Page 53 of Stormvein (The Veinbound Trilogy #2)

“Will he bring the crystal?” His voice remains conversational, but I notice how the fingers on his left hand curl into his palm.

“Yes. He doesn’t go anywhere without it.”

The image of what happened at River Crossing flashes through my mind.

The blue crystal light tearing through Sacha’s shadows like they were nothing.

His body contorting in agony. I glance at the raven on his shoulder.

Living proof that he’s not only recovered but grown stronger.

Still, the memory makes the silver energy flare beneath my skin, protective and fierce.

“How can you stand there, knowing what you caused?” The words burst free before I can stop them. Light surges toward my fingertips, eager to be unleashed.

Shame crosses Lisandra’s face, fleeting but genuine, then her expression hardens again with the stubborn pride of a leader. “I never wanted that. I thought they would simply return him to the tower … I never imagined they would?—”

“Stop.” Sacha’s voice is quiet, but there’s a dangerous edge to it now. “What’s done is done. The only thing that matters now is what comes next.”

Without waiting for a response, he walks out of the room and over to the maps pinned to the wall. His finger traces a path from Stonehaven to what I assume is Blackstone Ridge. The raven follows his gaze, its head moving as though it’s also studying the map.

“Three days.” He taps the location of Blackstone Ridge. “That should give us enough time.”

“Enough time for what?”

“You can’t seriously be planning to go there!” Lisandra talks over me, following him out of the bedchamber, Stonehaven’s leader overriding the Vareth’el’s betrayer. “Even with your powers restored, you’ll be walking into a death trap.”

“Your concern is touching, a little too late, and completely unnecessary.” He doesn’t even look at her. “Your strategic counsel is no longer required.”

“It’s suicide,” she insists. “Sereven will have every advantage. Position, numbers, that crystal. You can’t win this, Sacha.”

He finally looks up, his gaze locking with hers.

“You lost the right to use my given name the day you handed me over to the Authority. As for winning … I’ve heard that before.

When I was first captured at Thornreave Pass.

When I was imprisoned in the tower. When I was tortured nearly to death.

” His voice is terrifying in its calmness. “Yet, here I stand.”

I move to his side, keeping one eye on Lisandra while I look at the map. Blackstone Ridge sits at the junction of three mountain passes, offering clear views in all directions. Steep cliffs on two sides, a narrow approach on the third. It’s the perfect location for an ambush … or a trap.

“She’s right. You can’t just walk in there.” My voice is quiet.

“I won’t. But she will.”

And that’s when it hits me. “You’re going to use her as bait.”

“As a distraction, while we approach from multiple directions.”

“What if he finds out?” I’m already imagining all the ways this could go wrong. “What if he realizes you’ve found out she’s a traitor?”

His expression doesn’t change, but his voice turns cold. “Then Lisandra will fulfill her final duty for the Vareth’el and the Veinwardens.”

His meaning is clear. She’s expendable. A suitable sacrifice for what he plans.

“You’re sending me to my death.” Fear finally breaks through Lisandra’s composed exterior. She half-turns toward me, seeking sympathy she won’t find.

“You sent me to torture. Consider the scales balanced.”

I should be horrified by what he’s saying.

The Ellie Bennett who stepped through that tower door weeks ago would have been.

She would have objected, argued for mercy, insisted there must be another way.

But after everything we’ve been through …

after seeing what the Authority did to him …

after nearly losing him … I’m discovering that my moral compass isn’t what it used to be.

That my definitions of justice and cruelty are shifting beneath my feet.

The woman in the center of the room betrayed not only Sacha, as horrific as what happened to him was, but everyone in Stonehaven and the Veinwardens.

Her actions led directly to suffering and death for people whose only crime was wanting freedom.

Why should her fate be any gentler than what she inflicted on others?

Why should she be spared the consequences of this war?

“I have to inform the rest of the Veinwarden leaders, but it’ll need to be done selectively.” His attention doesn’t move from Lisandra. “Varam?” His voice brings Varam back into the room immediately.

“We’re moving her to the secure chamber.

Then I want Mira informed of what’s happening.

Privately, before anyone else. Select a small group from those who were at Glassfall Gap, and see if they’re rested enough for another mission.

Only those you would trust with your life.

” He pauses, eyes moving over Lisandra. “Although, that seems not to be the best judgment to use right now. Follow your gut. Then gather the rest of the Veinwarden leaders, so I can speak to them.”

Varam nods, his position as Sacha’s second replacing whatever betrayal he must be feeling over Lisandra. “I’ll gather them once she’s secure. Mira will want details.”

