63. Vanishing
Vanishing
"Rise, Ascended," Olinthar commanded.
My legs obeyed before my mind caught up. Strange, how the body remembered protocol even when the soul wanted nothing more than to rebel.
The chamber hummed with anticipation, a thousand immortal eyes fixed on us three survivors. I stood on unsteady legs, my newly divine body still foreign to me.
Too much. It was all too much.
"Step forward," Olinthar directed.
We moved as one, leaving our pedestals to approach the semi-circle of thrones. With each step, I became more aware of the change in myself—my movements too fluid, my balance too perfect, my senses too sharp. This body wasn't mine anymore.
Marx walked beside me, her face impassive, though tiny wisps of smoke still rose from her shoulders, her skin bearing the marks of the divine fire that had nearly consumed her. She had survived, but just barely.
"The domain selection is the final step in your ascension," Olinthar explained, his voice carrying effortlessly through the vast chamber. "Each new god must declare their chosen domain of influence."
My heart quickened. This was the moment we'd planned for, the true purpose behind everything we'd endured. Get close to Olinthar. Gain his trust. Strike when he least expected it.
"Marx," Olinthar said, nodding toward her. "You shall be first."
Marx stepped forward, her posture suddenly regal despite the obvious lingering pain of transformation. "I choose Draknavor," she announced, her voice strong and clear. "I shall serve at the side of Morthus in the Domain of Death."
No murmurs at this—it was exactly what everyone expected.
Olinthar nodded. "So be it. Morthus, do you accept this offering to your domain?"
Morthus inclined his head, his face betraying nothing. "I accept."
"Then approach the throne of Death and receive your formal welcome."
Marx moved with newfound grace to stand before Morthus.
The God of Death placed a hand on her head, murmuring words too low for even my enhanced hearing to catch.
A current of dark energy passed between them, and when Marx turned back to face the assembly, her golden eyes held flecks of deepest black.
"Thatcher Morvaren," Olinthar continued, his attention shifting to my brother. "Make your declaration."
Thatcher stepped forward, his face a perfect mask of respect and humility that I knew was entirely false. "I choose Sundralis," he said, his voice clear and strong. "I shall serve in the domain of Light and Order."
The murmur grew louder. He’d been Chavore’s, after all. But few knew of what Olinthar actually wanted—what his plans were for Thatcher. And even fewer knew that this single decision would lead to the downfall of their King.
But Olinthar smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips that made my skin crawl, even though I’d been bracing for it. "A wise choice," he said. "I accept your service gladly. "
Thatcher bowed low, the perfect picture of gratitude and deference. Only I could see the calculation behind his golden eyes, the cold determination that mirrored my own.
"And finally," Olinthar said, turning his attention to me. It was, perhaps, the first time I’d ever seen his eyes so focused on me and me alone. His face was neutral, absolutely nothing reading in his expression. Gods, I hated him. I wanted to claw his eyes out with my bare hands. "Thais Morvaren."
The chamber fell silent. This was the moment of truth.
I glanced at Xül, unable to stop myself.
His eyes were guarded, his face carefully blank, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the slight clench of his fist at his side.
He already knew I would choose this, but it didn’t stop the hurt from bleeding into his eyes.
"I choose Sundralis," I declared, my voice steady despite the unexpected pang in my chest. "I shall serve in the domain of Light and Order."
The murmur became a wave of surprised whispers.
Olinthar's smile widened, and the satisfaction in his eyes made bile rise in my throat. "How... interesting," he said. "The twins united in Sundralis. How honored our domain should feel. I accept your service, Thais Morvaren."
I bowed my head, not in deference but to hide the hate that I knew would show in my eyes. When I raised it again, I deliberately avoided looking at Xül. I couldn't bear to see whatever might have been written on his face in that moment.
Olinthar beckoned me forward with one perfect hand. I approached his throne, every step heavier than the last. His fingers were cool against my forehead as he spoke the words of claiming, the divine magic of Sundralis washing over me. It felt sick and wrong.
When it was done, I stepped back, feeling somehow tethered to this place now, bound to the very being I had sworn to destroy.
