Page 58 of The Ascended
Blood and Bargains
Nearly a week had passedsince that first brutal lesson on the beach, and my body bore the evidence of every single day. Purple bruises bloomed across my ribs. Fresh cuts layered over half-healed ones, creating a map of pain across my arms and shoulders. My muscles screamed in protest with every movement, yet somehow I kept getting stronger.
Each dawn brought the same ritual—Xül lounging against his rocks while I faced whatever horrors he summoned from the black sand. Soul after soul clawed their way from the earth, weapons drawn. And each day, I cut them down.
He hadn't summoned Thatcher again. Not once since that first lesson. Just the mindless, empty souls.
My skill had improved dramatically—faster than should have been possible. My body learned the deadly dance of combat. Parry, riposte, strike. Duck, roll, thrust. My star-sword moved like an extension of my will.
At least Xül was keeping his promise. I was being forged into something dangerous.
But I hated every minute of it. Hated him for his tauntingcommentary as I bled. Hated the way he watched my struggles with detached amusement. Hated that yesterday, when a soul's blade had found my throat and I'd dropped my weapon in exhaustion, the creature had simply... stopped. Pulled back instead of finishing me.
It’s not that I wanted to die. But living by the grace of Xül’s mercy wasn’t exactly enticing either.
Now I sat at the far end of the massive dining table, picking at roasted meat, appetite completely gone. Xül occupied the opposite end of the room, long legs propped up on the polished wood, absorbed in whatever book held his attention tonight.
Neither of us bothered to speak.
A servant appeared from the corridor, approaching Xül with a sealed envelope. He accepted it without looking up from his book, but I caught the slight raise of his eyebrow as the servant scurried away.
The sound of tearing parchment cut through the quiet. Xül's golden eye moved across whatever message lay within, his expression unreadable. Then, with casual dismissal, he tossed the letter down the length of the table. It slid across the polished surface, coming to rest just within my reach.
"First trial," he said, not bothering to look at me. "Davina and Thorne."
I stared at the elegant script, trying to make sense of the formal language. "What do you mean?"
Xül's sigh carried the weight of profound irritation. "Must I explain everything to you as if you were a child?"
I bit back the sharp retort that wanted to spill from my lips. I needed information more than I needed the satisfaction of telling him exactly what I thought of his attitude.
"The Trials," he said, words clipped, "are overseen by pairs of The Twelve.” He turned a page with deliberate slowness. "Four pairs, eight gods total for each cycle. Olinthar selects them himself—a privilege he reserves as King of Gods."
"Only eight?" I asked. "Not all twelve?"
"Some sit out each cycle. It's... political." His mouth twisted in distaste. "Those who've fallen from favor are excluded. Those whose powers Olinthar wishes to showcase are included. The combinations shift each time, ensuring that what worked in previous Trials becomes useless knowledge."
"So how do we prepare for something we can't predict?"
"We don't." Another page turned. "We make educated guesses based on the personalities and domains involved, then hope we've anticipated correctly."
I leaned forward, studying the letter more carefully. The formal seal, the precise handwriting, the date that was only seven days away. "We only have a week."
"Your powers of observation are truly remarkable."
The sarcasm made my jaw clench. "What would Davina and Thorne create together?"
Xül closed the book he'd been reading, setting it aside. "Actually, we're lucky with this pairing." Satisfaction dripped from every word. "Nature and alchemy—it's something I can train and prepare you for."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. "You sound almost optimistic."
"Don't mistake pragmatism for optimism, starling." He sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of the other trial combinations are too ambiguous to properly teach you anything specific at all. They have a tendency to prefer that."
"So what do we focus on?" I asked.
"Davina values respect for the natural order above all else," he said, his tone suggesting I should already know this. "She despises those who seek to dominate rather than harmonize with nature. Her Trials typically involve survival skills, adaptation, proving you understand your place."
"And Thorne?"
