Falling backwards upon his bed, Kyrell let out a frustrated sigh. He was no closer to finding his little dancing gypsy now than he was five hours ago. While he hadn't expected Amelie to come back with anything there had been a part of him that had hoped. The witch quickly sat up--a thought occurring to him--his Tempest hadn't come back empty handed. The fact that she hadn't found Ansley eliminated all the places she could search. Sure, there still might be plenty of places that his little light is hiding, but if you have a thousand places to search and you eliminated two hundred of them that is still less places that you needed to look.
There was something that Mel had said, or was it something that strange creature she had brought with her had said? Whomever had said it had told him they found traces of his little song bird in these places that they had searched. What did that mean? Had she come through those places, leaving little traces of herself behind--like those little bread crumbs someone drops along a trail? Could he follow them to wherever she was being kept? Or was those traces just tiny wisps of her essence floating free from wherever she is being held, and spreading to the other places of that realm--like the scent of freshly baked cookies filling an entire house? If that was the cause could it be followed? Probably.
That was it. That was the answer he was looking for. He now had a way to find his wife. There was just one problem having a way and knowing how to use it was two different things. If Kyrell wanted to find Ansley he needed to enter the realm between life and death. Even without his soul being bond to the void, Astral projection wasn't his strong suit. He had no reason to master the art until now. He knew several people who could pull it off, or at least help him get where he wanted to go. There was Amelie. The witch was certain that if he asked her she would help him, but he decided against it. She had been worried about the well-being of her brother and niece. Had they made it out okay? If the answer is no, she would have a funeral to plan. And if the answer is yes, she probably wanted to spend time with her family before she had to rush off and do anything else. Kyrell knew he would.
Another person he thought could aid him was Keir. His son's specialty was spirit. Not spirit like Aiyana or Astrea. They were spirit rangers while he dealt more with the ghosts of dead witches. Along with the ability to summon the souls of the dead from the afterlife Keir could project his own soul from his body. No, he wouldn't ask him. Keir had his own issue to deal with at this moment. The last person he debating asking was Katia. She had been the one that helped him enter the dreamscape when he went to rescue Everleigh. Was the realm between life and death the same as the dreamscape? Was it similar enough that the same method she used to have him enter the realm of the dreams could allow him to enter this place? No, he wouldn't ask her either. He didn't need to.
Kyrell had watched Katia cast that spell. He knew how it was done, and one of the things that many people claimed made Kyrell remarkable was his ability to learn a spell or skill just by watching someone else perform it. Some of these things he could master on the first attempts while others required practice to perfect, but he believed he knew enough of Katia spell to be able to pull it off or adjust it as necessary.
The spell, however, would be pointless if he had no way to locate Ansley. He glanced around the room, debating if he should enter into this realm between life and death first. The traces of his wife might only be found there. No, he told himself. It was not. Traces of his little flower was everywhere. Moving and flowing through everything. He just needed to imagine them as little strings or a trail of bread crumbs that could be followed. It took a few moments before it actually worked, but it did. The entire room lite up with her traces.
The witch spun around the room, his hand reaching up to those shimmering little lights that danced around the room. He felt her here. He could see her spinning around the room in one of her crazy dances, but at the same time he could see her over by the bed preforming one of her more sensual dances just for him. Everywhere he looked within the room was memories of her. Moments they had spent together as well as ones she had alone. He pulled himself back before he became lost within those memories. These were not Ansley. They were just her finger prints.
Focusing, he begun to dim those little lights until he found the one he was searching for--his little dove on the day she disappeared. Almost painfully so, Kyrell longed to watch every single detail of Ansley's last day, but he knew he couldn't give into that desire. He needed to fast forward through these moments until he found her. With a wave of his hand, he turned the image of her made out of golden lights into a swirling golden light bulb.
It hovered over the bed for a few moments before it was off. The witch chased after it, following it wherever it might lead until it ended up in a cemetery. The ball danced about this place, giving off the impression that there was something here that it wanted him to see. Which was silly, there was no conscious thought within that orb. It was nothing more than the memories of her last day. It had no thoughts or desire for anything outside that memory.
He glanced around, taking everything within the area in. Why had she decided to come to this cemetery? What was so important about it? Then he saw it, her sister's tombstone. He knew it was hers. Not just from the name written upon the gravestone, but also the traces of his little rose all over her grave. Making it clear that this was a place she had visited often. Figuring out that this was where her sister was buried couldn't be the only reason that the orb lingered here. There had to be another reason.
The answer to that hit Kyrell when the orb's light faded. It didn't go out, but it was so dim that if one didn't know better they could make the mistake of thinking that this was where she had died. The swirling light was off again, racing across the ground and making his way towards Sindri's estate. This did not come as a surprise to the witch-king, he knew that Sindri had her before Colden had taken her away. Why he didn't think of starting there first, Kyrell didn't know. Perhaps, because the idea didn't occur to him until this very moment.
Upon entering the estate, the light once again showed it had a will outside the memories that made it up. It moved past Ansley's room. Through, it did give off the impression that it was debating just entering by lingering about her room's entrance for a few seconds, but it was off again with what he imagined was a bah gesture. It raced down the hallway, and into another room. A nursery. The light danced over the crib.
Had this been Ansley's nursery when she had been a tiny infant here? No, he realized this nursery belonged to someone else. Ansley's room he had passed just moments before had been her nursery. It had been changed into her bedroom as she grown. Whose was it? A baby's cry was his answer. He moved across the floor towards the crib, and peered down inside it. A beautiful baby girl greeted him. Her little face red and scrunched with rage, and a loud wail broke free from her lungs. This was his and Ansley's baby.
