Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
SACHA
“In darkness, the smallest flame reveals more than the sun at noon.”
Writings of the Flamevein Oracles
It’s been three days since the connection snapped back into place.
Three days since I learned Ellie is in Meridian, and I’ve had to resist the urge to abandon everything and search for her.
For hours, I wrestled with the decision.
There are people depending on my leadership to reach safety, and that means ignoring the desperate pull toward a woman who has become essential to my existence.
For the first time, choosing duty over personal need is a challenge, and I have to force myself to remain steadfast in my decision to go to Whiterock, while every instinct demands I race northwest.
Knowing she’s alive both comforts and torments me.
Especially with the way her emotions flow through the connection we share.
First, unrelenting terror, but over time that eased, becoming determination that has grown stronger with each passing hour.
I’m confident she’s found safety, but not knowing more than that is eroding my control.
“My Lord.” Nyassa’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’ve been pushing hard since dawn. Perhaps we should—”
“We can’t afford to be caught in the open if any patrols come through.” I watch as Mira crouches beside a small rain pool.
“You seem distracted.”
The understatement would be laughable … if I had any capacity for humor right now. Distracted. As if the woman I love isn’t beside me, safe and protected.
“The sooner we reach Whiterock, the sooner we know if Varam got everyone out safely.”
“And the sooner you can decide what to do next.” The way she says it suggests she’s aware of the internal war raging beneath my composed exterior. The way duty chafes against my need to find Ellie.
For my entire life, doing my duty has been simple. Now, choosing responsibility over personal need feels like I’m tearing myself in half. I’ve never had something, someone, I wanted more than I wanted to fulfill my obligations to others.
“There is always another decision to make.”
“True. But not all decisions weigh on you the way this one does.”
Before I can respond, Mira lifts her head. “Another patrol passed through here. No more than a day ago.”
I kneel beside her, grateful for the interruption. The familiar routine of assessing threats helps center my scattered thoughts. “How many?”
“No more than eight, heading northwest toward Ashenvale. That’s the fifth patrol we’ve come across. They’re searching for something.”
If Varam managed to get everyone out of Stonehaven, the Authority would have found it empty. They’ll be hunting for the survivors now, following whatever tracks they can find.
“We need to pick up our pace,” I say.
When we resume our walk, Nyassa falls into step beside me.
“It’s Elowen. She’s the reason you keep looking in that direction when you think no one is watching. The reason you’re driving yourself harder than necessary.”
I stop walking. The entire group halts, sensing the sudden tension.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I may not have been in Meridian for a long time, but I know people. And I understand you better than you might think. The way you hold yourself when her name is mentioned. The way you keep looking northwest. The way—”
“Nyassa.” Mira’s voice carries a warning.
“It’s all right,” she says without looking away from me. “I’m not trying to pry into any secrets.”
“There are no secrets, Tidevein.” My voice comes out cool, controlled. “My duty is to get everyone to Whiterock. Everything else is secondary.”
Nyassa’s expression suggests she doesn’t believe me, but whatever else she might want to say is cut short when the raven sends urgent warning through our connection. I hold up a hand, and everyone freezes.
“There’s an Authority patrol coming our way.”
“Can we go around?” Mira asks.
I shake my head. Through the bird’s eyes, I can see the path ahead. “No, this is the only safe passage forward. Stay here.”
Nyassa steps forward. “My Lord—”
“No. You’re not ready for this kind of fight.”
The frustration that’s been building for days—my separation from Ellie, the knowledge that Sereven still lives, the constant knowledge that other people’s survival rests upon my shoulders—all of it falls away in the face of this immediate threat.
Here is something I can actually control. These soldiers represent everything that’s wrong with Meridian, everything that stands between me and finding Ellie.
I move forward alone, shadows pooling around me. The familiar rush of power flows through my veins as darkness responds to my call. For the first time in days, I’m not running or hiding, and not having to make choices between duty and desire.
I’m hunting.
