ã€ŠBlood Divine Seriesã€‹


 Chapter One: First Impressions: Part One

    Chapter One: First Impressions: Part One

    Isn¡¯t it strange how what was once world-shaking can become almost mundane once you get used to it?

    I gently used the spatula to shift my eggs from the pan to the plate.  If not, then the yolks would burst.  Most of the time I like them well cooked, but on a whim, I decided to try making them a bit runnier today.  The eggs join the mushrooms, cooked tomatoes, toast, baked beans, and bacon on the plate.

    Ah, the good old English breakfast, truly the best way to start the day.

    Sitting down at the small table in the kitchen, I clicked on the TV set up at the end of the counter.  It was small, brand new, and had a surprisingly good picture.  Doug had won it as one of the prizes in some first-person shooter tournament.  Since he already had some pretty impressive screens and monitors in his rooms, he¡¯d made this one a communal telly.  It was nice for mornings like this, where I could just click it on and watch something while eating.

    ¡°. . . ¨Cshows no sign of ending at any point in the near future.  The rebel forces, backed by an as yet unidentified deity, are pushing further towards the capital city of Abuja.  As of yet, civilian casualties have been remarkably light, however large portions of the country¡¯s military have been captured and taken into custody.  We have a report from Andrew Naylor on the scene.¡±

    The image of the news presenter shifted to a man in his middle years standing at the side of a dirt road.  In the background, a large wire fence encircled an area with a large number of tents and simple wooden huts within.

    ¡°Behind me stands one of the large camps that have been erected to serve as housing and detention centres for the defeated soldiers of the Nigerian military.  A week ago, these men and women were working to suppress the recent uprising of the forces of the god tentatively identified as ?¨¤ng¨®, but now they are defeated and stripped of their weapons, completely at the mercy of the force they fought against.¡±

    The man turned and waved at the camp behind him, before turning back to face the camera.

    ¡°Fortunately, it would seem that the mercy of their captors is most admirable.  We were granted access to the captured soldiers, and as far as we can see there is no sign of violence or mistreatment.  The prisoners are afforded a healthy diet and medical care, fully in keeping with all international laws.  Here are a few interviews with both the captives and members of the rebel army.¡±

    The picture changed to the reporter inside a tent speaking to an African man in military fatigues.

    ¡°What are your feelings on your current circumstances?¡±

    Next to the reporter, a man translated the question and as the man in the military clothing began to answer his words were then drowned out as a dubbed translation began.

    ¡°Though I do not believe the rebels are in the right in their actions I am happy that they are being civilized in their rebellion.  Africa has a history of regimes being overthrown and then replaced with a poorer system.  While I do not agree with the method the rebels are taking, I am thankful for the civility in their actions.  I hope that they and the government will still come to a peaceful solution.¡±

    The scene changed and the reporter, still accompanied by his translator, was now standing outside one of the tents, this time addressing a woman.  She wore similar military clothes to the man, but she had a gun at her hip and a brightly colour badge pinned to the left side of her chest.

    ¡°What were your reasons for taking part in this rebellion?¡± the reporter asked, his guide translating for him.  The reply was given, and the voice-over translation began.

    ¡°The government has been trying its best, but it is unprepared to deal with the changes that have been rocking the world.  Great ?¨¤ng¨® has proven his power and his good intentions, so it is for the best of this country if he can assume power.  Unfortunately, the government has not chosen to stand down, so we must take steps to change their minds, even if it is through force.¡±

    Again, the picture changed, taking us back to the reporter standing outside the camp.

    ¡°The situation remains uncertain.  One can only hope that matters are able to find a peaceful resolution before the violence escalates further.¡±

    The picture returned to the studio as the newscaster shuffled some papers before looking up to face the camera.  By his side, a new picture showed a modern suburban setting.  The houses were covered in masses of plastic garbage.  Bottles, ropes, nets, can rings, plastic bags, just great lumps of condensed and unrecognizable debris, all of it draped across the houses in a single huge mass that had an almost organic look to it.  Here and there one could see bits of wood and seaweed mixed in with the rubbish, a silent testament to its origin.  The mess extended over the lawns and porches of the homes, spilling out onto the roads and pavements.

    ¡°This morning a small American neighbourhood in San Francisco found itself buried in refuse as it came raining down from the sky.  Though nobody was seriously hurt, substantial damage was dealt to homes and vehicles in the area.¡±

    The picture took up the full screen and I could see where a section of a roof had caved in under a plastic crate filled with more rubbish.  The crate had fallen in just the right way to punch through the tiled roof.  The picture then switched to several broken windows; the glass shattered into jagged shards.

    ¡°It has been confirmed that the refuse originated from the eastern Great Pacific Rubbish Patch, having somehow been expelled from the sea and sent flying inland.  This represents the fourth such expulsion of plastic debris in the last week, and as before the residents of the affected area are of mixed views on what had taken place.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The screen shifted to an interview with a young woman standing in front of one of the houses that were partially buried in plastic waste.  She was dressed in a white t-shirt and had her blonde hair done up in a ponytail that poked out of the back of her baseball cap.  Despite the grim scene behind her she had an energetic grin on her face and was directing it at the reporter that was holding a microphone out to her.

    ¡°I¡¯m not happy this has happened, but I¡¯m trying to see the bright side, y¡¯know?¡± She explained while waving at the sea of rubbish. ¡°Pretty much all of this is plastic, so once we can get it all piled up it can all be recycled.  I get why some people are *beep*-ed, but look at what we can do!  I mean, this is gonna be something like a year¡¯s worth of recycling in one go!  That¡¯s gotta be worth something, right?¡±

    I felt my lips twitch slightly at the censor bleep as she spoke, amused that the BBC still used that, even as swearing was becoming more common in the media.  More than that though, I was interested in the girl¡¯s attitude.  It was peppy, but a cynical side of me wondered if she¡¯d keep up the same attitude once the camera was no longer on her.

    The scene switched to a middle-aged man standing next to a battered car that seemed to have several spider webs of cracks on the windscreen.  Unlike the woman he wasn¡¯t smiling, instead, his expression was distinctly thunderous.

    ¡°This . . . this is outrageous!¡± He snapped. ¡°I am conscientious about recycling, I put litter away where it needs to go, and . . . and this is what happens?!  These gods don¡¯t give a damn about us!  They don¡¯t care whether we¡¯re meeting their standards or even trying, they just do whatever they want, and we¡¯re left to clean up the mess, if we make it through alive!¡±

    The man¡¯s face was turning an unhealthy shade of red, and his cheeks visibly twitched.  However, as clear as his anger was, so was his fear.

    ¡°It¡¯s . . . it¡¯s not right, you know?  It¡¯s not right at all.¡±

    The picture changed once more to the newsroom, the presenter facing the camera as the image beside him panned across the multiple houses buried in trash.

    ¡°This incident is simply the latest in a recurring series that began after the deities Poseidon, Neptune, and Tiamat all began efforts to, in the words of Hermes, ¡®cleanse their waters of the filth of mortal folly¡¯.  Many environmental groups have rejoiced at these developments, claiming that this is merely the natural order re-establishing itself now that its guardians have returned, but there are increasing concerns regarding the outcome of these actions.¡±

    The picture was replaced with a chart, one with a red line that was climbing at a disturbingly sharp angle.

    ¡°Since these incidents began the amount of waste being hurled inland has increased with each incident.  As of yet, it has proven to be more of a nuisance than a genuine danger, but there is concern that as the amounts increase the damage will grow.  At the beginning of the year, it was estimated that there was at least as much as eight million tonnes of waste spread across the oceans.¡±

    Now the picture displayed a mass of plastic rubbish floating in the ocean.

    ¡°Word has reached us that the American government is hoping to open talks with the ocean gods through such intermediaries as Hermes and Iris.  The hope is to arrange a designated target for the ejections of rubbish.  However, given how earlier negotiations with deities have proceeded, hopes for success are flagging.¡±

    The picture next to the news presenter faded to white and then was replaced with a new image.  This time there was a picture of smashed buildings and torn-up streets next to him.

    ¡°Two days ago, the small American town of Evansmouth in Missouri was enjoying their ninety-seventh founding anniversary.  Yesterday it was reduced to ruins as it became the third and worst casualty of the ongoing battle between an angel and a demon, neither of which has been identified as of yet, that continues to rage across eastern America.  So far there have been a confirmed twenty-seven dead and at least thirty-five injured, with the cost of the damage dealt to the town¡¯s buildings and infrastructure still unclear.¡±

    Some more pictures came up, but I deliberately glanced down at my plate, not wanting to see them.  The images of the shattered town, they were reminders of just how easy it was to be caught in the middle of a clash of forces easily able to crush me and my life like ants caught under a footstep.  The area I lived in was small and out of the way, and the UK had managed to avoid more than a few incidents after the return of the King, but even so, seeing things like that, it was disturbing.  Still, it didn¡¯t last long, and when I finished, I looked up to see what was being reported now.

    ¡°-as of yet is still under discussion!¡±

    The screen didn¡¯t show the broken town now, instead, the picture was of Buckingham Palace, large crowds gathered outside it.  Many of them were holding up signs with such slogans as; ¡®Let the King Take His Throne¡¯, ¡®One True King, Now¡¯ and ¡®The King Is the Land, the Land for the King¡¯.  It was all easily recognizable, this sort of thing had been going on for more than a couple of months now, it had been plastered all over the news to the point where it was almost depressing how it seemed to be blotting everything else out.

    ¡°No official word has been released on what the King¡¯s official response is, but with increasing public pressure it is only a matter of time before an official stance will have to be adopted by the government!¡±

    Again, the screen came back to the news presenter, this time with a silhouette of a cow with a question mark inside it displayed next to him.

    ¡°The ASPCA, the American animal protection society, has once again staged a protest outside the White House regarding the growing trend in the use of livestock for sacrifices.¡±

    The newscaster¡¯s image was replaced by a woman in a business suit standing outside the famed American building, in her hands she held a cardboard sign saying, ¡®No Life Wasted¡¯.  She was being interviewed by a reporter with a microphone.

    ¡°This has got to stop!  Every week cows, chickens and pigs are killed for no reason.  I could get it if they were being butchered for their meat, but in most cases, their bodies are just being left to rot at some shrine or other.  It¡¯s just such a waste of life.  The government has to put a stop to it.¡±

    Her image blanked out and was replaced by another woman, this time in overalls with a tractor in the background.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m too keen on this sacrifice thing, but since my brother started doing it you can see how much faster the crops are growing and the animals maturing.  With all the demands placed on us by recent events we need to be able to maximise our output, and if offering up some of our stock to Demeter and Enten will help us with that, then I¡¯m willing to let it continue.¡±

    The picture returned to the original newscaster.

    ¡°Incidents such as these have become more and more popular as older forms of worship are being taken up again.  So far, the majority of governments around the world have allowed such practices to continue, but have been firm on human sacrifice remaining a crime.

    ¡°Now, in further news, international debates with Cuba still rage on as to the legitimacy of their claiming the newly risen island chain of-¡±

    I clicked the television off as I forked the last of the food into my mouth.  Nothing really interesting there, just the same old stuff that I¡¯d been getting used to over the past weeks.  It was so strange, the things that you can come to regard as routine in such a short time.  Humanity has always been nothing if not adaptable.

    That was just life.

 Chapter One: First Impressions: Part Two

    Perhaps I should go back a few months, and explain how things got to this point.  Believe me, that is a tale worth telling.  There were plenty of names for it, the Super Eclipse, the Return, the Cataclysm, the End of the Age, the Broken Rapture, or The Turning of the Divine Heavenly Wheel, it all depended on the language.  But in my part of the world, it was called The Black Sun.  It didn¡¯t really matter, it was the single most momentous event in human history since . . . well, ever really.  Nothing had gone so far toward overturning the established structure of civilization.  Nothing had proven so starkly just how little we knew about how the world worked.

    The whole thing had begun back in late February, with an eclipse of all things.  Of course, this hadn¡¯t been any sort of normal eclipse, not at all!  No matter where you were in the world the sun had been blotted out, nothing but a pure black circle ringed with a faint burnished copper-coloured corona.  If it was night, then against all logic and rationality it was the moon that seemed to have been swallowed by darkness.  It lasted for seven days and seven nights, and the world had slowly gone crazy as it went on.

    Around the world, there were calls not to panic, and assurances that it was all just natural phenomena.  That would have been more reassuring if there had been some sort of consistency to it all.  But in the mess of different official and unofficial announcements it seemed as though everyone was saying something different.

    One expert would go on screen saying that it was due to some sort of solar particle cloud passing between the sun and the earth, then someone else would say that it was actually the earth that was in the particle cloud.  Then some other expert would publish an article on the net saying that it was actually the result of some new pollution in the atmosphere, and so it went on.

    Nobody knew what to believe, there was no sense of security, no feeling that anyone knew what was going on.  It didn¡¯t help that there were other things about the seemingly endless eclipse that didn¡¯t make sense.

    Everyone was sure that after it went on for more than three days that the globe would start to see the start of an early worldwide winter.  That made sense, which was supported by basic physics and astronomy.  The sun was that major source of energy for most of the Earth¡¯s surface, cut that off things would get colder, that was common sense.  In England, we were certainly getting ready for even harsher winter conditions, mass snowfall, floods, the works.

    The thing was . . . it didn¡¯t happen.  Against all logic and science, the world just kept on going as normal, at least temperature-wise.  Sure, February in Britain wasn¡¯t a picnic, but it was no colder than it should have been.  Other parts of the world that had been experiencing summer stayed just as warm as ever, even without the sun shining down on them.

    You¡¯d have thought that not having to worry about an oncoming ice age would have been cause for celebration, but humanity just couldn¡¯t do things the easy way.  Seeing things not working as they should simply caused a greater tension to form.  Scientists who¡¯d had the metaphorical rug pulled out from them struggled to find an explanation, leading to more wild debates on every form of media.  It was almost as pervasive as the Black Sun itself, the knowledge that what we had thought was true was proving false.  It led to uncertainty, which led to confusion and then inevitably, to fear.  Fear about the Black Sun, fear about what we didn¡¯t know, fear about what tomorrow would bring.

    Of course, it didn¡¯t take much more than a few hours for fear to start to turn into anger.  There were protests outside all major centres of government all across the world, seemingly in every country.  But even that had no order to it.  The protests were for just about everything you could imagine, reduced carbon emissions, dependency on fossil fuel, the use of the giant hadron¡¯s collider, or the use of nuclear power.  Some descended into riots, some stayed peaceful, it just seemed that no matter where you turned there was someone starting something that would find its way into the media.

    In those seven days, there was a growing fear of whether or not we¡¯d see the sun again.  If it didn¡¯t then how could we survive?  No sun meant no crops, no plant life, and no wildlife.  There was speculation about how humanity could survive in an endless night.  Crops being grown under electric lamps, foods like mushrooms that didn¡¯t need light, farming breeds of insects, mammals and fish that thrived in the dark.  Our species could survive, but there was no hiding that it would only be a small fraction that would make it.  Starvation would take billions, that was a simple truth, and that fear was gnawing away at everyone as they looked up at the darkened sky.

    And as it all went on the crazies came out in force.

    Everywhere there was someone preaching something.  Some saying that the sin of modern society had brought this about, and only they had the answer to how the end could be forestalled.  Others claiming that the end was inevitable and that all you could do was try and do something to ensure that you wouldn¡¯t be among those that would have their souls sent into the fiery abyss.  Scam artists came out by the hundreds, uncountable desperate victims being fleeced for all they had.  Cults sprang up like mushrooms, leading to everything from mass suicides to public orgies.  Survivalist groups forted up with massive amounts of food and prepared to see the end of civilization.  Every religion on earth saw a massive uptick in attendance, and not all religious leaders were rational in what they preached to their flock.  Crusades, jihads, holy wars of all sorts, started being called for.  Every continent in the world saw them all, and the chaos, the fear, the desperation; it all just kept on mounting up.

    It was a miracle that nothing actually went off, but somehow the nations of the world kept it together.  Sure, there was sabre rattling galore, plenty of threats and posturing, politics taking on the sharp edge of potential combat, but nothing ever boiled over.  The cynical part of me was honestly amazed that the leaders of humanity managed to avoid jamming their collective heads into that beartrap, but was thankful that they did.

    On a more personal level, things were pretty harsh for everyone as the darkness lasted one day after another.  During those seven days, difficult questions ended up being asked.  Could we survive without the sun?  How long could this darkness last?  As time passed the questions had become less abstract as people realized that this wasn¡¯t something happening ¡®somewhere in the world¡¯ but was instead something that was happening to THEM.

    Then the question became things like; how am I going to survive?  How long will I be able to buy food at the local stores?  What am I going to do if the sun doesn¡¯t come back?  Far too many people asked themselves those questions and didn¡¯t like the answers they came up with adding to the pressure pervading society across the world.

    Things had almost reached a boiling point by the end of the seventh day.

    Then, the seventh day ended, and the sun came back.

    The wave of relief that swept over the world as the darkness passed was almost palpable.  For days people had been denied one of the great constants of life, the light of the sun.

    At first, things seemed to be going back to normal surprisingly quickly.  There was a lot of talk, people saying that there had to be preparations in place in case anything like it happened again.  What if next time it lasted longer?  What if it ended up rendering the planet uninhabitable?  Various news channels, talk shows and online blogs started discussions about how things would change if the Black Sun became something that occurred on a repeating basis.  If the periods of darkness grew longer then it would have drastic impacts on the ecosystem of the planet.  Just one week of darkness had caused major impacts that would take months or even years to recover from.  A longer spell might lead to a situation where the current population could not be sustained.

    There were all sorts of ideas, ranging from the practical to the absurd.  A realistic one, in my opinion, was the concept of self-sustaining underground complexes.  Places that could theoretically last for centuries using geothermal energy to power themselves, to sustain large underground greenhouses for crops using special lights to simulate the sun.

    There were other unlikely notions, things like cryogenically stored populations to wait out a longer Black Sun, or even things like generation spaceships or large space stations.  They all shared the same problem though, even if they worked, they¡¯d only be able to save a small fraction of the population, so for the likes of me, it wasn¡¯t a reassuring plan.

    So, I kept living my life as though the world wasn¡¯t going to end, because, really, what else could I do?  I suppose the entire world had become a bit more anxious, but on the whole, I was alright.  After a short time, things started to settle down, and I guessed we all thought things might get back to normal.

    Then the world started to slowly slip into a new world order.

    At first, it was just rumours and whispers on the internet, then there were blurred pictures of impossible figures, or sharper footage showing the aftermath of unexplained events.  More and more details were learnt, as more and more incidents happened.  There was denial at first, but as more and more sightings and information mounted up there could be no more denying what was happening.

    The myths and legends of the past, they were real, and some of them were already in the world with us.

    Angels, there were real honest-to-god angels in the sky!  Beings of heart-stopping loveliness each with wings, big feathery wings that seemed too pure to be real.  And there were demons as well, some monstrous, some seductive, some animal-like, some so far removed from anything humanity had seen that they couldn¡¯t be comprehended.  The world seemed to catch fire as words like ¡®rapture¡¯ ¡®apocalypse¡¯ ¡®end of days¡¯ and the like were thrown around, but then it was found that the forces of heaven and hell hadn¡¯t been the only things to return.

    Monsters, fairies, giants, dragons, titans, gods, everything that had ever existed in human mythology or legend began to trickle back into the world.  In Norway, some of the old gods were seen again, battling against a massive giant of ice, then were gone the next day.  In Egypt, there were whispers of the likes of Horus and Ra descending to Cairo and establishing cults of worshipers from the descendants of those that once revered them.  Great reptilian forms were spied flying over the skies of Greece.  In America, there were sporadic reports of faeries and imps dancing in gardens.

    Had it all come in one great rush then I dread to think what could have been.  However, the return of the Legends was still gathering momentum, giving the world time to roll with the impact, rather than being brought down.  Yes, there were tragedies and disasters, conflicts and losses, but somehow things managed to keep on spinning along.

    The world seemed to be settling down into a very uneasy new equilibrium.  The gods and other powerful forces were laying claim to cities and territories all over the world.  The Greek, Roman and Scandinavian pantheons had claimed large portions of Europe, even if they weren¡¯t issuing any official orders or messing with the governments.  The same was true of the rest of the world, but there was chaos even in that.

    Some of the gods didn¡¯t return to the countries that had worshipped them, instead choosing to find new lands.  Northern Russia found itself as the new home of the ice giantess Skadi, while Yellowstone Park was claimed by Pele, the Hawaiian volcano goddess.  There seemed to be some reason to it, but it was an alien reason that we didn¡¯t understand.  Some of them settled into the cities they inhabited, some of them changed the cities, driving out those that lived there or even changing them.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    There were more than just the gods, demons and angels though, as if that weren¡¯t enough.  Monsters had also returned, and in some ways, they were even worse than the gods.

    The gods were at least something that could be understood, related to, and bargained with.  The monsters though were creatures and predators that didn¡¯t fit in, nor did they try.  Harpies nesting in the heights of skyscrapers was bad enough, but it was worse when they came to regard the residents of such buildings as conveniently placed food.  Misshapen hulking figures were seen in eastern Europe, hunting cattle and stealing food wherever they could.  Then there were the major cities, where skinwalkers and other such creatures found fertile hunting grounds in which to thrive.

    Some of the monsters were little more than dangerous pests, animals that could be killed with guns and caution.  Others were more dangerous, predators of mankind that picked off the lost and destitute like lions catching a wounded gazelle.   Those required greater care, larger groups, and heavier weapons to bring down.  The real monsters, the sort that could attack and seriously damage whole towns or even small cities, were mercifully rare, only a handful appearing around the whole world.  Such beings were beyond mortal weapons though, requiring those with divine power to fight them.

    The simple fact was that the world had changed.

    Many of the returned gods were less than pleased with what had happened to the world in their absence.  You know all of those environmental groups that would get laughed at because they talked about ¡®Mother Earth¡¯ and ¡®the Sacred Sea¡¯?  Well, as it turned out they had a point.

    It wasn¡¯t a uniform thing, it didn¡¯t happen the same all across the globe, but nature began to fight back, empowered by the gods reclaiming what had been theirs.  In South America, the deforestation of the Amazon rainforest halted and began to reverse as the jungle grew back at absurd speeds.  In Africa, North America, Europe and Russia various villages and small towns found themselves overrun as old woodland resurged to reclaim the land where they had been cut down.  Countless unfortunates found their homes either trapped in dense woodland or simply destroyed by the returning trees.  The loss of livelihoods and property was significant.

    Along the coasts, the situation was arguably worse.  Titans, gods, nymphs, spirits, the sea had as many legends as the land. Now those that had returned were no more pleased than deities of the land had been.  Decades of pollution, careless dumping, overfishing, and ruthless hunting, all of it had left the seas in a mess, and returning divine powers were not happy about it.

    Every whaling ship unfortunate enough to encounter them had been destroyed, the crews fed to the teeming fish as a warning to others.  Huge masses of condensed pollution and contaminants were thrown inland as the oceans were purged of refuse.  Great mountains of debris and rubbish were hurled inland by massive tidal waves that battered coastal towns and cities mercilessly.  Nearby smaller, more traditional, communities that followed the ways of their forbears seemed to have been spared.  Across the world, the death toll rose into the hundreds of thousands and a new fear of the ocean¡¯s might was born.

    And it didn¡¯t end there.  A few old and dormant volcanoes sprang back into life and deities took them as homes.  Deities of the forge, deities of fire, deities of lava, deities of destruction, all of them rekindled the burning hearts of the mountains of fire and claimed them as their own.  Surprisingly there was little actual destruction since the gods in question merely wanted the volcanoes active, not erupting.  As such only a few towns and communities that lived close to such mountains had to be abandoned.

