The Ascended — Chapter no 65

Chapter 65

Xül

THE CELEBRATION SUFFOCATED ME WITH ITS GILDED PRETENSE. CRYSTAL chandeliers cast fractures of light across faces that had existed for centuries, each smile as hollow as the next. Other Legends moved through the crowd like peacocks, drunk and disorderly, while members of the twelve watched on with barely concealed amusement.

I stood near one of the towering windows, nursing a glass of wine I had no intention of drinking. Through the window, Sundralis sprawled in all its obscene grandeur. It was a revolting place in every sense of the word.

Power from the Forging still lingered in the air, wafting like a current

through the room.

But especially through her.

My eyes found her easily in the masses. Her beauty had always been enough to destroy me. But seeing her now, I was practically rioting to be near her. Trembling in the attempt to not pull her back to Draknavor.

Lingering affects from what I’d done? No. Not based on the way the eyes around her were gawking.

The transformation had refined her into something breathlessly lethal.

That dark hair I'd tangled my fingers in just hours ago was longer now. It cascaded past her shoulders, a waterfall of shadow that nearly reached her waist. The mortal softness had been carved away. That square jaw I'd traced with my thumb was now a blade's edge, defiant and sharp. Stardust clung to the air behind her, suspended motes of light that refused to fall. Each step

left a glittering path that lingered for heartbeats before dissolving—her power so fresh, so uncontrolled that it leaked from her very presence.

Then there were her eyes. Gold had replaced blue. They were feline now, predatory, shrouded by thick lashes.

The freckles I'd memorized, mapped with my mouth in the darkness— even those had transformed. Now they were glittering dust scattered across her skin, making her shimmer with each movement. Each mark a constellation I wanted to trace again, to see if they still tasted of mortality or

if divinity had claimed even that.

She was devastating.

"There you are."

That voice interrupted the fantasy my mind was weaving together.

Nyvora materialized at my side, her approach silent as a hunting cat. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned the celebration entirely."

I didn't turn. "Merely taking a moment."

"Of course." She positioned herself beside me, close enough that her sleeve brushed mine. The contact was deliberate, calculated. Everything with Nyvora was calculated. "The Forging can be overwhelming to witness.

All that raw power, those transformations…"

The words dripped honey, but I heard the hemlock beneath.

"The ceremony is always noteworthy," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

"Indeed." Her fingers found my arm, the touch deceptively gentle.

"Your father and I had the most illuminating conversation earlier. About the importance of… proper timing."

I finally looked at her. Nyvora was undeniably beautiful—all sharp cheekbones and a predator’s smile, her gown shimmering between deep green and gold like scales in sunlight. But her eyes held that familiar

coldness.

"I'm certain he had much to say."

Her laugh grated my nerves. "He's quite eager to see certain arrangements finalized. As is my mother. They seem to think we've delayed long enough." Her grip tightened incrementally. "I'm inclined to agree."

"The realm faces numerous challenges at present," I said carefully.

"Perhaps patience—"

"Patience?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to an intimate murmur that would appear affectionate to any observer. "I've been patient,

my prince. Watching you find excuse after excuse, distraction after distraction. But we both know this dance must end eventually."

I went still at the thought. Because I knew it would end. And it would end today.

"After all," Nyvora continued, her nails pressing just hard enough against my sleeve to be felt, "we wouldn't want any… misunderstandings about where loyalties lie. Not when so much depends on unity between our domains."

A threat wrapped in silk and perfume. How perfectly Nyvora.

"Of course not," I murmured.

"Wonderful." She released my arm, but only to link hers through mine.

"Then you won't mind accompanying me for the next dance. People should see us together, don't you think? A united front is so important during these transitional times."

I stopped walking, forcing her to halt beside me. "Actually, I do mind."

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose, but her smile never wavered.

"Oh?"

"I have pressing matters to discuss with my father." I disentangled my arm from hers with deliberate care. "I'm certain you can find another partner."

"Pressing matters?" Her voice dropped, sweet as poisoned honey. "More pressing than your future wife?"

