Chapter 8 AMBROSE
AMbrOSE
Since learning what I truly am, memories have been surfacing.
While the others train Stellan, I've been doing different work.
My mother's voice, teaching me the art of deals before I was old enough to understand what she was.
The network of contacts I built over centuries, connections I'd buried so deep I'd forgotten they existed.
The Crossroads Keeper abilities that Dmitri's imprisonment had suppressed but never destroyed.
I've spent the last few days reaching out through old channels, testing which connections still hold after two years of silence. Most do. Favors owed don't expire, and debts to a Crossroads Keeper are binding whether the debtor remembers them or not.
What I learn on the fourth day makes my blood run cold.
The "essence hunters" Dmitri is sending aren't standard Council enforcers. They're specialists. The kind who are called in when the Council wants someone neutralized, not assessed.
My fingers trace my collarbone where my pendant used to rest, a phantom gesture I still haven't broken.
The anchor that once grounded me is gone, dissolved once I learned what I truly am.
Now Skye is my tether, and through our bond I can feel the web of deals I've woven throughout Grimrose, all of them pulsing with warnings. Something bad is coming.
The hunters have a perfect track record of declaring every Magila they test as "too dangerous" and stripping their essence on the spot. Every. Single. One. Twenty-three assessments over the last decade. Zero survivors with their aura intact. Three dead from the procedure itself.
Dmitri isn't sending people to evaluate Stellan. He's sending assassins dressed as bureaucrats.
I gather my mates in one of the empty training rooms, safer than Skye's office, which I'm pretty sure has monitoring spells I haven't found yet. When they all file in, I ward the door with a contract that costs me a splitting headache but guarantees our privacy.
"We have a problem," I announce without preamble.
Five pairs of eyes focus on me immediately. Concern spikes from all of them in varying levels.
"The essence hunters. They're not what Varden told us they were.
" I pull out the documents I've been compiling, records I shouldn't have access to.
But that's what Crossroads Keepers do. We find the hidden paths, the buried secrets, the information that wants to stay lost. My mother taught me that before I could walk.
"These three Magila. Sylas, Morwen, and Kael. They're the ones being sent."
Jade leans forward, his newly prominent horns catching the light. Over the past few days, his transformation has been accelerating. He's more demon than incubus now, and it shows in the predatory way he moves. "I don't recognize those names. Should we?"
"You should." My throat tightens. "They're the Council's secret weapon. Over the last decade, they've been sent to 'assess' twenty-three Magila with unusual essence types. Want to guess how many passed their evaluation?"
Understanding dawns on Skye's face first. Our Praestes is quick, his mind already calculating implications. "How many?" His voice is tight.
"Zero. Not a single one." I let that sink in, my power thrumming with the weight of this truth. "All twenty-three were declared dangerously uncontrolled and had their essence stripped permanently. Three of them died from the procedure. The rest are essentially husks, alive but empty."
The room erupts into chaos.
Rumi's wings burst free without warning, golden feathers spread wide in agitation.
Harlow's temperature drops so fast that frost spreads across the windows.
Jade's eyes flash purple-black, his aura rising to protect.
And Stellan's heat blazes so intense that the papers in my hand start to curl at the edges.
I let them react because I understand their anger. I feel it too, burning in my chest alongside the cold calculation of my nature. But we can't afford to lose control. Not now.
Skye stands, his pink aura blooming around him in a way that makes him look older, more powerful. "This is an execution. They're not coming to test Stellan. They're coming to eliminate him."
"Yes," I confirm, forcing my voice to stay steady.
Through my network of deals, I can sense Dmitri's hand in this, the vampire's corruption spreading like poison.
"And here's the worst part. According to my sources, Dmitri himself requested this specific team.
He told the Council that Stellan represents an 'existential threat to the established order' and needs to be neutralized before he 'inspires others to reject their proper essence classifications. '"
My nature can see the larger pattern. This isn't just about Stellan. It's about making an example, about terrorizing every rejected Magila into submission.
Stellan's voice is barely a whisper. "He wants to terrify the other students into compliance," I correct, my mind already working through possibilities. "If they see a phoenix, a creature of legend, brought down by the Council, they'll be too afraid to step out of line themselves."
