Page 132 of The Ascended
Be careful, Thatcher warned, positioning himself to watch all approaches.
I swam toward the keys, every muscle tensed for an attack that didn't come. As I drew closer, I noticed something strange—images flickering within the crystals' depths, too fast to identify. They created a hypnotic effect, almost pulling me forward against my will.
My fingers closed around the first key, and the world exploded.
Not in fire. Not in destruction. In memory—though clearly not my own.
Young hands. Trembling, ink-stained fingers. Watching an older man in deep turquoise robes accept a heavy purse from a hooded figure. A sealed scroll changed hands.
Reality twisted. A new scene. The same ink-stained hands frantically burning parchment as bells tolled overhead. Water seeping under the door. Rising. Rising too fast. A final prayer to Thalor dying on drowning lips.
The sensory assault was so unexpected, so visceral, that I gasped, water rushing into my mouth and being processed by the enchantment. I had lived someone's death.
Thais!Thatcher's mental voice cut through the flood of images.What's wrong?
I couldn't answer, couldn't form coherent thoughts as the memories continued to assault me.
The key, Thais.
The key. Right. With tremendous effort, I wrenched my focus back to the present. The key was still clutched in my hand, its surface now pulsing with light.
It shows memories, I managed, my mental voice shaking.Memorica's memories. Its death.
Put it in the container, Thatcher urged.I'll get mine now.
My hands trembled as I placed the key in its crystal sphere. Even contained, the key continued to pulse, images still visible within its depths but no longer overwhelming my senses.
Be careful, I said, securing the container in my pack.It's... intense.
Thatcher nodded and began swimming toward the second key, moving with deliberate caution. I watched as he approached, noting how his movements slowed the closer he got, as if pushing through invisible resistance.
When his fingers finally brushed the surface, his body went rigid. His eyes widened, then glazed over.
But something was wrong.
Thatcher's expression transformed into one of pure horror. His mouth opened in a silent scream, bubbles escaping from between his lips. His body convulsed as if trying to pull away from whatever visions the key was showing him, but his hand remained locked onto its surface.
Thatcher!I called through our bond.It's not real. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real!
He gave no indication he'd heard me. His face contorted further, agony etched into every line. What was he seeing? What memories had the key chosen to show him?
That's when I noticed it—a dark shape forming in the water behind him, coalescing from nothing. At first, it was just a shadow, a distortion in the water. But with each passing second, it took on a more defined form—sleek, predatory, with fins and teeth and malice.
I started swimming toward him, intending to break his connection to the key, when something moved in my peripheral vision. I turned to find a creature materializing beside me—a shark with scales like black metal. What froze me in place weren't its rows of teeth or powerful form, but its eyes—indigo eyes identical to my own.
Thatcher, I tried again, fighting to keep my voice steady.You need to let go of the key. NOW.
This time, something got through. He blinked once, twice, then wrenched his hand away as if it had burned him. The key bobbed in the water, momentarily forgotten as he spun around, coming face to face with the creature that had formed behind him.
Don't. Move,I sent, freezing in place myself.We're being circled.
Both creatures were swimming in slow, deliberate patterns around us. They maintained perfect distance, their movements synchronized like a carefully choreographed dance. The one close to Thatcher was different from mine—larger, with armored plates running down its spine, but the eyes were the same. Indigo.
They came from nowhere, Thatcher sent, his mental voice tight.One second nothing, then...
A scream tore through the water—distorted but unmistakable in its agony. I inched my head in the direction. There was a contestant maybe fifty yards away, surrounded by a different monster. A massive, slime-green serpent with a spine-covered back had wrapped itself around him.
The contestant thrashed wildly, his terror evident even at this distance. With each panicked movement, with each bubbled scream, the serpent grew larger, its spines elongating and sharpening.
