The Ascended — Chapter no 31

Chapter 31

Currents of Memory

VIOLENT CURRENTS TORE AT MY LIMBS, THREATENING TO RIP THEM FROM their sockets. My body twisted in directions it was never meant to bend, pressure crushing my chest until I couldn't remember what breathing felt like. The enchantment on my throat burned with freezing fire, struggling to

process the water churning around me.

Then came the visions.

The cyclone's eye trapped me in unnatural stillness, a pocket of impossible calm surrounded by raging chaos. The water shimmered, and suddenly I was surrounded by translucent figures—people in elaborate clothing walking through markets, living their lives in a city not yet claimed by the sea.

A girl chased a boy through what must have been a plaza, both laughing silently. Merchants haggled over glowing crystals and bottles filled with shimmering concoctions. Priests in ceremonial robes processed toward a temple.

Thalor appeared above the city, massive beyond comprehension, water swirling around him in impossible patterns. His form blocked out the evening sunset, casting the entire city in shadow. Below, priests scrambled in panic, some falling to their knees in prayer while others ran for the temples.

Without warning, he raised his arms. Water materialized from nothing— walls of it, torrents beyond imagining. The deluge crashed down on Memorica with divine fury. Buildings crumbled under the impact. Streets

became rivers, then rapids, then deadly currents that swept away everything in their path. People ran, screamed, prayed—but there was nowhere to escape.

A voice whispered through the water, through my bones: The city remembers its death.

The vision shifted to a map—pulsing light showing three distinct locations within the ruins. Temple. City center. Amphitheater. Each marked with different keys.

Every truth costs something. The question is what you'll pay.

My fear, which had been simmering just beneath the surface, suddenly exploded—primal and overwhelming. It clawed up my throat and squeezed my lungs until I couldn't breathe. The cyclone wasn't just showing me visions, it was feeding on my terror, amplifying it a thousandfold.

The eye of the storm collapsed.

I was ejected with violent force, tumbling through water until I slammed against stone. Pain blossomed across my shoulder, but the physical hurt was nothing compared to the paralysis of absolute terror gripping my limbs.

A beast loomed above me—no longer the shark-like shadow from before, but an ancient monstrosity the size of a ship. Its skin was obsidian scales layered over each other like armor, its teeth longer than my forearm and sharp as knives.

My fear given flesh and purpose, grown to nightmarish proportions.

I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Could barely process that I was still alive as the creature circled above, its massive tail creating currents that pushed me against the ruined wall at my back. Every instinct screamed to

flee, but my body refused to obey.

The beast dove.

Survival instinct finally broke through my paralysis. Starlight exploded from my fingertips, coalescing into a shield just as those terrible jaws snapped closed. Teeth scraped against light, the impact sending me tumbling backward through the water.

The monster circled for another pass, faster this time.

I forced myself to breathe, to think past the blind terror flooding my system. The shield wouldn't hold against another direct hit. I needed to fight back.

The starlight shifted in my hands, flowing like liquid until it hardened into a massive blade that gleamed with cold brilliance. The water around me seemed to constrict, every inch of my skin alive and screaming with awareness of the danger.

The beast charged again, jaws wide enough to swallow me whole.

I met it head-on.

My blade sliced through scales that should have been impenetrable, opening a massive gash along the creature's side. It thrashed in pain, black blood spilling from the wound and dissolving into the water. I felt a strange echo of that pain in my own side, a phantom burning that made me gasp.

The balance tipped inside me—paralyzing terror receding just enough to let rage take its place. This thing had tried to kill me. This manifestation of my own fear thought it could consume me.

"You came from me," I snarled, the words distorted by water but charged nonetheless. "You are mine to control!"

The beast recovered, circling again but more cautiously now. Its wound left a trail of dissolving darkness in its wake. I could feel the connection between us—a tether that grew stronger as my understanding deepened.

It attacked again, coming at me from below. I twisted aside, my blade carving another gash through its hide. The phantom pain flared in my abdomen, but I pushed through it, riding the rush of battle-clarity.

When it came at me a third time, I met it with vengeance. My star-blade sliced clean through its massive body, the wound searing with celestial fire.

The beast convulsed, thrashing wildly as light consumed it from within.

Then it stilled, hanging in the water for one suspended moment before dissolving completely. Not a single scale remained to mark its existence.

