Page 80 of Stormvein

“Do you have a plan for when we reach Stonehaven?” I move to walk beside Sacha when he calls for us to carry on.

The two scouts walking ahead exchange glances. Even without words, the interaction is clear—here she goes again.

Sacha glances at me. “Watch first. The traitor won’t expose themselves straight away.”

“How are you planning to figure out who it is?”

Mira sighs at my continued interrogation, and gives a small shake of her head.

“By what they do when they discover I’m not only alive, but healed, and in full control of my powers.” His voice is cold. “Fear reveals truth faster than torture.”

I study his profile, the hard angles of his face catching sunlight through the trees. “You’re not the same man I knew before.”

This time I hear a sharp intake of breath from someone behind me.

“No.”

“I don’t mean your powers. It’s everything about you. The way you move, the way you speak, the decisions you’re making.”

Everyone has fallen back now, giving us space. I don’t know if it’s out of respect or from fear of being too close to a potential argument.

Sacha stops, turning to face me. “The man you met in the tower was imprisoned for twenty-seven years. He lived with the belief that he would never escape. The man you traveled with was one born of desperation.” He looks away, and sets off at a brisk pace again. I have to jog to keep up with him. “Then that man was captured and tortured … again. The man who emerged from that had to become something else.”

“And what is that?”

“Someone who will end this war rather than merely survive it.” His voice turns harder. “Someone who will make Sereven pay for every drop of blood he’s spilled.”

When I fall back, Mira gives me an exasperated look. “Only you could question him like that and not be savaged by his tongue.”

We continue walking, the forest thickening around us as we move deeper into the valley. By late afternoon, clouds have gathered overhead, darkening as quickly as my mood. Each time I catch sight of Sacha’s back, irritation spikes. The first distant rumble of thunder matches the churning frustration in my stomach.

Sacha pushes us hard, his pace unrelenting despite the weather. A cool breeze picks up, carrying the scent of rain and stirring the leaves. We reach a river as the first drops fall. Unlike the raging waters where we lost Sacha, this one is narrower, with stones breaking the surface in several places.

“We cross here.” Sacha points to where the stones form an uneven path. “The stones will be slippery, so watch your footing.”

We go one by one, Varam first, while Sacha remains behind. Some jump from stone to stone, while others wade through the shallower sections. I hesitate at the edge, unsure whether I should even try jumping across the stones or opt for getting wet.

“Do you need help?” Sacha’s voice comes from directly behind me.

I shake my head. His words solidify my decision. I’m determined to do this on my own, to prove I am as capable as everyone else, and to try and keep some small distance from this new, harder version of Sacha.

The first few stones are easy enough, my feet finding purchase on the rough surface. But halfway across, sunlight glints off patches of moss growing slick and green. My confidence wavers. My foot slides as I land on one, arms pinwheeling as the river rushes beneath me. Before I can fall, shadows materialize like smoke, wrapping around my wrist with surprising gentleness, pulling me upright. A warm hand slides around my waist, and I find myself pulled back into a solid body. The contact sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with fear of falling.

“I’ve got you.” Sacha’s voice is soft against my ear, his breath warm on my neck. For a brief moment, he sounds like himself again. The man before the torture, the one I was beginning to?—

I cut off that thought before it finishes forming. My heart is hammering against my ribs, and I can’t tell if it’s from the near fall or his proximity. His arm remains firm around my waist, shadows tethering me to him like ribbons, until we reach the opposite bank. The river rushes on beside us, oblivious to the storm of confusion inside me.

As soon as I step off the final stone, his shadows dissolve into wisps, and his hand falls away. The abrupt loss of contact leaves me strangely cold. I glance back at him, but he’s not looking at me, half turned toward Varam, as though the moment never happened.

The rain falls harder.

Eventually, Sacha leads us to a small cave tucked into a hillside. It’s not large, but it offers protection from the downpour. No one asks how he knew it was there. I think I know, though. The shadows he commands are more than weapons and extensions of his will. He can see through them, sense where they are. I’m confident that his awareness told him the cave was here.

“We’ll stay here tonight. Dry off, and …” He glances at me, “... hope the rain lets up before morning.”

We all duck inside. The cave widens once we’re through the entrance, giving us a little more room than expected. Some gather at the entrance to watch the downpour. I find a spot near the back wall, trying to wring water from my soaked clothes. A violent shiver runs through me as the wind catches on the entrance and blasts through.

Sacha moves through the group, speaking quietly to each fighter. They dip their heads and move further inside. Without another word, he looks at the cave’s entrance. Shadows flow from his fingertips, weaving into a dense barrier that completely seals the opening. The howling wind cuts off abruptly, leaving only the muffled sound of the rain.