Ascension

by Sadie Moss

  I’m not the Weaver. And although I may be nearly as strong as the gods now, I’m not more powerful than them.

  Certainly not more powerful than two of them.

  Zelus takes me down with a sting of weave magic that slams into my head from behind. He’s attacked me like a coward, although I shouldn’t have expected anything else. I fall to the ground with a cry of pain, and Echo races in, his face furious as he raises his weapon to Zelus.

  He doesn’t even get close.

  Zelus knocks my messenger out with a twist of his finger and a brilliant flash of weave magic, and my heart lurches in my chest.

  No. I’m not losing before this even begins.

  I roll to Echo’s side over the fresh grass and clutch at his hand. With a thought, I send his unconscious body into the weave, then scramble to my feet and run for Paris.

  He’s thrusting his sword at Zelus, while Callum fights Kaius. My men are beautiful in their swordsmanship, and I know that in a battle with other messengers or human men, they would be deadly. But we have no chance against these two gods. Not with my newfound powers being no stronger than theirs.

  I jump between Callum and Paris and grab their shoulders.

  Latched on to both of them, I tear open a portal and carry us into the weave.

  23

  I’m not sure where to go where we could be safe from Kaius, so I return to the place where all of this began—the Unclaimed Expanse.

  I hit the dried, dusty ground on my feet, but exhaustion sends me collapsing to my knees. I’ve used more magic today than I have in all my time in the afterworld, and I’m beginning to feel the toll. Not that I’m incapable of wielding it, or that magic is finite—I’m fairly certain, based on my experience in the third realm, that magic, pure weave magic, is absolutely endless.

  But my body isn’t used to this kind of work. And I never completed whatever transition I began in the throne room.

  I sink to my ass and tug my legs in so that I can rest my elbows on them, leaning against a broad tree trunk. Echo joins me, awake but nursing lacerations on his face and arm from his fight with Zelus.

  He tilts his head back against the rough bark, shooting me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “So Zelus is as horrible as Kaius, I see.”

  “I assumed.” I let out an exhausted, breathless snort. “Though it’s nice to know all the horrible things I’ve thought about him were justified.”

  Callum stands above us, his body still tense, braced for a fight. “We can’t linger long. Two gods are after us now, and it won’t take them long to find us.”

  I squint up at him. His shoulder-length hair is lit fiery orange by the setting sun.

  The only silver lining I can find in this whole mess is that our appearance in their midst, and the revelation that I’ve developed power that can almost rival theirs, has turned both of the gods against me and my men. And as long as they’re hunting us, a temporary truce has been forged between them.

  I’m hopeful that Kaius and Zelus will hold off on their destructive battle until after they’ve dealt with us. I haven’t sensed any massive disturbances in the weave to prove they’re battling, so I consider that a good sign.

  Still, it’s hard to feel all that victorious right now.

  “Our plan didn’t work,” I murmur mournfully. “I’m not more powerful than Kaius and Zelus. And we still have no Weaver to help us stop them.”

  Echo nudges me with a shoulder, a small grin spreading over his face. “On the other hand, you now have the power of a god. That’s pretty impressive all on its own.”

  “I have the power of one god.” I struggle to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “And two foes. If I try to go up against them, they’ll destroy me.”

  “So we just need more even ground.” Paris comes to stand beside Callum, his face set in determined lines.

  I squint at him, distracted for a moment by how beautiful he is in the orange glow of the sunset, his blond hair fiery and his blue eyes like a perfect sky.

  They’re all still alive. Be grateful for that much, Sage.

  “How do you propose we do that?” I ask.

  “We make the other gods stand up and listen.” He gives a heavy shrug. “You had a vision that told you Kaius and Zelus would war until they destroyed earth entirely. What was it Sierian cared about? Her only concern, the one that made her say no to helping us when we asked before?”

  I think back to our audience with the goddess Sierian. It feels like that entire journey took place a lifetime ago. “Her city and her people. She refused to put them in danger.”

  “Right. Well… now we know that Kaius and Zelus will put her people in danger as well as their own. She’s going to need to know about that, I think. And when she finds out, I can’t imagine she could say no to intervening this time.”

  As I catch on to his meaning, a small ember of hope lights in my chest.

  Even if Kaius and Zelus have temporarily joined forces against us, I feel in my bones that the vision I saw will still come to pass if they’re allowed to continue in their petty, destructive ways.

  Maybe this time, I can prove that to Sierian.

  I nod, sweeping my gaze over my three messengers. “Then we need to make a trip to Aeheamel.”

  Aeheamel is quite a distance away, and when we traveled before, it took time to get there. Time isn’t something we currently have—we have no way of knowing when Kaius and Zelus will decide to abandon their tenuous truce, pick up arms again, and go to war. A human soul showing up with god-like magic was certainly a distraction, but not enough of one to last long.

  And they’ve proven exactly how petty and changeable they are. Even if they plan to work together to hunt us down, it’s only a matter of time before old grudges and rivalries flare again.

  Whether they kill me and my men first or not, the world is still in grave danger from these two reckless gods.

