Page 12 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

“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 thought what ?” 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 I felt him—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 it how? ” 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 ... then what ?

Do I accept it?

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

The questions swirl in my mind, but they don’t make me move. They don’t make me stop this. Because beneath the disgust and horror, there’s a cold truth I can’t ignore. I need to know what happened to Sacha more than I need to maintain whatever moral high ground I thought I had.

“The purging chamber,” the captain gasps when he can speak again. “They’re restoring the purging chamber.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Lisandra turns pale as death, swaying on her feet. Mira makes a sound, a strangled gasp, and covers her mouth with shaking hands. Varam’s grip on the metal rod tightens until his knuckles turn white, and for a moment, I think he might strike again.

“What does that mean?” I look between them, my stomach twisting at their expressions.

It’s Mira who answers me. “It’s the Authority’s way of destroying magic in those they capture.”

“It kills them,” Lisandra adds, her voice tight. “Slowly and painfully. It rips the power from their bodies while they’re alive. The process can take days.”

A wave of nausea hits, turning my skin clammy. The mist stalker grows agitated beside me, growling and pacing back and forth.

Not imprisonment. Not interrogation. Destruction .

“How long?” I try to ask, but the words stick in my throat.

“When?” Varam presses harder with the blade. “When will they reach Blackvault?”

“Two days!” Desperation makes the captain’s voice high and thin. “They left Ashenvale yesterday. If they make good speed, they will arrive in two more days. Maybe less if they push the pace.”

Two days.

I press my hand against the wall to steady myself, leaving a faint handprint on the stone. Two days before they begin destroying everything that makes Sacha who he is.

“And what do your orders say?” Lisandra asks.

“Preliminary preparations. Warden Krevlin needed advance notice. There are … rituals that must be performed. The purging chamber requires purification before each purge.” His words come faster, tripping over each other. “The purging itself is scheduled for the day after they arrive.”

“The route?” Varam demands. “Which path are they taking him?”

“Along Windspan Heights. Through all the settlements. The High Commander wants to make sure everyone sees what the heretic has been reduced to.”

The image this conjures—Sacha, powerless and chained, paraded like a trophy through towns—makes bile rise in my throat.

“How many guards?” Lisandra asks.

“Twenty of Sereven’s personal guard. Elite soldiers trained to handle magical threats.”

“And Sereven himself?”

The captain shakes his head. “No, he won’t travel with them. He will take a faster route, and be there before the prison escort arrives.”

Fear settles in my stomach. We have less than two days to stop them before Sacha is lost to us for good. Not killed, but unmade . Destroyed piece by piece until nothing remains but an empty shell.

Varam lowers the knife. “Mira, make sure he doesn’t die from his wounds. We may need more from him later.”

He jerks his head, silently telling me and Lisandra to follow him outside. As we file out, the captain calls after us, his voice gaining strength despite his injuries.

“You’ll never reach him in time.” There’s grim certainty in his voice. “And if you follow them to Blackvault, you won’t be able to breach it. Twenty of Sereven’s Elite and the fortress’s defenses? You’re all going to die, and the heretic will be destroyed either way.”

I pause at the doorway, power pooling at my fingertips. When I turn back to him, he shrinks away from my expression.

“Watch me.” The words taste like a promise and a threat combined.

The moment the heavy door closes behind us, Varam turns to me, his face a strange mixture of shock and urgency.

“He’s alive," I say before he can speak. “Sacha is alive. And they’re going to kill him.”

“ If the captain is telling the truth,” Lisandra says. She’s trying to stay calm, and logical, but I can see she believes it too.

I told you so . The words sit heavy on my tongue, but I don’t say them. The argument we had hangs between us. How she refused to listen when I insisted Sacha had survived. How she dismissed my belief as grief talking. Now she’s standing here trying to hedge, trying to avoid admitting she was wrong.

“We need to intercept that transport before it reaches Blackvault,” Varam says, already thinking ahead. “Once he’s behind those walls, a rescue will be impossible.”

“They’ll be approaching the southern pass by now.” Lisandra’s voice is steady. But she won’t look at me.

“Glassfall Gap, then.” Varam says after a moment’s thought. “They’ll have no choice but to go through it to get to Blackvault. It’s our best chance.” He looks at me. “Narrow passage, steep cliffs on either side. Perfect for an ambush.”

“Can we reach it in time?” My voice sounds strained, even to my own ears.

I think of Sacha—his arrogance, those eyes that see straight through pretense.

I think of him captured, weakened, being paraded through settlements as a trophy.

Every moment we delay is another moment he suffers.

Another moment where he might think we’ve abandoned him to his fate.

The ring hidden beneath my tunic seems to grow warmer against my skin. I’ve been keeping it close since his familiar brought it to me, afraid to hope what it might mean. Now I understand. It isn’t a keepsake. It was a message. He’s alive, and he needs me.

“If we leave today,” Varam says. “It’s risky, but it’s our only option.”

“I’ll call a meeting.” Lisandra is already walking away. “If we stand any chance of getting him back, we’ll need to move quickly.”

She strides down the passageway without a backward glance, her spine stiff. No apology. No acknowledgement that maybe, just maybe , I was right to keep believing when everyone else had given up.

As I watch her go, Mira steps out of the cell. “What did you mean back there? Watch me? ”

I think about the power inside me, about the way the stone cracked under my feet. “I mean we get him back. Whatever it takes.”