Page 42

By the time everyone Varam invited has arrived, the chamber holds a dozen Veinwardens. The veterans recover quickest, weighing the man in front of them against the one they remember. But memories cannot account for time.

The younger ones regard me with something closer to reverence, like I’ve stepped out of prophecy, not out of a prison. Their eyes shine with the kind of hope I no longer allow myself to feel.

A silver-haired woman enters last. She sees me and sinks immediately to one knee, a motion heavy with grief. Her fist thuds softly against her chest.

I move to stand in front of her.

“We are equals here.” I extend one hand to draw her to her feet. “We need fighters, not worshippers.”

Varam calls the group to order by unrolling a detailed map of Ashenvale across the table.

“For those just arriving, as you can see, Vareth’el et’Varin Sacha Torran has returned to us. The reports of his execution were lies spread by the Authority. He was imprisoned in a tower in the Sunfire Dunes for all that time, and escaped nearly a week ago.”

The room stills.

“As many of you have already noted,” Varam continues, “Authority forces have increased security measures along major routes. Their response suggests they suspect something has happened, but not necessarily what .”

He taps the corner of the map. “The Vareth’el has been briefed, but firsthand reports will help us prepare for the decisions ahead.”

“Ashenvale has changed.” His finger traces the outer rings. “The city remains open to merchants and citizens, but it no longer breathes freely. Garrisons at the gates. Soldiers in the markets. Checkpoints at every main crossing.”

“Movement is permitted,” Isara adds, “but only under watch. The inner circle is closed. We’ve lost six trying to get close to the Spire.”

I study the layout, noting the location of new walls wrapping around a city that was once open and free. Ashenvale still lives, but her heart no longer beats.

“And the Lirien Spire?”

The silence gives me my answer before anyone speaks.

“They moved their High Commander in not long after Thornreave. A message. To us, and to every Veinblood still alive at the time,” Varam says quietly.

“Did any escape the purging?”

“None. Even the children were rounded up and taken to Blackvault.”

Beneath the table, my fingers curl into a fist. Not even the innocent were spared from the Authority’s purge.

Ellie’s door opens, silencing the room. She hovers in the doorway, clearly uncertain whether to join us or not. Every eye turns to assess her, the stranger whose arrival coincided with my return.

I break off long enough to explain that Mira will be helping her, and then return to the table.

“Is she the one who helped you escape?” Galern’s gaze doesn’t stray from her as he speaks.

I nod, but offer no further explanation. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. She isn’t a tool to be assessed by them, and her connection to me isn’t something I’m ready to explain.

“We heard rumors of her arrival with you,” Damen says. His expression shows open curiosity. “They say she’s from beyond the mountains, even beyond the mapped territories. ”

“Her origins aren’t relevant to our immediate concerns.” I redirect attention back to the maps, though my awareness of her movements across the room doesn’t diminish. “What matters now is understanding our current situation. The Veinbloods … what happened to the others after my capture?”

Another silence falls, heavier than before. The air in the room thickens with unspoken grief.

“Tell me.” I brace myself against the table, knowing the answer will cut deeper than I’m prepared to let them see.

After a couple of minutes, Ferrin speaks, voice steady but grim. “The purges were already devastating before Thornreave Pass. You and the Veinwardens were the only thing preventing complete annihilation. After you fell, there was nothing left to stand in their way.”

“The Flameveins held out longest,” Varam says quietly. “Their sanctuary in the volcanic chain withstood Authority forces for nearly three years.”

“Until they blocked off all the tunnels leading to their caves, and they burned in their own flames.” Rera’s voice is hard, but her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Varel et’Solven Hallia Lamek and forty-three others, including seventeen children.”

Hallia. My eyes close briefly, while I build up the image of the Flamevein Varel in my mind. Red-hair. Freckles. A voice always raised, either in laughter or in fury.

“Earthveins scattered through the mountain regions,” Isara says. “Many villages sheltered them at first, but?—”

“The Authority implemented collective punishment,” Galern finishes, his voice bitter. “Entire communities executed for harboring a single Veinblood. It didn’t take long before even longtime allies turned against them.”

“And the Tideveins?” I’m sure I can guess their fate from the grim expressions surrounding me.

