Page 292 of The Ascended
Silence followed, absolute. I collapsed where the tear in reality had been, hands clawing at solid stone that showed no sign of the horror that had just swallowed my other half.
And then there was a wet cough.
I turned slowly, tears streaming, to see Olinthar struggling to breathe on the temple floor. His golden eyes now, free of silver corruption—found mine. Recognition flickered there. And something else that made my stomach turn—satisfaction. Even dying, even after everything, he looked at me like I was a possession he'd created.
"Thais." Blood bubbled from his lips. "Daughter."
The word made me want to vomit. I stood, each movementmechanical, automatic. A star blade formed in my hand without conscious thought.
"There's the fire." He actually laughed, blood spattering the floor.
The blade rose. Its light reflected in those golden eyes—eyes that showed no remorse, no regret, no feelings at all.
"You're nothing." I choked out.
"Am I?" His lips curved in a smile that made me want to scrub my skin raw. "I live on in you. In every star you summon. In every breath you take. You'll never be free of me."
I brought the blade down.
Chapter 67
Xül
The temple doors exploded inward.My father and I burst through, death magic already coiling around our hands?—
And froze.
"Stop!" My father's voice carried the weight of mountains, but it came too late.
Thais stood over Olinthar's prone form, a blade of pure starlight slamming through his chest. Blood spurted and pooled beneath the King of Gods, spreading across dark, cracked stone. The air still simmered with residual power.
Thais's eyes found mine across that blood-soaked distance. Empty. Not cold, not defiant—simply empty, as if she'd poured out everything inside her. The star blade flickered once, then dissolved, leaving only the wound it had carved through divinity itself.
She swayed on her feet. I moved before thought, shadows carrying me across the temple in an instant. I caught her as her knees buckled, pulling her against my chest, my hand cradling the back of her head.
"I've got you," I murmured against her hair. "I'm here, starling. I've got you."
"Thatcher." The word came out flat, empty. "He took Thatcher."
“Who?” I asked.
Her fingers curled into my shirt, mechanical, like she was going through motions she'd forgotten the meaning of. Olinthar's blood stained her hands, already drying to rust.
I pressed my lips to her temple, tasting salt and ash. "Tell me what happened. All of it."
She didn't respond.
My father approached Olinthar's body. He knelt, pressing two fingers to the fallen god's throat. The gesture was purely ceremonial—we could all feel the absence where Olinthar's divine presence should have been. That particular flavor of power that had dominated the pantheon for eons, snuffed out like a candle.
"Dead," Morthus confirmed, his voice grave. "Truly and completely dead." He surveyed the carnage—Elysia's body in a pool of blood, the destroyed temple pillars. "What happened here?"
Thais didn't react at first. She stared at the blood on her hands like she didn't recognize it. When she finally spoke, the word came out hollow. "Moros."
The name hit the air like a thunderclap. My father went completely still, the color draining from his face. I felt my own blood turn to ice.
My father spoke. "That's impossible. Moros died in the Sundering. We all felt him die."
Silence. Then, barely audible: "He was inside Olinthar."
