Page 45 of Shadowvein

But that’s something to think about later.

“We should reach the first foothills by late afternoon. We can set up shelter before the light fails.”

The sandstriders keep a steady pace, gliding over the hardening ground. Overhead, the shadow-canopy holds, diffusing the sun’s reach.

The desert floor rises in steady swells, scattered boulders giving way to layered rock formations. Dry brush and thorned trees beginto appear, sparse but stubborn, clinging to this band of transition between sand and mountain.

My senses detect water before any visual evidence appears. It comes as a subtle change in the air, and the way shadows fall across the ground. The sandstriders sense it too, their pace quickening without prompting. We reach the top of a slight rise, and the valley unfolds below us, nestled between the first proper foothills. A ribbon of green cuts through the barren expanse, marking the water’s path, a lifeline in a world that offers few mercies.

The stream runs narrow but clean, threading a line of growth between the rocks. Not the lush oasis we left this morning, but it offers what we need most. Fresh water, and somewhere to stop for the night. The animals move immediately to drink, lowering their long necks until their noses dip into the water.

Ellie dismounts with care, obviously stiff from the day’s ride, and holds the reins loosely in one hand as she surveys the valley.

“We’ll stop here for the night. The ground ahead is better approached with full daylight.” I secure the sandstriders while I speak, making sure they can reach both water and the vegetation along the stream’s bank.

A natural alcove offers partial shelter beneath an overhang of stone. I move to it and draw shadows in close, layering darkness to build the walls. It responds, but still without the ease I should command. I know why. I only need to remain patient for a little longer.

Inside the shelter, I gather shadow, shaping another bed for Ellie,along with another sphere of compressed warmth to keep the chill at bay through the night.

“Eat, then rest.” I turn to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I won’t be far.” I pause, then give her something more. “I spent a long time without being able to see the sky.”

“Ahh, yes. Of course.” Her voice is soft. She thinks she’s learned something new about me.

Outside, the sunset sinks behind the upper peaks. Shadows lengthen across the slopes, and the air begins to cool. With night falling, the emptiness inside me stirs, no longer dormant but insistent. The time has come to change that.

But not here. Not within sight of our camp. Not in front of a witness. This is something that needs privacy.

I move deeper into the foothills, following a narrow game trail that winds between the rocks. With each step, the pull strengthens, guiding me toward a small box canyon cut into the hillside, hidden from view and already dark. The air still holds the day’s warmth, but the light has almost entirely gone.

Perfect. Secluded.Hidden.

I reach the center of the canyon as the sun sinks behind the peaks. The last of the light drains from the sky, and the air sharpens with oncoming cold. Overhead, stars emerge one by one, distant and unblinking.

The change builds before it arrives. Not through warmth or sound, but a pressure rising in my blood, behind my eyes, somewhere beneath thought. My bones know what’s coming before my mind forms the words.

The Authority severed us long ago. But not completely, as I feared. Only death could do that. And I did not die. What they fractured, time hasn’t erased. Now, with the binding shattered, what was divided begins to return.

My breath catches as all nerve endings fire into life, but it isn’t in pain. It’s recognition.

The ground darkens around me, emerging from within, from something deeper than ordinary shadow. No cast light. No borrowed shape. Entirely mine. It bleeds outward from my boots, tendrils reaching across stone and dust, reshaping the light as they move. The connection is imperfect. Almost hesitant. But it’s there.

I kneel and place one hand flat against the ground, closing my eyes, and opening myself to the night.

“Find me.” The words don’t travel through air, but through darkness itself, vibrating along pathways only shadow can touch.

Pain and anticipation twist behind my ribs, a knot I’ve held in place longer than memory. I throw my arms wide, fingers splayed toward the sky. The motion unseats something buried. The call—not in voice alone, but in breath, blood, the pause between each heartbeat.

“Return to me.” The words tear loose, not a command but a plea. Primal. Raw. The wounded cry of a being too long incomplete. My voice cracks on the final syllable, decades of enforced solitude distilled into three words.

For too long, I’ve been half of what I was. Broken. Diminished. The Authority took more than my freedom whenthey sealed me inside that tower. They severed me from the essence that made me whole.

That made me who I am.

The stars above seem to shudder in response. The slight breeze drops. The darkness deepens. The very air grows dense with anticipation, as though the world itself is holding its breath.

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