Chapter 38 #2
“The roads are clearer than they’ve been in years,” Telren says. “Authority patrols have all but disappeared between here and Greenvale.”
“How many made the journey to Ashenvale?”
“Only twelve of us. The rest remained in Greenvale for now. The village has settled and is managing with the extra people, but we thought you might have need of us here.”
“Rest first. The journey can’t have been easy. We’ll speak more once you’ve eaten and slept.”
Nyassa turns to me. “Ellie.”
I step forward to embrace her. Her hand pats gently against my shoulder, then she steps back, and reaches into the pocket of her cloak. “I kept this safe for you.” When she opens her palm, my eyes land on the bracelet lying there.
My breath catches. “I thought I’d lost it during the ritual.” I reach out, fingers hovering over it without touching.
“It was on the ground beside me when I woke. I hoped we would eventually see each other again.” She carefully opens the clasp and places it around my wrist.
A jolt of electricity jumps through me, making me gasp, but I don’t react the same way I did in Chicago.
“Thank you!”
She touches my cheek. “I should be the one thanking you. You brought me home. Now if someone could direct me to where I can find Vorith and the others … I was told they survived also?”
“Mira will take you to them.” Sacha steps up beside me, his palm coming to rest against the small of my back. I lean against him, watching as they file out, led by Mira. His hand squeezes my hip gently then drops, and he returns his attention to the maps.
“We’ll take a small group to Greyhold.”
“How small?” Varam moves to stand beside him.
I prepare to argue against being left behind.
“Eight. Myself, Ellie, and six others. Two Veinbloods, four Veinwardens.”
Surprise runs through me at being included so matter-of-factly in his planning, followed by determination.
“I’ll take a Flamevein, and an Earthvein. The rest should be Veinwardens with experience in fighting and stealth.”
“And me for what?”
“For everything else.” The words are simple. The meaning behind them is everything.
His eyes meet mine. In them I see recognition of what I’ve become—his chosen consort, his lover, and someone who will support him in doing whatever it takes to reclaim his kingdom.
A slow smile lifts his lips, and for a heartbeat the room and everyone in it disappears.
There’s only me and him, and the bond pulsing between us with warmth and love. Then Varam moves, breaking the spell.
“When do you plan to leave?”
“Tonight. We need to strike before they can establish a proper defense. Once we’ve taken the keep, spread the word.
Every remaining commander will have to choose between abandoning their posts or waiting for us to come for them.
We will strip away every ally, every resource, every supporter Sereven has left until he’s alone. ”
For the first time since the coronation, the reality of what I accomplished by taking Ashenvale hits me fully. It gave people proof that the Authority’s control can be broken.
This isn't just about Sacha reclaiming his birthright or me finding my place in this world. We've become symbols of something larger. Hope made manifest in two people who survived everything Sereven threw at them and came back stronger.
The rest of the afternoon is used to prepare for the night ahead. Varam selects which Veinwardens will accompany us. Weapons are sharpened, supplies gathered, and horses readied.
The sun is lowering over the horizon when we finally ride from Ashenvale, and the first hour passes without incident.
We follow paths that wind through hills and woodland, avoiding the main roads where Authority forces might still be operating.
The landscape rolls past us in shades of gray and black, trees creating pools of deeper shadow that could hide friend or enemy alike.
Sacha rides at the front, his attention split between our immediate surroundings and whatever his raven shows him from above.
“There’s movement ahead.” Sacha breaks the silence, his eyes black as he watches something through his raven's vision. “Soldiers coming along the path. Twenty at least. There’s no way we can avoid them, so be ready.”
We rein in our horses, and my heart rate picks up speed as we wait. After a minute or two, Authority soldiers appear ahead of us. They move along the road in loose formation.
“They look like an Ashenvale patrol," Mira murmurs beside me.
The man in front spots us first. He raises his hand, bringing his men to a halt. His eyes are alert as he takes in our small group. Even at this distance, I can see him assessing our numbers, our equipment, and our potential threat level.
“Dismount and identify yourselves,” he calls out.
"I don’t think so," Sacha replies.
The words hang in the air between us. Tension rises immediately, hands moving closer to weapons. The Authority soldiers shift their stance, recognizing the threat in Sacha's response.
“Who do you think you are?” The captain’s hand moves to his sword hilt. His men form up behind him, weapons ready, shields raised.
“I think I'm the reason your High Commander is hiding like a coward.”
Recognition flashes through the captain’s eyes. His gaze moves from Sacha to me, and understanding hits him. He knows exactly who we are.
“The usurper prince and his storm witch.” His lip curls, derision dripping from his tone. “There's a bounty on both your heads.”
Heads turn toward me, faces showing greed and determination. Whispers pass between them.
“Commander Breslin will reward us well for bringing them in,” one of his men calls out.
“Surrender to Authority justice," the captain demands. “You're both wanted for treason against the Authority.”
“There is no Authority left to surrender to.” Shadows begin to gather around Sacha’s horse. “Only scattered remnants clinging to a dead cause.”
The captain draws his sword, and his men follow suit. Steel rings against leather and metal as weapons clear sheaths in unison.
Fear crashes through me as the distance closes between us.
The moonlight catches on their blades, on the metal studs of their armor, creating a constellation of sharp edges approaching through the darkness.
These men aren't being driven by desperation, they're hungry for the reward they might get if they capture us.
I can’t let that happen. Thunder rolls overhead.
I slide from my horse seconds before lightning erupts from my skin in a blinding surge of silver fire.
It arcs between my fingers, then leaps toward the advancing soldiers.
The captain convulses as the first bolt takes him, his eyes wide with shock for just a moment before the power tears through his body.
His scream cuts short as it rips through his armor, turning metal protection into a conductor of death.
But the lightning doesn't stop there.
It spreads like a living thing, jumping from soldier to soldier in a chain of destruction.
Each man it touches becomes a conduit for the next strike.
Silver fire races through their ranks, following metal weapons and armor, turning their own equipment against them.
Swords become lightning rods, shields conduct electricity directly into the hands that hold them.
Bodies drop one after another. Some fall in silence before they can even process what's happening.
Others scream as the lightning cooks them from within, their voices echoing off the trees lining the path before cutting off abruptly.
The smell of burned flesh fills the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of charred metal.
In seconds, it's over.
Twenty-four soldiers lie scattered across the road.
Steam rises from their bodies in the cool night air.
I stand among the carnage, silver light still crackling around my hands.
The power pulses through me, reluctant to subside, hungry for more targets.
The lightning came so easily. One moment of fear, and I became a weapon of mass destruction.
My stomach heaves, and I stumble away from the bodies, falling to my knees as bile burns up my throat. The metallic stench of burned flesh and blood makes me retch, my mind rejecting what I've just done.
I didn't mean for it to happen like that!
But that’s a lie. Part of me wanted them dead. Part of me enjoyed watching them burn, enjoyed the way they fell before my power like wheat before a scythe.
I know what I'm becoming. I've known for a while now. Each time I use my power, each time the lightning responds to my emotions, I become harder. I become someone who can kill without hesitation.
The silver light pulses beneath my skin, responding to my horror, feeding on it. Even now, surrounded by the evidence of what I've done, it wants more.
And the most terrifying part isn't that I can do this.
It's that it's getting easier.