Page 57 of Stormvein
I am not whole. But Iamalive …
“His breathing is getting stronger.” Varam’s voice cuts through the darkness.
I surface slowly, dragged reluctantly toward consciousness. Pain returns with awareness. Not the all-consuming agony of before, but a symphony of distinct hurts vying for attention.
I’m breathing without a wet rattle now, although each breath still sends knives of pain between broken ribs. The brand on my chest throbs, but infection no longer spreads from it in poisonous tendrils. The whip marks on my back pull with every slight movement, but they’re no longer the raw, seeping wounds they were under the torturer’s ministrations.
“I think the shadows are fighting the infection.” Ellie’s voice, close by. “Look at the wound in his side. It’s almost closed.”
Their voices fade as I slip back under, while the shadows continue their work.
Time loses meaning, measured only by brief moments of surfacing between stretches of darkness. Sometimes I feel Ellie’s presence, her hand in mine, her voice guiding me back when I drift too far from shore. Sometimes I catch glimpses of Varam’s worried face, of a woman tending my wounds, of a large silvery creature watching from the corner.
When I finally wake fully, the transition is jarring. Pain comes first. No longer mortal, but still insistent, and impossible to ignore. I force my eyes open. Only one responds. The other remains swollen shut from repeated blows by Sereven and his torturer.
Light filters between my eyelashes, showing shadowy movements as hands change bandages.
My vision blurs, focuses, then blurs again as I struggle to orient myself. Stone walls come into view, unfamiliar yet clearly a shelter of some kind. The stone is damp, the air cool … We’re in the mountains, but this isn’t Stonehaven.
How long have I been unconscious?
How did I get here?
My last clear memory is the cage, the convoy, and the approach of death. I recall Sereven’s satisfaction as he watched me being loaded into that metal prison, his promise that Blackvault awaited me. Everything after that exists only in fever dreams and disconnected impressions of pain and darkness.
I reach for my shadows cautiously, fearing they might also have been a dream born of desperate hope. They respond immediately, flowing toward consciousness like loyal creatures greeting their master’s return. Their eagerness is tempered by weakness. They’re present but depleted, their strength going toward rebuilding mine.
“Ellie?” It hurts to speak, but I need to see her face. I need the confirmation that she’s real and not another hallucination. My throat feels raw from screaming, from thirst, from days of silence.
She startles at the sound of my voice, head snapping up from where she was focused on the bandages covering my chest. Her eyes meet mine, and for one unguarded moment, everything she’s feeling shows itself. A relief so intense it borders on pain, exhaustion bone-deep, fear still lingering at the edges, and something else … something I have no right to see, but can’t look away from.
She’s changed since I last saw her at Ashenvale. The silver flecks in her eyes have multiplied, capturing the lantern’s flame like tiny stars. Light pulses beneath her skin in time with her heartbeat, not the chaotic bursts of before but more controlled and purposeful now.
“Sacha?” My name on her lips carries desperate hope. “You’re awake.”
“Tell me.” It’s all I can manage through my damaged throat. But it’s enough for her to understand what I need.
“It’s been four days since we rescued you.” Her voice falters, then steadies. “The Authority is searching the mountains. Theyknow we got you away, but I don’t think they know if you’re alive or dead.”
She falls silent as footsteps approach. I turn my head carefully, the movement sending spikes of pain down my spine. Varam has paused halfway across the chamber, shock coating his features. For a split second, I see the boy I first met, before he became my closest friend, my most trusted commander. He crosses to me in three strides and drops to his knees beside me.
“Sacha.” His voice beaks, revealing everything he won’t say aloud.
Relief. Joy. Disbelief that borders on awe. His eyes, usually so guarded, shine with unshed tears. He believed me dead, and yet here I am, defying death once again. My second impossible return in his lifetime.
I try to piece everything together. The cage, the torture, the journey toward Blackvault, then Ellie’s presence, my shadows returning. But everything between remains dark, lost to fever and near-death.
“Situation?” Each word costs more than I can afford, but information is currency I need more than comfort.
“There are Authority patrols in the mountains.” Varam falls immediately into soldier reporting to commander. “They’ve set checkpoints on all major passes. Our scouts report at least fifty soldiers within a day’s march of here.”
“Stonehaven?”
“Compromised.” His face darkens. “The ambush at Glassfall Gap. Someone betrayed our plans. They knew we’d be there, where we’d strike,whenwe’d strike. We lost two people getting you out.”
Glassfall Gap. Ambush. Two dead. Betrayal.
The words connect to nothing in my memory. They float disconnected from anything I know, pieces of a narrative Ishould be part of but cannot recall. But their meaning is clear enough.