    Then there were the gods, giants, and the spirits of ice and snow that returned and found that the polar ice caps had begun to shrink.  Global warming might have reduced the great arctic lands, but the returned rulers of winter and snow were unwilling to accept such changes.  To be honest their actions were among those that had the least negative impact on the world.  The ice grew back, the animals that had begun to flounder as it retreated found their habitats restored, and the natural order returned.

    So, of course, not all the changes were for the worse, if that had been the case then civilization might have come crashing down.

    Gods and goddesses of the fields and farms blessed the farmlands that had remained, their benedictions vastly increasing their bounty.   Much farmland had been lost to the returned woods in many countries, but it was balanced by the remaining farms suddenly putting out loads more food.  Entire crops would be sown, would grow and ripen to be harvestable in just a few weeks.  Not only that, the earth from which they grew would remain rich and ready, rather than growing exhausted as it was used again and again.

    And it was not only the crops that were so rich.  The farm animals and cattle were also blessed, hens producing larger clutches of eggs, cows producing more milk, sheep more wool.  The animals grew larger, matured faster, and were generally healthier.  Farms were able to produce far greater numbers of eggs, meat and other resources than had previously been thought possible.

    Additionally, the gods of craft and art that returned were not idle either.  In a world of mass media attention with hundreds of new ways to gain fame and attention a surprising number of the returned deities chose not to simply return to the old ways but instead opted to give these new opportunities a chance.

    Many of the returning Legends felt the same when they looked upon the world that had sprung in their absence, they liked what they saw.  They liked cars, they liked mansions, they liked plumbing, they liked mass media.  They saw a world that could be more entertaining and exciting than in the past where the best entertainment had been the likes of theatre and storytellers.  They saw a world both larger and smaller than the small countries they had once been tied to.  They saw all these things, and they didn¡¯t want to destroy them.

    Quite simply, the gods and legends were back, and they looked like they were here to stay.

    When I heard about it, when it was confirmed that gods and the like were returning, I expected to see huge changes.  Countries falling, gods throwing their weight about, monsters causing slaughter, anything and everything as bits of the world fell apart.

    But somehow life just kept on going.

    Perhaps I was most surprised because I¡¯d grown accustomed to the idea of civilization as such a fragile thing.  I mean, on paper there are so many things that can go wrong; loss of power, loss of water, loss of communications, lack of food, there were just so many weak points in the chain.  If you look at it like that then civilization seems to be made almost solely of points of failure that will crack under the slightest pressure.

    However, despite isolated riots, rebellions, and general chaos in places, most of the world managed to keep on going like normal.  To a given value of normal anyway.  Many areas that were claimed by gods or other supernatural beings were caught in a sort of middle stage.  Areas were claimed, but the beings involved were unwilling to bother themselves with the actual business of ruling, and so left the status quo largely intact.

    America was a good example of this.  They essentially made it so that the gods could do pretty much whatever they wanted without having to run into any serious obstacles or repercussions.  They received preferential treatment in almost all regards, were always treated as top-tier celebrities at the very least.  This approach was also used by many other countries.

    It wasn¡¯t perfect, it wasn¡¯t a system that was happily embraced by everyone.  It seemed every day some paper or news show or blog was going on about how the government had sold out.  About how weak they were being, and how they were undermining the spirit of fair equality that the country had been built on or something in that vein.  I did see reports of protests on the TV and all kinds of wild debates on the internet.  There was a lot of anger, and fear in the system, and it had to find some way out.

    But for all of its flaws, the approach seemed to be working.  With little in the way of resistance the gods that had travelled to America had become far less disruptive.  Many of them had focused upon their particular interests and as such tended not to take too much notice of anything else.  Some of them went in the other direction, attending parties, and large events, acting more like celebrities than divine beings.  Some of them even sided with the government, or at least made deals with them.

    Artemis and Herne the Hunter were the most famous examples of this.  Both deities of the hunt had taken up residence in America, though on opposite sides of the continent.  Each of them had regrown massive forests where they hunted all sorts of wild game, but on occasion, they grew bored with this and sought fresher entertainment.  Someone in the Divinity Monitoring and Intervention Division, or DMID, who was regarded as one of the bravest and most reckless people alive, had managed to get both of the deities to listen to them when they had been battling somewhere in central America.  Though the agent¡¯s identity had been classified for security reasons they had been able to broker a deal between the government and the gods of the Hunt.

    Essentially the government would employ them as bounty hunters and send them after the most challenging targets to be had.  In return, the hunters would operate within certain ¡®rules¡¯ of the hunt, namely not harming or endangering civilians, doing the minimum property damage possible, things like that.  It was acknowledged that there wasn¡¯t much that mortal agency could do to curtail the activities of the gods, but by posing it as a challenge to deities that were naturally competitive . . . well, the approach worked surprisingly well.  It was also to the benefit of the government because it gave them a metaphorical Big Hammer to bring down upon the demigods and magic users that were acting as criminals.  Though more conventional forces were outmatched by them, a deity was another matter entirely.  Granted, they weren¡¯t true agents of the country, they were only doing these hunts because it played to their desires, but simply being able to aim them before they charged off was a boon in and of itself.  It was enough to ensure that rogue demigods were if not rarer in America, then at least more restrained in their activities.

    Unfortunately, many areas didn¡¯t fare as well due to all sorts of factors.  Africa was a good example and not a happy one.  The north of Africa had managed to remain stable, mostly because many of the Egyptian gods had shared a desire to reclaim their old lands and had been willing to cooperate to do so.  Then they had begun to expand their new kingdom westward due to several factors, and before long they had claimed almost the entire north coast of the continent.

    Further south things grew worse though.  With the emergence of competing divine influences the stability of the various countries had fallen apart.  Many of the governments had fallen into anarchy, and various petty kingdoms set up by warlords and dictators rose and fell like the waves on a beach.  The death toll was horrifying, easily in the hundreds of thousands, but as terrible as it was it should have been worse.  Somehow things were kept to a relatively low level, the superpowered would-be conquerors more eager to face each other than to pit their armies in all-out war.  That approach seemed to be keeping the body count down from holocaust level to simply horrific.

    Perhaps the most disturbing aspects of this new world order were all the things that weren¡¯t so obvious.  The gods, the angels, even the demons, all of them were big, flashy, huge in the way they loomed over us, but other things were more hidden, things that stayed in the shadows.  Death cults, terrorist cells, fanatics, plunderers, all sorts were looking to try anything.  From trying to reap some sort of profit from the upheaval, to launching a crusade against the returned divinities.  Most of them self-destructed after a while, but sadly not before there were several tragedies.  A library being bombed for ¡®having texts promoting the worship of foreign deities¡¯, or poisonous gas being released into a nightclub to kill people in the name of one god or another were tragic examples.

    Those weren¡¯t the ones to be worried about though; those were the ones that made waves and then drowned.  The more concerning ones were the quiet ones, the ones that started slowly and then started to make themselves a part of people¡¯s daily lives.

    Take the Church of Vesta; they¡¯d started as a small religion that had sprung up in the wake of the realization that the gods were back.  It had quickly managed to gain considerable traction in both Europe and America.  They worshipped the roman goddess of hearth and home and rather than glorifying the more overtly powerful deities, such as Zeus or Shiva, they venerated her nature as a simple keeper of the fires of home.  There wasn¡¯t anything overtly threatening about them, but it was . . . disturbing to see the speed at which they grew.  It seemed like only days from when I read about them on the internet to when I saw a small sign announcing the opening of one of their modest temples not half an hour¡¯s drive from where I lived.

    There were other things too, preachers turning up to your door had become far more common, and practically every other person had some way of displaying to which god or being they had pledged their allegiance.  I suppose that, on its own, was weird enough to show me how much the world had changed.  Before the Black Sun people might have worn things like crosses or Celtic knots, but it never really got that much notice.  Now everything from stylised lightning bolts to major corporation logos could be used to denote which god a person had chosen to worship, follow, or just admire.

    This was everyday life now.

 Chapter One: First Impressions: Part Three

    Let me introduce myself, my name is Adam, Adam West.  Yes, I know what you¡¯re thinking, assuming you know much about pop culture.  Believe me, I¡¯ve heard them all, Batman, Biff, Holy Smokes, not to mention Robin jokes.  My early teenage years were something of a bloody nightmare, I¡¯m telling you.  However, it was not due to parental carelessness, mainly because my parents weren¡¯t in the picture.  I was a foundling and was named Adam by the simple fact that it was quite literally picked out of a hat by the folks at the children¡¯s home that took me in as a baby.  The West name came later when I was adopted at the age of four by Amanda and Anthony West, the couple that I came to call Mum and Dad.

    Now I know that it¡¯s something of a trope that foundlings like me should be obsessed with learning who their birth parents were.  It¡¯s not untrue either; I¡¯ve kept in touch with the orphanage where I spent the first four years of my life because I had friends there.  Fortunately, I didn¡¯t have to deal with any Oliver Twist scenario, the children¡¯s home I lived in was a decent place, not perfect, but nothing that would have made for a good tragic origin story.  I had food, I was healthy, and I had hope for a family in the future.

    When the Wests adopted me as far as I was concerned that was it.  Anthony was the guy that taught me how to ride a bike, how to do my times tables, what the names of the different dinosaurs were.  He was the guy that put cream on my knees when I scuffed them playing, he was the one who read old adventure stories to me before I went to bed.  He was the one that asked me what colour I wanted my room to be, then spent the next day painting it.  He was my father, my dad, end of story.

    Likewise, Amanda was my mother.  She was the woman who had taught me the alphabet, comforted me in the middle of the night when I¡¯d woken up from nightmares, showed me how to make my lemonade in summer.  She was the one who had scolded me when I played too roughly with my friends, who fussed over me whenever I went to school, who held my hand the first time I went to the dentist for a check-up.

    Yes, they were my parents, and I didn¡¯t need any others.

    Still, we made a rather funny family.  The Wests were both very good-looking.  Anthony was golden blond with the sort of green eyes that you normally find only in romance novels, as Amanda was fond of telling him.  He was also built like a tank, all broad shoulders, and thick muscles, which was kind of weird given his job as a geography teacher.  He had a pretty intense personal fitness regime, one that he¡¯d tried to get me into, but which had never appealed.  Amanda, mum, was more of a platinum blonde, her eyes a dark blue, and she was beautiful.  It was no wonder she had a glamourous job managing a high-class jewellery store.  Let me tell you when the hormones hit it wasn¡¯t easy to hear my friends commenting on how ¡®smokin¡¯ hot¡¯ she was!

    By contrast, I¡¯ve never really considered myself to be anything too special.  I¡¯m a bit over average in height, around five foot nine or ten, but I lack the build to really pull it off.  My shoulders and hips are both just a touch on the narrow side.  I¡¯ve never had a problem with overeating, so my weight has never been an issue.  Unfortunately, I¡¯ve also had next to no interest in any sort of heavy exercise, going on hikes and walks has been enough for me.  This means that though I¡¯m fairly fit I¡¯ve never really packed on any muscle, the result being that I looked a bit on the bony side, as though I was stretched at some point in my life.

    I¡¯m nowhere near as handsome as my parents, but I can¡¯t complain.  I¡¯ve got hazel brown eyes and a head of brown hair that refuses to be tamed most of the time.  Seriously, I¡¯ve used, mousse, gel, even hairspray, the works, but no matter what I do my hair always manages to return to a state of general messiness.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The differences between me and my adopted parents became more apparent as I grew, so much so that there have been a fair number of people that have looked at us as a family and asked if I was adopted.  Oh, they have been polite about it, asking in subtle and circumspect ways, but they had asked.  Fortunately, I¡¯ve never been very thin-skinned in that regard.  Yes, I was adopted, and I¡¯ve never really had a problem with it, as I said.  The sun was bright, the sky was blue, the snow was cold, and I was adopted, these were just facts of the world, and I never really cared about it.

    I had a mostly nice and normal childhood, some fun, some trouble, some misunderstandings.  The worst drama that ever happened was when I ran away from home when I was seven.  I can¡¯t quite remember why anymore, probably because of some toy or other that my mother wouldn¡¯t get me, something like that.  Anyway, my grand adventure lasted a total of thirty-seven minutes.  By the time I got to the end of our road, I¡¯d realised that I had no idea what I was doing.  It was all over in ten minutes, but I spent some time sitting and sulking at the side of the road and throwing fir cones at a nearby bush.

    I got older, maybe not too much wiser, and put Anthony and Amanda through the wringer a few times.  I finished my A levels and came through without embarrassing anyone.  I then took a gap year, which turned into two, to go travelling with friends and had an awesome time.  I got to see France, Spain, and Morocco on my savings then flew over to America, where I had a working trip with some friends of the family.  It was fun, and it served to scratch the itch of my wanderlust, which was always nagging at me.

    I came back home and was getting ready to finally go to university when the whole mess with the Black Sun happened.  After that . . . things got a little hectic, to say the least, with my plans for going to university being one of the early causalities.

    That was why I ended up working at the Well Grounded cafe.  Mum had offered me a job at her jewellery shop, but I¡¯d just left home and wanted to try and get something on my own.  A friend of a friend recommended trying there when an opening came up, and the rest was pretty simple.

    It turned out well, and with the income from working there, I was able to make good on a plan I¡¯d made up with two of my friends, Chris and Doug, namely a three-way split on the rent of a pretty decent place.

    The house was owned by Doug¡¯s uncle, which was the reason we were able to get a really good deal on it.  We each got a good-sized bedroom to ourselves, and the rest of the house was large enough that none of us felt cramped.  At the start, there had been a few disagreements, but in the end, we were able to work them out.

    Chris was my best friend and housemate.  We¡¯d known each other since primary school, went through our Ninja versus Pirates Fixation together (and I still assert that pirates would dominate the Ninjas), and went out clubbing together.  Chris was about as close to what a brother could be as I was ever going to get.

    Even though he had only gone through one year at university Chris already had a job at a computer start-up.  While his current work wasn¡¯t exactly the most glamorous it did come with excellent prospects of future promotion.  He had a girlfriend, the latest in a string of short-lived relationships that had somehow always ended on friendly terms.  It would be so easy to dislike him, to be jealous of the way he seemed to coast through life on easy mode, but I knew him better than that.

    Chris had it easy, but that was because he gave it his all when he did stuff.

    Our other housemate was Doug. We¡¯d made friends during our last year at school.  Doug was a big guy, but not tall or muscled.  He¡¯d been diagnosed with juvenile idiopathic arthritis back when he was only thirteen.  It was a mild case, but it still impacted his life.  He could still get around fine, go shopping, and help around the house; he wasn¡¯t an invalid by any stretch.  The problem was that getting up, walking, and running; all of it caused him slight but noticeable pain.  So, he spent most of his time in a chair or bed, which made it hard to work off the calories, and he was a guy that liked his food.

    He was never bitter though.  Doug refused to let his condition get him down, instead doing his best to enjoy everything that he could.  It was inspiring in a way, and it had been that determination of his that had made him likeable.

    All in all, my life hadn¡¯t been glamorous or exciting, but I like to think that it was a good one.

    I was going to miss it.

 Chapter Two: Homefront: Part One

    The first time the new world order impacted my life was nearly three months after the Black Sun, about mid-May.  Up until then, it had been a concern, but it had been something that I¡¯d seen on screens and read about in the paper, even when it happened in my own country.  The return of the King, the wars in Africa, the mess in Australia, and the sensations cropping up in America, all of it seemed so distant.

    It happened at work, and the brutal reality of it took me by surprise.

    ¡°Morning, Di.¡±

    I waved at my boss as I came in, catching her smile before heading upstairs to the staffroom.  Di was the kind of boss that most people would be happy to work under. She took pride in her job, and that showed in her business.  ¡®Well Grounded¡¯ was a nice place for staff and customers, and Di and the rest of her staff had worked hard to make it something of a fixture in my town.  Getting a job there after my original plans had fallen through had been something of a break for me.  Sure, it didn¡¯t pay as much as I could have liked, but I enjoyed it, it covered my expenses and left me with some money to spend and a little to save, so I couldn¡¯t complain.

    It only took me a few minutes to put on the apron and get ready for work.  I joined Di behind the till as she was dealing with her next customer.  Neil, the guy I was taking over from, said hello, then went off to check out.  Everything was as normal as it had ever been.

    I took a moment to enjoy the welcoming smell of the shop, a now-familiar mixture of ground coffee, hot tea, fresh cakes, and pastries.  I was also becoming familiar with the coffee recipes, enough so that I could now prepare the more popular ones up to Di¡¯s standards.

    For the most part, I just worked the tills, taking people¡¯s money and handing over the orders.  Occasionally I worked the tables, taking the orders to those that chose to stay here for a bit, rather than those who ordered their drinks to go.

    However, things were different that day.  There was a tightness in the air that I couldn¡¯t put my finger on.

    The first thing that caught my attention was the way that the customers seemed to be divided into two distinct groups, each clustering in different parts of the cafe.

    One group was by the windows and had a very nationalistic theme going, shirts with a Union Jack pattern on them, a T-shirt with the name ¡®Albion¡¯ inscribed upon it in loud and elaborate letters, a bag with the words ¡®The One True King¡¯ clearly displayed upon it.  There were about nine of them, mainly young men, though there was one older guy and a couple of young women there as well.  They had a certain . . . tension to them.  Nothing violent or threatening, just on edge.  They were all sitting around a few tables that they¡¯d pushed together and were discussing something in lowered voices.

    The other group had set themselves up at the back, away from the windows and next to some bookshelves.  Like the other group they were made up of mostly young people, however, there were three older people with them, a man and two women, each of whom must have been in their sixties at least.  There were about a dozen of them, but they were less strident than those by the window.  They dressed in earth colours, green, brown, and black, and spoke in an almost hushed manner to each other.

    Either group would have been eye-catching on their own.  Seeing them at the same time emphasized the differences between them.  What was even more noteworthy, and a bit concerning, was that they each kept on throwing guarded looks at the other.  Each of them seemed to be very aware of the other gathering, and the sense of tension was growing in the air.

    One from the group near the bookshelf got up and came over to the counter to pick up their order.  There were three trays with steaming cups, some slices of cake, and other snacks waiting for them.  Since the rest of the shop was quiet at the time and Di had the other till I offered to help him carry one of the trays. That still left one on the counter, but we could come back for it.

    We never did.

    As we were passing the stairs one of the members of the nationalistic group was coming down.  He reached the bottom of the stairs just as we were going past.   They both froze, and I could practically see the tension between them.

    ¡°Alan.¡±

    The name was spoken by the guy carrying a tray with me.  It was spoken as a statement, but there was more than a hint of a question to it.  Alan made no reply though and just turned to go back to his group.

    ¡°Hey, Alan!  Look, we¡¯ve got to-¡±

    The guy with the tray tried to step closer to the other as he spoke, but whatever he was trying to say was cut off as Alan forcefully pushed past him.  Forcefully enough to knock the tray from his hands and send snacks and plates tumbling.  The sound of breaking crockery drew eyes from both groups, and in an instant, the tension that had already been thick in the air grew to almost stifling levels.

    ¡°Don, are you okay?¡±

    The question came from the back of the store, but as soon as the query was made someone from the nationalistic group called out their response.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine; he just made another bad decision!¡±

    It was almost a catcall, the sort of thing that hecklers shout at a football match, but I was unprepared for the looks of sullen anger that it drew from the gathering at the back of the store.  Don suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Alan by the arm.

    ¡°HEY! Not cool, man!  Are you going to-¡±

    Once again, he was cut off as the other man jerked his hand away.  Alan opened his mouth to say something else, but never got a chance as Don thrust out with his right palm, pushing the other man back a couple of steps.

    ¡°Back off, Don!  I¡¯ve got nothing to say to you!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Don caught the wrist of the arm before it could be pulled away, standing his ground and not letting go. ¡°You don¡¯t get to just walk like that!  If you¡¯ve got a problem, then just say it!¡±

    It was at about that point that I realized how serious things were getting.  People from both groups were sort of half rising from their seats, and they were glaring at each other just as much as they were at the two men causing the scene.  There was a distinctly ugly tinge to the tension, and I wasn¡¯t sure what to do.  Behind me, I could hear Di moving around, but I didn¡¯t turn to see what she was doing.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing to say! Back off!¡±

    ¡°No!  We¡¯ve been friends for years!  You don¡¯t just dump that without explaining yourself!¡±

    Don wasn¡¯t budging, even though Alan was trying to pull his arm free, and it was easy to hear genuine hurt in his words.

    ¡°And you don¡¯t get to betray England and keep calling yourself my friend!¡±

    There was no longer any ¡®halfway out of their seats¡¯.  Both of the groups were standing, and what few customers were not a part of either group were beginning to look decidedly uncomfortable.

    ¡°Hey!  I¡¯m no traitor!¡±

    Don had let go of the arm he¡¯d been holding since it didn¡¯t look like Alan was going to try to leave anymore.

    ¡°Then why¡¯re you trying to bring in gods behind the King¡¯s back?!  Why¡¯re you trying to backstab him?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to undermine the King!  I¡¯m just trying to-¡±

    ¡°To what?¡± Alan cut him off before he could continue. ¡°You saw what Balor did!  You know what other gods can do, and you¡¯re trying to . . . what?  Invite one in?  How¡¯s that not treason!¡±

    Again, there was that hurt look on Don¡¯s face, as though he was sad that his one-time friend didn¡¯t understand.  Then it was gone, and an expression of irritation and defensiveness took its place.

    ¡°The goddess isn¡¯t a god of war or violence, she¡¯s all about house and home, of keeping your place safe and making sure it¡¯s a good place to live!¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve got no place here!  We don¡¯t need them!¡±

    With each statement Alan snapped his arms out, pushing the other man.  The pushes weren¡¯t overly violent, not enough to knock him off his feet or hurt him, but they were strong enough to send him stumbling back a step each time.  I could see that Don was getting angry, but he was doing a good job of holding it back.  As the other young man went for his third push Don¡¯s hands came up and pushed him away first.

    ¡°Oh yeah?  Then what about the Morrigan?  It¡äs alright if your King says it¡¯s fine, right?  It doesn¡¯t matter that she¡¯s literally a goddess of war and doom, as long as the King says it¡¯s alright?!¡±

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    ¡°Hey!¡±

    Someone from Alan¡¯s group had left their table and was close enough to catch him from behind to keep him from stumbling any further back.  This new guy was older and had a T-shirt with a bright Union Jack pattern on it.  Others were coming out from behind the table but hadn¡¯t left it yet.  The same was true of the other group.

    ¡°The King has made his choices, if he says that the Morrigan is fine, then I¡¯m fine with her being here!¡±

    ¡°But not with Vesta or Brigid?  Do you think that they¡¯re going to go on a mad rampage?¡±

    This was asked by one of the young women from Don¡¯s side, her words almost dripping with contempt as she glared at the group across from her.

    ¡°What?  So, they can tell us what to do in our own homes?  So, they can get us to worship them instead of . . .¡±

    The man that had spoken trailed off, perhaps unsure as to who he should be offering his faith to.

    The King was something of a divisive figure, given that he was himself a firm follower of the Abrahamic faith, giving all honours to God and His angels.  However, he also had ties and alliances with Celtic gods and other divine spirits.  On the other hand, he was himself a figure of worship, with several cults and churches doing everything from seeing him as a living saint to worshipping him with fanatical determination as a god in his own right.  By the looks of things this group held him in high regard but were a bit unclear as to their veneration.  A detail the young woman had no trouble pouncing upon.

    ¡°Instead of who?  Has your precious King outlawed the worship of any deities yet?  Are you even speaking on his behalf or are you just using his name to say what you want?!¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Another member of Don¡¯s group declared, who looked to be the youngest of them. ¡°And don¡¯t talk shit about the goddesses, they¡¯re kind and they are gentle.  If your King¡¯s got a brain in his head, then he¡¯ll be happy to have them in his country!¡±

    The words were spoken with passion, unfortunately passion wasn¡¯t intelligence.  The situation was tense enough, but the implied insult made the entire group from the window stand up, eyes growing hard as they sized up the other group.

