Before long, the thread appeared again, uncoiling from his chest and taking the same path away from him. Cirian let out a long exhale, eyes fluttering open as his shoulder sagged.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” he said, voice thick. “Just working out a theory. Unfortunately, it appears that I was correct.”
“About?”
He looked at me finally, the thread listing lazily around his chest.
“At this current juncture, it would seem that I’m only able to manifest this tether under a certain physical condition.”
“Physical condition?” I repeated. “I don’t understand.”
He leaned in closer, glancing over his shoulder before continuing. “Uh, it would seem that it only works if I’m… aroused.”
“Aroused?”
“For Source’s sake,” Cirian breathed. “My cock has to be hard, Azrael. If it’s not hard, no tether.”
“Oh. So, you need to be in heat for this to work?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Can you keep it up long enough?”
“I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating.”
“Do you need me to help with that?—”
He slid away from me, rising to his feet and stalking away. I followed after him, giving him proper space as he paced the edge of the sanctuary, the light of the tether slowly fading as he did so, till it receded inward.
“You seem upset,” I said after a moment. “I apologize if I said something that offended.”
“It’s not that,” he replied, his pacing slowing. “Sorry, Az. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”
“If we need to find another way, then we can.”
He shook his head, letting out another pent breath. “No, you’re right. We don’t have a moment to spare here. If this is the only way to find Bastien, then I will bear it.”
“Then you’re ready?”
“Yes. I just need to check on Sancha before we go. It will only take a moment.”
“Take as long as you need.”
Cirian nodded, straightening the fabric of his vestments before traversing the center aisle of the sanctuary, headed towards the altar that watched over the intimate space.
I kept my distance, watching him as he knelt down to the woman who leaned against the stone dais. Two other Hallowed members flanked her sides, each holding onto a hand as they chanted under their breath, no doubt attempting to slow the leeching of her magic from the wound of the Sanguine blade. The Cardinal lifted her head as Cirian approached, though her eyes remained closed.
“You’re leaving again,” she said, her voice but a whisper.
“Aye, I am. Azrael is here now, and we’ve determined a way to find Bastien out in the dark. With him by our side, I have no doubts we’ll figure out a way to break ourselves of this place.”
Sancha drew in a long, ragged breath. The walls of the sanctuary seemed to rattle alongside her lungs. This place would not last. It was the unspoken reality that swirled around us all.
“I have no doubt you’ll find him,” she wheezed. “But be careful, my boy. I have not the strength to bear the weight of my sorrow should something befall you.”
“Wipe it from your mind. I will return. And I will send this darkness back to whatever corner of the Ether that it crawled from. I vow this.”
