Page 15 of Rebel's Fated Mate

"Imperials coming," I whispered urgently to them, motioning for them to follow me. "There's about a dozen coming from the west. Warn everyone, but I will take care of it."

The other rebels nodded seriously and got ready for a fight. They grabbed their weapons and prepared to defend themselves. But even as they got ready, I could tell that they might not be able to handle the well-trained Imperial soldiers.

I felt a powerful urge building up inside me, the same feeling that had turned me into a fierce bear in past battles. It was like my body was telling me to fight before any blood was spilled.

Then, I heard shouts and screams coming from where the Imperials were. They had found us and were charging toward the camp. Even from where I stood, I could see the shock on their faces when they saw me transforming into a bear.

My bones cracked and shifted as I changed shape, muscles growing and fur covering my body until I was a huge bear standing on two legs. The leader of the Imperials looked terrified, and the other Imperials panicked too, but it was too late. I attacked them with all my strength, tearing through their armor and flesh like it was nothing. Their screams mixed with the sounds of battle as I fought relentlessly, fueled by rage and the need to protect my new allies.

The lead scout, an officer by his lavish enameled gorget, backpedaled with an ashen expression of primal dismay. "B-by the gods...Captain Westborn...the traitor has joined forces with the rebels!"

His comrades echoed the alarm with shrill cries of their own, wavering in those first crucial moments of instinctual self-preservation overriding tactical discipline. A fatal mistake, as I had already launched into an earth-shaking charge directly toward them.

My first swipe caught the officer along the side, shearing through his ornate armor like mere paper and spraying a bloody arc of vitality in its wake. Screams tore through the clearing, swiftly drowned beneath the percussive frenzy of sharp claws against flesh-and-bone.

Relentless, remorseless, I carved through their ranks in a scarlet blur, heedless of the feeble strikes raining against my hide. Soldiers were trampled, shredded, their death cries crunching beneath paw and claws, accompanied only by my bellows of exultant rage.

As the final Imperial fell to my violent ministrations, I reared back on my haunches with a primordial roar of victory.

The rapid drumming of bootsteps behind drew my attention as the rebels, emboldened by my one-sided slaughter, rushed to encircle the remains of their fallen foes.

Their weapons remained at the ready, though whether to attack or defend from this manifestation of ancient fury given physical form, I could not rightly tell.

A tiny, wizened form pushed through their ranks—Annis herself, implacable in her conviction. Her piercing, colorless eyes betrayed neither fear nor shock, but rather a simmering anticipation as she studied my dire bear form with frank appraisal.

At her side strode her lithe, Sylphlike daughter Lyra...a blue-eyed beauty with sun-kissed tresses framing her striking face. Still, she held no flame to the searing memory of my mysterious dream walker guide.

"So, I see for myself now. Everything the legends said about you were true," she said, both her and Lyra looking at me with admiration. "You are indeed the descendant of our ancestors, the one we've been waiting for, Kael."

I shook myself back to my human form as Annis beckoned me to follow with a curt gesture. The other rebels gave us a wide berth, their expressions ranging from outright awe to uneasy trepidation as I fell into step beside the wizened rebel leader.

Lyra trailed slightly behind, her gaze[MN30]never wavering from my towering form.

We walked in tense silence until reaching Annis' personal tent[MN31]—a spacious, albeit spartan dwelling set slightly apart from the main rebel encampment.

Once inside amid the flickering glow of gentle lamps, the[MN32] rebel matriarch wasted no time cutting to the heart of the matter.

"You have borne witness to the emergence of your truest aspect," she began in her rasping timbre. "The dire bear, living avatar of bur'dun'dal—the ancestral bloodline that once safeguarded the harmony of these lands."

Annis saw I was about to protest and raised a gnarled hand for silence.

"Wait, Westborn. For there are greater forces at work here, upheavals and tribulations that will soon be made abundantly clear." Her colorless eyes bored into me, twin sparks of simmering conviction. "You were sent to us by the turning of ages, a harbinger of the realm's impending rebirth whether you yet realize it or not."

From the folds of her robes, she produced a tarnished bronze astrolabe, its intricately etched surfaces glinting with strange geometries and spherical alignments. "This is but one of many relics and prophecies that have guided our struggle against the usurpers for generations untold. And all cosmic signs point to the path ahead, one which will require the Weaver's magic to walk."

My breath caught at that appellation—the same mantle borne by the emerald-eyed siren of my dreamscape reveries. Annis must have noted my reaction, for her lined features twitched in a phantom of a grim smile.

"So, you have had the vision-gifted murmurings as well, good. Then you understand the stakes, the gravity toward which we all now hurtle with each shuddering step." She traced the astrolabe's inscribed spirals with a single gnarled fingertip. "Aeloria...the cradle city whose hallowed aura sits at the confluence of every great celesti-force."

My brow furrowed as I endeavored to follow. "Aeloria? I thought it was merely a rebel stronghold, not some mythical—" [MN33]

"You mistake reality for falsehoods spun by the deceptive weave," Annis cut me off, her tone holding no rebuke, only that same relentless fervor. "The hidden city is far more than our transient headquarters or sanctuary, young one. It's like the beating heart that gives life to everything. It connects stars and planets, always holding them close together. Their power gets stronger because of Aeloria's magical connection."

Understanding blossomed within like a cosmic nova, searing away whatever protestation I might formulate. Of course...the dreams, my awakened state, the profound gravity of it all. This was no mere struggle of nation against nation, but the very fabric of existence rent asunder by the offenses perpetrated against its immutable balance.

And from the sound of it, Aeloria stood at the heart of the celestial harmonics required to restore that balance. Which in turn meant the Weaver—my fiery-tressed vision—commanded mastery of the unfathomable powers interwoven throughout that mythological haven.

"Her..." Agraveled rasp escaped my lips before I could call it back. "The Weaver...she is the key to unlocking whatever lies dormant within Aeloria's mysteries?"

---