Chapter 3 Ambrose Wisteryn #4
It took just seconds to extract the full trail of that aspect, and I clenched my fingers of my left hand and twisted my wrist, forcing it into a levitating circle just to the side of me at eye level.
Then I focused on pouring the crimson weave into Sylas’ open wound, filling it up, returning what Ruxnoth had gotten hold of through his blood connection to Winter.
I cursed as my body began trembling uncontrollably, while I tried to hold the weave steady.
It was Ruxnoth’s circle trying to hold onto it, not wanting the crimson core to break from my magical wound infrastructure, because it would be undoing the damage.
I heard a cry from Ketheron, before he managed to switch to words of encouragement, my poor treasure having to swallow his fear and pain for me.
It was going to take a great deal of damage control later. This would no doubt be an internalized trauma event for him. And on top of Sylas dying and his tiny god being taken.
I dug my nails into my wound, into the black magic swirling there and poured more into it until the markings were pulsing.
And then I thrust my right hand forward and pushed the rest of crimson weave into Sylas.
His body jolted violently on the table and I was aware of Lazriel trying to dart forward only to be thankfully held at bay by Remnant.
I watched the crimson weave swirl inside the wound, then travel across his body as the wound began sealing, and crimson veins ran all over his skin.
It looked rather disturbing, but it actually meant he’d received it very well.
Things were right on track.
However, it wasn’t over yet.
There was more to do, or everything would snap back to its former dire state. I needed to contain Ruxnoth’s circle and what I’d extracted from Sylas just now.
I pulled my right hand back, then moved it in rapid circles, forming a black luminous orb around the blue power I was levitating beside me.
The moment that was contained, I lifted my left palm from the wound, then began drawing out the amber threads with said hand, while fisting my right and forcing out the midnight-blue.
They drew out inch by inch, Winter’s coming faster, while Ruxnoth’s kept resisting. It started and stopped several times, to the point that the strain had me staggering into the bed, bracing my side against it to remain upright.
They kept tangling, Ruxnoth’s trying to remain fused to Winter’s and lashing out against me undoing that unnatural fusion.
“Persta.” Persist. I uttered the words to the amber threads, willing it to continue its march alone and away from the subjugation.
The blue threads lashed once more, and those I held within the orb went wild, trying to breach it.
“Potestas mea cuncta superat!” My power transcends all!
A rush rolled through me as I gave it my all.
Literally all.
The essence of my lifeforce that I’d had to draw on earlier to hold onto all of this.
I felt blood trickling from my nose.
No. Not yet.
I panted and looked at Sylas. The veins had dissipated, meaning things were settling.
I’d broken the kill condition.
The wound was even gone of its own volition. He’d healed himself. Already. I’d expected he’d need assistance. That was… unforeseen.
But now things were no longer in a paused state since the moment I’d filled the wound with the crimson core from mine, if I didn’t trap Ruxnoth’s and Winter’s weaves, Sylas would still be in danger.
Finally, I watched the amber trail break completely from the other one at the force of my power whipping around it.
The moment that happened, I fisted my right hand and snuffed it out—well sent it away magically, where it would be held at bay in a metaphysical vault-cube of mine.
Then I thrust both hands forward, and drove the remaining trail of the blue weave into the sphere I was holding the other one at bay with.
I watched it drive inside, more and more filling it, the one already there slithering around it.
I was sweating, my chest and back soaked, even needing to blink as it trickled from my forehead into my eyes. I was wavering on my feet, and my every breath was broken and raspy, strained and barely-there.
I heard Ketheron crying out, Remnant too, and Lazriel cursing fiercely.
But they did me the decency of not interfering.
Not now.
I was too close.
Just a little bit more, then that weave would be contained in the unbreakable sphere I’d forged.
And then I crashed into Sylas’ chamber, slapping my palm down beside his arm on the hard surface.
My left was still live with my power.
Curses, I’d almost been forced to snuff it out.
My hand shook, my magic starting to sputter out.
No. Come on. Come on. Just a little—
My wrist was snatched, jarring me significantly.
And then a dizzying rush of warmth surged through me.
It poured out of me in the form of my black tendrils surging almost violently. They drove the rest of the midnight-blue power into the sphere in a sudden burst.
Done. It was… done?
That warmth remained, but the grip left me.
I stumbled, but managed to turn.
And there Sylas was, droopy eyes slightly open, a slight smile on his face. “Got… you, friend,” he croaked tiredly.
I looked to see a red ring around my wrist, glowing and pulsing.
A groan escaped me as the dizziness subsided quickly, then I was jolting as the blood trickling from my nose and eyes was… drawn back inward.
My magical wound also faded, my own skin and veins remaining, returning to my normal state.
Had he… he’d death-tethered me.
In a way.
I hadn’t touched the Valley, yet I’d clearly been right on the verge.
I sank against the chamber, the red ring around my wrist dematerializing.
Sylas sighed wearily, his hands dropping heavily down at his sides, eyes growing heavy.
There was a glint there in them, though, as he looked out at me.
He was too tired, and in need of much rest, to be able to voice another word, but he mouthed “thank you” to me.
In the next moment, Lazriel burst forward and was all over him, frantic relief spilling from him. Remnant winked at me as he joined his son.
And then strong arms were wrapping around me, making me smile as I looked to see Ketheron hauling me up against him.
He was currently too overcome to speak, and buried his face in my shoulder instead as he held me to him.
I sank into him and looked out at Sylas now conscious and responsive, albeit very weary. For now.
It was done.
We had him.