  The power I now wield is infinitely stronger than it once was, so I take control of weave travel. After returning to the earthly plane, we fly toward Sierian’s realm, making the journey in a fraction of the time. It gives me a small comfort that the powers I earned in the third realm can help us at least somewhat in our quest.

  Aeheamel is just as magnificent as I remember it. More so, I think, since this time, I’m not lost in my own emotions over how well taken care of her people are. I had a complete and total breakdown on our last visit, and it took the steadying force of Echo’s love to shake me from that panic.

  The city is vast, buildings rising higher than most cities in the afterworld, towering over the shimmering, mercury-colored river that cuts through the center like a wide, decorative ribbon. Homes and businesses are colorful, rather than dull and drab, and the people are well-dressed. Many citizens walk the sidewalks, while others drive horse-drawn carriages that likely cost a pretty penny.

  We walk the river-side thoroughfare as Sierian’s pyramid temple looms up ahead. The metallic gold pyramid spans over the river, precariously perched on its own bridge in between the dozens of other walking and riding bridges that connect the two banks. Evening sunlight glints red off the unblemished paint, and the columns around the outside portico shine white in the gathering dusk.

  There are fewer worshippers here at this time of the evening than there were on our last visit. We pass over the arched bridge and into the shadowed portico, where only a handful of Sierian’s subjects are walking the sacred circle. They hold plain white pillar candles and chant the same low, lovely song we heard last time as they move clockwise around the temple.

  The opening to the temple looms out of the gloom, and we enter, hurrying along the dark, narrow corridor into the inner chamber. Four angled walls soar overhead, meeting at an apex far above the central altar. Each wall shimmers with pearlescent strands—quartz crystal, I guessed upon first seeing it, though I suppose it could be any reflective mineral.

  Nobody prays at the raised dais where Sierian’s marble statue holds court over a sea of
offerings beneath a domed temple. Most of her people are likely at home with their families for the evening meal, which means less interference for us.

  Just as we did last time, we circle around the back of the altar, where one of Sierian’s priestesses guards the temple door. Surprisingly, I recognize the same young girl with ebony skin set off by her white robe and blue sash. Even without makeup and with her hair completely shaved, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

  I see the glint of recognition in her eye, and she gives us a silent nod before opening the door to the temple. We each thank her one by one as we pass through, then ascend the cramped central staircase to join Sierian’s statue on the dais.

  The statue is rotating before we even reach it, stone screeching against stone in the utter stillness of the temple.

  “Does she know we’re here?” I ask under my breath as the statue faces us, looking entirely too real. I’m sure it’s the weave that controls the stone, giving it a smooth and lifelike appearance, but that doesn’t make it any less eerie.

  “She must,” Callum replies quietly, his shoulders tense.

  With a wave of two stone fingers, the statue sends us spiraling through the portal in a whirlwind of color and wind.

  My head spins a little as we pass back into the afterworld for the second time today.

  Maybe it would’ve been easier to try to reach Sierian directly from the afterworld instead of skipping back to earth—but this temple is the only way I know of to gain an audience with her, and we had no time to waste.

  Fortunately for us, she’s granted us the audience we requested.

  Sierian stands at the bottom of the staircase to her throne, her fingers clasped before her long black dress and her angled face set into a grim expression. She has the long, muscular body of a battle-hardened soldier, but the delicate curves of a woman as well, showing both of her sides as warrior and mother.

  She studies us each in turn, dark eyes fathomless. Her raven-black hair is pulled into a slick braid that trails over one shoulder and down her chest.

  “You have news,” she states simply, resting her gaze on me.

  I forgot how deep her voice is, and the way power seems to infuse every word.

  “Kaius and Zelus have declared war on one another,” I say. “Though they have declared a temporary alliance to hunt me and my men.”

  “Indeed. Word has spread.” She looks down her nose at me, raising one arched eyebrow. “I struggle to comprehend why this has brought you back to my realm, when I already gave you my response.”

  The unblinking stare she gives me is so intense that I’m sure she could wither roses with a glance. But I refuse to let her intimidate me. Sierian is a good god—one with compassion and empathy. She cares about her people, and that’s the reason she’s going to join this fight.

  I’m sure of it.

  Because I won’t leave until she does.

  “We traveled to the third realm,” I tell her, putting more strength behind my words than before, although I can’t help but notice that my voice still lacks the resonant power of hers. “Are you aware of its existence?”

  The god almost manages to hide her reaction, but I catch the tightening at the corners of her kohl-lined eyes. She’s surprised, probably, that a little human soul could have known about that place. “I have heard… rumors.”

  “Well, it exists,” I assure her. “We risked oblivion to reach it and nearly died in the attempt. We fought our way to the Court of Ancient Power. I sat upon the throne, and I have been granted god-like access to the weave.”

  Her dark eyes rake over me, and she no longer bothers to hide the shock in their depths. “Ah. I thought I sensed something different about you.”

  “While on the throne,” I continue, “I saw a vision. Kaius and Zelus care for no one but themselves. Their grudges against each other are old and petty. They are united for the moment, but you and I both know that won’t last forever. Whether because of this squabble or a new one, they will keep finding reasons to attack each other. They will battle the earthly realm into oblivion, and then bring their madness here.”

