Page 77 of Stormvein

“Look at it.”

She turns her head, focusing on the mist stalker.

“It’s not separate from you. It’s an extension, formed from specific aspects of your power. Feel the connection between you. Not with your hands, but with your awareness. The familiar is linked to you by channels of energy, the same silver light that flows beneath your skin. Imagine those channels of power reversing direction. You’re not trying to sever the connection, but changing its flow. The familiar doesn’t disappear, it returns to its source.”

She closes her eyes again, and her brow furrows in concentration. The glow around her brightens as she focuses on the mist stalker. For several seconds nothing happens, then the creature’s form begins to shimmer, its edges becoming less defined.

“That’s it.” I move closer, drawn to her. “It’s not about forcing control, it’s about recognition. The familiar is you, extended outward. Bring it home.” My hand lifts, almost touching her shoulder, then stops, caught between instinct and restraint. The urge to guide her through physical contact is strong,unusual, adesire for connection that has nothing to do with the practical purposes of this lesson.

The mist stalker moves toward her, each step making it less substantial, more energy than form. The silver light creates patterns, tendrils reaching out and drawing the familiar back to its source.

When it finally touches her, its form dissolves into pure silver energy that flows beneath her skin, merging with the power already there. The light flares briefly, then settles.

Ellie gasps, her eyes popping open. “I can feel it,” she whispers. “Inside. Not gone, just … part of me now.”

“You should be able to call it out when you need it, and recall it when you don’t. The constant drain on your power will lessen, giving you better control over the light.”

She looks at her hands, turning them over to examine the silver light now flowing in more defined patterns. “It feels … organized now. Less chaotic.”

“The familiar will help you direct the power. The storm energy that awakened in you at River Crossing is wild by nature. The familiar will provide focus.”

I can feel a pull toward her that has nothing to do with power, and everything to do with the connection that’s been forming between us since the tower. I take a step back, putting some distance between us.

“Thank you.” She lifts her head to look at me. “What will you do now?”

I don’t hesitate. “The Authority must fall. Sereven must answer for what he’s done. Not only to me, but everyone he’s destroyed because of his hunger for Veinblood power, while publicly condemning it must end.”

“And you’ll kill anyone who stands in your way.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t treat it as one. “Yes.”

She studies me for a long moment, silver light casting strange patterns across her face.

“What happens when it’s over?” The question comes quietly. “If you succeed in destroying the Authority, in killing Sereven, in accomplishing everything you’re planning … what then?”

The question catches me unprepared. I’ve spent twenty-seven years focused on escape, on survival, on resistance. The future beyond victory isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to consider. To do so would have been a dangerous indulgence in the tower, a distraction from the single-minded focus required to survive.

“I don’t know,” I say finally. The admission feels strangely vulnerable. Vengeance has always been enough. The only future I permitted myself to imagine. Now standing here with her, possibilities I never considered hover just beyond reach. “That’s a question for whoever survives to see it.”

She studies me, the silver in her eyes catching the moonlight. The way she stares makes me feel transparent, as though she can see all the ways I’ve held myself together over the years. “Do you expect to die in this war?”

“I expect to finish what was started.” The words come automatically, the answer I’ve given myself countless times. “Whatever the cost. If my death is required, then that’s what I will give.”

“And that doesn’t frighten you? The idea of dying when you’ve gotten free?”

“There are worse things than death.”

She shakes her head, looking away.

“We should go back inside.”

She hesitates, clearly wanting to say more, but then nods. I fall into step beside her as we walk back to the entrance to the underground chamber.

“Will you wake someone to take over the watch?”

“No. You all need rest more than I do.”

When we reach the underground space, I pause in the doorway and look around. The fighters are all spread out around the chamber, most on the ground with no mat separating them from the cold stone. I extend a hand, shadows flowing onward in controlled streams. They spread out beneath each sleeping form, creating cushions of darkness that contour perfectly to tired bodies. Several of them stir briefly, but don’t wake, before settling down into the unexpected comfort.