Victory surged through me, fierce and triumphant. I'd defeated my own fear, conquered the monster the trial had created from my weakest emotion.

I felt lighter, clearer, as if a weight I'd carried my entire life had suddenly

been lifted.

Thatcher.

I reached for our bond, immediately feeling his relieved response.

Thais! Where are you? Are you hurt?

I'm fine, I sent back. Better than fine, actually. The cyclone showed me where to find the keys—whisper keys at the temple, memory keys at the city center, echo keys at the amphitheater. And Thatcher, I saw what happened to Memorica.

What do you mean?

It was Thalor. He drowned it.

A pause. But why?

I don’t know.

We've been searching for you, Thatcher continued. Marx's with me. We'll find you and go together.

No time, I responded, already swimming with purpose. Meet me at the temple. I'm going ahead.

Thais, wait! It's dangerous to go alone— I'll be fine, I cut him off, impatient. See you there.

I ignored his continued protests, pushing forward with single-minded determination. Why wait when I could be collecting keys?

The temple rose before me—a massive stepped pyramid with carved figures adorning its sides. Unlike the rest of Memorica's coral and crystal architecture, this structure was darker, older, built from volcanic stone.

I swam inside without hesitation, entering a vast hall supported by columns carved to resemble ancient sea creatures. Pale green light filtered through gaps in the ceiling, creating dappled patterns across the stone floor.

Whispers surrounded me, coming from everywhere and nowhere—some in languages I recognized, others in sounds no normal throat could make.

The disorienting mass of voices made it difficult to concentrate, but I pressed on, searching for the keys. Corridors branched in multiple directions, each leading deeper into the temple's shadowy interior. I chose one at random, following it until it opened into a circular chamber dominated by a stone altar.

There—hovering above the altar—a whisper key rotated slowly in the current. Its opalescent surface constantly shifted between solid form and streams of tiny silver bubbles that dissolved before escaping its influence.

I smiled, swimming forward with confident strokes.

Just as my fingers were about to close around it, movement flashed in my peripheral vision. I twisted aside just in time to avoid the spear of translucent matter that shot through the water where I'd been moments before.

A contestant hung in the doorway. I recognized him instantly. Vance.

The energy-wielder from the Proving. The one whose power had erupted in deadly bursts. The one I'd nearly killed before Miria stopped us. His hands pulsed, spheres of purple-white energy swirling around his fingers.

"Well," he said, voice distorted but clearly pleased. "If it isn't the star girl. Miria isn't here to save you this time."

I laughed. "I don't need saving. But you might."

"That’s mine," he said, nodding toward the whisper key. "Leave now,

and I might let you live."

"You're welcome to try and take it."

He attacked without warning, launching three energy bursts in rapid succession. The orbs streaked through the water, leaving trails of superheated bubbles in their wake. I called starlight to my hands, forming a shield that the projectiles slammed against. The impact sent shock waves through the water, but my shield held.

Before he could form more, I counterattacked, hurling a sphere of compressed starlight toward him.

Vance dodged, but barely—the sphere clipped his shoulder, spinning him through the water. His face contorted with pain and rage as he steadied himself.

"You'll regret that," he snarled, spreading his arms wide. Power surged from his hands in a concentrated beam that caught me directly in the chest, sending me tumbling backward. Every nerve in my body fired at once, muscles contorting in agony as shocks coursed through me. My limbs refused to obey, temporarily paralyzed by the overload.

"Not so confident now, are you?" Vance taunted, gathering a spear of energy between his palms. "I've wanted to finish this since the Proving." I struggled against the paralyzing effect, my muscles twitching uselessly as he approached. "I've been looking forward to this," he said, positioning the spear directly over my chest.

Suddenly, the water around us churned violently. Massive jaws snapped shut inches from where Vance hovered, barely missing him. His concentration broke, and the paralyzing effect caging me shattered instantly.

Vance's eyes widened in shock as an enormous leviathan emerged from the depths, its ancient scales gleaming in the murky water.

"Damn it!" Vance snarled, the energy spear dissipating as he twisted away from a second attack. The leviathan's massive tail whipped through the water, creating a current that sent Vance tumbling backward. He regained his balance quickly, eyes darting between me and the beast before making his decision. "This isn't over," he hissed, then propelled himself upward with a burst of energy, disappearing into the darkness above.

