Page 19 of Ascension

Mavros for one, sequesters himself in his office, only allowing the brightest, most promising students to gain an audience with him. The professors are no better, using most students to see what sort of advantage they can earn them in society, rather than really being there to aid them in their journey as Mavros proclaims so vehemently.

“Our first years will be learning about our society, history, and hierarchy while practicing to control your powers. After successfully completing your examinations, we will hold our Ascension ceremony. Where we will be unlocking your magic and finding your lineage.”

I roll my eyes at the absurdity of the entire academy. Gods do not have academies. We grow up learning to use our powers. Strengthening our abilities as we grow older. These students should all have their bracelets removed and start using their powers immediately. Our failures only make us stronger. The real world will eat all of them up. No one is out there to hold your hand until you’re ready.

Your successes are measured by how many times you get back up after getting knocked down. Not by your grade in yoga or whatever equally bullshit classes they’ve come up with in the past hundred years. A hundred years, it indeed has been that long since I was forced to walk these halls. Every god is tasked to watch over the academy once every hundred years. I grit my teeth, my thoughts moving to Osias. Of course, he has never been forced to perform this asinine task.

“I know many of you are still adjusting to the fact that one of your parents is an almighty and powerful god. After the Ascension ceremony, your education will be focused towards your strand of power, teaching you to hone and perfect your natural magic.” Mavros walks across the stage, his voice magically projecting across the auditorium. My stomach sours from the bright and cheery tone he uses.

“However, we cannot introduce you to the gods before your Ascension. Every year there are four gods allowed in the academy, tasked with seeking out students from the mortal realm and protecting our school.” His gaze flicks to me, surprisingly not as intimidated as he should be. My eyes narrow at him, and I bare my teeth in a challenge, holding his gaze until he breaks the contact—eyes roaming around the room, before landing back on the students once more. Most demigods are unable to maintain my gaze for more than a second. I open my senses, attempting to find anything off about the headmaster. Never having met him prior. I scan him over. Even the last headmaster had never tried something so suicidal.

I start with the headmaster, pulling my focus to him. I don’t sense anything off. A strong demigod is the only power I sense, diluted from the strength of a god, muted from his human ancestry. I pull my senses from him, scanning over the room again. There are small power signals from the professors, nothing as high as the headmaster or any god for that matter.

I pick up a few jumps from those already passed their Ascension, but most are first years, their powers still locked. Suddenly, a pull grips me. I grit my teeth, fighting against the foreign sensation. As though a string attached itself to my middle, it drags me forward, driving me to search for the source.

My eyes widen as the realization hits me, this is no magic, at least none that means me harm. I scan the students, unable to pinpoint precisely where the pull is driving me. I stand up straight. All of my focus zeros in on the source.

Frantically scanning the crowd, I try to focus on each person but find no luck. I shake my head, dismissing the urge to climb up onto the stage and kick the headmaster off so I can search each face. Obviously, the backs of their heads are doing me no good. All thoughts of my previous task fly out the window and I clench my fists in frustration, brows drawing together.

A male student raises his hand in the air, interrupting the headmaster without being called upon and pulling me from my thoughts.

“When will we be able to see our parents again?” He will learn quickly. The best way to impress a high-ranking demigod or god is to never interrupt them. Mavros’ eyes flash to his, narrowing in a glare before he quickly schools his face, a serene smile spreading over his features. His body language relaxes. The expression changes so swiftly I doubt anyone else would have noticed.

I narrow my eyes on him, his attitude exactly what I would have expected. The part puzzling me is that he would even attempt to cover it up. If it had been me up on that stage, I would have scared the respect back into him.

“You will not be able to visit your mortal parent until the end of your time at the academy. As demigods, we can experience the world as a mortal for our first nineteen years. Our mission is to fully immerse you in the godly aspect of your being to prepare you for the rest of your immortal lives. This means that you know and understand each world separately and can fit your lives between the two after your relatively short time here,” Mavros explains, projecting his voice to the entire auditorium. Eyes moving across the crowd before focusing back on the male student.

