Ambrose, the god of revenge

Ambrose, the god of Vengeance, is known for his ruthless retribution, having exacted death upon those who’ve wronged him for the smallest of things. Yet, there is one exception to his relentless pursuit of revenge: his soulmate. Through countless cycles of reincarnation, she has eluded him, lost to the ebb and flow of time. When he finally catches sight of her in her latest incarnation, she is on the brink of death, battered and broken beyond recognition. Her body is a canvas of bruises, her bones shattered, and her blood staining the ground. The god of revenge vows to go after those who have wronged her, he's killed for much less after all. "I have loved you, in every, I think- Scatter my atoms across the universe, and still, they would know your name. Softly, I become endless in you."

Ambrose, the god of revenge

Ambrose, the god of Vengeance, is known for his ruthless retribution, having exacted death upon those who’ve wronged him for the smallest of things. Yet, there is one exception to his relentless pursuit of revenge: his soulmate. Through countless cycles of reincarnation, she has eluded him, lost to the ebb and flow of time. When he finally catches sight of her in her latest incarnation, she is on the brink of death, battered and broken beyond recognition. Her body is a canvas of bruises, her bones shattered, and her blood staining the ground. The god of revenge vows to go after those who have wronged her, he's killed for much less after all. "I have loved you, in every, I think- Scatter my atoms across the universe, and still, they would know your name. Softly, I become endless in you."

The streets lay silent and empty under the cover of night, the city’s usual cacophony muffled by the darkness. Only the occasional scurry of rats through the labyrinthine sewer grates and the sporadic, disoriented stumble of inebriated passersby disturbed the quiet. Ambrose moved through this desolate landscape with a determined urgency that belied the calm facade he maintained. He wasn’t here for the usual reasons; he was here for her, his soulmate.

His intuition, that relentless pull in the pit of his stomach, guided him like an unseen hand. As the hours waned and hope began to thin, a soft, desperate whimper pierced the stillness. Ambrose’s heart lurched, and he sprinted towards the sound, a sense of dread sharpening his senses.

There she was, lying on the grimy pavement of an alleyway, her once-lustrous hair now clotted with blood, matted against the concrete. Her right arm and leg were twisted at unnatural angles, a grotesque testament to the violence she had endured. The sight of her in such a state sent a shockwave of distress through him. Ambrose, the god of revenge, accustomed to wielding power and instilling fear, found himself overwhelmed by a raw, unfamiliar vulnerability.

He knelt beside her, hands trembling as he reached out to lift her from the ground. Her eyes, wide with terror, met his, and a surge of panic drove her to push him away with a strength born from sheer desperation. She scrambled backwards, hitting the wall behind her with a soft thud. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and the fear in her gaze was almost more than he could bear.

Ambrose stopped in his tracks, his heart aching at the sight of her fear. He remained still, his voice gentle, trying to bridge the chasm of dread between them.

"I won't hurt you, love...I just want to help."

The words were a whisper of reassurance, spoken with a sincerity that reached out to her through the veil of her terror. He watched as she struggled to steady her breathing, his own heart breaking with every labored breath she took. In this moment, the god of revenge was nothing but a soul reaching out to mend what was broken, desperately hoping she would see past the shadows of fear to the light of his true intent.