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Gwen opened the file. The image of the scroll case flooded the screen. James had taken a photo of it, but why? Was this some weird documentation of his crimes? Of how many things he had successfully stolen? Gwen was questioning the possibility when she noticed that James had several internet tabs open.
“Okay, let’s see what you were doing—fuck!”
The internet browser was open to a messenger board onGhost Haunt Huband on full display were pictures of the scroll! The images were half assed, at least, making thescript a little difficult to decipher at first glance. In fact, it looked like a different language entirely. Frantic, Gwen scrolled up a bit to read the headline.
Gwen froze, staring at the screen in shock.James had fucking posted the scroll, asking for insight as to what it was because he wanted tosellit. Her neighbor wasn’t just a thief, but a reseller!
“Oh, you fucking prick,” Gwen growled as she scrolled through the comments.
The discussion board spoke about the origin of the language used. One user thought it could potentially be Ilocano, another said it was Korean. The language discourse soon evolved into what the text actually entailed, with users giving their personal theories. Gwen stopped at a comment with a zoomed in image of Ambrosius’ symbol and a long theory as to what it meant.
Her hands burned the more she read, and a hideous twist in her gut made her feel ill.
This was all her fault.
When Gwen entered her apartment, laptop in hand, she found Ambrosius eerily still on the bed.
“Ambrosius!” she exclaimed, panic lacing her voice. “Are you—”
“I’m fine, I’m just resting my eyes,” he replied, eyes still shut. “Did you find anything?”
“I did,” Gwen murmured.
“And?”
“It’s all my fault … fuck, I killed you.”
Ambrosius’ tired gaze found hers and he frowned. Gwen was blinking back tears, her expression twisted in pain that only grew worse as he stared at her.
“What happened?” he asked.
When her voice failed her, Gwen propped the laptop next to his head. Angling the screen so he could easily see what she had discovered. Ambrosius’ frown deepened, the light of the screen reflecting on the ink now encroaching his face.
“The Bound Obscene?”
“That’s you,” Gwen mumbled. “Or, I think it’s you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I—fuck.” She choked. “James was stealing packages so he could resell them. He took photos of the scroll and posted them on this messaging board, trying to figure out what it was so he could sell it. People started talking, and—fuck. Shit.”
Ambrosius’ hand encircled Gwen’s wrist before sliding to hold her hand. Here he was, offering Gwen comfort when she had fucked him. Still, she owed him this much. Owning up to what she had done.
“People started talking, and the theory around the scroll is that it’s lore on The Bound Obscene. A shackled devil who holds thetruth.People believe that if you release this devil, you’ll unleash the truth into the world, which will lead to radical change. To release The Bound Obscene you have to perform a ritual that will summon the devil to this realm. You need five brides to summon him, and one human vessel to bind him to this world. Once he takes avessel, he’ll pick a bride to impart his knowledge to.” Gwen swallowed back this saliva, tearfully looking at Ambrosius’ weakened body. “Do you know how they start the ritual? They have to sacrifice a whore to the undead.Me, Ambrosius, the sacrifice was me.”
Ambrosius closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling on the lines of his face. Yet, he didn’t let go of her hand and Gwen couldn’t bear it.
“It’s an internet cult, Ambrosius. Because I gave James the scroll, there’s an internet cult dedicated to you. The users on this website are rabid for you, there are fucking illustrations and it’s all my fault—”
“Gwendolyn,stop,” Ambrosius commanded, voice pitching to that deep and unnatural tone.
For once, Gwen quieted without protest.
The demon opened his eyes, deep dark brown staring at her.
“There’s a reason why I never took on a warlock before now. It’s because my power is overwhelming to most humans. It causes them mental distress, the kind most don’t recover from. When humans used to speak of me on the islands, it would create hysteria, and it accelerated quickly. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
When she didn’t respond, Ambrosius pulled Gwen onto the bed until she was close enough for him to cradle her cheek with his free hand. It was unnerving how frail his hand felt against her skin. How sickly he appeared.