Page 109 of Veinblood
“Ellie, we’ve won the city. Don’t throw that victory away by chasing a wounded animal into a trap.”
My fingers clench into fists, fury warring with logic. I want to argue, to insist I can handle whatever he throws at me, but the rational part of my mind knows Corwin is protecting me from my own anger. Sereven wouldn’t run without a plan, and that plan likely involves separating me from anyone who could help.
And he’s right about the exhaustion. Now that the adrenaline is fading, I can feel the true cost of what I just did. My legs are shaking, my head pounding, and there’s an empty hole where Sacha’s power flowed alongside mine.
The memory of merging our powers is incredible, but the price of channeling that much energy across such distance is fast becoming clear.
I lean against Corwin’s side, needing the support.
“We won? We really won?”
“We have the city. Ashenvale is ours.”
Ashenvale—the Authority’s symbol of control—is in Veinblood hands again for the first time in thirty years.
“The Lirien Spire is clear.” Jorana joins us. “The commanders inside fled once they saw Veinbloods use their power. The Spire’s servants rose up and joined the fight.” A smile splits her face.
My eyes go to the Spire, where it rises up, still beautiful but marked by the violence that happened around it. I want to see inside. I want to see where Sacha’s family ruled from before betrayal tore everything apart. I want to see the symbolic heart of what we’re fighting to restore.
“Is it safe to go inside?”
“It’s probably the safest place in the entire city right now,” Jorana says.
“I want to see it.”
I lean heavily on Corwin and we make our way toward the Spire’s entrance. The battle with Sereven has left me drained, but not broken. If anything, discovering what I’m capable of has filled me with new purpose.
Two Veinwardens stand at the Spire’s doors. They nod as we approach, and step aside to let us through. We climb steps that spiral upward, reminding me of the tower where I first met Sacha. Corwin and Jorana lead me along a hallway and stop outside a set of double doors.
“This used to be the throne room.” Jorana’s voice is hushed. She steps forward and opens them.
The doors open onto a chamber with high vaulted ceilings and tall arched windows that offer views of the city below. The black marble floor is inlaid with silver, and Authority banners line the walls.
“Take them down.” My voice is harsh as I point toward one of the banners. “Burn them.”
I step deeper into the room, my eyes locked on the seat at the far end of the room.
Carved from shadowstone, the throne rises from the floor. I move slowly toward it, my eyes tracing over the curves and angles. The craftsmanship is extraordinary. A design that suggests power held in check, rather than displayed aggressively.
This is where Sacha should be sitting. Where his family ruled for generations. And where he’ll sit again, when he arrives to discover what we’ve done.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Vorith’s voice sounds from behind me and I turn to look at her.
“Did Kalliss’s visions show this? Did he see our victory?”
“He saw versions where we won, yes. But this is only one battle, Ellie. The war is far from over.”
Her words send my gaze to one of the windows. Smoke is visible in the distance, rising over the city.
“Is there still fighting?”
“There is, but it’s slowing down now. Most Authority soldiers have fled, been defeated or have surrendered.”
Footsteps echo in the hallway outside, and then a Veinwarden, face smeared with blood hurries inside, two women behind him carrying something bundled in dark cloth.
“We have these.” One of the women steps forward, unwrapping her bundle to reveal thick black fabric, with a silver-threaded raven at the center. “They were supposed to be burned years ago, but we kept them. In hope that this day would come.”
“Raise them. See if there are others. Cover every tower, every gate, every place where Authority symbols used to hang. Let the world see that the Vareth’el has returned.”
