Page 11 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Chapter Six

ELLIE

Power gathered in stillness moves with greater consequence.

Reflections on Captivity — Sacha Torran’s Journals

Silver sparks dance across my fingertips, twisting around them like liquid mercury before dissipating into the air.

The power flows easier now, less like wildfire and more like a river finding its path.

It’s still dangerous, still foreign, but it’s beginning to respond to my will rather than simply erupting in chaotic bursts.

Each time I call it, I feel the ghost of Sacha’s presence.

The memory of his shadows intertwining with my light that night in Ashenvale.

The emptiness where he should be aches worse than the burning beneath my skin.

“Again,” Telren says from his seat across from me. “But this time, try to hold it there. Shape it.”

A week of these sessions has yielded slow progress.

Telren’s methods are based solely on theory, learned from books, scrolls, and meditation techniques.

He isn’t any kind of Veinblood or magic user, if there is such a thing, so everything he offers comes from what he’s read about or witnessed.

He watches me all the time, studying my power like it’s an interesting science project rather than something alive and burning through my veins.

I release a slow breath, and concentrate on the energy moving through my body. When I summon it this time, the silver appears more gradually, pooling in my palm before rising in a slender column that shimmers like heat above stone.

“That’s it,” Telren murmurs. “Feel the boundary between control and release. Find that balance point.”

I focus on the column of light, willing it to condense, to hold its shape, and for one brief moment, it responds, becoming more solid, more defined.

Then a voice calls from the doorway, and my concentration shatters, turning it back into a puddle of silver in my palm again before disappearing in a flash that blinds me.

“Elder Telren!”

I turn my head, blinking away silver afterimages until the figure in the doorway becomes clear. One of the younger fighters—Kiran, I think—is standing at the threshold, breathless from running.

“What is it?” Telren rises slowly to his feet.

“Commander Varam sent me. They’ve captured an Authority captain. Scouts found him near the western pass not long after sunrise. He was carrying coded orders.”

An Authority officer with orders?

My heart hits my ribs hard, hope rising before I can stop it.

The power I’m holding sends bursts of shock along my nerves, pushing harder against my control.

I’ve been existing in this half-life since I argued with Lisandra—training, eating, sleeping while everyone tiptoes around me, afraid to speak his name.

As if not saying it makes his absence easier to bear. As if anything could.

They all still believe he’s dead, and keep insisting that my denial is part of the grieving process. Maybe it is. I don’t have proof that he’s alive. Everything points toward him being dead. But they didn’t feel what I did.

If they’ve caught one of the Authority’s men, maybe we can get an answer.

“Where are they holding him?” I’m already on my feet.

Kiran glances at Telren, hesitating. At the older man’s nod, he answers. “The lower chambers. Varam and Lisandra are questioning him.”

“I want to be there.”

“Ellie, this isn’t something you should witness. Varam can be … thorough.” Telren’s voice carries a warning.

His meaning is clear enough, but I don’t care. My fingers curl into fists.

“If he knows anything about what happened at River Crossing, or has any information about Sacha, then I need to hear it myself.” I meet his gaze. “If there’s even the slightest chance—” My voice breaks. I swallow hard, forcing steel back into my tone. “I need to know. I need to hear it for myself.”

Telren sighs. “They’re not going to welcome the interruption, Ellie.”

“I don’t care. If Varam sent for you, then he’s expecting to be interrupted anyway. And he knows I’m with you.” The glow builds around me, reflecting across the stone. “If I’m this Stormvein you all think I am, then I have a right to be there.”

I’m not sure I believe I am this thing they claim from prophecy, but right now, I’ll use anything I can to get myself in that room and find out if this Authority captain knows anything about Sacha.

The mist stalker rises from its corner, gliding to my side like a silent guardian. Telren’s eyes shift to it, then back to me, resignation settling over his features.

“Very well. But remember, war breeds necessity. Try not to judge Varam and the others on what you’re about to see.”

The walk through Stonehaven’s tunnels to where they have the Authority captain takes forever. Fighters step aside as we pass, their eyes lingering on me, and on the mist stalker beside me. Whispers follow in our wake.

Stormvein .

Varel et’Arvath

They say it like it means something. The same way they once said Vareth’el .

