Page 6 of The Ascended
Thatcher was quiet for a moment. "I've never needed to wonder," he finally said. "I've always had everything I needed righthere." He bumped his shoulder against mine. "Besides, I'd be bored without you around to keep me in line."
I laughed despite myself. "As if anyone could keep you in line."
Thatcher’s profile was outlined against the night, his expression relaxed and unconcerned. He'd always been the optimist between us, convinced that our luck would hold, that we'd continue our comfortable, if constrained, existence indefinitely. I'd never had the heart to tell him that sometimes I didn't know which I feared more—being discovered or spending my entire life hiding.
"Do you ever think about him?" I asked, the words rushing out of me.
"Who?"
"Him. Olinthar." The name felt strange on my tongue.
It was the first time I'd said his name aloud in years. The King of Gods himself, ruler of the Twelve Aesymar, master of celestial light. The creature who had sired us.
Behind us, a star blazed across the heavens, burning bright before vanishing into darkness. I didn't need to turn to know it had fallen.
Chapter 2
Sea and Soil
The Endeavorslicedthrough the swells, bleeding white foam in her wake, her hull groaning with the weight of the morning's catch. I hauled another net aboard, muscles burning as the rope bit into my palms and grinned as silver bodies writhed in the mesh. The other fishermen watched with grudging respect as I hefted the load onto the deck.
"Damn, Thais," wheezed Old Henrik, wiping sweat from his weathered brow. "You're making us look like children."
"Maybe you should eat more of what you catch," I shot back, earning a round of laughter from the crew. "Might put some muscle on those scrawny arms."
The captain, Jorik, shook his head with a grin. "Should've known better than to bet against a Morvaren. Your brother warned me you'd clean us out."
We'd been out since before dawn, following the deep currents where the best fish ran. I'd volunteered for the expedition at Sulien’s request—but also because I needed something to do with my hands. Physical work had always been my cure for restless energy.
"One more haul," Jorik called, pointing toward a promising swell of dark water. "Then we head back before the tide turns."
I positioned myself at the net, sea spray cooling my sun-heated skin. The work was brutal, but there was honesty in it—no pretense, no hidden dangers, just muscle against the sea's bounty. For a few hours, I could forget everything else, lose myself in the rhythm of cast and haul.
"You're enjoying this too much," Henrik observed, wiping his brow as he watched me coil rope.
"Better than shucking oysters all day," I replied, testing the weight of the net. "At least out here, the only thing trying to cut me is the rope."
"Aye, but oysters don't fight back when you haul them up," Tam added with a grin. "Fish have more spirit."
"So do I," I shot back, earning another round of laughter.
The final net went down heavy and came up like it wanted to drag us all to the bottom. I grabbed my section of rope and pulled, the familiar burn starting in my shoulders. Around me, the other men were grunting and swearing as they hauled.
Without thinking, I pulled harder. The net crawled up the side of the ship, cutting through the water like it weighed nothing.
"Well, shit," Tam said, staring as we made quick work of what should have been back-breaking labor. "Either we got lucky with the current or?—"
Oh, fuck.
I let go so fast I nearly sent Henrik sprawling.
"Careful there!" he barked as the rope jerked in his hands.
"Sorry." I grabbed the rope again, this time letting its full weight hit me. My shoulders screamed in protest—not from the effort, but from suddenly having to pretend it was difficult. Thatcher and I had always been stronger than we had any right to be. Just another consequence of our parentage
"This thing's heavier than it looks," I said.
"No kidding," Henrik grunted, his face red and slick with sweat.
