Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
ELLIE
“When the body fails, the spirit teaches what strength truly means.”
The Healer's Codex, ancient Tidevein manuscript
Sleep refuses to come. I lie flat on my back, staring at the wooden beams that crisscross the ceiling, while my mind goes over everything that has happened over the past two days.
Two days.
Two days since the decision was made to contact the other hidden settlements.
Two days since Vorith instructed Corwin to arrange messengers who could carry the most dangerous question possible into the wilderness.
Are you willing to come out from years of hiding to fight alongside the Vareth’el?
The tension has been suffocating. Every conversation dissolves into speculation about what will happen if the settlements agree or if they refuse.
What will happen if the messengers are caught by Authority patrols?
Every face shows the same desperate hope warring with terror.
These people have survived by staying invisible.
Now they’re considering stepping into the light …
and straight into the Authority’s line of sight.
The knock at the door, when it finally comes, brings relief with it.
“All the messengers returned overnight.” Kessa’s voice is tight. “Vorith has called a meeting in the common hall. You’re to come immediately.”
I dress quickly in the pre-dawn darkness, my hands shaking as I pull on my boots. The silver energy inside me responds to my anxiety, wanting to pulse outward, but I force it down.
Not here. Not now.
The last thing anyone needs is me accidentally lighting up the room.
The common hall is buzzing with nervous energy when Kessa and I arrive.
Oil lamps flicker along the walls, casting dancing shadows that seem to mirror the tension in the room.
Village elders cluster around a central table covered in maps, their faces grave.
The three Veinblood masters stand together near the wall.
Corwin paces near the door, while five men I don’t recognize stand near him.
Beside them are two familiar faces—Jorana and Bessa. They smile at me warmly.
Vorith looks up when we enter.
“Good. You're here.” She straightens, and the buzzing conversations die away as every eye turns toward her. “The settlements have spoken. All seven have agreed to act.”
My heart skips a beat.
“They are sending thirty Veinbloods from each settlement to aid us,” Vorith continues. “Over two hundred people willing to fight.”
The room erupts, voices rising in a mix of excitement and fear. Someone laughs, a short, sharp sound of disbelief. Another person starts crying.
“Quiet!”
When silence falls, Meren steps forward.
“We should start small. Target the Authority supply convoys first and some of the smaller outposts. We need to build our strength gradually before attempting anything major.”
“Attack where they’re weakest,” someone else agrees. “Test our abilities on how they respond. We need to understand what we’re facing before we commit to anything larger.”
Agreement ripples through the crowd. It sounds reasonable. It sounds safe.
But the words hit me wrong. My chest tightens, heat building beneath my ribs as my power responds to my growing horror.
Small attacks. Gradual escalation. They’re talking about announcing their existence to Sereven in a way that will give him time to hunt down every settlement before they can mount a real resistance.
There won’t be a second chance at this. There can’t be.
The power surging through me grows hotter, demanding release. Sparks jump between my fingers, and I surge to my feet before I can stop myself.
“No!” My voice cuts through the discussions.
Faces turn toward me. Some skeptical, others curious, a few showing the same fierce determination that drives me forward.
“No, you can’t do that. You can’t give them warning that you exist.” My hands press flat against the table.
“You don’t test the waters. You don’t give Sereven time to prepare.
You take back what belongs to you. You take back Ashenvale. ”
The silence that follows is electric. I can practically hear minds working, processing what I said.
“The Lirien Spire.” My voice steadies as confidence takes hold. “Isn’t that where the Shadowvein Lords ruled from for generations? The throne room that belongs to Sacha?”
Nods pass through the room. Yes, they remember. Some of them lived through those days, saw the banners change, watched the Authority claim what had never truly belonged to them.
The image forms clearly in my mind—Sacha walking into his ancestral home. His expression when he realizes what we’ve accomplished in his absence, what we’ve reclaimed for him without him even knowing.
“Picture his face when he discovers Ashenvale flying Veinblood banners again.” My voice grows stronger, more certain with every word. “When he realizes his throne room is ready for his return. When he understands that his people never stopped fighting for him!”