“I was about to explain, you will get to meet your godly parent after the Ascension. The Ascension ceremony will determine which god is your parent. They will be contacted and allowed to come to the academy to meet you after the ceremony concludes.”

I continue eying Mavros critically. He should tell these students the truth. They will find out who their godly parent is. However, over half of them will typically not attend the academy to meet their progeny.

Most gods feel like it’s their duty to couple, resulting in a line of demigods under their power. I, however, have never put myself in a position where a progeny would be born from coupling for this exact reason.

The annoying student and his inane questions are disrupting my search. The search for my mate. The mate bond is so rare, most believe the connection has died out. Each god has a mate, who may be a fellow god or a demigod. There are only a handful of pairs that have found their other part. Many give up on finding theirs.

The pull towards each other is magnetic and unmistakable. I feel it in my bones that my mate is in this room. I position myself near the exit, ready to scan each student as they leave but stay far enough away to remain inconspicuous, not wanting to scare every student as they walk by me.

I grind my heel hard into the floor impatiently, crossing my arms. My muscles tense, threatening to break the leather armor strapped around my arms. This headmaster sure is a talker. For a brief moment, I consider physically removing him from the stage before thinking better of it. I would most likely miss her in the mass exodus if I allowed myself to give in to that rage.

“There will be many questions that arise during the next few weeks. Your professors will do their best to answer them through their courses. However, if you haveanythingyou may wish to discuss, please do not hesitate to come to see me in my office. My door is always open.” He emphasizes the word anything, giving an overly kind smile.

My lips lift into a sneer, my brow lowering as he continues to waste my time. As though sensing my ire, his attention quickly flashes to me, the smile dropping for a brief moment before sliding greasily back onto his face.

“I would like to wish you all the best of luck on your new journey. The path forward may seem unclear now. However, you must trust that you will find your light along the way. Welcome to your new home, Osias Academy.” He takes a deep bow as applause thunders around the room, some students standing, their smiles bright as they clap enthusiastically.

Others are still in a daze, slowly moving their hands together with barely a noise, struggling to reconcile this information with their concept of reality. It was those students that I understood. No sane person would be able to exude that much excitement when their world had just been turned upside down.

Mavros waves once more at the crowd before strutting off the stage. Not caring what happens next now that the spotlight has shifted from him, he makes a quick exit out the back doors. A tall red-headed professor scrambles up onto the stage, looking perplexed as she repeatedly checks back to the door, an anguished look on her face when she doesn’t see the headmaster come strolling in once more.

She rushes to center stage. The students are now speaking excitedly over one another, the sea of voices causing a throbbing ache in my skull. Clutching a microphone in one hand—her books and papers spilling over, tucked into her elbow—she struggles to push up her large gold-framed glasses, knocking the microphone against them. A screech echoes through the auditorium, causing a wave of students to raise their hands to their ears, finally silencing the overexcited crowd.

“I know everyone is excited, but your morning classes will be starting in twenty minutes. I need everyone to please make your way out of the auditorium in an orderly fashion.”

Students begin chatting excitedly at her words once more. The professor tries to get the students’ attention, to no avail, as they all stand at once, cramming into the small aisle and rushing towards the door. I grit my teeth as she scrambles off the stage, attempting to organize the other professors. Most just roll their eyes and ignore her, continuing with their own conversations.

I focus my attention on the students funneling out of the now open auditorium doors. My annoyance ratchets up at the disaster the professor caused. It will be nearly impossible to locate my mate now. I draw in a grounding breath, focusing my energy on the stream of students. Most give me a wide berth as they struggle to fit through the exit.

I still feel the pull, yet it hasn’t moved closer. Not wanting to shift my attention for too long, I focus on the energies from the students walking past me, scanning them as most give me terrified glances, as they pass me and creating a bottleneck at the doors.

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