Page 173 of The Ascended
"So you saved her."
"I did," he confirmed. "Though not openly. I manipulated souls beneath the water to push her toward the shore, made it appear as though a fallen tree had diverted her course." His voice was carefully neutral. "My father would have considered it inappropriate interference in mortal affairs."
"You risked his disapproval to save a child," I said softly.
"The paperwork would have been tedious."
I couldn't help but smile. "Of course. Purely practical."
The dance ended, but neither of us moved away. I loved hearing about his past, these small glimpses of what he’d been like in a different time—a different world. When he was a different Xül. But apart of me couldn't help but feel he was simply filling the silences we didn't want to replace with other things—harder things.
His hand lingered at my waist a moment longer than necessary before he finally stepped back. I watched him cross to the window, his profile outlined against the blood-red sky of Draknavor.
"You know, Thais," he said suddenly, still gazing out the window, "you never ask me about what happens after."
I stilled, uncertain what he meant. "After?"
"After the Trials." He turned to face me. "You've never once asked what becomes of you if you ascend."
The question caught me off guard. I'd never seriously considered it—a future beyond all of this. Those possibilities had never seemed real enough to contemplate. The truth was, there was no after. Not for me. Not for Thatcher. We knew what we’d signed up for when we made that pact. Killing the King of Gods was not something we ever expected to survive.
"I..." I hesitated, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. "I never thought that far ahead."
He studied me with that penetrating gaze that always made me feel exposed. "I find that difficult to believe."
I crossed to the opposite window, needing distance from his scrutiny. The black sands stretched out below, meeting the dark ocean like two realms of shadow colliding. My reflection stared back at me from the glass, a stranger with my face.
"I suppose I never planned to make it out of this alive," I admitted.
I heard Xül's sharp intake of breath. "That's the first time you've ever said something like that."
"I try not to think about it." I kept my eyes on the horizon.
"And does your brother share your pessimism?" His voice had taken on a careful edge.
"Thatcher has always been the optimist," I said, offering a version of the truth that concealed its heart.
"But you’ve always seemed so confident, so sure ofyourself," he pressed. “People who expect to die in the Trials don’t have those qualities—not normally.”
"It’s simply the truth, Xül." I turned towards him finally, offering a knowing smile. “You said it yourself, when we first met. The likelihood of me surviving is laughable.”
"Don’t do that." His voice had gone dangerously low.
“Do what?” I asked, shrugging. “Your words, not mine.”
Xül closed the distance between us in three swift strides. "This isn’t a game to me, Thais. Perhaps it was in the beginning. Before I knew you—before I knew who you really were. But it's not anymore. And you’re perfectly aware of that."
"Just because I impressed you doesn’t mean anything has changed," I countered, lifting my chin. "There are still two Trials to go, and then the forging."
He simply stared at me, mouth opening and then closing. He dragged his hand down his face.
“Relax, it’s not like I have some death wish,” I added, realizing how serious the conversation had become. “I’m just trying to be realistic.”
"And what about those who care about you?" he demanded. "Have you considered what your death would mean to them?"
"There are few left that do," I said simply. “The rest are dead because of me.”
Xül's jaw tightened. "So what? You view this as some kind of atonement?"
