15.
chapter fifteen
is he a soothsayer?

Ash leaned heavily against me as we tumbled through the doorway. His breath came out in ragged puffs, sending a wave of panic each time he groaned.

I barely managed to sit him down properly on the couch the minute we entered the living room. Another wave of increasing worry rolled over me when his head lolled back, still taking sharp and short breaths.

"Stay right here," I said, despite my voice trembling. The handkerchief that I had tied around his wound didn't suffice, now letting droplets of the bodily fluid drip onto his shirt. "I'll get the first aid."

When Ash didn't respond, I rushed to the cabinet where we usually kept our first aid. In a flurry, I didn't notice Mom asking something. I barely registered the basic answer I gave her. "Ash's hurt! I need to patch him up!"

Or the basic answer she gave: "I'll get some towels and water."

When I got back, Ash was sitting as straight as he possibly could, clutching his arm tightly as if to stop the bleeding. His eyes widened when I kneeled down before him, taking the antiseptic out.

"Give it here," he hummed, extending his free hand. I shot him a glare that didn't quite faze him.

"You're hurt, and I'm patching you up," I said, voice brimming with conviction. Mom placed a basin of water and a few towels to my side as I worked on removing the handkerchief. "End of discussion."

Ash shook his head, wincing when I placed a wet cloth on his wound, trying to clean it. "Serena," he murmured, eyes narrowing out of pain. "You shouldn't do this. It isn't safe—for you, I mean."

"I don't care," I countered, tears stinging my eyes. I could feel Mom's sharp gaze at the back of my head, tentative and puzzled. "You don't get to decide what is safe for me and what isn't. Even if you become a doctor."

Ash shook his head. His voice turned serious when he spoke. "It's my blood. It's the reason I'm holding back."

There was a soft gasp from behind me, but I couldn't figure out what Ash actually meant.

I momentarily stopped cleaning his wound, instead pressing a cloth to it to gauge his pained face. My heart dropped, worse possibilities ringing in my mind like a timer. "You mean, like a disease?"

"More like... say..." He looked away, biting his trembling lip. "Powerful enough to change the threads of destiny..."

I froze. Was Ash a soothsayer?

As if naturally understanding my thoughts, his eyes widened, and he hurried to reassure me. "No, not like a soothsayer. It's... complicated."

My heart was ready to burst forth with all the anticipation and confusion hanging in the air. For some reason, Mom wasn't active in the conversation, choosing instead to watch us with piercing blue eyes.

I reached for his hand, feeling his warm and sticky blood on my fingers when I gripped it tightly, urging him forward. Pressing a thin smile, I whispered, audible enough for both him and Mom to hear, "Ash, I want you to share it. I swear I will not judge you for anything."

Ash sighed, his breath shallow. When his eyes came to rest on mine, I felt my heart thud heavier against its enclosure.

"It grows stronger every time I bond with my soulmate... With you. With every touch, every laugh... I grow stronger, but it attracts people—bad people." He finished his explanation, his expression turning somber despite the words being enunciated as if I were a child.

I was about to open my mouth, retort that I didn't care if my safety was the reason he was holding back, but Mom spoke up.

"You're not the only one with that burden."

A puzzled look tugged at my lips when she walked the distance to kneel down beside me. Her face fell as she looked at Ash, her hand stopping short of ruffling his sweat-damp hair.

"Mom?" I stammered, trying to make sense of whatever bizarre scene was unfolding in front of me. However, she looked down, almost mirroring Ash from before.

"When your dad and I married each other, every interaction led to the increase of his power. Months before you were born, he fled the country."

I blinked, trying to process the whole load of information that I had been ignorant of until now.

You see, folks, I only knew my father through some photos. And to learn the reason why... my mind had broken into a race to put the puzzle pieces together.

Blood of an individual, as far as I know, was the field of the destiny changers—the soothsayers who dealt with blood magic to weave a different ending to fate and life as a whole in itself.

There were some hunters, seekers of powerful bloods smeared in the pages of history—lost history that seemed too irrelevant for this modern day. Were they the ones who chased Dad? The ones who are after ruining Ash and me?

Blood boiled within my veins, the train of thought ending on its railing. I spread some of the antiseptic on a towel before dabbing it gently on the angry wound. Ash hissed, grimacing, but didn't pull back.

A long moment of silence stretched before Mom exhaled, getting to her feet. "I'll be in the study if you... need me, Sweetie," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I nodded, soundlessly working on bandaging Ash's arm. The cut was deep, if not fatal, clinging to every inch of his red skin and trying to pull more of his lifeblood out. Despite my work, a trickle of the red liquid oozed into the fresh bandage.

"Serena?"

My heart sank, words dying at the back of my tongue when his unsure whisper resonated within my ears, the very syllables of my name tugging at my heartstrings.

"Do you know what it's like... to be kept in the dark, thinking you aren't strong enough to face a few people for the one person who means the entire world?" I whispered, my hands lingering over his bandage.

I didn't meet Ash's eyes even when he answered. "Do you know how it feels to keep a huge secret to protect someone you love?" His tone wasn't accusatory, but the words' sharp contrast; he was all in for blaming himself.

"Yes," I answered, flinching when his free hand came to rest on mine. My fingers trembled under his grip, but so did his on mine. "I'm aware." My mind reeled to the recent times I was shying away from my friends, unwilling to confront them about the reason behind my worry—Ash.

"You know... when it gets too hard to handle, you feel like crying, but you can't because you're supposed to be strong. And you want nothing more than someone to comfort you."

I couldn't take it anymore. Our eyes met before our bodies instinctively reached for the other's warmth. His uninjured hand tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against the couch and into his chest. His breath was alarming, still sharp and begging.

"Ash," I whispered against his shoulder. My vision blurred, tears threatening to spill any moment. "I don't care who's behind your blood. I want to stay by your side."

Ash groaned softly, shifting to accommodate me on the couch. I felt his warm touch caress my hair as if they were strings made of gold—soft and comforting. Hoping to reciprocate the feeling, I clung to his neck, hands balling into fists so as not to spread his blood to his messy locks.

"You're really stubborn, aren't you?" he whispered, a heartbeat later. A shiver ran down my spine when his lips fondled my forehead. Melting into his embrace, I hummed softly, nuzzling my nose in the crook of his neck.

"I'll gladly take that negative adjective if it meant an always with you."

— 🫧 —

Ah, the mystery
is finally revealed.
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