I raised my blade, ready to face the leviathan, when a figure swam into view. "Put that down before you hurt yourself," Marx said, her voice distorted through the water. Her expression was unimpressed.

The leviathan circled back to hover protectively behind her. Its spine- covered back rippled as it moved, eyes burning like embers in its massive head.

"I had it under control," I replied, though even I knew that was a lie.

"Clearly." Marx's sarcasm was in full force. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone?"

Before I could answer, Thatcher arrived, his face a storm of worry and anger. "Thais! What were you—" He stopped abruptly, taking in the blood- clouded water and the remains of the fight. "Gods. What happened?"

"Your sister decided to get herself killed," Marx said flatly. "I intervened."

Thatcher grabbed my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. "What's wrong with you? Why would you rush off alone like that?"

"We need the keys," I said, confused. "I knew where to find them. Why wait?"

"Because it's dangerous!" he exploded. "Because you could have died!

Don't you understand that?"

I blinked.

Marx narrowed her eyes, studying me. "How did you know where to find the keys?"

"The cyclone showed me," I explained. "While I was trapped inside."

"It just gave you this information?" Marx asked, suspicion edging her voice.

I frowned, considering. "Well, it certainly didn't come for free. My fear was magnified while I was inside. Made it almost unbearable. When it finally ejected me, the shark from earlier was waiting—but so much larger this time. Massive, the size of a ship. I suppose it fed on all of that fear while I was inside."

"And where is this monster now?" Marx asked, looking around as if expecting to see it lurking nearby.

"I destroyed it," I said with a small smile. "Cut it clean through. It dissolved into nothing."

Marx's eyes widened. "You killed your own fear manifestation?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

Marx and Thatcher exchanged a look.

"Thais," Thatcher said carefully, "just now, during the fight—were you

scared at all?"

I considered the question. "No. Why?"

"He nearly killed you," Thatcher pointed out. "Most people would find that frightening."

Marx's face shifted with sudden understanding. "You killed your fear."

The realization dawned on me slowly. "Is that possible?"

"Not just your fear," Thatcher said grimly. "Your sense of self- preservation. That's why you charged in here alone, why you fought so recklessly." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You're not just fearless—you're incapable of recognizing danger."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I argued. "Fear holds us back."

"Fear keeps you alive," Thatcher countered. "It stops you from taking stupid risks—like attacking a man who could disable you completely without backup."

"Good thing I was following her," Marx interjected dryly. "Well, me and Bertha here." She patted the massive leviathan's side, and it rumbled in response. "Turns out when you've seen the worst the world has to offer, rage becomes just another tool. No emotion needed."

"So you feel nothing?" Thatcher asked.

Marx shrugged. "I feel plenty. I just don't let it control me. In turn, I can control Bertha." She gestured to the whisper key still hovering above the altar. "Now, are we going to claim that or keep chatting about our feelings?"

I swam to the altar and reached for the key. The whispers intensified as my fingers approached, though no specific words were discernible. But when I touched its surface, I heard them—fragmented confessions in different voices: "We sold what should never be sold…" "The gold was worth more than faith…" "Forgive us, we have corrupted sacred trust…" "Divine knowledge for mortal coin…"

The voices faded as I placed the key in its container and sealed it tight.

One whisper key secured.

"There has to be more," Thatcher said, already moving deeper into the temple.

We followed him through winding corridors, the whispers growing louder with each turn. Thatcher's movements were cautious, checking

corners before proceeding.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he informed me as we swam. "Not until we find a way to restore your fear."

"If we can," Marx muttered, low enough that only I heard.

The temple descended into darker depths, corridors leading downward until we reached a section that appeared partially buried in sand. The whispers here were different—intertwined with what sounded like cries for help.

"Something's wrong," Thatcher said, pausing at the entrance to a large chamber.

I peered past him and saw the reason for his concern. Kyren was backed against a far wall, facing off against a massive crocodile-like beast with too many teeth and scales that shifted color. Kyren himself was flickering between different forms—sometimes solid, sometimes transparent, sometimes appearing to be in multiple places at once.

"Illusions," Marx said, watching the display with narrowed eyes. "He's trying to confuse it."

