Page 45 of Veinblood
I’m on the ground, that much I know. My face is pressed against something so cold it burns my cheek. My head is pounding like someone has taken a hammer to my skull and won’t stop swinging. There is blood on my hands, warm and sticky, but I have no idea how it got there.
Every time I try to focus on something, onanything, the world tilts sideways and threatens to dump me back into unconsciousness.
What happened to me?
There’s a weird taste in my mouth, a combination of copper and bile. I think I must have bitten my tongue at some point. Something is digging into my ribs, but when I try to move, my body refuses to cooperate. My arms feel like they’re made of spaghetti.
Where am I?
Memories come back slowly. Sacha’s hand in mine, our fingers interlaced so tightly I could feel his pulse against my palm. Nyassa explaining about the ritual and how it needed one hundred percent focus. Directing every bit of power I had into my bracelet. Light building between us, starting as a warm glow and growing brighter and hotter, until it felt like staring into the sun.
Then pain. Every atom in my body pulled in different directions while I tried to hold myself together through sheer force of will.
My eyes snap open.
The ritual.
Meridian.
I force myself onto my hands and knees, and try to ignore the crawling sensation under my skin. It feels like electricity with nowhere to go, looking for any excuse to discharge. Instead, I attempt to focus on my surroundings, but it’s too dark to see much of anything. High walls block out most of the sky, leaving only a narrow strip of star-scattered darkness above me.
Have I made it back?Wherein Meridian am I? And more importantly …
Where is Sacha?
I need to get on my feet. It takes a couple of attempts to make my legs behave and get myself upright. I have to lean against the wall and close my eyes against the vertigo making my head spin, and fight against the very real threat of throwing up.
But I need to get my bearings and figure out where I am,ideally without passing out again, so I slowly crack open my eyes, and force myself to focus despite the way everything wants to blur and double. It takes a second or two, before everything comes into focus.
I’m in an alley, dark and narrow, the buildings close enough on either side that I can reach out with both hands and touch them with my fingertips. It’s the kind of space where sound echoes strangely and shadows seem deeper than they should be. Broken crates are stacked against one wall, and the smell of rotting food mingles with smoke and something else—something unpleasant that makes me want to gag.
There’s no sign of anyone else. Just me, with bleeding palms, a lump on the back of my head, what might be a concussion, and bruised ribs. But I can’t think about that right now. I need to find Sacha and Nyassa.
I reach deep inside searching for the bond between us, and relief courses through me when I find it. It’s there, distant but unmistakably present. That means he’s alive, but where is he?
Is he hurt? Is he as disoriented as I am?
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know whereheis. I have no idea if Nyassa is here or if she remained stuck on Earth.
As my thoughts spiral, silver light flickers across my skin, my power responding to my confusion and growing fear. Static electricity builds in the air around me, sparks surge outward in crackling arcs that dance between my fingers.
Oh no.
Storm clouds gather above my head with unnaturalspeed, heaving with the promise of lightning and rain. Thunder rumbles, echoing off the narrow alley walls.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I’m affecting the weather just by being scared, confused, and overwhelmed. The power that Sacha helped me learn to control is slipping out, responding to the emotions I can’t suppress.
Focus. Remember what he taught you.
I force my breathing to slow, reaching desperately for the techniques he showed me, and combine it with the breathing exercises Telren taught.
Count to four. Hold for four. Release for eight.
Don’t fight it. Don’t try to suppress it. Accept it. Acknowledge it. Let it flow instead of forcing it to remain still.
Slowly …reluctantly… the lightning retreats and the storm overhead starts to settle. The clouds don’t disappear, but theydostop churning. The wind dies down to a more natural breeze, and the sharp smell of electricity in the air fades to levels that won’t make nearby objects spark.
