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Chapter Nine

ELLIE

“Loyalty is not born. It is revealed when there is no cause left to serve.”

Writings of the Veinblood Masters

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Sacha standing at the entrance to our shelter. He’s facing east, still and tall, outlined against the pale sky. The sun hasn’t quite cleared the horizon yet, but the air already carries that dry stillness that means the heat isn’t far off.

The strange bed of shadows he created for me last night is still beneath me.

It was surprisingly warm and solid. I don’t remember falling asleep, just sinking into quiet, and staying there.

I haven’t slept this well since before I arrived in this world.

Before Christmas shopping and interdimensional travel turned my life upside down.

I yawn, then stretch slowly, arms over my head, muscles pulling tight from being still for so long. Across the space, Sacha’s head tilts, but he doesn’t turn.

“We should move soon. The air won’t stay cool for long.” His voice is flat in the way I’ve learned to read as focus. Not impatient or disinterested. Just already somewhere ahead of me, planning what comes next.

Sitting up, I reach for the waterskin. My mouth is dry, and sleep still clings to me.

The water is lukewarm, but it helps. The sweater I keep telling myself to take off is damp with sweat, clinging under my arms and across my back.

My jeans are gritty, and my skin itches.

I’d kill for a change of clothes, a toothbrush and a shower . Not necessarily in that order.

When I stand, the bed dissolves beneath me. The shelter around us fades a second later, the shadows pulling back into stone like they were never there at all.

“How far is it to the mountains?”

He turns slightly. “Three days, if we can keep up a steady pace.” He hands me a slice of fruit.

Something about him is different this morning. I can’t quite pinpoint what it is, other than he seems more … present in some way.

“If nothing has changed since I was last here, we’ll be moving into rockier ground by tomorrow. We’ll need to be careful.”

“You said we can find more water today?”

“Yes.” He waves a hand toward the east. “There are plants that store water in their leaves. I’ll show you when we find them.”

The golden sand ripples in the morning breeze as we set off, the light growing brighter, a slight wind lifting the hair on my neck but doing nothing to ease the heat.

Almost an hour passes in silence before I speak.

“Will your captors be looking for you? ”

“Not yet.” His eyes stay fixed ahead of us. “I’m sure they believe I’m still safely contained in the tower. By the time they discover my absence, we should be beyond their immediate reach.”

“What happens when they do?”

“They’ll hunt me.” His voice doesn’t change. “Their entire doctrine depends on their belief that magic is an abomination. My escape will make them look weak.”

The sun climbs higher, burning away the morning cool. Sweat trickles down my spine, the winter clothes I’ve been wearing since I arrived becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the rising heat.

The sweater sticks. My jeans chafe. Every step feels heavier than the one before.

Sacha glances over. His left hand twitches, and shadows gather above us again, forming a canopy similar to yesterday’s. The relief is immediate.

“Thank you.”

He nods, but doesn’t speak, his attention already returning to our surroundings.

The ground begins to change as the morning wears on. The soft dunes give way to hard-packed soil. Rocks start to break through the surface, and thorny plants appear now and then, low to the sand.

Sacha stops, dropping to one knee beside a strange plant with thick, paddle-shaped leaves bristling with needle-like spines.

It reminds me of a cactus, but not quite right.

More like someone built it from instructions they didn’t fully understand.

There’s something off about it. The leaves are too angled.

Too sharp. It looks more like a weapon than a source of sustenance .

“Here.” He breaks off one of the leaves, avoiding the spines that glint wickedly in the sunlight. Clear liquid beads at the broken edge. “Desert succulents store water. This one won’t hurt you … if you know how to handle it.”

He lifts the leaf to his lips and tilts it, letting the liquid drip into his mouth. The way he handles it suggests experience, just one more piece of his mysterious past I know nothing about.

I follow his example, and immediately regret it when several tiny spines jab straight into my skin.

I hiss, lifting a finger to my mouth to soothe the sting.

I might be mistaken, but I’m sure Sacha’s lips twitch upward before his features return to that carved stone blankness I’m getting to know so well.

The plant’s water tastes bitter and slightly metallic, but it’s wet and fresh, and more importantly, quenches my thirst. When he snaps off a few more leaves, I copy him, taking care not to take too many from any one plant.

