Page 2 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Shouts carry on the air, louder now that the storm has quietened. Orders are barked in sharp bursts, and followed by the sound of boots as they march toward the hill. At their current pace, they’ll reach our position in less than five minutes.

“They’re going to be here soon.” The words feel disconnected from me, like someone else is speaking through my lips.

My thoughts keep circling back to the moment Sacha disappeared. The moment I lost him.

No . I can’t think about that. He might have survived. His shadows might have saved him.

I suck in a deep breath, and look at Mira.

“They were heading to River Crossing. Is that where Varam will go? We need to be there to meet him.”

Mira nods, a tiny spark of purpose rekindling in her eyes, pushing away the despair. “Can you stand?”

I don’t know if I can. My body feels both weightless and impossibly heavy, suspended between collapse and motion.

But it’s not just that. The valley below us still holds the last imprint of him.

The last place he stood. I don’t want to leave, but we can’t stay here.

We can’t let them take what’s left of him … What’s left of me.

I brace my hands against the mud, and force myself to my feet. The storm rises with me, answering the movement with a gust of wind, then weakens again.

“We have to go.” Mira wipes blood from her temple with a muddied sleeve. “Lord Torran may be gone, but it seems the prophecy is real.” She glances at me. “Storm has followed shadow.”

Mishak inclines his head, his expression caught between devastation at what we’ve lost and desperate hope at what might still be salvaged.

I recognize the look. They need something to believe in when everything else has crumbled. They need me to be more than a broken woman grieving a man they called their Vareth’el.

But I don’t think I can. I’m not the Vareth’el. I’m not a Veinblood. I’m not even from this world.

“This way.” Mishak leads us away from the hilltop.

I stumble after him, boots sliding in churned mud. Behind us, shouting breaks through the storm again. The soldiers are getting closer to the top of the hill. I drop lower as I move, trying to stay balanced, my legs shaking. I feel weak, drained of energy, but I force myself to keep moving forward.

The mist stalker pads along beside me, low and silent. After I stumble for the third time, it shoves its head beneath my hand, steadying me.

Rain soaks everything, running into my eyes and down my back. The wind slams into my shoulders with enough force to throw my steps off-center, even with the support of the creature beside me.

The slope steepens, making it harder to descend without slipping through the mud.

My fingers curl into the mist stalker’s fur, while I fight to stay upright.

Each footfall jars through my knees. Every step feels disconnected from my body.

I’m moving more on instinct than with any real conscious thought.

The storm follows our retreat, clouds spinning overhead, while my breath hisses through my teeth. I’m not sure how much farther I’ll be able to go before my strength gives out completely.

My clothes cling to my skin, soaked through and caked with mud. I tear at the high collar, desperate to be free of it, but my fingers fumble against the unfamiliar clasps. They’re a constant reminder of the people who took everything from me, and I hate that I can’t tear them off.

The power continues to twist through me, sometimes flaring bright enough to glow through my clothes, sometimes dimming to near invisibility. I don’t know what it’s doing. I just know it won’t stop.

The hill finally begins to level as we reach the tree line. Branches whip across my arms and shoulders as we duck into cover, the wind following us through the gaps. The trunks should break the sightlines of anyone behind us for now, but won’t hide us for long.

The forest stretches in all directions, each tree the same as the last. My lungs burn with each breath. My legs shake beneath me. Every step feels pulled from something deeper than strength, somewhere bone-deep and breaking.

The power inside me moves to its own beat, feeding off my energy, while my body struggles to keep moving forward.

“Almost there,” Mira says softly.

I glance back. Dried blood streaks her temple. Her jaw is locked, but she’s moving, pressing forward with determination set in every line of her body.

I want to ask her how she got hurt. Whether it was my fault. But I stay silent.

The trees thin ahead of us, revealing the clearing where we left Rasha earlier.

The river looks dark and angry with storm runoff.

But even swollen with rain, I think it’s manageable at the crossing point, large stones breaking the flow into navigable channels.

On the far bank, two figures rise from concealment, weapons drawn, then lowered when they recognize us.

