Rowan Aary had spent her life believing she was the last living Aary. She had known she was alone. There had been no one left on Htrae to whom she belonged.

The day she had burnt on the pyre, Rowan had prayed to be with her family again. She had wanted the Gods to let her join her mother and father in the heavens. At eight years old, as her breathing became laboured and her skin melted, she had not begged to be spared from pain or to be saved; In the moment she had been tested by the flames, she had cried out, pleaded to the Fates, to be with those she loved.

Instead, the Gods had spared her life, sent her power over fire. And through the smoke, a young man had emerged like a spark of hope, igniting her will to live.

For ten years, Joel Ba'leon had been the only person she had thought she had left.

But now, in her twenty-fourth year, she was waiting to be proven wrong.

It was an overcast summer day. The beautiful weather of the past week was finally breaking over a south wind, the warm humidity carrying the promise of rain and relief from the cloying heat. On another afternoon, Rowan would have stripped off her supple riding leathers, and taken a dip in the indigo ocean surrounding the spit of land where her team stood. Instead, her hands were gripping her horse's reigns tightly, as she stared at a dot on the horizon as it grew slowly, willing it to move faster. The wind, and the whinnying and whickering of steeds, were the only noises permeating the pensive air around the elite team of rebel soldiers as they waited.

She had received the message from Joel by carrier pigeon just that morning, noting that everything had gone to plan, mostly – and of course, without further detail, Rowan worried at the 'mostly' like a sharp stone in her riding boot – and that Joel would be arriving early, on the northern tip of the Bay of Dunfair this very afternoon with the Wyrd Sky and Rowan's siblings in tow. The message had been written in the rebel code, a small doodle of a two-tongued gibbon mooning the viewer whilst sticking out both its tongues, crammed into the margin of the parchment.

She had not planned or packed; she had not let the horses or soldiers rest; she had ridden as if the hounds of hell were at her back until her sister, her brother and Joel were a speck in her sights.

Now the moment was here: the moment of which she had not even dared dream. Her sister, Laina Aary, stood in front of her, hand outstretched.

As the two sister's eyes met for the first time, Rowan flinched, surprised, pulling back as if Laina's palm had been made of embers. Of the deluge of emotions Rowan had expected to feel, had expected to be overwhelmed with, she could not have predicted this.

She beheld the girl in front of her, eyes like a deep cerulean stormy ocean with flecks glancing off waves, where Rowan's were pale-blue, like a frozen fractured lake. Her sister's golden-hued hair shone like warm gold in contrast to Rowan's pale, cool-toned white-blond. Though they were of similar diminutive stature, where Rowan was all hard, lean muscle, Laina was soft, alluring curves. They had congruent dainty features, the same rosebud pink lips, but Laina's skin was unblemished; perfect. Rowan's, mottled with burns up her right side. Had Rowan grown up in a different world, an easier place, she wouldn't have collected the scars and burns that marred the canvas of her own body with reminders of past violence and pain. Maybe she would have grown into a lady; not a warrior. But Rowan was what she was; who she was. And so too was this young woman.

Looking at her, two things were as clear to Rowan as the swash of water magnifying the granular sand under the lapping waves on the spit where they now met: Laina was a stunning beauty. And, she was her sister.

Her sister.

Laina Aary.

Rowan had not believed. Not truly. But now she knew without the shadow of a doubt that the girl standing in front of her was her family.

Her face ...

"You look so much like our mother," Rowan said, not letting her voice break.

The mother who I thought was dead. The mother who abandoned me, left me, let me be taken.

And yet, none of this was what had struck Rowan in the gut, more surely than a knife to the stomach.

It was how familiar Laina's presence had been. The twinkling kindness that lay in her pretty eyes, the energy of affability that drew people in, the compassionate but imperial stature the girl carried. It was something that, try as she might, Rowan knew she could never cultivate. While Laina looked like the mother that had forsaken Rowan, her sister's aura was of the dead father the ruler she wished she, herself, could emulate. The ghosts of Rowan's past and the insecurities of her present peered back at her through her long-lost sister, like a walking reminder of past grief, of the future with her family of which she was robbed, and of the parts of them she could never embody.

As Rowan grappled with her own reactions, Laina's eyes brimmed with tears that spilled out, streaming down her cheeks. "I..." Laina said, trying to wrestle control over her emotions, "have dreamed of you my whole life. I feel like I already know you. My sister! Ever since I found out you existed – you were really real -- all I have wanted every minute of every day has been to finally meet you."

Rowan's own flesh and blood peered back at her eagerly, openly, raw love and deep familiarity shining from the depths of her soul.

Just the way Rowan's father had once looked at her.

But blood or no, Rowan didn't know Laina, not yet, and she balked at the forced familiarity like a horse straining against a bit that was pulling too hard.

"I'm General Rowan Aary," she said, rather formally, the only hint of emotion colouring the greeting a slight, cold indifference. "I'm the firstborn Aary, which I suppose makes us siblings."

Rowan could see confusion cloud Laina's face, and then on its heels, a dawning of the slight rebuff, a trace of hurt that now lived there because of Rowan's callous, barbed response.

"Hello dear sister," said the boy-man beside Laina with warmth as he stepped forward, a huge grin across his face. "I'm your brother, Will."

Her brother. Will.

He was tall, very tall for one so young, with golden curly hair and an easy smile that was so contagious it made even her own lips turn upwards at the corners in this tense moment. He swept her into a hug and lifted her off her feet, shaking her side-to-side, then he placed her gingerly back on solid ground.

