Page 25 of Stormvein

“And you never will.” He smirks again, showing bloodied teeth.

Another drop of Dragon’s Fire falls onto his arm. He throws his head back, tendons standing out in his neck like cords. A hoarse, guttural sound forces its way from between his clenched teeth. His body arches against the restraints, muscles straining. When he can speak again, the words come out in breathless gasps.

“He disappeared. The crystal unmade his shadows. There was nothing left.”

“But you kept searching.” There’s a dangerous edge to Varam’s voice. “Why search if there was nothing to find?”

The captain says nothing, still panting as he stares at the wall.

Varam nods to Mira, who doesn’t hesitate. She crosses to a small rack near the wall, selects a short metal rod, and hands it to him. The captain’s eyes widen when he sees it.

“This is less refined,” Varam says, almost conversationally, “but just as effective.”

He brings the rod down across the captain’s knuckles. The sound is sickening. A flat crack of metal against bone that echoes off the walls. The captain screams, his body jerking against the restraints hard enough to make the back of the chair creak and bend.

“Wait! There were …” He’s shaking now, chest heaving, words tumbling over each other. Whatever he was thinking about refusing to answer, the metal rod has tipped the balance. “The High Commander thought …”

“He thoughtwhat?” Lisandra steps forward, her pale face twisted into an expression I can’t decipher.

“That the heretic might have survived. That he wasn’t destroyed, but … scattered.”

Not destroyed?

The world stops. My vision narrows to the captain’s bruised face, everything else fading away. Hope and rage battle for dominance in my chest. Power erupts from me, cracking the stone beneath my feet.

“I knew it,” I whisper, voice trembling.

All this time, they told me I was in denial, that I needed to accept his death. But Ifelthim—that last whisper of essence when his familiar came to me. I’ve lived through days of pitying looks, of people speaking in hushed tones when they thought I couldn’t hear. Days of questioning my sanity while clinging to a conviction they called grief. The loneliness of being the only one who knew the truth was its own kind of torture. That connection couldn’t have been formed if he had been completely destroyed.

Lisandra’s head snaps to me, then drops to look at the damage to the floor.

“Did they find him?” I already know the answer. I can see it in the way the captain’s eyes shift from mine, the way his shoulders slump slightly.

He swallows, looking between Varam and me. “Yes. He wasn’t conscious, but he was alive.”

Relief floods through me so intensely that my legs turn to jelly, and I stumble backward. Telren catches my arm, steadying me before I can fall.

“Where is he now?” Varam demands, his blade pressed to the captain’s throat.

The man swallows, the movement causing the blade to nick his skin. A thin line of red appears.

“They had him below Ashenvale, but now they’re moving him.”

“To Blackvault?” Lisandra asks.

The captain nods. “I was sent ahead to prepare the prison for his arrival.”

“Prepare ithow?” Varam’s blade presses closer.

The captain shakes his head, pressing his lips together. Varam doesn’t bother with threats this time. The metal rod comes down across his knuckles again. Bones crack. The sound echoes in the chamber—a wet snap that makes me nauseous. The scream that follows is inhuman, torn from deep in his throat.

My stomach clenches, but I don’t look away. I need answers more than I need clean hands.

If this is what it takes, if this torture yields information that saves his life, then ... thenwhat?

Do I accept it?

When did I become someone who can stand here and not intervene while someone screams in agony?