Azaelith and Kael made their way through the city under the cover of night, the shadows growing thicker around them as they passed through narrow streets and hidden alleyways. They were looking for someone—someone who could provide answers, someone who might have once been part of the Ascendants' web but had since defected.
Azaelith had no idea who they were looking for, only that Kael was certain they would find them. The city was alive with whispers, but the deeper they went into the underbelly of the city, the quieter it became. The air was heavy with secrets, every corner hiding something forbidden.
They stopped in front of an old tavern, its sign hanging crookedly above the door. "In here," Kael muttered, his voice low.
Azaelith followed him inside, where the scent of stale ale and tobacco filled the air. The patrons were few, mostly drunks and outcasts who lived in the shadows of society. Kael led her to a small table in the back, where a cloaked figure sat waiting.
The figure looked up as they approached, revealing a pair of sharp, calculating eyes. "You came," the voice was smooth and cold. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't."
Azaelith felt her pulse quicken. The person in front of her had an aura about them—cold and distant, but also powerful. She could sense that they knew far more than they were willing to reveal.
"Who are you?" Azaelith asked, her voice steady but commanding.
"Someone who owes the Ascendants a debt," the figure replied, their voice laced with regret. "And someone who has paid the price for their mistakes."
Kael leaned in. "You were once one of them, weren't you?"
The figure nodded, their face hidden in shadow. "I was. And I wish I could forget. But I can't."
Azaelith's eyes narrowed. "What happened? Why did you leave them?"
The figure's gaze flickered to Kael, then back to Azaelith. "I didn't leave them. I was... cast out. I failed them. They have a way of making people disappear when they're no longer useful. You don't want to cross them, girl. Trust me."
Azaelith's blood ran cold. The Ascendants weren't just powerful—they were ruthless. The thought of her family, her father, at the mercy of such forces made her feel sick.
"I'm going to destroy them," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll find a way."
The figure looked at her, and for the first time, their expression softened, as if recognizing something within her. "Then you'll need to understand what you're dealing with. The Ascendants don't just control magic, they control fate itself. They manipulate the threads of destiny, weaving them into a pattern that suits them. And they'll fight back, harder than you can imagine."
Azaelith's heart pounded in her chest. The more she learned, the more she realized how little she knew. But one thing was certain: she would stop at nothing to get her revenge.