Chapter 30: Jomin’s Bloodline

Jomin and Kren walked a little ways ahead of the rest. The Lyndwyrms had stayed back in the safety of the trees, and by now the party had covered more than half the distance to the ridge. Without anything actively hunting them, there was no reason to rush and burn energy they might badly need for whatever waited on the other side — assuming, of course, that anything Jomin said could be trusted. Kren had no intention of drawing conclusions that might unravel everything he’d come here to accomplish.

"I’m grateful to you— for saving me, and my servants. Things have been tense back in the village lately. Most of it comes down to my father’s ambitions." Kren raised an eyebrow at that.

Jomin glanced at him, then laughed under his breath. "I should probably cut to the point and make things clearer. It looks like my sister and her people have already spotted us." He tilted his head toward the ridge, where nearly a dozen Storm Eagle riders were descending on the backs of massive mountain goats, hooves kicking up loose earth as they came closer.

Kren angled his head slightly, and the rest of his party closed the distance behind him without needing to be told. "Whatever you have to say, say it fast. And don’t play games with me — if you want my help, you’d better be sincere about it." Jomin nodded. He hadn’t planned on being anything but sincere in the first place; for all his youth,and Jomin could tell Kren wasn’t that much older than him. The N’Kora clearly wasn’t the type with patience for small talk.

"My sister Pina is the eldest, and my father’s favorite. She was also born with an unusually high bloodline grade — one of the first purebred Storm Eagles born since we lost our kingdom crest to the falcons. If we ever manage to reclaim a crest, she’s strong enough to lead our people back to what we once were. Back to our former glory." Jomin paused, something harder settling behind his eyes. "And ultimately... revenge." Jomin settled into a steady silence, as if trying to figure out how to continue.

"Revenge against who?" Kren asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. But something told him he was not going to like whatever came out of Jomin’s mouth next. The younger boy took a deep breath and continued.

"My people lost their kingdom crest a hundred and fifty years ago. A campaign sanctioned by the Zar Draconic Empire, led by their most feared general at the time. The Lion of the Wind. King Gamade N’kora Blackmane."

Kren couldn’t hold it back — he burst out laughing. It clearly caught Jomin off guard, but how could he not laugh? He’d come to these mountains hoping to walk away with allies, with people willing to take up arms beside him against a shared enemy. Instead, it turned out the N’korans themselves were the shared enemy. His own grandfather had been the spear tip, that pushed them to such a squalid existence.

That explained a great deal — the distrust, the careful looks Jomin and his people had been throwing his way since the moment he’d saved their lives, and then announced they were envoys from the Nkorans.

"There’s no one strong enough within my clan to genuinely threaten you." Jomin continued once Kren’s laughter faded. "That’s not to say you couldn’t be poisoned in your sleep, or that someone from a rival suitor’s camp won’t try something first. But that’s not even the real problem here. It was never really just the Lyndwyrms." He let out a tired sigh.

"I was born nine years after my sister. With a bloodline stronger than hers — strong enough that the shamans of our clan named me the incarnation of a sovereign beast. The destined king of all avians." Jomin gave a hollow, self-mocking laugh.

"It might have been fine, if I’d been born earlier. Or if my mother hadn’t been a wolf-kin from the archipelagos in the far north. Half the clan still can’t understand how my bloodline runs this pure when it’s supposedly ’diluted’ with another tribe’s blood."

Toa made a strangled sound beside them — understandable, given his own history. Most tribes carried a certain xenophobia, Kren knew that much, but he hadn’t realized it ran deep enough that people would deny the purity of someone’s bloodline purely on account of their mother’s origins. Still, that wasn’t even the part of this conversation that had truly caught him off guard.

"Your mother was a wolf-tribeswoman? From beyond the mountains? I didn’t even know there was land past here." Kren admitted.