“She’ll have them.” Sacha’s gaze finally shifts from Lisandra to Varam. “You might need to take any blades from her beforehand. I need Lisandra alive. I’m not certain Mira will feel the same way.”

While they secure Lisandra’s hands behind her back, I watch her face. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t plead for mercy. But every time Sacha moves, she stiffens. Whatever he did to her, it scared her more than she can hide.

Part of me pities her, despite everything.

A small, shrinking part that remembers mercy is supposed to separate us from our enemies.

The rest of me—especially the part that held Sacha’s broken body, and watched him struggle for each breath as he lay dying—feels only satisfaction at seeing her finally face the consequences of her actions. Justice has teeth in Meridian.

“I want to come with you,” I say as they prepare to move her, the words surprising me almost as much as they seem to surprise them.

Sacha inclines his head. I’d expected him to argue, to try to shield me from the darker aspects of what might happen.

But his attention doesn’t waver from Lisandra as Varam moves to a section of wall beside the stone hearth and presses his palm against a barely visible pattern engraved into the wall.

Ancient mechanisms grind within the stone, and a hidden entrance appears, a doorway where there had been only a solid wall moments before.

Lisandra walks between them, Varam in front of her, Sacha behind, while I follow down a narrow stone stairway that descends into darkness.

The air grows colder, danker with each step.

Shadows flow from Sacha’s fingertips like liquid night, changing color as they move, illuminating our path with an eerie blue-black light.

The chamber below Sacha’s quarters is small, but clearly designed as a cell.

A heavy wooden door, reinforced with narrow bands, opens to reveal a cot against one wall, and a chamber pot on the other.

There are no lightstones or torches. Nothing that can be used as a weapon or aid escape.

She walks inside without argument, and the door closes on her with a thud that rings of finality.

Varam returns upstairs ahead of us to direct two fighters as guards, both grim-faced men who were with us at Glassfall Gap.

As we climb back to Sacha’s quarters, he breaks the silence. His voice is soft but carries in the narrow space between us.

“She was right about one thing. Sereven will expect some kind of ambush at Blackstone Ridge.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Give him exactly what he expects.” His mouth tips up on one side. “And something he doesn’t.”

Once the secret door has been closed, I cross the room to pour a cup of water, my hand shaking slightly.

I can’t stop thinking about how much has changed in such a short time.

The black and white moral outlook I brought from my world has eroded, replaced by the harsh realities of this one.

Survival sometimes requires compromise. Justice sometimes demands blood.

“You could have killed her.” I wait for Varam to leave before speaking, thinking about the cracks in the wall and the scorch mark on the floor that weren’t there before I left him alone with Lisandra. “When I was gone, I mean. Why didn’t you? You had every right. Why didn’t you do it?”

“Death would be too quick … too simple, and a waste of a resource.” The raven stirs on his shoulder, wings fluttering as if in agreement, its form so solid now it casts its own shadow on the wall behind them.

“She wants to die. To escape the consequences of her choices. I won’t give her that satisfaction. ”

I remember the dark marks I saw on her skin, already fading when we returned, but still there. “You did something to her, didn’t you? With your shadows?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Not shadows, no. Voidcraft. I showed her what awaits traitors. She needed to understand that her life continues only because it suits my needs.”

“But after …” I don’t want to finish the sentence. But he knows I mean after Blackstone Ridge. After she serves her purpose as bait. After Sereven.

“After, we’ll see. For now, we have to prepare.

” He turns to me fully, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of something beneath the coldness.

A flash of bleakness, of burden, that’s gone almost before it forms. “Blackstone Ridge requires careful planning. The moment Sereven realizes I’m not dead, he will expect something …

but he won’t foresee what I plan to bring. ”

The confidence in his voice should be reassuring, but it makes me wonder what he isn’t telling me. What plan is he making that extends beyond Blackstone Ridge?

“You have something in mind, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t offer more than that, eyes on the map. There’s a focus to him now, a singular purpose that ignores all distractions. The raven’s gaze follows, its head tilting at identical angles to Sacha’s, as though they truly share one mind, one consciousness split between two forms.

And I know with a certainty I can’t explain, that whatever he’s planning, it’s going to take everyone past the point of no return.

The prophecy whispers through my mind. Where shadow leads, storm will follow . And I know, without any doubt, that I will follow him into whatever darkness awaits.

Our paths are bound together now by forces greater than choice.

I will become the storm. It doesn’t matter whether I chose that path or not. Whether I am ready or not. It’s already building inside me. Power, purpose, and destiny. And it pulses in time with the shadows that dance around him.