Ascension Was a Lie, So I Destroyed Heaven

Chapter 2 : Three Years to Destruction

"Are you sure you are okay, Master?" Kael asked. He was standing by the door, holding a tray with a small bowl of steaming porridge.

Aren didn't answer immediately. He stared at the steam rising from the bowl. It looked too much like the mist on the Celestial Ladder. He forced his eyes to move from the steam to Kael's face. The boy looked so young. His skin was smooth, and his eyes didn't have that cold, hungry look yet.

"I am fine, Kael," Aren said. He forced his voice to sound light. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You were shouting in your sleep," Kael replied. He walked into the room and set the tray on the desk. "Something about the sun and the dark. You sounded like you were in pain."

Aren rubbed his chest. He could still feel the phantom sensation of Jaxon's sword. "It was just a nightmare. The pressure of the new formation design is getting to me. Is Master Thorne asking for the updates?"

Kael nodded. "He is. He said the Grand Archon is becoming impatient. They want to see the progress on the main pillar by the end of the week."

"They always want more," Aren whispered. *They want to start the harvest,* he thought.

"What was that, Master?"

"Nothing. Tell him I will have the adjustments ready soon. I just need some air."

"Wait, Master. Lady Elara is on her way up. She said she brought some medicinal tea for your nerves."

Aren's heart hammered against his ribs. He felt a sudden urge to bolt out of the window. "Elara is here?"

"I'm already here," a voice said from the hallway.

The door creaked open further, and Elara stepped inside. She was wearing a soft blue robe that matched the color of the morning sky. She looked radiant. She looked perfect. She looked exactly like the woman who had watched him bleed out without a single tear in her eyes.

"Kael, you can go," Elara said gently. She didn't take her eyes off Aren. "I'll take care of him."

"Yes, Lady Elara," Kael said. He bowed and scurried out, closing the door behind him.

The silence in the room became heavy. Aren stayed in his chair, his hands hidden under the table so she wouldn't see them shaking.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Aren," Elara said. She walked toward him, her footsteps making almost no sound on the wooden floor.

"Maybe I have," Aren replied. He watched her set a small clay pot on the desk.

"You've been working too hard on the Ascension plans. I told you that you should rest more," she said. She reached out, her fingers moving toward his forehead.

Aren flinched. He moved back just an inch, but it was enough to make her hand stop in mid-air.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked. Her voice was hurt, but her eyes remained calm. Too calm.

"No," Aren lied. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes. "I just had a very vivid dream. In the dream, someone I trusted put a sword through my back."

Elara didn't blink. She didn't look guilty. She just tilted her head. "A dream? That sounds more like a premonition. You know what the elders say about the dreams of a Grand Formation Master."

"What do they say?"

"That your soul sees the future before your eyes do," she whispered. She sat on the edge of the desk, leaning closer to him. "But you know I would never let anyone hurt you, don't you?"

Aren felt a wave of nausea. He remembered her face at the gate. *I know. That's what made your energy so pure.*

"Of course," Aren said. He managed to pull a small smile onto his face. It felt like his skin was cracking. "I'm just tired, Elara. The calculations for the Celestial Ladder are complex. I might have made a few mistakes in the early drafts."

Elara's eyes sharpened. "Mistakes? What kind of mistakes?"

"Just energy flow issues. Nothing that can't be fixed," he said. He noticed how she reacted to the word 'mistakes'. She wasn't worried about him; she was worried about the gate. "I need to go over my notes again. Alone."

Elara stayed still for a moment, then she stood up. "Fine. But drink the tea. It will help clear your mind. We have a long way to go before the ritual, Aren. I need you at your best."

"I'll be at my best," Aren promised.

He watched her walk to the door. She stopped at the threshold and looked back. "We're doing this for everyone, remember? A world without limits. A world where we can be together forever in the Upper Realm."

"I haven't forgotten," Aren said.

Once the door clicked shut, Aren slumped forward. He grabbed the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to break the tea pot. He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out. But he couldn't. He had to be the perfect architect. He had to be the man they could use.

He turned to his desk and pulled out a leather-bound journal. It was his personal log, full of half-finished equations and sketches. He flipped through the pages rapidly.

"Where is it?" he muttered. "I know I wrote it."

He reached page forty-two. To any other eye, it was just a page about the density of jade stones. But Aren knew better. He picked up a small candle from the side and held the page over the flame, just close enough to warm the paper without burning it.

Slowly, faint brown lines began to appear between his old notes. It wasn't his current handwriting. It was jagged, rushed, and stained with something dark that looked like dried blood.

*If you are reading this, I failed. They killed me. They killed everyone.*

Aren't breath hitched. *I wrote this? No, the me from the future wrote this before he sent us back.*

He read further.

*The Archon is a puppet. The gate is a mouth. Do not finish the ladder. Go to the Void Market. Find the merchant named Sael. Tell him the architect needs the Heaven-Eater. Do not trust Elara's tea. It contains soul-binding spores.*

Aren looked at the clay pot. He picked it up and walked to the window. He poured the liquid into the bushes below. Small, glowing blue sparks flickered in the tea as it hit the dirt.

"Soul-binding spores," he whispered. "She was already starting the harvest."

He felt a cold resolve settle over him. He wasn't just a victim anymore. He was the one who knew the ending. He looked at the blueprints on his desk. The lines looked different now. They didn't look like steps to heaven. They looked like the ribs of a giant beast waiting to swallow the world.

He grabbed a dark cloak from the back of his chair. He needed resources that the Sekte Cloud-Formation couldn't provide. He needed things that were illegal, dangerous, and hidden from the eyes of the Grand Archon.

"Master? Are you still in there?" Kael's voice came from the other side of the door again.

Aren didn't answer. He moved to the window and looked down. The drop was thirty feet, but he knew the layout of the sect walls by heart.

"Master? Lady Elara said I should check if you finished your tea."

Aren climbed onto the windowsill. He looked back at the room one last time. He looked at the journal on the desk.

"Tell her I'm sleeping, Kael," Aren called out. "And tell her I've never felt more awake."

He dropped from the window, disappearing into the shadows of the morning mist. He had three years to build a grave for the gods, and his first stop was the one place where even the heavens were afraid to look.