Page 10 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Chapter Five

ELLIE

Fury sharpens what grief cannot carry.

Writings of the Flamevein Oracles

“Ellie.” Lisandra’s voice gives nothing away when I walk into the council chamber with Varam, but her eyes narrow slightly, the only indication of her surprise. Her hands remain perfectly still on the table before her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Varam thought I should attend.” I slide into the empty seat beside Varam, hyper aware of every stare.

Curiosity mingles with suspicion, wariness with something disturbingly close to worship.

Their gazes strip me bare, reducing me to a symbol rather than a person.

I’m not Ellie here. I’m the outsider who freed the Shadowvein Lord.

The anomaly who might be Stormvein. I’m no longer just . .. human .

“Very well.” She pauses for a second longer, then returns to the discussion they must have been having before I arrived, dismissal clear in her tone.

“As I was saying, our scouts are reporting increased Authority movements in the eastern areas. Their patrols have doubled near Ravencross. Caravans are being searched twice, sometimes three times, before they’re allowed through. ”

A map spread across the table shows markers in red and black where Authority forces are, and I assume, places where Veinwarden knots are located. My eyes immediately search for River Crossing, and I find it marked with a small black cross. The meaning is clear. A death marker for where Sacha fell.

My fingers curl around the base of my seat, stopping me from jumping to my feet. They’ve already written him off as dead and moved on to whatever comes next without any hesitation at all. The casual finality of it makes me sick.

The meeting continues, focused on reports and strategies that feel meaningless to me when they all assume Sacha is gone. I’m questioning why Varam suggested I be present, and am considering leaving, when someone mentions my name.

“What about Ellie’s power?” one of the Veinwardens asks. “If it continues to develop?—”

“She will continue to train with Telren.” Lisandra’s voice is firm. It’s obvious to me that she doesn’t want to talk about it. "That’s all that matters for now."

All that matters for now . As if I’m a resource to be managed, not a person grieving for?—

“And after?” I can’t stay silent any longer. “What then?”

“Then we assess what role you might play in defending what remains of the Veinwardens.” Her tone cools by several degrees. “Lord Torran’s death doesn’t change our purpose. We’ve survived losses before, and we will do so again.”

The way she dismisses Sacha’s death as something that changes nothing burns low and sharp behind my ribs. It spreads upward, a slow ignition, climbing my throat, singing under my skin, impossible to ignore.

“And what if he isn’t dead?” Around the table, breaths catch and silence falls. “What if he survived?”

Lisandra’s expression hardens, lips pressing together and fine lines appearing at the corners of her mouth. “Ellie.” Her tone is exasperated. “We’ve been through this.”

“No, we haven’t .” I lean forward, forcing her to meet my gaze. The pressure inside doesn’t fade. It builds, hot and bright. A faint charge prickles across my arms, dangerously close to spilling out. I can see it reflected in her eyes. "I told you, there was no body. No definitive proof of death.”

“Mira and Varam were there. I also spoke to Mishak and Rasha about their accounts. They saw what happened.” Lisandra’s voice is sharp.

“So did I.” My voice rises despite my efforts to remain calm. “And I’m the only one who seems to care that we have no certainty.”

“Tell me then. What did you see that was different from everyone else, Ellie?” She turns toward me, straightening to her full height. “Describe to me exactly what happened to Lord Torran, in your opinion.”

Her directness catches me off guard. “I saw …” I’ve repeated this so many times already today, but it still hurts. I take a deep breath. “I saw Sereven use that crystal. I saw Sacha’s shadows being torn apart. But then everything changed. The darkness collapsed. Just pulled back into nothing.”

“Changed how?” Varam asks, his voice soft.

“Like it was …” I struggle to find the right words. “Not destroyed. Gone . His raven came to me afterward. If he was truly dead, why would it do that?”

“Because you were the only person left standing with any hint of Veinblood power running through you.” Lisandra shakes her head. “Because you were the closest?—”

“Because I know he’s alive!” The conviction in my voice surprises even me.

Around the table, faces register various degrees of discomfort and annoyance. All except Mira and Varam, who both watch with unreadable eyes and blank expressions.