It was as if Will had single-handedly relieved the moment of its gravity, dispelling the collectively held breath of the present company with his easy manner and jovial comradery. He was like an eager griffin pup, jumping up on her enthusiastically. And for whatever reason, even though he resembled their father in his own way, it was easier for Rowan to accept him. In just a few moments, her feelings for Will were simpler and fonder, whereas her emotions towards Laina were more complicated and complex. Then again, it had always been easier to get along with boys for Rowan. Relationships took time, she decided, and eventually her sister would be more than just a stranger. One that reminded her of rueful recollections. It wasn't, Rowan thought, the girl's fault.

As she surveyed Laina and Will, she was struck by how very young they looked. Babies. She knew they were unprepared for the likes of what was ahead. What do they know of war, these children? Of hardship?

But before she could voice her concerns, her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar cheeky voice.

"I see how it is, m'lady. I go away for a week or so and you forget all about me," Joel crowed out from his place further behind the twins, from where he had watched the interaction with interest. He feigned an air of offence. "No greeting for your oldest friend, hmm?"

It was immediate, the calming effect that came over her when they locked eyes. Everything in the world was alright when Joel was beside her. She had missed the cheeky bugger more than she knew how to say. She ran down the bank and launched herself at him, forgetting herself then, and showing a glimpse of the Rowan only Joel knew.

"Oooof," Joel huffed, falling back onto the soft grass as he accepted her hug-attack. "Good to see you remember me after all."

Gods, she was happy to see him.

"Barely," she joked. "And it's unfortunate, but I'll have all but forgotten you by the time you return again. You need to take the twins back to Earth. Now."

She had said it loud enough for the others to hear and the confusion was evident by the wary and bewildered looks of every single person on the shore bank.

"Row?" Joel queried, puzzled, as he proceeded to stand, dust himself off and help Rowan up. "The plan was to bring them to the rebel camp so they can help. They just got here. We can't just turn around and take them back."

"Yes. You can and you will. My orders," Rowan said, in her most authoritative no-contest command as she faced off against Joel. "They're too young and too inexperienced to be of any help. Look at them. Do they even have any training in their aptitudes?"

"Actually, Laina doesn't have —"

"Stop talking about us like we aren't even here!" Laina growled in an angry voice from behind Rowan as she took a spot next to both of them, hands folded over her chest and a stubborn glint in her eye. "You don't get to make these decisions for us. We are here to help you. And we decide what we do with our lives."

Impulsive. Headstrong. Bull-headed.

Rowan glared at her sister, eyes sparking. "I am not only a rebellion commander, but I am your elder sister and you will listen to me. I will not have our brother's or your death on my conscious. Go back to where you belong. Go home."

"This is our home now."

"It's not. Go back."

It was non-negotiable. Case closed. Rowan began to walk towards the horses.

"No," her sister yelled. And then more calmly, "We are staying. You can't win without us."

Rowan spun around, rapidly, and stalked menacingly forward until she was inches from her sister's face.

Not even Joel had the nerve to directly disobey her in front of her team.

"What did you say?" Rowan asked perilously, punctuating each word for emphasis.

Laina shrugged noncommittally. "No." No fear or reverence laced her adamant tone.

"What, please do tell us, do you think you will do that can help us win a war that's waged for hundreds of years?" Rowan snapped back at her.

"Well ... Will is a kinetic and has runic magic, and I'm ... well ... I can ..." Laina looked momentarily uncomfortable, lost.

"Wait." Rowan realized then. "Are you telling me," she paused, thinking, "you have no magical aptitudes?"

Her sister's silence was answer enough.

"What, exactly, do you think you can help with? You're useless to me, Laina. You're nothing more than a liability."

"Rowan!" Joel admonished her, a look of scathing disappointment directed her way. He rarely looked at her like that, and it was almost painful for Rowan. And now he was looking at Laina with wide-eyed concern, as if her feelings were of the utmost importance in an instance where Rowan was only trying to spare her her future, her life even.

Rask and the other soldiers, meanwhile, were attempting to look disinterested, but instead appeared unsettled. The Winnifreds were sitting cross-legged in a semi-circle a few feet away, listening intently to the drama unfolding before them. Sky stood stalk still, her back to them and her bare toes touching the lapping water.

She addressed them then, her neck craning around like a snowy owl to look at them over her gray wings.

"There's a storm coming," she said. And it was hard to tell if she was talking about the weather — the low rolling slate clouds reflected in the torrid waters, lightening flashing in their depths — or something more ominous and metaphorical. "We need to head to the rebel camp. With everyone. Laina is right, Rowan. You cannot win this fight without them. If you send them back, you're not only damning Htrae, but the world from which they came."

"You can't possibly —." Except Sky could quite possibly know. She was a Wyrd. And she'd been the only check to the Empress's power for the last few hundred years. Sky knew things others couldn't.

"You need them," she said, resolutely.

Laina wore an I-told-you-so smug look on her face. Will and Joel looked concerned. The battering wind was unrelenting.

Rowan had only wanted to save them from a future mired in war. She'd lost her family before, and getting to know her siblings through this, perhaps letting herself get too close to them, it would be too hard if she were to lose them again.

"Fine," Rowan conceded, as cold rain began to lash down upon them. The decision, it seemed, wasn't hers to make. Damned if they were here, damned if they were there. "Let's go then." She grabbed Joel's hand firmly, for comfort but also to lead him away. "Ride ahead with me?" she asked him, as she walked briskly toward the herd with her best friend in tow, "to the Citadel."

She mounted her horse Siddha swiftly, stopping only momentarily to glance back at the others before she charged bitterly ahead, expecting Rask to deal with the arrangements as she headed into the oncoming gale at a gallop. 

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Sorry for taking a while to update! I hope you enjoyed this stormy chapter. Please vote and comment. Your feedback makes my day. ~ Do you think Rowan and Laina are going to become friends?  Too bad I can't do an Instagram poll here!