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Chapter Thirty-Two

SACHA

“A stranger’s kindness is often mistaken for magic.”

Wisdom of the Wandering Sages

I pace the small room, unable to keep still. Six steps from wall to wall, twelve from door to window.

Varam shuffles through forged paperwork, the rustle of parchment keeping time with my footsteps. He doesn't say anything as I move from one end of the room to the other and back again, trapped in a cycle I can’t stop.

“Are you certain you don't want to do the reconnaissance yourself? Your knowledge of Ashenvale's original layout is better than mine.”

“It's too risky. Someone might still recognize me, despite all the years.” The words come automatically, but the truth runs deeper. If I’m seen, if I’m recognized, I won’t just be returned to imprisonment, I’ll be executed.

It’s a risk I’m willing to take to get the ring, but not before.

“You and Mira will draw less attention.”

There’s also Ellie to consider. I can’t leave her here alone, and I can’t take her with us.

Not while her abilities are still too unpredictable.

If she loses control in the wrong place, we’ll have a disaster on our hands.

And the thought of her facing this city’s cruelty because of me is unacceptable.

“Besides, the Authority may have changed things more than we anticipated. What I know won’t be useful in places where they’ve rebuilt.”

“I’ll focus on the best entry point to access the vault, and Mira can verify the Day of Order schedule,” Varam says. “We should be back here by nightfall."

“If you're discovered, get out of the city. Don’t come back for us. I’ll get Ellie and myself out if it’s necessary.”

Before he can argue, there’s a knock at the door. Mira and Ellie step inside. Mira’s already dressed for reconnaissance. To anyone looking, she appears to be nothing more than a servant on an errand.

Ellie, on the other hand, looks tense and tired, her body tight with exhaustion.

“Ready?” Varam addresses Mira, who nods.

The door closes behind them, leaving the room in an uneasy silence. I stand near the window, careful to remain out of sight, watching as workers cross the courtyard. The city I once guarded has been reshaped into something unrecognizable. A fortress designed to suppress rather than protect.

Ellie’s quiet voice breaks the silence. “What was it like? Before you left here.”

“Different in every way that matters. Ashenvale was built to be a sanctuary, not a prison. We had defenses, of course, but they faced outward … to shield what grew within, not to cage it.”

What I don't say is how deeply the sight of it wounds me. How every new wall built feels like a betrayal. Where once the Veinwardens trained openly beneath sky-reaching arches, now Authority guards drill in soulless unison.

The western gardens, vibrant with rare flora my mother collected from every corner of Meridian, have been paved over into a supply staging ground. The scent of rain on blossoms, once the first breath of the courtyard, has been replaced by the reek of leather and iron.

Lirien Spire, once Ashenvale’s heart—the meeting place of every Veinblood family—now flies Authority banners. A false crown on a broken city.

“It must be hard, seeing it like this.”

I shouldn’t indulge this conversation. It was bad enough yesterday, when she somehow got me to talk about my mother. There’s no tactical advantage in revisiting what can never be reclaimed. Yet something in me, something long forgotten, answers before I can stop it.

I turn to face her.

“What’s lost is lost. I have to focus on what can still be reclaimed.”

When the midday bells sound, I suggest we leave the room and find something to eat. Staying here is starting to wear at my control, and there’s too much at risk to let that happen.

“Remember, keep every interaction minimal. Brief responses if you’re addressed. Authority soldiers rarely speak directly to servants, so any unusual attention is a potential danger.”

She nods, then lifts her head. Once again, I’m shocked by the way she meets my gaze without flinching.

“Are my eyes behaving?” It takes me a second to process her question. Her voice is quiet, and something in me answers it before thought intervenes.

I reach out. My fingers brush beneath her chin, tilting her face toward the light. I intend it to be nothing more than a necessary check, but the moment skin meets skin, my entire body braces for impact.

A whisper of sensation stirs beneath my flesh, racing along pathways I didn't know existed until she arrived in my world. Faint but unmistakable. An echo of what happened at Stonehaven. A reminder that once broken, boundaries are not easily rebuilt.

For a heartbeat, I'm inside her head again. Or maybe she's inside mine. Thoughts blurring, borders dissolving.

Snow. Heat. Tower walls. Shadow and silver meeting in the dark.

