefully, wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic. The heat seeped through my palms, a small comfort that somehow made the chamber feel less cold and empty.

"Thank you." I took a careful sip, letting the warmth spread through my chest. The herbs were bitter but not unpleasant, and I could feel some of the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. "I'm sorry I sent you all away like that."

"Don't apologise." Elyra's voice carried no judgment, only understanding. "You needed time to process. We all would have."

I glanced at her sideways, studying the lines of worry around her eyes, the careful way she held herself. "Are you afraid? Of what you've done?"

She was quiet for a long moment, considering. "Afraid?" She tilted her head slightly. "Not of the link itself. But afraid of what it means for you—the pressure, the responsibility. Yes, I'm afraid of that."

"I never asked for this." The words came out smaller than I intended, like a child's complaint.

"No," she agreed gently. "You didn't. None of us did.”

I took another sip of tea, using the time to gather my thoughts. "Tell me about the boundary link. I need to understand what you've done."

Elyra shifted, her healer's hands folding in her lap. "It's an old ritual, one the Sentinels haven't used in generations. We learned about it from the archives, but we never thought..." She shook her head. "It creates a shared boundary between the storm-bearer and willing participants. Our life force helps reinforce your connection to your storm, making it harder for outside forces to sever that bond."

"And if something happens to me?"

"The link would likely drain us, possibly kill us." She said it matter-of-factly, like discussing the weather. "But Kaela, you have to understand—we made that choice willingly. All of us."

I stared into my tea, watching the steam curl upward. "Why?"

"Because you're different." Her voice grew more animated, almost excited. "Not just your storm—though that's remarkable—but the way you carry it. The way you fight for it instead of against it."

"I don't understand the difference."

"Most storm-bearers we've encountered, they see their storm as something to be controlled, dominated. Like a wild horse that needs breaking." She leaned forward, her eyes bright with something I couldn't quite name. "But you... You're learning to work with yours. To listen to it."

That gave me pause. I thought about the moments when my storm had acted on its own—protecting me from the first Hunter, responding to my emotions, the way it had wrapped around me in the void like an embrace. It didn't feel like something separate from me, not anymore. It felt like... a part of me that had its own thoughts and feelings.

"It does feel that way," I admitted quietly. "Like it's trying to communicate with me."

"Maybe that’s why…" Elyra trailed off, like she was having difficulty putting things into words.

“Whatever hunting you now, they know you’re dangerous to them.”

I looked up sharply. "You believe me? About being specifically targeted?"

"After what happened tonight? How something tried to separate you from your storm?" Elyra nodded grimly. "Something is definitely hunting you, and it's not just another corrupted bearer. I believe so."

For once, I was relieved to hear it.

"I need to talk to the others," I said, setting down the empty cup. "I need to understand everything—the link, what's hunting me, what this compass really does."

Elyra smiled, the expression transforming her tired features. "I was hoping you'd say that."

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The common hall felt different when I entered it, though I couldn't immediately identify why. The same fire crackled in the hearth, the same worn furniture occupied the space, but something had shifted. Maybe it was me—the way I could feel those invisible threads connecting me to each person in the room, pulsing with shared energy.

They were all there, arranged in a loose circle around the fire. Flynn looked up first, relief flooding his features when he saw me walking steadily. Thalia rose from her chair, her expression cautious but hopeful.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better. Confused, but better." I moved to the empty chair they'd left for me, noting how they'd positioned it so I could see everyone clearly. "I need to understand what we're dealing with—all of it."

"Where would you like to start?" Daro asked, his deep voice gentle.

I pulled out the compass, setting it on the small table between us. The needle swung lazily before settling into its northeastern bearing. "With this. And with what happened tonight."

Riven leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on the compass. "That's no ordinary navigation tool."

"No, of course." I traced one of the etched symbols with my fingertip. "My mother said it belonged to my father, but I think there's more to it than that."

They remain silent, waiting for me to continue.

"When I was little—three years old—I have this memory of him leaving. He had this compass with him, and he almost gave it to me, but then changed his mind." I looked up at their faces, seeing the focused attention there. "He said something about me needing to find my own path first, and that when other bearers called to me, then I'd be ready for it."

Gesturing back at the compass, I continued.

"The compass only started working after you performed the boundary link. Before that, it just spun endlessly." I picked it up again, feeling the subtle pull toward the northeast. "Now it's pointing somewhere specific."

"A gathering point," Thalia murmured, understanding dawning on her face. "Or a way to find others like you."

"That's what I think, too." I set the compass down carefully. "But there's something else. Something about my storm that's different from what you've encountered before."

