Page 119 of The Ascended
“You’ve hardly spoken all evening, my son,” Morthus said, his black eyes narrowing. “Is something troubling you?”
“Nothing worth discussing at dinner,” Xül replied.
A wordless exchange passed between father and son then—a tension I couldn’t quite decipher.
“I see.” Morthus set down his utensils. “Well, perhaps we can continue this conversation in my study afterward.”
“As you wish, Father.” Xül’s voice was cold as ice.
Osythe sighed. “Perhaps I’ll show Thais the gardens while you two... talk.” The emphasis she placed on the last word made it clear she knew exactly what kind oftalkingwould occur.
“A wonderful idea,” Morthus agreed, his gaze softening as it returned to his wife. The transformation was remarkable—from intimidating deity to devoted husband in the space of a heartbeat. “The foliage is particularly fine this season.”
As the meal concluded, servants appeared to clear the table.
“Shall we?” Morthus rose, nodding to Xül.
Without waiting for a response, he strode from the room, his form seeming to pull shadows along in his wake. Xül lingered just long enough to cast me a warning glance before following his father.
Osythe watched them go with a slight shake of her head. “Men,” she said, gesturing lazily.
She turned to me with a warm smile. “Come, dear. The gardens are much more pleasant than listening to those two batter against each other’s stubbornness.”
I rose to follow her, casting one last glance at the doorway where Xül had disappeared. Something told me that whatever conversation awaited him would not be pleasant.
* * *
Dark flowering vines climbed the gates of the garden, their blooms deep crimson and ivory. Twisted trees bore fruit that gleamed like garnets, dew speckling their surface. A small stream wound through the grounds, its water clear and reflective, mirroring the darkening sky above.
“My contribution,” Osythe said, noticing my interest in a cluster of plants whose flowers resembled red spiders. “When I first came here, there were no gardens. Just empty space.” She ran her fingersalong a petal with obvious affection. “Morthus didn’t understand the point at first.”
“What did you tell him?” I found myself genuinely curious.
“That death is meaningless without life,” she replied simply. “That one defines the other.” She smiled at the memory. “He stood silent for a long time after that, but he ordered the creation of this entire space the very next day.”
We walked in companionable silence for a moment, following the path as it wound deeper into the garden. A gentle draft slid across my arms, crisp enough to raise gooseflesh. It carried hints of spice and damp earth
“You must have questions,” Osythe said finally, her tone gentle. “About this place. About us.”
“A few,” I admitted. Thousands, in truth, but most were too dangerous to voice.
“Everyone knows the tale,” she said with a small smile. “The God of Death falling for his mortal priestess. It’s become quite the romantic fable in Elaren, I’ve heard.”
“There’s often a difference between fable and truth,” I ventured.
“Indeed.” She paused beside a small pond where strange fish with scales like black pearls swam in lazy circles. “Mortals do love their dramatic tales.”
“You came here willingly,” I said, not sure if it was a question or not.
“I did.” Her green eyes held mine. “I was thirty-two years old, unmarried. My life was the temple. And I was... curious.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Terrified,” she admitted. “But sometimes terror and exhilaration are separated by the thinnest of margins. I think you understand that, given your current circumstances.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Osythe paused, her fingers trailing over a dark blossom. “The Winter Solstice was always my favorite time at the temple. When the Gods walked among us, accepting our offerings and renewing theirbonds with Elaren. I’d been High Priestess for five years.” Her eyes softened. “Morthus attended every one after that first meeting. He claimed it was to ensure the cemeteries were properly maintained, but...” She shrugged elegantly. “Even gods can be transparent in their affections.”
