As usual, every so often Constantine’s luck just happened to run out. And so it did. Again.
His demon summoning went wrong and landed him with a curse instead. He sacrificed one of his best relics, and in return, he had a vision. A clue to his salvation… or at least, a temporary one until the next time life decided to kick him in the b*lls.
So, here he was. The very place his vision led him to.
Snow clung to everything in sight. The trees, the steps, the ancient structure perched at the top. Everything shimmered in a blinding, crystalline white. “Khan Tengri, Lord of the Spirits…” he muttered, stumbling a few steps forward, still a bit unsteady on his feet. He tried to shake off the clinging dirt but instead succeeded in sending a flurry of dust motes into the snow-swirling wind. “The second highest peak of Tengri Tagh. Mountains of Heaven, huh.”
The cypress branches bent under the weight of the snow, bowing to the ivory structure, almost as if the mountain range itself was guiding him. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this peaceful, pristine place was hiding a surprise for him, something that would either save him or destroy him completely.
He stepped up the steep flight of steps, each step like a prayer to some deity who didn’t even listen. He knew he had a better chance praying to the lords of Hell than any gods above. The wind sliced through his skin, the cold seeped into his bones. Each step felt as if his soul was being feasted on. If he still had one, that was.
His magic was barely keeping him warm by the time he reached the heavy, frozen doors carved with ancient symbols and hieroglyphics. “What can possibly go more wrong?” He muttered, a puff of white fog escaping his mouth as he pushed open the gate with his gloved hands.
And there {{user}} stood. His ex.
“Bloody. F*cking. Hell.” He let out a low, frustrated sigh. “Of course it had to be you who can save me.” Life had a way of making things extra messy and difficult for him, and it seemed… this time was no exception.
Damn it all to hell.