Jomin raised an eyebrow, then shrugged easily. "Can’t blame you for that. The Zar Draconic Empire sits in the northwest corner of the continent — most cartographers mark the Storm Mountains as the northern edge of everything. But there’s an archipelago further north still. My mother told me stories about it — dozens of islands, whole beast tribes living out there that most of the mainland’s never heard of. The ocean between here and there is brutal, though. Filled with beasts and monsters of the sort, you’d only find in nightmares and ravings of mad men. The ocean is practically impossible to cross safely. She only made it here because her ship wrecked, and she drifted until the current brought her to our shores." He paused, a small, genuine smile breaking through. "And yes — she was a wolf-tribeswoman. Had the most beautiful inner beast I’ve ever seen in my life. I remember her fondly. She was a good mother."

Both young men settled into a heavy silence after that. Kren caught the tense Jomin had used without meaning to — was. Past tense. His mother was already gone, and the weight of that loss clearly hadn’t finished settling on him. It clung to him like a second coat, one he couldn’t quite shrug off — the same weight that seemed to drive him forward as much as it dragged him down.

"I never knew my mother." Kren said quietly, pulling Jomin’s attention back to him. "She died ten days after I was born. Due to complications from my birth. My father raised me alone until I was ten — then the empire had him executed, and I ended up raised by my stepmother instead. She’s... a lot more than that to me now, honestly."

Kren paused, as an image of his regent’s face crossed his mind, and a small smile forced it way to his lips. "Bernice is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother, even if she’d be the first to tell you she’s nothing like one." Kren let out a low chuckle, then continued.

"My father was everything to me. My earliest memory of him is him teaching me how to blow my own nose, if you can believe that. He cleaned my wounds, fed me himself even when the servants were around. Most people describe him as fierce. Harsh, but fair. They say he almost never smiled. But the father I remember only ever looked at me with warmth in his eyes. Even at the very end. That same smile never left his face — not even when the former emperor took his head off and let it roll to my feet."

The silence between them this time settled heavier, thicker — and yet, oddly, more comfortable. There was a strange kind of camaraderie in it, born from two boys who’d both grown up without the parents who should have raised them, without that particular kind of shelter most people took for granted. Something in the space between them eased, just slightly. Kren finally spoke again.

"So you threaten your sister’s legitimacy. All because you’re a Male. You also have a higher bloodline grade — half-breed status aside, that still makes you the stronger candidate to lead your people one day. That’s why she wants you dead isn’t?" Kren asked. Jomin shrugged.

"More or less. And it’s only gotten worse now that the Lyndwyrms have become an actual crisis. My father’s been wavering — enough that he set her up as the prize for whoever kills the alpha, instead of me. But make no mistake. This whole situation is a trap. And unfortunately for you, you’ve already walked straight into it."

"A trap?" Kren pressed. "What kind of trap?"

But there was no time left for an answer. The Storm Eagle riders from the ridge had already closed the distance. Aki and Fima drifted in closer around Kren on instinct, while Toa and Ruhu positioned themselves nearer the rescued Storm Eagles — a formation they’d already quietly discussed beforehand. If things went badly, the survivors they’d just pulled out of that meadow would become their only real leverage.

The lead rider brought her mount to a stop a short distance away. Bandages wrapped tightly around her head, most of her torso, and her right leg. Her eyes were a startling shade of sky blue, striking against pure white feathers woven through dark brown hair that fell from her scalp all the way down her back. Just as he’d felt the moment he first met Jomin, Kren felt it again now — that spark of recognition, one sovereign beast acknowledging another.

Except this time, something about it felt wrong. Different. And in that instant, understanding clicked into place — an understanding that, as far as he could tell, only he, Jomin, and possibly this woman in front of him currently shared.

It wasn’t that Jomin’s bloodline simply outranked his sister’s. Kren had no idea how the rest of the tribe hadn’t already pieced this together for themselves. Jomin’s bloodline wasn’t higher grade at all.

It was an entirely different bloodline altogether. Jomin didn’t carry a Storm Eagle’s inner beast.

This boy was a WOLF.