The rage that he’d been fighting so hard to keep buried in the bottom of his soul burned through all his protective walls. A shout was ripped from his throat and with it came a searing burst of power that fed the boiling clouds into overflowing across the sky. The power consumed him, scorching away the last of his reservations.
The Empire needed to be destroyed.
Electricity crackled in the air. Lightning sparked and danced along his fingertips, his alone to command. With the barest thought, the wind lowered him out of the clouds so that he could now see what he’d created. Rain hammered the city and harbor. Fires were extinguished, but the fighting continued. The Empire was killing more people in their quest for the godstones. The image of the strange woman with the jagged teeth and feline eyes flashed across his mind. She had too much interest in the godstones and too much influence over the Emperor. She needed to be stopped.
But first, sink the fleet.
Caelan flung out one hand toward the ship where he’d been held captive. A bolt of lightning as thick as a thousand-year-old sequoia shot from the clouds and slammed through the deck. The lightning hammered a second time, punching straight through to the ocean floor. Alarms filled the night and water rushed in.
He turned his attention to the rest of the Empire’s fleet, sending down lighting strike after lightning strike, until half of the New Rosanthe ships were sinking or burning. The remainder were rushing out of the area, scattering both east and west, moving as fast as they could out of his reach.
No! They couldn’t escape him. They all had to pay for what they did to Erya. To Amara. They all had to pay for her murder.
The wind lashed at the sea, churning up the waves so that they grew big enough to swamp the decks, pulling seamen to the ocean floor. No one from the Empire could be left alive.
Pain lanced across Caelan’s mind as if a white-hot poker had been shoved into his brain. He screamed, and his vision swam in the darkness but refused to release the energy surging through him. He needed more. The Empire—
“Let it go, kid,” Kaes said gently.
“What?” he snapped. He jerked his head around to find a vision of the old man, Kaes, hanging out in the clouds with him.
“You feed the storms with your rage, but in the end, you have to let it all go. If you hold on to that anger, it will destroy your soul. Let the storm run its course and fizzle out to allow the sun to return,” Kaes continued with a kind smile.
“Let it go? They killed her! They killed my people!” He didn’t care that his voice cracked. The dampness on his face was not from the rain, but from tears he’d held in for too long. He wept for everyone he couldn’t save. Wept for a lifetime of lost opportunities.
“And no amount of power and rage is ever going to change that. It’s not going to bring her back. Look at the destruction you’ve caused with your anger.” He waved at the choppy waves washing over sinking ships and closing around men seeking safety. “This time, you did good with it. You bought yourself some time, and you’re starting to see the big picture of the problem you face.”
“I thought you said the storm was about rage and chaos,” he snapped, feeling as if Kaes was jerking him one way and then the other for his own amusement.
Kaes gave a sheepish grin. “That’s my other half talking—the rising storm. He wants all the power and destruction. But after the chaos peaks and the rain falls, the storm becomes cleansing. Let the rage go. Let her go, Caelan. Focus on saving your people. Not the destruction of others. It’s time for you to go see Lady Tula. Let her heal you.”
Caelan stared at the sea below him as it ravaged the sinking ships and swallowed men whole. The shore of Caspagir was battered as well, waves crashing over the docks and slamming into buildings. Rain lashed the city streets, and the lights had fallen dark as if the electricity had been knocked across most of the landscape.
And still, he clung to his anger and hate. For this one brief moment, he didn’t feel lost and helpless. He believed he had the power to stop the pain and suffering, or at least make those who’d caused it pay at last.
It was all an illusion, though. The more his anger fed the storm, the more it slipped from his control, hurting innocent people.
A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him slightly to the right. He stared down to find Drayce, Rayne, and Eno standing as close to the water as they dared, their faces turned up, watching him. Drayce had both hands extended toward him as if beckoning him to return to his side. “Let it go, Caelan. They’re waiting for you.”