Page 88 of Veinblood
Not here. Not now.
The last thing anyone needs is me accidentally lighting up the room.
The common hall is buzzing with nervous energy when Kessa and I arrive. Oil lamps flicker along the walls, casting dancing shadows that seem to mirror the tension in the room. Village elders cluster around a central table covered in maps, their faces grave. The three Veinblood masters stand together near the wall. Corwin paces near the door, while five men I don’t recognize stand near him. Beside them are two familiar faces—Jorana and Bessa. They smile at me warmly.
Vorith looks up when we enter.
“Good. You're here.” She straightens, and the buzzing conversations die away as every eye turns toward her. “The settlements have spoken. All seven have agreed to act.”
My heart skips a beat.
“They are sending thirty Veinbloods from each settlement to aid us,” Vorith continues. “Over two hundred people willing to fight.”
The room erupts, voices rising in a mix of excitement and fear. Someone laughs, a short, sharp sound of disbelief. Another person starts crying.
“Quiet!”
When silence falls, Meren steps forward.
“We should start small. Target the Authority supply convoys first and some of the smaller outposts. We need to build our strength gradually before attempting anything major.”
“Attack where they’re weakest,” someone else agrees. “Test our abilities on how they respond. We need to understand what we’re facing before we commit to anything larger.”
Agreement ripples through the crowd. It sounds reasonable. It soundssafe.
But the words hit me wrong. My chest tightens, heat building beneath my ribs as my power responds to my growing horror.
Small attacks. Gradual escalation. They’re talking about announcing their existence to Sereven in a way that will give him time to hunt down every settlement before they can mount a real resistance.
There won’t be a second chance at this. Therecan’tbe.
The power surging through me grows hotter, demanding release. Sparks jump between my fingers, and I surge to my feet before I can stop myself.
“No!” My voice cuts through the discussions. Faces turntoward me. Some skeptical, others curious, a few showing the same fierce determination that drives me forward. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t give them warning that you exist.” My hands press flat against the table. “You don’t test the waters. You don’t give Sereven time to prepare. You take back what belongs to you. You take back Ashenvale.”
The silence that follows is electric. I can practicallyhearminds working, processing what I said.
“The Lirien Spire.” My voice steadies as confidence takes hold. “Isn’t that where the Shadowvein Lords ruled from for generations? The throne room that belongs to Sacha?”
Nods pass through the room. Yes, they remember. Some of them lived through those days, saw the banners change, watched the Authority claim what had never truly belonged to them.
The image forms clearly in my mind—Sacha walking into his ancestral home. His expression when he realizes what we’ve accomplished in his absence, what we’ve reclaimed for him without him even knowing.
“Picture his face when he discovers Ashenvale flying Veinblood banners again.” My voice grows stronger, more certain with every word. “When he realizes his throne room is ready for his return. When he understands that his peopleneverstopped fighting for him!”
The room has gone completely still. Even the air seems to be holding its breath.
“Ashenvale is too well defended,” Meren points out. But there’s something in his eyes now, a spark that wasn’t there before.
“By soldiers who believe you are all dead.” I straighten to face the room. “When did they last face Earthveins who can bring down their walls? Flameveins who can melt their weapons?”
The energy in the room is shifting. I can see it in the way people are leaning forward, in the straightening of shoulders, in the fire beginning to kindle in their eyes.
“They are not prepared for what you can unleash. Theycan’tbe, because they believe you don’t exist. Their entire defense is built on the assumption that Veinbloods are nothing more than a distant memory.”
Jorana steps forward from where she’s been standing near the table. Her expression has shifted from skeptical to thoughtful, and when she speaks, her voice carries the tone of someone reassessing everything.
“If you’re serious about taking Ashenvale, we need more than courage. We need intelligence.”
