Chapter 3 Ambrose Wisteryn
~Ambrose Wisteryn~
“Do you have him?”
Ketheron’s voice reached me through my deeply meditative state.
In all fairness, he had been so incredibly patient throughout this process.
A process that was dangerous, deeply intense, and possessing stakes that couldn’t have been higher.
Yet, through all of that, the distress it had afflicted him with, he’d afforded me the quiet I’d needed.
My rich black tendrils swirled around me as we remained concealed within one of my magical planes out of reach of everyone and everything.
Only Ketheron and I knew of its existence. Not even Remnant was privy to it. This one was reserved solely for emergency situations.
Just like the one we’d found ourselves in just mere hours ago.
When Winter had sent that text communication to Ketheron.
Given what we were already privy to, due to our clandestine observations of all parties involved, we’d been able to read between the lines.
Tiny God: Can we meet? Need your help with a spell for Grimoire Creation class. It’s got a Celestial element and I want to be extra careful with it.
That had been his message to my love.
We had been aware that Winter had been conducting investigations into Ruxnoth’s connection to him.
The precise nature of it hadn’t been known to us due to safeguards Winter had employed.
Yet we’d confirmed that he was working on a way to break Ruxnoth’s influence over him, and to also break the heathen himself and even Sanctus.
Winter had a self-sacrificial approach to things, so we’d also predicted that his solution involved jeopardizing himself, likely allowing Ruxnoth to pull him into Sanctus.
At the same time, we had been deeply concealed the day that Vaxan had retrieved that Celestial power from Taen, wherein Kai Hunter had then shown up, later followed by Sylas.
We’d heard all where their plan to develop an anti-Celestial spell using Vaxan’s vibrational resonance was concerned.
While we’d experienced a huge, time-consuming setback regarding locating entry points into Sanctus due to the falsities Ruxnoth had created, we certainly hadn’t been sitting idly by during that.
And while Ketheron had determined that no Celestial weapons existed any longer, he had discovered the existence of Ruxnoth’s Spiral Thorn.
Not technically considered a weapon, but a tool.
Also, it hadn’t been forged on the Celestial Plane, only recently by Ruxnoth himself using his perversion of Celestial magic.
A few years back, Sylas had refused to allow me to use some of his necromantic energy to imbue my black-magic protégés, so they could wield necromantic magic to an extent—both to take some of the weight off him and as a fail-safe in case he was ever incapacitated.
But even though he’d refused that, he hadn’t actually refused me. As a result, the portion of his energy that I was keeping safe also enabled me to track the stability of his magic—and his wellbeing. It meant that I’d been able to react in time earlier to Ruxnoth’s use of the Spiral Thorn.
I drew in a steadying breath, then opened my eyes.
Looking out at Ketheron, I confirmed, “I’ve got him.”
The utter relief all over him was almost painful.
They were family to him, and I understood how very deep his connection to them ran.
So deep, in fact, that he’d yet to even tell them that we had decided to move in together. That, however, could hardly be addressed now—not with this awful turn of events.
My entire being shook as I pushed to my feet, my tendrils still swirling around me, as they had to remain doing until I completed the process I’d put in place.
I’d had to ensure it was stabilized first, however, before moving on to the next stage could even be considered viable. And it had taken due time to accomplish that first aspect.
Thankfully, my target had responded favorably. His power was great, yes. Well, colossal. However, his strength of will was far beyond even that. Especially nowadays with it being fueled by his love for his family—and for his son.
Ketheron wrapped his arms around me and supported my weight against him, one of the very few I’d ever met who wasn’t daunted by my black magic being live when touching me.
Thankfully, it couldn’t actually harm him or impact him negatively either.
Otherwise I would never have allowed it, regardless.
He was far too precious to me—nothing would be allowed to damage him in any way whatsoever.
“Thank you, treasure,” I breathed, reaching out and stroking his cheek, to which he did that absolutely adorable thing of purring in response and his eyes fluttering closed briefly.
“No, you are the one to be thanked, my gorgeous. What you’ve done here today… I can’t even properly convey the magnitude of it.”
“Well, let us save the commendations once full success has been achieved, not just in part.”
