“I’m here for Sirius.”
Atticus looked at Asher, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Asher, I might not know how it feels to lose a pet beast, but betting your life by traversing into the spirit world? That’s suicidal. Your strength will mean nothing if you venture into Goliathsgrave.”
Atticus sighed heavily before continuing, “Go to the sanctuary and meet the mother wolf. She will grant you another wolf.”
Asher turned toward him, his voice steady but lanced with finality. “She’s dead.”
After unraveling more secrets about the First Men, Asher had discovered something remarkable—the wolf that granted the Ashbournes their wolves was no ordinary beast. She was the divine snow wolf, granted to the fourth brother, Kryos who died almost a thousand years ago!
This divine beast was already dying for centuries, which was why she sustained herself only through nature’s support, prolonging her life but after Asher awakened his talent, she naturally died because nature demanded a new snow wolf and Asher wanted the snow wolf to be Sirius.
He wanted to use this opportunity to change Sirius’ fate and make him one of the four divine beasts to walk Tenaria!
This secret also made him understand that the Ashbournes became who they were because of Kryos, yet none of them had any idea about their heritage.
Atticus frowned, breaking the silence. “What do you mean, the mother wolf is dead?”
Asher approached the Kraken and responded calmly. “The snow wolf is born every time someone with the Kryos talent is born. The mother wolf was already a dying snow wolf which was why the polar wolves she granted us usually have ice as their main trait. But she was mutating, growing weaker with time. Unfortunately, another Kryos talent was born and according to natural law… she died.”
Atticus’s frown deepened. “Kryos? What’s this all about?”
Asher lifted his sword and slashed down but couldn’t cut the Kraken’s horns off. “Kryos was the one of the first four to possess talents and now his talent lives within me.”
Atticus unsheathed one of his swords and with a light, precise swing, he severed the Kraken’s horns. “You already have the ancient blood of shura—a talent that makes you half mortal, half spirit. And now you inherited a talent greater than that!”
Atticus squinted his eyes and muttered to himself. “You might be able to surpass even Lord Zenas… but!”
His gaze lifted, catching Asher examining the kraken’s horns which seemed quite large in his hands.
“I won’t stop you from going to Golaithsgrave. But you must summon me once you get there. I can’t have the family’s greatest hope march into the land of death alone.”
Asher chuckled softly, recognizing Atticus’ compassion. He was sure Ariel or Torah would definitely stop him, but Atticus? He was different—less of a lord and more of a man with a gentle heart.
Perhaps this was the reason why he was revered as a saviour by the tribes in the Ash Mountains.
“I shall d—!”
‘Come to me, Mortal.’
A deep, heavy voice rumbled through Asher’s mind, cutting him off mid-sentence. He froze and looked around.
Stay tuned to empire
“Did you hear that?” he asked Atticus, his tone sharp with unease.
“Hear what?!”
All of a sudden, a crimson force erupted upward, just a dozen meters away from the dome. Asher jumped to the top of the Kraken’s body, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto a silhouette emanating such an oppressive force.
Atticus waved his hand, parting the water to reveal a path that led to a large, dark object.
There was something atop it, radiating waves of oppressive force weighed on them. But their bodies were strong enough to resist it.
After exchanging a glance, they moved forward. The shadows grew lighter with every step until the object finally came into full view.
Asher’s breath stopped for a moment—it was a longsword plunged into a massive boulder. Blood-red chains were coiled tightly around both the boulder and the blade of the sword, while scarlet runes glowed faintly, etched from the crossguard to the triangular tip of the sword.
Atticus froze as his eyes fell on it. His hand shot up, gripping Asher’s left arm. “Look up.”
Asher tilted his head back—and froze. Above them loomed a towering figure. It was a man, colossal and without legs, with arms crossed as he peered down at them. His entire body seemed to be made from the sword’s crimson force and his staggering size, Asher and Atticus knew this was a giant!
“It’s a giant!” Asher murmured, his voice tight.
The giant’s wild hair floated upward and his glowing white eyes were locked onto them. Yet, Atticus noticed that the giant was more focused on Asher.
‘The living in the land of the dead. I never thought such a thing would ever happen.’
Both men heard the giant’s voice reverberate inside their heads, deep and ancient.
“Asher, we should—”
‘Silence!’
The giant’s voice boomed in Atticus’s mind like a thunderclap, forcing him to fall on his knee. Grimacing, he lifted his head only to see Asher walking toward the boulder, one step at a time.
‘Come mortal. Wield me—the Conqueror of Stars and bring all in the mortal world to its knees. With me in your hands, even the stars shall tremble at your rise.’
The giant’s voice echoed in Asher’s head as scarlet tendrils, slick and pulsing like actual blood, came out from the sword. They reached for him, coiling around Asher.
“Asher!”
Atticus bellowed, scrambling to his feet, but the water suddenly surged upward, forming an impenetrable barrier and sealing him out. Desperately, he tried to control it, only to discover, to his horror, that he couldn’t control the water anymore.
“Let the boy go!” Atticus’s white eyes shone brightly, his voice thunderous. But the giant remained still, his hands crossed as he looked down loftily.
‘Once your hands embrace me, mortal, I shall be free from this wretched prison.’
Another voice echoed in Asher’s head as he stood before the sword. At that moment, his eyes flickered, causing both the sword’s spirit and Atticus to squint.
“You can’t lure me even if you try. It was I who wanted more power—and it is I who chose you.”
Hearing his cold, determined words, Atticus’s expression became solemn.
“You’re making a mistake, Asher!” he shouted. “There has to be a reason that this sword was bound in chains and cast to the depths of the Red Sea!”
‘Pathetic! I was cast out of the mortal world and unfortunately fell into this desolate sea. The sea is my prison, not my grave.’
Realizing that he couldn’t reason with Asher, Atticus frantically looked around. His heart leaped as his gaze landed on something—a sheath, lying half-buried in the sea bed between two jagged rocks.