the start of eternity

Ambrose's ears were ringing. She hated it when her ears produced that high-pitched buzz. She sighed, frustrated, and reached for the comforting touch of her old cloak.

It wasn't there.

She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Her eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room. She was on a thin mattress, in an area that seemed impossibly dark. She spotted some curtains and yanked them open, and saw absolutely nothing.

"You're awake," said a soft voice, and Ambrose froze. She turned around to face the figure and screamed out of fear and surprise. The figure chuckled. "Pardon me, I forgot that my true form can be rather... frightening." There was a pause, and the figure morphed into a pale young man, with blonde curls and black eyes.

"Who are you?" Ambrose whispered, her voice barely audible. She trembled from head to toe.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I'm a lot of different things. But for your sake, you can call me Nicholas."

"Don't lie." Her voice grew stronger, and Nicholas looked amused.

"Fine, little Ambrose. I will tell you the truth," He morphed back into his true self, and Ambrose couldn't help but gasp again. "I am Death." There was a pause. "I know that might come as a surprise, and that you might not believe me," he continued, hastily. "But –"

"What happened to my parents?" Asked Ambrose, her voice sounding ethereal. Death hesitated before speaking again, and his voice sounded softer.

"They drowned, Ambrose. So did everyone on that boat." Ambrose closed her eyes, her heart racing.

"If everyone drowned... Why am I here?"

"You died, too."

"Shouldn't I be somewhere else, then?" She raked her mind in search for the word her mother had spoken of occasionally. "H-Heaven? Is that what it is?"

"You should've gone... up there." He gestured upwards. "But as you have noticed, you are not."

"Why?"

"Because, Ambrose Natte Littleray, I have decided to keep you here with me." Death morphed back into the young man with curls, and smiled down at her. She was too perplexed to smile back.

"But why?" She demanded, forgetting her manners.

"That will be a story for another time." He smiled again, and stood up to open the curtains further.

Ambrose had a million questions swirling in her head, and she finally settled on one.

"Where are we?" She glanced at the window. "Mr. Nicholas?" Nicholas chuckled again.

"Why, we are wherever you desire to be," he took her small hand and pulled her to the window. "Iceland." He said, and the view outside changed to one that Ambrose assumed was Iceland. "The Khmer Empire." The view changed to a swelteringly hot area with a vast amount of people milling about. "Japan." They were suddenly in a small garden, surrounded by blossoming trees. Ambrose looked around, bewildered. "You give it a try, just say the country of the place you want to be, and think about the specific location."

"E-England." Ambrose muttered, thinking hard about the farm. The view changed again, and they were transported to the middle of the Littleray farm. She turned to look at Nicholas. "Can they see us?" He shook his head, looking forlorn. She felt tears forming, and quickly blinked them away. "France." She whispered, thinking about anything else but the farm. They were taken to the heart of a glen.

"Ambrose." Nicholas put his hand on her shoulder.

"Are there others like you?" She questioned, ignoring his hand.

"No," he sighed, thinking about Life, and looked out the window. "As I said before, I am Death. My job is to guide souls to the afterlife, where they are then handed to someone else."

"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be... saving all of the souls?" He sighed at her question, and gently lifted his hand of her shoulder.

"Look." He waited for her to turn to him, and he duplicated himself, and waved the clone away. "It's simple. I send out –" he paused, and searched for the right word. "– copies of myself."

"That's a strange way to put it."

"But then again, isn't this entire situation strange?" Ambrose giggled shyly at his statement.

"You're right." She looked more relaxed, and her facial features softened. "Mr. Nicholas –"

"Please, call me Nicholas." She nodded fervently, not wanting to disappoint or anger him.

"Nicholas, then." She looked down at her chubby fists as she frowned in confusion. "What do you need me for?" Nicholas swept his curls from his face, and hesitated.

"Before we get into that, Ambrose –"

"Please, call me Rosie." She imitated him, smiling nervously.

"Rosie, then." He looked at her, amused. "Before we get into that, there is something extremely important that I must inform you of." He looked at her again, and she tilted her head as her emerald eyes gazed into his. He held his breath – not that he needed to breathe – and continued. "You're a witch."

"That's not very kind of you to say." She looked slightly offended.

"No – I didn't mean it that way, Rosie. You're a real witch, one with magic." He glanced out the window. "A very powerful one, in fact."

"So when I was talking to Patton, I was communicating to him with magic?" She asked, befuddled.

"I – I assume so, yes." There was a pause.

"Did I cause the storm on the boat, then?"

"No," he said, hastily. "You didn't. Those were other wizards –"

"There are others?"

"There are a hefty bunch of witches and wizards all over the world."

"Wow." She breathed, and looked out the window again, and suddenly looked flustered. "But Nicholas, I have no idea how to be a witch."

"In time, you will learn."

"Will you teach me?" She looked up to him, her eyes dancing.

"Of course." He grinned at her, and she found herself beginning to enjoy his company.

"I don't mean to be rude, but what do you need me for?" She centered the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

"You're awfully smart, for a four-year-old." chuckled Nicholas.

"I can't even write or read yet, my parents haven't had the chance to teach –" Her words hung in the air.

"You'll learn, in all due time."

"Nicholas, am I..." she paused again, and searched for the right word.

