Page 117 of The Ascended
He turned on me then, and I had to brace myself to avoid colliding with his chest.
“You were never here.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “You never heard any of this conversation. You never saw that prison.”
He stepped forward, forcing me back until my shoulders hit cold stone. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as the surrounding air grew thick with his power.
“Do you understand me, Thais? If anyone—anyone—suspects you have this knowledge, the consequences will reach far beyond your insignificant life.”
His hand shot out, gripping my jaw with fingers that felt like iron bands. “Your brother. Your village. Every soul you’ve ever cared about. I can make eternity very, very long for all of them.”
I tried to swallow, but his grip made it impossible. Cold terror slithered down my spine as I realized I was seeing the side of him that the damned witnessed—merciless, absolute, a law unto himself.
“This isn’t a game.” His face was inches from mine now, his breath ghosting across my skin. “This isn’t one of our little sparring matches where you get to push back. This is me telling you that there are forces at work that would obliterate you without thought if they knew you’d heard even a whisper of what was said today.”
He released my jaw but didn’t step back. “So, I’ll ask you once more, with perfect clarity: Do. You. Understand.”
It wasn’t a question. Not really. It was a command, a binding, a leash pulled tight.
“Yes,” I managed, hating how small my voice sounded.
“Good.” He straightened, adjusting his cuffs. “Then we’ll speak no more of it.”
He turned and continued walking as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just threatened everything I cared about. As if he hadn’t just shown me exactly who he was.
The hand of death itself.
And I followed, because what choice did I have?
A lift deposited us to the highest tier of the city, where a dark palace dominated the skyline—its spires twisting toward crimson.
I followed him inside, my jaw still burning from where his fingers had gripped it. My heart hammered against my ribs.
This was the pattern, wasn’t it? Every single time I thought I glimpsed a trace of compassion beneath that cold exterior, he would reveal his true nature. The predator. The god. The monster.
On his ship, he’d been almost gentle, sharing glimpses of his mortal years, guiding my hands on the wheel with unexpected patience. In Nyxis’s shop, I’d seen genuine warmth transform his face, watched him submit to her affection without protest. For those few moments, I’d almost believed there was something more to him than the callous deity.
What a fool I was.
Every crack in his armor, every glimpse of vulnerability—they were just echoes of who he might have once been. The ghost of a person who died a decade ago when he ascended.
And somehow, despite knowing better, I kept reaching for that ghost.
I touched my throat where his grip had burned through me, remembering how his eyes had gone cold. That was the real Xül. And I needed to remember that.
No more, I promised myself, straightening my shoulders as I followed him through a dimly lit corridor. No more hoping for redemption. No more letting those brief moments of connection matter.
He was death itself, and I was just a pawn he’d somehow stumbled upon.
Massive obsidian doors swung open before us, requiring multiple attendants to move their immense weight. Beyond lay a massive dark hall with shadows that seemed alive, and a ceiling so high it disappeared into darkness.
And at the end, two thrones.
Through my lashes, I saw the Aesymar of Death and his mortal wife. Breath clogged in my throat as I noticed their gaze shift from their son to me.
“So,” Morthus said finally, his voice carrying through the chamber like distant thunder. “The wielder of stars has come to the city of shadows.”
Chapter 28
The Court of Death