“You don’t know anything!” Lisandra’s voice turns cold. “You have been in this world for what? A few weeks? You may have freed him from the tower, but that doesn’t make you an expert on his power or the Authority.”

“I saw what no one else did. I felt it when his familiar?—”

“You felt grief! Shock. Trauma. All of which can make the mind see what it wants to see rather than what is.”

“So now you’re saying I’m delusional?” The pressure spikes again. Heat pulses up my spine. Several Veinwardens shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“I’m saying you’re in denial . Which is understandable, but we can’t base strategy on false hope.

Mira and Mishak were beside you and saw what happened.

Varam was with him when they were ambushed.

He knew how unlikely it was for Lord Torran to survive.

Rasha saw Varam when he arrived at the meeting point …

alone . Sereven’s crystal attacked Lord Torran, and his power was disrupted.

Darkness surrounded him, and when it faded, there was nothing left.

No trace. No body, as you said. Because there was nothing left to find. ”

“That’s exactly my point,” I snap. “No body. No proof. Just your assumption that?—”

“ My assumption?” Her voice rises. “I’ve been leading the Veinwardens of Stonehaven for years .

I know the reality of war, of loss, little girl .

I’ve buried friends, mentored orphans, and made impossible choices to keep Stonehaven breathing.

I know what it means when someone disappears like that in battle. You don’t.”

The condescension in her voice stokes my anger. Little girl . As though everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve seen, means nothing because I haven’t been fighting their war for as long as she has.

The room crackles with tension. A faint shimmer rises at the edge of my vision. Chairs creak. Breaths stall. Someone scoots their chair backward, away from me.

“This isn’t about experience or leadership,” I counter, while everyone around me watches our argument with wide eyes and growing concern. “This is about you refusing to even consider?—”

“Enough!” Her hand slams down onto the table. “We are done here. We have real threats to address, not fantasies to chase.”

She gathers her things with sharp, angry movements.

The other Veinwardens scramble to follow, clearly uncomfortable with witnessing this confrontation.

Most file out quickly, but I catch a few exchanging glances as they leave.

Varam rises to his feet slowly. When I look at him, he gives me a slow nod, then looks at Mira.

Something passes between them, and she retakes her seat, studying me with a thoughtful expression.

“You’re not making any allies,” she says softly, when the door closes.

“I’m not trying to.” I shove to my feet, anger still burning through my veins. “They can argue strategy all day long. I want to find Sacha.”

She stares at me for a long second, then nods as though she’s come to some decision. “Come with me.”

Without waiting for my response, she walks out of the room. After a moment’s hesitation, I follow her. She leads me through Stonehaven’s passages, climbing narrow stairs that wind upward through the mountain. The path steepens, the air growing cooler as we ascend.

My legs are shaky, the adrenaline from the confrontation still coursing through me. My hands tremble slightly, and my skin vibrates in irregular bursts. Each step feels like an effort, as though I’m climbing through water instead of air, but I keep up with her.

We walk in silence for several minutes, my anger from the council chamber gradually fading into exhaustion. The argument replays on a loop in my mind. Lisandra’s dismissal, the neutrality of everyone else, and the way they all looked at me like I was either a child or a threat.

“Where are we going?” I finally break the silence.

“Somewhere we can talk without anyone overhearing.” She doesn’t look back.

The passage narrows, forcing us to move in single file. Torches give way to natural light filtering through gaps in the rock. My chest burns from the climb and the altitude, but Mira’s pace never slows.

“You handled that poorly.”

“I don’t care!”

“But you should.” She glances over her shoulder. “Lisandra isn’t your enemy, Ellie. She’s trying to hold together what’s left of the Veinwardens while mourning a man we’ve lost for the second time.”

“By giving up on him.”

“By facing reality.” She stops and turns to face me. “Do you know how many losses we’ve endured over the years? How many times we’ve had to choose between hope and survival?” Before I can respond, she turns and continues climbing.

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 he is out 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’el has 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. For him .

For Sacha. Wherever he is.