Emperor of the Dead

Chapter 18

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November 8, 1800
Asra Devorinak

Asra Devorinak wanted nothing more than to sleep for another day, but the sun had different plans in mind. And so did Zeus.

That alone made her curse out Zeus's name. Loud enough for the mothers to keep their children away from her as they walked past her, muttering how a woman shouldn't even know those words.

Funny how Asra only increased her volume after that.

Asra was already three days late. She was supposed to be at Belises Port on November fifth, and here she was buying mangoes from a stall at least a few more hours away from her final destination on November eighth, throwing a black hood and cloak over her frame to protect herself from the sun Southern Tereline had to offer.

Asra groaned as she threw her head to the sky, hoping her voice would reach the clouds she'd been standing on a few days ago.

It was hard to believe that it wasn't a dream or an illusion, that she had been burdened by god-given responsibility. There had been no signs, no warnings. Duty was dumped onto her because some horse with wings thought she was worthy.

Or it could be because of her parents, her lineage, the impure blood in her veins that ran as black as darkness. You couldn't tell what it was until you felt it between your fingers.

Tar.

But the opportunity to meet Aranaz for a second time brought a smile to her face even as she thought of the many reasons she wanted nothing to do with Zeus or the title he'd bestowed upon her. As if it were a crown when it was nothing but a nuisance.

She had concluded that the title was a fancy way of saying she was Zeus' stand-in, an ambassador of sorts. That she was to extend his reach onto this plane of reality.

Her whole life, whenever she read a novel or something of the sort, the characters had so many motivations, reasons for saving the world and whatnot. Was it that disgraceful to just exist without any ambitions? Was that such a crime? Was it so horrible that all Asra wanted to do was exist, go on a few adventures for the sake of it, and do whatever she pleased? What did it matter if she didn't have any dreams? This world had snatched that right out of her hands and so did the one she came from, but the second that stopped bothering her, everyone who kept her from her passions took that as an offence. A personal offence.

What did they want?

As an assassin, Asra lived many lives. She'd seen the world from so many angles and the only one it looked good from belonged to the very people she hated. Everyone with a semblance of power and no sense of duty or humanity, the people leading the country who had never once seen a day of struggle, never seen the problems they were supposed to fix; therefore, they never acknowledged the presence of those issues. They never wanted to fix the world, to watch it grow. They wanted to suck it dry and keep the juice for themselves.

Thank the skies they were the very people she killed for a living.

With another yawn, Asra threw her mango pit at a nearby bush and made it a point to be tired the rest of her journey to Belises Port. To drag her body along the way, hoping Zeus would watch and take pity on her poor soul and transfer the responsibility of being the Sovereign to someone else. Asra knew it wouldn't work, but she could always hope.

Then again, there was something oddly exciting about leaving behind the life she'd come accustomed to. Sneaking out at night to kill a wealthy man, scamming people with fake fortunes. That was certainly an abnormal life, but being amongst pirates was going to be a different story. Battles on the seven seas, cursing to your heart's content, drinking mugs of beer. That would be a different kind of excitement.