Chapter 8 #2
“Our biological connection ceased to matter a long time ago. He chose the Authority. I chose to fight them. Our shared parentage became irrelevant the day he decided my death served his purpose better than my life.”
“That’s not the point, Sacha!” Her voice rises, and there’s a subtle shift to the air which tells me her power is responding to her emotion.
The snowflakes outside fall thicker and faster.
“It’s about trust. About keeping something that huge from someone who—” She catches herself, and when I glance back, color floods her cheeks.
“Someone who brought you back from near death.”
The near-slip doesn’t escape my notice. Whatever she was going to say, she pulled back from it deliberately. But the emotion behind the partial statement is clear enough. I don’t push for more. When she wants to tell me, she’ll find her own way to the words, the same way I did.
“Would knowledge of our shared blood have changed anything for you?” My voice is soft. “In what way would this information alter things?”
“It’s not about that! I want to understand what happened to you. What made your own brother choose to torture you instead of standing beside you?”
“Ellie—”
“Don’t Ellie me. Don’t tell me this isn’t important, or not relevant. Please.”
I sigh, and turn to face her. “His betrayal at Thornreave Pass severed any meaningful connection I thought we had. His personal oversight of my imprisonment, and my torture. Those actions define our relationship far more than any shared childhood.”
“Shared childhood?” She latches onto the phrase immediately. “How shared? Did you grow up together?”
The question opens wounds I’ve spent years ignoring, but Ellie’s expression makes it clear she isn’t going to accept deflection on this. I cross the room to sit beside her.
“Sereven was born to be Meridian’s High Prince. He should have become Vareth’el et’Varin Sereven Torran upon my father’s death. Four years older than I, trained from birth to rule. Everything I eventually inherited should have been his.”
“But you’re the High Prince, not him.”
“Because the power never manifested in him.”
She frowns.
“Unlike the other bloodlines, Shadowvein lineage only travels through a single line. From father to son. There has never been more than one child born to a Shadowvein Lord … until me.”
Ellie leans forward, expression rapt. “You mean they only ever chose to have one child?”
“No, Mel’shira. It was just the way it was. There was never a second child, male or female, born.”
“Then how are you here?”
“My mother wasn’t from Meridian. She was a Voidwitch from the Great Beyond, a realm across the sea where magic is different.
When she bore Sereven, my parents assumed he would be their sole child, the Shadowvein Heir, and he would manifest the power, and the throne.
When I was born four years later, they were shocked. ”
“What did that mean for both of you?”
“Everything. To begin with, they expected Sereven to still be the only Shadowvein. I was treated like every other second son. I was spoiled and given far more freedom than the heir. Sereven spent eleven years preparing to inherit the throne and Shadowvein power. When my abilities manifested at seven years old, his destiny transferred to me in the space of a single afternoon.” I pause.
“Years of expectation and preparation. Tutors in statecraft, military strategy, diplomacy. Lessons in leadership, in command, and all the responsibilities that come with power. All of it became mine overnight because shadows answered my call.”
“How did he take it?”
The question cuts to the heart of everything that followed …
because what I saw was not the truth. I see Sereven’s face in my mind.
I remember the way he immediately stepped forward to offer guidance and protection to his newly elevated younger brother.
There was no sign of bitterness, no visible resentment, just a smooth acceptance that masked whatever turmoil lay beneath.
“He appeared to take it better than anyone expected. Than anyone had the right to believe. He stepped into the role of my advisor immediately, and dedicated himself to preparing me for the responsibilities I never showed any interest in before. He taught me everything the tutors missed out. Court etiquette, the delicate balance required to keep various Veinblood families happy. He handled the transition perfectly.”
“But he didn’t really, did he?”
“Not the way we thought, no. I can only guess at some things, and piece together others from conversations heard, or things I learned after his betrayal at Thornreave. The Authority must have approached him during those early years, but he hid it successfully from everyone.”
Ellie’s expression shifts, something that almost approaches sympathy in her eyes. “They exploited his loss, and offered him something to replace it.”
“A different kind of power. Political authority. Military command. The opportunity to reshape Meridian into a new vision. One where his skills mattered more than any magical talents. Whatever they offered him, it gave him purpose beyond the role he’d been transferred to.”
“When did you realize what he was doing?”
“Not until Thornreave Pass. He was careful, subtle. Years of preparation went into that moment of betrayal. By the time I understood where his true allegiance lay, it was too late to prevent what followed.”
The admission stings. Despite everything—the torture, imprisonment, the destruction of everything I thought to protect—acknowledging the depth of Sereven’s betrayal still creates unexpected pain.
Because my failure to see the signs cost more than my own freedom.
It cost the lives of people who trusted me to protect them.
“Wait.” Ellie’s voice turns sharp. “You told me when we were in Ashenvale that Sereven murdered your mother. But now …” She pales, revulsion filling her voice. “He didn’t just kill your mother. He killed his own too. What about your father?”
“Our father was executed when the Authority overran Ashenvale. Sereven and I escaped with Varam and other Veinwardens. They fought at our sides, protected our backs, did everything they could to ensure they kept us alive.” I pause.
“It wasn’t until the tower was closing on me, that Sereven told me that he had orchestrated the attack.
He gave the Authority the intelligence they needed to breach Ashenvale’s defenses.
Our father’s execution was part of that plan. ”
“He killed his own parents?” she whispers. “And let you think he was protecting you the entire time?”
“Yes, he murdered the very people who loved him without limits, who never made him feel less because of circumstances beyond his control. Yet he still chose the Authority over them.”
“I’m sorry.” She swallows. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine betrayal like that.”
Her sympathy makes me uncomfortable. I’ve spent half my life setting aside the personal loss I suffered in favor of what I needed to do to ensure my people survived. Grief is a luxury that survival rarely permits, yet her compassion is genuine, and I’m not entirely sure how to navigate it.
“The past cannot be altered. Understanding Sereven’s motivations provides an insight into future encounters with him, but dwelling on childhood connections serves no productive purpose.”
I know how I sound. But she accepts it without question, nodding slowly.
“Thank you. For telling me. I know it can’t have been easy.”
“The information seemed relevant to your further understanding of the situation.”
“It is relevant, but it’s also personal, Sacha.”
“You being able to understand our enemy is a tactical advantage.”
“Right.” Her smile makes it clear she sees through my attempt to remain detached.
The admission of Sereven’s true relationship to me changes nothing about our current circumstances, yet sharing it feels significant. I’ve told her truths I’ve shared with no one other than Varam.
Perhaps this is what she means by trust. A willingness to share vulnerabilities that serve no purpose beyond connection itself. A concept that continues to challenge my understanding, but seems essential to whatever exists between us.
She reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together.
When I look at her, she gives me that little smile again, and curls against my side.
It’s shocking how she touches me without thought or consideration of whether it’s appropriate or not to be so familiar with the Vareth’el.
But what’s more shocking is how right it feels.
I think about her almost-slip earlier, the words she stopped herself from saying. I told her last night that she holds everything I am. Today, she proved she understands what that means. Perhaps, in time, she’ll trust me with whatever it was she wanted to say in return.