Page 19 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Movement catches my eye, and I turn my head, scanning the horizon. A flash of silver on the ridge to the south. And then I see them. Too many figures. Too organized to be anything but Authority soldiers.

“Oh no! Kiran!” I point. “Look!”

His face drains of color. “That’s not possible. Our scouts would have seen?—”

“They’re coming from a different direction. They must have—” My stomach lurches as the truth hits me. “They knew! Somehow they knew we’d be here.”

My mind scrambles, searching through the last couple of days. The captured Authority captain. The sealed orders. The near-perfect details about Sacha’s transport route.

The way everything fell into our laps so perfectly.

“It’s a trap.” Shock coats my voice as the pieces click together. My mouth goes dry. My hands start shaking. “The captain, the information. It’s too perfect. They wanted us to attempt this rescue.”

Kiran’s face matches the horror that must show on mine. “A setup to draw out Lord Torran’s followers.”

My mind races through every conversation at Stonehaven, searching for inconsistencies, for moments when information could have changed hands. For who knew what, and when.

“Ashenvale. They knew he was going there. They knew about his plan.” We stare at each other. “Someone is betraying us. Someone inside Stonehaven.”

He fumbles for the signal horn at his belt, but it’s too late. The reinforcements are already moving down the slopes toward the gap. At least thirty soldiers are closing in on the archers, who are completely exposed from behind, and have no idea they’re coming.

“We need to warn them.” I’m already rising to my feet.

“No!” Kiran grabs my arm and pulls me back down. “If you move, if your power?—”

The mist stalker makes a sound—a low, vibrating growl that seems to come from everywhere at once. The pressure against my mind intensifies, becoming almost painful.

Below, Varam raises his hand, holds it for one breath, two, then brings it down in a sharp slash.

Arrows fly from hidden positions, striking the convoy guards with deadly precision. Three guards drop instantly, crimson blooming across their uniforms. Two more stagger, reaching for arrows embedded in shoulders and thighs.

The blocking force emerges, cutting off the exit. Varam leads them, his blade already wet with blood as he cuts through a guard who barely has time to raise his weapon. Mira appears at his flank, the twin daggers in her grip finding the space between the armor plates of another soldier.

I hold my breath, and for one heart-stopping moment, I believe it might work despite the reinforcements bearing down on them. That they might reach Sacha before it all falls apart.

Then a shout goes up. The guards have spotted the soldiers coming to their aid.

Our archers change target, redirecting their fire toward this new threat, but they’re visible now, their positions revealed. One falls, an Authority crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Another scrambles for better cover only to be cut down mid-movement.

The ambush dissolves into chaos. Our fighters are caught in a vise.

Authority forces press in from both directions.

Metal clashes against metal. Shouts of pain and rage echo off the cliffs.

Varam and three others are fighting desperately to reach the cage wagon, but the guards have formed a protective ring around it, buying time for reinforcements to arrive.

Thunder rumbles overhead. My heart pounds against my ribs.

I need to help them. I need to reach Sacha.

The mist stalker tenses beside me, muscles bunching.

Before I can react, it launches itself from our position, a blur of silver-gray against the stone.

It flows down the steep slope. Its body distorting, limbs lengthening unnaturally.

Claws unfold from its paws, curved and long.

Its lips peel back to reveal teeth like serrated blades.

“No!”

I throw out one hand, but the creature is already beyond my grasp, answering a call more primal than any command I could give. The mist stalker has gone rogue, disobeying my order to stay at my side. It’s almost reached the convoy, dropping low to creep the rest of the way.

It’s hunting them.

The world tilts on its axis, sending a wave of nausea through me. The mountains, the cliff, the sky above me … it all blurs and spins.

“Ellie?” Kiran’s voice seems to come from far away.

I can’t respond. All I can do is watch, horrified and fascinated, as the mist stalker tears into the Authority reinforcements.

The creature moves with a fluid grace that defies its size.

And then my consciousness splits. I’m both here and there—watching from behind the rocks and moving inside its body, as its muscles bunch and release with a strength I’ve never known.