The whispers in the chamber were deafening, making it almost impossible to hear our own thoughts. I spotted what we'd come for—keys floating in alcoves around the room's perimeter, their surfaces rippling with escaping bubbles.

Thatcher grabbed my arm before I could move. "Thais, flank position, but do not move until I give the signal." His eyes bored into mine. "I mean it."

I wanted to argue, but the intensity of his gaze stopped me. "Fine."

"Marx, distraction. Your beast should draw its attention."

Marx nodded, already directing her leviathan forward. "On it."

"And Kyren?" I asked.

"I'll get to him," Thatcher replied. "He needs to calm down—that's his own manifestation attacking him. The more he panics, the worse it gets."

We moved into position, Marx's beast charging forward to engage the crocodile while I circled to the side, keeping to the shadows. Thatcher swam directly toward Kyren, avoiding the clashing manifestation carefully.

He reached Kyren, grabbing the man's shoulders and speaking directly into his face. Though I couldn't hear the words, I could see the effect— Kyren's frantic illusions began to slow, his form solidifying as he focused on Thatcher's voice.

The crocodile responded immediately, its attacks becoming less coordinated, its massive body beginning to lose definition at the edges.

Marx's leviathan drove it back further, giving Thatcher and Kyren space to retreat to safety.

Within minutes, the crocodile had dissolved completely, leaving only swirling currents where it had been. Kyren slumped against Thatcher, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.

"What happened?" I asked as we regrouped.

"Panic spiral," Kyren said wearily. "I’m absolutely terrified of open water."

"You weren't supposed to be the weak link," Marx said, but the edge didn't quite reach her tone.

Kyren straightened, indignation momentarily overriding his exhaustion.

"Weak link? I've already got all three keys."

"What?" Thatcher stared at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, started in the amphitheater where I swiped an echo key off another contestant—never even knew I was there. Then the city center.

Then my manifestation followed me here, where I grabbed the whisper key." He patted a pouch at his side. "All three, secure and ready."

"You got them all on your own?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Don't sound so shocked," Kyren replied with a weak smile. "I'm good at what I do."

"Which is what, exactly?" Marx asked, suspicious.

"Surviving." His smile faded. "The echo keys were the worst. They radiate such loud sounds when you get close—it's like your head is going to explode. My ears were bleeding by the time I shoved it into the container.

Thought I'd never hear again."

"And yet here you are, complaining at full, albeit muffled, volume,"

Marx observed.

Thatcher intervened. "We still need echo keys. We should head to the Amphitheater next."

"Grab your whisper keys," I said, gesturing to the ones still floating in their alcoves.

They all grabbed one, pressing the keys against their ears to listen before sealing them safely in our containers.

"Each key shows something different about Memorica. We need to piece together what happened here." I looked at each of them. "The memory

keys show moments from citizens' lives as the city drowned. The echo keys—"

"Consequences, I think," Kyren interrupted.

"The whisper keys have confessions," Marx added. "Something about selling things that shouldn't be sold."

"And I saw Thalor," I said, watching their reactions. "In the cyclone. He appeared above the city. Then he drowned them all."

Kyren's face paled. "But why?"

"Whatever was sold was clearly dangerous," Thatcher said grimly.

"Enough to warrant this."

"The memory I experienced," I said slowly, "was from someone with ink-stained fingers. I watched someone in turquoise robes—a priest, I think.

He was handing over a scroll in exchange for gold.”

"So they were trafficking divine information," Marx said.

"But we still don't know what exactly," Kyren pointed out, gesturing to the drowned city around us. "The keys show the selling, show the consequences, but not the actual secrets."

"Maybe that's the point," I said, thinking it through. "Maybe we're not meant to know the specifics. Just that some knowledge shouldn't be sold."

"The echo keys will tell us more," Thatcher said.

"Only one way to find out." Marx adjusted her pack. "To the amphitheater. Stay together."

We left the temple and swam through Memorica's ruins, keeping to shadowed pathways and hidden corridors. Twice we had to hide as other contestants passed by—once when we spotted a pair waiting in ambush for an unsuspecting victim.

I wanted to intervene, to stop the ambush before it happened, but Thatcher held me back.

"We don't have time for heroism," he hissed. "We need to get to the echo keys before they're all gone."

"But they're going to kill that person," I argued.

