Page 96 of The Ascended
"We were... careful. He never asked about the curse, never pushed. Just accepted it as part of me. For two years, I had something almost like normal. We even talked about leaving together, finding a remote place where priests rarely went."
"What happened?"
"Someone saw me. Late one night, lost control for just a second—cursed a drunk who grabbed me. Nothing fatal, just boils. But it was enough." Her voice went flat again, emotionless. "The priests came at dawn. Finn tried to stop them. Stood in front of the door to my room, told them I wasn't there."
My heart sank. I already knew how this ended.
"They cut him down where he stood.” She turned away from me. "His last words were telling me to run. So I did. Right into their trap—they had the whole block surrounded."
"Marx..."
"The thing is," she continued, not acknowledging my sympathy, "I could have saved him. Could have cursed every one of those priests before they touched him. But I hesitated. Didn't want to prove them right about what I was. And he died for that hesitation."
She paused, staring out at the horizon. "You know what the real kicker was? The Trials weren't for another year. A whole year they kept me in that cell where we did the proving. Just... waiting. Counting down the days until they could murder me."
"A year?" I couldn't hide my horror. "Alone?"
"Oh, I had company. The screams from other cells. The knowledge that Finn died for nothing—I was caught anyway." Her voice went hard as flint. "Plenty of time to think about every mistake I'd made. Every moment I'd chosen restraint."
The parallel slammed into me. Restraint only worked for so long in this world.
"That's why you fought so hard," I said quietly. "You're not hesitating anymore."
"Never." She met my eyes, and I saw the steel there, forged in loss and tempered by rage. "They want a monster? I'll give them one. But on my terms."
We stood there in silence for a few moments. A part of me wanted to hug her, or tell her how sorry I was for the life she endured. But I couldn’t find the words.
"Your turn,” she said casually, turning back to me.
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I just spilled my tragic backstory all over this beach. Least you can do is return the favor." She crossed her arms, waiting.
I considered lying, deflecting. But she'd given me truth, raw and painful. I owed her at least a version of the same. "I grew up on an oyster farm."
"Thrilling start."
"Shut up." I let a grin escape. "My brother and I, we were raised by..." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "By our father, Sulien. Our mother—she died when we were born."
"I'm sorry," Marx said, surprising me with her softer tone.
"Yeah." I bent to pick up a stone, worn smooth by the tide. It felt heavy in my palm. "Sulien tried to keep us safe. Small village, quiet life. It worked for a while."
"Until?"
"Until I manifested." I opened my palm, letting tiny points of light dance across my skin for just a moment before closing my fist. "Sixteen years old, nearly an adult, and suddenly I'm pulling stars from the sky during a nightmare."
"Bet that went over well."
"Sulien nearly had a heart attack. Made me swear never to do it again, never to tell anyone, never to even think about it." The memory burned through me. "He was terrified. Not of me, but for me."
"Understandable."
"I practiced in secret. Late at night, down by the coves where no one went. Learned to shape the light, to transform it. We lived twenty-six years in that village. I worked the oyster beds, had distant friends, even had..." I thought of Marel, pushed the ache away. "Had a semblance of normal life."
"Until the priests came."
"Until the priests came," I echoed, thinking of Sulien's blood on the sand, his final words.
