Elara's POV
"Brother?" I stared at Zephyrion. "You have a brother?"
His face had gone from white to stone. "I had a brother. Past tense. He died three hundred years ago."
The voice from below laughed—a sound like thunder rolling through a graveyard. "Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."
Footsteps echoed up the stairs. Slow. Confident. Each step made the lighthouse shake.
Zephyrion shoved me behind him, power crackling around his hands. "Stay back. Whatever comes through that door isn't the brother I knew."
"How touching. Still playing protector." The voice was closer now, just below the rooftop door. "Some things never change."
The door exploded outward in a blast of dark lightning—not silver-white like Zephyrion's, but sick green that made my stomach twist.
A man stepped onto the roof.
He looked like Zephyrion's twisted reflection. Same impossible height, same storm-marked skin, same ancient eyes. But where Zephyrion was silver and light, this Guardian was corruption given form. His hair shifted between black and green. His eyes glowed with poisonous fire. And his storm patterns didn't pulse with power—they writhed like living parasites under his skin.
"Hello, little brother." The corrupted Guardian smiled, showing too many teeth. "Eight hundred years, and you're still disgustingly noble. Still sacrificing yourself for worthless mortals."
Zephyrion's power flared dangerously. "Theron. What did they do to you?"
"They freed me." Theron's gaze slid to me, and I felt his attention like insects crawling on my skin. "Is this the Guardian-Caller? The girl who broke your chains? She's scrawny. I expected someone... impressive."
"Touch her and die," Zephyrion said quietly.
Theron laughed. "There it is. That protective fury the Storm Court has been hunting for centuries. They knew if they could corrupt one Guardian, they could use him to control the others." He spread his arms. "Congratulations, brother. Your worst fear came true. I'm their weapon now."
Through the bond, I felt Zephyrion's horror. "Fight it. You're stronger than their magic—"
"I don't want to fight it." Theron's smile widened. "For three hundred years, they've been draining my power while I screamed in chains. Then High Storm Caller Severin offered me a deal—serve him willingly, and he'd stop the torture. So I did. And you know what? Being the monster is so much better than being the victim."
"Liar. You'd never—"
"Wouldn't I?" Theron's corrupted lightning danced between his fingers. "You chose to become a Guardian. I was dragged into that transformation chamber screaming, remember? You volunteered. I was sacrificed. We are not the same."
Before Zephyrion could respond, Theron lunged.
They collided with the force of two storms crashing together. Lightning exploded across the roof. I was thrown backward, slamming into the lighthouse wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Through the bond, I felt Zephyrion's pain as Theron's corrupted magic burned wherever it touched. They fought like gods—too fast to follow, their power tearing the air itself.
"The girl!" Theron laughed, dodging Zephyrion's strike. "I'm not here for you, brother. Severin wants the Guardian-Caller alive. Well, mostly alive. He's not picky about condition."
He feinted left, then dove right—straight at me.
Zephyrion roared and intercepted him, but Theron's corrupted lightning hit my shoulder. Agony exploded through my body. The pain was wrong, unnatural, like poison spreading through my veins.
I screamed.
The bond mark blazed white-hot. Through it, I felt Zephyrion's rage—not just anger, but eight hundred years of isolation and grief and fury at a world that kept taking everything from him.
His power exploded.
The entire lighthouse shook. Windows shattered. Storm-force winds blasted outward in every direction.
When my vision cleared, Zephyrion had Theron pinned to the roof, one hand wrapped around his throat. His eyes blazed pure silver. "You. Do. Not. Touch. Her."
"There it is," Theron choked out, still smiling. "The curse activating. Your power protecting her above all else. Severin was right—you're already falling."
"Zephyrion!" I gasped through the pain in my shoulder. "Don't kill him! He's your brother!"
"He's corrupted." Zephyrion's voice was inhuman, layered with storm-fury. "There's nothing left to save."
"You don't know that!"
A new voice cut through the chaos. "Elara!"
Maren burst onto the roof, eyes wild with terror. "Storm-callers! Dozens of them surrounding the lighthouse! Duke Aldric is leading them, and—" She saw Theron and went pale. "What is that?"
"A problem," Zephyrion snarled. He looked at me, and I saw his internal war through the bond—save me or kill his corrupted brother. "We need to leave. Now."
"Can't run with her injured," Theron rasped, still pinned. "My corruption is spreading through her blood. She's got maybe an hour before it reaches her heart." His poisonous smile returned. "Unless you cure her. But that would require giving her your power directly. Bonding her even deeper. Bringing the curse closer to completion."
My shoulder burned worse. Black veins were spreading from the wound, crawling up my neck. Through the bond, I felt Zephyrion's desperation.
"There's no choice," I whispered. "Do it. Save me."
"If I bond deeper, the curse—"
"I don't care about the curse! I care about living!"
Below, the lighthouse door exploded again. Shouts. Lightning crackling. Storm-callers flooding inside.
"Touching," Theron said. "But you're too late. Severin planned for this."
More corrupted Guardians materialized on the rooftops around us. Three. Four. Five of them, all with Theron's sick green glow.
"You thought he only corrupted me?" Theron laughed as Zephyrion released him in shock. "Little brother, he has an army."
Duke Aldric's voice boomed from below. "Elara Thornwick! You're surrounded! Surrender the Guardian or watch the Hollows burn!"
Zephyrion grabbed me, his expression torn between rage and terror. The black veins were spreading faster now. I could feel the corruption eating at my magic, at the bond, at everything.
"Trust me," he said roughly.
"Always."
He pressed his hand over the bond mark on my chest. Power flooded into me—not gentle this time, but a raging storm that burned away the corruption like fire burning poison from a wound.
The bond mark blazed. The connection between us deepened, strengthened, became something more permanent.
And somewhere far above, in the Sky Citadel, High Storm Caller Severin smiled as his corruption tracker flared to life.
"Found you," he whispered.
Back at the lighthouse, as the storm-callers closed in and corrupted Guardians surrounded us, Zephyrion pulled me against his chest. His power wrapped around us like armor.
"Hold on," he commanded.
"Where are we—"
He didn't answer. Instead, he launched us off the roof in a blast of lightning that split the sky.
We shot upward like a comet, leaving the lighthouse and the Hollows far below.
Maren screamed our names.
The corrupted Guardians gave chase.
And through the bond, now burned so deep it felt like we shared one heartbeat, I felt Zephyrion's grim realization.
We weren't running from the Storm Court anymore.
We were flying straight into their trap.