"And that's terrible, but we can't save everyone. Focus on our objective."

I followed Thatcher's lead, swimming past. The sick feeling in my stomach remained, though I couldn't identify it as guilt or shame or something else entirely.

The amphitheater rose before us, its tiered seating surrounding a central stage area. Blood clouded the water near the entrance, turning the crystal- clear sea into a murky red. At least three bodies floated among the ruins.

"It didn't look like this last time," Kyren whispered. "What happened?"

"Everyone coming for the same limited resource," Marx guessed.

We entered cautiously, Thatcher leading with Marx and her beast close behind. I brought up the rear with Kyren, watching for any sign of ambush from behind. The interior was eerily quiet, no music, no sound at all except the subtle current moving through the massive space.

"Where are the keys?" I asked, scanning the tiered seating and central stage area. "I don't see any."

"They've got to be here somewhere," Thatcher insisted. "Spread out, but stay within sight of each other."

We searched methodically, checking alcoves and hidden spaces throughout the structure. Nothing. No sign of the echo keys, no singing crystals, no conch-shaped objects.

"We're too late," Marx finally said. "They're gone."

"We have to keep looking," Thatcher argued.

A sudden scream cut through the water. We spun toward the source— one of the upper tiers where we hadn't yet searched. A contestant thrashed wildly, blood pouring from wounds that appeared out of nowhere. Invisible blades seemed to slice through his body from every direction until he finally went still, his lifeless form drifting slowly downward.

"What the hell was that?" Kyren breathed.

"An echo," Marx said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Look—there!"

She pointed to a shimmer in the water, barely visible.

"The keys are hiding," I realized. "Camouflaged."

"That explains why they're so hard to find," Thatcher said. "And why that contestant died—he must have stumbled into one without realizing what it was. The sound must have defensive properties."

"Which means we need to approach carefully," Marx concluded.

"Kyren, you said they emit painful sounds when you get close," I said.

"Can you hear anything now? Like what you heard earlier? We don’t know what it’s supposed to sound like."

He concentrated, closing his eyes. "Yes… very faint, but it's there. This way."

We followed him toward another tier, moving slowly and carefully. As we approached, a high-pitched whine began to build, starting just at the edge of hearing but quickly becoming painfully loud. Kyren winced,

pressing his hands to his ears.

"It's close," he gasped.

I moved forward, focusing on the shimmering distortion ahead. The sound intensified until it felt like my skull might crack, blood trickling from my ears and dissolving into the water around me. But I pressed on.

Within the sound, I could hear things. The clash of steel on steel, thousands of blades meeting in battle. Horses screaming. The wet sound of spears finding flesh. The roar of fire consuming buildings. Mass prayers turning to mass screams. Marching feet, endless marching feet. And beneath it all, a broken voice: "One deal made in darkness… ten thousand graves…"

My fingers brushed against something solid. The echo key suddenly materialized—a conch-shaped crystal that pulsed with inner light. The sound changed into a thousand voices screaming directly into my brain.

Fighting through the pain, I managed to get the key into its container and seal it tight. Immediately, the sound cut off, leaving blessed silence in its wake.

"One down," I gasped, wiping blood from my ears.

Thatcher went next, following Kyren's directions to another hidden key.

He struggled more than I had, the pain visibly affecting him as he reached for the invisible crystal. When he finally secured it, his face was pale.

"Last one," Marx said grimly, already tracking the third key's location.

She had only taken a few strokes when a massive shadow passed overhead. We looked up to see another contestant swimming above us, accompanied by a beast twice the size of Marx's leviathan. Before any of us could react, the creature dove, jaws wide and teeth gleaming.

Marx's beast intercepted it, the two manifestations colliding in an explosion of red and violet. The impact sent shock waves through the water, knocking us back against the amphitheater's stone seats.

"Go!" Marx shouted, tossing me her last container. "Get my last key!"

And then she moved to direct her Leviathan.

Kyren led me toward the final echo key while Thatcher moved to help Marx. The sound was already building, making my vision blur and my stomach churn. Kyren pointed to a specific spot, unable to approach any closer as the sound threatened to overwhelm him again.

I swam forward, focusing through the pain as blood once more began to trickle from my ears. The key materialized as my fingers touched it, its song so intense I could feel my consciousness slipping. More echoes—more violent deaths.

