Page 241 of The Ascended
Morthus paused. For a moment, pain flickered across his face, evident in the way his forehead wrinkled.
"Your mother died in childbirth." It wasn't a question. His voice had gone quiet, almost gentle.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"He could have saved her." The words fell between us. Morthus's hands clenched at his sides, and when his black eyes met mine, I saw only grief. "As I saved Osythe."
"But Olinthar let her die," I said, my voice cracking. "Let her bleed out bringing his children into the world."
"Mortals deserve better." His voice carried the weight of ages, of countless souls who had passed through his domain. "Such cruelty leaves marks on the living that echo through eternity. I know this well."
I felt Xül shift. Pain lanced through me. I'd been braced for Morthus to dismiss it, to shrug off another dead mortal woman like she was nothing. But he looked at me like he actually gave a damn. Like it was an atrocity.
He'd been there with Osythe, and he'd saved her. Because that's what you do when you love someone. You save them.
But we were not born of love.
"Tell me," Morthus said after a moment. "The second trial in Hydrathis—your brother slaughtered those sirens. At the time, I thought it merely protective instinct. But now..." He paused. "He was protecting this secret. The bloodline you carry."
I remained silent. Of course he'd seen it. They all had.
"A dark truth indeed," Morthus murmured. "To carry your mother's death and your father's cruelty as your definingsecret. To be forced to hide not just what you are, but the tragedy of how you came to be."
His gaze found mine again, and there was a faintly paternal look in it. "I am sorry for you, Thais Morvaren. That is no way to live."
I wiped away the wetness from my eyes. "I appreciate that."
"So, you believe this shared enemy makes us allies," Morthus continued. "That your hatred of Olinthar somehow changes the fundamental calculus of the risk your brother represents."
"Doesn't it?" I challenged. "You're afraid Thatcher will become Olinthar's weapon. But we despise him. Both of us. Do you really think my brother would ever serve the god who destroyed our lives?"
"Want and capability are vastly different things, child." He paused mid-stride, the darkness around him agitated. "Your brother possesses power not seen since Primordials walked among us. That kind of strength has a way of... corrupting intentions."
"You fear what he might become," I pressed on. "But you're about to destroy possibly the only being strong enough to actually challenge Olinthar. You want to waste that because of what might happen? Let us do what we came here to do. Let us have our revenge. We all win."
Morthus studied me with those fathomless eyes. "You speak of 'we' as if you'll survive what's coming."
I lifted my chin. "Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. But if we do, wouldn't you rather have him as an ally than create an enemy by killing his sister?"
A ghost of acknowledgment touched his lips.
"Your son told me something once," I continued, seizing the momentum. "At the ruins of the Primordials."
Morthus's gaze sharpened. “My son seems to be incapable of holding his tongue, now doesn’t he?”
Xül crossed his arms, and I heard a sigh slip from his lips.
"He told me about how the pantheon fractured after Vivros fell. How some of the Twelve wanted to understand what had happenedto him—including you." I met Morthus's eyes directly. "He said you believed Vivros could be saved."
The Lord of Death had gone very still again, but this time it felt different. Contemplative rather than threatening.
"He said it created the first political factions," I pressed on. "Traditionalists versus reformists. Those who would destroy what they feared versus those who would seek to understand it."
"And your point?" Morthus asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"Here we are again. My brother with Vivros's power. History positioning itself to repeat." I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. "So, I ask you, Lord Morthus—are you going to be the traditionalist this time? Destroy what you fear? Or are you the reformist you claim to be?"
Morthus laughed—a short, sharp sound.