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk about the King like that, boy,¡± One of the older men said, his hands clenching and relaxing in a repeating gesture. ¡°We don¡¯t need gods to improve farming, we don¡¯t need them to protect us, we don¡¯t need them at all.  So, they should stay out!¡±

    ¡°And we don¡¯t need a warmonger!¡±

    And that was it.

    I didn¡¯t see who threw the first punch, but it didn¡¯t matter.  It was as though I looked away for a second, and then when I looked back the two groups were embroiled in a fight.  At that point, it hadn¡¯t turned vicious yet, more a case of pushing and shoving than of actual blows, and was limited to the few that were getting into it just a few feet from where I stood.

    I . . . I think I just stood there for the first few moments, stunned by how fast things had gone south.

    ¡°Bastard!¡±

    In the end, it was a simple shouted insult that brought me out of my shock.  Unsure of what to do I just put the tray I was still carrying down on an empty table, then turned to see what Di was doing.  I saw her on the phone and, given the serious look on her face, I guessed that she must have been calling the police.

    ¡°Bloody traitor!¡±

    The shout, and the cry of pain that followed it, brought my attention back to the brawl I was in the middle of.  Someone from the King¡¯s group had a member of the Goddess group pressed against a table and was driving his knee into the man¡¯s stomach.  The beleaguered man had both his hands down trying to block the assault, but it was obvious that he was getting overwhelmed.  What struck me was their expressions, the snarl of sheer anger on the attacker and the panicked desperation and fear of the other.  Both of them were visceral in a way that I¡¯d never seen before.  This was something that even the most talented of actors could never hope to be able to really capture.

    ¡°Hey!  HEY!  Break it up!  None of that here!¡±

    Without thinking I tried to shove myself in between them, trying to use my body to force them apart.

    ¡°What¡¯re you doing?!¡±

    The larger man spat at me while trying to shove me aside.  It was a good thing that he was more focused on the other guy than me because if he hadn¡¯t been, I doubt there¡¯d have been much I could have done.  I was taller by a couple of inches, but this guy looked like someone that saw a lot of physical activity.  I could feel his strength as he pushed at me with one hand.  Had he really been trying, there was no way that I could have stayed in place.  Fortunately, his focus was on the other man, which meant I was able to get them apart without being knocked aside.

    Unfortunately, the other guy didn¡¯t have tunnel vision.

    I didn¡¯t see what happened next, since my attention was on the guy from the King¡¯s group, but I can guess.  The young man from the goddess group must have used me as a distraction to let him to grab one of the chairs next to the table he¡¯d been pressed up against.  What I do know is that one moment I was trying to hold back the guy in front of me, and the next a chair hit me in the side and threw both me and the other guy to the wooden floor.

    Let me tell you something. Being hit by a chair hurts!  A chair, or at least one of the sturdy wooden ones used at the Well Grounded, can be quite heavy.  The impact didn¡¯t break anything, but that was about the only good thing I can say about it.  Whoever my attacker was he must have been plenty strong, because not only did he manage to knock both of us off our feet, but he also managed to hurt my left arm.

    If that had been all, then it wouldn¡¯t have been so bad, but as I tried to get up again someone¡¯s leg hit me on the side of the head.  I suppose that I was lucky it was just a glancing blow and that it was the shin rather than the foot that hit me.  Still, it was enough for everything around me to turn into a blur of motion and sound, of breaking ceramics and wood, of shouts and curses, of stamping feet and flying fists.  I could make out scraps of shouted exchanges, but they were incomplete, barely understandable.

    ¡°. . . Sell out to some-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think I¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°. . . you bastard!¡±

    ¡°. . . Trusted!  Can¡¯t be trusted!¡±

    ¡°-King can help-¡±

    On and on it went, nothing but sound and motion as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to do anything.  Then, suddenly, I was being helped to my feet and the cacophony of noises was gone.

    ¡°Hey!  Hey, are you okay?¡±

    My head was pounding, I could taste a little blood in my mouth, and my eyes were watering with pain, but I was able to focus on the one that spoke to me.  It was . . . a policeman?  The sight of the uniform seemed to be oddly jarring at the time, as though I couldn¡¯t quite understand why I would be seeing them.

    ¡°Here, sit down.¡±

    The next thing I knew I was being placed on a chair and a glass of water had been put in my hands.  The gesture was nice, but at the time I couldn¡¯t have drunk it if someone had offered me a free Ferrari for doing so.  Instead, I just sat there, alternating between watching the world slowly swim back into focus, and having my eyes closed and trying to lessen the pounding in my skull.  I¡¯m not too sure how long I sat there, but in what seemed like only a couple of minutes there was a woman in a green uniform shining one of those little pen lights into my eyes.  It was bright enough to hurt, but it also seemed to help me get my thoughts back in order, and I was soon blinking up at her with far more awareness than I¡¯d possessed before.

    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve taken a nasty hit to the head, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve got concussion.  Just stay here for a bit, there¡¯re others I¡¯ve got to see.¡±  She turned away from me and waved to someone behind me. ¡°Yes, those should help him.  Go ahead.¡±

    I turned slowly, feeling as though my head was on a spring rather than my neck, like one of those bobble dolls you see in cars, and saw that Di was standing there.  She was holding something in her hands.  It took me a moment to realize what it was. A bag of frozen raspberries?  I know that Di used them as part of a recipe to make a sort of jam that was pretty popular, but I couldn¡¯t understand why was she holding it as she stood there.

    ¡°Here Adam, I think you need these.¡±

    The next moment she was pressing the packet of frozen berries to my head . . . and it was wonderful!

    I swear, I could feel my head clearing as the soothing cold ran its way through a skull that I hadn¡¯t realized was feeling hot.  Instead of the dull pounding that had been making it so hard to think, a heaviness settled upon my mind.  I was growing more coherent by the second, but it was as though those thoughts were heavier, more sluggish.

    But they were thoughts that worked, and that was the important thing.

    I looked around the coffee house, and what I saw shocked me.  The same ambulance person that had taken a look at me was now crouched over a guy that was spread-eagled on the floor.  He was wearing one of those T-Shirts that I had seen earlier, though now there was no way to read the slogan, so I guessed he¡¯d been from the group by the window.  He was lying on his side, and there was more than a little blood around him.  I could see his shoulders going up and down, so I knew he was still breathing, but his face, what I could see of it, was shockingly pale, and I was fairly certain that the flashes of white amid the red on his arm were exposed bone.

    He wasn¡¯t the only one that was down, though he was unquestionably the worst hurt.  A girl sat in a chair, her leg propped up on another chair, the ankle visibly swollen.  Elsewhere another guy, was holding a wadded tea towel to a shoulder stained with blood. Bits of broken glasses, bowls and plates were all over the floor, as were the broken remains of several chairs and at least one table.  A picture frame on the wall was tilted at a sharp angle, the image of a tranquil summer scene beneath it obscured by a crack that ran across it.

    It seemed wrong, all of it.  That was the place where I worked, where I chatted with customers and co-workers, where I took the money and served snacks.  It was a place where I¡¯d enjoyed some funny stories, and where I¡¯d been bored when things were quiet.  This, seeing it broken like this, seeing it stained by violence, seeing people hurt in my place of work, it all felt wrong, discordant, as though the pieces of the world didn¡¯t fit together as they should.

    ¡°Damn it, it¡¯s even happening here.¡±

    Di muttered the words, but I still caught them, and my reaction must have been clear enough for her to catch it because she turned to look at me.

    ¡°It¡¯s happening more and more, people picking sides, then acting like everyone not on their side is an enemy.  You know, it¡¯s kind of stupid, how it¡¯s all going on.  The . . . Legends, the ones that are gods, most of them don¡¯t even bother with what their worshipers are doing.  They¡¯re more interested in what they can do themselves.¡±

    She waved an arm, as though to take in the whole world.

    ¡°Some of them have gone into the jungle and are living as though the rest of the world doesn¡¯t matter unless it bothers them.  We¡¯ve got Apollo in Hollywood becoming the next big thing, we¡¯ve got angels flying around, and you know what?  Almost none of them are actually telling anyone to do anything!  Oh yeah, I know that some are carving out their little kingdoms, or setting themselves up as warlords, but that¡¯s all . . . far off.¡±

    Again, her hands waved, trying to describe with gestures what she was having trouble explaining in words.

    ¡°But here, or in Europe or America, most of them are just . . . doing their own thing.  Not trying to drag anyone else into it.  Yeah, some of them are claiming land and forests, but others are making up for it, and . . . none of them are trying to draw people in, y¡¯know?

    ¡°All those cults you hear about?  Half the stuff you see on the news?  It¡¯s all just . . . people.  People following them, people trying to be loyal, or faithful, or just suck-ups!¡±

    Her arms fell to her sides, and she looked . . . tired.  Di was almost twice my age, barely into her forties, but at the moment she looked older than that, as though life had somehow worn her down.

    ¡°With the King getting here I didn¡¯t know what was going to happen, but I was hoping it would be better.  But no, people are still people.¡±

    I think that was when it first hit me.  The return of the Legends . . . it wasn¡¯t just something that was happening somewhere far away, it wasn¡¯t something that wouldn¡¯t have any impact on me.

    That was the first time they intruded into my life, and things only grew more turbulent from there on.

 Chapter Two: Homefront: Part Two

    For the most part, the United Kingdom had fared relatively well after the Black Sun.  In the initial weeks after the Black Sun large portions of the country were gripped with fear.  This was due to the invasion of Britain by the Irish god of drought and desolation, Balor, in late March.

    Balor was one of the earlier gods to return to the world. Strangely, rather than returning to Ireland directly, he descended to the mortal plane in north-western France.  Perhaps he wished to return home in triumph after leaving a path of conquest and destruction behind him, perhaps he was searching for something he wished to claim.

    The one-eyed god had appeared near a small coastal town and had wasted no time in laying waste to all that opposed him, then seized a leisure cruiser for his use and set out north in an attempt to sail to his homeland.  Though he had not been focused upon slaughter, he still left more than a hundred corpses in his wake, and the body count would no doubt have been higher had he not been more intent upon stealing a ship than he had been upon killing mortals.

    It was later learnt that he had never chosen to take a mortal form during the times of the Exile due to his pride.  The thought of being reduced to a mere mortal, to be without his size and power, had been unthinkable to him.  But with his power he needed no knowledge of modern vessels to use his prize, conjured winds and waves serving to carry him across the channel to England.

    And as soon as he set foot upon British soil he was met by a large division of the Royal Army.

    Balor had been unaware of the advances in communications technology.  He did not know that the French government had alerted Britain to the impending arrival of one of the mysterious superhumans that had been appearing, and he had not expected them to use aircraft surveillance to determine where he would land and make preparations to be ready for him.

    The thing was that back in those early days nobody really understood how powerful the beings of myth could be.  The soldiers and commanders that were deployed on that beach must have thought that they were facing . . . I don¡¯t know, some sort of freak or mutant.  To them, he was a dangerous man, but still just flesh and blood.  They had orders to try to take him alive if they could but were permitted to kill him if needed.  Given what had happened in France they thought they had some sort of idea of what he was capable of and had been confident that with heavy firepower and armoured tanks they could deal with him.

    Oh, how wrong they were.

    Balor wasn¡¯t just a twenty-foot-tall giant with a laser eye; he was a god of drought, desolation and destruction!  Weapons that could have demolished buildings or cracked tanks open were mere annoyances to him.  Body armour, riot shields or the steel armour of tanks was likewise no concern to him either.  More than a thousand men were dispatched to fight him; of them, the number that survived the battle didn¡¯t even enter double digits.  Those soldiers had faced an immortal, a being of legend they were utterly unequipped for it.  In the end, all they managed to do was provoke the returned god.

    Balor might have originally been willing to simply pass through Britain on his way back to his homeland, but the attack upon him had managed to seriously provoke him.  The mortals of this land had challenged him, and most of the gods weren¡¯t willing to endure such disrespect from the races of man.  The old god chose to answer the challenge, and he did not hold back.  A civilian with more bravery than sense was able to catch what happened on his cell phone; though the action turned out to be his last one.  Balor had gestured to the burnt and desiccated bodies of the soldiers he¡¯d killed, and one by one the dead stood up at his command.

    Except they were no longer dead, that much was clear, despite the shaking of the hand that was making the recording.  The corpses that rose were healed from their terrible burns, but what they became was not human.  Rather they were twisted mockeries, distorted parodies that moaned and gibbered without any sign of intelligence or independent thought.  The video lasted until some of these creatures found the one recording it.  Then there were only some short screams followed by the camera falling to the ground.  The only reason the video survived was that the phone was found by further troops that were sent to investigate the battle site after Balor moved on.  Eventually, the video was uploaded onto the internet, quite possibly against ¡®official¡¯ orders, where it soon became one of the many records of the god¡¯s activities in the early days of their return.

    At first, though, the disaster had been kept under wraps, for fear of the ensuing panic if the information was released.  So, the government concentrated on trying to stop the one-eyed god and his growing horde of Fomorians, as the creatures serving him were designated.

    Trying and failing.

    The details of what exactly took place were kept classified, even after the whole thing became public knowledge.  It is well known that the lives of many soldiers were lost, but the exact number was never revealed.  What did become known was that no fewer than three attempts were made by the military to destroy Balor and his forces, each time the efforts meeting with failure.  Some of his servants could be slain, but the god himself remained immortal and continued to advance, rebuilding his forces from the bodies of those that he slew.

    The attacks must have provoked him further though because he changed his route so that he was now heading straight for London, something that caused panic in the halls of power.  So far, they had been able to limit how much he¡¯d been able to swell his forces by staging evacuations of all the population along his path.  Fortunately, even with his great size Balor did not move at great speeds compared to modern vehicles, and as such, it had been possible to get potential victims out of his way.  How they were able to keep the matter out of the press or off the internet for those two days can be attributed to the truly Herculean efforts of the various intelligence agencies of the country, but by the third day, it was all beyond them.

    Until then the government had tried to evacuate the populated areas he passed through and keep civilians away from him.  There¡¯d been some hastily concocted cover story, something about a contaminated raincloud.  It wouldn¡¯t have stood up to too much scrutiny, but in the short term, it had been sufficient.  But as Balor drew closer to London too many people saw him and his horde for it to remain a secret.  There were cell phone cameras, security cameras, even reporters and news teams, it was all just too much.

    There seemed to be nothing available that could stop the one-eyed giant.  The army had already thrown everything they reasonably could at him, and there were rumours that, had Balor not been so close to London, then the use of a nuclear weapon might well have been authorized against him.  That was how desperate everyone was getting.  People were dying, order was breaking down, and a god was rampaging ever closer to the capital.  Had things deteriorated further, then who knows what could have happened.  At the time the nation, or at least those so inclined, were praying for a miracle.

    And they got one.

    It was just before Balor and his horde had reached the outskirts of London proper, that the Thames had flooded with mist.  The deep thick kind that was normally only seen in the depths of winter.  More panic spread as it was thought that the mist must be of Balor¡¯s making, but as it extended and washed over the area the fear and foreboding slowly settled down and dispersed.  Later people would say that when the mist rolled over them they suddenly had a feeling that everything would be alright, that they didn''t have to fear any more.

    The mist boiled over the ground, spreading everywhere it could in a tide, but when it encountered Balor it was driven back by the searing gaze of his single eye.  The Irish deity blasted the mists back as though they had themselves been enemies, then he set about ordering his horde to form up around him.  His efforts stopped the advance of the mist, but it didn¡¯t disperse, instead, it just hung there, like a wall of light grey waiting for a chance to surge onwards.

    By this point most of the onlookers had fled, sensibly seeking shelter or escape; however, a number remained at the scene, recording the events out of some crazed curiosity, a desire for fame, or just reckless stupidity.  Regardless, they were able to record what would become an iconic moment in the new world that followed the Black Sun.

    The mist condensed, shrinking down until it ceased to be vapour and had thickened into liquid.  Before the disbelieving eyes of all that watched the liquid flowed through the air, gaining form and definition until the mounted forms of seventy-two knights and their horses stood upon the battlefield, like statues made of water.  Then they shuddered, and in the blink of an eye, water became flesh and steel.  What had been form became reality, and seventy-two knights drew their weapons as one and bellowed a single sentence that shook the nation.

    ¡°BEHOLD, THE RETURN OF THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING!¡±

    And before the massed group the mist gathered at a single spot once more.  However, this time it didn¡¯t condense, instead it seemed to wrap around the area, obscuring it from all sight.  Then it dissipated to reveal another figure clad in armour and mounted upon a warhorse.

    The rider was a big man, though it was hard to tell given his mounted position and the lack of anyone normal nearby, but there was something about him that radiated a sense of him being larger than life.  He was clad in armour that was meant for battle.  It wasn¡¯t polished or shiny; it wasn¡¯t golden or overly adorned.  Instead, it was thick, heavy plate, some of it even scarred by small grooves or dents that hinted that this was armour that had seen battle.  The only decorations upon it were the pauldrons, each of which had an image worked upon them in remarkably cunning detail and decorated with gemstones.  Upon the right was the golden head of a lion, the eyes picked out in emeralds and the teeth with diamonds.  On the left was a dragon its scales enamelled in red, and its eyes cast in rubies.

    About his shoulders and running down his back and sides was one of those thick capes or cloaks called mantles.  The main part of it was almost blood red while a thick tan fur adorned the collar and shoulders.  On his head was a golden crown, not a heavy one like the British Crown Jewels, but a simpler circlet of gold that seemed to be devoid of gems or enamelling.  Instead, the gold was worked into intricate spikes, giving the impression that the crown was made of a collection of golden blades fitted into a circle.

    His hair was a dark brown, and his face was framed by a neatly cut beard of the same colour.  His eyes were also brown, though they were of lighter colour with flecks of green mixed in.  He was unquestionably handsome, the sort of natural rugged good looks that could have sparked envy or been intimidating, but instead radiated charisma and drew people in.  Everything about him seemed to scream controlled power, even just the way he held the reins of his horse.

    And, of course, there was the sword.

    How could there not be?  ¡®The Once and Future King¡¯, how could he be who he was and not have the sword?  The angle of the recording was such that it could be seen, the sword in its scabbard hanging from his left hip.  The scabbard itself was beautiful, golden with a vine-like pattern picked out on it in red enamel and further decorated with a dozen small rubies.  The hilt of the sword was as golden as the sheath but less adorned, less elaborate.  It was a simple cross guard, that was an arc of gold, with no jewels, no engraving, no sculpting.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Excalibur.

    With a single motion, the rider reached across and drew the sword.  The picture became unclear at that point, a dull roar taking up the background noise, and the hands holding the camera becoming unsteady.  Still, even through the shuddering picture, you could see the sword shining as though with some internal light.  It was just a glimpse, the cell phone camera unable to stay on track long enough for more, but even so, there was something about it that came across even through a fuzzy paused picture on a computer screen.  There was a sense of . . . pride, of determination that came from more than just what was seen with your eyes.

    It was a phenomenon that was commented upon by others that saw the clip and focused on the sword.  All of them said that they felt more motivated, energized as though they could take on any challenge.

    The rest of the clip was almost all shuddering pictures of the ground or the inside of the man¡¯s pocket as they all ran around.  Apparently, at that point, Balor had ceased to hold back and had unleashed his full might against his enemies.  At the same time the King had called upon his own power and the ground had heaved and shuddered.  The person taking the clip had been forced to run to escape ruined buildings that came crashing down like children¡¯s toys.  It was almost a full ten minutes of bricks and plaster falling about them.

    The first clear picture they got though, had become something of an internet meme.  Balor was lying on the ground, one leg completely cut off, an arm visibly broken and the other seemingly nailed to the ground by three spears impaling it.  The King was standing on his chest, one hand holding his sword while the other gripped his sheath where it hung at his belt.  The cyclopean god was not helpless though, his sole eye was focused upon the figure on his chest, his burning sight releasing a stream of baleful light that sought to sear his foe from existence.  This was a gaze that had reduced soldiers to burnt husks, tanks to melted slag, barricades to charred ruins.

    And the King stood against it, forcing his way through it as though it were a gale rather than the burning force of an angry deity.

    The hands that held the camera shook once more, but they remained steady enough to see what came next.  The King took another step forward, then, in a single savage movement, drove the glowing length of Excalibur into the eye that was trying to burn him from existence.  There was a cry that went up through the air, something so massive that it momentarily drowned out every other sound, then the form of Balor went limp.  It was later confirmed that it wasn¡¯t a true death, Balor still lived in the divine realm.  It had been his earthbound manifestation that had died.  The death had hurt him though, costing him in pain and power, and barring him from the mortal realm for a time.  None of this was known at the time though, all that was known was that everyone could see a returned hero victorious over an impossible enemy.

    The camera kept recording as the King stood upon the defeated form of his foe, an image that I would see endlessly repeated in the near future, then the clip ended.

    That was how King Arthur Pendragon returned to protect Britain in what could be called its direst hour.

    It is difficult to explain just how great an impact the event had upon the nation.  On the one hand, national pride pretty much soared up into the stratosphere.  That was easy enough to understand, where other countries were dealing with gods showing up and trying to carve out their little kingdoms, setting up cults or just causing general mayhem, Britain was a special little snowflake.  When gods showed up to cause trouble in this country they didn¡¯t get to rampage freely, they were put down like rabid dogs by a national hero.

    More than that though, the return of the King had brought other benefits with it.  The land grew more productive to the point where farms were churning out produce at an unprecedented rate.  Mines that had been thought to be running low were suddenly rich in metals and minerals.  Even the scars of pollution were fading, plastic breaking down on its own, dirty rivers running clear, smog-tainted air growing clean.  Stillbirths had fallen to almost nothing, an entire generation of children seemingly born without complications or birth defects.  The list went on and on.  It was hardly a surprise that a patriotic pride emerged almost everywhere.

    Of course, there were always the downsides, the bad that inevitably came with the good.  In some that pride went even further into arrogance, and many groups formed that felt that only the ¡®true Britons¡¯ should be allowed to enjoy the blessings that the King¡¯s return offered.  Racism gained a worrying level of traction in several quarters, nothing official, nothing overt, but news of people from other ethnicities being subjected to muggings and beatings grew more frequent.

    Then there was a sense of nationalism bordering on the militant, a notion that both Wales and Scotland should be completely absorbed into the greater country, that the British Isles should be a single country without any division.  The quarters that talked about it wanted nothing less than to completely subsume them and replace their cultural identity with that of the ¡®Blessed Albion¡¯.  It wasn¡¯t something that seemed to be gaining much momentum, but the fact that it was there at all was enough to be worrying.

    There was also the King¡¯s Men movement weighing in, not something to be taken lightly.

    In the wake of his return many groups had appeared for and against him.  they ran the scale from those that felt the King should submit himself to the authority of the legal government, to those that felt he should take the throne and rule as an absolute monarch immediately.  After he made a public address informing us all that he had no intention of taking any sort of power by force things had died down a bit.  Unfortunately, there are always those that will persist, even in the face of reality.

    The King¡¯s Men were that kind of group, well, more of a cult.  They revered Arthur to the point of regarding him as a god.  It was a fanatical cult, those that did not worship Arthur were regarded as traitors, servants of the enemy.  They seemed to ignore that Arthurian legend marked him as a Christian, and that and his more recent words all spoke of tolerance of other religions.

    This cult performed several attacks on places of worship not deemed to be of the ¡§true religion¡§.  More than that though, they believed that Arthur should assume total control of the entire UK immediately and that his failure to do so was either a test of his subjects¡¯ loyalty or the result of a conspiracy in the government to have him killed and surrender the nation to some foreign god.

