Page 3 of Elemental Becoming

It started with that first kiss at Velkar’s Descent. She bonded with Calryx . . . and then she kissed me.

She kissed me.

I almost pulled away. Almost.

But holding her—gods, feeling her in my arms like that—made it impossible.

And then the bond began to stir, ancient magics waking between us. Valen called itsoul threading, a tether from the age of the first riders. And that’s what it feels like, her soul brushing mine. In every breath. Every thought. Every beat of my godsdamn heart.

The bond wouldn’t let me go. It fucking refused, alive and relentless.

For that, I’ll be grateful until my last breath.

Because she is everything. And this time, nothing in this world will make me let go—curse be damned. I’ll find a way to keep her safe from it, even if it drags me into the depths of theShadow Realm.

I don’t know how long I stay lost in her eyes. Only that the world had narrowed to us—until the road rose beneath me again. I fill my lungs, willing my pulse to settle, shifting in the saddle. Ahead, Volcaris rises through the golden haze of late afternoon.

The Capital.

The place where I grew up, but it never truly felt like home. Not after Mother died. Not after Father began falling ill.

The strap of my satchel slips from my shoulder. I catch it, tighten the buckle. Inside are the secrets of the Shadow Wars. A buried history. A possible genocide. The eradication of my people—by my own clan.

Mother was a descendant of the Shadow Warden—the last Lord of the Shadow Clan. His blood, thinned over time by Fire Clan lineage, still carried enough power to pass on the Shadow Element.

And now, awakened by the bond . . . I can wield it.

I’ve only used it twice.

The first time was accidental—I was worried about Amara, after the Kethraki ambushed her mid-flight with Calryx. She returned to training too soon. I know she was cleared. I know she insisted. But she looked too pale. Too breakable.

I was in my study when it happened. Thoughts of her kept bleeding into my mind while I drafted letters to the other Clan Lords—updates on her progress, her bond with Calryx—when the shadows began to curl from my fingers.

I recognized them immediately. The same smoke-dark tendrils that used to unfurl from my mother’s hands . . . when the madness took hold.

I shouted, clenching my fists. The chair toppled behind me, and the shadows vanished. If anyone knew—I can’t even imagine. No history of my experience and standing could save me. I could be ostracized, stripped of my titles, rank, respect.

The second time was different.

Amara had asked me directly if I could wield it. So I did. For her.

It came easily—too easily. The magics slid from my palms like silk, curling around us in ribbons of smoke. One tendril brushed her cheek.

I froze, terror clawing through me that it had touched her.

But she didn’t flinch.She leaned into it.

And when her brown eyes found mine, calm and so open, the tightness in my chest vanished.

I glance at Amara atop her horse, watching the road ahead. Every now and then, she sneaks a look at Lyra—still pale with purple shadows under her eyes, but awake. Alert.

Garrick’s arms circle her, steadying her in front of him.

He’s always been rakish—flirting with any woman who breathes near him. Never too serious. Always loyal first to the Phoenix Ring.

My first in command. Of the Fire Clan, like me. A brother.

But when I look at him now, he’s a man possessed, captivated by Amara’s best friend. I’ve never seen him so taken.