The sensation fades, leaving behind a ghost-print across my nerves. Memory, or more than memory? I can’t tell.

But then I catch her expression—pupils dilated, lip caught between teeth—and certainty replaces doubt.

She felt it too.

Her breath catches, but she stays still, waiting. Holding steady. Trusting me not to break whatever fragile line we’re standing on.

I force myself to focus on her eyes. The silver flecks are still there, dimmed but not gone. A caged storm, waiting to break.

“It’s subdued enough. Just keep your focus, especially in public.”

For a moment, I don’t move, the impulse to remain connected to her almost strong enough to override caution. Then I let my hand fall away. The space between us snaps taut like a pulled wire. She lets out a soft breath .

“Come.” I turn away, and open the door.

The hallway outside the room teems with servants heading to the communal hall. We join the flow, matching their pace, slipping into invisibility. Ellie walks slightly behind me, head down, mimicking the quiet deference displayed by others of her supposed rank.

Long tables are arranged in rows, benches instead of chairs.

Everything designed for efficiency rather than comfort.

We collect our meals from workers who barely glance at us—bowls of flavorless gruel, survival rationed in gray clumps—then find seats at the end of a table near the wall.

Close enough to an exit, far enough to avoid unnecessary scrutiny.

Ellie keeps her eyes lowered, focusing on her food. I remain alert, checking every face, every exit. The room hums with muted conversations, servants speaking in the clipped tones of those who have learned survival begins with silence.

“They all look so beaten down. Everyone is just trying to keep their heads down.” She glances up, barely moving her lips.

I follow her gaze across the room, forcing myself to see Ashenvale through her eyes, rather than my own.

“The Authority values compliance above all else.”

“No wonder you fought them.” Her attention goes back to the bowl in front of her.

“They began by targeting Veinbloods, but their ambition has always been broader. Complete dominion over all human will.”

I break off when a disturbance near the door catches my eye.

Several Authority officers enter the hall, their crimson uniforms making them stand out.

The room’s ambient noise dims instantly, metallic clatter of utensils fading to silence, conversations dying mid-word.

Shoulders hunch. Heads bow. Even the air itself seems to thicken, every breath turning strained and shallow.

The officers move between tables with the casual arrogance of men who've never questioned their right to instill fear. Their presence isn't merely an unspoken threat, it's a reminder of what Ashenvale has become under their rule. A city broken open, destroyed from within.

"It's an inspection," I murmur to Ellie without looking at her. My mind starts working faster, cataloging exits, counting steps, calculating delays.

Five tables between us and the officers.

Four.

Around us, the other servants shrink into their benches, movements brittle with terror. Not invisible enough to vanish. Only unremarkable enough to survive.

“Finish eating, but don’t rush.” My voice is almost soundless. “We’ll leave once they pass.”

At a table near the center of the room, an officer stops. His gaze sweeps over the bent heads around him, landing on a young man.

“You,” he says.

The young man rises immediately, back straight, hands at his sides. Too stiff to be anything other than terrified. The officer circles him slowly, a wolf savoring the scent of panic, examining his uniform, his credentials, his demeanor.

The tension mounts until the boy begins to shake visibly. Only then, with a contemptuous flick of two fingers, does the officer dismiss him .

Across the table, Ellie’s breath hitches. So subtle most wouldn’t notice. But I do.

I sense it before I see it. The power inside her is stirring, outraged by the spectacle. Her fingers tighten around the spoon. Metal bends under the pressure, the tremor traveling up her arm.

"Focus." My lips barely move. "Breathe as I taught you. Now, Mel’shira."

Her eyes meet mine, and I see it. The silver has brightened, bleeding outward like cracks in glass. No longer hidden. No longer safe.

Anyone who looks will see what she is.

The officers continue their slow circuit of the room.

Three tables away now.

They’re moving in our direction, boots striking the stone floor, closing in. Step by step. If they reach us before Ellie regains control …

“We need to move.”

We rise together, and move slowly toward the exit. Most servants remain seated during inspections unless directly addressed, but a few others are also leaving, providing just enough cover for our departure to appear routine rather than evasive.

Three steps from the exit.

Two steps.

A voice cuts through the air.

“You there. Gray uniform. Female. Stop.”