Page 156 of The Ascended
Fire Beasts
Rememberingmy purpose proved easier than expected. Xül was not simply away for the rest of the afternoon. It had been days since he vanished into the Eternal City—five, to be exact.
The letter arrived on the second day. Back soon. Aelix will oversee your training. That was all. No explanation. No warmth. Just orders.
I hated—hated—how his absence hollowed out the Bone Spire. How shadows felt wrong without him stepping out of them. How silence pressed against my ears where his voice should have been. Without his constant presence pulling my focus, I was left to drown in my own thoughts. And gods, they were vicious things.
Memories hunted me through the darkness. Sulien's blood painting sandy cave floors; the exact second they tore me from everything I'd ever known; how the world compressed to a single point of pure terror before exploding outward into chaos. Those trial monsters with their unnatural joints.
Sleep had become my enemy. I'd wake gasping, sheets soaked through with cold sweat, the taste of copper and fear thick on my tongue. Sometimes I'd reach for a presence that wasn't there, forgettingin those hazy moments between sleep and waking that I was alone.
Aelix had been charged with training me in Xül's absence.
Poor bastard.
Whatever chaos Marx and I generated seemed to multiply in Aelix's presence. He tried—gods knew he tried—but he wielded authority the way a child wielded an oversized sword. Where Xül could end rebellions with a single glance, Aelix's commands fell flat. His desperation grew more visible each day, carving new lines into his face.
He'd been instructed to work on my crown of stars. I managed to summon it without any external motivation from Aelix—thank every god listening. I couldn't imagine Xül had shared what it took to unlock that power the first time.
His mouth on mine. Heat that swam through my veins. The world narrowing until only his hands existed, his lips, the dangerous promises his body made against mine?—
I slammed that door shut before the memory could form, but my traitorous body remembered. It always remembered. I wasn't even sure how much of a line Xül and I had crossed. Mortals and Immortals couldn't be together, but what did that entail? Kissing? More than kissing? I'd assumed the latter, considering he did it right out in the open, daring the world to stop him.
By day four, Marx had driven Aelix to madness.
When I was alone with Marx, I avoided the subjects that simmered in the air between us. Her parents. What she'd been forced to reveal in the archives while I'd escaped with my secrets intact. The words to ask died in my throat whenever I glimpsed that haunted shadow that sometimes crossed her features. She hadn't chosen to bare that wound. The least I could do was not pick at it.
But Marx had no such restraint. Her suspicious glances struck, each one saying: I know you're hiding something. Because everyone knew. Everyone had seen me walk out of those archives withoutpaying the price. I was living on borrowed time before her questions came knocking again.
Where Xül preferred the brutal honesty of the shore—Aelix favored the forest clearings. So that's where we trained.
Today was no different. The clearing was dappled with morning light, the sun filtering through the dense canopy. The trees here were different than those in Elaren—darker, more sentient, with bark that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Sometimes I swore I could hear them breathing. I'd grown accustomed to the strangeness of this domain, but sometimes, in quiet moments, the otherness of it all struck me anew, leaving me homesick for a place I could no longer return to.
"Again," Aelix demanded. Sweat beaded on his brow despite the morning chill. "And this time, Marx, try not to curse the entire clearing into decay."
Marx flashed him a grin that was all teeth and threat. "Where's the fun in that?"
I suppressed a smile, gathering my power once more. It surged through me, pooling in my palms before shooting up to frame my head—first as sparks, then pulsing spheres of light. Across the clearing, Marx flexed her fingers, readying herself.
"The point of this exercise," Aelix said, his patience wearing thin enough to see through, "is control, not destruction."
"Boring," Marx muttered, but she squared her shoulders anyway.
We'd been at this for hours. He'd begun each session by drawing a blade across his palm, letting crimson droplets fall to the earth where they sank in and waited for his command. His curses were born from blood—his own given with purpose, ours when we bled in combat. Despite his exasperation, he was an excellent teacher. Patient in a way Xül never was, explaining the mechanics of combat rather than expecting us to learn through pain and failure.
"Ready?" he asked, his golden eyes narrowing as he shifted into a combat stance, weight balanced on the balls of his feet.
We nodded, and then he was moving.
Aelix pressed his bloodied palm to the ground, and the earth responded. Crimson veins spider-webbed across the dirt, pulsing with malevolent life. Where they touched, the blood rose—vapor that coalesced into horrid shapes. Serpents made of clotted gore, hands that grasped with liquid fingers, thorns that wept red tears.
I threw myself sideways, feeling the heat of corrupted blood pass inches from my face. My hands came up, pulling down a star from my crown and forging a shield of starlight that materialized just as the second attack struck. A whip of blood lashed against my shield. The impact sent vibrations up my arms, rattling my teeth. Where blood met light, steam rose with the scent of iron and stardust.
Marx dodged and weaved, her fingers dancing in subtle patterns. I couldn't see her curses, but I saw their effects. Aelix stumbled mid-strike, his ankle twisting as if he'd stepped wrong. He corrected with practice, but Marx was already moving, fingers flicking in a new pattern.
This time Aelix's arm spasmed. He switched his blade from one hand to another, but I caught the flash of irritation in his eyes. Another gesture from Marx, and angry red welts bloomed across the back of his neck where her curse found flesh.
"Better," Aelix acknowledged, even as he scratched at the welts. "But predictable."
