Page 73 of The Ascended
His crown of metal leaves sat crooked on his dark hair, a few twigs caught in the strands. There was a smudge of dirt across his left cheek.
"Sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all. That grin tugged at his lips, the one that had gotten us into and out of trouble our entire lives.
A rustle from the direction of my snare had us both freezing. I pressed a finger to my lips, and both sets of eyesfixed on the trap.
Has everything been going to plan?His mental voice brushed against mine, familiar as breathing.
It was a rough start to say the least.I muted my emotions, not letting him feel the bone-deep exhaustion.But yes. Making progress.
Same. Still don't have full control, but I've been practicing.
I bit back a wince. What did such practice entail? Did I even want to know?
Thatcher narrowed his eyes.Not anything you’re thinking. More like breaking down the structures of other living things. Plants, a few animals. Nothing crazy.
Another rustle had us both stilling, watching the trap. After a few moments, we slumped in disappointment.
Is that how Chavore described it? Breaking down structures?
That's how it looks to me. Visually…Confusion bled through the bond.Chavore is a surprisingly decent teacher. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on him.
Anything to report?
Well, not much, truthfully.Thatcher admitted.But for the Aesymar of Strategy, he's remarkably...
What?
He has the memory of a goldfish.
Well, he was born an Aesymar after all. Never had to actually prove himself. Perhaps he's not that bright. Nepotism and all.
Maybe. He's traveling to Sundralis tonight. I assume he’ll see Olinthar.
Must be strange,I managed, keeping my mental voice steady.Being around Chavore. Knowing what he is to us.
I try not to think about it.But I caught the edges of what he didn't say—the constant awareness of shared features, shared blood.
There's something I need to tell you,I said finally.
His eyes sharpened, giving me his full attention.
I found texts in Xül's library.I kept my thoughts steady.Your power—it hasn't existed since the Primordials.
His face went very still.
There was one called Vivros. Cataclysm Incarnate.He could manipulate living matter at the fundamental level. Turn armies to paste with a thought. Reshape flesh like clay.
Thatcher swallowed hard.
I met his eyes, making sure he understood the gravity of this.And it took all Twelve working together to kill him.
The color drained from his face as the implications hit.
Does Chavore know?His thoughts were laced with sudden fear.
We have to assume he might. We have to assume they all might.
Fuck.He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing his crooked crown.
