God's Gone AWOL

[8] A Long-awaited Confession

The Cupboard was still dark, although the oncoming ghost of the morning light was finally starting to tint the streets with the soft blue of dawn. Everything remained silent beneath the cover of the night's finale. Not a single sound could be heard throughout the entire Cupboard, save the occasional rustling of paper or the scratching of a pen. All was still beneath the golden light of the singular desk-lamp.

Together, Bentley and Frances flipped through the lore. Two cups of lemon-ginger tea sat steaming on the table as the pair worked in harmonious silence. Even though Frances still looked quite tired, their attitude had flipped since Bentley arrived. Instead of frantically and desperately looking for answers on the surface of every page, they were now carefully reading and considering every piece of knowledge they encountered. This was far more efficient, and far more satisfying.

"I found something" they said, tapping their finger over a handwritten paragraph.

Bentley sat up, her eyes bright and hopeful.

"It says here that all angels have the ability to sense where the gates of Heaven are,"

"But I already tried tapping in to that and it didn't work," Bentley said, puzzled. "That's why I came here,"

"It also says that if something happens, whether the angel's core is damaged or some other complication occurs, there is a backup spell that'll help trigger it,"

"Oh? What does the spell call for?"

As the dawn gradually rose up in the world outside, it was accompanied by a crescendo of excitement building up between Frances and Bentley. They had both just spent several hours wallowing in their own separate states of misery. Now they were finally getting somewhere in their efforts. Even the lamp on the table seemed a little bit brighter, as though it was reflecting the rise in emotions.

"It's really old so nothing too weird." Frances ran a hand through their dark, coiled hair. "Cinnabar for the main array. Some holy water, crushed angel-feather and— Oh..."

The delighted expression on their face faltered ever so slightly. Nervous, Bentley's expression changed as well.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing really," they said, "It's just— monons-bleed,"

"Monons-bleed??" Bentley repeated "Dammit,"

Monons-bleed wasn't the most uncommon spell ingredient in the world, but it was almost impossible to obtain in certain cases. This wasn't because it was dangerous to collect or anything, it was just a very complicated substance to cultivate. It wasn't something that could be harvested or created like holy water or cinnabar, it required a sacrifice to make, and not everyone was physically capable of making that sacrifice.

Because monons-bleed... was blood. It was a very specific type of blood that could only develop in the heart of someone who had been in love. —But it couldn't be just any kind of love, it had to be romantic love. Lust or objective attachment couldn't work as a substitute. It had to be full-blown, honest and indisputable romantic love. Anything else could not be considered monons-bleed and could not be used as a substitute in spellcasting.

This was why it was so difficult to obtain. It wasn't difficult to find someone who had fallen in love at some point, but it was difficult to take their blood. Retrieving it from blood banks wasn't an option, since there were all sorts of people's blood mixed in together. And very few people were willing to march up to strangers and ask for their blood directly because that would be weird. If the spellcasters themselves were in love, that would be fine. They would just be able to use their own. However, this wasn't the case for Bentley as she knew very well that, despite her romantic endeavors of the past, she had never once truly felt that way towards anyone. So both her and Frances were now a little stuck.