A jolt, not magical but purely emotional, passes through me. One is Rasha. The other is Varam.

He’s alive. Sacha’s second-in-command survived. One person who made it through this catastrophe, a single thread connecting me to everything we’ve lost. The power inside me rises at the sight of him, while above us the storm responds in kind, gentling slightly, the thunder rolling more distantly.

Varam’s voice cuts across the water. “Cross. Now!”

We don’t wait. Mira is first into the current. I follow her, and Mishak is right behind me. Cold water hits my overheated skin, shocking me. My balance teeters with every step.

Rasha and Varam hold their position on the far side.

Varam’s eyes never leave me as I wade through the water.

The current pulls at my legs, threatening to drag me under.

Each stone feels like it might shear away underfoot at any second.

Behind us, the forest is loud with the sounds of pursuit—shouts, snapping branches, boots.

My legs are shaking. Cold water numbs my skin while heat pulses beneath it. I reach halfway before the energy lashes through me again, a raw spike of power that rips through my spine. My vision splinters. The river tilts sideways, and water rushes toward my face.

And then Varam is there. He catches me short of the bank, his fingers wrapping around my arm before the water drags me under. His other hand braces my back, steadying me as the current pushes harder.

“Sacha?” He has to shout above the rushing water to be heard.

Mira tries to speak, but fails. Instead, she shakes her head, her entire body shuddering with the effort of containing her grief.

Varam’s face tightens. He gets us both out of the water, half-dragging me up the bank, mud sucking at my knees. I collapse just beyond the edge while he stares past me, across the river, still hoping the next figure will be Sacha.

But no one else comes. I touch his arm, wait until he looks at me, then shake my head.

“He’s gone.”

The sound he makes isn’t human. A keening wail that cuts through the storm’s fury, rising above thunder and rain before breaking into ragged, gasping sobs. He falls to his knees, fists pounding the ground, years of composure and discipline shattering in an instant.

Mira drops beside him, her grief finally breaking through.

They cling to each other, two people who have lost the center of their existence, the purpose that has defined them for longer than I’ve been alive.

Their shared anguish is beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed.

Raw. Primal. Devastating in its intensity.

As if summoned by their cries, shouts carry through the trees. Authority soldiers are closing the distance between us. The mist stalker turns to face the forest, its huge head lowering into a position that seems defensive.

Protecting us. Protecting me .

The power surges again, stronger, wilder, and entirely outside of my control. The pain is blinding. The storm responds, screaming above the pursuing soldiers. Lightning strikes the clearing across the river.

Varam looks up, his grief-ravaged face changing to shock as he takes in the silver light surrounding me, the shadows weaving through it, the storm that moves with me.

“It’s true,” he whispers, voice frayed. “The prophecy is true. The storm that follows shadow …”

Another wave of power drives me to my knees, and I cry out. Light bursts from my skin, hot and erratic. The storm above our heads mirrors the chaos that surrounds us. Lightning strikes wild, the wind whipping in different directions with every breath.

Varam’s shoulders stiffen at the shouts coming closer.

His grief doesn’t vanish, but something else takes its place.

Years of discipline reassert themselves in the straightening of his spine, the squaring of his jaw.

His eyes still shine with unshed tears, but his gaze sharpens, focusing on the immediate threat.

The commander emerges from the grieving man.

“We need to move. Now.”

He pulls me to my feet, flinching as contact with my skin snaps an electrical spark between us. “We have to get to Stonehaven and inform them of what happened.” His voice breaks again.

His grip tightens on my arm, grounding me, and he half-carries, half-drags me forward. The mist stalker moves with us.

A shout rings out from the bank we’ve just left. Authority soldiers burst out from the tree line, weapons raised. The blue crystal in Sereven’s hand gleams in the rain.

“The crystal.” Mira freezes as soon as she sees it, horror and fresh grief rendering her immobile. “That’s what he used on—” She can’t finish the sentence.

“ Move !” Varam yanks her forward as arrows arch over the river toward us.