    It would have almost been laughable, were it not for the seriousness with which these men and women took their task.  There had already been an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister, and assault attempts on several members of Parliament. There had also been several protests that had turned into riots, riots that had led to a number of deaths.  Even Arthur himself, publicly condemning the actions being taken in his name hadn¡¯t been able to get the movement to abate.  It seemed they simply saw his words as another test.

    There were other supernatural sightings about the country, of course, though few of them could be directly connected to Arthur.  There had been reports of faeries being sighted in parts of Gloucestershire, faeries that had apparently played with babies and infants.  Sea serpents had been spotted off the eastern coast of the country, sightings reaching from Norfolk to Kent.  There had even been reports of a tower appearing one day, only to be gone the next.  All of these only served to fascinate and frighten people more, to make some of them crave some sort of supernatural protection.

    A talkative and excitable Greek god passing through France had been enticed into giving an interview by a brave and reckless journalist after enjoying some top class French style hospitality.  Several questions were asked, but among them had been details about King Arthur and his sword.  Surprisingly, the god had been willing to talk about both, and his answers had been sensational.

    According to him, the King was an Ascended Soul, a mortal spirit that had become the focus of such belief and importance that it had transcended mortal limitations and grown into a pseudo-divine existence.  He was clear that such beings were not on par with true gods, but they could be considered comparable to demigods, and powerful demigods at that.

    Not just any soul from myth and legend could come back in this manner though.  They also had to possess a link to considerable power to fuel the transition from a dead mortal to a living spirit.  Robin Hood, for example, could not return despite being a popular figure in English legend, nor could the likes of Richard the Lionheart, despite having reigned as king.  For Arthur, it was possible due to him having been carried off to Avalon after his death.  The fabled isle existed as a pseudo afterlife world just for him, one that had funnelled enormous power into him over the centuries since his death.  As a result, he had returned to the living world shortly after the Black Sun opened the world up to the Legends, and he had found himself in possession of a number of divine powers tied to the land that he had once ruled.

    More than that though, he once more wielded Excalibur, a weapon forged by the hands of mortals, Fey, and gods working in unison to create something unique.  Excalibur was one of the Great Swords of the world, a weapon that no one could ever replicate, even with all the power of a god.  The exact details of what the sword could do were still mysterious, but it was known that it could pierce the immortality of a god, giving them wounds that would persist even if they fled to the divine realm.  It was known that it couldn¡¯t inflict a deadly wound, but that it could make the true body of a god bleed was amazing enough on its own.

    In addition to the sword, we learnt the King also possessed the scabbard that had been lost to him in his mortal life.  That had been a subject of some interest.  It seemed that owning the famous scabbard imparted both immortality and invulnerability upon the owner.  It wasn¡¯t perfect, of course.  Powerful though it was, the scabbard couldn¡¯t absolutely negate all harm.  However, it provided great resistance to injury, and it allowed the King to recover from what harm he did take at a superhuman rate.

    Arthur also had the Knights of the Round Table to serve him, which was an advantage on a par with being armed with Excalibur.  Unlike him, the Knights were not reborn as living beings but were instead spirits that were linked to him through his bond with the realm of Avalon.  Through the rule of his past sovereignty, he could call upon them again, providing them with temporary bodies manifested through the mists of the island afterlife to which he was linked.

    Each of these knights was on a par with a strong Legacy, with powers and legendary weapons of their own, and even if they fell in battle, it was of little meaning to them as their spirits would return to Avalon and rest for a time before they were ready to be called upon again.

    All of this was published in the French newspapers and was quickly reprinted all across the world.  As the weeks passed, we learnt more about Arthur, and what he was doing to safeguard his country.

    We learnt that his power allowed him to not simply slay the god that had preyed upon the lands of his country, but also let him negotiate agreements and alliances with gods where the legitimate governments of a country could not.  The Celtic war goddess called the Morrigan had entered into an alliance with him, offering her aid in return for his assurance that he would help her protect her small community of mages.  Likewise, the divine enchantress Viviane, also known as Nimue the Lady of the Lake, had offered her alliance to Arthur, promising to aid him and to provide weapons and armour for new knights that might join him.

    On top of that, the returned King had been publicly acknowledged by no less than three angels as a force for good, something that gave him almost unmatched credibility with the general public.  Christianity, as well as the other branches of the Abrahamic faith such as Judaism and Islam, were solidly behind him.  Additionally, his general acceptance of people worshipping other gods, bought him points with most of the other factions that were springing up.  The end result was that he commanded the sort of popularity and respect that transcended many of the barriers that others were restricted by.

    All in all, the situation in Britain was a good deal better than many other countries.  The stability and security we had were valued, but it was also the source of considerable friction as it encouraged a sort of nationalistic pride that had ugly tinges at the edges.  It wasn¡¯t anything overt, but even someone like me, someone who was only peripherally aware of the political and social landscape, could notice it.

    It was lots of little things that added up only if you paid attention.  Things like slightly derogatory jokes about the citizens of other nations becoming more popular.  Restaurants serving ¡®foreign¡¯ food became much less popular, certain styles of clothing suddenly being all the rage, there was even an increase in how many houses were now displaying flags somewhere on their property.  None of it was worrying on its own, but all together . . .

    Still, for all of that, it didn¡¯t change the fact that Britain was now one of the safest countries in the world to live in.  Though given my future situation with the divinities of the world, that wasn¡¯t going to be something I would enjoy for too much longer.

 Chapter Two: Homefront: Part Three

    As you can imagine, as soon as the myths and legends were confirmed to be real, they became quite the hot topic.

    Facts were slow to come in those early days, but bit by bit knowledge was gained, proven, and made known as inch by inch a clearer picture began to form.

    The first thing that we have to understand is that all the gods, angels, demons, and more powerful beings, such as the immortals, Fey royalty, or giants, share certain aspects.  The most basic of these is that they exist upon multiple planes of existence at the same time.  Humans, or mortals as many of the divine beings call us, are single-plane beings in that the totality of our lives is confined to our world.

    The gods and other supernatural beings are not so limited, and that is in part the secret to their immortality.  Through the efforts of some rather reckless and imaginative journalists, the details had been teased out of some of the friendlier gods.

    We discovered that in their home planes, the gods are immensely powerful, but far more ¡®diffuse¡¯.  They still had bodies that could experience the pleasures of the flesh, but they were huge spread-out existences that diluted those experiences by nature of their very scale.  Also, in their realms their whims could be fulfilled easily. It was too comfortable an existence, that could become bland, lacking in stimulation or challenge.

    That was why gods craved life on the mortal plane because it was there that they could experience some form of adversity.  More than that, while living in the world of mortals their existence was more concentrated, they could experience things more keenly, both for good and ill.  That was why the gods sought to live upon the plane humanity called home.

    Because of their nature gods could only come to our world by creating avatars, bodies that are real but not the gods themselves in their entirety.  These bodies were composed of physical matter, and even possessed something similar to our biology.  Divinities bled, but they didn¡¯t bleed blood.  They breathed, but they didn¡¯t need air to live.  They ate, but they never digested the food.  We even learnt that some of their ¡®blood¡¯, collected in the wake of a fight, had been taken to an official lab for analysis.  Biologists, chemists and even physicists had studied it, but all their efforts had only raised more questions and led to a couple of nervous breakdowns.

    One such researcher famously screamed; ¡®cells don¡¯t work that way!¡¯ before running out of the lab screaming and tearing at his hair the whole time.  The man later recovered, but the image of him became a trope on the internet, one to exemplify the baffling nature of the divinities.

    Of course, that didn¡¯t change mankind¡¯s need to classify and quantify.  Sure, many looked at the gods and threw up their hands in despair at trying to understand them.  When asked to explain how they could defy physics or the laws of conservation by producing matter or energy seemingly out of nowhere the general answer was: ¡®its magic¡¯, as that seemed to be the only way to explain it.  However, there were others, those that felt that if science could not explain the Myths then science simply had to claw its way through until it could square the circle.  As these efforts began, many tried to ride the waves of curiosity, fear, and bewilderment to fame and fortune.  But they tended to rise only to crash down when holes were punched through their theory.

    Doctor Julian Crawford rose to fame by not only creating the scientific definition for the various myths, Multi-Planar Pan Psychovores, but also by formalising the multi-planar theory.  He stated that ultimately mortals can¡¯t kill a god.  The avatar bodies they use are extremely durable, even the most fragile being able to take a shotgun blast and suffer only minor bruises.  The stronger gods, the more warlike ones, could withstand being struck by bunker breaker missiles and suffer only superficial harm.  That said, these avatars could die, be it at the hands of another god, or the fangs and claws of a monster, but such deaths were far less final than they would be for a mortal.

    According to his research gods, angels, demons, and just about every other legendary being were creatures that didn¡¯t just exist in one reality, like humans did, but were instead spread out over at least three.  That was the secret of their apparent immortality, one of the dimensions they existed in didn¡¯t have time as ours did, so they wouldn¡¯t age, and as long as ¡®more¡¯ of them existed in other dimensions than it did in our one there wasn¡¯t ¡®enough¡¯ of them here to be dealt a fatal blow.  Likewise, their abilities to do things that defied the understood laws of physics were also explained by this extradimensional nature, such things as being able to draw energy from higher planes or taking the laws of another dimension and imposing them upon this one.

    He was even able to explain why such beings might be so similar to humanity, in the way that they thought and acted.  By his reckoning, the Legends were beings that subsisted not simply upon other-dimensional energy, but also upon what he defined as ¡®psycho-etheric¡¯ energy, his definition for the natural magic, or mana, that people exude simply by living.  This energy was charged by a person¡¯s thoughts, their beliefs, dreams, fears, and hopes, and was radiated out into the ambient energy of the world around them.  Those same emotions were then absorbed by the various legends when they drew that energy into themselves to fuel their power.

    As such, they were shaped by those impressions in the ambient mana, little bits and pieces of it gravitating to and merging with the gods that already embodied the concepts that were drawn to them.  This meant that war gods, for example, would be sculpted into the image of the perfect warrior by the dreams and thoughts they absorbed, while a goddess of love or beauty would become a paragon of whatever people viewed as most gorgeous.

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    In simple terms, it meant that though the gods had their own existences, thoughts and personalities they were also in part shaped by the people that worshipped and empowered them.  It also explained the vast variety in the different pantheons, due to them being shaped by the cultures they ruled, even as they shaped the cultures.  Doctor Crawford fully stated that it was just a theory so far, but it seemed to be holding up.

    Apollo had explained it in his famous interview, how avatars were not the entirety of a divinity. He had said that trying to kill a god by trying to kill their avatar was akin to trying to murder someone by attacking one of their fingers. Yes, you could cause them a lot of pain, drain them of quite a bit of blood, but ultimately it was a small part of the whole. The gods suffered their avatar¡äs pains, and if destroyed they would weaken but would be ultimately protected from total destruction by their multiplanar nature.

    As you might imagine, those first few weeks after it became clear that the gods and other so-called myths were real were not easy on the world.  The results of some gods reclaiming the domains that they regarded as their rightful property were at once amazing and terrifying.  England had managed to get off lightly due to Balor¡¯s attack and the arrival of the King during the early days after the Black Sun.  The rest of the world ran the whole gambit from barely affected to completely taken over.

    You see, when the gods started to come back, many didn¡¯t just go straight back to the countries they had once ruled over. Some did return to their traditional lands, the Egyptian and Chinese gods were good examples of this.  Others simply scattered to the wind, choosing to go wherever they thought would be the most interesting.  In some cases, the gods of a pantheon held together, all working towards a common cause. Other times pantheons seemed to fragment into individuals each following their own agendas.

    The Olympians gods though . . .

    The thing you need to understand is that the Greek pantheon is one of the most famous, almost certainly the most influential as far as Western civilization is concerned.  It isn¡¯t a case of belief, since in those terms the world is dominated by Abrahamic religions and Hinduism. Rather it¡¯s a case of who knows about their images, their stories, their history.  Nobody fully understands the way that belief, or even just knowing about a god, translates into power for them.  But popularity, simply knowing their stories and legends, does have something to do with it.

    The most famous Greek gods, or the Olympians as they are more commonly known, were one of the most prevalent collection of gods in the world, their images and stories having spread and influenced so many other cultures.  They had been a major influence upon the Romans, their own gods being near mirrors of the Greek ones.  And their influence had endured. In Britain one example was our Britannia, who had been modelled after the classic image of Athena. Or take the images of the trident-wielding Poseidon, or Zeus with his thunderbolt we saw day to day advertising machinery or cleaning products. Or the wings or helmet of Mercury or the wing of Nike the goddess of victory. Just to give a few examples.

    And then there were their legends, Greek legends that endured long after their worship had ended. Heroes like Hercules or Odysseus.

    I could remember my dad reading the story of Hercules and his Twelve Labours to me back when I had been only five years old.  Clearly the version he read me was the kid-friendly version.  There was no mention of Heracles killing his own family, nothing about horses fed on human flesh, nor about a stable filled with animal shit.  Sure, there had been monsters and villains, but it had lacked the grimmer details.  Still, it had been enough to hook me, and over the next few years, I¡¯d managed to badger my dad into reading me most of the best Greek myths.  Later I actually studied Greek legends in school. Then, as I got older, I sought them out in films, games, comics, you name it.

    As far as the Western world was concerned, the Greek gods were the most famous and visible, and when the Black Sun left and the Path of the Legends opened again, the twelve Olympians and many of their fellow Greek gods took little time in asserting themselves.

    Artemis, Gaea, Pan, all were responsible for some of the returned forests and the disappearance of entire towns and cities, while Poseidon had returned to the oceans and begun to clean them up.  Others, such as Apollo or Dionysus, had loved the new world they found themselves in, and had wasted no time in making themselves part of it and availing themselves of all the pleasures and opportunities it could offer.

    Zeus became especially famous, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he became infamous, by being the first god to create a privately-owned corporation.  Well, in truth it was more the creation of Athena, Hermes, and Hephaestus, but Zeus was the guy that gave the orders, and he¡¯d shown himself to be surprisingly adept at running a business.  It was big news, how the American government was handling the situation.  There¡¯d been plenty to read on this turn of events.

    Olympus Industries, the corporation the Greek gods had established, was growing explosively due to being the only company in the world that was mass producing literally divine items.  Granted, they were relatively minor things, but even so, they were selling things like enchanted bracelets at the price that was normally reserved for things like cars.  Also, for all the other headaches they might be causing The USA, they had proven to be an economic boon to the nation.  They provided new jobs and services that helped the country continue, even with the turmoil inflicted upon them by the mythological powers that had returned.

    Other countries were more or less fortunate depending on your point of view.  China was one such example, a nation in which the returning gods were unwilling to work with the government already in power.  Nobody was quite sure how it had happened. There had been some sort of negotiation going on, and then one day the talks had all broken down.  Catastrophically!

    Many of the details had been classified and kept from the general public, but what was known was that military forces were ordered to take the divine agents into custody.  Those divinities had not taken the attempt well and had fought back.  More military assets had been called in, and then more powerful deities had become involved as the situation escalated out of control. By the time the dust settled China had become the first global superpower to be completely under divine rule.  Surprisingly very few citizens had much of a problem with this, but as you might imagine, other governments around the world were very nervous.

    Life went on, but the focus of attention was now on a new world order that included a small but ever growing number of the returned myths and legends.  As the world tried to make sense of the changes that had taken place there was just as much tension as there was wonder.  Almost everywhere there was a feeling of living on the edge, a feeling that there was a shoe that hadn¡¯t dropped.

 Chapter Three: Three Firsts: Part One

    The first time that really hit me that the world had changed was in mid-March, just shy of a month after the Black Sun.

    Even though it had been raining for most of the morning it had become a nice and sunny afternoon.  I normally would have gone out for a walk, maybe stayed out long enough to watch the sunset.  But I knew that the recent rain would have left my favoured paths as muddy bogs.  That was why I was watching television while munching my way through a bag of nachos.

    Of course, there were rumours all over the internet about supposed superhumans popping up, people performing impossible feats, getting into fights that defied conventional understanding.  But I just told myself that it was the sort of hysteria that came after something as world-shaking as the Black Sun.  For a few days, the world had thought it was going to end, that there was going to be death across the world on a scale that hadn¡¯t been seen since the dinosaurs were wiped out.  There was all that fear, all that despair, and then suddenly the lights came back on and it seemed we had a stay of execution.

    The outpouring of relief had led to things like massive street parties, religious services being held in places like stadiums or concert halls, and even a few life-affirming, and highly controversial, public orgies.

    Loads of people suddenly thinking of themselves as special or superhuman was something I could see happening in the wave of relief that came in the wake of salvation.  Having just survived death everyone felt the urge to try to live life as hard as they could.  These rumours of superheroes and villains seemed to me more like people high on their survival going a bit crazy and acting on wild impulses.

    So, there I was, watching online episodes of some old sixties sci-fi comedy cartoon.  Something that predicted that by the twenty-first century we¡¯d have flying cars that could fold into a briefcase, businesses and apartment complexes floating in orbit, and moving sidewalks everywhere.  Funny what they got wrong, but weird what they got some right.  There was video calling being so popular, or how much computers were in charge of everything.  All in all, it wasn¡¯t anything special though, just something to watch while killing time.

    I was just watching a scene where the unreasonably intelligent youngest child was tinkering with a robot when the screen flickered, and the show was replaced by an image of a town in flames.  There was a sign beneath the picture saying ¡®Emergency Broadcast: Town Destroyed by Confirmed Supernatural beings!¡¯

    Newsflashes are a somewhat overused plot device in cartoons and films, but in real life, they are very rare.  Truthfully up until that point I¡¯d never seen one before in my life, only heard of them, so I felt a certain sense of . . . unreality as I stared at the screen.

    This feeling wasn¡¯t helped by what I saw playing out before me.  Right there, on my television screen, was something that belonged on a cinema screen, not in real life.  The camera taking in the image was shaky, but it was steady enough that you could make out what was being recorded.

    As the image played a man¡¯s voice sounded out, his tone controlled and professional.

    ¡°Good afternoon, we interrupt our scheduled program to bring you this breaking news.  Earlier today the following recording was released onto the internet from the American town of Oldergate in New Mexico.  The images and the damage shown have both been confirmed to be genuine.¡±

    The town shown seemed to be somewhere hot, the streets had a dry and dusty look to them, and what plants I could see seemed to be parched, the few patches of grass in the picture stiff and brown.  There was no sound though, so I supposed that the microphone of whatever camera was being used had somehow been damaged.  All in all, the juddering soundless picture seemed to be oddly unreal.

    It was only about half a minute long.  It showed a tall muscular form, wearing nothing but a Greek armoured kilt, dashing out of the dust cloud thrown up by a building collapsing.  His skin was deeply tanned, and his dark hair was cut short to stand in spikes from his head.

    What was more eye-catching was the way that shadows seemed to darken into pools of blackness around him before moving in unnatural ways, as they slithered across the ground.  In an instant, black tendrils extended from them, reaching up and trying to grab him.  The tanned man proved no easy target though, moving at insane speeds to duck out of their grasp and evade their attempts.  The tendrils tore into the ground and buildings about him as they missed him, punching through bricks and concrete as easily as a knife through paper.

    Then a tendril caught him, wrapping around his ankle in the instant that it struck.  The man tried to break free, but more tendrils took the opportunity and grabbed onto him.  For a moment it looked as though he was going to be cocooned in them, then there was a flash, and the area was consumed by a spreading wave of fire.  The person with the camera shuffled to the side, just managing to avoid any of the flames.  The picture stabilized to show a second figure appearing, this one surrounded in an aura of lightning so bright that all that could be seen was a vague outline of a figure within.  The new figure crashed into the tanned man, who had raised his arms in defence.  There was a flash, the camera showing a wildly spinning picture as it went tumbling, then the picture cut out.

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    The clip began to rerun, then shrank to fit into the top left corner of the screen while the rest showed a news presenter sitting at a desk.  He wasn¡¯t someone I recognized, but the harried look on his face was oddly genuine as opposed to some of the composed expressions presenters always seemed to have plastered on.

    ¡°As you can see, this recording lends validity to the many rumours that have dogged the internet worldwide over the last few days.¡±  The presenter stated, gesturing to the image beside him.

    The picture beside him changed, no longer showing the clip but instead switching to show the town once more.  The ruins left behind now gently smouldering.  With the clouds of dust gone it was far easier to see just how much the place had been torn apart.

    ¡°In an effort to verify the truth of the released recording extensive tests and comparisons have been made to learn the reality of the situation.¡±

    The picture turned to men and women carefully measuring blast holes and taking samples of the charred remains of a badly melted car.  It all looked very professional and official.

    The image on the screen was replaced with an official-looking woman in outdoor clothes standing in the ruins of the town next to a table that had been set up.  She was facing the camera while holding up a chunk of concrete.  A caption at the bottom of the picture identified her, but I didn¡¯t bother to read it, instead, my attention was captured by the stone in her hands as she separated it into two pieces.  What was weird was that the two faces that made up the divide were as smooth as glass.

    ¡°As far as we can tell this was caused by one of the so called . . . shadow blades,¡± The woman said as she showed the two smooth sides to the camera. ¡°What is extraordinary is the smoothness of this cut!  It has already been measured, and under normal circumstances, it wouldn¡¯t be possible to recreate this kind of division, even with cutting-edge technology.¡±

    ¡°Could you explain that a bit more?¡±  A voice from off camera questioned.

    ¡°Making a cut as straight and smooth as this one is possible with things like lasers or water saws, in a laboratory environment with the appropriate equipment,¡± the woman explained. ¡°However, neither of these methods could duplicate the cleanness of this cut.  A water saw would leave behind marks while even the best laser would leave some signs of burns or melting.  This . . .¡±

    As she spoke, she pressed the two halves back together, showing how the division was all but invisible once it was properly lined up.

    ¡°. . . Is too clean, it is as though the two parts were separated without any sort of intervention.  I think that a more detailed laboratory test will show that the cut goes down to a near molecular level.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any idea how this was achieved?¡±

    The woman¡¯s face took on a distinctly harried look.

    ¡°No!  as far as we can tell this was cut by a SHADOW, do you understand?  A SHADOW, something that should have been a difference in illumination levels got up and sliced concrete apart!  Since we¡¯re clearly dealing with something that modern science can¡¯t explain I¡¯ve got no valid answers.  As far as we can tell the shadows that . . . that man . . . person . . . thing, was using are as close to being two-dimensional as makes no difference, except for when they weren¡¯t, because they can apparently do that!¡±

    She paused for a moment, then visibly collected herself.

    ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here, but I can tell you that this isn¡¯t just some hoax, not with things like this . . .¡± she waved the two bits of concrete. ¡°We¡¯ve also got sand that was melted into glass, concrete that¡¯s been shattered by multi-ton forces, a bird that seems to be partly petrified!  The number of resources needed to do all this . . .  And this isn¡¯t the only site.¡±

    She seemed to slump in place, putting the stones down on the table beside her.

    ¡°There are other sites?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes!  As soon as we had confirmation of this one, we¡¯ve received reports of at least two others.¡±

    The picture of her shrank down until it was only in the corner as the original news presenter returned.

    ¡°As stated, the situation in Oldergate is not unique. Ever since the Super Eclipse reports of supernatural events have begun to appear.  With this, the first recorded evidence, there is much debate about what the next step should be.  Please continue to watch, this channel will release more information as it becomes available.¡±

    And then, just like that, the screen switched back to what I¡¯d been watching before.

    I¡¯m not entirely sure how long I just stared at the screen, not seeing the show there, but rather mentally repeating the newsflash I had just seen.  What I do know was that by the time I came back to my senses something completely different was playing on the screen before me.  I remember going into the kitchen and getting a beer out of the fridge, my hands shaking slightly as I did so.

