The patrol room of the airship was a tight, utilitarian space, functional but far from welcoming. The walls were lined with panels of worn brass, some dented from years of turbulence. A faint smell of oil and old leather clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of rust. The floors were scuffed and pitted, revealing patches of the steel beneath, and the faint whine of machinery hummed through the space like a restless ghost. The centerpiece of the room was the control panel, a sprawling array of levers, dials, and gauges, each marked with faded labels. A large, circular steering wheel dominated the setup, its wooden handles worn smooth by countless hands. Rows of toggle switches gleamed faintly under the dim, amber lighting, and a throttle lever jutted out to one side, its movement dictating the speed of the massive craft.

Bayu sat confidently in the pilot's chair, his fingers tracing the controls with a familiarity that suggested countless hours of practice. He adjusted a few dials, his movements precise, and took hold of the steering wheel.

"What are you doing?" Kai asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

Bayu straightened his posture, planting both feet firmly on the floor as if grounding himself for what was to come. "I can't let you drive this airship," he said firmly. "Not when you're like that."

Kai frowned, his brow furrowing. "Like what?"

"Unhinged." Bayu's tone was resolute, leaving no room for argument. His gaze didn't waver from the storm-tossed horizon. "Don't worry. Just watch the windows for Tomoya."

Kai hesitated but finally nodded. He sank into the seat beside Bayu, his eyes glued to the chaos unfolding outside. The storm in the distance was a monstrous thing, a swirling vortex of black and grey that tore across Antigua's skies with a ferocity that sent shivers through his spine. Lightning forked violently through the churning clouds, illuminating the storm in eerie flashes. Kai's heart clenched as he scanned the maelstrom, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair tightly.

"There." He pointed, his voice taut with urgency. "I saw him—Tomoya's wolf form. He ran straight into that."

Bayu squinted in the direction Kai indicated and adjusted the airship's course. The craft groaned and shuddered as it shifted, the storm's howling winds growing louder with every passing second. Ahead, the storm seemed to pulse, its center a terrifying vortex of energy. Through the chaos, Kai caught a fleeting glimpse: a blur of black fur and a pair of golden eyes, caught in the storm's grip like a leaf in a gale.

Kai's pulse quickened. He stood abruptly, placing a heavy hand on Bayu's shoulder. "I'm going in."

Bayu's head whipped around, his eyes wide with alarm. "You'll do no such thing," he said sharply. "It's dangerous."

Kai shook his head, determination hardening his expression. "Don't worry about me, Bayu."

Before Kai could move, a choked sob escaped from Bayu's lips, freezing him in place. Kai turned, his eyes widening in shock. Bayu's chestnut gaze was glassy with unshed tears, giving his normally steady demeanor an uncharacteristic fragility. His voice cracked as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "I couldn't forgive myself... if something happened to you."

The raw emotion in Bayu's words struck Kai like a blow. He sank to his knees in front of him, placing a gentle hand on Bayu's shoulder and tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Bayu," he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside and out. "You don't ever have to worry about me."

Kai felt the familiar heat of dragonflame thrumming through his veins, a fierce reminder of his power. "I'm a dragonborn. I can take care of myself."

Bayu didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the floor as his fingers drummed against his leg in restless frustration. Kai stood and turned to the hatch. The moment he opened it, the storm's fury slammed into him like a physical force. Wind roared in his ears, tugging at his clothes and biting at his skin, but he pressed forward, his steps sure and deliberate.

Glancing back, he caught Bayu's gaze, still rooted to his seat but watching him with an expression of reluctant acceptance. Bayu gave him a faint nod, a silent acknowledgment of Kai's resolve.

Kai stepped out into the storm, his heart pounding. The winds tore at him, threatening to throw him back into the airship, but he leaned into their force, his every muscle straining against nature's wrath. His fear was a living thing, clawing at his chest, but he pushed it down. He couldn't die here—not when he still couldn't help Antigua. Not when he still had his father and mother to think of, his brother Korede. But he couldn't let Tomoya destroy himself. He couldn't begin to imagine returning back to Alaska, his role as a recruit at Aetherwing stripped from him. Rupert Lowe staring at him saying "I sent four recruits to Antigua, and Kai-" those strange black eyes would stare at him and peel Kai back to his very core- "you failed." And Kai did fail, he failed Jabari, he failed Maleko and he failed all the elves that put their very faith in their chief and in the island. And Kai could feel it, he couldn't explain it but Tomoya was the key, he wasn't going to go on without him.