The path winds between tall standing stones, natural pillars of granite that have stood here since before the Authority existed. They provide perfect concealment for someone who knows how to use it. I flow from shadow to shadow, the darkness bending around me until I’m invisible against the stone.
My raven circles overhead, feeding me constant information about the patrol’s position.
Eight soldiers, moving with the confidence of men who aren’t expecting trouble. Their formation is loose, their attention scattered and relaxed. Under different circumstances, facing normal Veinwardens, they might pose a real threat.
But I am far from normal.
The first soldier dies without even knowing I’m there. One moment he’s glancing around, the next shadows coalesce into a blade that opens his throat in one single, silent motion.
“Shal neth korvain.” Voidcraft swallows his dying gasp, then his body, leaving only blood cooling on the rocks.
The second notices his companion’s absence seconds too late. He turns, mouth opening to call out, but my shadowblade pierces his heart before sound can escape. His eyes widen in shock, then glaze over as I withdraw the blade. Another whispered word, and the void claims him as well.
The third soldier glimpses movement and spins toward me, sword clearing its sheath. He’s fast, well-trained, probably a veteran of numerous skirmishes against Veinwardens. His stance is solid, his grip sure.
But he’s fighting a man who’s spent years perfecting the art of killing with darkness.
Shadows explode outward from my position, coming down like a storm cloud to black out the light.
In the sudden darkness, their coordination shatters.
The third soldier’s sword cuts through empty air, while my blade opens his throat from behind.
He falls forward, clutching at the wound, but I’m already moving toward the next target.
“Attack!” The shout comes from somewhere in the darkness, strained with fear. “We’re under—”
His words die as my blade takes his head. The sound of his body hitting the ground echoes strangely in the shadow-scape I’ve formed around us, muffled and distorted.
The remaining four cluster together, backs to each other, swords out and ready. They’re scared now, facing an enemy they can’t see, can’t predict, and can’t fight by conventional means. Their training has prepared them for battles against other soldiers, not for this kind of warfare.
Shadows lift me and I take the fifth from above, dropping on top of him. My weight drives him to the ground while my blade severs his spine. He convulses once and goes still.
“It’s the Shadowvein Lord,” one of them screams, the words carrying pure terror. “He’s here!”
The sixth tries to run, breaking formation in blind panic. Shadows catch him before he’s taken three steps, wrapping around his legs like chains. He falls hard, striking his head against stone. I end his suffering with a quick thrust to the heart.
Two left.
They’ve given up any pretense of formation now, standing back to back, weapons shaking in their hands. One of them is young, barely more than a boy. The other is older, grizzled, with scars that tell of long service.
“Please,” the older one whispers. “We have families. Children.”
The plea should give me pause. If Ellie were here, she would remind me that these are men with lives and loved ones, not monsters.
But she isn’t, and his words only make me angrier.
How many Veinblood children have died because of soldiers like these?
How many families have been torn apart by the Authority’s persecution?
“So did we,” I say, and let the shadows take them both.
The void swallows their screams, their pleas, their final breaths. In less than a few minutes, the threat is eliminated, and the path to Whiterock cleared. But the violence has done nothing to ease the ache of separation from Ellie. If anything, it's made it worse.
Had she been here, would I have given them mercy?
I return to the others, shadows dissipating around me like smoke. Blood stains my clothes, my hands, probably my face, but no one comments on it. All but Nyassa have seen me kill before. They know what I'm capable of when unleashed.
“The path is clear now.”
Everyone resumes walking, except Nyassa. She stands on the path, staring at me.
“Eight men.” Her voice is quiet.
“Eight soldiers.”
“You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause to question them or offer surrender.”
“They were armed enemies in our path. I needed to know nothing else.” I stride forward, taking my place at the front of our small group. “You of all people know the cost of war. You planned to sacrifice yourself for a child once, after all.”
The comparison isn’t quite fair, but it serves its purpose. She falls silent, following with the others as we continue toward Whiterock.