"You're not my wife, Nyvora." I stepped back, creating distance between us. "And yes, more pressing."

Panic cracked in her expression, but was quickly masked. "Xül, wait."

She reached for me again. "I need this. You don't understand—I need to get

away from her."

I paused, studying her face.

"My mother controls everything," she continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Every breath I take, every move I make, every thought in my head. This marriage—it's my only chance at freedom. At having something of my own." Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her gown. "I need you, Xül.

Not just the alliance, not just the power."

"Nyvora—"

"I know you don't love me." The admission slipped from her lips. "I'm not asking for that. But we could have an understanding. A partnership. I'd be a good wife, I swear it."

For a moment, I almost felt sympathy. Almost. But then I thought of Thais. A chance at something real. Of the future I'd already chosen.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I can't be your escape route."

The vulnerability vanished as if it had never existed. "You'll regret this," she said, her voice returning to its usual sweetness.

"I'll face the consequences.” I inclined my head, the barest acknowledgment, then turned and walked away. “Find another way out, Nyvora. This isn't it."

I could feel her gaze burning into my back, could sense the whispers that followed my rejection of her public display.

Let them whisper. I had more important concerns.

I found Thais in the crowd before she sensed my approach. My starling.

Utterly unaware of how every divine gaze tracked her movements.

I moved through the bodies silently. When I reached her, I couldn't resist the touch—my fingers found the small of her back, that spot I'd discovered made her breath hitch.

She shivered at the contact, and satisfaction clawed its way up my chest.

Even surrounded by the mass of admirers, her body knew mine.

"Golden eyes suit you, starling," I murmured against her ear, allowing my breath to ghost across her skin. I watched goosebumps rise along her neck and fought the urge to press my lips there, to mark her in front of all these vultures circling.

"Now I'm off to have some difficult conversations." The understatement of the century.

Her face shifted with understanding, and my chest tightened. She knew what this meant, what I was risking. Her hand found mine in the press of

bodies, hidden from view, and squeezed.

"Good luck," she whispered.

I allowed myself one more moment, memorizing how she looked in this instant—fierce and beautiful and mine. Then I stepped back, letting the crowd swallow the space between us.

I found Aelix near the wine table, his golden eyes tracking my approach with obvious amusement.

"That was quite the scene," he said, handing me a glass I didn't want.

"Nyvora looks ready to flay someone."

"She'll recover." I set the glass aside untouched. "Where's my father?"

"Eager to escape the aftermath?" His grin widened. "Last I saw him was near the Western balcony."

I nodded my thanks and made my way through the crowd. The celebration continued around me—laughter and music, the clink of glasses, the rustle of elaborate gowns. All of it felt distant, meaningless. My thoughts kept drifting to— No. I couldn't afford those thoughts here. Not surrounded by eyes that saw too much and tongues that whispered too freely.

Morthus turned at my approach, and I caught the flicker of annoyance in his expression—still furious with me, clearly.

"Father." I kept my voice carefully neutral. "A word?"

"What is it?" The words carried a chill.

"Not here." I glanced meaningfully at the crowded balcony. "The Eternal City."

One dark eyebrow rose, but eventually, he sighed. With a gesture, he led me to a shadowed alcove. The portal opened with barely a whisper of power, darkness bleeding through reality's fabric like spilled ink.

He motioned me through without comment, and I stepped from Sundralis's oppressive brightness into the familiar shadows of home.

We moved through the palace in silence. Servants bowed as we passed.

The tension between us grew with each step, fed by unspoken accusations and disappointments.

Finally, we reached one of his parlors. This was where he'd first explained my duties as his heir, where my mother had sung me lullabies in the ancient tongue during storms that shook the domain.

Morthus moved to the sideboard with measured steps. Yes, he was certainly still upset with me. Crystal clinked as he poured amber liquid into two glasses—ambrosia aged for millennia in casks of bonewood. He handed me a glass before settling into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight.

"What is it you need to speak about?" The words were shards of ice.

I remained standing, the glass untouched in my hand.

