Page 175 of The Ascended
"No," he countered. "It's not the same. I've accepted certain realities of my position, yes. The political necessities of being Morthus's heir. But that's different from surrendering to death."
"Is it?" I challenged. "You're giving up your chance at happiness, at a life you actually want. How is that any different?"
He stepped closer. "Because I'm still fighting for something bigger than myself. For change that I hope will outlive me. What are you fighting for, Thais? If you've already decided you're going to die, what's the point of any of this?"
I was fighting for something, just something I couldn’t tell him. But his words resonated deeper than I wanted to admit. I'd spent so long believing my death was inevitable—the only possible conclusion to the path I'd chosen. What would it mean to challenge that belief? To fight not just for vengeance, but for a future beyond it?
"I should warn you," I said, attempting to steer the conversation away from the cliff we were nearing, "I'm not very good at hope. It's never served me well in the past."
"Hope isn't something you're good or bad at," he said. "It's a choice you make every day. Sometimes every hour."
I studied him, trying to reconcile this Xül with all the other versions he had shown me. "You’re quite complex, Warden," I observed.
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Perhaps. Or maybe you're finally seeing what I’ve always been."
He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was achingly gentle, at odds with the deadly power I knew those hands possessed.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I think the world would be poorer without Thais Morvaren in it."
I didn't know how to respond. Every retort or deflection died on my lips, leaving only raw truth.
"My father used to say that," I admitted.
"Wise man," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "And I assure you, Thais—I am very rarely wrong."
A small laugh escaped me, part disbelief, part something dangerously close to that hope he'd spoken of. "Your humility continues to astound me."
His lips curved into a genuine smile that made him look so young. "One of my many virtues."
"We should continue practicing," I said finally, needing to return to safer ground. "I still have much to learn before this ridiculous ball."
He extended his hand once more, and I took it, allowing him to guide me back into the proper position. For the first time since we’d been forced into these Trials, I found myself wondering what it might be like to survive. To actually live beyond what was to come. It was a dangerous thought.
Yet as Xül guided me through the steps, his hand warm and steady at my waist, I couldn't quite banish it from my mind.
Chapter 41
Asteria
I woke with a start,my heart hammering against my ribs as my eyes flew open. Golden light poured through towering arched windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, bathing the room in a warm glow. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, couldn't think as I took in the opulent space around me.
Every surface gleamed with intricate gold trim and ornate carvings. The bed beneath me was massive, draped in silks that shimmered like pearls in the light, so soft against my skin that it felt like sleeping on a cloud.
I bolted upright, flinging the covers aside as I scrambled out of bed. My bare feet hit polished wooden floors. I raced to the nearest window, my breath catching in my throat as I pressed my palms against the cool glass.
Below me, billowing clouds breathed across the endless expanse, their white forms sighing and shifting.
"What?" I whispered, my breath fogging the glass.
I spun around, and spotted a massive door carved with intricate patterns. Without hesitation, I sprinted across the room and yanked it open, only to freeze at the sight of Lyralei and her team ofDreamweavers waiting in the hallway, their expressions a mixture of amusement and expectation.
"Welcome to Asteria," Lyralei said with a formal nod, extending a shimmering silk robe toward me. Her tone was professional, but her eyes seemed tight, almost weary.
I took the robe with trembling fingers, wrapping it around my nightgown-clad body. "Asteria? As in?—"
"Syrena's home," she confirmed. "The Domain of Dreams.”
The Dreamweavers beckoned me to follow them, and with little choice, I did. We moved through winding corridors where mist from the surrounding clouds seemed to seep through the walls themselves. The hallways were a soft, blushing pink, adorned with gilded appliques. It was like walking through the inside of a seashell, beautiful and disorienting all at once.