I’d dealt with dire situations with extreme stakes many times over the years. But this… the weight to succeed, the burden of failure not being an option… this was another thing entirely.
“You’re deeply concerned,” he surmised when I’d shaken his praise off.
Like it had burned me. Like I couldn’t stand it touching me yet.
Not currently.
Not when the weight of doing this was bearing down all too heavily.
The fact I was struggling made the praise seem unwarranted. And it also seeped into the cracks I was already feeling from the strain of holding so much at bay with my magic.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“My gorgeous, you must focus on the task at hand only, push the stakes aside.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know. I know it is,” he soothed, stroking my cheek. “I completely understand. But I also understand you, how you operate, a great deal concerning you.”
“Everything concerning me, I’d feel confident stating at this point.”
“Thank you for that, Ambrose.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“For allowing me to know you like that. You forewent the mystery, the secrets, and your well-honed clandestine nature and approach. For me.”
“Just for you, treasure.” I reached out a trembling hand and clasped his fingers on my cheek.
“You desiring to actually know me, not my power… you are the first. Finding that in you means more than you know. I recognize the value in it. So of course I would return such a wonderful offering with my own, through allowing you into me.”
He leaned in to kiss me, even through the thick swirls and tendrils of black magic, as my veins coursed with such potent flowing magic at this moment in time.
Still, he didn’t care, it didn’t faze him, all he saw was me.
His love for me. A love that was so pure and even unconditional.
To be loved like that… it was absolutely incredible.
The fact that he could love like that had inspired me to learn how to do the same.
He’d taught me a great deal there. Something I cherished so very dearly.
And a moment like this where I was struggling, where the circumstances were deeply dire, the stakes all too high, he still had the capacity to pull me from that, to ground me.
That was what he was doing now by bringing this up at what anyone else would see as an inopportune time.
But it wasn’t. Not from his perspective, from his true intent in voicing it—drawing my attention to the comfort of our love.
I tilted my head to receive his kiss, but I never made it.
My knees buckled, my power flaring wildly, and although he kept me steady in his hold, my plane encompassing us collapsed, and the world outside came rushing back, the bright light of the morning sun making me squint as it reflected off the lake in the quiet valley.
He grimaced. “I wish so badly that I could have you siphon me to take some of the weight off this.”
“I know, but you can’t. Celestial power, or any other type of magic, would infect the integrity of what I’m holding right now.”
“Let’s get you there immediately, then. If you’re ready?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I winked. “What you did helped. My beautiful, thoughtful treasure that you are.”
A sweet little chuckle escaped him, but it was cut off as I lurched violently when a flood of burning pain took me, roaring through my whole body with a nasty suddenness.
I choked, blood oozing from my mouth.
He had to release me, actually lowering me carefully to my knees so there was no painful jar as they hit the grass bank, just a moment before I vomited all over it, making quite a mess.
A mess of blood. More blood.
“Hades!” Ketheron cried, frantically reaching for me, then holding my long hair back, as another rush of blood erupted violently from my insides.
Well, it wasn’t just blood.
I didn’t want to draw attention to that, but when it started bubbling with blackness and what would look to the untrained eye much like an acidic substance, it spoke for itself.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ketheron… stand back,” I choked, spitting out the residue of the nasty taste now I’d finally ceased retching.
“Ambrose…” His voice cracked. He didn’t want to leave me, not even slightly.
“It’s… okay.”
A whimper escaped him, but then I felt him release my hair, then burst back several feet, implicitly understanding how much room I needed. Of course he did. Of course.
What I was about to do was going to be decidedly uncomfortable. Although, I supposed the vomiting already took the cake there. Not to mention, the vile burning sensation that was quickly being followed by stabbing spikes of pain inundating my very being.
I gritted my teeth and managed to push additional power forth until thick black glows enveloped my hands. “Persta. Meae voluntati pare,” I croaked. Persist. Obey my will.
A few moments passed and the burning eased—somewhat.
Not quite enough, considering I needed my strength and focus for what was to come.
Sweating, I pulled harder, the glow intensifying.
It pushed the resistance back further, albeit much like a piece of driftwood trying to hold back a tidal wave at present.