Page 22 of Stormvein

Eventually, we emerge onto a small outcropping carved into the mountainside. The view stretches for miles in every direction. Dark forests giving way to valleys of copper and gold, distant peaks still capped with snow. Below us, clouds move in slow rivers across the lower elevations, obscuring then revealing the landscape in shifting patterns. The wind is sharp and clean against my face, carrying scents of pine and distant rain.

It takes my breath away.

The sheer scale of it is almost overwhelming. Endless mountains rolling into the distance like frozen waves, valleys so deep they seem to swallow light. After the confined spaces of Stonehaven, the openness feels almost disorienting. The air is thin here, crisp with the promise of snow.

Mira stands beside me, her cloak whipping around her legs in the wind. For a long moment, we exist in silence, the argument already feeling distant against this vast backdrop. I watch as the wind catches her hair, revealing the toll these past days have taken. Lines I hadn’t noticed before, a weariness that goes deeper than physical exhaustion.

“This was his place,” she says finally. “When decisions weighed too heavily, he would come here.” Her voice softens with memory. “He said he needed to see how small everything was to remember how large the world could be.”

The thought of Sacha standing in this exact spot—before the tower, before the weight of years changed him—brings pain so intense it almost drops me to my knees. I can imagine him here, looking out at this same view, trying to find answers in the vastness below.

“How often did he come here?”

“Often enough.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Especially after difficult decisions. After we lost people.” Her gaze moves to me. “This was his refuge when Ashenvale fell, after his parents died.”

The wind picks up, and I pull my cloak tighter around myself. The cold feels good against the heat that’s been building in my chest.

“I don’t believe he survived, Ellie.” Mira’s confession comes quietly, almost lost to the wind. When she turns to face me, her eyes hold years of loss and hard-won wisdom. “But I admire your refusal to accept it. More than that …” Her voice catches slightly. “I envy it. The ability to hope so fiercely after ... everything.”

“It’s more than hope.” I stare out at the landscape, wondering if somewhere beyond those mountains, Sacha might be alive. “It’s knowing. I need proof to silence it. Or proof to follow it.”

“And if you find that proof? What then? If you learn with absolute certainty that he’s gone?”

The question is like an arrow to the chest. I haven’t allowed myself to consider it since we came back. What happens if I’m faced with proof that he’s gone? If the hope I’m holding onto is proved wrong?

“I don’t know.” My voice is small.

She nods, as if she expected that answer. “Then learn control. Train with Telren. Master your power. The storm inside you is wild, unpredictable. It’s dangerous to yourself and others without direction.” She pauses. “And if it turns out that you’re right … if heisout there, wounded or imprisoned, you’ll need every advantage to find him. And he’ll need you at your strongest.”

The admission—that she’s willing to entertain the possibility, however slim—feels like a victory. Small, but real.

“Telren said he believed me, but you’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel like I’m crazy.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” A small smile tips her lips up. “But Lord Torran himself would tell you to prepare for the worst while hoping for the best. It’s what kept him alive for so long.”

We stand in silence, watching as the sun shifts position, casting new shadows across the mountains. The clouds shift and reform below us, creating patterns that form and dissolve without warning.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For bringing me here. For listening to me.”

She nods once, the faintest hint of a smile touching her lips. “For what it’s worth, Ellie ... I hope you’re right. Our Vareth’elhas returned once from impossible odds. Perhaps he can do it again.”

Her acknowledgement that my hope might not be entirely foolish is a small concession, but it feels monumental after everything we’ve been through.

The sun continues its descent, painting the western sky in brilliant oranges and deep purples. Long shadows stretch across the valley floor, reaching toward us like dark fingers. The clouds below catch the light, transforming into molten gold for a brief, perfect moment.

Tomorrow I’ll return to Telren. I’ll learn what he can teach me. I’ll try to master this power that chose me without my consent. I’ll face the pain, and the memories, over and over if need be.

Not for prophecies or titles. Not for the Veinwardens who see me as a weapon or a symbol. Not even for saving a world I never chose.

But for the simple, desperate need to know. To transform hope into certainty, one way or another.

For truth. For proof. Forhim.

For Sacha. Wherever he is.

Chapter Six

ELLIE