Page 49 of The Ascended
It was beautiful, certainly. Every room I entered was a masterpiece of architecture and design, flowing lines and organic curves that seemed grown rather than built. But it was also profoundlylonely, in a way that made my chest ache with homesickness for Saltcrest's cramped, chaotic warmth.
The library was on the opposite side of the castle, and I almost missed it in my wanderings. When I finally pushed open the massive oak doors, my eyes trailed across the display in wonder. The space was enormous—books stretching up to a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations I didn't recognize. Floating orbs of pale light drifted between the shelves like lazy fireflies.
A servant was shelving books near one of the massive windows, his movements careful and precise as he placed each volume in its designated spot. He looked up when I entered, bowing slightly.
"My lady," he said softly. "Is there something specific you seek?"
"Just looking around," I replied, wandering closer to examine the titles on the nearest shelf.
The servant continued his work, and I found myself watching him. He was placing books with unusual care. One caught my eye as he lifted it—thick, black leather with silver clasps.
"Quite a collection," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Indeed. King Morthus spent nearly a century gathering these texts from across all the domains. Much of this knowledge exists nowhere else now."
"If these are so precious to Lord Morthus, why are they here instead of... wherever he lives?"
"This was originally a hunting lodge. Given its distance from the capital and its proximity to the Grief Hound territories, it was meant to house important collections in the furthest reaches of Draknavor—the most difficult to access." The servant carefully placed another book on the shelf. "It was never intended as a permanent residence, just a repository for valuable things that needed protection. When Prince Xül ascended, Lord Morthus offered it to him as his own residence."
"Grief Hounds?" I questioned. There were certainly other things I wanted to ask, but those words were completely foreign.
He pressed his lips together and studied thefloor. "Large creatures with dark fur and glowing eyes. They're... complicated beings. While they serve to comfort souls struggling with their transition to death, they can be fiercely protective of their dens. Dangerous to mortals and divine alike if they perceive a threat." He gave me a meaningful look. "That's why we insist guests remain within the castle grounds. The hounds don't distinguish between friend and foe when defending what they consider theirs."
That explained a lot. The isolation, the luxury mixed with the feeling of being cut off from everything. This place was essentially a beautiful prison at the edge of the world.
I kept browsing, trying to look uninterested while watching where he placed each book.
"Must be fascinating reading," I said.
"Not for everyone. Rather dark subject matter. But our Prince does have particular interests." He gestured to the section where he'd been working.
"Am I... allowed to read things like that? Being mortal and all?"
The servant turned to look at me directly, pity carved into his face. "Well, we aren't particularly concerned with this knowledge leaving the divine realm."
"Ah, right," I said, the reality hitting me. "Because I either ascend or die."
The servant simply nodded and continued his work.
I waited until he finished before moving to that section. There—the black leather book I'd seen him place.
The Chronicle of the Last Primordial Conflict.
I pulled it down and opened it randomly. The pages were thick parchment, covered in dense text about beings and powers that no longer existed. I'd heard whispers of the Primordials growing up—stories passed down through generations, bits and pieces that never quite fit together. But mortals had no books from that time, just fragments of tales that had been told and retold until truth and legend blurred together.
This was different. This was detailed. Clinical.
Vivros’s power had grown beyond all natural bounds, standing as the final barrier against the corruption plaguing the divine realms. The conflict was so catastrophic that reality itself fractured. What had once been a single existence split into four separate systems, scattered throughout the Abyss, each cut off from what they had once shared.
I set the first book aside and grabbed another from the same section. More scribbles in the margins. I flipped through frantically.
There—a whole passage dedicated to Cataclysm Incarnate.
Vivros possessed the ability to manipulate all living matter at its most fundamental level. Witnesses described the Primordial as capable of turning a warrior's own blood against them, making their bones brittle as glass.
Gods.
I flipped further.