The information floored him. His and Ansley? She wasn't even pregnant, or if she was there was no way that they could have a baby this...he stopped his thought right there. Of course, it was possible to have a baby this big if Sindri decided to intervene. He had reverted Ansley to a baby when she first got sick with the wasting sickness. Why couldn't he help an unborn infant grow big enough so it can survive outside her mother's womb? His baby kept wailing. Her cries growing louder and louder with each passing moment. Reaching out, Kyrell swooped his daughter from her crib and begun to rock her "There. There. Daddy has you." The wailing ceased. He rocked her for a few moments more before leaning forward to put her down again. He couldn't take her with him. He'll have to come back for her later.
He had no fear leaving his daughter here. Sindri would take care of her. But, nope the baby would have none of that, because as soon as he started to set her down within the crib she let out an ear-piercing wail. "I can't take you with me, sweetheart." Actually, he could if he knew what had been in that potion that Katia made, but he hadn't been around her when she made it. He lowered the baby inside the crib in spite her loud and vocal protest. A new parent might be persuaded to stay with their child until she stopped crying, but Kyrell had learned long ago that sometimes it was best to let them cry it out.
He turned towards the light, expecting it to leave the room as soon as Kyrell attention went upon it. The orb didn't. In fact, the dim, almost impossible to see light grew brighter. Ansley had awoken from her near death state, and entered this room. Was it because she wanted to see her new born child? The answer was yes, because the sound of Ansley singing flowed out of the orb. It was the same lullaby that she had sung for Colden when he had been a baby. It was the same one she sung from him when he crawled into bed with her, and her body was so weak that even opening her eyes was a chore.
It was beautiful, but most of all it lured his daughter to sleep. Leaning forward, he went to give his little girl a kiss upon the forward but the orb vanished right before his eyes. It did not fade or dim. It just vanished. This must have been where Colden had come for his mother. Kyrell guessed the orb wasn't out of it for passing her room, but why did it linger before it like it was debating between entering Ansley's bedroom and coming to their baby's nursery? He pushed the thought off. It really didn't matter, because this was the place he needed to enter into the realm between life and death. Closing his eyes, he focused upon casting the spell. Allowing the words to flow free from his lips until it filled him up with a warm, slow tingly sensation. It grew hotter and faster until every other sensation was forgotten, and then almost too suddenly it stopped. Opening his eyes, Kyrell glanced around.
He knew from the extremely dim orb that danced before him that he had been successful in casting his spell. He was now within the realm between life and death. "What are you waiting for?" He said to the orb. "Find her." It was off once again. Racing through this place until it stopped dead in its tracks. Nothing but air laid before it, or so it would seem. Kyrell knew better than that. This was where his son had been hiding all this time. Most probably just continued through without ever guessing that something was suppose to be here.
Extending his hand, Kyrell released an wave of pure magical energy. There was no spell behind. No manipulation or bending this magic into something else. It was magic in its pure and undiluted form. This magic interacted with the spell that Colden had set up to hide his estate from outside eyes, and caused it to waver enough that Kyrell could slip inside.
Wasting no time, the orb darted down the hallway and Kyrell followed. As he did so, he wondered if he would encounter his son here. Would he be sitting by his mother's bed? The answer revealed itself when Kyrell entered the room that she was being kept at. Colden was nowhere in sight, but it had been clear that he had been here recently. A chair had pulled up next to her bed, and there was an open book laying upon night stand next to it. Picking the book up, Kyrell read the title aloud. "The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe." He turned his eyes towards the bed where Ansley laid, speaking as he did so. "Here I thought he would want to read you Green Eggs and Ham."
His voice became caught within his throat when his eyes finally saw her laying there. His little angel was so beautiful. But, it wasn't just her beauty that elected such a reaction from her. She was still. Perfectly still. Too still, if he was going to be honest. He moved towards her, leaning forward he brushed his lips against hers. "Ansley." He whispered into her. "Wake up."
He kissed her, pulling away when he received no response. "Come on Ansley. Don't you want to hold our daughter? She's beautiful. Looks just like you." Again, nothing. Not even the slightest stir that she had heard him. He settled upon the bed, pulling her into his lap. He felt it rise up inside of him--the hot ugly face of grief. It screamed at him that his little dancing gypsy was gone--dead--and the only thing keeping her here was Colden. No, he refused to believe that. He refused to allow her to die. "How about we sing a song? You used to love to hear me sing even when you claimed that you hated me. I'll need your help. I cannot sing it alone."
Waiting for no answers, he begun to sing.
He knew this particular song held a lot of meaning for Ansley. He recalled the story she told him about her and her sister sneaking into the theater that Wicked had been performing one night, and watching the play. They both had fallen in love with this song, and would often sing it together. Ansley would even sing it to her sister's grave after she had dead, but that wasn't the only reason that he picked it. He felt in many ways the song represented them.
He kept singing even as she remained silence, but the grief that been raising up inside of him begun to scream for release. Tightening his arms around her, he pulled her closer to him, hugging her against his chest. The song ended, and there was nothing for a heartbeat. But, then he saw it. The slightest sign of life. Her eyes flickered open. Oh how cruel it was, because it dropped shut even faster and a greater emptiness illuminated from her than before. "Don't you fucking die on me!" He screamed.
"Bastard." The tiniest, weakest, but most beautiful sounding voice uttered. Ansley's voice. There was no mistaking that. Kyrell smiled as he reached a hand out to stroke her hair.
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