    I remember looking out at the street, seeing cars go by, people walking past, some fellow on a bike that didn¡¯t seem to be dressed up warmly enough for the day.  Did they know?

    I¡¯ve always been something of a sci-fi and fantasy nut.  I liked my superhero films, my Japanese cartoons, my giant robots, my alien cultures, my dragons and spells.  I liked books, I liked comics, I liked short videos on the internet.  I even had an iPod to listen to audiobooks and podcasts while I was out on my hikes.  It was fun to immerse myself in these stories of weird and fantastic things.

    But when that was reality, when what you thought was rock solid started to crumble . . . that was when you began to feel exposed, vulnerable, frightened, and that was just the start of it

    Little did I know that for the world, and me in particular, there would be more shocks to come.  Oh, so many more.

 Chapter Three: Three Firsts: Part Two

    The first time that I felt the power of the returned Legends with my own flesh and blood was an unforgettable and harrowing experience.

    It was a rather typical day off, no work to worry about, no chores pending.  I¡¯d gone into town to have a meal out, meet some friends, catch a movie and do a little leisure shopping.  Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary.

    I got a hint I had that something might be wrong came while I was waiting at a bus stop.  I was idly gazing at a reflection of the sky in a puddle when I noticed it ripple.  Have you ever seen that iconic scene in Jurassic Park where the T-Rex is coming, and the kids notice the ripples in the water cups?  Well, it was like that, little ripples running across them for no apparent reason.  Of course, when I saw them my first thought wasn¡¯t ¡®Tyrannosaurus Rex incoming¡¯ or ¡®warring divinities inbound¡¯.  Rather my first response was to think that there must be some pretty hefty road works being conducted nearby.

    Then I heard something, a strange whining noise, not mechanical but more the sort of thing you hear when something goes whistling through the air.  I paused, trying to place it, but my thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash.  It was a distance off, so I couldn¡¯t see it, my line of sight was blocked by several buildings.  Again, my thoughts immediately latched onto a more reasonable explanation, perhaps a large traffic accident, something involving a truck or a bus.

    I was turning towards the sound, wondering if it would be worth checking it out when there was another crash.  I recall being surprised, wondering if the accident was somehow ongoing, when I heard the third crash, and more screams.

    I felt my body tense, preparing itself to spring into action, though just what I would have done I never got to find out.  A wave of force suddenly slammed into my body force accompanied by something like a thunderclap mixed with an explosion.  They both hit me at the same time and were then followed by another, and another, and another.

    What they were . . . I don¡¯t think I can properly describe them.  At the time I kept thinking of bombs going off not too far away, some sort of terrorist attack.  As I felt the waves slam into me, I could feel them going through me!  They hit like someone slamming into me at full tilt, but they also seemed to punch at my skeleton and internal organs.  I tried to turn around, to get away from them, but it had become so hard to tell where I was going, my vision swimming and I was having trouble catching my breath.  I couldn¡¯t see anyone else around.

    The next moments were a bit hazy, I remember spots dancing before my eyes, my hands clutching at my chest as I tried to protect it, but the shocks kept passing through me.  With my brain as rattled as it was, I wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.

    Then, out of nowhere, there was a hand grabbing the shoulder of my jacket and dragging me into an alley I was blindly passing by.  I couldn¡¯t resist, I just went where the pull directed me.

    Then the shocks stopped, and for a moment all I felt was relief.

    ¡°Come on!  Come on, are you alright?¡±

    I became a bit more aware of my surroundings at that point, enough to notice that someone was shaking me.

    ¡°Can you hear me?!  Can you tell what I¡¯m saying?!¡±

    The words made sense, so I tried to nod, but my neck didn¡¯t want to cooperate.  Then I felt another one of those shockwaves pass, but this time it didn¡¯t hit me.  Instead, the walls about us shook slightly, loose bits and dust raining down in a brief dirty shower.

    ¡°Good, they aren¡¯t giving it their all,¡± I focused on the blur before me, trying to bring it into some semblance of clarity.  The voice sounded feminine but given that my ears were still ringing I couldn¡¯t be sure. ¡°That works for us.  These walls should be enough to keep the worst off us, and as long as they keep holding back, I think the buildings should hold.  Good thing this is happening here, anywhere else and they wouldn¡¯t bother holding back.  Guess Arthur really is good for something.¡±

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    Those words grabbed my attention, and I took another look around myself.  Yes, she was right.  This part of town was a bit older than the rest, and the buildings were made of more sturdy construction, bigger bricks, and thicker walls.  Huh, whoever knew that I¡¯d find my life saved by architecture?

    Trying to get my thoughts back on track I looked up at my rescuer.  She, or at least I thought it was a she, was tall, easily my height.  The first thing that struck me about her was her clothes.  They were old and worn, older than most people would be willing to wear if they had any choice in the matter.  Her jeans were faded and frayed, and the light grey hoodie that concealed most of her wasn¡¯t so much battered as it was beaten to within an inch of its life.  Yet oddly there wasn¡¯t any sort of slouch or tiredness to the figure, nothing that would suggest a homeless person or anything like that.

    ¡°What . . . what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happening is that you were going to get yourself killed!  You can only take so much of that!  If you take too many hits, then a few months down the line you¡¯ll suddenly keel over from something like a bad ticker.¡±

    Her reply, and now I was sure that this was a ¡®her¡¯, was snapped, as though she were annoyed that I¡¯d made her life more difficult by being in danger.  She looked up into the cloudy sky as another shockwave passed us by, this one accompanied by another massive crash from somewhere out of sight.

    ¡°We¡¯re lucky it was just those two muscle heads having one of their grudge matches.  If it had been Nuriel and Garmarath then this place would have been a wreck by now.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    I hated how stupid my monosyllabic questions were making me sound, but it was the best I could manage at the time.

    ¡°Those two, Abriel and Bellbarath, neither of them can ever think of anything other than just hitting whatever they¡¯re fighting.  The powers of Grace and Perdition behind them, and the best they can think to do it just smash away at each other.  Well, I suppose that¡¯s the best that you can expect from the angel of Stones or a demon enforcer; they¡¯re both pretty blunt objects.¡±

    Things began to click into place in my head.  It had taken a bit for the old brain cells to start firing again, but I thought that I was finally starting to understand.

    She was a researcher, or an occultist, or at least someone that actually knew something about the supernatural.  Those were popping up more and more these days as it became increasingly obvious that knowing myths and legends had more practical merit than it had this time last year.

    ¡°Well, it works to our advantage.  They probably won¡¯t stay too long.  They know that if they keep it up too long then Arthur is going to show up to curb stomp both of them.  They¡¯re dull, but they know not to make too much noise on his patch.¡±

    She paused for a moment, and the hooded face turned to me.

    The light in the alley wasn¡¯t good.  The sun was going down, and dust was floating in the air all around us.  So, I couldn¡¯t get a good look at her hooded face. However, for all that, her jaw and lips were briefly visible before she turned away.

    And they were beautiful

    What little skin I could see was pale, but not in a pallid or unhealthy way.  Her chin was delicate and finely curved.  Graceful, that was the first word that came to mind to describe it, the way her cheeks curved into an elegant jawline was pure poetry.  Just as with the rest of her, her lips were seemingly perfect, their soft red colour contrasting with the paleness of her skin but seeming to be in total harmony rather than clashing with it.

    Beautiful, that was the only word that sprang to mind.  Beautiful.

    The moment was broken as there was another massive crash, this one not only creating a shockwave but also rattling the buildings hard enough that I could hear glass shatter and masonry break.  More screams could be heard from the main road outside, but in the alley where we stood, the building seemed to be holding up just fine.

    The woman pushed past me and peered out of the alley¡¯s mouth.  I could see her turning one way and then the other, looking not only up and down the street but also up at the sky, then she seemed satisfied.  Without turning to face me she waved me over.  As soon as I was beside her, she started speaking again.

    ¡°Alright, they¡¯re gone now.  I¡¯m not quite sure, but I think I saw them heading north, so that should take them away from major population centres.  There¡¯re mostly farmlands that way, so hopefully, those two blowhards can pummel each other as much as they want and nobody else will get hurt.  You, get out of here.  And take better care of yourself in the future, don¡¯t just stand there gawking when the higher powers start to battle near you.  Run!  Run and live, that¡¯s how it¡¯s always been.¡±

    I looked out at the street, then began to turn to face her, questions on my lips as well as thanks.  But before I could utter a single syllable, I felt a hand on my back pushing me forwards.  My balance was off, and I couldn¡¯t keep myself from stumbling forwards a couple of steps.  It only took a bit for me to regain my balance, but in that time . . . well, when I looked back into the alley and all I could see was a flash of light grey disappearing around the corner at the other end of the alley.

    I had been left just wondering what had happened.

 Chapter Three: Three Firsts: Part Three

    The first time that I realized the world had accepted and learned to live with the full implications of the ¡®new normal¡¯ hit me was right at the start of June.

    I was shopping at the local supermarket.  It was a late Monday morning and it had finally been my turn to refill the flagging fridge and larder.  Between extra shifts at the Well Grounded, recovering from the fight that broke out there, and my alleyway encounter during that fight between an angel and a demon, I¡¯d ended up skipping my last few turns.

    My first stop was the entertainment section.  I always went to check there when I came shopping, especially on a Monday when new movies were released to buy.  There was a longstanding competition between me, Doug and Chris to see who could buy the worst b-movie at a major outlet.  So far Doug was the standing champ, with some film involving aliens reviving a zombie mammoth, but I was always on the lookout for a contender.

    What struck me was that there was already a Blu-ray release for ¡®Legendary¡¯, the first movie starring the god Apollo.  Normally there wouldn¡¯t have been a release for it yet, given that the film was still showing in cinemas, but the sheer demand for it had forced it through at breakneck speed.

    I¡¯d looked at the smiling face of the god on the front cover, his perfect features surrounded by a depiction of some ruined city, his body wrapped in leather and armour.  With him was some attractive new actress wearing far less and carrying a sword leaning against his side, one bare leg extended to show off her smooth skin and shapely muscles.

    It was pretty typical for a fantasy sci-fi, something that had been thrown together in a hurry to appease Apollo¡¯s desire to be in a movie.  But once it had been finished and marketed it had turned out to be a smash hit that was already making records in almost all forms of sales right off the bat.  There were already three more films coming out soon, Apollo¡¯s magic presence letting them be filmed and readied at unbelievable speed, and the anticipation was through the roof.

    And here it was, in my local supermarket.

    Normally it would take longer for a film to move from the big screen to the movie aisle, but I guessed that when gods were involved the rules changed.  Giving my head a shake I rounded the corner of the display, going from movies to books.

    There, things were similar though.  Rather than the books, I would have been expecting, things like cookery, the latest celebrity biographies, or reprints of the trending fantasy novels, I saw nearly three whole shelves devoted to two new releases.  ¡®The New World¡¯, by Adrien Newberg, and ¡®Demigods, the Myths and the Reality¡¯, by Dr V.Roads.  I heard about both books on the news the day before, but seeing them right here in front of me . . .

    Reaching out I picked up a copy of Dr Roads¡¯ book and took a look at the opening pages, reading them over.

    The gods have existed upon the world since time immemorial, and so have the angels and demons, the monsters and the spirits.  They have been present in all cultures across the world, their mark on human history indelible.  For countless ages, they reigned, in some places they were rulers, in others, they were guardians, in others they were monsters.  So, what changed?  Why are they remembered as myths and legends, rather than beings that once walked amongst us?

    There is much that is unknown, even to the gods themselves.  However, as they slowly return to the mortal plane, some of them have been willing to share what they know with us, at least in part.

    About three thousand years ago a change began to creep up upon the beings of supernatural power in the world, and their ability to exist upon our realm began to slip away, though the cause remains unknown.  To begin with, it was a minor change, the effort required to leave their plane and come to our own increasing slightly, but as time passed it grew more and more difficult.  Eventually, the creatures of magic and divinity that existed on other planes lost all ability to interact with the mortal plane while using any of their power.

    Many of them could still come to our world, but they could only do so under great restrictions.  Their memories were clouded to the point of being barely more than a recollection of a vivid dream.  They possessed none of the powers of a god, no magic, no curses, no immortality. And they had to live in the bodies of normal humans.  In this state, they could be injured or killed, but all that did was send them back to their own realm while leaving the flesh-suit that they had inhabited behind.

    Of course, when this was first understood by mankind there was a great deal of fear and speculation.  How could there not be?  In the face of such knowledge humanity could only ask; had many of the great figures of history had actually been gods merely seeking amusement?  Had Hitler been a deity seeking to cause bloodshed and war?  Had Leonardo da Vinci¡¯s brilliance simply been a false front for knowledge gained through powers?  How much of history was truly humanity¡¯s own achievements and how much was simply bored gods seeking entertainment?

    Humanity has been lucky as it learns about this new world that we find ourselves in.  Gods such as Hermes, Odin, Athena, and Thoth.  Angels such as Birimiel or Raziel.  Even spirits such as Coyote.  All of them have been willing to speak to mankind, to answer our questions in their famous interviews.

    It is their words that have laid such possibilities to rest.  As they described it, the closing of the paths between worlds was not anything so simple as a mere lack of access to the mortal plane.  Instead, it became as though our world actively rejected the presence of anything with any amount of divinity, so much so that even the acts of the gods as mortals have been forced from the recollection of history.

    Those gods that incarnated as mortals could enjoy their lives, but they could not impact the world.  They found that it was as though the laws of probability bent to ensure that any mark they could leave was minimized and buried.  If a god somehow started a riot, then it would have minimal effect and would then soon be forgotten.  If a god tried to fight in a war, then they might be successful, but their deeds would never be noticed, and any records of them would be lost.  If a god tried to gain fame through some great scientific discovery, then no one would believe them, and their research and findings would be lost.

    The more that a divinity tried to stand above mankind the more the world seemed to force them down.  It was quickly learnt that efforts to fight this would only end in punishment, misfortune and pain dogging them for as long as they tried.  A simple life, even an exciting life, was permitted, but not a loud one, not one that left an impact.  The mortal plane was for mortals, at least so long as the Paths were closed.

    So, the gods lived as mortals, as had angels, spirits and even some of the great monsters.  The world turned on, and the lives of humanity continued, the memories and evidence of the supernatural beings that once lived alongside them eroded and buried until they passed into mere myth and tales.

    For the gods and their ilk, the experience of incarnating as mere mortals was initially an interesting novelty, but in time it began to fall from favour amongst them.  Coming to the mortal world was interesting, but it also left them weak and helpless, forced to struggle on upon the merits of their ingenuity and intelligence, not something that many gods were willing to do.  More than that, due to the clouding of their minds some gods would act in ways contrary to their natures while incarnated.  A god of war might live a life as a farmer, a god of thieves and trade might live a life as a starving artist.  It all combined to make such a choice unappealing.

    However, in the century or so preceding the Black Sun, it had become almost fashionable among them to incarnate upon the Earth once more.  The advance of technology had made things interesting, and the sacrifices of living without divine power came to be seen as challenges to overcome, leading many bored deities to try to entertain themselves in that manner.

    Gods of war tried to fight in both the world wars as soldiers.  Gods of song and dance enjoyed trying to break into the evolving world of mass media entertainment.  Many gods even chose to see how things naturally unfolded and tried to lead normal lives for a few years, just to see what it was like.  Some of them only stayed for a few days, others lived for decades until they died of old age.  Their activities ran the full gambit of human experience.

    And, of course, many, many of them had children.

    I could see why the book that the doctor had published was such a best seller.  The narrative, the summation that he¡¯d put together was a skilful assembly of the many disparate facts swirling around into a coherent and concise theory.  The fact that he¡¯d managed to get Apollo¡¯s own stamp of approval on it was also a major contributing factor.

    I flicked through it a bit more, not really reading, just taking in chapter names, a few outstanding passages, a few illustrations, and some printed photographs.  The majority of the book was either legends of demigods in the past, like Heracles or Rama, or interviews and descriptions of some of the demigods showing up in the modern age.  It seemed to be an interesting contrast between ancient myths and modern media.  Along with several theories about how time might have changed the legends, and how the heroes of the past compared to the new ones of the present.

    For a moment I considered buying it, taking it home for a bedtime read.  Instead, I closed the book, putting it back on the shelf as I turned away.  I didn¡¯t feel like getting sucked into the whole Legends craze that seemed to be going on.

    I think it said something about how I felt that I didn¡¯t stop to look at the newest releases on video games.

    I concentrated on shopping from then on.  Picking up bread, tinned foods, fresh fruit and veg, the normal things that were needed in the kitchen.  It was in the fresh food aisles that I noticed something else that was . . . off.

    There were lots of signs saying things like ¡®British Grown¡¯ or ¡®Homeland Produce¡¯, signs that stated that they were all locally produced vegetables handpicked only a few days ago.  Then I noticed that the produce on display was all better than usual.  The tomatoes were all large, smooth, and vibrantly red in a way I¡¯d only rarely seen in the past.  Across in the fruit section, there were strawberries, large, ripe, with not a hint of white to them.  The sort of strawberries that you dreamed of but could rarely find.

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    Looking around I saw it was true for other things.  Cucumbers, lettuces, cabbage, potatoes, all of them looked bigger, healthier, and tastier than I was used to seeing in my local supermarket.  Where was the standard stuff, the produce grown to the lowest common denominator that the public was willing to accept?  Why was I only seeing the sort of food you¡¯d expect from high-class organic farms?  And why was it so cheap?

    It was only when I saw a few stylized crowns featured on some of the signs that it clicked for me.  The King!  I¡¯d heard things on the TV about how his presence had changed things in the UK, how the land had become healthier just by him being back.  And there were also the reports of farmers making up shrines to certain agricultural gods and goddesses . . .   was this the result?

    I honestly didn¡¯t know how I felt about that, eating food that had been grown using . . . magic?  Prayers?  It wasn¡¯t even a health concern, it was in the supermarket after all.  It was the idea of putting it in my body, of actually taking in something that had been grown in this new way.

    Still . . . the prices!  I was willing to take a couple of risks if it meant chowing down on stuff like this if that was all I had to pay.  Loading up some more bits into my trolly I moved on.

    I noticed more changes when I got to the meat aisles.  The proportions of food on display were different from what I remembered, less beef, less chicken, but more seafood.  All the meat had big ¡®organic¡¯ and ¡®free-range¡¯ labels stamped on them, and the fish and shellfish all sported labels loudly proclaiming them caught by ¡®traditional¡¯ or ¡®sustainable¡¯ means, even that they were ¡®wild¡¯.  It also didn¡¯t escape my notice that they were all larger and fatter than what I was used to.  The prawns were bigger than my fingers, the fish long and plump.  There were even lobsters, packed and ready to be taken, and so cheap!

    Seeing this the first thing I did was to grab one of the lobsters and begin to plan how much butter I could safely cook it in before my arteries began to protest.  It was quickly followed by a couple of crabs, a salmon, and, to my delighted surprise, a whole squid nearly as long as my arm, something I¡¯d never seen before.

    My shopping continued, the sections for toilet paper, washing up supplies and toothpaste all mercifully unchanged, and the familiarity of a regular shopping trip crept back in.

    That changed again when I drew near to the tills and saw the stand where the newspapers were on display.  Over the last few weeks, I¡¯d grown used to the headlines being about which god had shown up where, or what amazing thing was taking place.  It wasn¡¯t as though the gods and angels were swarming the world, but there were enough of them to keep a steady stream of major events going.  There¡¯d been interesting but harmless stuff, like the founding of Zeus¡¯s company, or Apollo breaking into the movie business.  Then there¡¯d been the serious stuff, the aftermath of the whims of wild gods, or some town left deserted by a demonic invasion.

    But today . . . the headline on the first paper I saw was about a fire in Nottingham.  Not some fire set by rogue elementals or some reckless new magic user, it was a fire that had started due to poorly maintained electrical wiring.  Sure, people had died, and there was a whole scandal about corruption and bribes, but it was just so . . . mundane.

    Looking at the other papers I saw that their headlines were also quiet topics.  A big fundraiser, one backed by priestesses of Hestia, had made record amounts of money for some charity or other.  An actor being caught taking drugs while on the set of a children¡¯s show.  Even the tabloids were simply about some crazy girl trying to sneak into Buckingham palace to try to seduce the King.  Unsure of what I was looking for I opened one of them at random, turning the pages as I tried to find something that would bring my confused feelings into some sort of clarity.

    Some updates on discussions between King Arthur and parliament.  Some puff piece about a new model making waves.  A human-interest story about an old couple who spent a large chunk of their savings on some new product from Olympus Industries, and how they thought it was cheap at the price.  None of them caught my interest though, instead I just kept flicking on, until . . .

    It was a full-page advert that stopped me.  Well, it wasn¡¯t really an advert, more like a public announcement.

    ARE YOU A DEMIGOD?

    The question was printed out in bright red words, a colour that drew the eye instinctively.  Beneath the question was some smaller print, something about a government-backed initiative to help new demigods understand their new powers and provide them with opportunities to legally use them to their fullest.  A cynical part of my mind noted that this would also let the government legally track any demigods that came forward.  Track them, influence them, grease palms here and there to make them take a path that would benefit those in charge.  After all, demigods might be powerful, but that didn¡¯t mean that they couldn¡¯t be . . . managed by those with sufficient intelligence and resources.

    Still, all of that was more of a background thought than anything else.  The vast majority of my attention was focused on that single question.  So simple, yet it represented something so complicated.

    The Legends hadn¡¯t just been gods and angels, there¡¯d been other immortals too, such as the fey, immortal dwarves, monsters, even elementals.  All of them seemed to have had access to the back paths between planes, the routes that let them incarnate upon earth at the cost of their power, immortality, and memories, and many of them had used them.  However, for some, it had been easier than others.  The gods paid a slightly easier toll, while angels had to surrender their entire identity to incarnate as humans.  Monsters could only do so rarely and often lived brief and violent lives.  Creatures such as the fay or elementals had it hardest of all, their almost alien minds having the hardest time adapting to human lives when they incarnated.

    Still, these supernatural races all had members that were willing to pay the price for a life on earth, and in those lives many of them had children.  Children that had children of their own, establishing bloodlines.  Bloodlines that had in many cases survived to the present day.  Bloodlines that carried the inactive spark of power that had been inherited from their legendary progenitor.

    Through the centuries these inheritors had been unaware of what they were.  With the realms of the divinities cut off from Earth these bloodlines were just like any others, save maybe for a tiny bit of talent in some field or other, such as music or strategy.  They would live normal lives as farmers, soldiers, councilmen or beggars, all the many walks of life. They would grow old as time passed and die as easily as any other mortal.  There was nothing to set them apart from the rest of humanity.  At least, not until the days after the Black Sun.

    That was when things changed.  It wasn¡¯t as though every carrier of powerful blood suddenly gained their powers all at once.  Instead, it was that they regained the potential to use that power, to Awaken the sleeping divinity within them.  Some found it easy, gaining their inherited power within days of the end of the Black Sun, but others took longer.  It was an ongoing process, as more demigods around the world Awakened every day, adding another layer of complexity to the emerging new world order.

    So far, some of them had chosen to use their new power to advance their own lot to gain wealth and status.  Others, though, had felt something else.  Demigods seemed to have a natural predisposition to seeking notoriety, and while some did indulge their darker aspects a great portion chose altruism and glory.

    With the demigods making waves of their own it was hardly a surprise that we were all hungry to know more, to be able to make sense of the changing world.  It was now known that there were two types of demigods, something that had been widely publicized once confirmed.

    The first were the Direct Children, or simply Children for short.  These were first-generation demigods, ones with a Legend being one of their parents akin to the demigods of legend, like Hercules or Perseus.  They were powerful for the most part, the sorts that could, at least for a short time, go toe to toe with full deities.  There didn¡¯t seem to be that many of them worldwide, at least when compared to the Legacies.  The exact number was uncertain, and constantly changing, but was thought to be in the hundreds.