The room has gone completely still. Even the air seems to be holding its breath.
“Ashenvale is too well defended,” Meren points out. But there’s something in his eyes now, a spark that wasn’t there before.
“By soldiers who believe you are all dead.” I straighten to face the room. “When did they last face Earthveins who can bring down their walls? Flameveins who can melt their weapons?”
The energy in the room is shifting. I can see it in the way people are leaning forward, in the straightening of shoulders, in the fire beginning to kindle in their eyes.
“They are not prepared for what you can unleash. They can’t be, because they believe you don’t exist. Their entire defense is built on the assumption that Veinbloods are nothing more than a distant memory.”
Jorana steps forward from where she’s been standing near the table. Her expression has shifted from skeptical to thoughtful, and when she speaks, her voice carries the tone of someone reassessing everything.
“If you’re serious about taking Ashenvale, we need more than courage. We need intelligence.”
“We have it.” Corwin’s quiet voice cuts through the tension. “We’ve been watching their movements for years. Guard rotations, patrol routes, supply schedules. We know them all because we’ve had to, just to survive living under their eyes.”
Relief makes me lightheaded. They’re not dismissing my idea. They’re considering it.
“It wouldn’t be difficult to identify the weak points in their defenses,” he continues, moving to spread a more detailed map across the table. The parchment crackles as he unrolls it, revealing Ashenvale in detail. “The question is whether we have the coordination to exploit them all at once.”
I lean forward to study the map. The city is laid out in three concentric rings, with the Lirien Spire at its heart. Guard towers mark regular intervals along each wall. It looks formidable … but not impossible.
“We would need more than guard schedules.” Jorana studies the new map. “We need to know who might support us inside the city. Who remembers the old days. Which guards might turn if they knew Veinbloods have returned."
She’s talking about finding allies inside Ashenvale itself. People who remember what the city was like before the Authority claimed it for their stronghold.
“There are people who remember,” Bessa says quietly. “Those who lived through the transition. Some of them hated what they saw.”
“Sereven has increased patrols throughout the city.” Jorana’s finger traces routes on the map. “Tighter security around important buildings. More checkpoints. Ever since the proclamation was sent out confirming the Vareth’el’s existence … and yours.”
Her reminder sends a chill down my spine. The bounty. The wanted notices. But also the hope. People now know Sacha is alive and free.
“Is Sereven there himself? In the city? The last time I saw him was at Thornspire. That’s where I lost contact with Sa—with the Vareth’el.”
“He hasn’t been seen publicly, but intelligence suggests he returned to the city, yes.”
He didn’t go to Stonehaven, but returned here instead … why? Did Varam manage to get everyone out? Did Sereven find Stonehaven empty? Or did he kill everyone? I wish I had some way of finding out.
“We need to identify potential allies before we act.” Corwin’s voice drags my attention back to the discussion. “We need to know who we can trust.”
“And we have to get that information without revealing ourselves,” Jorana warns. “One wrong person, one whispered rumor, and Sereven will know we're coming.”
“I want to be a part of this.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, but I don’t regret saying them.
The room goes quiet again, and Vorith’s expression hardens.
“It’s too dangerous. With the bounty on your head—”
“I know about the bounty!” My power flares, lighting up the room. Gasps echo through the crowd. I shove it down again. “I can’t just sit here while everyone else does the work. There has to be a way that I can help.”
“The risk is too great,” she insists. “If you’re captured—”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
The silence stretches until Bessa breaks it, her voice thoughtful.
“With her power, she would be useful to have inside the city. She could send a signal to those waiting outside when we need them to act. Light that could be seen from the walls.”
“How do you smuggle someone with a price on their head into the Authority’s most heavily guarded city?” Vorith’s voice is clipped.
“The same way Corwin got her out. With her eyes shielded and identification papers.”
“Whatever it takes.” I meet each of their gazes in turn. “I won’t watch from somewhere safe while everyone else risks their lives to reclaim what belongs to Sacha.”