Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
SACHA
“The Authority builds monuments to its power. The Vein builds connections between hearts.”
Wisdom of the Wandering Sages
The raven returns at dawn. Before I can even register its arrival fully, it floods my mind with images that turn my stomach.
It shows me Millhaven from a bird’s eye view.
Ash drifts between collapsed timber frames where homes once stood.
Bodies sprawl in the village square, arms flung wide, faces turned toward the sky.
The mill wheel, which gave the village its name, stands motionless above the creek. Char marks streak its surface.
“Survivors?”
The image changes, pulling back across the mountainside until it finds the group my scouts are shepherding along the narrow paths.
Twenty people, maybe twenty-five. Children clinging to adults, an old woman supported between two younger men, her head wrapped in bloodstained cloth.
They pick their way slowly, coming toward Greenvale.
I draw the familiar back into me with a thought, feeling the cool press of shadow as it dissolves back into my skin as I stride back to the village square where people are clustered in worried groups. When they see me approaching, the conversations die, and their eyes turn toward me.
Eyes that say, “Fix this. Make it safe. Tell us what to do.”
Erya stands apart from the others, her hands clasped in front of her, and I walk over to her.
“The scouts are on their way back with survivors. Some are injured. We will need to prepare to receive them.”
Some villagers react with sharp intakes of breath, others immediately spring into action. These people likely know people in Millhaven. They probably trade with them, attend the same seasonal festivals, share family connections.
“How long do we have before they get here?” Erya asks, already moving toward the small common hall.
“An hour, maybe less. We’ll need to clear some space for the wounded.” I raise my voice, beckoning to Mira. “Send word to Lysa. We’ll need every healer we can find.”
The villagers organize themselves quickly. Some gather bandages and healing supplies, while others try to make space to house the newcomers.
Varam appears beside me while I’m watching people rushing back and forth.
“Twenty more mouths to feed. Our supplies aren’t going to stretch much further.”
“We’ll find a way.”
The survivors reach Greenvale an hour later. Most bear wounds that weren't caused by accident. Burns mark half their faces, others have hastily bandaged arms and legs. All of them have the same empty stare of people who've watched their neighbors die.
I move among them, crouching beside a young mother whose infant hasn’t stopped crying since they arrived. Her dress is singed along one side, and her hands shake when she tries to adjust the baby’s blankets.
“They arrived without warning,” she whispers when I ask her. “They didn’t make any demands, or ask questions.” She bites her lip, and shakes her head, tears filling her eyes. I pat her arm, and move on.
“They just cut people down and set fire to the buildings,” an old man with his arm in a crude sling tells me.
An old woman steps into my path. A younger man tries to hold her back, his face flushing with embarrassment or fear, but she shakes off his hands, and points at me.
“You. You’re him. The one they paraded through our village.”
The younger man's face pales. “Grandmother, please …”
She ignores him. “The convoy. You were in that cage they dragged through our streets.”
“Yes.”
“Half-dead from fever.” She looks around at the villagers hurrying to help the wounded. “Greenvale took you in?”
“Yes. They showed compassion when they had every reason to fear.”
“Millhaven is gone. Burned to ash. They came in the night. Authority soldiers with torches and swords. They made us watch while they killed anyone who tried to resist.”
Her grandson stares at me. “The convoy. That was you in the cage?” He glances at his grandmother, then back to me. “But the stories say you're a monster who devours children.”
“And what do you think now?” My voice is soft.
He looks around. “Monsters don’t send their own people into danger to rescue strangers. The stories they told us—”
“Were lies,” his grandmother finishes. “Stories written by those who fear what they cannot control,” the old woman snaps. “I’ve lived long enough to recognize the difference between strength and cruelty. What they did to you in that cage wasn’t justice. It was torture.”
More survivors gather around us as she talks.
“They burned everything,” another Millhaven villager says. “One of them said they couldn't leave witnesses to what they'd seen. Something about orders from the High Commander.”
A man with a bandaged arm speaks up. “I was hiding in the grain stores when they came. heard the captain giving orders to his men. He said something about cleaning up loose ends.”
“Loose ends?”
“Anyone who saw you in that cage. Anyone who might spread word about your condition.
