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“Stay close to me. I’ll tell you what matters.” He pauses, studying me in that way he has—silently, like I’m being judged and being found lacking. “They may be curious about you. I’ll tell them you helped me escape the tower.”

“And the rest?”

“The less they know, the better for now.” His voice is soft, but there’s no give in it. It’s a warning that I shouldn’t push. “Your presence alone will raise enough questions, without adding more complications.”

Before I can say anything else, a knock sounds against the outer door. Sacha straightens. The change in him is subtle, but it’s there. A shift in his stance, a lift of his chin. The mask of command settles over him like a second skin.

“They’re here.”

The door opens to reveal Lisandra, flanked by five others.

Three men and two women of varying ages, all bearing the same focused intensity I’ve begun to associate with the longer-serving Veinwardens. Their eyes find Sacha first, then slide briefly to me.

“ Meshavan Shadowverin ,” the eldest man says. “ Varamek nul’tor .”

We have waited faithfully .

The words strike a chord. It’s the phrase Sacha taught me, spoken now not as a plea, but with reverence.

“ Varash kavir. ” His voice changes as he speaks, quiet authority threading through the soft cadence he uses with me.

Lisandra moves to the table, and takes a seat, the others following her lead. I sit to one side, slightly behind Sacha, where I can watch without being a distraction. The Veinwardens arrange themselves, and it feels like every seating choice is a statement of some kind.

The conversation begins immediately, a rapid exchange in the beautiful language that I struggle to follow. I catch words and phrases: ‘ Authority .’ Navirak kavir —something about what comes. Thornreave —a place name, maybe. Selurin et meresh —time, distance.

I stop trying to follow the words, and study their faces instead. Disbelief eroding into acceptance. Hope flickering behind suspicion. And again, again , those sidelong glances at me.

Kavir selurin? Who is this stranger? What role does she play?

One woman, older than Lisandra, watches me with a particular intensity. She cuts across whatever Sacha is saying, pointing directly at me while she speaks.

The room stills, every gaze turning sharply toward me.

Sacha replies, calm but firm. She doesn’t accept it. Her voice rises, not in volume but in force, and she jabs a finger in my direction.

“Navirak et Shadowverin kavir telmar ?” Even without understanding what she’s saying, I can’t miss the suspicion in her tone.

The atmosphere changes, tension thickening the air.

I straighten my spine and hold her gaze. I refuse to look away, refuse to shrink. Whatever instincts I have, I know cowering would be worse.

“What is happening?” I refuse to lower my voice.

“She’s questioning your presence.” Sacha doesn’t look at me. “Why a stranger would appear at the exact moment of my return. It’s natural suspicion. Nothing more.”

The elder man, the one who first greeted Sacha, interjects. His tone is low, even, and whatever he says seems to calm the immediate storm. The woman’s mouth thins, but she doesn’t press further, and slowly the conversation returns to the maps and parchments spread across the table.

I breathe, but it’s shallow, unsteady.

As they speak, the lightstones set into the walls flicker, just once. No one else seems to notice, their attention focused completely on Sacha and whatever he’s telling them.

Only me.

But I feel it. The tension rising beneath the surface, a pressure building not just around the room, but inside me .

The memory of my dream goes through my mind again. The raven. The shadowed figure. The words I can’t forget.

Shadowverin. Vashna et kavir.

The pressure spikes.

Pain threads through my fingertips, an ache that travels up my arms and burrows into my chest. Something deep in my body pulses in response to it. A tingling, electric and alien. For a single breath, silver light flickers over my fingers, down my palm, chasing the shape of my veins.

A lightstone above me flares, then shatters. Crystalline fragments rain down onto the floor, still glowing faintly as they fall, before fading to dull rock.

Every person at the table jerks backward. Shock crosses their faces, and all eyes turn to me.

The suspicious woman is on her feet in an instant, hand moving to the knife at her belt. But she doesn’t draw it. There’s something else in her eyes now.

Recognition.

“Navirak selurin?” Her voice cuts through the stunned silence. She looks directly at me.

Sacha’s hand slams down on the table. “ Meshak!”

The woman shakes her head, and stalks around until she’s in front of me. “ Navirak selurin? ” She repeats the words slowly.

The rest of the lightstones in the room pulse.

“Ellie.” Sacha’s voice is soft. “Are you alright?”

I have no answer for him. I don’t know what just happened, or why, or how. I only know that something is happening that I don’t understand. And from the expressions on the people surrounding Sacha, I’m not the only one who finds that terrifying.