"I won't marry Nyvora."

The silence that followed was deafening. Morthus didn't move, didn't even blink, but I felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

Shadows gathered in the corners.

"We've discussed this," he said finally, his voice dangerously quiet.

"No." I set the glass down. "You've dictated. I've endured. There's a difference."

"Is there?" He took a measured sip of his drink. "Both end with you

doing what's necessary."

“I won’t.”

“I’ve grown tired of your insolence,” he murmured. “You know the

contracts have already been drawn up.”

"I love someone else."

The words hung in the air between us, shocking in their simplicity. I'd never said anything like that to him before, never given voice to what had been growing in my chest like wildfire.

"Love." He made the word sound like a child's fantasy, something to be outgrown with age and wisdom. "You think love matters when we have the fate of the realm resting on our shoulders? When everything we've worked for—everything we've sacrificed—depends on the alliances we forge?"

"I know what we need," I said, my voice hardening. "Better than anyone. I've played your games, attended your meetings, smiled at your allies while knowing they'd put a knife in our backs given half a chance.

But the person I love deserves more than being relegated to shadows while I play politics with my life."

"Your life belongs to more than just yourself." He set down his glass with enough force to crack the table. "You are my heir. Every choice you make ripples through the realm."

"Would you have made mother your mistress?" The question cracked between us like a whip. "If duty had bound you to someone else? If your precious alliances had demanded you take another as your wife?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, power crackling beneath his skin. "Times were vastly different when I met your mother. The realm was stable. We had the luxury of choice."

"Did you? Or did you simply take what you wanted, consequences be damned?"

He was on his feet in an instant, shadows writhing around him. "Be very careful how you speak to me, son."

"I’ve shown you the utmost respect." I met his fury without flinching. "I will not sacrifice her happiness, or mine."

“The nuptial contract only covers a thousand years. You can simply negotiate to renew or end it when that time comes. You haven’t lived long

enough yet to understand how quickly time will come to pass.”

“A thousand years—”

Pain erupted through my side—bones splintering, cracking, the wet snap of ribs giving way. My hand flew to my chest, fingers searching for the cave of crushed bone that should have been there.

Nothing. Solid. Whole.

I doubled over, my ribs screaming in sympathy even as they remained intact. It painted itself across my nerves—every break, every splinter, every impossible angle bones should never make.

"Xül?" The anger vanished from my father's voice, replaced by immediate concern. He was beside me in an instant, supporting my weight as my knees threatened to buckle. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer. The pain intensified. But underneath it, threaded through the agony like a golden wire, I felt her. Thais. Her terror, her desperation, her— "She needs help." The words scraped raw from my throat as I straightened, already moving toward the door. "Now."

“Who?”

“Thais.” I stumbled through the doorway.

"How could you possibly know that?" He followed as I broke into a run, all pretense of dignity abandoned. "Xül, answer me."

The ancient words pulsed through my mind with each heartbeat.

Sel dravira en ti. Niv valen, niv asra, niv loyeth. El atanen en ti. Vah serané.

She wasn't in Sundralis's main palace where I'd left her. No. She was somewhere else—somewhere that tasted of rot and corruption.

We reached the main portal chamber, and I began tearing at reality itself, pushing power into the space between worlds with desperate force.

The portal showed me glimpses—ancient stone, darkness, the taste of corruption—but it wouldn't stabilize. Wouldn't lock onto her location. I tried again, adjusting the parameters, but the image kept shifting, sliding away like oil on water.

"Why can't I find her?" I snarled, pouring more power into the attempt.

"Xül." My father's voice cut through my concentration, deadly quiet.

"What have you done?"

I stopped, turning to face him in the empty chamber. His expression had shifted from concern to dawning realization, and the fury building behind

his eyes made his earlier anger seem like a gentle breeze before a hurricane.

I bind myself to you. My life. My soul. My Loyalty. Forevermore. I’m

yours.

"The Sev'anarath," I growled out.

The temperature plummeted until our breath misted in the air.

"You bound your soul to her?" Each word was clipped.

"Yes."