Kai stepped through the eye of the storm, each step a battle against the chaos. His boots barely grazed the jagged, trembling ground as the winds whipped around him, a feral force that seemed determined to tear him apart. Every inch forward was propelled by the heat roaring in his chest—the dragonfire that burned brighter in defiance of the storm's icy wrath. The world around him was a blur of blistering cold and furious grey, with the sky above an endless abyss of darkness, punctuated by flickers of lightning that cast the swirling tempest in stark, fleeting relief.

Through the relentless gale, Kai pushed onward. His muscles screamed with effort, his breaths torn from his lips before they even reached his lungs. And then, through the vortex of wind and shadow, he saw him—Tomoya, caught in the storm, his wolf form tumbling helplessly through the blaring winds.

"Tomoya!" Kai shouted, though his voice was swallowed by the storm's roar. He surged forward, his body aching with every step, until his hands finally found purchase in the black softness of Tomoya's fur. He held on with all his strength, his fingers digging into the wolf's thick coat as he fought to steady himself. "Tomoya..." His voice cracked, raw and hoarse from the effort. "Please."

As if responding to his desperate plea, the fur beneath his hands began to shift and fade. Kai blinked, and in an instant, he was holding Tomoya's human form. The transformation was so sudden it stole his breath. Tomoya's body was cold, almost lifeless, his pale skin ashen against the storm's fury. Kai pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him as if his warmth could anchor Tomoya to the world.

But then, Tomoya's eyes opened, blazing with feral anger. He writhed in Kai's grip, breaking free with a force that sent Kai stumbling. Without hesitation, Tomoya staggered toward the very heart of the storm, the winds seeming to draw him in like a siren's call.

"Tomoya!" Kai's voice was sharp, almost panicked. "What are you doing?! You can't go there—you could disappear!"

Tomoya's steps faltered for a moment, his expression flickering with something like exhaustion. His legs wobbled as if the fight in him was finally giving way, but his voice was resolute, bitter. "Kai, I've told you a hundred times—just let me go."

Kai threw his hands into the air, the wind catching at his fingers and threatening to pull him off balance. "Let you go? You want to disappear? You want to die?" His voice broke, a thin veneer of bravado cracking under the weight of his desperation.

Tomoya shook his head, his dark hair whipping across his face. "You don't understand."

Kai took a step closer, his feet dragging through the howling gale. "How can I understand if you never explain anything to me?" His voice softened, taking on a pleading edge. "Tomoya, I want to understand you. I want to know everything about you."

Tomoya backed away further, his movements erratic, unsteady. "Kai, no..."

Kai kept moving forward, his body cutting through the storm. "I know you're lying to me, Tomoya. Do you know how I know that?" His tone sharpened, frustration mingling with his desperation. "You would never have bitten Isaac if you didn't want to be part of us."

Tomoya barked out a bitter laugh, his voice raw. "It was a moment of insanity—"

"It wasn't," Kai interrupted, his amber eyes blazing through the haze. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You're bonded to Isaac now. He belongs to you, and you belong to him. That means you need to take responsibility. Do you think I don't know about wolf bonds?" Kai's voice rose, carrying over the wind. "If you die, Isaac will be put through unimaginable pain."

Tomoya's face twisted, his expression a raw mix of anguish and defiance. His legs gave way slightly, and he stumbled, the storm almost claiming him. "Oh, so you came out here for him, then?" His voice cracked, filled with bitterness. "You're just trying to save Isaac. I told you he'd be fine."

Finally, Kai closed the distance between them. His hand shot out, grabbing Tomoya's arm in an iron grip, his fingers digging into the cold flesh. "I didn't come to save Isaac," he said, his voice low but steady. His words cut through the storm with a fierce certainty that shook even him.

