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I stand at his side, understanding none of the words, but his voice sends emotion rippling through the crowd. Faces turn upward toward him, not in worship but fierce allegiance. Their expressions shift from solemn attention to a kind of breathless determination.

Whatever he’s telling them, it’s rekindling something that’s been lost or forgotten.

“Ellie kavir meresh …” His hand tightens slightly on my elbow as dozens of eyes shift in my direction.

For half a second, every instinct screams to step back, to hide. Instead, I lift my chin slightly, meeting their gazes head-on. I have no idea what he’s saying, but I hold onto the tiny scrap of composure I have.

“I told them you helped me escape,” he breaks off to tell me. “That your arrival has importance beyond what we yet understand.”

He addresses the crowd again, his voice rising, gathering strength. The people break into what sounds like a chant, fists slamming against their chests. The energy in the chamber intensifies, as though the very air crackles with the force of their collective will.

Lisandra steps forward, adding some more words, and another wave of sound rolls through the cavern. People appear with trays, weaving through the crowd, offering small cups that catch the light. When everyone holds one, Lisandra lifts hers high and her voice rings out over the gathering.

“Shadowverin narem kavir!”

The crowd responds as one. “Narem kavir!”

Cups are drained in a single, sweeping motion. A ritual, complete.

The formal atmosphere dissolves like a string cut loose.

Music surges from the far side of the room, conversations resume at a higher, livelier volume, and people approach the platform. Some eager to speak, others simply to see, to touch, to confirm Sacha’s presence among them.

Sacha turns to me. “The formalities are complete. Now comes the more challenging part.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Navigating the personal. Every person here has questions, hopes, expectations. Most of them involve me, but many may extend to you as well.”

“Why? What did you tell them?”

“That your presence is linked to mine. That will be enough.”

“Enough to make them curious?”

“Curiosity was inevitable, regardless of what I told them.” He scans the gathering. “Follow my lead. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, let me know, and we’ll withdraw.”

“Can we do that? Just leave, I mean.”

He gives a soft, almost amused huff. “I am theVareth’el. The Shadowvein. I can do whatever I please.” The words are delivered with such arrogance that I just stare at him.

“You need to explain to me what that actually means. Obviously, you’re important to these people …”

He guides me down from the platform as I speak, into the heart of the celebration, where people immediately surround us. Manyspeak to him, often all at once, words flowing too rapidly for me to catch, but their meaning seems clear from their expressions—gratitude, relief, renewed determination.

Some turn their attention to me. A few of the bolder ones address me directly, although my limited vocabulary leaves me struggling to respond. Sacha translates whenever necessary, smoothing every awkward moment without ever making me feel foolish.

The music grows louder, and the center of the chamber clears. A line of dancers step forward, men and women, and the rhythm shifts into something more formal. The movements combine combat stances with more fluid elements. The display is both beautiful and slightly unnerving, celebration and preparation for war intertwined.

“They dance to remember,” Sacha murmurs beside me, his attention fixed on the dancers. “So that when battle comes, their bodies already know the shape of survival. Rhythm and movement practiced until instinct.”

I watch, captivated. The beauty of it is undeniable, but beneath that beauty lies steel.

An older man approaches while I watch, a gentle smile on his face. He speaks directly to me, then bows to Sacha.

“He says your eyes hold something special. That he sees power in them.”

The words make me blush. I duck my head slightly, unsure how to respond. The old man studies me for a moment longer, before he melts back into the celebration.