They waited, and I could feel their attention like a physical weight. Even Riven had set aside his usual guardedness, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"It's conscious," I said simply. "My storm—it thinks, it feels, it makes decisions. Tonight, when I was lost in that void, it found me. It fought to bring me back."

"Conscious how?" Riven asked, his gaze was sharp.

"It responds to my emotions, but not just as a reflection. It has its own... personality, I suppose. When I was eight, I followed a breeze into the forest and met something—a spirit, a presence—that spoke to me. I thought it was just a dream, but now I think it was my storm trying to introduce itself."

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Daro frowned. "We've never encountered anything like that before."

"Which is why I think I'm being hunted specifically," I continued. "Not just because I'm a storm-bearer, but because of what kind of storm-bearer I am."

"And tonight," Flynn added, "something tried to separate you from your storm entirely. That's not how corruption usually works."

"Exactly." I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of their attention and the invisible threads that now connected us. "So I need to understand what you've done with this boundary link. How it works, what it means, what the risks are."

Thalia exchanged glances with the others before speaking. "The link creates a shared boundary between you and us. Think of it like... a rope bridge. If your connection to your storm starts to fray, we can help reinforce it with our own life force."

"But it goes both ways," Riven added bluntly. "If your storm becomes corrupted, that corruption could spread to us through the link."

"And if I die?"

"The link would drain us," Elyra said quietly. "Possibly fatally."

I absorbed this information, feeling the weight of their sacrifice settle over me like a heavy cloak. "You did this knowing the risks."

"We did it because you're our best hope," Thalia said firmly. "Not just for your own survival, but for understanding what's happening to storm-bearers. Why they're being hunted, why corruption is spreading, what we can do to stop it."

"The compass," Flynn said suddenly, pointing at it. "It's moving."

We all looked down. The needle was indeed swinging, tracing a slow arc from northeast to east and back again.

"It's never done that before," I said, reaching for it. The moment my fingers touched the brass casing, the movement stopped, the needle settling firmly on northeast again.

"It's responding to you," Daro observed. "To your storm, or your emotions, or both."

"Maybe it's responding to the boundary link," Elyra suggested. "To the connection between all of us."

I studied the compass thoughtfully. "Or maybe it's responding to something else. Something moving toward us."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees, and I saw Flynn glance toward the windows instinctively.

"The Hunters," Riven said, his hand moving to the knife at his belt. "They've been more active lately, more coordinated."

"They know where I am," I said with sudden certainty. "Whatever tried to separate me from my storm tonight—it was searching for me. And now it knows where to find me."

Thalia stood, her expression grim. "Then we need to decide what we're going to do about it."

I looked around at their faces—worried but determined, afraid but resolute—and felt something settle in my chest. Not peace, exactly, but purpose. They had bound themselves to me, tied their fates to mine, and I couldn't let that sacrifice be in vain.

"I think we need to follow the compass," I said, standing up. " If it's really pointing toward other bearers, then maybe…” I trailed off, studying the look in their face.

"Maybe they have more answers than we do."

"Absolutely not." Riven's response was immediate and sharp. "You can barely walk without collapsing, and you want to go chasing shadows in the wilderness?"

"It's not chasing shadows," I shot back. "This thing has been spinning uselessly for years, and now suddenly it works? That's not a coincidence."

"It's also not a guarantee," Thalia said, her voice deliberately calm. "The compass could be pointing toward anything—another bearer, yes, but also a trap, or something far worse than what we've already faced."

"So we just sit here? Wait for whatever's hunting me to get tired and go away?"

"We prepare," Daro rumbled. "We train you properly—"

"Train me for what?" I whirled to face him, the compass clutched tight in my fist. "To hide better? To be more afraid? I'm tired of being afraid!"

The words came out louder than I'd intended, echoing off the stone walls. My storm responded to the surge of emotion, sending a ripple of energy through the room that made the fire flicker and dance.

"Kaela," Elyra said gently, "we understand your frustration—"

"No, you don't." I could feel the boundary threads pulling at me, their concern and worry washing over me in waves, and it only made me more determined. "You all chose this life. You became Sentinels, knowing what it meant. I didn't choose anything. My storm just... happened to me. My father left me with this useless compass and disappeared. Lior died because of what I am. And now you've tied your lives to mine without even asking if I wanted that responsibility."

The silence that followed was heavy and uncomfortable. I could see the impact of my words on their faces—guilt, hurt, understanding.

'I'm going,' I said quietly but firmly. 'I need answers, and this compass is my only lead.'

"You'll die out there," Riven said bluntly.

"Maybe. But I'd rather die knowing that I tried to understand who I am than just cower in a cave.'

My intention was met with silence once more. I watched as they realised how serious I was.

