Page 53 of The Ascended
“How many trials are there?” I pressed.
With a sigh that suggested I was testing the limits of his patience, Xül marked his place in the book and set it aside. "Four Trials before the forging itself," he continued as if explaining something painfully obvious.
"The Forging?"
"Yes, starling," Xül said. "Where mortality burns away, and what remains—if anything remains—becomes divine."
"Sounds pleasant."
"It isn't," he replied bluntly. "But then, neither is what comes before it."
"That’s a given. Unless there’s some secret meaning behind your riddles?"
"I mean watching the people you've come to care about die." His gaze sharpened on me. "A word of advice—don't make friends with the other contestants. It's not worth it."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Good. Using people as a means to an end is a different story entirely—that I encourage. Just be cautious of who you trust." His eyes returned to his book, a clear dismissal. "Now, again."
I turned back to the relentless training course he'd set out, my mind processing his warning. Not that I needed it. I hadn't come here to make friends. My brother and our mission had to come first.
My muscles screamed in protest, but I didn't let him see me winded. Didn't let him see the way my lungs burned or how my legs trembled from hours of relentless conditioning—not when he sat there with that infuriating air of elegant composure, angular jaw set. It was midday now, and all morning he'd had me swimming laps in the dark waters, running sprints across the black sand, doing endless exercises that would have broken a lesser person.
Which was only mildly infuriating, considering I was already in excellent shape. This wasn’t exactly the training I’d had in mind. My chest burned with power, begging for release.
"Clearly endurance isn't an issue for me," I growled, wipingsweat from my brow with the back of my hand. "I could do this in my sleep."
"You're not tired yet? That's unfortunate, as I was hoping you'd be exhausted enough to give me a semblance of peace this evening. So I guess we aren't finished."
The subtle cruelty in his voice made my blood simmer. "Why don't you join me then?"
"I'm not competing for my life. You are."
"I bet I could best you in a race." The words tumbled out, and I knew I sounded childish. But it infuriated me, seeing him standing there doing nothing while I'd worked my ass off for hours.
Xül considered this, and slowly, a curious smile spread across his face. "Well, let's test that theory then."
We walked down the beach until he pointed to a distant outcropping of black stone. "There. First one to reach that point wins."
I crouched into a starting position, muscles coiled and ready. When he said go, I took off like a shot, tearing across the black shore as fast as my legs could carry me. Sand flew up in dark clouds, and my heart hammered. I didn't see Xül behind me, didn't even sense his presence, which only made my smile wider with satisfaction.
I reached the outcropping with lungs burning and triumph singing in my veins—only to find Xül already there, leaning languidly against the stone as if he'd been waiting for hours. The air around him still shimmered with the aftereffects of torn reality.
"Well, that's cheating," I panted, hands on my knees.
"And there's the lesson," he said smoothly. "I can do that, but you can't. In the Trials, nothing is fair, and you're a fool if you think you can predict what someone else's next move will be."
I glared at him, fury and grudging understanding warring in my chest. It made sense, but I sure as hell wasn't going to say that out loud.
"So how much longer do I have to run around this beach before you're satisfied?"
Xül studied me for a long moment, his gaze traveling overmy sweat-dampened skin. "I suppose we can make it a bit more interesting. But just remember—you asked for it."
"Now we're talking." Relief flooded me as we walked back down the beach to where we'd started.
"Draw down your star," he commanded, settling back against his rock. "Forge your weapon."
I reached up toward the sky, feeling for the familiar pull of celestial energy. It was harder in daylight—the stars were there but distant, their light overwhelmed by this domain's strange sun. But I found one anyway, pulled its essence down into my hands until starlight condensed into something solid. The sword that formed was smaller than the one I'd created in the Proving, less dramatic, but no less deadly.
