Page 18 of Stormvein
The tension builds fast. I flatten my hands to the floor, grounding myself in the coolness of the stone.
“He fought, kept them distracted so Varam could escape, but … but that crystal tore his shadows apart. They … unraveled.” I force myself to continue. “The raven, his familiar, it kept breaking apart.”
My chest constricts, making each breath harder to draw. “Then the darkness started … I don’t know … changing? Pulling inward toward him. And then it … collapsed. And he was gone.”
I’m breathing too fast. Like I’ve run too far.
“His raven flew toward me. It looked wrong. Flickering and then … and then …”
I can’t continue. The memory of that moment, of the familiar merging into me, sends the power spiraling out of control.
Power erupts from my skin in jagged lightning bolts. The shadows in the chamber jump and distort.
“The storm came from nowhere,” I manage between ragged breaths. “From inside me, maybe. It felt like everything broke open.”
I double over, gasping, as another wave hits, bright enough that it reflects off the walls.
“Ellie!” Telren’s voice cuts through my struggle. “Breathe!”
But I can’t. Telling him what happened has brought it all back. Every detail, every moment of helplessness as I watched Sacha disappear. The energy responds to my distress, feeding onmy grief and rage until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“I should have done something,” I gasp out. “Should have?—”
It breaks loose again, stronger this time. My skin feels like it’s splitting apart. Light bursts from my hands and arms, casting wild shadows that dance across the walls.
“Focus on your breathing,” Telren says firmly.
I try, but every inhale brings more memories, more images of that crystal tearing through Sacha’s power. The energy inside me becomes chaotic andpainful.
“Just breathe, Ellie. Don’t try to stop it. Let it flow while you breathe.”
I force myself to inhale. Focus on counting breaths.
One … inhale.
Two … exhale.
Three … inhale.
Four … exhale.
“Good. That’s it. Keep going.”
Each breath comes easier than the last. The light still flickers along my veins, but it’s not exploding outward anymore. I’m shaking, soaked in sweat, but no longer on the verge of completely losing control.
“Now then,” he says once my breathing has steadied. “We’ll keep working through this. Every time the memory becomes too much, we’ll pause and let you find your center again.”
He has me repeat it—what happened, what I saw, what it did. Each cycle leaves me more drained, but also a little more capable of holding onto myself when the grief threatens to consume me.
By the time he says we’re done, I’m completely wrung out. My throat aches from talking, from breathing through the pain. Every part of me feels frayed, exposed.
“That’s enough for today. You’ve done well.” He smiles at my headshake. “It might not seem like it, but you’ve come a longway.” The smile fades. “I also understand why you believe Lord Torran may still be alive … and I believe you.”
The relief his words bring me is almost overwhelming.
“You have to tell Lisandra.”
He’s shaking his head before I’ve finished speaking.