We abandon caution, and run, adrenaline and fear giving me a boost of energy and making my heart hammer. An arrow whizzes past my ear, so close I feel the displacement of air. Another strikes the ground beside Mishak. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

The mist stalker turns, facing the soldiers. Its form expands, growing more substantial, becoming more threatening. It releases a sound I feel more than hear, a vibration that travels through muscle and bone alike. The soldiers falter, uncertainty replacing their confidence.

One soldier raises a crossbow, aiming it directly at me. In the lightning flashes, I see the arrow flying through the air.

My hand rises. Silver bursts from my fingertips. Lightning answers. It hits the arrow mid-flight, wood and metal reduced to ash that washes away in the rain.

But that moment of control costs me. Pain slams through my skull, radiating behind my eyes. The storm stutters, collapsing into rain as energy slips out of reach again. I stumble, my knees giving way. Varam catches me before I hit the ground.

“She’s fading,” he calls to Mira, steadying my weight against his side, with one arm wrapped around my waist. “The power is consuming her faster than she can hold it.”

He doesn’t let go as we move, keeping me upright as we retreat deeper into the shelter of the trees.

My legs barely respond, my balance tipping with every shift in the uneven ground.

The soaked uniform chafes at my shoulders, the collar tightening with every breath.

I claw it loose again, just enough to keep breathing.

To keep moving. Just enough to stay upright.

“Can you walk?” Varam is already supporting most of my weight. I’m not sure what else he can do besides carry me.

“I’ll crawl if I have to.” The power is quiet now, buried somewhere I can’t reach. My vision sways. Every step hurts.

“Is she dying?” Rasha asks.

“No.” Mira’s voice is steady. “The transformation isn’t done. The power is unstable. She needs to rest and restore her energy. She needs training we don’t have anyone to give her.”

“Sacha would know what to do.” Varam’s voice is quiet. “He would know exactly what to do.”

His name sends fresh pain through me, grief intertwining with physical agony.

“He’s not dead.” The words leave my mouth in a slur. “I don’t believe it. He can’t be.”

None of them responds right away, letting the sound of rain and thunder still circling behind us fill the silence.

“I’ve seen him move people like that once,” Mira says eventually. “It took hours of meditation to get to the mental place he needed before shaping the spell. What happened back there? That wasn’t the same thing. And with Sereven’s crystal …”

“The crystal.” I jump on her mention of it. “What was it?”

“I don’t know.”

“He could have gotten away. His shadows could have helped him escape,” I insist.

“We thought he was dead once before, and he returned,” Varam acknowledges, although his tone carries little hope. “But if he did … He’ll be weak, vulnerable, and the Authority will be hunting him with everything they have.”

“Then we need to find him first.” The silver brightens for a second before vanishing again. The wave of power leaves me off-balance, but I force myself to keep speaking. “Before they do.”

“I want to, but we can’t, Ellie.” Varam doesn’t look at me as he says it.

“You’re unstable. You need control. If you collapse again in the wrong place, we all fall with you.

” His eyes move pointedly to the dim streaks of light moving beneath my skin, and then to the mist stalker keeping pace at my side.

“Sacha sent me to make sure you survive. That was his final order. I have to follow it. Returning to Stonehaven is our only option.”

I don’t like it, but I know he won’t go against Sacha’s wishes.

And he’s right about my power. It is unstable.

I can feel it in the heat threading through my limbs, in the dissonance between what my body is doing and what I’m asking of it.

Whatever I’m becoming, I don’t understand it.

I can’t trust it, and I don’t know how to control it.

If I choose to run headlong into danger now, I might doom us all.

“How far?”

“Two days through the forest,” Mira answers. “ If we can keep ahead of the soldiers.”

Two days. Forty-eight hours of uncertainty. Of not knowing if Sacha survived. Of walking with this storm inside me. Of trying to understand what it means to be something the world never prepared me for.

“We can’t leave here,” I protest again. “What if he’s hurt and hiding? What if he’s waiting for us?”

“He wouldn’t want us to stay. He would want us to get you to safety.”

The power stirs inside me again, and this time, shadows move with it.

“He’s alive.” I say it again, willing it to be true. “And we’re going to find him.”