Page 45 of The Ascended
But I didn’t pay attention to any of it. My mind was focused on the road ahead.
I was Thais Morvaren, wielder of stars, and I had come here to learn how to kill a god.
If the Prince thought he could ignore me, he was about to learn exactly how wrong he was.
Chapter 13
Thatcher
It wasthe blood-drenched dream again. The one where a Legend exploded.
Night still claimed the world beyond my crystal windows. Back in Saltcrest, I'd already be at the docks by now, hauling in nets with muscles burning from honest work, not lying in this too-soft bed waiting for the sun to crest the horizon.
Were the palace servants about to burst in and dress me like they had before the Choosing? The Dreamweavers had fussed over every detail, straightening collars and smoothing wrinkles.
I rolled my eyes and slid from the bed. Twenty-six years of dressing myself would have to suffice.
The wardrobe revealed clothing worth more than our entire village—embroidered tunics in jewel tones, shirts spun from fabric that could feed a family for months. I grabbed the plainest option available, the weight of wealth still unfamiliar against my skin.
Sulien's weathered face flickered through my mind—the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the calluses on his hands from years of teaching us to fish. What would he think of me now?
Worth dying for.The promise Thais and I made. If dismantlingOlinthar's reign meant playing the eager student, I'd become the best liar in Voldaris.
Bellarium stretched beyond my window—a monstrosity of training yards and judgment halls. A bone-white arena towered in the distance.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I called, arranging my features into a mask. Shoulders relaxed, eyes wide with appropriate awe.
Chavore’s broad shoulders filled the doorway.
"Morning, sunshine," he grinned, teeth flashing white against tanned skin. "Sleep well?"
I matched his smile. "Like the dead." The lie flowed smooth as honey.
His laugh ricocheted off the high ceiling. "Enjoying your stay in Bellarium? Getting settled these past few days?"
I frowned. "Days? I arrived last night."
He leaned against the doorframe, brow crinkling. "Time blurs when you’re immortal. You'll understand once you've ascended."
The casual assumption that I'd join their ranks grated my nerves. I nodded, tucking the information away—not just his memory lapse, but the certainty with which he spoke of my future.
"Follow me," he said, already turning. "Time to see what you're made of."
Blood and vengeance, I thought but figured it was best I keep that particular one to myself.
The slate gray hallways gleamed with veins of silver. Beings with elongated features, bedecked in blue military garb marched past, heads lowered. Their bodies moved in unison as if controlled by a single mind.
I watched Chavore acknowledge them—a nod here, a half-smile there. Power draped across his shoulders like an invisible cloak, evident in every unhurried step. The world waited for him, not the other way around.
"Who are they?" I asked.
"The Syrenari. Bellarium's elite. Part soldier, part judge—they cannot speak falsehood." His mouth quirked. "Terrible companions at a party."
We descended a spiral staircase that wound around warriors frozen mid-battle, their faces caught between triumph and agony.
"I have to admit," I said, letting confusion leak into my voice, "I'm still surprised you chose me."
