Dark Waters Rising

Father

Ambrose Roberts went stiff, his blue eyes scanning frantically over each of the onlookers before they landed again on Wesley. 

"You know me?" he asked in a tone laced with uncertainty. 

Wesley nodded, looking at the older version of himself and realizing for the first time just how much he'd taken after his father. "It's me," he said. "Wesley."

When no recognition crossed his eyes, Wesley's eyebrows furrowed and he continued with, "I'm your son."

"I'm sorry," Ambrose said, seeming to pull into himself. "I don't remember."

The hope Wesley had been harboring turned to ash in his mouth. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from a reunion with the father who'd walked out on his family when he was a child, but this certainly wasn't it. Somehow, knowing his father had forgotten him felt worse than thinking he was dead.

To his surprise, Ambrose followed his statement with, "Do you know Waverly?"

Wesley blinked away the painful pricks forming in his eyes and looked back up at the man. 

"Aye," he said.

Ambrose licked his lips, again uncertain as he asked, "Who is she?"

"My little sister," Wesley said. "Your daughter."

A sort of warmth filled his face at the thought, making it soften as hope filled his eyes. 

"Where is she now?"

"She's dead." Wesley didn't sugarcoat it.

All that had built up on Ambrose's face fell in that moment. He stumbled backward, disappearing into the room he'd initially appeared out of. Wesley followed him out of instinct, Andromeda and Evander close behind. 

The room opened up into a cluttered office once Wesley stepped through the doorway. He found his father collapsed into a chair with his head in his hands. 

With a soft exhale, Wesley approached him and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. 

"I've failed," the man said through the heaviness in his chest. His fingers raked through his hair and linked at the back of his neck. 

Wesley's hand fell from his shoulder as he did so, and as the man tried desperately not to break down, his son was drawn to the walls of the room. 

Over and over again, the name Waverly was scratched into the stone. It was the workings of a madman, he was sure. 

"What happened to you?" he breathed the question. 

"I don't know," Ambrose admitted. "I don't remember how I got here, or why I came. I just know that the books won't let me leave."

When he caught sight of Evander peeking over at one of the opened tomes, his hand shot out faster than the blink of an eye. Compelled by an unseen force, the book slammed shut, causing Evander to flinch backward and return his attention to the man. 

"Trust me, you don't want to read that," he said solemnly. 

Evander held up his hands in surrender, "I can't even read."

"Consider yourself lucky, then," Ambrose slumped back in his seat, relaxing a bit after the close call. 

"Why?" Wesley was curious, his question forcing the elder man's gaze back on him. 

He looked so tired, weighed down by impossible burdens for far too long. 

"Some of the most powerful magic in the world is catalogued in these books. The information has been collected and protected here for centuries. To safeguard against any one person becoming too powerful, reading them comes with a steep price."

"What kind of price," Wesley asked, not having a good feeling about the answer. 

Ambrose's eyes were bleary as he stared at the book he had just forced to shut from across the room. "For every page you read, you lose a precious memory."

It suddenly made sense why his father thought him a stranger.

"It took me a while to realize what was happening. All I knew was that I couldn't forget Waverly. I had to remember. At all costs."

Wesley glanced again at the walls. Reminders to himself. A mantra to keep his mind focused. 

With a sudden realization, Wesley muttered under his breath, "You were looking for a cure."

"It didn't work," Ambrose said dejectedly. "I forgot anyway. It was all for nothing. I failed."

The four people were silent for a good while after that bit of information came to light. In a way, Wesley was silently mourning the loss of his father. The one he remembered from his childhood, who'd always told him grand stories about magical adventures when it was time for him to sleep. That man was gone. Erased by the very magic he used to rave about.

"Do you remember anything? From before?" Wesley asked sadly, loud enough for everyone to hear this time.

Ambrose shook his head, his eyes distant. "If Claudius hadn't have written it down in his book, I wouldn't even know my own name."

What a cruel twist of fate. The silence stretched.

"You said the books won't let you leave," Andromeda picked up the dropped conversation. "Why?"

The man's blue eyes flicked up to meet lavender. "They've chosen me as their guardian. I cannot leave this place until they've chosen another."

"You speak as if they're alive," Evander noticed. 

"Life is the greatest magic of all," it was said in unison. Both Ambrose and Andromeda's lips had formed around the words. Their eyes met, and an understanding passed between them.

"Wes," Andromeda's voice caused the merchant's attention to shift fully to her. "This complicates our plan."

She was right.  

He wasn't sure what to do anymore.

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A/N

What's one job you've always wanted to have (money not being an issue)?

Happy reading,
-Mora Montgomery