Page 303 of The Ascended
I felt my broken form slowly, agonizingly reconstructing itself. Bones knitting together. Tissue regenerating. All in complete, suffocating silence.
Was Moros gone? Had he been torn away from me?
"Get up, boy." The voice boomed from everywhere, destroying that fragile hope. "We have eternity ahead of us. Might as well start properly."
I pushed myself upright, my body responding even though concepts like up and down seemed meaningless here.
"Where are we?" My voice sounded foreign, distant.
"A prison." He dragged the word out, savoring it. "One of the old ones. The universe's way of righting the balance, or whatever delusional machinations the morally superior spew." A pause. "Fitting for the Esprithe to find themselves in possession of such a thing. And how wonderfully ironic that you've trapped yourself here with me."
I couldn’t see. Not here.
"Do you know what's special about these prisons?" Moros continued, voice wrapping around me like a toxin. "They change those who enter. Mark them permanently. Transform them in ways that can never be undone." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I wonder what it will make of you."
Tension rippled through the air.
"Wondering why I haven't taken over that body of yours yet?" Moros's voice oozed through the void. "The rules are... different here."
I felt his frustration ripple.
"How considerate of you to trap us both where I cannot fully claim you."
The realization bloomed in my chest, a small flame of triumph.
But my victory was short-lived. Moros didn't seem particularly troubled by this limitation.
"Fate’s gifts truly do change perspective," he mused. "There are so many lines, but which to follow? Which to pay attention to?"
Cold realization washed over me. He was using Vorinar's stolen power—the ability to see possible futures—to plot his escape. To find a path out of this prison.
"Sadly, it's already fading," Moros added. "Such is the nature of stolen power. Without possessing the body directly, I can only borrow abilities temporarily. The threads of fate grow dimmer each time I look." A soft, menacing laugh. "All the more reason to hurry our little quest, wouldn't you say?"
Over my dead fucking body,I thought fiercely.I'd spend eternity in this void if it meant keeping him trapped here forever.
Hot breath caressed my neck. I jerked away, startled, and Moros laughed—the sound crawling through the darkness.
"You’ll find a way to claw yourself out of here, boy," he said, voice suddenly tight with anticipation. "And then you will find her. The girl with opalescent eyes and hair spun of moonlight. You will bring her to me. And through you, I shall touch the world again."
"I'll never do it," I snarled, hatred burning away my fear.
His hum of consideration skittered across my skin. "You will do it, young Vivros. And you won't even remember why. Much like your half-brother."
"You've been feeding on him," I whispered, revulsion and understanding mingling in my gut. "On Chavore."
"Very good. Memories are such delicious things—fragments of experience, of identity. Did you know that when you take enough of them, the person becomes... malleable? Like clay waiting to be reshaped."
"You monster," I hissed, straining.
"Everyone is a tool in one way or another," he whispered, dismissive. "He was a convenient vessel to observe you from a safe distance." His smile widened. "Though I must admit, his devotion to you was an unexpected complication. He fought so hard, even as I stripped away more and more of who he was."
I thought of all the times Chavore had seemed genuinely concerned for me, the moments of mentorship that felt authentic. Had those been him fighting through Moros's control? The realization stuck me straight through the heart.
"He's still in there," I said, more to myself than to Moros.
"Scraps, perhaps." Moros's voice was casual. "Nothing left of him to fight through it. Just as there won't be enough left of you to resist once I'm done."
I sensed Moros approaching, felt the ancient hunger radiating from him.