Flynn cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence.

"Kaela's right. It's better than her being hauled up here, waiting for the Hunters to arrive."

"You want her to go on a suicide mission?" Riven challenged.

"I'm not suggesting she goes alone," Flynn replied, shooting Riven a sharp look. "I'm talking about a short-range scout. Follow the compass for a day, see what we find, and then turn back."

"One day?" I demanded. "That's not enough time to—"

"It's what you'll get," Thalia interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "And only if you can prove you're stable enough for travel."

"I'm stable."

"You collapsed three hours ago," Riven pointed out.

"That was because something was actively attacking my storm," I snapped. "I'm fine now."

"Prove it," Thalia said simply.

I stared at her, then at the others. They were all watching me with the same expression—not quite challenging, but definitely testing. Waiting to see if I would throw a tantrum like a child or actually demonstrate the control they claimed to be teaching me.

Fine.

I closed my eyes and reached for my storm, feeling it respond immediately to my call. Instead of the wild, chaotic energy I was used to, it felt... different. More settled, but also more eager. Like it had been waiting for me to ask for its help rather than just bracing against its power.

Opening my eyes, I extended my hand toward the dying fire. A controlled stream of wind flowed from my palm, feeding the flames until they danced higher and brighter. Then I shifted my focus to the compass, letting my storm sense the pull of whatever lay northeast.

The needle didn't just point—it practically hummed with purpose.

"It's not just showing direction," I said, my voice steady despite the energy coursing through me. "It's showing urgency. Whatever it's pointing toward, it wants me to find it soon."

"How do you know that?" Elyra asked, leaning forward with professional interest.

"The same way I know when my storm is happy or worried or angry," I replied, keeping the wind flowing steadily toward the fire. "It has... moods. Intentions. And right now, it's practically pulling me northeast."

I closed my hand, cutting off the wind, and the fire settled back to its normal size. My storm calmed as well, but I could still feel its eager attention focused in that same direction.

"That's... actually impressive control," Daro admitted grudgingly.

"The boundary link is working," Thalia observed. "Your connection is much more stable than it was even this morning."

"Which means I can handle a scouting trip," I said, pressing my advantage. "And the link won't last forever anyway, right?” My gaze shifted to Elyra. “You said it’s temporary?"

"The boundary link will fade as your storm stabilises," Elyra confirmed. "It's meant to support you while you develop your own strength, not replace it permanently."

"So you're saying I need to learn to stand on my own eventually."

"Yes," Thalia said carefully.

"Then let me start now." I held up the compass, its needle pointing steadily northeast. "One day out, one day back. If we don't find anything useful, we turn around."

Riven was already shaking his head, but Flynn spoke up first.

"I could scout ahead," he offered. "Make sure the path is clear, check for Hunter signs."

"And I know the corruption patterns better than anyone," Riven added reluctantly. "If we do encounter other bearers..."

"So you'll come?" I asked, hope rising in my chest.

"Against my better judgment," he muttered.

Thalia looked around the circle, reading the same resignation in the others' faces that I could feel through the boundary threads. They didn't like it, but they could see I wasn't going to be talked out of it.

"Two days," she said finally. "One day out, one day back. At the first sign of serious danger, you retreat."

"Agreed."

"And if your condition worsens—if the corruption flares or your storm becomes unstable—the mission ends immediately."

"Fine."

"And you follow Flynn's lead on navigation and Riven's on security. No arguments, no heroics."

I nodded eagerly. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow evening," Thalia decided. "Travel at night when your storm is stronger and Hunters are less active. But Kaela—" She leaned forward, her expression serious. "This isn't a game. If something goes wrong out there, the boundary link might not be enough to save you."

"I understand." I looked around at their faces—worried, protective, but no longer dismissive. "I know you think I'm being reckless, but I can't just sit here waiting for answers to come to me. Not when I have a way to go find them."

The silence that followed was different from before—not resistance, but resignation mixed with a strange kind of hope. Through the boundary threads, I could feel their emotions shifting, their fear for me mingling with something that might have been pride.

"There's one more thing," Elyra said quietly. "The boundary link... It's not just about sharing life force. It creates a form of communication between us. If you're in serious danger, we might be able to sense it, even at a distance."

"How far?" Flynn asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Unknown," Thalia admitted. "The ritual hasn't been used in living memory. There wasn’t much record of it either."

I clutched the compass tighter, feeling its steady pull toward the northeast. Whatever waited for me out there—other bearers, answers about my father, or simply more questions—I had to find it. The alternative was to remain trapped in this cycle of fear and ignorance, waiting for the corruption to claim me or the Hunters to find me.

And I have had enough of remaining there.