“And she to you?”

“No.”

"What were you thinking?" The words came out soft, which was infinitely more terrifying than if he'd shouted. "What possible logic led you

to believe this was acceptable?"

"I’ve already explained myself to you."

"You weren't thinking at all." His control never slipped, but I could see the effort it cost him. Veins of shadow pulsed beneath his skin. "Even if you refused Nyvora, even if you defied every expectation and threw away every alliance—this? You've done something that can never be undone, never repeated. A union deeper than marriage, more binding than any contract."

"I know what I've done."

He stepped closer, and I felt the weight of his power pressing against me. "Do you truly understand what this could cost us? How carefully I've cultivated the alliance with Davina's domain? Your marriage to Nyvora is the cornerstone of our entire political strategy. Without it—"

"My soul was never part of that bargain," I growled, drawing on every ounce of strength I possessed. "It's mine to give, and I've given it to Thais."

"A woman you barely know."

"She declared herself to Sundralis. For you—to help her brother further your endless ambitions," I spat, feeling another spike of pain through the bond. "If you think for one second that I wasn’t going to find a way to protect her there, you’re delusional. Not when she’s forced to get close to that monster for your cause."

“Our cause,” he corrected, staring at me as if seeing a stranger. "You sound like a lovestruck fool."

"Perhaps I am." I ground out through the splitting ache in my side. "But I'm a fool who chose his own fate rather than having it chosen for him."

"And what of the consequences? You'll feel everything she feels now.

Her pain, her joy, her fear. If she dies—"

"Then my soul will follow." The words came out steady, certain. "That's what the binding means, Father. I know the price."

“You’ll be a shell of a man.”

“And much easier for you to bend to your will, then too, I suppose.”

He grabbed my arm, fingers digging deep enough to bruise. "Does Thais

know?"

"No."

"You will never speak of this to anyone. Not to Nyvora, not to Davina, not to a single soul. Do you understand me?"

"I never planned to tell anyone."

"Good. Keep it that way." His grip tightened to the point of pain. "If our enemies learn of this—if they realize they can destroy you by destroying her—"

"They won't." I yanked free, already turning back to the portal.

"Because I won't let anything happen to her."

"You arrogant child." The words chased me as I resumed tearing at reality. "You think your power is enough to protect her from the forces we're moving against?"

"I'll do what I must." The portal finally stabilized, showing glimpses of ancient stone and darkness. Through the bond, I felt Thais's fear spike into terror. "But right now she's in danger, and I can feel —"

Another wave of pain, sharper this time. But underneath it, threaded through her fear, was desperate worry. Not for herself.

"She's worried for Thatcher."

Interest flickered across my father's features at the mention of the other Morvaren twin. Of course—his newest blood-sworn. Vivros incarnate.

The irritation that flashed through me was petty but undeniable. Even now, even in this moment, he was calculating political advantages.

"Where?"

"Some kind of structure," I said, studying the images the portal showed.

"Beyond the Primordial ruins."

"She hasn't learned to create portals yet."

"Then that means she's with someone who can."

She was in a place cold and dead, a place few dared venture.

Then it hit me—a blinding, white-hot agony that wasn't mine.

I doubled over, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. The pain ripped through my abdomen, as if someone had driven a blade straight through my

core. But it wasn't my body being pierced.

Thais.

The bond flared with her pain, her shock, her blood spilling out.

"No." The word escaped as barely a whisper.

Without thought, without hesitation, I plunged my awareness down the gossamer thread that connected us. I gathered my essence and shoved it

through the bond.

My life. My death. My immortality.

It flowed from me like dark fire, racing across the connection between us. I didn't know if it would work, if it could reach her, if it would be enough.

"What are you doing?" A voice, distant, irrelevant.

I ignored it, focusing everything on maintaining the flow. On reaching

her.

Hold on, starling. Just hold on.

The thread between us thrummed, darkened, strengthened. I felt my essence wrapping around her fading light, a shield against the encroaching darkness.

She was alive. For now. Hurt. Afraid. And fighting for her life.

But alive.