Page 300 of The Ascended
Heron.
His milky white eyes found me with their uncanny accuracy, and a gentle smile touched his weathered face. He looked different from the last time I saw him.
"Thais," he said, inclining his head. "It's good to see you again."
"Heron." I returned the greeting with the same mild tone I used for everything now. "You're far from the desert."
"Indeed." He stepped aside to let me approach my door. "Though distance means less than it used to, these days."
"How did you find me?"
"The threads of fate lead everywhere, if one knows how to follow them." He offered a small smile.
A beat passed. Then another.
“Is there something you want, Heron?”
“I was hoping you’d invite me in, if it’s a relatively good time, of course.”
The door swung open, and I gestured for him to enter. "Tea?"
"Please."
We settled in my sitting room. It had come with furniture and dressings. The same ones that drenched the rest of this sunlit domain.
"I was sorry to hear about your father," I said, setting a cup before him.
Heron's expression shifted minutely. "He fell the moment Moros vanished. Simply... ceased. One heartbeat to the next." He took the cup with steady hands. "A peaceful end, all things considered."
I nodded, sipping my tea.
"Morthus paid me a visit after that." A wry smile touched his lips. "Offered me my father's position. The chance to ascend properly." He gestured at himself. "As you can see, I accepted."
"Aesymar of Fate." I sipped my own tea. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." He studied me with those unseeing eyes that saw too much.
We sat in silence for a moment.
"How are you managing?" he asked finally. "The transition to godhood can be... overwhelming."
"Fine." The word came out flat. "Everything's fine."
"Ah." He nodded sagely. "The same 'fine' my mother used when I accidentally set her herb garden on fire trying to divine which plants would survive the winter. None of them did."
"You can see fate but couldn't see that coming?"
"Fate and common sense are distant cousins at best." He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Besides, I was twelve. And blind. The fire was really more impressive than destructive, all thingsconsidered."
"How does a blind twelve-year-old accidentally start a fire?"
"With remarkable creativity and gross misunderstanding." He smiled at the memory. "I thought if I concentrated hard enough on seeing the future, the universe would show me through... other means. Turns out the universe's idea of other means involved a magnifying glass I didn't know I was holding and some very dry rosemary."
"That's..."
"My mother made me replant everything by touch alone." He chuckled. "Taught me that fate rarely reveals itself through dramatic gestures. Usually it's more subtle. A thread out of place. A pattern where there shouldn't be one."
I set down my cup. "Is there a point to this story, Heron?"
