Page 98 of Stormvein
Her protest dies in a strangled gasp. I lean closer until I can see every detail of her face. The fine laughter lines around her eyes, now deepened by fear. The sweat beading at her temples and above her top lip. The pallor of her skin as blood drains from it.
The stone beneath our feet groans, hairline cracks spreading outward from where I stand. The very foundations of Stonehaven are responding to my power, to myrage.A fortress built on a mountain riddled with caves and tunnels, all of them filled with shadows I can feel, I can touch, I cancommand.
“No justifications,” I say, my mouth inches from hers. “No noble intentions. Youknew. You’ve seen the Authority’s prisoners. You’ve seen the aftermath. Don’t pretend you were blind to what awaited me.”
Her eyes widen, pupils dilating until only the thinnest ring of color remains. The scent of fear rolls off her in waves—sweat, desperation,guilt. The body’s recognition of death’s proximity, even before the mind accepts it.
Her hands lift, but she doesn’t touch me, doesn’t try to pull my hand away from her throat. Even now, she remembers what I am …whoI am. The Shadowvein Lord. TheVareth’el. The man whose power is feared by the Authority.
The man whose return was prophesied. Whose vengeance was foretold.
A shadow tendril slides down my arm and wraps around her wrist. She gasps, trying to jerk away, but the darkness holds her fast. Another leaves my calf and coils around her ankle. A third separates from my throat and brushes against her cheek. They explore her, tasting her fear, sampling her desperation.
“You should kill me.” Her voice is broken. “You want to.”
The shadows weaving around my body pulse at her words, responding to the truth in them. They squeeze her wrists tighter, wind further up her legs, eager for my command.
Yes, Idowant to. Every fiber of my being demands her death. The very shadows that define me hunger for it. For justice. For balance restored.
I study her face, searching for the mask, the lie, the angle she’s trying to play. But there’s nothing left except hollow resignation, and the echo of her betrayal ringing through the silence.
“Should I?” I tighten my grip ever so slightly. The bones beneath her skin shift under my fingers. It would be so easy. All it would take is one squeeze to bring me one moment of release. The hunger for it burns inside me, dark and wild.
I could let it go. I could let my shadows consume her. I could use Voidcraft to erase her from existence. The room would fill with darkness for a heartbeat, and when it receded, nothing would remain of Lisandra but memory. Not even dust. Not even a whisper.
My body reminds me of the agony they carved into me. The chains. The blades. The whips. The cold floor soaked in blood that never seemed to stop.
Each memory flashes through my mind in vivid detail. The Authority brand pressed into my chest and cheek, searing flesh and soul alike. The breaking of bones. The isolation that should have driven me mad.
The shadows want balance. The void wants blood.
They rise from my skin, pooling around Lisandra’s feet like a dark tide, climbing her legs, her torso, reaching tendrils toward her face. The stone beneath us continues to crack, the entire room vibrating with the force of power barely contained.
The bruises on her throat darken, spreading beneath her skin. Not from the pressure of my fingers, but from the shadows that have slipped through her pores, into her veins, carrying darkness into her very blood.
“Do it.” Her voice is barely audible. “Finish it.”
Andthatiswhat stops me. Because shewantsit.
She wants to die. She wants me to become her executioner so she doesn’t have to live with the aftermath of her betrayal. It cuts through my rage like a blade, cooling the fire of vengeance.
I can see it clearly now. Death would be an escape for her. A quick end to guilt and shame. A coward’s exit from the consequences of her betrayal.
No, that’s not how this is going to play out. That’s not what she’ll get.
I force it back, assert control over the darkness that wants to consume her. The effort makes my jaw clench, my muscles tighten. The darkness in Lisandra’s veins fights my command to retreat, eager to consume her from within.
But I am the Vareth’el. I command the void. It does not command me.
My struggle is visible. Shadows writhe around us, the temperature fluctuating wildly as I regain control. The stone stops groaning. The cracks stop spreading. The darkness recedes.
Blackstone Ridge. Sereven. The deadline. The demand for proof.
She’s still useful. And Iwilluse her.
My fingers loosen. She collapses against the wall, chest heaving, hand flying to her throat, where bruises are already showing their presence. Dark impressions of my fingertips mark her skin like a brand. She gulps air in desperate gasps, her body shaking with relief and terror.
The blackness in her veins remains, though. A subtle pattern visible beneath her skin. A reminder of how close I came to letting the void take her.