"Let the celebration begin," Olinthar announced, rising from his throne. "Tonight, we welcome three new Aesymar to the pantheon of Voldaris! "
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Music swelled from unseen sources, and servants appeared bearing trays laden with food and drink that glowed with divine energy.
Divine beings swarmed around us, their faces blurring together in a sea of perfect features and calculating eyes.
Each one wanted something—a moment with the newest gods, a chance to establish connections, to secure future favors.
It was overwhelming, the sheer weight of their attention pressing against my newly divine senses.
There are so many of them, I sent to Thatcher through our bond, which hummed stronger than ever after our transformation. How do they expect us to remember all these names?
Just smile and look pretty, he replied, the familiar teasing note in his mental voice steadying me. It's what we're good at.
I fought back a snort, earning curious glances from the minor deities surrounding me.
A goddess with flowing silver hair was telling me she was also from Sundralis, but her words slipped past me like water.
All I could focus on was the golden glow that now emanated from Thatcher.
He stood ten paces away, already encircled by his own admirers, but our connection remained unbroken.
The crowd shifted, and suddenly he was gone from my view.
The press of bodies around me increased as more immortals arrived to offer their congratulations.
They touched my shoulders, my hands, praising my strength, my resilience, my beauty—as if they knew anything about me beyond what they'd witnessed in the Trials.
I smiled and nodded, falling back on the manners Xül had so painstakingly drilled into me over the past months. Yes, I was honored. No, the transformation hadn't been too painful. Yes, I looked forward to serving Sundralis. The lies flowed easily.
A cool presence materialized behind me, familiar fingers brushing the small of my back. I didn't need to turn to know who it was. My body recognized him instantly, responding with a warmth that spread up my spine.
"Golden eyes suit you, starling," Xül murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear .
I shivered. When I turned to face him, his expression was guarded, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"Now I'm off to have some difficult conversations," he said, gaze drifting across the crowd.
My heart swelled. He was really going to do it. I squeezed his hand, the act hidden from view by the press of bodies around us. "Good luck."
His eyes returned to mine, lingering, then dropped briefly to my lips. A promise for later. Then he was gone, moving through the crowd with predatory grace.
I scanned the room for Thatcher, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Let me know if you need an out , I sent through the bond.
Noted. Same goes for you.
Another face caught my attention ahead—Marx, standing awkwardly at the edges of the celebration, looking thoroughly uncomfortable as several Lightbringers attempted to engage her in conversation.
I made my way toward her, murmuring polite excuses as I extricated myself from my own admirers. Marx's face lit with relief when she saw me approaching.
"Thank the gods," she muttered as I reached her side. "If I had to listen to one more obtuse congratulations, I was going to start cursing people."
"You've been divine for all of an hour, and you're already abusing your power?" I grinned.
"Just planning ahead." She grabbed two glowing goblets from a passing servant, handing one to me. "Might as well."
I took a cautious sip. The liquid warmed me from the inside out.
"Better?" Marx asked.
I snorted. "Come on." I nodded toward a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. "Let's get some air."
We slipped outside, leaving the noise and the press of the celebration behind .
The moment we were alone, I became acutely aware of how careless we'd been before.
With my new senses, I could hear conversations from three rooms away—the rustle of fabric, the whisper of breath, heartbeats drumming their private rhythms. If I could hear all this now, what had the Aesymar been privy to during our mortal days?
The thought sent a chill through me. How many secrets had we spilled, thinking ourselves safe in empty rooms?
"So," Marx said, leaning against the balcony rail. "I see you had some revelations since our last conversation."
There was no accusation in her voice, but I felt defensive anyway. I touched her wrist, a silent warning, then leaned close enough that my lips nearly brushed her ear.
"We need to be careful," I breathed, my voice softer than a sigh. Even Marx, standing inches away, had to strain to hear me. "I can hear everything. Which means they always could."
Understanding flickered in her eyes. When she responded, she matched my volume, speaking directly into my ear in return.
"Shit," she whispered.
"Yeah." I kept my voice at that same near-silent level. "We were lucky. Or maybe they just didn't care enough to listen."