Page 20 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Varam nods once, but there’s a muscle ticking in his jaw, and I don’t miss the horror in his eyes before he forces it down. “Barely.”

I push past him, needing to see for myself.

The silver light leaking from me washes over Sacha’s broken body, casting his wounds in stark, unforgiving relief. What I see stops my breath and freezes my heart mid-beat.

This isn’t the man who left me in Ashenvale. This isn’t even someone I recognize.

Where once he was regal, restrained, powerful enough to shape shadow with a word, now he lies shattered, stripped of everything that made him … him . The man who survived twenty-seven years of isolation has been reduced to this broken vessel of pain.

His naked body is exposed, vulnerable in a way I could never have imagined.

Raw flesh and bone show through in patches where skin has been flayed away.

Burns mar his chest and face. Symbols and patterns carved into him with fire.

The Authority symbol has been branded into him, the raised welts still weeping —a claim of ownership staked into his flesh.

One eye is swollen mostly shut, but there’s a gap where the eyeball should be.

His fingers are twisted and broken, each missing its nail.

Those hands had once shaped shadow into shelter, into ravens, into weapons.

They’d touched me with reverence and desire.

His chest rises in uneven shallow jerks that suggest multiple broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung. Maybe worse.

Around me, the fighters who managed to reach the wagon have fallen silent. One turns away, unable to bear the sight. Another whispers. A prayer, maybe. A plea. These rebels, hardened by years of Authority cruelty, can’t hide their horror now.

This is their Shadowvein Lord. Their Vareth’el.

“How is he still alive?” someone whispers.

“Because they wanted him to suffer,” Mira answers. “Death would have been mercy.”

The smell hits me when I lean closer. Infection, sweet and rotten. Burnt flesh. Bodily waste. Proof of total helplessness. The copper tang of blood.

So much blood.

My stomach heaves, but I swallow it down, refusing to look away from what they’ve done to him. I will bear witness to this. I will remember every detail, every wound, every act of cruelty performed on his body.

And somehow, I will make them answer for all of it.

This isn’t random violence. This is purposeful destruction.

I reach for his hand, my vision blurring with tears I can’t hold back. My fingers hover over his skin, afraid to touch him, afraid of causing more pain, even though I’m sure he won’t feel it. He’s unconscious. Silent.

Every inch of him looks broken. Violated . They didn’t just torture his body. They tried to unmake him. To erase everything he was.

“Sacha.” His name tears from my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for. For not being able to stop it from happening? For all the time he’s spent suffering, while everyone thought he was dead? For not fighting harder to get them to listen to me? For not finding him sooner?

All of it. None of it. Sorry isn’t enough. It’s a word from another world. Another life.

My tears fall onto his face, mixing with the blood and grime. The silver light pulses wildly, reacting to everything I can’t contain.

Grief. Rage. Disbelief.

Something inside me gives way. A dam I’ve been holding back since River Crossing. Since I watched him fall. Since I unleashed a storm I didn’t know I could create.

A sob breaks free from my throat, then another, until I’m shaking with the force of them. The mist stalker returns to my side, pressing against my leg.

“I’ll find whoever did this,” I whisper, so quietly only the creature can hear me. “We’ll tear them apart just like we did those soldiers.”

“The Authority will answer for this.” Mira’s voice is tight with controlled fury, unknowingly mirroring my words.

I can only stare at him. Words fail me. This level of cruelty is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

The rage that rises now is unfamiliar. Not the quick-flash anger I’ve known before. This is slower. Heavier. Cold. A fury that doesn’t belong to the person I was before coming to this world.

“He needs cover. He shouldn’t be seen like this.”

One of the fighters steps forward with a cloak. I help drape it over him, arranging it with care to avoid touching the worst of his wounds. It’s not enough. Not even close. What he needs is real medical care from skilled healers. Clean bandages, warmth, time to heal.

But this is all we have right now.

“I don’t understand.” I can’t take my eyes off him. “How could anyone do this to another human being?”

“This is what the Authority does.” Varam’s voice is soft. “This is what they’ve always done to those who oppose them. This is why we fight.”

His words wash over me, bringing clarity to the chaos of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. I’ve witnessed the cruelty of this world firsthand now, not just heard about it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Fury tastes like blood in my mouth.

I touch Sacha’s hand, trying to find a place that hasn’t been damaged.

“We’ll get you somewhere safe,” I promise him, then lift my head to search out Varam. “They knew … somehow they knew we were going to be here.”

Mira stiffens beside me. “That cannot be. No one would?—”

“How else would they have known where we’d be?” I hold Varam’s eyes. “You can’t tell me it was a coincidence that those soldiers came from behind.”

“No one would betray us like that.” Mira’s protest doesn’t sound as confident as she wants it to. “No one who knows what the Authority is capable of.”

“Wouldn’t they? You said it yourself at River Crossing. Someone told them then. And now this? A conveniently captured captain, carrying the exact details we needed?”

Silence follows my words, and then Varam straightens.

“We need to find somewhere to shelter for the night. Once we’re safe, we can assess our position and Lord Torran’s health. Tomorrow, we’ll consider what to do about Stonehaven.”

We manage to construct a stretcher from cloaks and branches, and parts salvaged from the wagons. The fighters move carefully, trying not to worsen Sacha’s injuries. I stay at his side. The light under my skin somehow pulses in time with his laboured breathing.

The mist stalker holds its place beside me, watching the cliffs.

When they lift Sacha onto the stretcher, his head lolls, slack and unresponsive.

No flicker of awareness. Strange metal bands encircle his wrists, cruel restraints that bite into his skin, odd symbols carved into their surface.

The skin around them is raw and blistered, as though the metal itself is burning him.

“Those restraints.” Mira follows the line of my gaze. “The captain mentioned they were special. Something about containing his power.”

“That must be how they’ve kept him helpless since his capture. Along with whatever that crystal did to him,” Varam says. He sighs, looking around. “We need to move. They will return eventually, with more reinforcements. They’re going to want him back.”

The mist stalker growls low in its throat when I tense.

No. They won’t have him. Never again.

“Where?” The question bursts out of me. “If we can’t go to Stonehaven …”

“We need to find shelter nearby. Set up camp somewhere defensible, and treat his wounds as best we can.”

“In the wilderness? He needs a healer .”

“We have basic supplies, and whatever we can salvage from the convoy. It will have to be enough until we can move him safely. There’s a cave system half a day’s travel from here. We’ve used it to hide from patrols before, but ...”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. Sacha might not survive a longer journey. We have no choice but to take shelter, and do whatever we can with the limited resources at our disposal.