Page 125 of The Ascended
His hand moved unconsciously to his neck, where a jagged silver scar traced across his bronze skin.
"Divine children can be quite creative in their cruelty," he said with forced lightness. "Especially when they believe their actions have no consequences."
Horror bloomed in my chest. "They hurt you."
"They taught me," he corrected, his voice cold. "They taught me that power is the only language the divine truly respect. That weakness will always be exploited."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "So you made yourself untouchable."
"I did more than that, starling." His voice dropped lower, almost confessional. "I collected knowledge. Leverage. My father collects souls; I collect secrets."
The admission illuminated so much about him—his library, hisobservation, his careful attention to details others might miss. Even the way he had extracted information from the Lightbringer.
"When I entered the Trials, I knew every weakness, every fear, every secret shame of those who had tormented me—now mentors for a new batch of mortals." Dark satisfaction flickered across his face.
"That's why they tried to have you killed during the Trials," I realized. "Miria told me about it."
He nodded once. "They feared what I knew. What I might do with that knowledge."
"Oh, I’d imagine."
"Secrets," he continued, speaking more to himself than to me now. "Are the only currency I've ever truly controlled."
"Is that what I am to you?" I asked, the question burning in my throat. "My secret—just another item in your collection? Another weapon?"
His gaze fluttered to meet mine. “It was supposed to be," he admitted. "That was the plan."
The honesty stung more than a lie would have. At least he wasn't pretending.
"And now?" I pressed, unable to stop myself.
He didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice had changed, carrying an undercurrent of sadness. "Now I find myself in the unprecedented position of wanting to protect your secret rather than exploit it."
"You didn't seem particularly protective earlier today," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "When you threatened everything I care about."
He rubbed at the back of his neck, a crease pulling between his brows. "I was afraid."
"You?" The disbelief in my voice was evident. "The Prince of Death, afraid?"
"Yes, me." He stood in a single fluid motion, moving to the fountain's edge. Water rippled as he dipped his fingersinto its dark surface, disturbing the perfect reflection of the night sky. "What I learned today—what you overheard—it changes… things. Things you can’t begin to understand." He trailed off, shoulders tensing. "I reacted poorly."
"You threatened everyone I love," I repeated, the memory still raw. "You made me feel..."
Helpless. Terrified.
"I did." He faced me directly, no evasion in his gaze. "And I'm sorry for that. It’s become an instinctual reaction for me, I think."
The apology stunned me into silence.I’m sorry. Two simple words that were exceedingly rare coming from those beautiful lips.
Don't trust this, the wary part of me insisted.It's another manipulation. Another trick.
But the raw sincerity in his expression made that warning harder to believe.
"Everything I've done has been to keep you alive, starling."
"Is that how you justify it?" I asked, rising to my feet. "All the walls, all the threats, all the coldness? As necessary evils?"
"I don't justify it," he replied, his voice dropping. "I live with it. As I've lived with everything else."