Through its eyes, the world changes. Colors flatten and sharpen. Scents rise like signals. Sweat. Blood. Fear . And something deeper. Something familiar. Something that pulls us forward with single-minded purpose. Sacha’s scent, faint but unmistakable even beneath layers of blood and pain.

The mist stalker’s body swells with each stride. We stretch further, faster, stronger . We are no longer separate entities, but something new. Something forged in desperation and rage. Predator and prey. Weapon and will.

My first kill comes so easily that it shocks me.

A soldier turns, eyes widening in terror at our approach.

He tries to react, but he’s too slow. We launch ourselves at his throat, teeth puncturing flesh with sickening ease.

Hot blood floods my-its- our mouth, copper-sweet and thick. His scream gurgles into silence.

I should be horrified. I should recoil from this violence. Instead, savage satisfaction floods through us both.

This is justice. This is necessary. This is retribution.

We tear through the Authority forces with methodical brutality.

The resistance of armor giving way beneath our claws sends shivers of pleasure through our shared nerves.

The crack of bone between powerful jaws becomes a percussion of vengeance.

A soldier raises his blade. We duck beneath it and disembowel him with a single swipe.

His insides spill across the stone, hot and slick.

Back in my body, I know that I’ll be horrified by this later, but right now, in the moment, I revel in it. In the violence. In the blood. In the death I’m dealing.

A soldier fires a crossbow. The bolt grazes our flank, pain flaring sharp then dull as we launch ourselves at his face, tearing through eye sockets and bone with equal ease.

With each kill, the link between us grows stronger. I am changed with every life we take. Something is awakening inside me, a part I didn’t know was there.

Is this me? Is this what I’ve always been capable of? Or is this Sacha’s influence, his shadow nature bleeding into mine when his raven hit my chest?

Whatever the answer is, I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Not until we reach him.

Is this how Sacha feels when shadow flows through him? This terrible rightness. Like everything inside him finally fits.

Our fighters rally behind the chaos we’ve unleashed.

Varam seizes the opening, cutting through the thinning guards to the wagon.

His blade finds the convoy captain’s throat before the man can even lift his weapon.

Three Authority soldiers move to intercept him, but we, the creature and I, get there first, slamming into them like a battering ram with claws extended.

Blood sprays in an arc across the ground.

The Authority reinforcements falter. Some break rather than facing the monster with bared teeth and bloodied fur, fleeing back up the hill. Others try to hold their line, but it collapses under the mist stalker’s relentless attack.

Through its eyes, I watch Mira force the lock open on the cage. The door swings wide. Hands reach in to lift Sacha’s broken body with the care reserved for the dead or dying. His head lolls lifelessly, blood-matted hair obscuring his face. Several fighters recoil, but Varam pushes forward.

“Gently,” he commands. “Support his head and spine.”

They lift Sacha with excruciating care, as if handling something precious and broken beyond repair. His limbs bend at unnatural angles. A sound of collective horror ripples through the fighters as the full extent of his injuries becomes visible in the daylight.

Before I can take in more, the mist stalker breaks away, turning toward a soldier staggering to his feet. He’s dead before anyone can react.

Is he alive? Tell me! My thought cuts through the animal’s rage, bringing sudden focus. The mist stalker stops and lifts its head, then turns its focus back toward the wagon.

I need to see him. I need to know if we’re too late .

“Kiran.” Somehow, I pull my consciousness back to my own body. “We need to get down there.”

He stares at me. “But … you … your power …”

“It’s under control.” It’s not. We both know it. The silver is crackling along my arms, lighting the edges of my sleeves. “Please. I need to see him.”

I don’t know if it’s training or fear, but he nods. “Stay behind me.”

We move toward the gap, picking our way down a steep path that winds between boulders. The battle below is slowing down. Most of the Authority soldiers are dead or have fled after seeing the mist stalker, leaving our fighters to secure the convoy.

The creature is waiting for me at the bottom, its form flickering between solid and translucent. It moves to my side, blood still dripping from its teeth and claws. I curl my fingers into the fur between its shoulder blades and let it guide us forward.

Fighters part to let us through, their faces caught between awe and fear. No one tries to stop me as I approach the wagon where they’ve laid Sacha on a makeshift pallet. Varam and Mira are standing on either side of him, their expressions grim.

“Is he alive?”