    The second, and far more common type, were the Legacies, descendants of the gods, or other Legends, removed by several generations.  Back when the Legends incarnated as mortals in the far past the children that they sired would be unawakened demigods.  These children would go on to have children of their own, thus establishing a lineage with divine power latent within it.

    The power in such bloodlines didn¡¯t just spread out.  Rather than being diluted, this divine inheritance remained intact through each generation and was held by only one individual.  Though, if the individual that held the divine inheritance died before having a child, then it would be lost

    Legacies made up most of the demigods in the world and tended to be a bit weaker than direct children.  According to gods willing to speak on the matter, this was due to them being further removed from the source of their divinity than a blood child of a Legend would have been.  The difference was not great, but it was there.

    Being a demigod had become a sort of lottery.  The odds were against it, but they weren¡¯t so great that you didn¡¯t hear of it happening.  There were already a few in the UK, and more in Europe, America, and Asia.  There was no way to know who was going to Awaken next, no way to know who had inherited divine power.

    As such it was hardly a surprise that demigods were followed by just about everyone.  True, just like anything else that rose to the public¡¯s fickle attention they would quickly fade from it if they didn¡¯t remain sensational.  Those that kept on in the spotlight were those that were skilled enough, competent enough, or just eye-catching enough.

    People loved them, lived vicariously through them to a degree, I guessed.  There was endless speculation on what the next threat they¡¯d face would be, who could beat who, who was dating who, who hated who, who was richer than who, who was setting what trend, it just went on.  It would have almost been comical, had it not been clear just how seriously everyone was taking it.  The followings of the more popular demigods had an almost cult-like feeling to them, a real feel of the ¡®fanatic¡¯ part of fans.

    There¡¯d also been some pretty dark stuff happening.  People desperate for power and recognition, for something to feel special about, putting themselves in danger in the hope they would get lucky and Awaken.  People had been injured, crippled, or killed.  But every time a demigod Awakened, every time someone went from ordinary to superhuman, it fuelled that envy, that desire, that tiny voice at the back of your mind that asked you ¡®what if?¡¯.

    It could be anyone, that was the thing.  So far there was no way to tell.  It didn¡¯t show up in genetics, at least not with the present testing, and even gods and angels had trouble finding the Legacies that had been hidden by time.  So, it was hardly surprising to see an announcement like the one staring me in the face.

    ¡®Are You a Demigod?¡¯  What a question!  The fact that it was there, printed out in a paper I read semiregularly . . .  That it had to ask to anyone, including me . . .  That it was actually a valid question for just about everyone on the planet . . .  This was what the world had come to!  This was the new normal!

    Those were the thoughts that ran through my head, and my train of thought came to a screeching halt as the full meaning of them hit me.

    This was my life now.  This was the world I lived in.  Food produced and farmed using the power of gods and heroes.  Entertainment about the Legends, with gods in it, with demigods in it.  The newspaper, the front page . . . some part of me gaped as I realized that people had grown to accept this new world so much that in some cases it wasn¡¯t even making the front page anymore!

    I¡¯m not sure how long I stood there, staring at the page, my thoughts scurrying around like blind mice.  It was only when someone bumped into me that I was startled back to reality.  Embarrassed I shoved the newspaper into the trolly and headed for the tills.

    It was only when I started to load up my car that it clicked for me.  As mundane and simple as this task had been it was also the first time that I¡¯d really gone out for a while now.  This had been my first time seeing how the world had changed in such a short time.

    Sure, I¡¯d been keeping up on current events, but that was only through overheard discussions, short conversations at work, or distractedly watching the news in the morning while shovelling down my breakfast.  I knew about the big events, but I¡¯d lost track of the small stuff.

    My shopping trip had been the first time going out for almost a month, and the full change, the fact that what would have been unthinkable a year ago was becoming the new normal, was hitting me all at once.

    What was happening wasn¡¯t just big events like the angel and demon fight I¡¯d gotten close to.  It wasn¡¯t just far-off things like what was happening in America, Africa and China.  It wasn¡¯t even the stuff that was happening here in England, with Arthur and his knights.  It was happening to me, to my life, to the little things in it.  Even if I could continue with a quiet and simple life, it was still being affected by the return of the Legends.  It wasn¡¯t just the headlines or the papers, or things on the internet.  It was the food I ate, the movies I watched, and the books I read.

    This was now my life.  I mulled over that as I made my way home.

 Chapter Four: The Turning Point: Part One

    It was a Saturday; I had the day off and was enjoying being the only one home.  Chris was out with his girlfriend, and Doug was attending one of the rallies in favour of the King, something I still wasn¡¯t too keen on.

    So, what was I doing while one friend was enjoying a romantic day out, and the other was trying to influence the direction our country would take?

    ¡°Oh, come on!  Hades would trounce Anubis¡¯s ass!  Undead Spartans clearly trump animated mummies!¡±

    I was enjoying a read-through on the ¡®Divine Versus¡¯ on the internet.  It was a rather silly website that had sprung up in the wake of the gods¡¯ return. Basically, it used all the available public knowledge on the various gods that had been interviewed, worshipped, or simply observed, to make a guess as to the outcome of hypothetical battles.  There was a rather complex rating system that assigned numerical values to each of the powers of the gods in question, based on previous feats that had been confirmed.  In the case of gods that hadn¡¯t shown up in the mortal world yet their myths and legends were used to approximate what they might be capable of.  It was by no means perfect, and a large part of the site was taken up with members arguing over the validity of just about everything, but that was part of the fun.

    I had just finished reading through a match between the Egyptian God of Mummification and the Greek God of the Underworld when I heard the knock.

    What surprised me most about it was hearing it at all.  After all, there was a doorbell right next to the door; one that had been painted a bright, fluorescent blue by Doug so that there was no way that it could be easily missed.  For someone to be knocking, it meant that they were wilfully ignoring it.

    But that was the only really surprising thing about it.  With the way the world had been going getting used to interruptions by people at the door was a regular thing.  There was always someone coming round, preaching for one god or another, suggesting ways that your soul could be saved, telling you that you were damned, declaring that the world would soon come to an end.  It seemed interminable.

    Lots of shops were now selling these little plaques that you could attach to your front door, plaques that said that they weren¡¯t interested in preachers or doomsayers.  I¡¯d kept meaning to buy one, and at that moment I was regretting not having got one yet.

    I quietly made a bet with myself as I left my room and went downstairs to the main door.  I decided that if I could guess the religious denomination of whoever was knocking then I¡¯d treat myself to one of the little tubs of ice cream that I kept in the freezer for a special occasion.  As I got near the door, I decided that I¡¯d go with Christianity.

    All right, Christianity it was.  Now, who was knocking on my door?

    Opening my door, I found a very pretty blonde girl dressed in plate armour and with a sword at her hip.  Had I known, then I would have been a great deal more eager to answer the door, let me tell you.

    This wasn¡¯t some fake armour either, I could tell that the steel she wore looked tough and solid.  And even though the breastplate was moulded to cover a feminine chest it wasn¡¯t the impractical fantasy armour that had a boob window, or anything like that.  Though unquestionably made of metal the armour was a sort of pearly white rather than silvery and decorated with golden filigree along the edges of the plates and seams, but that didn¡¯t detract from the clear functionality of its design as protection.  Underneath this, she seemed to be wearing a combination of chainmail and a close-fitting leather bodysuit that hugged her snugly from what I could see.

    Her hair was the most golden blonde that I¡¯d ever seen and was cut in a fairly short bob that framed her face. Her eyes were a blue that could only be described as rich and sat in a face that I would have expected to see in a starring role on tv, not on my doorstep.  If I had to guess, I would have put her age as about my own and as far as height went, I only had a couple of inches on her.  I was a fairly tall guy, so that would have put her at something like five foot nine, but there was something about her that made her seem even taller.  The clear confidence with which she held herself seemed to radiate off her, and between that and her looks, I was momentarily speechless.

    ¡°Bonjour. I am here to meet with Adam, could you please summon him for me?¡±

    Her voice was as pleasant as the rest of her appearance and had a light French accent to it.  It took me a couple of moments to get my wits together and answer. A beauty in armour with a sword at your door and looking for you is a good reason to be stunned.

    ¡°Uhh . . . yes, that¡¯s me! Umm, how can I help you?¡±

    In response, the armoured woman just looked at me and blinked.  Then she sort of leaned to the side as though trying to look around me, as though expecting someone to be hiding there.

    ¡°There is not another Adam in this dwelling?  You are the only one?¡±

    That was enough to shake me back to full senses.  I mean, it wasn¡¯t asked in a deliberately cruel manner, but still, ouch!

    ¡°No, I¡¯m the only Adam that lives here.  Now, might I ask who you are and what you¡¯re doing here?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer immediately, instead, she took a step back and took a moment to look over both me and my home.  I could hear her murmuring to herself, as if to order her thoughts.

    ¡°Pour quoi mon Dieu? Pour quoi l¡¯Angleterre ? S?rement une bonne famille fran?aise aurait ¨¦t¨¦ beaucoup mieux. J''aurais certainement pr¨¦f¨¦r¨¦ travailler avec un fran?ais !¡±

    I understood some of it, but I have to admit that my French is not the best. Still, I got a bit of it.  She was saying something about God, why God did something?  And there was also something about a good French family, but most of the rest I didn¡¯t understand.

    She went quiet for a bit, before she stepped in close again, then bowed her head slightly as if in apology.

    ¡°Please forgive my rude manners.  I am afraid that I was taken somewhat by surprise to find that you are the one I was called to find.  I confess that I was expecting someone . . . different.¡±

    Well, okay then, at least she seemed to have some decent manners.

    ¡°Okay . . . Ummm, how can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I have been sent here on a mission of divine mandate!  It is essential that you come with me immediately, you are no longer safe here.¡±

    Really, what was I meant to say to something like that?  I freely admit it, my brain sort of froze up, and I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°I have been assigned a divine mission to see to your safety and education,¡± She explained, her voice earnest and sincere. ¡°There are forces that seek to do you harm, and it is my duty to ensure that you remain protected until such time as you are ready to defend yourself.¡±

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    I just stared at her, my mind going over her words and trying to process them.  She was here to protect me?  From what?  Why would I need to be protected?  And she was on a divine mission?  For a bit, my brain just spun, like a bunch of gears that had lost their grips and were just wheeling in place.  Then a thought occurred to me.  It was that thought that let everything else click back into place.

    This was a con!

    When the supernatural had been confirmed as real there¡¯s been plenty of assholes willing to take advantage of it, even if it got people hurt.  It eased off after some gods proved they didn¡¯t appreciate their name being taken in vain, but there were still plenty of them out there.

    This girl . . . she hadn¡¯t mentioned any gods by name, just spoken of her ¡®divine¡¯ mandate or mission.  Clever.  Well, that was one way to avoid trouble and draw me in.  Then there was the talk about me being in danger and needing to be protected.  It was a good con, one that worked on both fear and pride.  Fear that something or someone meant me harm, pride in that it implied that I was special, that some divinity regarded me as important.

    Well, I wasn¡¯t going to fall for it.

    ¡°Look, whatever you¡¯re selling, I¡¯m not buying, okay?¡±

    I didn¡¯t wait for a response; I just closed the door in her face.  Then the knocking came again, this time more forcefully.  As I opened the door I knew this wasn¡¯t going to be pleasant; the forceful ones were always hard to deal with.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°You have to come with me!¡± She insisted, her brow creasing slightly and her eyes narrowing.

    ¡°Are you deaf?  I said that I¡¯m not buying it, so why are you wasting both our time?¡±

    Perhaps it wasn¡¯t my smartest move, taking that tone with someone that had a sword, but I was convinced I was just dealing with a conwoman.

    ¡°I am being completely serious in this matter!¡± She wasn¡¯t quite yelling it, but her voice was starting to get louder. ¡°You are in danger, and it is my duty to safeguard and teach you!¡±

    ¡°Look, if you really want me to believe you then why don¡¯t you show me something that¡¯ll convince me?  There¡¯re way too many liars and con people around these days for me to take anything at face value.¡±

    There, nice and simple.  Now, with any luck, she would leave me alone.

    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± It was a bit unnerving, just how she calmed down so quickly, and she was smiling.  I hoped that meant there wasn¡¯t going to be any violence or unpleasantness. ¡°It is only sensible that you would require proof that I am no charlatane.  Alors, have no fear, the Lord provides!¡±

    It would have been sensible to stay quiet, to not engage her further, but I confess that my curiosity got the better of me.

    ¡°And what Lord would that be?  Are we talking Lord Zeus, Shiva . . . anyone I¡¯d know?¡±

    ¡°I was charged not by one of the lesser gods,¡± she declared as she turned away from me and started to look around. ¡°Once I would have called them false idols, though now I know better.  They have as much of a place in the divine order as do the angels, but I do not revere them.  I was placed upon this path by God Almighty himself, the Creator of all and the father of our Saviour.¡±

    Ah, so she was of the Judeo-Christian persuasion. I guessed I won my little bet with myself.  It was also an interesting choice, especially since some angels had proven themselves to be . . . vindictive when dealing with ¡®false prophets¡¯, enough so that most conmen tried to steer clear of invoking such authority.  Perhaps I was dealing with well-meaning delusion rather than malicious intent.  It would be easier to deal with her if that was the case, and that was something to be thankful for.  Now, I just had to see what she-

    The sight of a sword made of light forming in the armoured girl¡¯s hands managed to bring my train of thought to a halt as thoroughly as if it had run into an imaginary mountain.

    I don¡¯t mean that she drew her sword and it was now catching the light from the sun overhead.  No, what I saw was light spring from seemingly nowhere between her hands; a light that shone brightly, then dimmed to a strong glow as it condensed, for want of a better term, into a classic European longsword.  I could see it from where I stood, the light taking the form of a blade, cross guard, hilt and pommel.  I could see the detail of a Fleur de Lis worked into the guard, the leather around the hilt, the carving on the pommel.  I could see all of that, but I could also see that it wasn¡¯t made of metal, it was made of light.  Hell, I could actually see through it since it was slightly transparent.

    I could only stare at it in stupefaction for a moment though, because the girl wasn¡¯t just standing there holding it up for me to see.  She was moving.

    The house I lived in faced onto a fairly quiet street, more of a side road really, so it didn¡¯t see masses of traffic.  There was the front lawn and drive to the garage, then the pavement.  Along my street, there were several trees.

    Just by our lawn, there was a lovely chestnut tree.  It wasn¡¯t particularly tall, but it was pretty sturdy, enough for some drunk driver to have driven his car into it, and for his car had come out the worse off.

    The girl¡¯s arm swung, the blade made of light flashed, and the tree fell over.

    It was at about this point that my brain finally started to work again, shocked back into action by the felling of the tree.  This wasn¡¯t some cheap trick, this was the real deal!

    No, no no no!  I had to be rational about this.  Was this a trick?  Some overly elaborate con?  I had to be sure.  My legs, somewhat more unsteady than I would have liked, took me over to the tree.

    I took a look at both the fresh stump and the fallen tree.  Fortunately, it had toppled backwards so that the spread of branches now took up a good portion of the front lawn of my house and that of our neighbours.  The armoured girl saw me coming and stepped aside, the sword of light fading as she allowed me to take a look at her handiwork.  The cut was smooth as glass, with no splintering, no burning.  A little bit of sap was starting to leak out, but aside from that there was almost no sign that the wood had been cut just seconds before, instead, it looked as pristine as something on display at a museum exhibit.

    ¡°I kinda liked that tree, you know.¡±

    The words just slipped out on their own, little more than some random thought that was verbalized due to shock and confusion, but the girl turned to look at me as she heard them.

    ¡°Je suis d¨¦sol¨¦e.  It is unworthy to use His gifts in such a carelessly destructive manner.  Allow me to correct it.¡±

    I just stared at her, not really getting what she was saying.  My head was still a scrabbled mess as I tried to organize what I had seen into some semblance of order.  Those attempts were thrown into further chaos when she reached down and just picked up the severed top of the chestnut tree.

    She lifted the trunk, then took it in both hands and placed it back on the stump, twisting it a little so that it was aligned properly with how it had been.  Her eyes closed and from her hands, a soft blue light began to emanate soaking into the tree where she was touching it.  Right there, right in front of my eyes, I watched as the cut went fuzzy, and then vanished.  She stepped back, letting go of the trunk, and it stayed in place.  A breeze moved the leaves and branches, and I waited for it to fall, for it to overbalance and break again.  But it didn¡¯t.

    It . . . it was fixed.  It wasn¡¯t an illusion or a trick, she had cut the tree down, and then she had put it back together!

    Oh God, she was for real!  This was for real!

    ¡°I . . . I . . .¡±

    Words just wouldn¡¯t come.  All I could do was stare at her as though she were an oncoming train rather than an oddly dressed young woman.  Some of that must have shown on my face because her features softened as she looked at me.

    ¡°I understand that this is a lot to take in.  Perhaps we should retire into your domicile?  It will allow us to converse in more detail.¡±

    The way she spoke was a bit odd, some part of my mind noted.  It made me think of someone that had been . . . over-educated?  Was that even a thing?  Strange what one¡¯s mind would latch onto in the face of a situation that it was having trouble getting a grip on.

    ¡°I . . . sure.  Please come in.¡±

    Well, if nothing else then bringing her in would give me a chance to get something to drink.  Yes, coffee, that was a good idea.  With any luck, a good cup of the strong stuff would be able to help me jump-start the old grey matter, because up to this point I was, quite frankly, embarrassing myself.

    And as a bonus, it would get her off the street. So far nobody had come out yet, but that tree had made a rather loud noise when it went down.  If she felt that she had to do something else to prove herself she might end up doing something more drastic, and I really didn¡¯t want the whole neighbourhood knowing that it was all about me.

    ¡°I would be honoured.¡±

    With a smile, she turned and walked over to the door, and into my home.  Watching her move was interesting.  I had expected her to be heavy on her feet given the armour she was wearing.  However, she moved with the sort of casual grace that I would have expected from a professional dancer.

    And I¡¯ll be honest, the fact that she filled that armour out pretty nicely might also have caught my eyes.

    Shaking my head, I followed her in.

 Chapter Four: The Turning Point: Part Two

    ¡°Would you like some tea?¡±

    The question came out largely on automatic, common civility that had been drilled into me as a polite way of greeting someone who had arrived at my home.

    ¡°Ah.  Oui, oui I would appreciate a drink.¡±

    I stepped into the kitchen and began to make the tea in an almost mechanical manner.  I made a cup for us both and brought the drinks back to the living room where the armoured young woman was looking at some of the pictures on the mantlepiece.  Most of them were of either Chris or Doug¡¯s family, but there was one of me with my parents from when I was twelve.

    ¡°These are your adopted parents?¡± She asked as she turned to face me, still holding the simple framed photo.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m adopted?¡±

    I asked, surprised that she hadn¡¯t known what I looked like, but she had known I was adopted.

    ¡°I was told something of your circumstances when I was assigned this task.  However, much was left unsaid so we could form our impressions of each other upon equal footing.¡±

    ¡°Ah . . . okay.  Anyway, Amanda and Anthony, yes, they¡¯re my parent, the best I could¡¯ve hoped for!¡±

    Setting her tea on the table in the middle of the room I took a deep breath as we both sat down.  She had seated herself in one of the big armchairs and I had taken one end of the sofa.

    ¡°All right, you said that you were here for me, right?  So, what¡¯s going on?¡± I paused for a moment, then changed my mind. ¡°No, actually, how about you tell me who you are?  You know who I am, so who am I talking to?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier,¡± She said, leaning forward in her chair in a sort of seated bow. ¡°I am Jeanne, once known as Jeanne d¡¯Arc, the Maiden of Orleans.  You may address me by my English name of Joan, if you so choose, I understand it has become the more popular version of my name in the years since my passing.  Regardless, I have been returned to the world by our Lord¡¯s will so that I might once more fulfil His design.¡±

    The teacup I was holding rattled against the saucer as my hand trembled and I felt a surge of adrenaline hit my system as I realized I had JOAN OF ARC sitting in my living room!

    Resurrected souls weren¡¯t an unknown in the world after the Black Sun, but they were rare.  Certain champions of the gods had been given life once more to serve their patrons as they were needed.  There were rumours that Heracles had been resurrected in Australia to aid in one of Zeus¡¯ schemes, and it was confirmed that Saint George had been returned to the world by heavenly agency.  Here in Britain, we had King Arthur, who had returned from Avalon to safeguard the lands he once ruled.

    There had been a lot of interest in them when they first appeared, and it was originally suggested that they were demigods that had been returned by their parents.  Though this was the case with some of them it was also confirmed by both gods and angels that many of them had not a drop of divine blood in them.  This didn¡¯t seem to hold them back too much, though they tended to be a bit weaker in terms of raw power.  Most made up for that by possessing odds traits or skills that were unique to them, though there were outliers like King Arthur, who possessed power on a level with a true god.

    Joan of Arc getting resurrected was understandable.  She was one of the most famous female saints in the world, and unlike most others, she had a distinctly martial background that made it even more likely she¡¯d be chosen as a warrior of Heaven.  I could also see the clues now, her slight French accent, the armour, her obvious reverence for God.

    ¡°I . . . I am honoured to meet you.¡± I managed to get out.

    Even as I said it, I was mentally going over everything I knew about her.  Granted, most of it was stuff films and documentaries.  Still, it was something to go on.

    If I remembered right Joan of Arc was a French peasant girl born during the last years of the Hundred Year War between England and France.  At the time England had been winning, having seized many important locations, including a large chunk of the north of France, as well as the place where the King had to be crowned in order to be officially recognised.  Joan had visions that told her to drive the English from her country, and she set out to do just that.  She was attributed with immense charisma and luck because nothing else would explain how she¡¯d managed to accomplish the things she did.

    Firstly, she managed to convince the king of the time to let her, an illiterate farm girl only seventeen years old, her take charge of the country¡¯s army.  Then she managed to lead that army to victory at Orleans, thus gaining her name, and revitalizing a country that had been on the brink of despair.  She then went on to score several victories that led the French to eventually drive the English from their lands.

    In the end, she was captured though and placed on trial for heresy and witchcraft by the English.  If I remembered right, they were unable to prove anything and ended up sentencing her to death for what was essentially wearing men¡¯s clothing, and they were only able to do that because they had a completely biased jury.  She ended up being burnt at the stake, but her death was not enough to swing the tide back in the favour of the English, and about twenty years later the Hundred Years War ended.  Another decade or so later a retrial was held that exonerated Joan of all the charges against her.

    Still, there were a few things that were jumping out at me as I looked at her.  Most historical depictions of Joan of Arc showed her to have dark hair, brown or black, not blonde, and she wasn¡¯t hailed as some great beauty either.  Additionally, even though she did wear armour there was no historical proof that she had ever actually wielded weapons.  Her role had been as a leader and a boost to morale.  I was pretty sure I¡¯d read that she said she had rather carried her banner than a sword.

    One thing was for sure, she clearly had some sort of divine powers now.  That demonstration with the tree made that pretty clear.

    ¡°The honour is mine.  When I was chosen for this holy duty what other recourse could there be but to accept?¡±

    ¡°You were chosen by God?¡±

    I had so many questions!  What was being dead like?  What was Heaven like?  How had she come back to life?  What was with the new look?  Was she an angel now?  What kind of being was God?  It was all I could do not to start spitting them out as they came to me.

    ¡°Oui,¡± The one word was spoken utterly without any of the sort of pride or confidence that I would have expected from such a claim.  Instead, there was only a respectful reverence for the one about whom she spoke. ¡°It was my privilege to be chosen for this task by the Lord Almighty himself.  I now walk the earth once more by his Grace, and I shall complete the task he has assigned me.¡±

    I took a large gulp of my tea.  It was oddly comforting as I felt the warm liquid travel down my throat and settle into my stomach.  I took a moment to let it sit there, to let it calm the moths that seemed to have taken up residence there, before opening my eyes and looking directly at the resurrected heroine before me.

