Page 41 of Stormvein
My first kill comes so easily that it shocks me. A soldier turns, eyes widening in terror at our approach. He tries to react, but he’s too slow. We launch ourselves at his throat, teethpuncturing flesh with sickening ease. Hot blood floods my-its-ourmouth, copper-sweet and thick. His scream gurgles into silence.
I should be horrified. I should recoil from this violence. Instead, savage satisfaction floods through us both.
This is justice. This is necessary. This isretribution.
We tear through the Authority forces with methodical brutality. The resistance of armor giving way beneath our claws sends shivers of pleasure through our shared nerves. The crack of bone between powerful jaws becomes a percussion of vengeance. A soldier raises his blade. We duck beneath it and disembowel him with a single swipe. His insides spill across the stone, hot and slick.
Back in my body, I know that I’ll be horrified by this later, but right now, in the moment, I revel in it. In the violence. In the blood. In the death I’m dealing.
A soldier fires a crossbow. The bolt grazes our flank, pain flaring sharp then dull as we launch ourselves at his face, tearing through eye sockets and bone with equal ease.
With each kill, the link between us grows stronger. I am changed with every life we take. Something is awakening inside me, a part I didn’t know was there.
Is this me? Is this what I’ve always been capable of? Or is this Sacha’s influence, his shadow nature bleeding into mine when his raven hit my chest?
Whatever the answer is, I can’t stop. Iwon’tstop. Not until we reach him.
Is this how Sacha feels when shadow flows through him? This terrible rightness. Like everything inside him finally fits.
Our fighters rally behind the chaos we’ve unleashed. Varam seizes the opening, cutting through the thinning guards to the wagon. His blade finds the convoy captain’s throat before the man can even lift his weapon. Three Authority soldiers moveto intercept him, but we, the creature and I, get there first, slamming into them like a battering ram with claws extended. Blood sprays in an arc across the ground.
The Authority reinforcements falter. Some break rather than facing the monster with bared teeth and bloodied fur, fleeing back up the hill. Others try to hold their line, but it collapses under the mist stalker’s relentless attack.
Through its eyes, I watch Mira force the lock open on the cage. The door swings wide. Hands reach in to lift Sacha’s broken body with the care reserved for the dead or dying. His head lolls lifelessly, blood-matted hair obscuring his face. Several fighters recoil, but Varam pushes forward.
“Gently,” he commands. “Support his head and spine.”
They lift Sacha with excruciating care, as if handling something precious and broken beyond repair. His limbs bend at unnatural angles. A sound of collective horror ripples through the fighters as the full extent of his injuries becomes visible in the daylight.
Before I can take in more, the mist stalker breaks away, turning toward a soldier staggering to his feet. He’s dead before anyone can react.
Is he alive? Tell me!My thought cuts through the animal’s rage, bringing sudden focus. The mist stalker stops and lifts its head, then turns its focus back toward the wagon.
I need to see him. I need to know if we’re too late.
“Kiran.” Somehow, I pull my consciousness back to my own body. “We need to get down there.”
He stares at me. “But … you … your power …”
“It’s under control.” It’s not. We both know it. The silver is crackling along my arms, lighting the edges of my sleeves. “Please. I need to see him.”
I don’t know if it’s training or fear, but he nods. “Stay behind me.”
We move toward the gap, picking our way down a steep path that winds between boulders. The battle below is slowing down. Most of the Authority soldiers are dead or have fled after seeing the mist stalker, leaving our fighters to secure the convoy.
The creature is waiting for me at the bottom, its form flickering between solid and translucent. It moves to my side, blood still dripping from its teeth and claws. I curl my fingers into the fur between its shoulder blades and let it guide us forward.
Fighters part to let us through, their faces caught between awe and fear. No one tries to stop me as I approach the wagon where they’ve laid Sacha on a makeshift pallet. Varam and Mira are standing on either side of him, their expressions grim.
“Is he alive?”
Varam nods once, but there’s a muscle ticking in his jaw, and I don’t miss the horror in his eyes before he forces it down. “Barely.”
I push past him, needing to see for myself.
The silver light leaking from me washes over Sacha’s broken body, casting his wounds in stark, unforgiving relief. What I see stops my breath and freezes my heart mid-beat.
This isn’t the man who left me in Ashenvale. This isn’t even someone I recognize.
