Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
SACHA
“Sacrifice without purpose is waste. Purpose without sacrifice is dream.”
Veinwarden Prayers
Children’s voices drift across the square as dusk settles over Greenvale.
Stonehaven children, who days ago were fleeing for their lives through mountain passes, now play alongside village children who have never known anything other than this valley’s safety.
Their games show nothing of the trauma of the past few days, the way only children can manage.
Adults stand around, conversations flowing, as though these people have known each other for years rather than days. The sight brings a small sense of relief. We found sanctuary when we needed it most.
But not even that relief helps me to relax. The bond with Ellie continues to grow sharper, her emotions reaching me across the distance. The pull northwest tugs at me with growing intensity, and the uncertainty about what she’s facing eats at my ability to focus on immediate concerns.
I want nothing more than to follow that pull, to abandon everything in favor of seeking her out.
But everyone in Greenvale is trusting me to protect them, to make decisions that ensure their survival rather than pursuing my own wants and needs.
The weight of that responsibility keeps me here, even as I wish otherwise.
I have to keep telling myself that this is worth the torment of waiting. This is worth the constant ache of separation from Ellie.
I make my way toward the blacksmith’s forge, as a group of children run past, their voices high pitched and excited as they play some elaborate game involving hidden treasures and dramatic rescues.
The sound reminds me of why I’m here, why this matters beyond my own personal longing.
These families, these children. They deserve the chance to build new lives, without looking over their shoulders for Authority patrols.
The forge sits at the edge of the village, close enough to serve the community but far enough to contain the noise and heat of metalworking. Inside, the tools hang exactly where he left them. Hammer and tongs, files and punches, the anvil where raw metal was shaped into useful things.
I run my fingers along the edge of the anvil, feeling the countless small dents and marks left by years of work. A workspace abandoned too soon but one that served its purpose well.
His whispered words to me haunt me still.
You saved my family thirty years past, helped hide our children when the Authority first came for Veinbloods.
The memory of that night comes back—desperate families fleeing in darkness, children who couldn’t understand why their world had become dangerous, parents who trusted a stranger to help them disappear before dawn brought searching soldiers.
I’ve forgotten their faces over the years, lost them among countless others who needed help, but the blacksmith remembered.
Standing in his workspace, surrounded by the evidence of a life spent creating rather than destroying, I make a silent vow.
His death will not have been in vain. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges I face, his sacrifice will continue to bear fruit in the lives he helped save.
The bond flares again, bringing with it a sharp spike of alarm that isn’t my own. My fingers clench against the anvil’s edge. Something is happening to Ellie, and I’m trapped by duty and distance, unable to protect her.
A soft footstep announces someone’s approach, and I turn in time to see Varam coming through the door. His expression is thoughtful as he scans the forge before his gaze stops on me.
“The soldiers’ bodies have been moved. The village elders wanted to bury them, but we took them away from the village and scattered them instead. If anyone comes to check, they’re not going to find them in a hurry.”
I nod, my attention split between his words and the persistent ache of the bond. The practical details feel distant compared to the growing certainty that Ellie needs me.
“Good. What about their weapons?”
“Distributed among our fighters. Some of the villagers have hunting experience. They can make use of the crossbows, if needed. Their horses were added to the paddock with the others.” He props one shoulder against the door frame, and folds his arms. “The supply riders are due in the next few days, what is the plan for them?”
“I’ll handle them before they reach Greenvale. I have my raven watching. That will warn me long in advance of their arrival.”
“Once they’re eliminated, their disappearance will eventually bring investigation.”
“We’ll have a week, perhaps ten days before that happens.” Long enough to establish defenses, not long enough to feel secure.
“And then?”
The question isn’t as simple as it sounds.
As soon as I move against the supply riders, it will change Greenvale from a neutral village into an active participant in my war against the Authority.
Every person here—man, woman, and child—will become a target.
The blood of innocents will join the blacksmith’s on my hands.
“We won’t abandon this place or the villagers who have risked everything to help us.” These people opened their doors to us. They deserve protection, not abandonment.
“I’ve taken a good look around. The village has natural advantages for defense. The approaches are narrow, water sources can’t be easily cut off. With some preparation, a small force could easily hold against a much larger one.”
“For a time.” But not indefinitely. The Authority has resources a mountain village simply cannot match. “How many of our fighters are combat-ready?”
“Thirty-seven. Maybe a dozen villagers on top of that.”
The bond carries another wave of emotion from Ellie—fear, determination, and underneath it all, her strength. My fingers flex against the anvil, shadows pooling briefly before I force them back. Varam’s eyes catch the movement.
“Is there something I should know?”
“My connection with her is getting harder to ignore.” The admission costs me. Vulnerability has never come easy, especially when lives hang in the balance. But Varam deserves honesty, even when it reveals weaknesses I’d rather not show.
“Can you tell where she is yet?”
“Still northwest. That much has been consistent since the bond returned.” I look in that direction. “If she’s moving that way …”
“Then she’s heading toward Ashenvale, if she’s not already there.”
“Which means she’s in danger. She has no papers to identify her, no contacts to make sure she’s safe, and—”
“She’s not the same girl you brought to Ravencross, Sacha. Ellie isn’t helpless any longer. She’s Stormvein.”
I understand what he’s saying. I’ve witnessed how she grew from a confused outsider to someone capable of channeling power that can control storms. But having power doesn’t eliminate having vulnerability. I can testify to that. In fact, it often creates new forms of it.
“Power without experience is as dangerous to the wielder as it can be to their enemies. She may be Stormvein, but she’s still learning what that means.”
“She’s no longer unprepared,” Varam counters. “She has lived in our world for months now. She’s faced Sereven beside you. She used her powers to bring you back from the brink of death.”
“I know she’s capable, but she is alone.
I also know that she wouldn’t want me to abandon these people.
” My voice roughens despite my efforts to stay controlled.
The competing loyalties tear at me. “I know that. But I don’t know if I would be able to live with myself if something happens to her while I’m here. ”
The admission falls into silence. In all the years Varam has known me, through every battle and crisis, I’ve never let personal feelings override duty. The fact that I’m even considering it now shows how completely Ellie has altered my nature.
He steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can’t be everywhere at once, and you can’t be responsible for every life that might be lost because of the choices you make. Sometimes all you can do is make a decision that serves the most people, and trust others to handle their own battles.”
I’ve made similar decisions countless times over the years, weighing lives against missions, immediate needs against long-term strategy. But logic provides cold comfort when the person at risk holds half your soul.
“You didn’t see her when we thought you’d been killed.
” His voice softens. “She was strong, Sacha, more than strong. She was steel wrapped in determination. She stood in front of a room full of seasoned fighters and made them listen. And at Glassfall Gap? She held her own against trained soldiers while channeling power that should have torn her apart. That woman is fierce and resourceful, and she will survive whatever she’s facing. ”
The truth of his words forces me to face the reality I’ve been avoiding.
Either choice involves risk, sacrifice, and the possibility of irreversible consequences.
Both choices require trusting in something I can’t control—either Ellie’s strength and resourcefulness, or the loyalty of villagers who have already risked everything for strangers.
But Varam has always been better at accepting the limitations of what we can control than me.
He focuses his energy on the things that can be influenced rather than torturing himself over things that can’t.
It’s one of the qualities that makes him an exceptional second-in-command, and one I’ve never mastered.
“And if she dies while I’m here?”
“Then she dies knowing that hundreds of people live because you chose duty over desire. She dies knowing her sacrifice meant something, and contributed to something larger than personal happiness.”