Page 15 of The Ascended
A few people groaned good-naturedly. "Again?" someone called out.
My stomach clenched. Not this one. Not tonight.
"It's the best one," Dorna shot back. "Besides, some of you young ones haven't heard it told properly."
I caught Thatcher's eye across the cave and saw my own discomfortreflected there. Sulien had gone very still beside the fire, his knuckles white around his cup.
She cleared her throat and launched into it, her voice taking on the cadence she reserved for the most dramatic stories. "You all know how it began—Morthus, Aesymar of death and King of Draknavor. Cold as winter stone, implacable as the tide. For millennia, he ruled his domain without passion, without mercy, without love."
"But the heart, even the heart of an Aesymar, is not so easily commanded," Dorna continued. "In his great temple stood a mortal priestess named Osythe. Beautiful, yes, but also brilliant. She managed his mortal temple with such reverence that even Morthus himself took notice. A woman who feared neither god nor mortal, who spoke truth even to those who could destroy her with a thought. And he fell in love."
A few appreciative murmurs hummed around the fire.
"Now, when Olinthar learned of this attachment," Dorna said, and my blood ran cold at the casual mention of his name. "The King of Gods reminded Morthus of divine law. No god may lay with a mortal, let alone take one to wife. Such unions are forbidden, an abomination against the natural order."
Hypocrite,I thought bitterly.
"But Morthus had already fallen too deep," Dorna's voice rose dramatically. "He stood before the rest of the Twelve in their great council and declared his intention to marry Osythe properly."
Sulien's jaw tightened, and Thatcher shifted uncomfortably, smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt.
"Axora demanded a trial by combat," Dorna continued. "If Morthus could defeat any champion they chose, then the law would bend to his will. But if he lost, he would abandon this foolishness forever."
"Who did they choose?" one of the children asked.
"Pyralia," Dorna said with relish. "Aesymar of fire and passion. She stepped into the arena wreathed in flames that could melt stone, wielding fire that could burn evengods."
The story rolled on—three days and nights of fire against shadow, passion against death, until finally Morthus emerged victorious.
"The wedding shook both realms," Dorna continued. "Every god was forced to choose a side. And everyone, mortal and god alike suffered for it. Those cracks still run through the heavens to this day."
"But here's the truly remarkable part." Dorna's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried through the entire cave. "When it came time for the wedding vows, Osythe refused Morthus's offer of ascension. 'I choose to remain mortal,' she declared. 'For that is what you fell in love with.'"
"So what did he do?" Lira asked, though she knew the answer.
"Something that had never been done before," Dorna said. "As god of death, Morthus had power over the boundary between life and the afterlife. He reached into Osythe's very essence and simply... froze it in time. It wasn’t true immortality, wasn’t godhood. It was suspension. She exists now in the space between life and death—aging slowly, but still fundamentally mortal.”
At least she survived,I thought, anger rising in my chest.At least she got access to divine healers, to magic that could fix anything, heal everything.Unlike my mother, who'd been discarded back to the mortal realm—Elaren—to die.
"Osythe lives with her lover in Draknavor now," Dorna finished. "Their son ascended in the last Trials—Xül, Warden of the Damned. And every day, Morthus proves that even gods can choose love over law, compassion over command–”
"Very romantic," Thatcher called out. "Now tell us one we haven't heard fifty times."
"Ungrateful boy," Dorna huffed, but she was smiling.
I spotted Sulien sitting slightly apart from the chaos, watching the revelry with a soft expression I rarely saw on his weathered face.
"Mind if I sit?" I asked, settling beside him without waiting for an answer.
"Course not." He shifted to make room, his shoulder warm against mine. "Good night, isn't it?"
"It is." I followed his gaze across the cave, taking in the scattered groups, people swaying to the music, Dorna trying to convince a very drunk Tam to sit before he fell down. "Remember when Thatcher and I were too young for wine?"
"You were never too well-behaved to sneak some anyway." His mouth quirked upward. "Used to water down my ale thinking I wouldn't notice."
"We were very subtle about it."
"You once got so drunk that you tried to convince me mermaids were real because you'd seen one in the tide pools."