Varel et’Lureth, Meren Sorla, who once shaped tides with a flick of her fingers. Gone.

“They were the first to fall,” Varam confirms. “With their home being near coastal waters, the Authority simply blockaded every port, and patrolled the coastlines. Those who surrendered were publicly executed. Those who resisted died fighting.”

I’m not surprised by the news, but knowledge doesn’t soften the blow.

The Authority’s brutal beliefs that anyone with magic in their blood did not deserve to live was the reason we fought so hard, but the confirmation still settles heavy nonetheless.

The systematic elimination of magical bloodlines was already well underway when I was taken.

The purges are no longer in progress. They are complete .

Except for me.

“But you continued to fight. Even after the Veinbloods were eliminated. Even when you believed I was dead. Why ?”

“Because the Authority didn’t stop with Veinbloods.” Varam’s voice is hard. “Once that threat was eliminated, they expanded their definition of enemies to include anyone who questioned their control.”

“Scholars preserving old knowledge,” offers one fighter.

“Communities that valued independence,” adds another .

“Anyone who remembered how things were before,” says a third.

Isara rests her hands on the table and leans forward. “They created categories of citizenship. Those demonstrating proper loyalty received privileges. Better food, preferential treatment, eligibility for positions of influence. Those who didn’t found themselves increasingly restricted.”

“Food rationing based on compliance scores,” Galern adds, his voice thick with contempt. “Children separated from parents deemed a danger to the Authority. Communities taxed into starvation while settlement overseers built grander headquarters.”

“So we evolved,” Varam takes over again. “Different victims, same enemy.”

Damen slams his fist on the table, causing maps to shift and cups to rattle.

“And now everything will change.” His eyes burn as he turns them on me.

“With the Vareth’el returned, we can finally strike directly.

No more hiding, no more small victories that change nothing.

We should attack their command in Ashenvale.

Burn them out of the Spire, and show them their supposed victory was temporary! ”

The room falls silent, tension crackling like static before a storm.

They’re all watching me.

The ones who fought beside me before are bracing for the flashpoint.

They remember the man who would have answered fury with fire.

Who would have surged to his feet, shadows rising, voice cutting like a blade, and turned that table into a battleground of will.

They’re waiting for the arrogance. The certainty.

The untempered heat of a man who never walked away from a challenge.

But I don’t move.

I let the silence stretch. Let the tension build.

I was quick to temper once. Quick to speak. Quicker still to command, to scorch doubt with pride. But time reshapes what fire does not burn away. What’s left in me now is quieter. Sharper. Cold-edged and honed for maximum impact.

I look at Damen, who meets my eyes. I release my grip slightly on the void, letting my eyes fill with the twin powers that flow through me. His gaze falters. Only when he drops his eyes, do I speak.

“I feel it too.” My voice is soft. “Twenty-seven years taken, while the world turned without me. But if we act without knowing, we forfeit the advantage my return has given us.”

He draws breath to speak, but I raise one hand. Shadows dance across my fingers. His gaze jumps to them, up to my face, and then back down to the table.

“We do not know how much the Authority suspects. Yes, the tower is gone. But until they confirm what happened, they hesitate. And that hesitation is time we use, or lose. I did not endure confinement to lead those who remain into slaughter.”

“Lord Torran is right,” Varam says, firm and without apology. “Caution isn’t cowardice. It’s what kept us alive this long.”

But Damen doesn’t retreat. “And what has it won us? We trade messages in the dark while they build fortresses in the open. They control the cities. We keep finding new places to hide. We say we fight, but we cower like mice. How long can we keep hiding? ”

I study him. He’s enthusiastic. Full of fire. Shaped more by stories than scars. He wants to act, not because it’s wise, but because it feels like action.

“How many trained fighters do we have?”

“Three hundred,” he replies, still standing straight, though I see the stiffness in his posture now. He doesn’t look up.

“And how many elite soldiers form the Authority’s army?”

“Two thousand.”

“How many are in Ashenvale?”

“A full company. Nearly two hundred.”

“With garrisons at every gate. Three walled rings between us and their command. You would send our people into that, with no element of surprise?” I hike one eyebrow, and wait.

No one answers. They don’t need to.