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The Taste of Patience
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2025-07-20 21:28:55Seraphina’s POV
Ambrosius updated me on the outcome of the meeting not long after it concluded. The sweep had been swift and surgical. Every traceable faction tied to Corwin had been neutralized—either scattered, silenced, or stripped of power.
Still no sign of Corwin himself.
Of course not.
He was a coward. And cowards always knew how to slip away when the knives came out.
“Be patient,” I told myself.
Funny. That used to be his line—soft, clipped, infuriatingly calm.
Now I said it to myself like a chant. A warning. A shield.
But honestly?
Even knowing that a hunter needed patience to snare their prey, it was difficult to accept. Every day spent waiting, strategizing, adjusting the board, was another day Corwin and Diantha got to waste the very wealth they’d stolen—resources that should’ve belonged to others. To the families they betrayed. To Moonbane.
To me.
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The Last Moonbane The Taste of Patience
Seraphina’s POVAmbrosius updated me on the outcome of the meeting not long after it concluded. The sweep had been swift and surgical. Every traceable faction tied to Corwin had been neutralized—either scattered, silenced, or stripped of power.Still no sign of Corwin himself.Of course not.He was a coward. And cowards always knew how to slip away when the knives came out.“Be patient,” I told myself.Funny. That used to be his line—soft, clipped, infuriatingly calm.Now I said it to myself like a chant. A warning. A shield.But honestly?Even knowing that a hunter needed patience to snare their prey, it was difficult to accept. Every day spent waiting, strategizing, adjusting the board, was another day Corwin and Diantha got to waste the very wealth they’d stolen—resources that should’ve belonged to others. To the families they betrayed. To Moonbane.To me.
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Ambrosius’s POVSeraphina stood between me and my death.She didn’t look like a rescuer. Not in the way people imagine them—no shining armor, no glowing runes, no divine entrance. Just a lean silhouette framed by the chamber's flickering red light, sword drawn, hair a little messy, smirking like this was all part of her plan.I stared at her for one breath too long.And she winked.“Hi~.”The clone that wore my face hesitated. Not for long. Just enough.Long enough.Seraphina moved first.One clean step forward. A single slice. The sword carved through the rune-skinned monster behind me with surgical precision, the edge biting into its corrupted spine. It didn’t scream. It simply folded.She turned toward the next one, already calculating.My mind caught up as she ducked a clawed swing and buried her boot into another’s chest. It staggered. She pivoted with the effi
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Ambrosius’s POVCorwin's fortress was carved out of old stone and older silence.It didn't scream danger. That would have been merciful.Instead, it whispered—low, slow, maddening.Every corridor was symmetrical. Every turn familiar. It was a place meant to turn a hunter’s instincts against him.And I walked it alone.Not by choice.The rest of my team had been redirected—separated by a spatial distortion rune woven with blood-thread magic, invisible to the untrained. It triggered only once, and only for someone with a mixed blood signature.Like me.Clever.And very, very Corwin.The moment I crossed the inner threshold, I knew I was in trouble.My vision sharpened unnaturally.Too much.Light fractured. Shadows moved when they shouldn’t. My hearing spiked until I could count the heartbeats of rats nesting three floors below.My magic fluctuated. My
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Ambrosius’s POVThe ground split like breath drawn between clenched teeth.At first, I thought it was just part of Corwin’s show—another illusion, another trick meant to throw me off balance.But the tremor was real.The floor beneath us shifted, groaned, and then—slowly, like something ancient stretching awake after a long slumber—began to open.And from the depths of that darkened pit, something rose.It wasn’t alive.Not in any way the world should recognize.But it moved. It breathed.And its breath stank of blood and salt and magic left to rot.I stepped back as the figure pulled itself onto the stone platform. It was tall—almost my height—but hunched slightly at the shoulders, like it had once stood straight and then forgotten how.Its arms were too long. One of them was clearly inhuman—grafted muscle, pulsing with faint silver veins that didn&rsqu
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