Page 242 of The Ascended
"You have courage, Thais Morvaren. Throwing my own principles in my face." He resumed his pacing, but the energy had shifted. "Very well. Let's say I'm inclined to consider your proposal. What assurance do I have that your brother shares your... clarity of purpose?"
"I have nothing but my word. But I know my brother better than I know anyone." I paused, considering. "We've always shared a mental connection. We can hear each other's thoughts when we're close enough. But even from distances, I can feel who he is. Feel his commitment to our goal."
"Very interesting," Morthus mused. "Divine twins often share such a connection, but I have never seen it manifest in mortals…" Morthus trailed off. "Tell me, Miss Morvaren—what do you think my resistance actually wants? What world do we envision after Olinthar falls?"
The question caught me off guard. "I... assumed you wanted his throne. To rule in his place."
"If I’m merely replacing one tyrant with another, why wouldanyone risk everything to follow me?" His voice carried an edge of offense. "Do you think so little of our cause?"
"Then tell me."
Morthus's expression shifted. "We seek an end to the Trials of Ascension. No more tearing children from their families. No more arbitrary tests of worthiness that leave villages mourning their best and brightest."
He gestured broadly. "For millennia, the divine realm has hoarded magic, but the universe has a way of balancing itself. I believe there is a reason that our power bleeds."
"Barriers should not be walls," he continued, his voice gaining strength. "They should be doorways. Magic should flow naturally, available to any with the talent and will to wield it."
I found myself leaning forward, caught by the unexpected nobility of his vision.
"The mortal realm has beauty," Morthus said, his tone softening. "But also unnecessary strife. Poverty. Disease. Suffering that continues not because solutions don't exist, but because we choose to withhold them."
"We have the collective power to change everything. To guide rather than rule. To lift up rather than lord over." His eyes blazed. "That is the world we fight for. That is why Olinthar must fall. He represents the old way—power through fear, control through separation."
"Then we definitely want the same thing," I said. "So why kill one of your greatest potential assets?"
"Because passion without loyalty is simply another form of chaos," Morthus replied. "Because?—"
"Or perhaps," a new voice interrupted, silk-smooth and gently amused, "we could take a different approach."
The doors had opened without sound, and Osythe stood framed in the entrance, her presence immediately softening the harsh edges of the room. She moved forward, and I noticed how even the darkness seemed to part before her.
"Forgive my intrusion," she said, though her tone suggested she wasn't sorry at all. "But I couldn't help overhearing. The palace does carry sound so distinctly at night."
Morthus's expression transformed at her presence, the tension leaving his face. "Osythe."
"My love." She glided to his side, her hand briefly touching his arm—a gesture so simple grounding the Lord of Death in something beyond his title. Then she turned to me. "You're thinking too short-term, dear."
"I want Olinthar dead," I said bluntly.
"You want him dead quickly," Osythe corrected. "We want him removed permanently. These goals aren't mutually exclusive, but they require a different timeline than what you're envisioning."
She began to circle me slowly, and for a moment, I wondered if she was the ruling power here. "What if, instead of acting rashly after the Trials, you and your brother joined us properly? Became part of the longer strategy?"
"You want us to wait?" The idea chafed against every instinct screaming for immediate revenge.
"I want you to be smart." Osythe paused before me. "Think what Thatcher could learn. What information he could gather. Olinthar will try to win him over, to mold him into the weapon he needs."
Understanding dawned cold and clear. "You want Thatcher to let him think he's succeeding."
"An eye on the inside," Osythe continued, her voice painting possibilities. "Someone who could discover weaknesses, map alliances, identify vulnerabilities. Someone who could get close enough when the moment is perfect."
"That's what he's been doing."
"Then he should continue. He might just be the key that unlocks Olinthar's downfall." She smiled kindly. "Your revenge served cold, but all the more satisfying for the wait."
The words settled over me. All this time, Thatcher and I had been racing toward our revenge, never truly expecting to emerge from theother side. Death had always been the ending to our story—the price we'd accepted the moment we'd made our pact. There had never been an after in our plans. Just the mission. Just the vengeance.
But what Osythe was offering... it was something I'd never dared imagine. A way to destroy Olinthar and live.
