Page 174 of Stormvein
I try to speak, but only a whimper escapes. The mist stalker continues its frenzy, ripping through another glassback while I experience every sensation as if it’s happening to me. The resistance of alien flesh parting under our claws, the burning taste of toxic ichor, the mindless need to destroy what threatens us.
“The threads.” Sacha’s voice softens, an anchor in the chaos threatening to sweep me away. His shadows extend, dark tendrils that reach out to intertwine with my wild energy. “Direct it at the threads, not everywhere. Focus, Mel’shira.”
His shadows create a channel for my power, a conduit that somehow knows how to focus the wildness inside me where it needs to go. It’s intimate in a way I don’t have words for, his energy moving through mine, directing without controlling.
My hand rises, shaking violently, but with more purpose now. The light responds, streaming toward my fingertips where it gathers, condenses, and becomes almost solid. No longer wild energy, but focused intent.
When it releases, it tears through me. A concentrated beam of energy strikes the thread network above us. The strands don’t simply break, they ignite like fuses soaked in oil, burning with cold fire that races along the web. Where thread meets thread,small explosions burst like silent fireworks against the night sky, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
For one breathless moment, the entire pass is lit up in silver-white brilliance, revealing the true extent of the glassback colony. Hundreds of their bodies cling to the walls, convulsing whenever the light hits them, refracting the beams in prismatic bursts. Their clicking changes to high-pitched whines that drill into my skull. They retreat in waves, scrabbling up the cliff faces, leaving glowing trails in their wake.
I collapse forward, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the rocky ground. My body rejects the sensations flooding through it—the phantom taste of toxic fluid, the remembered feeling of exoskeleton shattering between jaws that aren’t mine. My skin feels flayed, hypersensitive to every breeze and touch.
The mist stalker stands over a twitching glassback carcass, its fur matted with luminous red fluid that continues to eat into its hide. It doesn’t whimper or show pain, but I feel the burning as if acid is being poured over my own body.
“They navigate by vibrations through their thread network.” Mira’s voice comes from very far away. "You’ve blinded them, for now."
I remain on my hands and knees, unable to rise. The silver light continues to pulse in erratic waves that match my ragged breathing. The mist stalker limps to my side, pressing against me despite the ichor burning us both.
“I couldn’t—" My voice breaks, barely audible. "I didn’t know how to?—”
Sacha kneels beside me. Fingers touch my chin, tilting my head up until I have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes hold mine, intense and unblinking.
“Your familiar is too tightly bound to your emotional state. It acted on your fear, not your intent.”
I nod weakly, another wave of nausea washing through me. “I couldn’t separate ... what it felt ... from what I felt. It was like drowning in someone else’s pain.”
“That connection can be a strength, but only if you learn to control it instead of letting it control you.” His thumb brushes over my lips, then he reaches down for my hands. “Can you stand?”
“I … I don’t know.” His grip tightens, warm and solid, as he pulls me upright.
My legs buckle immediately, refusing to support my weight. Sacha catches me before I fall, one arm sliding around my waist to hold me against him. For a moment, we’re pressed together, my face buried against his neck, breathing in his scent beneath the sour tang of glassblack poison.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his skin. “I nearly got everyone killed.”
His other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head. “You saved us. That network would have brought the entire colony down on us.”
“But I lost control.”
“You found it when it mattered.” He lowers his head until his lips brush against my ear. “You channeled the power exactly where it needed to go.”
The warmth of his praise spreads through me, but it’s followed immediately by shame.
“Only because you helped me. Without you, I?—”
“We work well together, Mel’shira.” There’s something in his tone that makes me pull back to look at him. His expression is as unreadable as ever, but there’s heat in his eyes that has nothing to do with the battle we just survived.
His head dips, and his lips brush against mine, then his hand drops away.
"We need to move. Before they regroup and return.”
Two fighters retrieve my horse, which had fortunately not run far, but Sacha leads me to his mount instead. His hands span my waist as he lifts me into the saddle, the contact sending a shiver through me. Then he swings up behind me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his chest against my back.
My body feels hollow, scraped raw from the inside. I can’t stop shaking, but now I’m not sure if it’s from the aftermath of terror or from Sacha’s proximity. His arm settles around my waist, holding me steady, and I fight the urge to lean fully back against him.
The mist stalker pads alongside, refusing to dissolve back into light despite my silent pleas. Each time I look at it, I remember the sensations of teeth tearing through alien flesh, and my stomach threatens to rebel again.
I hold myself tense, eyes darting around constantly, while I try to keep some distance between us, but every time the horse steps over uneven ground, I’m pressed more firmly against him. His arm tightens around me, pulling me closer.
