Page 68 of Storms of His Wrath

“Can’t I come, too?” Nnimi asked, her lower lip jutting out in a pout that reminded Naya achingly of Lili at that age.

“Not this time, Nnimi,” Naya said gently, pressing a kiss to the top of Nnimi’s head. “But we’ll see each other later, if there’s time.”

Nnimi nodded reluctantly, letting her mother shepherd her outside, a honey cake clutched in her small hands.

Oshrun led Naya through the winding passages toward the assembly chamber, their footsteps quick and purposeful.Other Omegas moved through the corridors with unusual urgency, word of the emergency meeting spreading through the community like ripples in still water.

“They’ll want details,” Oshrun said quietly as they climbed toward the upper levels. “But some will demand to know every risk, every potential consequence.”

“I know,” Naya replied, though her stomach churned at the thought of explaining Akoro’s solution to women who’d spent their lives hiding from cruelty, and especially this particular Alpha’s family’s cruelty

They reached the familiar circular chamber where golden sunlight streamed down through the natural opening above. The twelve stone seats arranged in their perfect circle held the same women Naya had faced before, but now that the storm was so close, tension radiated from every figure. The assembly members—some Naya recognized, others still unfamiliar—watched her with sharp attention.

“Princess,” Oshrun said formally as they entered, “the assembly awaits your proposal.”

Naya moved to the stone bench at the circle’s center, every eye following her movement. The collective gaze settled over her, but she straightened her spine and met their stares directly.

“Thank you for convening so quickly,” Naya began, her voice stronger than she expected. “What I’m about to propose may be our only chance to stop thennin-eellithistorm. But I won’t lie to you—it’s dangerous, and it requires us to trust in methods that carry... complicated history.”

She drew a steadying breath. “King Sy has proposed a solution that combines my magical abilities with an ancient binding technique. Instead of trying to destroy or deflect the storm, we would draw all thennin-eellithiin the region to a single location—the Nnin-kka Sands—and bind them there permanently using a modifiednnol ttaehh mael.”

Gasps erupted around the chamber, followed by a silence that made the air brittle. Several assembly members leaned back in shock, while others shook their heads in horror. Ttela had gone completely still, her features carved from stone. Even Yshara was speechless.

“You’re suggesting,” said the woman with intricate tattoos marking her temples, her voice carefully controlled, “that we trust an Alpha to perform the proximity binding?”

“Not on a person,” Naya clarified quickly. “The technique would be modified—instead of binding someone to remain close, it would bind the magic to the sand—the Nnin-kka Sands where it originally belonged.”

“Impossible,” Ttela said flatly. “Thennol ttaehh maelrequires a living connection to function. Blood, breath, heartbeat—the binding needs something animated to anchor to. You cannot bind magic to empty sand.”

A younger assembly member with curious dark eyes spoke up. “But the Nnin-kka Sands aren’t empty, are they? They contain the Sand Pits, and those are already magical conduits. If the curse targeted the existing magical infrastructure rather than the sand itself...”

“You’re talking about binding wild magic to contained magic,” said another woman, her expression troubled. “That’s forced confinement. The magical pressure alone could shatter every Sand Pit in the region.”

“Which is a lesser devastation than the storm hitting Onn Kkulma,” another Omega with straight black hair added.

Oshrun leaned forward in her carved seat. “Princess, explain your role in this plan. How would you gather all thennin-eellithito one location?”

“Using my awareness and the modified staff you created for me,” Naya said, “I can sense thennin-eellithiacross vast distances, their moods and intentions. The plan is to draw themlike a beacon—make myself irresistible to every piece of wild magic in the region—and lead them to the binding site.”

“Where King Sy would be waiting to perform the custom?” Ttela said, her understanding sharp as a blade. “You’re describing a convergence of wild magic unlike anything we’ve seen since the first wave of destruction. And you want to stand at the center of it?”

“We both would be,” Naya admitted. “The binding requires proximity. We’d both be at enormous risk.”

The assembly erupted into urgent whispers in Shtonma and Common Tongue, voices overlapping as the implications became clear. Naya caught fragments—discussions of magical theory, references to historical disasters, debates about the feasibility of such massive binding work.

“The blood requirement,” said Yshara, addressing Naya directly. “For the nnol ttaehh mael to bind magic rather than flesh, whose blood would anchor the custom?”

The question struck Naya like ice. In all their planning, they hadn’t discussed the blood component. Traditional proximity binding required the subject’s blood to create the connection—but if they were binding magic to a place rather than a person...

“I... we haven’t determined that yet,” she admitted, hating how the uncertainty made her sound. “I was hoping the assembly’s knowledge of the binding custom could help us determine the best approach. You understand these techniques far better than I do.”

A sharp voice cut through the chamber from Naya’s left. “You’re asking us to risk everything on a plan you haven’t fully thought through?” The speaker was a woman with steel-gray eyes and blonde hair, her whole body blazing with indignation. “You stand before us proposing to gather every piece of wild magic in the region into one location, and you don’t even know whose blood would anchor the custom?”

Heat flooded Naya’s face, but she forced herself to remain calm. The woman was right—she and Akoro had been so focused on the breakthrough of reversing the technique that they’d missed crucial details.

“You’re asking our daughters to trust their lives to incomplete planning, to recklessness,” the woman continued, her voice rising. “Asking us to believe in a solution that could kill everyone if one element goes wrong.”

Naya’s mind raced, thinking through everything she’d heard about thennol ttaehh maeland the magical infrastructure of the region. Then she remembered what Akoro had said about his cousin. “The blood component isn’t necessary,” she said suddenly. “If we’re binding the magic back to where it belongs, and if we’re considering it a living thing, all we need is a sliver of the wild magic itself.”

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