Page 5 of Upon Shattered Bonds

Though he nodded, the woman’s attention wasn’t fully on the youngling she’d begun healing. Around them, he could feel remnants of her ability reaching out to the other members of their clan—healing waves that were sent to anyone else who was injured. This wasn’t the first time Samuel’s ability had hurt them, and if Zeke would have to guess, he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“We’re here, Sammy,” Orson said. “Focus on us and try to breathe like we practiced. Zeke is here, too, to help out if it starts hurting again.”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy.” Zeke’s words were more for the healer than the youngling. “Let’s focus on you getting better, okay?”

Once the pain had receded and Samuel’s arm was well into healing, Zeke felt comfortable enough to begin coaching him on pulling his ability back into control. The youngling listened attentively, practicing his breathing techniques and mental exercises as Zeke had instructed.

The oppressive ability began to recede a few minutes later, and when it was entirely contained, Zeke released his Blunt.

The gift meant he could effectually vanish from psychic ‘sight’ and blunt the senses of those within his range, erasing his mental signature from view. More importantly, it could be used to leave his enemies without the aid of their supernatural abilities. The Blunt served to dismantle the offensive and defensive gifts of other Raeths if they attempted to use them against him—or anyone over whom he cast his psychic net.

Though it could be spread like a blanket over an entire area and contain all Raeth gifts, it functioned more efficiently when targeted to a specific ability. The broader the net, the less effective it’d be. When it worked to cover something as abrasive as Samuel’s gift, it was a soothing balm where there’d once been pain.

The moment Samuel was fully healed, the ten-year-old threw his arms around Zeke’s neck and squeezed tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, little man,” he replied. “I’m here for you when you need it. If your sovereign is okay with it, the next time you lose control or think you might, you can telepath me directly.”

One glance at Orson confirmed it.

Samuel’s mother, a dark-haired woman who typically wore a kind smile, emerged from the house with wide eyes and tears running down her cheeks. She scampered down the steps toward where the group now stood, droplets of blood on her forehead.

“Sammy? Sammy, are you okay?”

The healer asked, “What happened?”

“When he got hurt and his ability kicked in, I collapsed and smacked my head on the table,” she said a moment before sweeping her son into a hug. “Are you okay, baby?”

Orson stood. “He is now, but I should check on the rest of my clan. Thanks for coming, Zeke. As always, we’re indebted to you.”

Zeke shook his head. “There’s no debt between us, Orson. Not for this. Anytime you need me, I’ll come.”

Assured everything was once more under control, he winked at Samuel and teleported back to the jiu-jitsu studio. This time, the shrieks that met his ears were vibrant: competitive, joyful, and full of energy. Zeke hoped no one would be injured here today.

Children of all ages tumbled around him. The youngest of the group was four, the shy daughter of a local werewolf couple. The oldest was several weeks away from turning eighteen. There were somewhere between ten and twenty younglings who attended training with them on a weekly basis.

When the Peace Accords had begun several years ago, he’d opened up communication with the local werewolf pack. The group was much smaller than his clan, but they had a handful of kids under eighteen. Seeing it as an opportunity for good interspecies relations, he’d arranged for them to get to know each other.

As friendships developed, some of them began attending Zeke’s weekly sparring lessons, and it’d expanded from there. Raeths and werewolves from other parts of the continent had begun attending when word got around, including several children from the Elemental community Paracel. Practices were the only times Zeke allowed anyone to enter his territory without notifying him beforehand.

Tzuriel was currently sparring with one of the sixteen-year-olds. This lesson was part of the basics and one either of them could teach.

Aside from being his cousin, Tzuriel was his second in command. Though he was an adrenaline junkie and lived by the seat of his pants more often than not, he was a good man to have in your corner. He was the counterbalance to Zeke’s realism when it tended toward pessimism. Tzuriel and his mate, Annika, never failed to keep him on track.

A quick glance around the gym showed familiar faces—but he hadn’t been expecting to see Kaien, Nina’s twin and second in command, in attendance today. Or ever.

Kaien’s smile was hesitant, almost apologetic, and enticed his curiosity. Striding for him along the edges of the mat, he was stopped once for a hug and a second time for a few pointers. By the time he’d made it to Kaien’s side, Zeke wore a genuine smile.

He extended his hand in greeting. “Welcome to Osiris clan territory, Kaien.”

“Zeke,” he said with a firm shake, “Tzuriel said you were away cleaning up a mess.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

For a moment, companionable silence wove between them, and the nearest group of students used it to their advantage. Jace, their ringleader, approached Zeke with the bravado of a fellow sovereign. Though he wasn’t more than eight years old, he’d already shown natural leadership capabilities.

“Zeke, will you spar with me?

“But Jace, you beat me every time.”

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