With the last of my strength, I secured it in its container, silencing the terrible noise.

When I turned back, I saw Thatcher locked in combat with the other contestant—a woman with tentacles of living darkness extending from her hands. One of those tendrils had wrapped around his knee, the skin beneath it turning gray and lifeless. To the left, the massive violet beast clamped down on Marx's leg.

I shot forward without hesitation, star-blade forming in my hand. The woman saw me coming and redirected some of her darkness toward me, but I was too fast, too committed to my attack. Kill her, and the manifestation goes with her. My blade severed the tendril holding Thatcher, then continued through to slice across her arm.

She screamed, dark blood clouding the water between us. Her manifestation disengaged from Marx's beast, returning to defend its creator as she retreated, clutching her wounded frame.

"We've got what we came for," Thatcher gasped, his leg still partially gray where the tendril had touched him. "Let's go!"

We regrouped quickly, swimming as fast as we could out of the amphitheatre. All four of us now had complete sets of keys—one memory, one echo, one whisper. The final stage of the trial awaited.

"The echo keys showed wars, right?" Thatcher said quietly, his voice heavy. "It sounded brutal."

"Whatever divine secrets Memorica sold, it had major repercussions."

Kyren said.

"The voice I heard…" I paused, remembering. "One deal made in darkness… ten thousand graves."

"No wonder Thalor drowned them," Thatcher concluded grimly. "How many people died because priests wanted gold?"

Kyren concluded. "Had to be information that mortals shouldn't have had."

"But we still don't know exactly what kind of secrets," I pointed out.

"What could be valuable enough to risk divine wrath?"

"Whatever it was," Thatcher said darkly, "Thalor found out. And his response was to drown every man, woman, and child in the city."

We swam in silence for a moment, the weight of Memorica's tragedy settling over us.

The Archive loomed in the distance, a massive structure perched at the edge of the shelf break. As we approached, a beam of golden light shot from its apex toward the surface, creating a shimmering pathway through the water.

"It's opening," Kyren said, a mixture of fear and excitement in his voice.

"Whatever's in there," Marx said, "we face it together."

"Together," Thatcher agreed, though his worried gaze lingered on me.

As one, we swam into the Archive, leaving the chaos of Memorica behind. The second I entered, anxiety prickled my neck. Well, so much for being fearless. The archive had clearly returned it to me in all its glory.

Before us was a vast circular chamber descending toward the drop-off.

And then they began to appear. Beings that shared our features, but had the tails of fish. Sirens, ancient and powerful and all-knowing, if the fables were to be believed.

"Welcome, survivors," one of them intoned, its voice perfectly clear.

"You have reached the Archive, but your journey is not complete."

In the center of the chamber, receptacles for the keys were arranged on a circular platform.

The lead siren glided forward, its movements unnaturally fluid. "But first, you must prove you understand why you swim through these ruins.

What truth do the keys reveal?"

I exchanged glances with the others. This was it.

"Memorica was a city of Thalor's faithful," Kyren began slowly. "They served as his priests and record-keepers."

"But they betrayed that trust," Thatcher continued. "They sold divine secrets for gold."

"And those secrets sparked wars," Marx added, her voice grim.

"So when Thalor discovered their betrayal," I finished, "he drowned the entire city. Everyone paid for the priests' greed—even the innocent."

The sirens' bioluminescent patterns pulsed in what might have been approval. "You understand the price of betrayal. Memorica sold truth for gold, and gold became their grave."

“But what were the secrets? What was sold?” Kyren asked, looking between the ethereal beings.

The lead siren's expression grew even more severe. “If mortal ears were not ready for them a century ago, what makes you believe yours are now?”

Another slithered past us, blocking us inside the archive. “This Trial was not about discovering secrets. It was about understanding the weight of them. And that everything comes with a price. Just as the priests learned.”

"Now you face the inverse of their test." The lead siren inched closer.

"You must do what they could not. Give freely what they would have sold.

Sacrifice your most guarded truth."

The sirens circled us, their movements hypnotic. "Prove you can abandon mortal corruption for divine purpose."

"Speak the secret that costs you everything," another intoned. "Only then may you ascend."

We need a plan, Thatcher sent urgently through our bond.

But for once, I had none to offer.