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Concern rises unbidden. Not just for us, but for Ellie, and her safety. Did they get out of the city undetected? Or have we escaped, only to leave them behind? The thought of failure chills me more than the muddy water clinging to my skin.

“Your woman is more capable than most understand.” Varam correctly guesses the direction of my thoughts.

Your woman.

I don’t correct him, although it represents a complexity I’m not quite ready to examine too closely. Instead, I extend my awareness through shadow, searching for signs of Authority soldiers.

“Do you sense anything?” Varam asks, breaking the silence as we approach a small copse of trees.

“Nothing.” My focus remains divided between immediate surroundings and tracking the shadows around us.

As we near River Crossing, my awareness sharpens. Relief floods through me with an intensity that would have alarmed me yesterday. Whatever complications this connection is creating between us,whatever strategic adjustments it requires, whatever vulnerability it represents to a man who has survived by trusting no one but himself … in this moment, the only thing I acknowledge is that I can feel her there, at the river, safe and waiting.

The Shadowvein Lord—the strategist, the commander, theweapon—acknowledges that her safety matters more than I can rationally justify. And for the first time in decades, I don't immediately calculate how to eliminate that weakness. Instead, I quicken my pace toward the silver light that somehow calls to my shadows.

Chapter Thirty-Five

ELLIE

“We do not train to win. We train so we may choose when not to fight.”

Sayings of the Earthvein Sages

Mira touches my arm. “Garem esh.”She dips her head.Keep your head down.

I nod, matching her posture while we weave through streets filled with people gathering for the Day of Order. The city pulses with an undercurrent of tension that crawls across my skin like static. Every shadow makes me think of Sacha, somewhere in that tower, risking everything for a ring.

Sweat trickles down my spine despite the cool air. I don’t know if anyone is watching us specifically, but eyes are everywhere. Citizens stealing glances at each other, guards scanning from the walls, and the watchtowers where soldiers stand with loaded crossbows, fingers hovering near triggers. The urge to look up burns like an itch I can’t scratch.

The central plaza looms ahead, already packed with people awaiting the official beginning of the celebrations.

No,nota celebration. A performance.

The crowd's energy feels wrong. Anticipation mixed with fear and compliance, born from years of Authority control rather than genuine excitement. Faces fixed in careful masks, voices measured to appropriate levels of enthusiasm. A performance of loyalty with real consequences for missed cues.

Mira grips my elbow, changing our direction. “Stay close.”

The words come through clear.Tooclear. Not the halting translation I'd expect but perfect understanding. I lift my hand to my face, a flutter of panic rising.

“Can you understand me?”

She nods, eyes widening slightly.

“My eyes?”

"They glow. Silver flecks catching light." Her voice drops. "We need to cross the plaza."

That explains the clarity of her words. The magic is awake inside me, responding to danger, supplying what I need. Not under my control. My connection to this world is deepening whether I want it to or not. Each manifestation pulling me further from any hope of returning home, and tying me closer to Sacha.

“Shouldn’t we go around?”

“Too suspicious. Servants are expected to assist with ceremony preparations. Besides, we need to be seen participating. Absence is noted.”

My heart is pounding as we join the flow of people moving toward the central plaza. Authority guards in what I think is ceremonial attire line the main avenues, their crimsonuniforms like blood against Ashenvale’s white stone. They scan the crowd, watching for any deviation from expected behavior.

The plaza opens before us, a vast space transformed for today’s celebration. A wooden platform dominates the center, rising approximately fifteen feet above the cobblestones. On top of it stands what looks like a model of a man. From this distance I can’t make out the details.

“Is that …”