They don't want witnesses to talk about what they did to you,” he replies.
“Now that you're free again, can't have people saying the Authority had to torture you near to death just to keep you contained. That makes them look desperate instead of strong.”
Cold fury builds inside me. Sereven is murdering innocent people to protect his reputation.
The convoy was meant to show his victory.
What the villagers actually saw was a man tortured nearly to death, barely clinging to life.
Now that I've escaped, those witnesses become dangerous to his narrative of strength and control.
“Sereven will answer for what he's done to your village. And to every other village he destroys to protect his lies.”
The man meets my eyes. “Good. Make the bastard pay.”
Lysa arrives then with a mix of women from Greenvale and Stonehaven. They take the wounded into the common hall where they can be treated. As they move away, fear crashes through the bond from Ellie. Sharp, immediate terror that almost drives me to my knees before I can catch myself.
“Sacha?” Varam’s voice comes from across a distance. I can’t do anything more than shake my head while I try to separate her panic from my own thoughts. My heart hammers against my ribs, my pulse races with adrenaline meant for dangers I can’t see, can’t fight, can’t even understand.
What is scaring her? Has she been captured?
I force myself upright, gripping the well’s edge until my fingers ache. The emotion fades as fast as it struck, leaving only residual anxiety and the bitter taste of powerlessness.
Twenty-seven years of imprisonment, and I’ve never felt as trapped as I do in this moment.
I cross to where Mira is standing near the edge of the square, Varam at my side, his eyes on me, worry clear in his expression. But he knows better than to say anything while we’re in public, where everyone can see us.
“I think Sereven is eliminating witnesses. Anyone who saw me in that cage. Which means they’ll come for Greenvale next.”
Is Ellie safe now?
“We need to find out where the Authority forces are now,” Varam says, still frowning at me.
I send my raven out, searching across the mountain paths and valleys. It takes a few minutes, but eventually it finds the Authority camp two hours’ march from here.
“Fifteen soldiers, making camp in Thornwood Valley.”
“They’ll be waiting for nightfall to attack. When everyone is at their most vulnerable,” Varam says.
“Then we must attack them first. Twenty fighters should be enough to overwhelm them. We surround the valley before they can break camp.”
“What’s the ground like where they are?”
The raven drops lower, showing me clearer details. “A natural depression with steep sides. There are three ways out. North, east, and south. If we block all the exits, they’ll have nowhere to run.”
“We’ll need to move quickly,” Varam says. “Before they break camp.”
“Wait here.” I cross the square to where Erya is overseeing a group of people building temporary shelters.
Touching her arm, I draw her out of hearing.
“We have found the soldiers who burned Millhaven. They’re camped two hours south of here.
I’m going to take some of the Veinwardens and deal with them before they can do the same to Greenvale. ”
Her face pales. “Do you have enough men?”
“More than enough.” Mira’s voice comes from behind me.
“But what if more soldiers come while you’re away?”
“Nyassa will stay here with the rest of our fighters. You’ll be—”
Exhaustion buckles my knees, and my vision blurs.
“My Lord?” Erya’s voice comes from a distance.
I force myself to focus on the conversation. “Protected. You’ll be protected.”
“Lord Torran.” Mira steps up beside me.
“Go and pick out twenty Veinwardens.” I ignore her questioning look. “Now.”
It takes less than thirty minutes to gather twenty fighters from among those who came from Whiterock, and we set off toward the Authority camp.
The trek through the mountain passes takes two hours on foot. Sparse mountain firs and rocky outcroppings provide cover while my raven circles overhead. An hour into the journey, I stumble, anger flooding through me.
“My Lord?” One of the fighters looks back.
"Keep moving."
What is happening? What could have provoked her to fury?
The question gnaws at me as we continue.
Thornwood Valley spreads below us like a natural amphitheater. The patrol has made camp at the lowest point. Fifteen men, sitting around a fire, believing themselves safe from any attack.
They’re wrong.
“Varam, take six fighters north. Stay in the tree line until you can circle around and block the northern pass. Mira, take the eastern approach.”
Both nod and begin moving their fighters into position. I wait with the remaining fighters until the shadows swallow them before leading my group toward the south—the widest path, the one desperate men would choose if they needed to flee quickly.