Page 168 of Veinblood
“You nearly died.” Mira’s voice is sharp. “Your skull cracked against stone. You can lean on me or I can drag you, but you are not walking.” She looks at me. “Andyou…”
“I will go slowly.”
My eyes go to Sacha, who has lifted his arms, calling shadows to him. They flow from every direction, wrapping around Sereven and Lisandra’s bodies, lifting them. Sacha doesn’t look at either of them, turning away to stride toward the passage we originally entered through. Was it only a short time ago? It seems like days. He pauses at the opening and turns.
“Ellie.” His voice is soft, and he holds out a hand.
I move forward and take his hand. The contact sends a pulse of warmth through our bond, and it steadies me more than anything else could have. Varam and Mira are behind us, followed by the two bodies, cradled by shadows.
We retrace our steps along the passages, in the direction the rest of our group went. My legs ache after the first hundred steps, after two hundred they’re like lead weights, and by five hundred, I can barely drag myself forward. The healing has drained me more than I realized. Each step requires conscious effort, and my breathing comes in short gasps.
Sacha scoops me up into his arms without breaking his stride,and I’m too tired to fight him about it. Behind us, Varam leans heavily against Mira, and we continue our slow way forward.
The sounds of the battle grow steadily louder as we get closer to the surface. Steel ringing against steel, voices raised in pain, fury and desperation. The war continues above us while we fought our own battle below.
Light appears ahead. Real sunlight, not the eerie glow of the crystal. The passage opens onto a wide ledge overlooking Blackvault's main courtyard. The air carries the smell of smoke and blood, and the sight that greets us drives the breath from my lungs.
Chaos has consumed the space below. Our people are fighting Authority soldiers in clustered battles that shift and swirl without clear boundaries. Bodies cover the ground between the living, some wearing crimson, others in leather and cloth. Blood fills the spaces between.
What strikes me most isn't the violence. It's how small it all looks from up here. After everything we've been through, after finding Lisandra’s body, the fight using power and sword, Sereven's death and Sacha's grief, watching this battle feels like watching the final act of a play whose ending I already know.
I see Meren, earth responding to his will as he reshapes the battlefield moment by moment. Stone barriers rise to shelter our fighters while jagged spears erupt beneath enemy feet. His face shows the intense focus required to balance creation and destruction.
Kalliss commands a charge near the fortress's eastern wall,flames wreathing his hands as he burns through Authority shields. Fire follows his gestures, seeking weak points in armor, burning soldiers alive before they can scramble free of breastplates. The heat from his attacks reaches even our elevated position, making the air shimmer.
Vorith flows across the battlefield like wind given form, appearing behind enemy lines to strike before dissolving back into invisibility. Her speed lets her travel faster than human eyes can follow, each materialization marked by another Authority soldier collapsing with shock frozen on their face.
Nyassa controls the western approach with water that bends to laws she writes in the moment. Rain becomes ice as it falls. Moisture drawn from the very air blinds enemies at crucial moments. Her power moves like deadly choreography, beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
Authority soldiers fight with the fury of cornered animals who understand their cage is closing. They've formed defensive squares bristling with spears, creating islands of resistance that our people are focused on breaking.
At the center of the largest formation stands Commander Drayeth. Fresh dents mark his breastplate where weapons have found their mark but haven’t penetrated deep enough to wound him. His sword drips with blood that could belong to any of the bodies scattered nearby, and his voice carries across the courtyard despite the surrounding din, rallying troops who must know they're fighting a losing battle.
“Hold your positions! The High Commander's orders stand!”
The irony might be tragic if it weren't so futile. His High Commander lies dead in shadow's embrace, carried by the brother who ended his reign.
“I should be down there,” Varam says weakly. He's leaning against the wall, his face still pale, but his eyes track the battle with professional interest.
“You should be resting. When I healed Sacha, his shadows helped. You didn’t have that, so I had to draw on your strength.” The healing cost Varam as much as it cost me. His recovery will take time, and pushing himself now could undo everything I've done.
“We end this now.” Sacha’s voice is crisp, his eyes on the chaos below.
He sets me down carefully, then steps forward until he stands at the ledge's edge, and the shadows still cradling his brother's body move with him. The sunlight catches on the bloodstains on his clothes, the exhaustion etched into his features, but his bearing is unmistakably regal. This is the High Prince of Meridian, not the man who killed his brother.
“See me.” Although he doesn’t shout, his voice reaches every single person below us.
One by one people turn. A Veinwarden points upward. More faces turn toward our position. The sound of clashing weapons begins to fade as the battle slows, then stops entirely. Everyone—friend and foe alike—stares up at us.
Sacha raises his arms, and the shadows holding Sereven rise with them, displaying the body of the Authority High Commander.
Authority soldiers see their leader’s lifeless form. Our people see their High Prince.
“Your High Commander is dead. Your chain of command has been broken. Lay down your weapons, or Blackvault will be your tomb.”
Commander Drayeth’s face drains of color as he stares up at him. His expression cycles through disbelief, horror, and finally desperate rage. For several heartbeats he stands completely motionless, as though he’s struggling to process information that contradicts everything he believes.
“High Commander Sereven cannot be defeated. He commands the Authority of law itself. He serves the greater order that will not be denied!”