A title. A prophecy.

A week ago, I rejected it outright. The name is a burden, a mantle I never asked for but can’t escape. But it doesn’t stop them.

We move lower into a section of Stonehaven I’ve never visited. The air is stale and the walls are damp. This part of the mountain fortress isn’t part of the regular living quarters. It’s old, carved deeper into the mountain, a place where people are brought to be forgotten.

Two guards stand outside a wooden door reinforced with iron bands. They straighten as we approach, exchanging uneasy glances.

“She shouldn’t be here,” one says to Telren.

“She has questions for the prisoner.” Telren’s tone leaves no room for argument, despite his attempts to convince me to stay away.

The guard hesitates, then nods and pushes open the door. The mist stalker follows us inside. Its paws make no sound on the ground, but the air shifts when it enters, like the room itself is aware of its presence.

The chamber beyond is dimly lit by a single brazier, shadows dancing across rough stone walls.

A man sits in the center, bound to a chair which has been bolted to the floor.

His crimson uniform is torn and bloodied.

His face is bruised, a knot forming at his temple, but he remains straight-backed, defiance in every line of his face.

Varam circles him slowly, a thin blade gleaming in his hand.

Lisandra and Mira stand at opposite sides of the room, wearing identical fierce expressions that transform their faces into masks I barely recognize.

Blood trickles from fresh cuts along the captain’s forearms—shallow, thin lines designed to cause pain without long-lasting damage.

“Where were you taking those orders?” Varam’s voice is calm, almost pleasant, but there’s a note underneath it that makes my skin crawl. “Please don’t waste my time claiming you don’t know. No one sends a captain from the Elite Circle as a blind messenger.”

The captain’s eyes stay fixed on the far wall, jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his cheek twitch.

Varam nods to Mira, who walks over and hands him a small vial containing clear liquid. He takes it, uncorking it with his teeth.

“This is Dragon’s Fire. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Last chance to speak willingly.”

The captain’s jaw clenches tighter, determination written across his face.

Varam tilts the vial, letting a single drop fall onto one of the open cuts.

The effect is instant and terrifying. The captain’s entire body goes rigid, every muscle seizing at once.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his muscles spasm uncontrollably.

His bound hands claw at the armrests, nails scraping against wood.

When it finally subsides, he’s left gasping, sweat streaking his face to mix with the blood.

I force myself to watch, even as my stomach protests.

This isn’t like when Sacha killed the Authority patrol.

That was brutal, yes, but it was quick, over in seconds.

There was no drawn-out suffering. With those men, I demanded to know why.

I couldn’t understand Sacha’s coldness about it.

But this man might know where Sacha is. Might know if he’s alive or dead. That’s worth more than my discomfort.

“Blackvault.” He spits the word out between ragged breaths.

The atmosphere in the room changes between one heartbeat and the next. Lisandra goes still, her face draining of color. Mira’s fingers clench into fists so tight her knuckles crack. Varam freezes mid-circle, his hand holding the vial lowering.

“ Blackvault? ” The shock in Lisandra’s voice is unmistakable. She takes a step forward, then another. “That’s impossible. Blackvault is in ruins.”

I turn to Mira. She answers before the question leaves my lips.

“A place the Authority claimed. They turned it into an execution site for Veinbloods. Hundreds died there.” Her voice is low, but it carries clearly in the sudden silence. “It was sealed after the last one was killed.”

“Not anymore,” the captain says, his mouth curling despite the obvious pain he’s in. There’s triumph in his eyes.

“Why? What requires that godforsaken place to be opened?” Varam demands.

The captain’s eyes land on me. They narrow, focusing on the faint glow along my forearms that I can never fully suppress. For a second, surprise flickers across his bruised features, before he blinks and tears his gaze away.

Varam moves again, raising the vial. “Answer me.”

“Sereven!” He blurts the name out before another drop falls. “The High Commander’s orders. They came directly from him.”

“What happened at River Crossing?” I can’t stay silent any longer.

The captain’s eyes shift back to me. “You were there.” It’s not a question.

“I saw Sereven use a blue crystal against Sa—against the Shadowvein Lord.” I step closer. Varam immediately puts himself between me and the captain, but I push around him. “I saw what happened. What I don’t know is what came after.”