A Charmed Reincarnation (Season 1)

０１• Ｗｈｅｒｅ Ｙａ Ｂｅｅｎ Ｃｕｚ

𝓔𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭: 06/19/24

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*🅔🅝🅙🅞🅨 🅡🅔🅐🅓🅘🅝🅖 🅜🅨 🅦🅘🅣🅒🅗🅔🅢 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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The manor loomed before Ambrose, an imposing edifice of faded pink brick and gabled roofs. He eyed it warily through the windshield, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the steering wheel.

"So, how should I introduce myself again?" he asked, casting a sideways glance at the elegant figure seated beside him.

God regarded him with a look of infinite patience, lips curved in a faint smile. "Just tell them you're their cousin," she said, as casually as if discussing the weather rather than deceiving the Charmed Ones.

Ambrose swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away to stare at the manor's ornate front door—a mere ten steps from where he currently sat, but it may as well have been a mile. He'd thought he was ready for this, prepared to insert himself into the lives of his favorite fictional characters. But now that the moment had arrived...

Doubt and trepidation swirled through his mind like a relentless riptide, threatening to sweep away what little resolve he'd managed to muster.

"Do you realize that to them, I'm a complete stranger?" he asked, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone as he turned back to God. "Just some random guy off the street, claiming to be family?"

Her expression didn't so much as flicker, that same serenity radiating from her ageless features. "You truly are their cousin, Ambrose," she said, so matter-of-fact that he almost believed her. "When I reincarnated you into this world, I arranged everything—you have the paperwork and documentation to prove your lineage. You are as much a Halliwell as you are a Maverick. It's in your blood."

She shifted in her seat then, golden eyes finding and holding his hazel gaze with an intensity that stole his breath. For an endless heartbeat, Ambrose simply stared, captivated despite himself by her ethereal beauty.

Flawless, creamy skin, untouched by time's cruel erosion. Long, lustrous brunette tresses that seemed to shimmer and dance with an inner light all their own. High, sculpted cheekbones and full lips that could have been carved from marble by a master sculptor's hand.

In that moment, it was almost impossible to reconcile this timeless, celestial being with the concept of something as mundane as immense power. And yet, Ambrose knew better than most just how deceptive appearances could be.

Beneath that serene, unruffled exterior lurked a wellspring of arcane might so vast, so incomprehensible that even trying to grasp its true depths made his head spin. This was the divine force that had not only plucked his soul from the void after his untimely demise, but had woven the very fabric of reality itself.

God was beauty, to be sure—but also power beyond mortal reckoning. A fact he would do well not to forget, no matter how casual or approachable her manner might seem.

Dragging his attention back to the present with an effort of will, Ambrose raked his gaze over his own reflection in the rearview mirror. His complexion stood out in stark contrast to God's pale, luminous perfection—rich mahogany tones that spoke to his mixed African and European heritage. A mop of thick, unruly curls the color of bitter chocolate framed sharply angled features, framing eyes that currently shone with a potent blend of uncertainty and determination.

I'm going to have to convince them that my black self is a part of their very white family, he mused, unable to shake the knot of trepidation coiling in his gut. The only person of color I remember being significant on the show was Darryl.