Page 73 of Veinblood
When he takes his last breath, I wrap his body in the bloodied bedsheets and carry him from his quarters. There is a cellar beneath the garrison—a storage space that will serve perfectly for my purposes. I take my time moving each body there, arranging them in neat rows like the organized man Korven always prided himself on being.
Tomorrow, after I’ve spoken to the village elders, I’ll make sure they’re disposed of properly. But tonight, they can stay here, in the cold, damp room that reminds me of the torture chamber where I spent endless hours suspended between life and death.
Stepping back outside, I take a deep breath of clean air, washing the scent of blood and death from my lungs. The village sleeps on, unaware that their garrison no longer exists, that the balance of power in their small community has shifted in ways they cannot yet imagine.
In the morning, I’ll need to convince them that this change serves their interests as much as mine. Three hundred lives depend on the compassion of strangers.
The blacksmith’s sacrifice opened this door, but I am the one who must walk through it.
Chapter Twenty-One
ELLIE
“Not all storms announce themselves with thunder.”
Writings of the Flamevein Oracles
“I needto send for Kalliss and Meren. They will want to know you’ve returned.”
Vorith moves toward the door, and speaks to someone beyond it in tones too low for me to catch. When she returns, another woman follows her, carrying a tray with a pitcher and two cups. Steam rises from it, carrying the familiar scent of the drink that passes for tea here.
“Kalliss lives about an hour’s ride from here. Meren is a little farther away. I’ve sent messengers to their villages. They should be here by early evening.” She pours two drinks, and hands me a cup.
Hours. I have to sit here knowing that two more people who shaped my fate will be coming here. My hands shake slightly as I accept the cup.
“While we wait, tell me about Nyassa. How has she fared allthese years?”
I take a sip of tea, using the time to gather my thoughts. Where do I even begin?
“She worked at a children’s home in Chicago.” I set the cup back down. “I lived there from when I was three until I aged out.” At Vorith’s confused look, I stop. “It’s … If a child has no parents, or any family to look after them they’re put into homes with other families. They call it fostering. But if there aren’t any families to take them, or if they’re simply not wanted, there are group homes, where lots of children like that live together, with adults paid to look after them.”
“I see.”
“Nyassa had a position at the home, and watched over me. But she never told me who she was, or treated me any differently from the other children there. I only discovered her real identity a few days ago.” I explain about what happened at Thornspire, and how the explosion drove us to Chicago. I tell her about meeting Nyassa, and the ritual which brought us back, separating me from Sacha. “I don’t even know if she is here or in Chicago.”
Vorith’s face softens. “That sounds like her. She was worried about what would happen when you arrived in the place we had chosen to send you.”
“She said the crossing pulled her with me. That she didn’tchoose to go.”
“That doesn’t make her dedication any less. She could have tried to find a way back. Instead, she stayed to protect you.”
Hours pass while the conversation turns to the Veinbloods and what happened to them after Sacha was imprisoned. We pause when women bring in food and more tea, none of them stopping to talk and departing as silently as they arrived.
Vorith describes how she and the other two masters searched for families who were hiding from the purges. How every conversation carried risk, and every decision balances survival against hope.
“We lost so many during those years. Families who couldn’t adapt to hiding, and were caught using their powers. Others who tried to fight back instead of becoming invisible. We had to learn the hard way that our powers were not going to aid in our survival.”
She traces patterns on the table surface while she talks, telling me about the challenges they faced. How they had to find places remote enough to avoid regular Authority patrols, but accessible enough to not look like they were hiding anything. The way they lived in constant fear of discovery, and taught people to suppress abilities they’d used openly for generations.
“The hardest part is watching children grow up scared of what they are. Parents who had once celebrated their children’s first manifestations of power now teach them to hide those same gifts. We have tried to preserve as much knowledge as we can, but anything that can be seen or read risks our lives. So most of our heritage has been passed down verbally.”
“How did you decide what to keep and what to abandon?”
“Trial and error. Painful lessons.” Her smile is rueful. “And arguments. So many arguments. Kalliss wanted to strike backimmediately. His visions showed him glimpses of victory, but no path to reach it. He didn’t know if it was a vision of something that would happen in days or years. Meren argued for deeper concealment. He wanted us to move farther into the mountains where no one would find us. I tried to hold us all together.”
“What did you want?”
“Survival. For as many as possible. Even if it meant losing parts of ourselves in the process.”
