Page 92 of The Ascended
"It's what I do."
"I do have a question if you wouldn't mind..." I said, gesturing around vaguely. "It's rather isolated here, so I have a hard time finding more... nuanced answers to things."
She settled into the chair Xül had vacated, light spilling around her. "Go on."
"The animosity towards Xül," I said, choosing my words carefully. "Why do Olinthar and other members of the Twelve despise his existence so much? If he's proven himself by ascending?—"
"I avoid divine politics as much as possible, so I can only give you my opinion," she said, weighing her response. "But I think some of the Aesymar believe his existence is a symbol of rebellion. Mortals and the divine are supposed to exist separately."
"Right," I said bitterly. "Because we're essentially insects to you all."
Miria's expression shifted. "Just a decade ago, I was very much like you. Some of us remember our mortal lives quite vividly."
The gentle rebuke landed with unexpected force. I looked away.
"During my Trials, there was one contestant the others were explicitly told to eliminate. They were promised rewards if they succeeded, divine favor if they removed the... aberration."
Xül.
"By the third challenge, he'd raised those who'd tried to kill him after he slaughtered them. They became his undead army for the remainder of the trial. Quite poetic, really."
"You sound like you admire him."
"I respect him," she corrected. "Once, I was bleeding out from a spear wound. The contestant who’d done it mentioned hunting the abomination next." She made a small gesture, fingers closing into a fist. "Hands dragged her into the earth itself."
"He saved you?"
"He removed an annoyance. The fact that he stayed by my side after was... unexpected."
"I assume that's an experience that bonds you for life."
"No. Xül isn't close with anyone. We survived together. That's all."
She rose, moving toward the door. At the threshold, she paused. "The Aesymarean pantheon shares many qualities with the mortal realm. It's not as black and white as it sometimes seems." Her fingers closed around the handle. "A valid thing to consider."
And then she was gone.
Chapter 23
Spilled Truths
A sudden mentaltug had my heart stopping. Faint but unmistakable. Thatcher.
The distance between Draknavor and Bellarium made our bond feel stretched thin, like a thread pulled taut to the point of nearly breaking. We couldn't share thoughts or feelings across such vast distance, but this—this simple pull—was our way of checking on each other. A question with only one meaning:Are you alive?
I closed my eyes. The tug came again, a little stronger this time. More insistent. He was worried.
I reached back along that invisible tether, giving a single, firm pull in response.I'm here.
That was all we could manage—this most basic form of communication, reduced to the simplest binary. Alive or not. Safe or not.
The bond went still for a moment, then I felt one last gentle tug. Acknowledgment. Relief, perhaps. Then nothing. The connection receded to its usual background presence, barely perceptible but always there.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, testing my weight on the newly healed limb. It held without pain,without weakness. I walked to the window. Beyond the glass, Draknavor stretched in all its terrible beauty—black sand beaches meeting the sea, obsidian cliffs rising against the scarlet sky.
You killed someone.
The memory played with perfect clarity—the star-blade leaving my fingers, its arc through forest air, the impact as it struck his chest. His wide eyes as he realized he was about to die.