    ¡°All right, I think I¡¯m braced now.  What do you need me for, and why me?¡±

    That was it, this was the billion-dollar questions and I had to set my teacup down as I asked it.  As I did so Joan nodded.

    ¡°You are, of course, aware of the demigods that have emerged and continue to emerge in the wake of the return of the old power?¡±

    I just nodded.  One would have to be an absolutely wilful hermit cut off from all society to have avoided hearing about it.

    ¡°And you are aware of how some of these have been revealed to be the children of Heaven, Nephilim born of angels that took mortal flesh during the time of Separation?¡±

    Again, I nodded.  The revealing of the Nephilim had been . . . disruptive in the Judaeo-Christian community as it had proven that angels could have carnal relations with mortals without falling from Grace.

    As with the gods, angels could enter the mortal realm during the time that the power of the divine and the infernal had been locked out.  The difference was that while the gods could retain some of their memories and come and go as they wished, the angels and the demons had to pay steeper prices.  Unlike gods they didn¡¯t keep any sense of their original selves, no memories, no convictions, nothing.  they were essentially reset to zero as they were reborn.

    The threat was that whatever sins they committed as a mortal still hung onto them when they returned to the Heavens.  An angel could lead such a terrible life that they¡¯d Fall as soon as their power returned.  This was unusual though since most of the angelic ranks only went to the mortal realm to try to experience the joys of love and family, and the results of this had been the Nephilim.

    Nephilim were rarer than demigods since fewer angels had come to the mortal world than the gods.  That said the children of angels were every bit as formidable as the offspring of the deities.

    Did she mean that I was one?  That would make sense, it would certainly explain why a resurrected saint was knocking on my door.

    ¡°I have been charged to find you because I was told that your blood is that of one of the highest lineages in Heaven.  The Almighty spoke to me and told me to find and guard you, to act as your protector, your teacher, and your friend.  Yours is to be a hard life, but it is my duty to be at your side.¡±

    What was I possibly meant to say in response to that?  I mean, sure, it¡¯s the dream of most guys for someone to turn up and say, ¡®You, you are special, and it is your destiny to be a great hero!¡¯  That¡¯s the kind of childhood fantasy that sticks with you.  It¡¯s the reason that even as you grow up you still enjoy films and books and comics about fantasy tales of knights, dragons, superheroes and so on.  But you enjoy it because it¡¯s just a fantasy, a daydream that is fun to indulge in.  You can imagine yourself as the brave hero, gifted with good looks and charm, respected by all, loved by many, invincible in combat, knowledgeable outside it, that¡¯s the appeal of the fantasy.

    It¡¯s quite another thing to find out it was actually happening to you.  Suddenly all those brushes with death, those nail biting fights, those sudden betrayals, they didn¡¯t look anywhere near as much fun anymore.

    ¡°I . . . I . . . What . . . what am I meant to do?!¡±

    The last came out as almost a whine, I just couldn¡¯t help it.

    ¡°That our Lord could not tell me.  The future is a matter of free will, and though his majesty surpasses such things as time and the unknown, he protects our freedom by not interfering.  He did tell me that you are born to great power, that your bloodline will make you one that will influence the course the world shall take.  This can be for good or for ill though, and there will be those that shall try to use you for their own ends, or slay you so that you may not interfere with their goals.¡±

    ¡°But . . . but I¡¯m just me!  I . . . I¡¯m just a guy that doesn¡¯t know what he wants to do with his life!  Great power?  ME?!  I . . . I mean, come on . . .¡±

    Even though my words might have been tinged with growing hysteria they did carry the weight of truth to them.  Those that had the blood of divinity, it seemed to me, were always marked in some way even before their powers awoke.  They were unusually tall, athletically gifted, natural combatants, uncommonly beautiful or handsome or something.  Me?  I was just a normal guy, normally average, normally odd.

    How the hell could I be a child of divinity when I was so ordinary?

    ¡°Have faith, Adam.¡± The absolute certainty in her calm and gentle voice was actually somewhat intimidating. ¡°Notre Signeur would not have sent me here to find you unless it was for a reason.  He told me to come to this home and to ask for the one called Adam.  That is you, so you are the one that I have come to aid.  There is power hidden in you, and it is a power that will one day serve in His plan.  The world is in turmoil now, the gods that were once worshipped by the pagans have returned, and so too have their monsters and enemies. Already there are those that have risen up to protect the innocent, both among the gods and their offspring, but there will be a need for more.  You have hidden depths that will make you suitable for what is to come, believe in Him.¡±

    She paused for a moment, and the look she directed at me was breath-taking.  Have you ever had someone look at you with absolute faith?  Loving parents can believe in you.  Romantic partners can have faith in you.  Siblings can tell you that you can do it.  But at the end of the day, you know they¡¯re biased, that that it¡¯s all subjective.  Joan, she wasn¡¯t voicing an opinion, as far as she was concerned, she was stating facts, something she knew with absolute certainty.  The sky was blue, water was wet, things fell, and I was worth protecting.

    I was inspired, excited, exhilarated.  I was also completely and utterly terrified.

    ¡°You really think I¡¯ve got something like that hidden in me?¡±

    She just nodded at my question and then tilted her head slightly to the side.

    ¡°Yes, He would not tell me an untruth before setting this task upon me.  The power of Heaven sleeps within you, I am certain, it is simply hidden.¡±

    She paused for a moment.

    ¡°Very well hidden.¡±

    Ouch, that one went right to the ego.  Did she have to hit the nail on the head quite that hard?

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    The single word came out rather dry, but I could feel a smile tugging at my lips.  Joan seemed to be reciprocating, though hers was a subtle thing.

    ¡°So, now what?¡±

    The resurrected hero took a drink of her tea and then sat back into the armchair, her face becoming serious.

    ¡°Your safety has to take priority, but there should be a short time before the forces moving against you can find you.  We should use that time to work to awaken your dormant divinity before then, you will be more likely to survive if you have power of your own to use.¡±

    ¡°I . . . you know how to do that?¡±

    As far as I knew there wasn¡¯t any known safe and reliable way for a demigod or Nephilim to Awaken to their powers on their own.  There were cases where a god or other Legend had found their child or descendant and had Awakened them.  This came easily to them since they were the source of the demigod¡¯s divinity it was almost as simple as one candle lighting another, and completely safe for both of them

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    A demigod Awakening without the aid of their progenitor was another matter entirely.

    Several ways were known, the results of observing demigods that Awakened on their own.  The problem was that none of them were reliable.  Even if you had divine blood in you, trying to force the Awakening was likely to go wrong.  Still, those desperate for power or security would try anything.

    So far three general ways to Awaken had been figured out.

    The simplest method was to have a demigod be infused by some external power.  This could be done by a divine progenitor, a friendly god, or even a helpful magic user. It could also be done by the unawakened demigod stumbling into an area saturated by power or being in contact with a magic item when it broke.  If done by someone that knew what they were doing it could be less risky, but for the unlucky or unprepared it could lead to fates worse than death.

    The most common way so far was to Awaken due to experiencing an extremely strong surge of emotions.  The absolute fear for your life, the despair of losing everything, the blazing outrage of injustice and discrimination, that was the sort of thing you needed to kindle sleeping divinity.  It was utterly unreliable though, and many deaths had resulted from those thinking that putting themselves in danger could net them powers.

    Lastly, it seemed possible for demigods to Awaken themselves using nothing but self-control and discipline.  In Asia, there were publicized examples of dormant demigods Awakening their powers after extended and intense meditation.  The problem was that months or even years of dedicated training were needed, the demigods who had Awakened this way having been monks or yogis.

    The problem was that we knew so little, that these strange powers were so new and alien.  The powers of divinity and magic just didn¡¯t fit into the framework of the world we were used to.

    ¡°Your divinity is very strong and will be difficult to Awaken.  However, I have learnt of a method by which it could be done safely.  It will take some time to set up, but once I have it ready it should only take an hour or two to awaken the power of Heaven that you possess.¡±

    The power of Heaven . . .  I¡¯d never been too concerned about who my blood parents were, as I said before.  Anthony and Amanda were my parents, and I had never been concerned with it being otherwise, but not now . . . now that I had a chance to learn . . .

    ¡°You say my power is from Heaven, does that mean an angel was one of my blood parents?¡±

    Joan paused for a moment, looking at me as she took another sip of tea.  Her look was gentle, but there was also regret there.  As soon as she began to answer I understood why.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I am sorry to say.  The Lord God did not inform me as to what your parentage was, only that your power would be great.  He told me that it was not simply a matter of who your divine parent was, the bloodline of your mortal parent was also a distinguished one, one that could be traced back to when Bath Kol took mortal flesh and sired a child.¡±

    That just drew a confused blink from me.

    ¡°Bath who?¡±

    It might not have been the most sophisticated reaction, but I wasn¡¯t at my best.  I did notice a brief flash of disappointment cross Joan¡¯s face before she replied.

    ¡°Bath Kol is the Daughter that Bears the Voice of God to mankind.  She is one of the strongest angels, sister to the likes of Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.¡±

    ¡°I thought it was the Metatron that was the Voice of God.¡± I blurted out.

    ¡°The Metatron is the angel that carries the Word of God to those prophets and holy men that are meant to guide His flock and pass on His wisdom.  When the Lord wishes to speak to all of his mortal children, when it is time to proclaim His judgement or to announce His will it is Bath Kol that acts as His Voice.¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯s what?  My great, great grandmother?¡±

    ¡°I believe the ancestry is a bit more removed.  As I understand it, the last time the Daughter of the Voice descended to the mortal realm Britain was still protected by the Knights of the Round Table.¡±

    Okay, that one I did know.  King Arthur had been estimated to have ruled England somewhere in early 500AD.  The collapse of Camelot had been one of the signs of the final end of the Age of the Gods.

    ¡°All right, do you have any ideas who my parent is?  Even if . . . even if God didn¡¯t tell you you¡¯ve got to have some ideas of your own, right?¡±

    ¡°It is really not my place to speculate upon the angels of our Lord.¡± She said.  ¡°I . . . I cannot completely remember my time in Heaven, not anymore.  To retain my sanity after returning to this world of mortal existence He needed to dull my memories or suppress whole parts.  I do not remember much, but I do remember the angels.  Here, in this world, they are great beings with powers that allow them to match the gods and stand above humanity, but they are constrained by the forms they take.  In Heaven though, there they were unfettered, and I can recall something of them.¡±

    She paused and looked up at me, her eyes intense and piercing.

    ¡°They are beings of light and will that are as close to perfection as can be without being their creator.  They are will, purpose, and radiance incarnate, but at the same time, they are terribly close to being like mortals.  They have emotions in the way we do, but there is more to them than that, things that our minds can¡¯t conceive of because they are so different.  Even so, they want the same things we do.  They have a part of them that yearns for things like love and children.¡±

    Joan paused again, looking at me with eyes that were now a bit sad.

    ¡°They cannot have children.  Angels are created by the Lord God and are fully matured and aware from the instant that they come into being, so they have no childhoods.  Angels cannot have children with one another, so there is no way for pure-blooded offspring to be born.  The only way an angel can become a parent is with a mortal, that is why so many of them chose to take mortal flesh, even after the Paths of Divinity were broken.

    ¡°To have a child, to see a new life come into the world and to know that you are a part of them, just as they will always be a part of you, that is what so many of the ranks of Heaven wish for.  Even the greatest angels such as Michael and Gabriel have such wants buried inside them.  So, it could be any of them, from the simple soldiers to the great Archangels that serve as His direct hands.  There is little way to know.¡±

    Again, she paused, then smiled slightly as she set her now empty cup down.

    ¡°Still, the children of angels reflect their parents.  Once we have awakened your power its nature and form will let narrow things down somewhat if your curiosity is still burning by then.¡±

    Honestly, I didn¡¯t know how to feel about that.  I actually had a chance to learn who my blood parents had been, to know where I came from and why I had been abandoned.  Old insecurities, old wants, old anger, things I thought I¡¯d laid to rest and buried.  Damn it, why did things have to be so complicated?

    ¡°All right, how do we go about this whole ¡®wake up my divinity¡¯ thing?  You said you needed time to set things up, is it a ritual of some sort?¡±

    ¡°In a way, yes,¡± she said, ¡°Your divinity could be unlocked by various routes.  However, He imparted the knowledge of how your dormant powers might be Awakened safely.¡±

    Her hand reached towards the armour at her back and fiddled for a moment, then she carefully pulled out three small white feathers.  Well, calling them white didn¡¯t really do them justice.  The words ¡®pristine¡¯ or ¡®immaculate¡¯ might have been more in the correct line of meaning, but remained inadequate.  Each one was a perfect paleness that seemed to be utterly unmarred by any hint of another colour.  In addition, the feathers themselves were beautiful, each just under a foot long and utterly flawless in their form.  One would not believe that they had just been pulled from some bag or satchel; instead, they appeared as though they had only just fallen from the wing they had belonged to.

    ¡°These are feathers given for this task by Bath Kol herself.  Thanks to the bloodline that you share with her the power in these should be enough to kindle your own into full strength.  It will require a ritual though, one that calls upon certain pagan forces.¡±

    Her face grew somewhat disgruntled at that, which actually looked rather funny on her.

    ¡°Calling upon the powers of certain earthborn divinities will allow us to slowly drain the feathers and use their power to release your own.  It will not be a swift process though, and we will need to be in a more secure location before we can begin.¡±

    She scooped up the feathers and returned them to where she had taken them from, causing me to feel a slight pang of loss as they disappeared. She then took a look around the room again. This time I noticed her eyes focusing on the walls and windows, a measuring look to her.

    ¡°This domicile is unsafe; it would be unwise to stay here any longer than needed.  Pack what clothing and belongings you¡¯ll need for a week or so, maybe longer.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?!  Why?  Where¡¯re we going?  No, wait, hang on a second!  What do you mean this place is unsafe?¡±

    She looked at me as though I had just asked a particularly stupid question and she was trying to think of a polite way to let me know that.

    ¡°Adam, I said that this ritual is to Awaken your power, and it will take time to perform.  When I said that there were those seeking you out that had ill intentions for you, I did not mean it as some future issue we will face.  I meant that right now, at this very minute, there are powerful players that are trying to find you with every resource at their disposal.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t that I¡¯d forgotten what she¡¯d said about having to protect me, but in the rush of information about me being a Nephilim, Bath Kol being my ancestor and how my power was going to be woken up it hadn¡¯t clicked.  Demons, gods, they were coming after me.  ME!

    I¡¯d seen what those kinds of divinities could do.  Gods, regardless of how weak they were, could do enormous levels of damage, potentially set off riots or burn down whole cities.  Demons, on the other hand, were even more terrifying.  They were far more vicious and malicious than the gods.  Most of the time they seemed more concerned with fighting whatever angel they were facing at the time, rather than the mortals around them, but when they did turn their attention upon them it was never a good thing.

    ¡°But . . . why?  I mean, there are other demigods in the world, why come after me?¡±

    She gave me that look again, this time with a touch of . . . disappointment, maybe.

    ¡°The Lord God has placed importance upon your existence, I have been returned to the mortal world to aid you, and one of the highest caste of angels has donated her feathers to awaken your power.  You can¡¯t think this is all for just any demigod, do you?¡±

    Well, when you put it like that . . .

    ¡°Adam, I do not claim to know what is planned for you, or for me, but I do know that these steps would not be taken without good reason.  I don¡¯t know how these others know of you, only that they do, and they intend to do something about it.  I have been charged with protecting and aiding you, and I do not think that I can do it here.¡±

    She gestured around the house which, I will admit, was not a bastion of security.  I mean, it was just a house, it wasn¡¯t meant to be a fortress again the onslaughts of the hostile forces of divinity, it was meant to keep the rain off, to keep the cold out, not lightning bolts or fireballs.

    ¡°So,¡± I asked, not entirely sure if I wanted to know the answer. ¡°Where do you think we should go?¡±

    Joan smiled at that, standing from the armchair.

    ¡°Le bon Dieu did not simply drop me back into the mortal world with nothing but my armour and sword.  Nor was I sent here just a few minutes ago.  I have been back for the better part of a month, and I have been able to make some preparations.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I have to confess that her confidence was once again infectious.  I could feel my anxiety lowering in the face of that certainty. ¡°So where are we going?  Where did you set up?¡±

    ¡°France, of course.   I was able to renovate a somewhat isolated old farmhouse into a passable fortress.¡±  She paused for a moment, letting light play across her fingers, then smiled. ¡°The divine gifts I received from the Lord made renovating it far easier than you would expect.¡±

    ¡°France?¡±

    Did we really have to leave the country?

    ¡°Indeed,¡± she confirmed. ¡°The new domicile is out in the countryside and away from the more populous areas.  We should be undisturbed there, sufficiently so that we can conduct the ritual without interference.¡±

    Right, a hot girl has appeared on my doorstep and is now asking me to run off with her to a secluded spot in France where it¡¯ll be just the two of us together.  Why was it that the description of the scenario sounded so much more appealing than it actually was?  Curse you, real life!  Why must you crush my dreams like this?!

    I dismissed thoughts of romantic getaways and tried to focus on the more important here and now.  I wasn¡¯t going to protest this relocation, that was a given.  Sure, this was coming out of nowhere, but compared to learning that I might be hunted down, it wasn¡¯t too much of a shock.

    ¡°Look, I get that this is important, but can¡¯t I have a day or so to sort stuff out?  I can¡¯t just disappear!¡±

    Even as I said it, I realized how . . . mundane it sounded.  I was unhappy that I had to leave my nice normal home, my normal life, and my normal friends.

    In legend the lives of the demigods were exciting, violent, and, above all, brief.  The children of the divinities did possess powers that most mortals could only dream of, but those very powers came with many strings attached.  They were pulled into the contests and conflicts of their divine progenitor, they were naturally drawn to events of importance, monsters were naturally drawn to them, the list just went on.  Suddenly, my life seemed rather appealingly normal.

    ¡°Adam,¡± I had expected Joan to be irritated by my query, but instead she sounded understanding. ¡°I know that I am asking a lot, but I would not do it if it was not needful.  Nephilim are powerful, and you are going to be very strong.  More than that, notre Seigneur has placed importance upon you, so that makes you all the more significant.  When the Paths of Divinity opened again all of the old powers saw the chance to do everything from escaping their boredom to once more ruling empires.  The demons regained access to earth while the angels could once more battle them in the flesh.  You represent a potentially major factor in this, one that can push things in any number of directions, and that makes you very valuable.

    ¡°If you stay here, things will not go well.  Even with the protection that Arthur offers this land, there are still a number of minor incursions every few days, gods or demons who invade in raids.  I believe you were in the area when Abriel and Bellbarath battled near here a few weeks ago.  That sort of thing happens.  It is only the major incursions that attract the King of your nation.  Do you truly think it would be very difficult to infiltrate the country if the divinity in question was willing to conceal themselves?¡±

    No, no I did not.  The reason that most gods were easy to track was that by their very nature they were about as subtle as a heavy metal concert.  Stealth just wasn¡¯t their nature, not unless they tried very, very hard. Sure, sometimes you had those that concealed themselves, but even they tended to drop their facades as soon as they had half a chance to dramatically reveal themselves

    Just how hard would they be willing to try to get me?  I still didn¡¯t quite get this whole thing about ¡®God¡¯, seeing me as important.  But I did get how it would make me a target.  And not just for gods either, demons were probably even more of a threat to me.  Gods might be more powerful in general than the demons were, but the demons had two advantages the gods generally lacked, namely stealth and numbers.  The forces of Hell were accustomed to moving silently, to not letting themselves be seen, to sticking to the shadows.  If it was kidnap or assassination I had to worry about, then it was far more likely that the demons would pull it off than the gods.

    ¡°Okay, I get that it needs to be done, but does it have to be now?  Can¡¯t I get a bit of time to get things ready?¡±

    Joan shook her head, and there was a moment when a look of guilt flashed across her face.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Adam, that¡¯s not really an option, not now.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Again, that look of guilt, but even so she met my eyes unflinchingly.

    ¡°My presence is harder to track than that of an angel, but there are ways to do it.  Those that will want to find you will know how to follow me, and it won¡¯t take them long.  We have only a matter of hours before they can use me to find you.  I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Her words hit me, and almost immediately I felt anger and betrayal welling up.

    ¡°So, the only reason that I¡¯m in danger is because you¡¯ve led them to me?!¡±

    It was half a question and half an accusation.  I thought I could see a trace of hurt in the resurrected soul¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°No, they would have found you in time, that is for certain.  It might have taken as long as a year, or they might have been able to locate you in a matter of days, but there is no question that they would have found you.  Your divinity is strong, and it grows within you every day.  Adam, that kind of power is not meant to be contained forever.  Even if I had never come here it would have forced itself to awaken in time.  However, as it grows closer to doing so your power is . . . leaking out, making it easier for those with the correct powers or skills to find you.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then leaned forward, her face a picture of sincerity.

    ¡°I knew that coming here would precipitate matters, but it was the only thing I could do.  By coming here, I can take you somewhere safer, somewhere we can see to awakening your divinity safely so that you at least have some power to protect yourself.  This is surely the better option to just leaving you on your own until another with less benign intentions found you.  Would you have believed any of this had we not met face to face?  If I had just written you a message and had someone else deliver it?  I thought to come here to prove my sincerity, but in the end, you needed to see my divine gifts before you would trust in my words.¡±

    She was right, though it pained me to admit it.  I couldn¡¯t think of another way that would have gotten me to trust her in regard to this.

    ¡°Okay, what will I need?¡±

    ¡°The residence I have prepared is well stocked with food and drink,¡± Joan assured me, standing up herself. ¡°However, there is little in the way of the more modern amenities aside from the essentials.  There is power from a generator, and there is plumbing, but there is nothing in the way of internet connections, nor even an aerial for a television.  Aside from clothing, I¡¯d recommend bringing something to read.¡±

    Ah, so not quite roughing it, but I would be cut off from the great sea of all human knowledge for a while.  Well, it wouldn¡¯t be any stranger than camping or something like that, at least not that part of it.  Still . . .

    ¡°Will we be out of reception?  I mean, if I drop off the grid completely, I¡¯d think that my friends and family would get more than a bit concerned.¡±

    ¡°Then leave them a message,¡± She didn¡¯t sound irritated, but there was a definite urgency to her tone now.  ¡°Though I suggest not letting them know the full details, doing so might well put them in danger.  Perhaps some of the truth?¡±

    Yes, that could work.  I was going to try to call them before I started writing though.

    ¡°Thanks, I think I can do something with that.  Okay, let me go get packed.¡±

    I paused for a moment, then looked back to Joan.

    ¡°How are we going to get to where we want?  Do you have plane tickets or something?  What¡¯s my carry-on limit?¡±

    Even as I asked the questions my mind was distracted by another question, namely how Joan was going to get on board a plane while wearing armour.

    ¡°I have other options at my disposal; rest assured there will be little difficulty in getting you and your luggage where we are going.¡±

    The smile on her face was pleasant, but there was a quality to it that I couldn¡¯t get, maybe . . . amusement?  Well, whatever it was I could worry about it later.  I turned and headed up to my room, already mentally planning what I could take.

 Chapter 5: Scramble: Part One

    Chapter 5: Scramble.

    Joan of Arc watched as the young man that was now her charge left the room.  She then sat back down in the armchair and stared down at the empty cup of tea before her.

    So, that was the child of Heaven that the Lord God had charged her to teach and protect.  She had been expecting . . . well, if she was completely honest, she had been expecting something along the lines of a living saint.  The one she was meant to aid was born of the bloodline of Bath Kol, the Daughter of the Voice.  He was meant to be a beacon in the coming chaos, a leader to show the way through the crises that were to come, a warrior and peace bringer both.

