Page 253 of The Ascended
Xül let out a sigh and drew the blade across Thatcher's palm. Blood welled.
"By blood bound, by blood sworn," Xül intoned. He made the same cut on his own hand, then pressed their palms together.
Thatcher winced but didn't pull away until Xül released him.
"It's done," Xül said quietly. "After tomorrow's Forging, you'll pledge yourself to Sundralis as planned. Play the loyal subject. Get close to Olinthar. And wait for your moment."
"I know what I’ve agreed to."
"We should all return to our domains." Chavore's voice carried across the chamber. "Until we understand what caused this instability."
The other Legends murmured agreement, already beginning to open portals to their various domains. The antechamber that had felt so oppressive when we arrived now felt fragile, somehow less real.
I saw Chavore across the expanse, his expression shifting from general concern to specific focus as he scanned for his contestant. I wondered what Chavore had done to earn Thatcher’s sympathy. Something we would definitely need to dissect later.
“Hands in pockets, Morvaren.” Xül sauntered off.
Well, that was less dramatic than I was imagining,Thatcher said through our bond.I need to get back to Chavore before he comes looking.
Thatcher squeezed my hand once, then began walking toward his mentor. The distance wasn't far—maybe thirty feet across the antechamber's polished floor.
He made it halfway before the groundsplit.
Not a gradual crack or warning tremor. One moment the floor was solid, the next it was tearing open beneath Thatcher's feet.
And then he was falling.
"Thatcher!" The scream tore from my throat as I lunged forward.
But I was too far away.
I threw myself into a sprint to the fissures edge. I was too late. Then?—
Skeletal hands erupted from the chasm.
They caught Thatcher with surprising gentleness, wrapping around him carefully. Then they lifted, pulling him up from the crack.
Xül stood at the edge. The hands of death were his to command, and he wielded them now, supporting Thatcher’s weight as he clawed his way back to me.
I slammed into my brother before he'd even fully registered his safety, my arms wrapping around him so tightly he grunted.
"I really hate falling," he muttered against my shoulder, his voice shaky despite the attempt at humor.
I pulled back enough to meet Xül's eyes. He simply nodded.
Chavore was there in an instant, hands on Thatcher's shoulders, checking him for injuries. His eyes flicked to Xül, suspicion and gratitude warring in his expression.
"Thank you," he said finally, the words coming out stiff and formal.
Xül inclined his head slightly.
They stared at each other for a moment—two princes. Old rivals. Chavore extended his hand.
Xül took it. The handshake was brief, but it was witnessed by every Legend present, a moment of unity in the face of unprecedented chaos.
Xül stalked over to me. "Come."
I nodded, but my eyes stayed on Thatcher as Chavore led him toward their own portal. My brother looked back once, and I saw my own thoughts reflected in hisexpression.