Tomoya met his gaze, the anger in his expression faltering. "Then why?"

Kai leaned in, his amber eyes locking with Tomoya's. "I came to save you. You belong to me, Tomoya. Stop trying to fight it." His voice softened, though the intensity didn't waver. "I don't know what you've been through. I don't know what you've seen or the things you've had to do. But from the moment I met you, I saw the truth. You help people. You saved Isaac—that was your first instinct. And no matter how much you try to act like you don't care, I know you do. You care deeply."

Tomoya's body shook under Kai's grip, his defenses crumbling. Tears welled in his dark eyes, spilling over and streaking his pale cheeks. "Kai..."

Kai pulled Tomoya into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. His own voice wavered, thick with emotion. "And guess what, Tomoya? I care about you. I'm not letting you go—not to the storm, not to your pain, not to anything. So stop running."

Tomoya's eyes fluttered shut, his dark lashes trembling against pale, wind-chilled cheeks. His voice, when it came, was so faint that Kai had to strain to catch it, carried as it was on the remnants of the storm's dying howl.

"I'm tired," Tomoya whispered.

The words cut through Kai, sharper than the cold and deeper than the roar of the wind. He swallowed hard, the ache in his chest growing unbearable as he tightened his hold on Tomoya's fragile, shivering frame. Slowly, his hand rose to Tomoya's hair, brushing through the damp, silken strands with a tenderness he wasn't sure he even knew he was capable of.

"I know," Kai murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

In that moment, everything else—the storm, the fear, the weight of their fractured world—fell away. All that remained was the warmth of Tomoya's body against his, the sharp, bracing scent of rain and wind still clinging to his skin, and the overwhelming sense of responsibility that pulsed in Kai's chest like a second heartbeat.

A soft glow began to bloom around them, a serene light that cut through the storm's oppressive grey. It shimmered faintly at first, a pale blue that seemed to rise from the very air itself, swirling and encircling them in a cocoon of warmth. The wind slackened, the cold abating, and Kai felt the ground beneath him shift, becoming steady and sure.

Bayu's magic.

The glow expanded, cradling them like a protective shell, pulling them upward, away from the chaos and back toward the airship's waiting safety. Kai's heart swelled with gratitude, but his thoughts remained with Tomoya, whose weight sagged heavier against him.

As the storm's fury faded to a distant murmur, Kai gazed down at Tomoya's face, pale and serene in the soft blue light. He was struck by the fragility of the moment, by the sheer vulnerability in the man he held so tightly.

It was then that he realized the weight Tomoya carried—the endless battle raging within him, the wounds no one could see but everyone felt. Kai understood, perhaps for the first time, that saving Tomoya wasn't just about pulling him back from the brink of a storm. It was about helping him find the strength to face the storms within himself.

The light settled them gently onto the airship's floor, the familiar warmth of its interior wrapping around them like a second embrace. Kai didn't let go of Tomoya, even as the soft hum of the engines reminded him that the world hadn't stopped spinning, even if it felt like it should have.

"Tomoya," he said quietly, almost to himself. His fingers brushed against Tomoya's damp cheek, pushing back the stray locks of black hair that clung there. "You don't have to carry this alone anymore."

He didn't know if Tomoya could hear him—if the words would reach past whatever walls he'd built to protect himself—but he said them anyway.

As the airship hummed softly and Bayu's footsteps approached from the cockpit, Kai looked out through the wide windows. The storm was fading now, its once terrifying presence reduced to distant flashes of lightning on the horizon.

And yet, Kai felt its echoes linger. He knew storms like these didn't disappear easily—they left scars, they shaped you, they became a part of who you were.

But he also knew they passed.

And as the ship began its slow, steady ascent through the clearing skies, Kai allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the worst of this storm was behind them. That in its aftermath, there would be space for healing. For understanding. For something new to grow.

Perhaps, he thought, holding Tomoya just a little tighter, storms weren't meant to destroy. Perhaps they were meant to reveal the strength it took to survive them.