  For an interminable moment, Sierian simply stares at me. Then she rises smoothly from her throne. She takes two long strides forward and lifts her hand as if to touch my forehead, then pauses and asks, “May I?”

  Both Echo and Callum have shifted minutely behind me, as if prepared to fight this powerful goddess should she attempt to hurt me. I hold out both my hands low at my sides, giving them a subtle warning to stand down. As much as I appreciate their protectiveness, I don’t want to risk ruining this possible partnership with the goddess before I can even get it started.

  I have no idea what it is Sierian is asking permission for, but denying her probably isn’t in my best interest. So I nod, then brace myself.

  She places her palm over my forehead and closes her eyes. I feel the weave flare between us, and a mildly painful sensation burns in my temples, as if my brain is made of lead and her hand is magnetic. There’s a strange tugging feeling, and I swear I can feel her pull something out of my mind.

  Then she releases me and steps away, her enigmatic expression replaced with one of steely resolve.

  “I see that you are telling me the truth,” she intones, concern filling her voice. “They will never stop.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not unless we stop them. My men and I will try, but even with my new powers, we’ll need help. If we stand up against them alone, we won’t win.”

  Her expression shifts, and I can see her settling into the role of warrior and general, her mind moving quickly as she calculates strategy. “I believe you are right. They will come for you, but it won’t stop there. They will never be satisfied until they have ravaged the world. We must act quickly. Have you need for sustenance?”

  I’m so taken aback by her sudden reversal, and the question about food, that it doesn’t occur to me to respectfully decline. But my stomach rumbles loud enough to give an answer of its own as I blurt out, “Yes, thank you. It’s been a while since we last ate.”

  Sierian claps her hands three times, and a moment later, the throne room doors open. One of Sierian’s bald, ethereal messengers walks inside the door and kneels, bowing to place her forehead on the hard marble in reverence to the god.

  “Follow Dachya,” the goddess tells us. “She will procure you food, and anything else you have need of. I’m going to call on several more of this realm’s gods to come meet with us. They need to know the gravity of the situation.”

  “Thank you, Sierian,” I say when I find my voice again. “We appreciate your generosity.”

  Sierian shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Thank me after we save the two realms. Until then, prepare yourself for war.”

  24

  For two days, a steady stream of stunning, ethereal beings drift in and out of Sierian’s palace.

  Many bring word of current events in Kaius’s realm, or Zelus’s, soothing my nerves with reassurances that their war has indeed been delayed. Nothing has been put into motion yet.

  We’re informed that while we were in the third realm, several small skirmishes led to damage in the afterworld, some of which took place in other gods’ lands. Bad for Kaius and good for our side, because the gods he’s provoked are ready to put an end to his reckless, invasive ways. As word keeps spreading of Kaius and Zelus’s out-of-control actions, more and more gods are choosing sides in this fight.

  This climate is a far cry from the blind eye being turned before.

  Lucky for us, several gods choose to throw their support in with our team. I imagine it’s been the several lifetimes of watching the pettiness and viciousness grow between Kaius and Zelus that have swayed these men and women to stand together against them now.

  But even so, many of the gods who come listen to what Sierian has to say choose to bow out in the end. Regardless of the threat to life and the afterworld, they still don’t believe in interfering i
n another god’s realm.

  I imagine they would be singing a different song, if the battle inched into their territory. But we can’t force them to join us, or even to care.

  Sierian calls for us after dinner on the evening of our second night in Aeheamel. She sits on her throne like a lounging predator, her elbow on the arm of her chair and her face in her hand. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a god look exhausted, but the way her dark eyes are hooded makes me think the past two days have taken a toll on her just as much as they have on me.

  She sits up as we bow to her on the red carpet. “The last of the gods I summoned arrived this afternoon. I just finished holding conference with them.”

  “And?” I ask, blurting out the question before thinking it through. Being rude to the god trying to gather us an army to defeat Kaius and Zelus isn’t the way to win favors. But I’ve hated waiting on the sidelines while she communes with the gods, only getting the small pieces of information fed to us over dinner.

  “We have six willing to stand and fight with us,” Sierian says. “It isn’t ideal, but it’s likely as much support as we can get.”

  “Six is an incredible number.” I brighten, honestly surprised it’s that high. One lesson I’ve learned all too well since my arrival in the afterworld is how set in their ways and slow to change the gods can be. “There are only two against us, so that gives us the upper hand.”

  Sierian grimaces. “Not so. Their numbers have grown as well. While I’ve put out my call for allies, so too have Kaius and Zelus.”

  “What gods would join forces with them?” I ask, horrified.

  “Rogue gods.” She lets out a sigh. “Four gods who live on the outskirts of the realm, who hold no sway over land here or on earth.”

  “I imagine that makes them bitter,” Paris murmurs, and I grit my teeth in frustration. I have no doubt Kaius and Zelus promised them power they never intend to give, lying to them and manipulating them in order to gain their allegiance.