Page 34 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

Chapter Sixteen

ELLIE

Shadow does not fear the light. It fears being named.

Writings of the Flamevein Oracles

I can’t stop staring at him.

What I’m seeing can’t be real. I pinch the inside of my arm, digging my nails in until the pain makes my eyes water.

Nothing changes. It doesn’t change what I’m seeing.

Sacha moves around the camp, talking to fighters, and checking supplies.

He moves with a fluid grace that makes yesterday’s broken body seem like a fever dream I conjured.

No trace remains of the man who lay dying on the stretcher.

The whip marks, the brands, the broken bones.

It’s all gone like they were never there.

The small group of fighters respond to him with a reverence that borders on religious.

They bow their heads when he passes, avert their eyes when he speaks directly to them, fists pressing against their chests.

This isn’t just respect for their leader anymore.

This is more. They went to sleep with him at death’s door, a fading symbol of their failing cause, and woke up to him not only healed, but reborn.

“It’s not possible,” I whisper to myself, even though the evidence stands right in front of me, mocking my understanding of how the world should work.

But isn’t it? What about what happened in the cave? The way the restraints snapped. How he started to heal when I lay beside him. Who’s to say that if I had stayed there, he wouldn’t have healed more …

Oh god, did we put him through the agony of being moved for no reason? Should we have stayed in the cave?

The thought makes me sick. All the pain we caused him during the journey. The wounds reopening, his fever climbing higher. If we’d known this was possible, we could have … waited. Let the power do whatever it was doing.

Or was something different about last night? I don’t think so. I curled beside him the same way. I rested my hand on his arm as I had before. I fell asleep …

I fell asleep .

Is that what the power needed? For me to be out of the way so I couldn’t fight it? It worked through me, used me as a conduit for its own purposes.

The mist stalker pads silently toward me, eyes fixed on mine.

“Did you know? Did you know this would happen?”

It makes that strange vibrating sound in its throat, its tail swishing back and forth, then turns its head to where Sacha is standing near the stream.

I need to ask him. He avoided answering me earlier. I need to know what he knows. I’m about to walk over when Varam steps into my path. His gaze moves between me and Sacha, then he holds out a strip of dried meat.

“It’s not much, we’re almost at the last of our rations, but you need to eat. After what you did … after what happened between you last night, you need to keep up your strength.”

I take it automatically, even though my stomach rebels at the thought of food. “What do you think happened?”

He glances toward Sacha again.

“The prophecy speaks of shadow and storm uniting.” His voice is careful. “What we witnessed … what you did … it fulfills words spoken a long time ago.”

“I didn’t do anything! I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was …” I wave a hand toward Sacha, unable to find words adequate enough to describe what happened.

Varam’s eyes drop to my hands. The glow isn’t as bright now, but it’s still there, dimmer but visible. “Power doesn’t always require conscious direction, especially when it’s new.” He hesitates.

“What are you saying? That it does its own thing , without my input?” My voice turns shrill.

Mira glances over at my raised voice. She changes direction and comes toward us.

“Is everything okay, Ellie?”

“No!” I’m growing more anxious by the second as I watch Sacha turn from the water.

Did he suffer needlessly? Could I have healed him sooner? What is happening to me? Could I have killed him instead of healing him?

“What else does the prophecy say? I’ve only heard that one line. There must be more to it than ‘ Where shadow leads, storm will follow .’”

Thunder rumbles overhead. Varam and Mira exchange glances.

“‘ The vessel transforms with power unlooked for. The stranger becomes that which was foretold,’” Mira says. “ ‘Two forces never meant to meet shall intertwine, their union defies the patterns of ages past.’”

“The prophecy said it would happen this way,” Varam adds. “‘ From the ashes of shadow, the storm shall rise.’ We just didn’t expect it to be so …”

“Literal?” There’s a note of hysteria in my voice.

Mira nods. “We thought it was symbolic. A metaphor for the Veinwardens rising after defeat.”

I want to tell them I’m not some prophesied figure, I’m just a woman from Chicago who fell through worlds by accident. But how can I claim that with what I’ve witnessed … what I’ve done?

