Page 179 of The Ascended
He gave me an odd look before taking a sip anyway, his throat working as he swallowed. I watched, waiting for... something. What was I expecting to happen?
I looked around at the beings in attendance—servants from across the domains, other Aesymar, and Legends socializing in clusters. If the banquet had been stiff and formal, this ball was its wild counterpoint. Guests moved with languid grace—hands drifting where they shouldn’t.
"Is this normal?" I asked, gesturing subtly toward the various displays of affection around the room. "Everyone seems less... restrained than I expected."
Thatcher chuckled, his eyes scanning the room with practiced ease. "I suppose divinity comes with certain liberties, sister. Whenyou've lived for centuries, societal constraints begin to feel rather tedious."
"Besides," Marx added, "why pretend to be proper when everyone knows what happens after these events? The domains are rife with stories of divine liaisons. Half the pantheon has slept with the other half at some point."
"You seem well-informed on divine gossip," Thatcher remarked, raising an eyebrow.
Marx shrugged, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Yes, well, I torture such things out of Aelix."
A voice boomed through the space.
We turned toward the staircase just as Chavore and Elysia were announced. They descended hand in hand. Elysia's gown seemed woven from flame, shifting between shades of gold and sienna with each step, while Chavore wore golden armor so finely crafted it moved like second skin.
"They're disgustingly pretty together," Marx muttered, her eyes narrowed in appreciation.
As they reached the ground floor, Chavore's hand dropped far too low on Elysia's back to be considered proper. Marx raised an eyebrow, but Thatcher merely chuckled.
"This is tame for them," he commented knowingly.
"And finally, presenting Xül, Warden of the Damned, and Nyvora, Aesymar of Fauna. The Divine Court extends its congratulations on your recent engagement."
The words sliced through our conversation. My glass nearly slipped from my fingers as every muscle in my body tensed at once. The room tilted beneath my feet, forcing me to steady myself against a nearby column.
My heart stilled in my chest.
I looked up to see Xül, arm in arm with Nyvora as they made their way down the stairs. He was breathtaking in a suit of the deepest black, fitted so perfectly the fabric seemed to worship his form. A cloak draped from his broad shoulder. His angular features weresomehow even more devastating in the ethereal light, his presence commanding every ounce of air in the room.
Beside him, Nyvora was beaming—a ridiculous smirk slashed across her face. Her gown shifted between shades of emerald and forest green. Leaves and vines appeared to grow and move across the fabric, revealing glimpses of tanned skin beneath. Her wild blonde hair was partially tamed, adorned with flowers that bloomed and closed. She was undeniably beautiful, elemental in a way that made my mortality feel like a weight around my neck.
And then only hurt. Oppressive. So intense I felt I might drown in it. The reaction confused me—I had known they were engaged. But hearing it announced to divine society made it feel so much more real, so much more final.
Marx glanced at me. "You look like you need this," she said, pressing a flute into my hand.
I accepted it wearily, taking a small sip and noting that it lacked the strange bitterness of the drink at the Cascades. Before I could reconsider, I tilted my head back and drained the glass, welcoming the rush of warmth that followed.
The voice came over the room again, inviting Xül and Nyvora to share the first dance.
I watched as his arms wrapped around her waist, and my body nearly felt the phantom sensation of his touch—the way he had held me during our dance lessons, his fingers pressing into the small of my back, guiding me. It was a memory that lived in my muscles, an imprint I couldn't explain away.
The sight was too much to bear. I turned and walked a few paces away, my eyes fixing on a message written on the wall in flowing silver letters:Desire Consumes.
I agreed silently with the ominous sentiment, feeling its truth in the hollow ache beneath my ribs.Yes, I thought.It truly fucking does.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before returning to Thatcher and Marx, who seemed completely entranced by their surroundings. Several couples had joined Xül and Nyvora on thedance floor in a whirl of divine beauty. For an instant, Xül’s eyes landed on mine, and his jaw tensed as his gaze raked over me. He looked absolutely livid.
Thatcher glanced at Marx, then at me. "Should I ask her to dance?" he asked me, though his eyes never left her.
Marx laughed, the sound more like a cackle. "You know, I'm standing right here." She gave me a knowing smile before pulling him onto the dance floor by his coat. He followed eagerly. It seemed my brother had his fair share of dance lessons as well. Marx, on the other hand, was trying to lead him—a battle of wills set to music that had them both laughing.
Something brushed against my arm, and shivers raced up my spine at the contact. I turned to see a man with silver hair and eyes of molten gold—not a man, an Aesymar. A Legend. One that must not have been part of the Trials because I didn’t recognize him.
He smiled at me.
I couldn't help but smile back. I didn't know what had gotten into me, but I felt like I might combust at the interaction, my skin buzzing with awareness.
