Page 145 of Veinblood
Chapter Thirty-Nine
SACHA
“The storm's eye is not empty. It is where transformation gathers its strength.”
Writings of the Veinblood Masters
Steam risesfrom the bodies scattered across the path, and the acrid smell of burned flesh fills the night air. My ears are still ringing from the thunder that cracked overhead, and the afterimage of lightning bolts burns behind my eyelids. Shadows still coil around my fingers, unneeded now because Ellie reacted before I could.
Twenty-four men, dead in seconds.
Mira dismounts her horse from my left, and crosses to the bodies, crouching to search them for anything that might be useful. Our other fighters scan the surrounding darkness for signs that anyone might have witnessed Ellie's display.
My attention, however, remains fixed on Ellie herself.
She’s still kneeling beside the path, her body convulsing as she vomits onto the grass. Sparks crackle around her with every ragged breath she takes, and her shoulders are shaking. I’m notsure if the tremors are from the aftereffects of channeling her power or from the horror of what she’s just done.
It could even be both.
I've seen soldiers break after their first real battle, watched hardened fighters crumble when they realized what they'd become. But this is different. This is Ellie—the woman who looked at me without fear even when she should have run. Now she kneels beside the path, silver light flickering beneath her skin like trapped fire.
Dismounting, I walk over to her. Behind us, the ground is blackened where she stood when the power struck, vegetation burned away by the energy that erupted from her body. The smell of fire clings to everything—her clothes, her hair, the very air around her. When I reach for her shoulder, sparks jump between us, making my fingertips tingle.
“Ellie.” My voice is soft.
She doesn’t look up. Another wave of vomiting wracks her body, and she leans forward, pressing her hands flat against the earth.
“Mel’shira.” I drop to one knee beside her.
This time she lifts her head. Her eyes are wild, pupils dilated, the silver flecks so bright they swallow the brown of her irises entirely. The magic still courses through her, visible in the way she’s shaking, in the erratic pulse of light along her arms, and in the way the air around her seems to shimmer.
“I killed them all.” The words are barely audible. “All of them. In seconds.”
“You stopped them from killing us.”
“I know. They deserved to die. I’m glad they’re dead.”
She draws in a shuddering breath, but the way her face twists with self-loathing tells me everything about the war raging inside her head.
“I enjoyed it. When the lightning struck and they all fell? I felt powerful. In control. And … and there was a moment when I wanted more of them to come, just so I could do it again.” Her head drops, hair falling forward to shield her face. “Sereven told me my power was that of someone who should command … Tonight, I understood what he meant.”
Static builds in the air around us, making my hair lift and stand on end. Sparks jump between her fingers, the grass beneath her palms beginning to smoke. The scent of it burning mingles with the lingering odor of charred flesh.
“Ellie.” I say her name firmly. “You need to regain control of your emotions.”
Her breathing turns more erratic, becomes shorter, panicked. Silver light races up her arms. The temperature around us drops, thunder rumbling in the distance.
I know this feeling—when magic becomes a wildfire that feeds on itself until it consumes everything in its path. I've felt it with my own shadows, the intoxicating rush of letting darkness loose without restraint. The difference is that I learned control through decades of discipline.
“Look at me.” I reach out and cup her face between my palms, forcing her wild gaze to focus on mine. Sparks danceacross my skin where I touch her, but I don’t pull away. “Right now.Lookat me. Listen to me.”
Thunder crashes somewhere above our heads. For a moment I fear she might lash out, but then her gaze locks onto mine.
“That’s it, Mel’shira.” I keep my voice low and steady, a tone I’ve used to calm spooked horses or wounded soldiers on the edge of panic. “Breathe with me now. In through your nose. Hold. Out through your mouth. Follow my breathing.”
She draws in a shaky breath, then another. The glow dims slightly and the thunder fades. Her hands come up to cover mine, her fingers icy cold against my skin.
“Your magic responded to protect us,” I say once her breathing steadies. “You saved our lives. The fact that part of you found satisfaction in eliminating a threat doesn’t make you a monster, Mel’shira.”
