As I walked back toward the waiting car, I felt the artifact pulse with something that might have been satisfaction.
I settled into the car's leather seats as we pulled away from Whitmore's gates. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror.
"How did it go, young master?"
"Better than expected," I said, watching the academy disappear behind us.
My phone buzzed with a text from Lydia:
So? Did you charm them with your sparkling personality or terrify them into submission?
I typed back: Both.
Her response was immediate:
Perfect. Mom's making a celebration dinner. Dad already ordered champagne. You're going to hate all the attention.
Probably
I replied. But as we drove through the city streets toward home, I found myself looking forward to it anyway.
The Tower loomed in the distance, its dark presence a constant reminder of my true purpose. But for now, I was content to play the role of Adrian Blackthorne, brilliant, aloof, and about to begin his education at one of the world's most exclusive schools.
A school that would teach me everything I needed to know about the Tower that had destroyed my world.
When we arrived home, Victoria was waiting in the foyer with barely contained excitement.
"Well?" she asked the moment I walked through the door.
"I start Monday," I said.
Her squeal of delight echoed through the marble halls. Marcus emerged from his study with a broad grin, and Lydia appeared at the top of the staircase with a triumphant fist pump.
"I knew it!" she called down. "Welcome to the world of social interaction, brother dear!"
As they surrounded me with congratulations and plans for celebration, I felt that strange warmth again. These people were genuinely happy for me. They wanted me to succeed not because it served their purposes, but because they loved me.
'Attachment is weakness' the god in me whispered one again.
Maybe, I thought back. But maybe some weaknesses are worth having.
Victoria linked her arm through mine. "Come on, let's call your grandmother. She'll want to hear the good news."
As she led me toward the sitting room, chattering about preparation and school supplies and how proud she was, I caught sight of my reflection in a hallway mirror.
White hair. Red eyes. The appearance of a teenager, but with something ancient and dangerous lurking beneath.
Soon, I would walk the halls of Whitmore Academy. I would learn their secrets, master their knowledge, and prepare for the day when I could finally enter the Tower.
But first, there was a celebration dinner with people who had somehow become the most important thing in this new life I was living.
Strange, I thought. I used to rule over the dead. Now I'm learning to live.
Victoria's voice broke through my reverie. "Adrian? Are you ready for school, my dear?"
I looked at her warm smile, at Marcus's proud expression, at Lydia bouncing excitedly on the stairs. Then I glanced toward the window, where the Tower's silhouette cut against the evening sky like a wound in reality itself.
Ready? I had been the God of Death. I had faced cosmic executioners and witnessed the fall of divine kingdoms. I had died and been reborn with the power of creation itself fused to my soul.
A prestigious academy full of teenagers seemed almost quaint by comparison
Almost.
"Yes," I said, allowing myself a genuine smile. "I think I am."