Page 36 of The Ascended
Like a key turning in a lock, everything shifted.
Olinthar.
The name blazed through my mind. The King of Gods. The one who'd set this whole nightmare in motion before we were even born. Every loss, every death, every moment of terror—it all led back to him.
My hands trembled.
We were probably going to die. In the Trials, by execution, by ascension—it didn't matter. Our deaths were already written. But what if?—
What if I rewrote the ending?
I had to grip the couch to keep from doubling over. Not justrevenge. Not just justice. But balance. He'd created us through violence. It seemed fitting that violence would be what destroyed him.
I saw it then. Purpose. A reason for all this pain that went beyond just enduring it.
I'm going to kill him.
The decision didn't feel like a choice. It felt like gravity—inevitable, inescapable. Like it had been waiting inside me since the moment I first learned what he'd done to our mother.
My whole body went rigid. This wasn't just about us anymore. This was about everything. Every blessed child dragged to their death. Every family torn apart. Every prayer to deaf gods.
Thatcher's eyes sharpened on my face. "What?"
"Nothing." The word came out too quick. I turned away, reaching for the bottle again.
"Thais." His hand caught my wrist. "I know that look."
"There's no look."
He studied me with those eyes that had always seen too much. "What is it?"
I pulled free of his grip. "Drop it, Thatcher."
"No." He moved around me, blocking my escape. "Don't shut me out now."
"Some things are better left unsaid."
"Not between us." His voice went quiet, dangerous. "Tell me what you’re thinking about."
I met his eyes then, letting him see the resolution growing within me. "Justice."
"Justice?" he echoed.
"Yes."
"Thais—"
"I'm going to kill him." I took a deep breath. "Olinthar."
Thatcher went very still. "That's suicide."
"So is everything else." I shrugged, the gesture sharp. "At least this way, my death means something."
"No." He shook his head, backing away. "No. I'm not losing you to some revenge fantasy."
"It's not a fantasy." I kept my voice reasonable.
"What are you hoping to trigger—some sort of revolution?"