And that’s when it really hits me. I wouldn’t last a day out here without him. If I hadn’t found the tower when I did, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be dead.

The thought settles in, uncomfortable and quiet. I don’t know enough to survive on my own. Not here.

“Was it always like this?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “The desert, I mean? Is this how you remember it?” I’m reaching. Grasping for some thread that ties him to this world. Some way to understand where I am. Or where he’s from.

“No.” His face hardens, the answer too quick.

“The desert was always here. But when I was a boy, there were caravan routes— nomad tribes in the Sunfire Dunes who traveled through Ravencross for trade. The Authority made that kind of travel dangerous. Especially once they realized many of the tribes had magic of their own.” He pauses, and I wonder if he’s picturing how it used to look.

“What you see now is what they left behind.”

He moves ahead, and that’s the end of it.

I stare at his back as he walks away, wondering what it’s like to return to a world that kept moving without you. How much of it has changed while he was locked away.

The heat intensifies as the sun climbs. Sweat soaks through my clothes, and my boots, designed for snow and ice, feel like fur-lined ovens.

I’m about to ask Sacha to stop so I can take the torture devices off my feet, when his entire body goes rigid. His head snaps up like a predator catching a scent, every muscle taut with sudden alertness. He raises one hand, pressing a finger to his lips, head tilted.

“What is it?” My whisper feels too loud in the sudden stillness.

“We’re not alone.” His voice drops so low I have to strain to catch the words. “Don’t move.”

His hand makes a fluid gesture that seems to pull at the air itself. The shadows around us respond—deepening, stretching, then flowing outward. The darkness extends beyond what natural shade should allow, reaching into places where light should still exist.

The breath catches in my throat as the darkness bends toward him. The planes of his cheekbones turn sharper, more defined. Then his eyes …

The black of his irises bleed outward, swallowing the whites completely until his eyes become bottomless pools. A shiver runs down my spine.

Whatever Sacha is, he isn’t fully human. Or at least, not the kind of human I’m familiar with.

Dark shapes swirl beneath the skin of his throat and face. The shadows aren’t just around him, they’re part of him, inside him.

I can’t look away. Fear and fascination war within me as I watch. This is magic , real magic, and it’s both beautiful and terrifying.

“Three riders. Approaching from the southeast.” Even his voice sounds different, layered with echoes that weren’t there before, as if multiple voices are speaking in subtle harmony. “Authority soldiers, judging by their colors.”

He blinks, and the blackness withdraws from his eyes, returning them to normal. The shadows beneath his skin fade, leaving him looking human again.

“Will they see us?” My heart hammers against my ribs, the danger suddenly, terrifyingly real. These aren’t distant threats. They’re here … now . And whatever they want, it won’t be good. But my fear of a new unknown mingles with a new wariness of the man beside me. What else can he do?

“Not if we hide.” His hand closes around my arm, firm but not painful, as he guides me behind a cluster of rocks.

I fall silent, but now another fear is building underneath the first. I only know what he’s told me about why he was imprisoned and I can’t help wondering … If it came down to survival, would he protect me? Or cut me loose?

We crouch down, just as three mounted figures crest the rise ahead.

The creatures they ride look like horses …

almost. But they’re wrong in small, unsettling ways.

Leaner. Longer-limbed. Their necks curve too much.

Their hides catch the light in a way skin shouldn’t, every movement flashing across scales like heat shimmer.

The riders are wearing deep red cloaks over fitted armor, their faces hidden behind faceless, glinting helmets.

Each carries a long spear tipped with metal that flares like a signal every time it catches the sun.

They ride in single file, and the path they’re following will bring them within three hundred yards of where we’re crouched.

“Authority patrol,” Sacha confirms in a whisper. “I think it’s a standard sweep. They’re not looking for us … yet.”

I wait until the last rider vanishes behind a rise before I speak. “What would they do if they saw us?”

“They’d try to capture me. Put me back in chains.” His voice goes flat. “You’d be questioned. Then imprisoned. Or executed. Anyone who aids an escaped ‘heretic’ is guilty by default.”

Out of everything he said, one word stands out.

Executed .