Page 147 of The Ascended
Every Legend and blessed contestant looked at us now, their gazes burning with a mixture of fear, resentment, and calculation.We had made enemies today—powerful ones. Even if we made it to ascension, we would forever have targets on our backs.
But as my eyes locked on Olinthar's perfect face, I found that I didn't care. Let them come for me—whenever, however they chose. As long as I had the chance to end the life of the monster standing before us. I saw it all then. Sulien's blood on sand. My mother's fading portrait. The taste of ash and loss and twenty-six years of hiding—it all erupted through my veins.
I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste copper, using pain to anchor myself. Each beat of my heart seemed to pulse with starlight and vengeance, the twin forces now indistinguishable from each other.
I would see Olinthar dead if it was the last thing I ever did.
As the Aesymar began portaling back to their respective domains, Xül’s hand wrapped around my wrist.
“It’s time to go, Thais.” His voice was stern. “There’s something I need to show you.”
“Where are we going?”
“A place that doesn’t exist on any maps.”
Chapter 34
Thatcher
I'd beento Sundralis before, but never escorted by Olinthar himself. I’d never even been in the same room with him.
The portal deposited us at the grand entrance to the Palace of Light, its crystal spires reaching impossibly high into a sky so perfectly blue it hurt to look at. Sundralis existed in perpetual golden daylight, every surface reflecting the never-setting sun. Not a single shadow existed here.
My jaw ached from forcing a smile, from burying the raw hatred that threatened to swallow me whole. This mask was the hardest I'd ever had to wear.
Olinthar walked ahead of Chavore and me, golden light cascading from his shoulders like a cloak. From behind, he looked almost normal—if you ignored the subtle glow that emanated from beneath his skin.
My heart still pounded. He’d intervened. Negotiated with Sylphia and Thalor after what I did in the archives.
Why? What game was he playing? Mercy didn't seem like the right answer.
"Thatcher Morvaren," he said, turning suddenly. His voicecarried across the breeze. "Would you join me for a turn about the gardens? I find the spring blossoms particularly restorative."
Chavore stepped forward automatically.
"Not this time, my son." Olinthar placed a hand on Chavore's shoulder. "I'd like to speak with your mentee privately. There are matters I wish to discuss."
Matters. The word was acid in my gut. Did he know who I really was? Whowewere? The King of Gods certainly wouldn't want that secret getting out—the great and perfect Olinthar, father to half-blood abominations born of a mortal woman he'd violated and abandoned. It would undermine everything he'd built, the perfect order he so valued.
Was that why he wanted me alone? To confirm his suspicions? To eliminate the evidence of his crime?
Chavore's expression shifted, eagerness transforming into restraint. "Of course, Father. I'll wait at the pavilion."
And just like that, I was alone with the architect of my nightmares.
What was I supposed to do? Refuse the King of Gods? Tell him I'd rather swallow a blade than walk beside him through his perfect gardens?
Instead, I bowed. "I'd be honored, my lord."
We walked in silence at first, following a path of white stone that wound between flowering trees. Everything in Sundralis was controlled, ordered, immaculate.
The sun pressed down from directly overhead, a weight rather than a warmth. I was no stranger to sunlight, I'd spent entire days on fishing boats under its glare. But this was different. Oppressive.
"You've performed impressively during the Trials," Olinthar said finally, his voice carrying that strange musical quality that made my skin crawl. "Chavore speaks highly of your progress."
I molded my features into grateful humility. "Thank you, my lord. I'm fortunate to have been chosen by him."
"Fortunate indeed." He gestured toward a giant fountain where water gleamed. "What do you think of Sundralis, Thatcher?"
