CHAPTER 147: CHAPTER 147: HE’S LETTING THE SKY DECIDE.

Elias dragged his hands down his face and peeked at Ashwin through his fingers. The man was still slouched on the sofa like he was on a coffee break, one boot hooked over the other, a faint smile cutting across his mouth.

"You’re enjoying this," Elias said flatly. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

Ashwin tilted his head, feigning innocence. "I’m always in a good mood."

"No, you’re always relaxed. This," Elias gestured at him with a sharp flick of his fingers, "isn’t relaxed. This is... casual like a cat that’s already caught the mouse. What do you know?"

Ashwin’s grin widened, just enough to flash teeth. "Maybe I just like watching you finally admit you’ve fallen for him. It’s cute."

Elias’s brown eyes narrowed to slits. "And maybe I should start locking the fucking doors."

"You can try," Ashwin said with unbearable smugness, catching the edge of the sofa with one boot. "I’ll just break them."

"Now would you tell him, or should I..."

A pillow thumped against his head before he could finish. He caught it one-handed, grinning wider. "Violence already? You really are soft for him."

Elias groaned and dropped back into his chair. "You’re insufferable."

"That’s my charm," Ashwin said, tossing the pillow aside. "Honestly, Clarke, you two are already mates. It’s not like you’re hiding state secrets. The whole manor smells like imperial iris and god’s pheromones. Who exactly do you think you’re fooling?"

Before Elias could answer, a quiet knock came at the door. One of the staff stepped in, setting a tray on the low table between them with sliced fruit, a stack of oat crackers, a small bowl of hummus, and neatly rolled wraps. Everything was tidy, healthy, and polite.

Elias eyed the tray with open disappointment. "No chips?"

The attendant hesitated. "Master Victor asked for..."

"Healthy, yes, I know," Elias muttered, waving the staffer off. "Thank you."

Ashwin immediately reached for a wrap and bit into it like he owned the place. "So disciplined," he said around a mouthful, gesturing to the tray. "You two really are domestic already. Next you’ll be comparing grocery lists."

"I hate you," Elias said without heat, reaching for a cracker.

"No, you don’t," Ashwin replied, unbothered, leaning back against the cushions. "You hate that I’m right. You’re mated, you’re marked, you’re eating his healthy snacks instead of chips, and still you act like there’s something left to confess. Tell him already."

Elias shot him a look over the rim of his coffee. "You’re unbearable."

Ashwin smirked. "Consider it free therapy before the sky falls in."

Before Elias could retort, the low hum through the windows deepened, vibrating against the floorboards like distant thunder. The pens on the desk trembled, one rolling to the edge and falling with a sharp clatter.

Ashwin’s smirk faded just enough to show alertness under it. He set the pillow aside and straightened, eyes flicking toward the window. "Ether’s climbing again."

Elias swallowed hard, the pastry suddenly tasteless in his mouth. "It feels stronger than before."

"Because it is." Ashwin’s tone was calm, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "He’s pushing higher."

Elias set his food down, fingers drumming once against the armrest. "And we’re just going to sit here?"

Ashwin’s gaze stayed on the shimmering glass, his voice low but certain. "We’re going to do exactly what Victor told us. Let him."

The rattling hum pulsed again, sliding over their skin like static, raising goosebumps on Elias’s arms. The pen he’d left on the desk shivered a little, rolled an inch, then stopped.

Ashwin’s mouth curved, but the smile was thin and sharp at the edges now. "Welcome to ascension hour, Clarke. Snacks, sarcasm, and sky-quakes."

Elias shot him a sideways look, suspicion cutting through the unease. "Shouldn’t someone be doing something? Authorities? Alarms? Making sure people are safe?"

Ashwin’s laugh came out dry. "Not necessarily. You and I feel the ether flow; we feel the rattle. The betas?" He shrugged, glancing back at the vibrating windowpane. "They don’t feel anything. Theobald’s not the first one to try, not even this year. Most attempts burn out before anyone notices. A few get far enough to make the sky shiver."

Elias’s fingers tightened around the armrest. "And you just...sit here?"

Ashwin leaned back, arms sprawled along the sofa, eyes still tracking the glass as though he could see through it. "That’s the job today. We watch. We wait. And if Victor decides the sky should fall, we’ll know."

The hum deepened again, a bass note in the bones, and for the first time Ashwin’s grin slipped entirely, leaving something like anticipation behind. "This one’s not burning out, Clarke," he murmured. "This one’s climbing."

—

The next pulse pressed through the walls, a soundless boom in the bones of the house. Elias’s breath caught, and Ashwin finally sat up straight, booted feet planting on the carpet like an anchor.

Far away, though the ether made it feel close enough to touch, Theobald was climbing.

A vision flickered behind Elias’s eyelids as if the air itself had opened: a high marble chamber bathed in pale light, columns spiraling up into darkness, the air thick with incense and the drone of voices. Priests in layered white robes circled a raised dais, their chants echoing like waves in a cavern.

And at the center of it all stood Theobald.

His blond hair gleamed under the cold glow of the ether, his blue eyes shut as though in prayer. White power streamed upward from his skin in slow, spiraling ribbons, each breath feeding the vortex above him until it arched like a crown of light. He looked almost weightless, arms lifted slightly away from his body, the edges of his coat and hair lifting in the current.

The chanting grew louder. Symbols carved into the marble floor flared one by one, a ring of blinding lines tightening beneath his feet. The air was so charged it bent and shimmered; the ether rolled off him in sheets, too pure, too bright to be natural.

Elias gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles whitened. He could feel it with his skin, his blood. The world tipping, trying to decide if it would make room for a new god or snap him in two.

Ashwin’s voice came low, stripped of its usual humor. "There he is," he murmured. "Theobald Adler. Clarke’s golden boy." He tilted his head as if listening to some far-off frequency. "Priests chanting, ether rising... they’re really going to try and crown him."

Another pulse rolled through the manor, strong enough to make the lamp flicker. Ashwin’s mouth curved, but the smile was grim now. "White ether. He’s close. Either he becomes something untouchable..." His gaze flicked to Elias. "...or he burns out spectacularly."

Elias’s stomach twisted. "And Victor’s just... letting it happen."

Ashwin didn’t look away from the glass, where a faint shimmer still crawled across the pane. "For now," he said quietly. "For now he’s letting the sky decide."