“Five minutes.” Sacha’s voice carries effortlessly across the clearing.

The fighters respond, quickening their preparations to break camp. The mood has shifted completely, turning from despair to hope. Even the way they move is different. Their shoulders are straighter, chins lift higher, I even catch the odd smile.

All because of one man.

He’s standing near the stretcher now, looking down at it, face unreadable. There’s no one around him, no one demanding his attention. Maybe now is the time to try and talk to him.

I approach cautiously, my heart beating faster with every step. I don’t know how to interact with this new version of him. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but this isn’t the same man who left me in Ashenvale to retrieve a ring. My eyes drop to where the black band is wrapped around his finger.

Did that have something to do with his healing?

The changes first started after I slipped it onto his hand.

Could that have been the conduit his shadows needed, and not me?

The mist stalker drew my attention to it.

Without its interference, I would never have thought to take it out, let alone put it on his finger.

He turns when I near, and for a moment, something flickers across his face—recognition, confusion, curiosity. It’s gone before I can put a name to it, replaced by the careful blank expression I remember from our earliest interactions in the tower—calculating, assessing, and annoying .

“How do you feel?” The question seems absurd given the circumstances, but I need to know. If there’s something of the man I was getting to know beneath this new exterior.

His head tilts, as if he’s giving the question more consideration than it needs, then he nods.

“Functional.” The word is so characteristically Sacha that I almost laugh despite everything. One corner of his mouth, a mouth that was dry, cracked, and swollen less than twenty-four hours ago, tips up into that rare smile. “Because of you.”

My stomach flips. The way he says those three words holds something deeper than gratitude, something possessive that both thrills and scares me.

“I don’t understand what happened.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I don’t understand any of this. The silver light, the shadows, whatever … connection exists between us.”

His gaze moves to my hands, which are glowing clearly now. “My raven found you at River Crossing,” he says, as though it explains everything. “When it touched you, it transferred itself into your body for safekeeping … at least, that was its intention. But that wasn’t all that happened.”

“But this !” I reach out to touch him, then let my arm drop before my fingers make contact. “This goes beyond what happened in the cave. This is?—”

“Impossible? You like that word a lot, Mel’shira.” His voice remains level, but his eyes are focused on me with an intensity that sends shivers up my spine. “But it’s not impossible. It’s merely unprecedented.”

I look down. The stretcher that carried his body lies abandoned, blood-soaked bandages piled on top like discarded memories of a nightmare we’ve collectively awakened from.

Around the clearing, fighters stand watching Sacha with barely concealed awe. Every eye in the camp seems drawn to him.

Awe is not what I’m feeling. What happened between us in the cave that first night was miraculous enough. But this …

What if I continue to change him without meaning to? What if I change?

“You’re different.”

His head tilts again, considering. “Yes.”

Just that. No explanation, no denial, no attempt to soothe my growing unease. Oddly, it settles me a little. This is the man I know.

He starts to turn away, then stops. “I know you have questions, but now isn’t the time. When we are somewhere safer, then we will talk more.”

He steps past me to address the assembled fighters, making it clear our conversation is over. “We continue with the original plan, and move south toward Southernrock. Stay alert. The Authority will have patrols everywhere.”

Their palms hit their chests in acknowledgement.

Sacha takes point, moving with a confidence he should not have, considering he’s walking barefoot over ground that should be unfamiliar to someone who spent years imprisoned in a tower.

I drop back to walk beside Varam. He doesn’t say anything, but he adjusts his pace to match mine.

We’re an hour into the walk before he speaks.

“Watch him,” he says quietly. “How he moves.”

I’ve been doing nothing else since we set off. Sacha navigates the ravine with a predatory grace, each step forward made without hesitation.

“Do you see it? Look closer.”

I frown, but keep my focus on Sacha—the way he moves, how sure-footed he is, the almost otherworldly elegance of his movements.

“What am I looking at?”

“He’s always had an awareness about him that others don’t. Even before the tower, he kept parts of himself separate from the Veinwardens. He led because we needed him, because there was no other choice. Not because he wanted to rule.”