Page 7 of Veinblood
I close my eyes and focus on the tenuous connection that formed when our powers combined at Thornspire.
There!
A pulse of energy, distant but unmistakable. Ellie’s presence. She isn’t close, not within my immediate reach, yet not so distant that I fear she might be in another part of this realm entirely. The connection pulls northwest from my current position, giving me a compass point in this labyrinth of metal and glass.
I have to locate her, then discover how to return to Meridian. Once there, I need to return to Mira and Varam, and prepare for the Authority assault on Stonehaven … unless it has already begun.
The thought of Stonehaven under siege while we’re stranded here heightens the urgency. Every moment spent in this foreign realm is time stolen from defending my people. Yet rushing without preparation will only ensure failure on all fronts.
The raven takes shape above my shoulder briefly, its reflection ghostlike in the glass of the window, before dissolving back against my skin.
I settle against the wall where I can watch both the door and the window. My body aches from the impact of landing here, and despite my desire to go back out there and find Ellie now, I need to rest first. The cold alone could kill me if I’m not careful.
Hours pass with agonizing slowness. I keep going back tothe window and looking down at the activity below. The snow continues to fall, heavier now, coating everything in white that is driving people off the thoroughfares and into the warmth of buildings. The strange carriages become less frequent, their routes adjusting to accommodate the weather. The harsh lights continue their unblinking vigil, but the world beyond grows quieter as fewer people brave the storm.
When the streets finally empty, and the building around me falls mostly silent, restlessness drives me to move. Common sense argues for remaining in this secure position until morning, but darkness has always served me better than light. Now that the constant noise has diminished, I’ll be able to hear approaching threats.
I cross the room, removing the Voidcraft guards I’ve put into place, open the door and step back into the passageway leading to the stairwell. The building is still active, despite the lateness of the hour. Voices echo from distant rooms, and that odd hum still fills the air. I stay close to the walls where the shadows gather, and descend to the ground level through routes that avoid the areas where workers continue their mysterious tasks.
The exit I choose opens into a narrow space behind the main building, partially sheltered from both the weather and casual observation. Snow has accumulated here, creating drifts that muffle sound and obscure footprints. I examine the area carefully before emerging, checking for guards, surveillance, any sign that my presence might be detected or recorded.
The cold is more intense than earlier. I turn up the collar on my long-coat, and bury my hands into the pockets, then step away from the building, adopting the posture I've observed among the local population—head slightly down, shoulders hunched against the cold, pace steady but unhurried. Becoming invisible by conforming rather than a shadow. It’s a different kind of stealth, but just as effective.
I take a moment to orient myself based on the faint pull of the connection to Ellie. She remains somewhere to the northwest, the distance unchanged since my last check. Either she's found shelter as I have, or she's moving in the same general direction I am, maintaining the gap between us.
Raucous laughter draws my attention to a group of men approaching, their movements unsteady, voices raised in celebration or argument. I cross to the opposite side of the thoroughfare before they can notice me, hoping to avoid confrontation. They pass without incident, focused on their own affairs, oblivious to the stranger observing them from the shadows.
Waiting until they disappear around a corner, I set off in the direction the connection draws me. The snow falls heavier with each step, covering the strange surface of the streets and walkways with white that makes footing treacherous. My boots leave clear prints that fill almost immediately with fresh snow, erasing my passage as effectively as any magic. The occasional strange carriage passes, moving more slowly now, their lights cutting through the storm like searching eyes.
A new structure rises ahead with elevated pathways, carrying larger carriages that move at greater speeds along routes suspended high above the ground. Their rumbling is much louder and creates vibrations I can feel through the soles of my feet. The few people on the streets pay no attention to them at all.
I continue forward, into the night, following the pull toward Ellie, and eyeing the beasts as they travel overhead, while the landscape around me changes. Buildings become smaller, are grouped differently, many dark while others blaze with lights that flash and change color in patterns that serve no purpose I can identify.
The faint connection to Ellie grows stronger with each step. She exists in this world, somewhere ahead, perhaps conducting her own search, or adapting to circumstances as I am.
I will not rest until I find her. Tonight. Tomorrow. However long it takes. Iwillfind her, and then find our way back to Meridian.
Chapter Three
ELLIE
“Power divided against itself creates hunger that spans worlds.”
Writings of the Veinblood Masters
The world crashesback into existence around me. Cold bites through my clothes, wetness soaking through to my knees. The air is wrong, leaving a sharp, metallic, taste in my mouth. It’s thick with something acrid that makes my nose sting. Something familiar but …what is that smell?
The world tilts sideways. Bile burns up my throat. My palms slam against something rough and cold as I try to brace myself from the impact of falling.
One second, I was in Thornspire Keep, my hand locked with Sacha’s as our combined power surged toward Sereven’s crystal. Then blinding light exploded outward in waves, tearing through the chamber with violent force.
Now I'm kneeling on rough stone, the texture familiar beneath my palms. White flakes drift down around me.
“Miss? Miss, are you hurt?” The voice cuts through the roaring in my ears—human and concerned.
The words sound strange after … after …
My mind struggles to process what I’m hearing. The words sound wrong somehow. Where are the lilting cadences I’ve become used to?
