Understanding crept into me. “That’s why you said I smelled like something dead—”

“I said you smelled of death,” Kieran corrected with a sigh. “Not that you smelled like something dead. Death is power, the old kind.”

“Death is power?” I repeated, not entirely sure at first how that made sense. But then it occurred to me. “Death and life are two sides of the same coin. Nyktos is…”

“He’s the God of Life and Death.” Kieran’s gaze flicked to Casteel. “And this explains why you thought her blood tasted old.”

“Ancient,” Casteel murmured, and I started to frown. “Her blood tastes ancient.”

I really didn’t want them to continue discussing what my blood tasted like. “Delano thought he heard me calling him when I was imprisoned in that room in New Haven—”

“For your safety,” Casteel tacked on.

I ignored his comment, still annoyed at being kept in that room. “I was feeling rather…emotional at the time. Is that what the summoning thing is? Were you reacting to my emotions?”

Kieran nodded. “In a way, yes. It’s similar to the bond we have with the Atlantians. Extreme emotion was often an alert that the one we were bonded to was threatened. We could sense that emotion.”

I thought about that. “There were shocks of static whenever some wolven touched me,” I murmured. The signs had been there, but like Casteel’s mother had said, why would anyone suspect this when the last of the deities had died out ages ago? It seemed to have even confused Alastir—the extent of my…powers. But how could I not have other amazing abilities if I was indeed a descendant of the King of Gods?

Well, killing people by turning their emotions back on them would probably count as an amazing ability—a scary one—but why couldn’t I morph into something like a dragon?

That would be incredible.

“Am I really descended from Nyktos? Alastir said I was, but since Nyktos is the father of the gods—”

“That is the figure of speech,” Casteel corrected. “Nyktos isn’t the actual father of the gods. He is the King of them. Alastir spoke the truth, or at least he spoke what he believed to be true,” he said, his jaw hardening.

I exhaled heavily. “Why could I even do what I did in the Chambers? What changed? The Culling?” I asked, referencing the process the Atlantians went through when they no longer aged like mortals and began to develop heightened senses, along with undergoing numerous physical changes. It was why Casteel believed that the Ascended had waited until now to have me go through my Ascension. My blood would be of more use to them now, capable of making more Ascended.

Had the Ascended known about the blood I carried? Had Queen Ileana known the entire time? Alastir had been in contact with the Ascended. I believed that. Would my blood even work now that I had…?

I had nearly died.

And maybe I had a little. I remembered floating toward a silvery light, without body or thought. And I knew if I made my way to it, not even Casteel would be able to reach me.