Page 47 of The Ascended
Chavore looked away, then down, clicking his teeth. "Some of us are gifted with abilities that never show outwardly. Less impressive to the eyes, maybe, but oftentimes more useful. I am the Aesymar of strategy, after all. I received that title for a reason." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "But even without that, I could hear your heartbeat from across the training grounds. Could track you through the forest by scent alone if needed. My bones don't break easily, my wounds heal within minutes instead of weeks."
He met my eyes again. "Truthfully, most of us don't have extraordinary offensive powers. That is a rarity among those born in Voldaris. Take Elysia, for instance. She can enchant and glamour, imbue such qualities within others, but that would hardly win in a direct fight. Doesn't matter though—she could still tear someone limb from limb with her bare hands if she chose."
"Good to know," I muttered.
His confidence both reassured and disappointed me. Part of me—the part forged through years of hiding and hatred—wondered if I could end this now. If I could simply choose to lose control once more and take Chavore out. Work my way through the pantheon one dead god at a time until reaching Olinthar himself.
“Alright, enough stalling.” Chavore cracked his neck. “What do you see?”
I focused on him, searching for that connection that had flared to life during Drakor's attack. At first, nothing happened—just him standing before me, waiting expectantly.
Then the world shifted.
His skin became transparent, revealing the network of vessels beneath pulsing with each heartbeat. His organs glowed—familiar shapes I'd only seen in Lira’s anatomical texts.
"I can see you," I whispered, fascination overtaking caution.
Chavore grinned. "Good. Now try that tree."
He pointed toward a massive oak with roots that crawled across the ground like gnarled fingers. I shifted my focus, attempting to pierce bark.
Nothing. Just wood and sap and leaf. The connection that had flowed naturally with flesh refused to extend.
I scowled, pushing harder until sweat beaded across my forehead. The tree remained unchanged, unmoved by my efforts.
"I can't," I admitted, frustration burning my throat.
"Expected," Chavore said, thoughtfulness replacing bravado. "Your power awakened under threat. It manifested to destroy an attacking body. That channel flows open now, but others remain closed to you."
He crouched, fingers brushing the grass beneath our feet. "Begin smaller. Mighty rivers start as springs."
I knelt beside him, pressing my palm against the perfect grass. Each blade stood flawless, untouched by drought or disease. I closed my eyes, reaching for that same connection I'd felt with flesh and blood.
At first, nothing. Then—a spark, tiny but undeniable. A single blade of grass called to me, resonating with the force thrumming in my veins. Unlike the violent storm that had consumed Drakor, this connection whispered.
I traced the flow of nutrients through the single blade, followed water rising from root to tip. Then, with the gentlest thought, I severed it. The blade blackened instantly, curling in on itself like a dying insect.
"Well now," Chavore murmured. "Your talents extend beyond godslaying after all."
I stared at my hands—callused from years of hauling nets and mending sails, now instruments of death.
What else might I accomplish? Where did the boundaries lie?
And how could I wield this against Olinthar?
Possibilities clawed in my mind, dark and potent. If I mastered this power—honed it, strengthened it—I could become the weapon they never expected. Their downfall instead of their pawn.
"We train daily," Chavore declared, slapping my back hard enough to rock me forward. His grin flashed sharp and challenging. "Tomorrow we advance to flowers, then bushes. Eventually trees. Perhaps animals after that. Not my Syrenari, though—I need them functional."
His excitement proved contagious. I found myself returning his smile—genuine, not the calculated mask I'd worn since arriving. For a heartbeat, I almost forgot he was the son of the god who had destroyed everything I loved.
As we walked back toward Bellarium's gleaming towers, I cataloged every detail. Every weakness. Every scrap of information that might prove useful when the time came.
I would master this power. I would learn Bellarium's secrets. I would discover Olinthar's vulnerabilities.
For Thais. For Sulien. For the family we'd lost and the vengeance we'd pledged.
Worth dying for.
