Page 94 of Veinblood
“Varam, take six fighters north. Stay in the tree line until you can circle around and block the northern pass. Mira, take the eastern approach.”
Both nod and begin moving their fighters into position. I wait with the remaining fighters until the shadows swallow them before leading my group toward the south—the widest path, the one desperate men would choose if they needed to flee quickly.
My raven circles overhead, sending back images of Varam and Mira reaching their positions. The soldiers below remain unaware that death watches them from three directions.
When everyone is in place, I send shadows flowing down into the valley. They pour into the camp, snuffing out the fire and plunging the soldiers into darkness. Shouts of confusion reach us as men fumble for weapons they can’t see.
The slaughter begins immediately. Varam’s group strikes first, blades finding throats before their owners can cry out. Mira’s fighters close in from the east. Some try to flee, but we’re prepared for that and cut them down. Others attempt to rally, but Mira's and Varam's blades make short work of them.
I’m moving down the southern slope when desperation crashes through the bond.
The emotion drowns my awareness of everything around me. Panic, determination, and underneath it all a kind of desperate resolve. It tears through my consciousness.
A sword blade drives deep into my shoulder before I can avoid it, punching through leather and into muscle. Pain flares, but it feels distant compared to the chaos in my mind. I dodge sideways, too slow, too distracted, and the soldier’s follow-up strike opens a line of fire across my forearm.
Control. Focus. This is what kills you—not the blade, but the distraction.
But controlling the emotions battering through me is like trying to contain a flood with bare hands. Her emotions pour through every barrier I have, overwhelming the discipline that’s kept me alive.
The soldier presses his advantage, driving me back. And just as quickly as it starts, the distraction disappears. My shadowblade takes his head cleanly.
Varam appears beside me as the last enemy falls, his eyes taking in the blood seeping through my coat.
“You're wounded.”
“It's nothing.” I don't tell him that Ellie's emotions almost cost me my life.
We drag the bodies into the forest and cover them with stones and fallen timber. Their weapons are distributed among our fighters. Every movement sends fresh pain through my shoulder. The wound is deeper than I admitted to Varam, not that it matters. It’s manageable and won’t kill me.
We finally reach Greenvale sometime after midnight. The village is silent, Stonehaven and Millhaven’s people settled for the night in makeshift shelters.
Greenvale has absorbed another crisis, another burden. Ishould feel satisfaction at eliminating the immediate threat, at protecting these people who chose to shelter us. Instead, I find myself at the edge of the settlement, staring northwest into the darkness.
Dawn finds me still there, unable to rest, unable to think of anything except what kind of danger Ellie is in.
“You haven’t moved in hours.” Varam joins me just as dawn turns the sky pink. He settles beside me on the fallen log I’ve claimed as a watch post, his own eyes following my gaze to the northwest. “When did you last sleep?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. You’re wounded. You haven’t rested properly in days. Even you have limits.”
“Something is wrong.”
The connection between us pulses with residual anxiety, a constant low-level distress that makes it impossible to ignore.
“The emotions I’m feeling from her are stronger than they’ve ever been.”
“You want to go to her.”
The simple statement exposes everything I've been avoiding. I turn to face my friend.
“Every instinct tells me I need to find her. But these people depend on our protection.”
“Do they?” Varam’s voice is quiet. “You've spent so long carrying everyone else’s survival that you can't see they've grown stronger. Look at what happened yesterday. The villagersorganized aid without panic. They didn't flee when they learned about Millhaven's fate.”
“That doesn't mean they can survive without us.”
“Maybe not. But they're not helpless children waiting for rescue either.” He pauses, studying my profile. “The question you need to ask yourself is whether you are staying because they truly need you, or because duty feels safer than admitting you need her?”
