Page 24 of The Ascended
They didn't just clean me—they transformed me. My hair, tangled and dull, was washed with substances that smelled like citrus and combed until it fell in waves down my back. My skin was painted with shimmering pigments that made it glow, and my eyes were outlined with kohl.
The gown they brought was a spectacle all in itself. Deep black fabric that reminded me of velvet, but richer and more luminous. Scattered across it were thousands of tiny crystals that glittered. The cut was unlike anything I'd ever seen in the village, even from the wealthy travelers who spent their summers on the coast—fitted close through the bodice but with sleeves and a skirt that flowed like water.
Through it all, I sat numbly, letting them work. My mind was focused on one thing only. What I would say when I had the chance to plead for Thatcher's life. How I would demonstrate my power in a way that would gain the gods' attention and favor. How I would save him, no matter what it cost me.
Let them dress me up like a doll if it would help. Let them paint me and powder me and make me beautiful for their entertainment. Because when I stood before the Aesymar, I would be the spectacle they were looking for. I would be powerful. I would be everything they wanted and more.
And I would make them spare my brother.
Chapter 6
The Summons
"There,"Lyralei said, stepping back to admire her work. "Perfect."
I stared at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. I looked powerful. Dangerous. Beautiful in a way that demanded attention.
Which was exactly what I needed.
But even as I tried to center myself on that single purpose, other thoughts crept in. Sulien would never see me like this. The thought threatened to crack my chest open, and I shoved it down.
Focus,I told myself.This is for Thatcher.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and one of the other Dreamweavers slipped back into the room. She seemed younger than Lyralei, with hair that shifted between silver and deep purple.
"Novalie," Lyralei said, turning to her. "Did you tell them that our candidate would like to present early?"
"Yes, the request has been passed on," Novalie sighed.
"And the verdict?"
"It will be... considered."
"Considered," I repeated, my voice flat as I tried to stifle my anger. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means they're thinking about it," Lyralei said gently. "Which is better than an outright refusal. The first rounds are typically reserved for those who volunteered. Many have been training for this their entire life. And you…” She trailed off, smiling softly. “Well, you were forced here. They could be less enthusiastic about conceding to your requests.”
I wanted to scream. Wanted to tear off this ridiculous dress and storm out of here to find Thatcher. But I forced myself to take a breath, to remember that this was the only chance I had. The only way I could help him.
Be smart,I told myself.Use the anger. Don't let it use you.
I tried to summon the competitive fire that I'd spent years suppressing in favor of keeping my head down, staying unnoticed. It was strange to let it fully surface now, to embrace that part of myself that had always wanted to prove I was better than anyone expected.
Growing up, I'd beaten every boy in the village at arm wrestling, out-sailed fishermen twice my age, drunk grown men under the table. But I'd always had to be careful about it, make it look like luck or an accident. Never let anyone see how much I craved the moment when I proved I was stronger, faster, smarter than they'd assumed.
Now, finally, I could use all of that.
It should have been liberating.
Instead, it was hollow. Because the person who had sacrificed everything to prevent this exact moment was gone.
Stop it,I commanded myself.Stop thinking about him.I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms hard enough to draw blood. I could not fall into that spiral of grief again. Not now. I refused to lose someone else.
"What should I expect?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. All mortals knew about the Trials, but the details were kept deliberately vague.
"When you enter," Lyralei began, "you will only see a fellow grouping of contestants and the seven presiding Legends, of course."
The Legends. Children of the first generation of Aesymar, born of divinity, along with those who Ascended during the Trials.
