Page 19 of Stormvein

“Ellie, even if you’re right, we don’t know if they have him or where. We have no idea where to look.”

My eyes burn, a lump in my throat makes it impossible to speak. I feel like I’ve been turned inside out, but hebelievesme. I close my eyes, listening as he stands and walks away, boots scuffing lightly against the stone.

Tomorrow, we’re going to do this again. But right now, I can barely think past the ache in every muscle, the burn in my chest, and the grief that feels even heavier after being forced to speak it aloud.

Eventually, I get to my feet and make my way back into the main passages of Stonehaven. My legs feel unsteady, and every breath is shaky. All I want to do is get back to Sacha’s chambers and hide from the world.

People step aside as I pass, some nodding respectfully, others watching with barely disguised curiosity. A few whisper among themselves, glances sliding toward me before darting away.

"Varel et’Arvath," someone murmurs as I pass, giving me a shallow bow.

The unfamiliar title sets my teeth on edge. I don’t know what it means, but the reverence in the speaker’s voice makes me recoil. I’m not theiranything. I’m just Ellie Bennet, trying to make it through one moment at a time.

Turning a corner, I almost collide with Varam. His hand shoots out to steady me. Once he’s certain I’m not going to topple over, he steps back.

"Ellie. How did your training go?" He sounds tired, and I look at him properly for the first time since we returned from RiverCrossing. His eyes are shadowed, and grief has marked new lines around his mouth. He’s aged years in the space of a few days.

“It was hard.” Such a simple word for what Telren put me through, but I don’t have the energy for more explanation.

“Training always is when you first start. It works muscles you aren’t accustomed to using.”

We stand in awkward silence for a moment.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Sach—my quarters.”

Something shifts across his face when I catch myself. He knows where I’m sleeping. Knows I can’t bear to leave the space that still holds traces of him.

“Would you mind if I walked with you?”

I shake my head, and we begin walking along the passageway. Our footsteps echo off the walls. After a few minutes, I glance at him.

“I keep expecting to see him,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Around every corner. In his quarters. Like if I look for long enough, he’ll be there.”

Varam’s steps slow slightly. “I know that feeling. It will fade with time.”

“I don’t want it to fade. Hewillcome back.”

Varam doesn’t reply, but I can feel the pity in his gaze. The certainty that I’m clinging to false hope.

“You knew him before. What was he like then?”

He doesn’t reply for a second or two, then draws in a deep breath. “Different. So different you wouldn’t recognize him.”

“How?”

“He couldn’t sit still through a planning session to save his life.” A shadow of a smile crosses his face. “The rest of us would be mapping routes, discussing strategies, and Sacha would last maybe ten minutes before finding some excuse to disappear.”

“That sounds frustrating.” And not at all like the man I know.

“Maddening. But then he’d come back with information none of us had considered, or a wild plan of his own because he’d gone and scouted the territory himself, or talked to contacts we didn’t even know he had.” He gives a gruff laugh. “I remember one time. We were planning a coordinated strike against an Authority outpost. Spent days working out the approach, timing everything perfectly.” His voice takes on a different quality, like he’s seeing it happen again. “Sacha sat through the whole meeting, nodding along. The next morning, we woke to find the outpost already burning. He’d gone alone during the night.”

“Were you angry?”

“Furious.” A genuine smile ghosts across his lips now. “Until he explained how he’d noticed a shift change we missed, and found a vulnerability in their defenses that would only last until dawn. His recklessness always had its own ruthless logic.”

I can almost see it. This younger, more impulsive version of Sacha, driven by something other than calculation.