"Immortal?" She nodded her head. "You are. But you'll continue growing. It's up to you to decide when you want to stop."

"What if I don't want to stop?"

"I don't know," He said, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. Ambrose stayed silent for a while, her mind processing all of the information he had just told her. "I can tell you what I need you for, Rosie. I can tell you now, or I can tell you when you're of age," She tilted her head slightly. "When you're seventeen. That's considered of age in the wizarding world."

"Will I understand if you tell me now?" Nicholas nodded.

Ambrose clasped her hands together as her mind buzzed. She wanted to know. Of course she did. She feared that it would be too much for her to take – in less than twenty-four hours, Ambrose had discovered she was a witch, lost both of her parents, and was told by Death himself that she was immortal. 

It was a little strange, yes, but Ambrose couldn't help but believe every word that Nicholas had told her.

She rubbed her eyes and let her curiosity overcome her senses. Although she had been through hell and back, and deserved a longer rest, Ambrose felt as if she wouldn't fully be able to trust Nicholas if he did not tell her right away. She looked up to Nicholas and nodded, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

"I suppose I'll start at the beginning," he started, gesturing to Ambrose to sit in one of the two large sofa chairs. "You see, Rosie, this world has been carefully crafted. The evil and the good seem to balance each other. When something horrible happens, there is always something better that compensates for it." Nicholas checked to see if Ambrose was following before continuing again. "However, in the wizarding world, it is easier to rise to power. Along with magic, wizards are much more powerful than regular human beings." He paused again, and gathered his thoughts. "Now, generally, wizards have always been in a functioning society with very little crisis. However, I am able to get a gist of the future, if you comprehend, and I am able to see that it will not always be this way." Ambrose's eyes widened, but she kept her silence. "This is where you come in, Rosie, you –"

"You want me to stop them?" Ambrose interrupted, forgetting about her manners. She realized what she did and hastily apologized. Nicholas chuckled.

"Ah, it's no matter. You were simply surprised. But yes, I do eventually want to send you back to the world, and to stop various wizards and witches from completely destroying the world."

"Why do you care so much? You're Death. Shouldn't you be happy that more people are dying, right?" Ambrose opened her mouth to continue, but was halted by Nicholas.

"Ambrose." He said, coolly, using her full name. "I was sent here to protect this Earth. I can't stop the little things – such as the accident your parents were in – but I do the best of my ability to make sure that not one person gets the chance to completely take over the world." Ambrose sensed his tone, but did not comment. "The difference between Muggles – those are non-magic folk – and wizards, is that wizards have the capability of conquering me."

"Conquering you? Meaning they can... kill you?"

"No, they can't. But they can conquer Death."

"I don't understand." Ambrose answered, looking genuinely confused.

"The idea of conquering Death simply means that they strive to become immortal," Ambrose looked shocked at the fact that this was possible, and Nicholas continued. "It is not good for humans to conquer Death – it offsets the entire balance of this world."

"But it has happened before?"

"There have been many unsuccessful attempts, but as time continues, I fear that the attempts will get closer to the desired outcome."

"Can you see future?" Ambrose questioned excitedly, forgetting that he had mentioned it before.

"I get glimpses of what will happen, yes." Nicholas said, vaguely. Ambrose could see that he did not wish to tell her everything immediately, so she decided to try to get the answer out of him later.

"You're sending me in then. To try and stop the ones who want to conquer you," Ambrose's excitement piqued, and she stood up, thinking about the fame she could acquire. "I'll be a world renowned evil-wizard-stopper." She added.

"You won't." Nicholas set a hand on her shoulder.

"I won't?"

"When I send you back down there, Rosie, you will only play a small role in the death of these wizards or witches."

"A small role?" She sounded disappointed.

"It is crucial that you do not become well-known," Ambrose stayed silent, and did not question Nicholas. "You won't be immortal when I send you down to Earth. You'll have a specific task, and I highly doubt that you will stray from it. After you complete the task, you will be destined to die, and you will join me here once more." Ambrose swallowed the information, and took some time to think yet again.

"If I understand this correctly, every time you send me down to Earth to take part in stopping someone, I'll be someone different?" Nicholas nodded. "And will I remember you whilst I'm down there? Or will my memories be erased every single time?" Nicholas looked uncomfortable, and paused before speaking.

"You'll remember your mission, Rosie, your destiny. You'll still have your magical capabilities, and if you live past the age of seventeen," Ambrose narrowed her eyes. "You will remember everything."

There was a pause, and Ambrose's eyes looked like they could illuminate the entire planet. She glanced out of the window, and let the peacefulness of the glen wash over her. She was eager about the idea that she would be able to return to Earth, even though she wouldn't be very important.

"When do I begin?" She asked, sounding extremely determined for a four-year-old. Nicholas smiled and took her hand.

"You begin now, Ambrose Natte."

◦ ◦ ◦

2016 words, it's 2016, and i'm nearly 16 (i have 6 months to go, whatever)! happy new year everyone!

i hope you guys enjoyed reading this update, because i definitely enjoyed writing it. it was hard to put everything together, but hopefully you understand why death needs ambrose and all of that. 

do you like nicholas/death?! 

love,

clara

ps: the picture above is what I imagined nicholas to look like (note: this is not what death looks like, but rather the man that death morphs into when he sees himself as a human)