"This is personal for him too," Skye adds quietly. "Remember what we learned about Akila. About Liz. Dmitri's been manipulating this system for decades, maybe centuries. We're not just a threat to the Council's order. We're a threat to everything he's built."
Jade slams his fist on the wall, leaving a scorch mark. "So what do we do? Run? Fight? There has to be something."
I've been thinking about this since I got the intel, running every scenario through my calculations. "We can't run. The wards are still too strong, and even if we got out, they'd hunt us down. Fugitives from the Council don't last long."
"And we can't fight," Harlow adds, his tactical mind working through the same calculations. "Even if we could take down three hunters, which is questionable, we'd be declaring war on the Council. They'd send armies."
Rumi's laugh is bitter. "So we just let them take him? Watch them strip Stellan's essence and turn him into a shell? Fuck that. I'll fight the entire Council myself if I have to."
"We don't fight," Skye says slowly, and his Praestes mind races.
"We expose them. We make it public. If the hunters are going to declare Stellan dangerous no matter what he does, then we need witnesses.
Lots of witnesses. Make it so they can't quietly eliminate him without the entire Magila world watching. "
My power surges with approval. Yes. That's the loophole in Dmitri's plan.
"That could work," I say, my mind already weaving bargains, invisible threads of possibility weaving through my consciousness. "If enough people see Stellan demonstrate perfect control, and then see the hunters declare him dangerous anyway, it would raise questions about the Council's methods."
"Questions they can silence," Jade points out. "They control the narrative."
"Not anymore," I say, a plan crystallizing in my mind.
"Not if we control the narrative first. I have contacts in the independent Magila press, journalists who aren't on the Council's payroll.
If we can get them here, get them to witness and broadcast the test, then the Council can't bury the truth. "
I'm already calculating the deals I'll need, the prices I'll have to pay. A few days of warmth here, the ability to taste sweetness there, some minor memories I rarely access. It won't be cheap, but my mates are worth any cost.
Skye's eyes light up. "A public demonstration. Not just for the hunters, but for everyone. We show the world what Stellan really is. Not a threat, but a miracle."
"And when the hunters try to strip his essence anyway," Harlow continues, catching on, "the whole world will see the Council's corruption firsthand."
It's elegant. Risky as hell, but elegant.
"This plan," I say carefully, needing them to understand the full scope. "It's dangerous. If it fails, we don't just lose Stellan. We expose all of us. The Council will come for every one of us."
Skye meets my eyes, determination and fear warring in his expression. "I know. But we're already exposed, Ambrose. The moment Stellan transformed, the moment we bonded, the moment we chose each other over the system, we became targets. This is just us choosing to fight back."
I pull him into a brief, fierce hug. My power wraps protectively around both of us, and, I can feel how much he needs this reassurance. "For what it's worth, I'm glad we're doing this. I'm tired of hiding what I am. What we are."
"Me too," Skye murmurs against my shoulder.
When the others leave, Skye doesn't follow immediately. He walks with me back to my quarters, lingering by the door as I settle at my desk, watching me with those warm brown eyes that see too much.
"You're going to exhaust yourself," he says quietly. "Writing all those deals, paying all those prices. I can feel it. You're already running cold."
"I'll be fine."
"Ambrose." He crosses the room in three steps and takes my face in his hands. His palms are warm against my chilled skin. "Let me help."
"You can't pay the price for my bargains, little human. That's not how it works."
"No. But I can help you feel warm again." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "I can remind you what you're fighting for."
The offer hangs between us. I should refuse. Should send him back to bed, back to the others, back to safety. But I'm so cold, and he's so warm, and the void inside me aches for his light.
"Skye..."
He kisses me before I can finish the protest.
It's different from how he kisses the others. Softer. More careful. Like he knows I'm ancient and fragile beneath my sharp edges. Like he understands that the void inside me could swallow him whole if I'm not careful.
But I'm always careful with him. Have been since the moment I realized what he was. What he meant.
My anchor. My home. The only thing keeping the Original Darkness from consuming everything in its path.