Page 129 of The Ascended
She scanned the crowd, her eyes narrowing. "Where's your brother?"
Thatcher caught my eye from where he stood at the water's edge, his expression grim but determined. He made his way over to us, nodding briefly to Marx. "Everyone's tense. Whatever this trial is, it's got people scared."
"Good," Marx said. "Fear makes people stupid. Gives us an advantage."
I was about to respond when someone approached our small group. Kyren. His face was drawn with exhaustion, but his eyes were alert.
"Any idea what we're in for?" he asked, his posture tense.
I exchanged a quick glance with Thatcher. We barely knew Kyren, but he'd proven himself capable in the Hunt.
"Probably as good an idea as you." Thatcher responded. "There was no time to prepare, but at least we're all at the same disadvantage."
The center of the lake erupted—a geyser of water twisting upward in a violent column. It rose nearly sky-high before coalescing into a vaguely recognizable form. Thalor hung suspended above the water's surface. His skin rippled like a disturbed pond, blue-green scales flashing beneath translucent flesh. Water dripped from his fingertips, but never reached the lake below—each droplet freezing in midair before shooting back up to rejoin his body.
"Welcome, survivors." His voice crashed over us, resonating in my chest cavity until I could barely breathe.
The air beside him shimmered, distorting the crystal sky before materializing into another figure that must have been her. Sylphia. She hovered beside Thalor, her silver hair whipping around her face though no breeze touched us on the shore. Where he seemed solid despite his liquid nature, she appeared insubstantial—more suggestion than physical form, edges constantly blurring.
"The city of Memorica awaits," she said. "Ancient and patient in its depths."
"Each contestant must find three keys to unlock the Siren's Archive," Thalor continued.
Light coalesced in his palm, forming a crystalline teardrop that rotated slowly.
"Memory keys," he said, "which preserve the final moments of those who came before."
The first key dissolved as a second formed—this one shaped like a conch shell.
"Echo Keys, which carry the sounds of consequence."
The third key materialized—a perfect sphere that emitted streams of tiny silver bubbles.
"Whisper Keys, which hold the confessions of the drowned."
"Not all will find what they seek," Sylphia's cold voice sliced through my thoughts. "The keys are limited. Fewer than those who stand before us."
A ripple of tension swept through the gathered contestants. Limited keys meant some wouldn't survive—maybe many wouldn't.
Beside me, Kyren swore under his breath. "We need to move fast," he whispered. "We’ll each require our own set. That's twelve keys between the four of us."
I nodded grimly. The math was simple and brutal.
"You'll need these," Thalor said as shadowy attendants moved among us, distributing waterproof packs.
I opened mine to find three crystal containers, each with an intricate locking mechanism. They looked fragile, though I suspected they were anything but. Running my thumb along the smooth surface of one, I watched iridescent patterns ripple across its depths.
"Place each key within its container," Thalor instructed.
And then the water around him began to churn.
"The lake knows what lies beneath your masks," he said, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated in my bones. "Just as it knew the truth of those who came before."
Sylphia drifted closer. "What you've kept inside may become your greatest threat."
"Find the three keys, reach the Archive," Thalor concluded, "but remember—the waters of Memorica do not merely reflect what you are. They release it. And Memorica does not forgive those who hide their nature."
The words hung in the air with an ominous weight I couldn't quite place.
