Page 176 of Stormvein

She takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes.

“It isn’t about feeling what it feels.” I watch her closely. “It’s about reclaiming what is already yours. What was always yours.”

Her fingers clench then relax against the pommel of the saddle. Her power brightens slightly, and the mist stalker slows its pace to look at her.

“That’s it. It’s not entering you, it’s returning to where it belongs.”

Her breathing changes, becomes deeper. More even. She’s still pale, still shaken, but there’s a thread of control in her expression that wasn’t there before.

The familiar moves closer, its form becoming less substantial with each step toward us. As it approaches, her light reaches outward in tendrils that meet the creature halfway. She doesn’t flinch this time. And I don’t speak. I don’t want to break whatever delicate balance she’s found between fear and command. This moment belongs to her. Her victory against herself.

When they touch, the mist stalker dissolves … notintoher, but into the silver light itself. Its essence flows back like water finding its level, merging seamlessly with the power that created it.

Ellie gasps, her body sagging against mine. “It worked.” There’s relief and pride in those two simple words.

“The connection should always be on your terms.” I keep my arm around her, supporting her while she finds her center again. “The familiar shouldn’t remain manifested when you don’t need it. It only drains power that way.”

“Why didn’t it hurt this time?” Her body relaxes against mine, her breathing steadier.

“Because you reclaimed it without trying to process its experiences. You accepted the power without absorbing the pain. You stopped fighting yourself.”

“What about its wounds?” She glances down at her arms. “It was torn open. There was blood from those …thingseverywhere.”

“Non-existent. They’re visible representations of what you expect to see after the battle. Your mind gives form to fear and pain. When you bring it forth again, it’ll be whole and healed.”

She nods slowly, and shifts a little in the saddle, her body fitting against mine in ways that remind me of quieter moments back in my quarters at Stonehaven.

We ride in silence for a time, the night wrapping around us, offering temporary concealment as we move through valleys and across ridge lines, the sound of hoofbeats muffled by the soft earth beneath.

When we pause briefly to rest the horses, Ellie follows me when I walk to the edge of the ridge, scanning the horizon. Thornspire Keep lies somewhere beyond the furthest line of hills.

“We need to talk about what happens if things go wrong.” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present moment.

“They won’t.” My response is automatic, a shield against the doubt that could undermine resolve.

“Sacha.” The way she says my name—part exasperation, part concern, and wholly determined—makes my lips twitch despite what we’re potentially riding toward. “If Sereven uses that crystal against you again, if I can’t recreate what happened at Blackstone Ridge, if we’re separated somehow?—”

“There are always contingencies.”

I turn to face her fully. The silver in her eyes catches and holds the light, giving her gaze an otherworldly quality thatreminds me how far removed she is from the woman who first stumbled into my prison.

“If we’re separated, if one of us is captured, the mission remains the same. Secure the crystal. Remove it from Sereven’s reach. Kill him, if at all possible.”

I say it clinically, because that’s how I’ve learned to survive. Strategy without sentiment. Purpose without passion. But her expression shifts, just slightly, a tightening around her eyes, a downward pull at one corner of her mouth, and I know she’s hearing something colder than I mean. Something that echoes the man I was before her, when manipulation and survival was all that mattered because nothing else remained.

“That’s not what I mean.” She steps closer. “If you’re hurt, if I’m hurt … if one of us dies?—”

“That won’t happen.” I cannot allow that to be a consideration.

“You don’t know that!” Frustration fills her voice, her fingers curling into fists. “You nearly died twice already. Sereven clearly wants you dead. If he succeeds?—”

“The others will complete the mission, and take you to safety. The priority then will be returning to Stonehaven with whatever information was gathered. Regrouping, and continuing the fight.”

She studies my face. I’m not entirely certain what she’s looking for.

“That’s it? Complete the mission and move on? As if you’re … expendable?”

She’s not asking about strategy anymore. She’s asking what happens to us, to this thing that’s grown between us. She’s asking if she matters more to me than the cause I’ve served for a lifetime.