    She had imagined him as wise, devout, charismatic, someone to draw multitudes to his banner.  She had imagined him as a modern apostle, the child of an angel placed upon earth to act as Shepard to the flock of God, to guide them and to protect them.  She thought that he would be young, that he would need her to act as his guardian, to protect him from the dark forces of the world that would seek to drag him down, but that she would also learn from him, that she would be as much a student as a protector.

    Instead, she had found Adam West, and she was unsure of how she felt.  He was not like anything she¡¯d expected.  He didn¡¯t seem unsuitable, he just seemed . . . unremarkable.

    Well, it was hardly her place to judge. She had been placed upon this task by the Almighty himself; it was not her place to question it.  If he had chosen Adam to be his next champion, then there had to be a reason.  Perhaps a saint was not what was needed at this time, though the thought didn¡¯t sit well with her.  Perhaps an ordinary man was what was needed.  She just didn¡¯t know.  Though she had been returned to this mortal plane of life, though she had been furnished with the knowledge of how the world had changed during her time in Heaven, she felt uncomfortably out of place.

    So much had changed, so much was different.  When she had last walked the world swords and armour had been the most common weapons. Things like cannons had still been rare and expensive.  Now, people could carry small portable cannons around with ease, and swords and armour were consigned to the pages of history books and stories.  In her day France and England had been bitter enemies.  Now, they were trading partners, the greatest hostility between them seeming to be over such things as sports competitions or fashion events.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    With a shake of her head, she dismissed such thoughts.  She was here by the very grace of God!  How could she not have a place in this world?  Her memories of her time in Heaven might be obscured, but she remembered her training, days, years, centuries spent being educated in the arts of war by the very angels that had defended the gates of Heaven from the foes of God.  No longer was she merely the girl that had carried the banner of her army into battle, now she was a mistress of virtually every weapon she could think of.  She was ready for this, ready to protect Adam from any of the threats that might come his way; her faith in her course would remain absolute.

    Clasping her hands, she inclined her head in silent prayer as she once again thanked the Lord for finding her worthy of this duty and for giving her a second chance at life.  She would follow his words; she would again act in his name and do her duty by her Creator.  She made that oath to Him once more, swore it by all the Saints she could name, by each of the Apostles, and by the name of His son.

    As she performed her prayer, she felt the power within her respond to her faith.  She could feel the small portion of Heaven¡¯s light that she carried within her surge in response to her resolve.  She revelled in the feeling but reminded herself that this was not her power, this was not her right.  It was a gift that had been given to her so that she might serve here in the mortal realm once more.  She must not allow pride or greed to creep into her heart in regard to the power within her.

    Unclasping her hands, she raised her head and looked around the room once more.  This was a home, but as she had said to her host; it was no fortress.  She took no pleasure in dragging her charge from what he knew, but this was not a place she could defend him in.  The walls were little more than bricks wood and plaster, little more.  The windows were large, bright and very vulnerable.  It would be far too easy to either set the house ablaze or simply flatten it.  No, having him come to her new abode to train and prepare for his awakening was the most sensible option.

    That it meant she could leave this country and return to France was merely a fortunate coincidence.

    Really.

 Chapter 5: Scramble: Part Two

    Packing in a hurry is a surprisingly easy task, at least when you have a fairly simple wardrobe anyway.

    T-Shirts, jeans, shorts, sweatshirts, underwear, sock, lots of socks, trainers, and a pair of hiking boots.  There, that was the basics, now all I needed were the additional bits.  Let¡¯s see, a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, soap, shampoo, razor, deodorant, shaving cream, a towel.  That dealt with the necessary toiletries.  What else was I going to need?

    She¡¯d said we were going to the countryside, and, for the most part, France was always hotter than England at this time of the year, and even as wet and cold as Britain could be, this July was already quite a scorcher.  More than one childhood holiday had been ruined by sunburn, so . . .

    Alright, so I would need a cap, lots of sunblock, my water bottle, anything else?

    A passport was a given, and I had a couple of books that I¡¯d been saving for a rainy day.  For a moment I contemplated my laptop, but recalled what she said about us not being connected to the internet and dismissed it.  Maybe a notebook and a few pens and pencils would be useful, and a packet of aspirin too.  It was better to have some painkillers and not need them.  I also threw in a couple of smart shirts and a pair of shoes, just in case.

    Anything else?  Was I forgetting anything?

    Well, there was some stuff that I wanted but didn¡¯t have, French money for example.  Granted, my cards would work over in France if needs be, but having cash on hand is always a good idea.  No, aside from stuff like that I was pretty much set.  I glanced down at my watch, the whole thing only took me about twenty minutes.  Impressive, just one bag and a small suitcase.

    Joan had said to leave a note, but there was no way that I was going to just leave something written down and disappear.  Chris and Doug would definitely find it strange, and I was sure they¡¯d get in touch with my parents, maybe even the police, regardless of what I wrote.

    As for my parents . . .  There was absolutely no way I was just going to up and disappear on them.  There was a flat zero possibility of them taking it lying down, more likely they¡¯d be up in arms.  I could see them hounding the cops to try and find me, hiring a private investigator, maybe even going so far as to seek out some sort of supernatural aid in this new world order to track me down.

    Grabbing my mobile, I tapped home.  I knew that they¡¯d probably be in, they both arranged their schedules to leave the weekends free, and it had been that way for years.  It was early afternoon, so Dad was probably working in the garage on whatever his latest project was, and Mum would be painting.

    The phone only rang a couple of times before it was picked up.

    ¡°Hello, Adam?¡±

    Amanda¡¯s voice was easily recognizable, and I felt a relieved smile touch my mouth.

    ¡°Hi, Mum, I . . . listen, I need you to get Dad, this is important!  I need to speak to you both!¡±

    ¡°Adam, is everything alright?¡±

    The concern in her voice was easy to hear.  With everything that had been going on, we were all a bit on edge.

    ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t know, maybe?  Look, get Dad, I¡¯m kind of on a clock here, I don¡¯t know how much time I¡¯ve got.¡±

    She didn¡¯t ask any more questions, instead, I could hear her taking the phone through the house, the sound of a door opening, and then the sound of machines working wood.  I heard Amanda¡¯s voice calling dad, then the machines cut off and I could hear them both.

    ¡°Alright Adam, I¡¯ve got you on loudspeaker so we can both hear you.  Now, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    I paused for a moment, trying to get things straight in my head so that I could explain it clearly and concisely, but all that I could manage was:

    ¡°I¡¯ve . . . got Joan of Arc downstairs in my living room.  She says I¡¯m a demigod, and I¡¯ve got to go with her because people are hunting me!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Adam, are you safe?  You¡¯re not being threatened or anything, are you?!¡±

    The explosive first question came from Amanda, but the concern for my well-being was Anthony¡¯s immediate response.  I supposed it made sense since on top of his enthusiastic fitness regimen my Dad also volunteered at a local homeless shelter.  He¡¯d seen some pretty nasty things, fights, assaults, even some suicide attempts in his time there.  He was a bit more familiar with violence than your average schoolteacher.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, she¡¯s fine, we¡¯re fine!¡± I stumbled over my words, trying to reassure them. ¡°I . . . look, she says that I¡¯m a Legacy of Bath Kol, one of the big angels, and that I need to come with her.¡±

    There was a pause, then Mum asked the question that I¡¯d known would be coming.

    ¡°Do you think she¡¯s telling the truth?  Could this be a scam?¡±

    That was one of mum¡¯s things, even before the Black Sun.  She¡¯d been conned out of her savings when she was young and had taken it to heart.  When the Black Sun brought out some of the worst kinds of conmen to take advantage of it, Amanda had been determined not to let any of us fall for any of them.

    ¡°Mum, she made a sword out of light and cut a tree down with it!  Then she held the broken ends together and healed it back up.  She¡¯s got armour, real armour, not some prop, and I¡¯m pretty sure that someone her size shouldn¡¯t be able to lift a tree like that.  No way!¡±

    There was a pause as they heard that.

    ¡°Could she still be lying?¡± Amanda sounded unsure, but she was asking the question anyway. ¡°Just because she has powers it doesn¡¯t mean she has to be telling the truth.  Could she be lying to . . . I don¡¯t know, get you alone?  To try to use you somehow?¡±

    The point was a fair one.  If you had supernatural powers and a lack of morals, then you could make a killing in such uncertain times.  Just give a few demonstrations of your power and the gullible would be ready to do anything you said.

    Still, I didn¡¯t think that was the case here.

    ¡°Mum, she¡¯s convincing.  I mean, if she can lie that well and has powers like I saw, then she doesn¡¯t need to be here conning me.  She could be could find way bigger and richer fish to fry!¡±

    I paused for a moment, then waved my hand, even though I knew they couldn¡¯t see it.

    ¡°Plus, she¡¯s got these feathers, she says they¡¯re from an angel, and I believe her.  They¡¯re too . . . too white, too clean, too perfect, you know?  And . . . I feel something from them, y¡¯know?  They make me feel something . . .¡±

    There was another pause, then Anthony spoke.

    ¡°So, she¡¯s saying that you¡¯re a demigod?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, although since I¡¯m descended from an angel, I think that makes me a Nephilim,¡± I replied. ¡°Look . . . Joan says that I¡¯m important.  As in God, the big guy upstairs God, assigned her to keep me safe and help me get stronger.  I . . . I can¡¯t believe I just said that!  Does it sound crazy to you?  Because it sounds crazy to me!  I¡¯ve just said that God sent a soul down from heaven to take care of me, that . . . that¡¯s not something a sane person should be saying, but that¡¯s what this looks like!¡±

    I think that by the end of my short speech I was actually babbling a little, the full absurdity of my situation looming over me like . . . like . . . I wasn¡¯t even able to think of a good metaphor for it, that was how overwhelmed I felt.

    ¡°Adam!  Adam, calm down!  Take a deep breath, alright?  Come on, let me hear it!  A deep breath!¡±

    Amanda¡¯s voice broke through my increasingly panicked thoughts, and almost on instinct, I followed her instruction, inhaling deeply and loudly enough that they could hear it over the phone.

    ¡°Good, now hold it . . . Hold it . . . hold it . . . and let it out!¡±

    I think it must have been working because I could feel my anxiety recede, still there but no longer swamping me, threatening to drown me.

    ¡°Okay, and again Adam!  In . . . out.  In . . . out.¡±

    After a couple more breaths I was back in control, enough to look at the phone that I¡¯d set on my desk.

    ¡°Okay, I . . . I think I¡¯m better.  Sorry, it . . . it just kind of hit me, you know?  That . . . that this is happening!¡±

    ¡°Adam, if you weren¡¯t freaking out then I¡¯d be worried,¡± Dad said. ¡°Look . . . I¡¯ve always wondered what would happen if we found out anything about your birth family.  I mean, I¡¯ve imagined everything from them being crooks to some insanely rich foreigners you were kidnapped from.  I¡¯ve thought that they might try to take you away, that we might have to protect you from them, that you might want to go with them, but I¡¯ll admit, I never thought of this.¡±

    He paused for a moment, then continued.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, you understand?  You can be descended from an angel, a god, a demon, or a celestial turtle for all I care, it doesn¡¯t make any difference, you¡¯re my son, and nothing changes that.¡±

    I . . . I hadn¡¯t even thought of that, not in the rush of everything else.  Still, even though it hadn¡¯t crossed my mind I couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of relief at his words.  The thought that being a demigod would repulse my parents . . . that they might turn me away . . . it was the sort of thing I¡¯d had nightmares about when I¡¯d been a child.  That they¡¯d suddenly decide I wasn¡¯t good enough, that they¡¯d somehow have a child of their own and decide I wasn¡¯t needed, that they¡¯d go to the orphanage and find a better child one that would take my place.  In the light of day, such thoughts seemed foolish, but in the night, alone in my bed, those thoughts had been able to make me shiver and sweat.

    ¡°So . . . what does she want to do?¡±

    His question brought me back to the matter at hand.

    ¡°She says we¡¯ve got to go somewhere more protected,¡± I explained. ¡°She wants to take me to go somewhere that she¡¯s got ready for this.  Then there¡¯s going to be some ritual to help get my . . . my divine blood going, get me my powers so I can defend myself.  After that . . . well, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°So, she couldn¡¯t give you a straight answer about how long this would be?¡± Amanda asked.

    I blinked at that, replaying the conversation that we¡¯d had in my head.

    ¡°No . . . no she didn¡¯t,¡± I admitted. ¡°She mentioned getting somewhere secure, and the ritual taking a couple of weeks to set up so I can get my powers, but after that . . .¡±

    ¡°So . . . it could be weeks or even months for all we know?¡± Dad commented.

    Silence hung in the air after that, an unwelcome addition to the conversation as we each tried to think of something else to say.

    ¡°Do you really need to leave?  Isn¡¯t there somewhere closer that you could do this?¡±

    I shook my head at Amanda¡¯s question, even though I knew she couldn¡¯t see it.

    ¡°No.  Joan says there are gods and demons looking for me.  They could find me like she did.  If I stay here then she¡¯ll try to protect me, but they¡¯ll fight.  Hell, maybe they¡¯ll fight each other, and if they do, then things are going to be way worse than that thing that happened with the angel and demon fighting!¡±

    That incident . . . it had been bad, but nowhere near as bad as it could have been.  The two supernaturals had been fighting up in the air, away from the buildings and people, so most of the damage had been caused either by the shockwaves of their clash, like the ones that had hurt me, or by people getting so caught up in the sight of them that they did something by accident, as was the case with some drivers.  There¡¯d been some crashes, some people injured, but thankfully no deaths, at least not at the time.  I remembered what that hooded girl had told me about people dying later, but there hadn¡¯t been any mention of it in papers or the news, so I hoped that no one had suffered from that.

    I was no expert on angels and demons. But what I did know told me that those two had been far from being heavy hitters.  I didn¡¯t want to see what would happen if stronger beings, like gods of war or demonic nobility, decided to come looking for me.  I liked my neighbourhood, and I especially liked it when it wasn¡¯t on fire, or simply a blasted wasteland.

    ¡°Do you think she¡¯s right?¡±

    ¡°Mum, I don¡¯t know anything.  Joan¡¯s the one telling me all this.  But . . . I think she¡¯s being sincere.  I mean, if she wanted to make me go with her there¡¯s no way I could stop her, I don¡¯t think.¡±  I paused for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts.  ¡°Look, I wish I had some more time to try and work this out, but she says that we¡¯re on a timer, her finding me makes it easier for the others looking for me to find us.  I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m going to take a leap of faith here, because . . . I can¡¯t see any reason she could be lying!¡±

    Actually, that wasn¡¯t strictly true.  I could think of several reasons why she could be making things up.  I knew that free will was a big deal in the supernatural world, and there were lots of things you couldn¡¯t do to someone by force.  That was why demons made deals because they needed mortals to give up their souls willingly, freely, that was the only way to subvert the protection on them.

    Could that be what was going on?  Was the ritual to get me my supposed powers just a way for me to sign my soul away?  Maybe?

    Honestly, I didn¡¯t think that I had to worry about Joan trying to pull that kind of trick on me.  There was just something about her, about the way she spoke of God with such absolute faith and certainty, that I couldn¡¯t conceive of being less than completely honest.

    Regardless, I wasn¡¯t going to tell them that.  I hardly wanted to burden them with more worries than I was already laying at their feet.

    ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I don¡¯t really think there¡¯s any other choice, right?  If I stay here . . . if she¡¯s right, then people are going to get hurt.  If I go with her then at least I¡¯ll be able to find out one way or another if she¡¯s telling the truth.  And if she¡¯s lying . . . I don¡¯t know, I¡¯ll try to get away I guess.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure about this, Adam?¡±

    Dad sounded unusually, but understandably, serious.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I . . . look, I¡¯m really out of my depth here, but I think I can trust Joan.  I mean, she¡¯s got lots of stuff on her side that seems to be legit.  Magic powers, the feathers of an angel, devotion to god, and if she¡¯s faking all of that then . . . I¡¯d better give up because she¡¯s just too good for me to beat.¡±

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    That last bit was said more in humour than anything else, but there was a bit of truth to it.  if this really was a con then it was clearly too clever for me.

    ¡°. . . Is she pretty?¡±

    Mum¡¯s question brought my thoughts to a screeching halt.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°This girl, Joan, is she pretty?¡±

    ¡°I . . . yes?¡±

    ¡°Ah, well that might explain some of it.¡±

    It was at that point that I discovered for certain that it was indeed possible for someone to convey a smug smile over the phone.

    ¡°Mum!¡±

    This was something of a running thing between me and Mum, namely my general lack of ability to say ¡®no¡¯ to a pretty face.

    I don¡¯t know why, but the fact that she was able to bring this up now, despite the severity of the situation, was comforting.

    ¡°Oh, let your mother dream, Adam.¡±

    The humour in Anthony¡¯s voice was easy enough to hear, and it caused the small smile on my face to spread a bit further.  More than that though, it was a sort of unspoken message that they were alright with me going with Joan.  Well, maybe they weren¡¯t quite ¡®alright¡¯, but they were offering me their support.

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know how long this will be, but I¡¯ll try and send you guys a message as soon as I can, let you know what¡¯s happening, okay?¡±

    ¡°Adam,¡± Mum¡¯s voice was firmer now, more serious, but still as kind as ever. ¡°I won¡¯t lie and say I¡¯m not worried, but I trust you.  You¡¯ve always had a good head on your shoulders.  If . . . if you think that this is the right course to take, then you should take it.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Dad chimed in. ¡°But just to be on the safe side, do you still have those knuckles I got you?¡±

    That almost made me burst out laughing.  The knuckles he was referring to were a set of brass knuckledusters that he¡¯d given me on my nineteenth birthday as something of a joke gift.  I¡¯d only ever used them one time, and not very successfully.

    The idea of using them on Joan though . . . it was farcical.  I was more likely to break my hand than I was to do her any harm.

    ¡°Okay Dad, I¡¯ll take them with me.¡±

    I assured him, as I reached over to open a drawer and pulled them out.  Sure, I didn¡¯t expect them to be of any use, but they made for a decent lucky charm, and something told me that luck was something that I was going to need plenty of soon enough.

    Glancing down at my watch I was surprised at how much time had passed.  Joan hadn¡¯t given me a limit on my time, but she¡¯d implied that the less taken the better it would be.

    ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve got to go!¡± I hated having to cut things short, but I still had to try and reach my housemates. ¡°I¡¯m on a clock here, and I¡¯ve still got the get in touch with Chris and Doug.  I . . . I¡¯ll try and get back to you guys as soon as I can, but I don¡¯t know how long that¡¯ll be!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Adam,¡± Amanda assured me. ¡°You go where you need to, you do what you need to.  Just promise to keep yourself as safe as you can so we can see you again!¡±

    ¡°I love you, Mum.¡±

    I said it without really thinking about it, words straight from the heart.

    ¡°Hey, what about me?¡±

    A small chuckle escaped my lips before I could answer Anthony¡¯s joking question.

    ¡°Well, I guess I can put up with you too.¡±

    There was an answering chuckle from the other end of the phone, a warm sound that I was familiar with.

    ¡°I love you, son, we both do.¡±

    ¡°I love you too.¡±

    For a moment that was it, there wasn¡¯t really any more to say.  Then I had to end the call.

    ¡°Goodbye.  I¡¯ll get back to you as soon as I can.¡±

    ¡°Goodbye.¡± That was Amanda.

    ¡°Goodbye.¡± And that was Anthony.

    ¡°Goodbye!¡±

    Realizing I was repeating myself I pressed the end call button, even though I didn¡¯t really want it to end.

    Right, I still had to let my housemates know what was going on.  Sure, as things stood, they¡¯d be able to get the heads up from my family, but it had to be something more personal.

    I first tried to ring Chris, only to hear his phone ringing in his room where he must have left it behind.  Given how much he loved it I guessed it had been an accident.  If Chris was so eager to meet this girl that he forgot to take his cell phone with him then maybe she was going to be the one to finally stick around.  One could only hope, too bad I wouldn¡¯t be around to find out.

    Failing to get hold of Chris I tried my luck with Doug next.  This time when the phone rang, I couldn¡¯t hear it in the house, so that was a plus.  Unfortunately, the thing kept on ringing without an answer, and eventually, I heard a click, followed by Doug¡¯s pre-recorded message.

    Rather than speak I hung up.  It just didn¡¯t seem right to tell them about it in a message.  This was too important, so just leaving a message . . . no, not an option.

    Sitting down at my desk I grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write on it.  Something like this, something written by my hand, in my handwriting, would be more personal, more distinctive.

    Dear Chris and Doug,

    First off, I¡¯m sorry that I have to tell you guys like this, I tried to phone you, but I couldn¡¯t get through and leaving a message felt wrong, so I figured writing here was my next best option.  I¡¯m having to leave at very short notice, so I don¡¯t have too much time to work with, but I thought you should know the reasons why . . .

    It was a decent start, and I was soon on a roll.

    The letter itself took longer to write than getting packed did, though I suppose that wasn¡¯t really saying much.  It was a bit rushed, but I thought that I managed to get down all the important details.  I explained what had happened, that my parents had more details, and I was very clear that I was most certainly NOT being duped.  I¡¯d seen her create a sword of light, I¡¯d seen her cut down the tree, and I¡¯d seen her put it back together afterwards.  This was no trick.

    I also wrote that they had to keep quiet about this.  My leaving didn¡¯t do anything to keep them safe if they started shouting to the world about their housemate being a demigod and leaving with Joan of Arc.

    Taking a deep breath, I finished the letter.  I just had to roll with the punches and deal with what came.

    . . . worry, I will get through this, and I will be back.  Until then stay safe, you got me?

    Wish me luck, Adam.

    Signing the letter, I folded it in two, then put Chris and Doug¡¯s names on the outside.  I hoped that it would be enough to reassure them, they were a surprisingly reliable pair of friends to have.  Normally that was a good thing, but in this case, trying to help or find me could end badly.  At best they¡¯d be wasting energy, at worst they might manage to somehow track me down, only to be dragged into whatever mess I was in, and without the prospect of getting superpowers out of it.

    I left the letter propped up on the little table at the top of the stairs, where we often charged our phones.  They¡¯d see it there, of that, I was completely certain.

    Stepping back into my room I took a final look around.  I suddenly felt my stomach clench, aware of so many little things I was going to miss.  That stack of DVDs that I¡¯d accumulated over the last year, but had never gotten around to watching.  The small cactus Chris had given me as a housewarming gift.  The little Egyptian statue my grandfather had bought me as a present.  So many little things, I was suddenly unsure if I was ever going to get the chance to see them again.

    No!  I couldn¡¯t let myself start to think like that.  I had very little idea of what was going on, and I had even less of an idea as to what was going to happen after my so-called ¡®divinity¡¯ got woken up, but I couldn¡¯t let that drag me down.  I had to keep moving, standing still is rarely the best thing you can do.

    . . . Except when you¡¯re facing a T-Rex, at least according to Hollywood, but that wasn¡¯t important.

    Dismissing my rambling thoughts, I made my way downstairs.

    ¡°I would have thought that you would have wished to bring more than that.  I did say that it might be days or weeks before you could return, did I not?¡± Joan commented as she met me at the bottom of the stairs.

    ¡°I¡¯m not too much into having loads of clothes,¡± I explained, ¡°This¡¯ll be more than enough to last me a couple of weeks, and if you¡¯ve got a washing machine then there¡¯ll be no problems.¡±

    Her head tilted slightly, and a mildly concerned look crossed her face.

    ¡°I made sure to have soap and such amenities as hot running water and plumbing ready, but I confess that the notion of a washing machine never crossed my mind.  There is a washing board and a large metal tub, so with the hot water it should be no issue to wash your clothes.¡±

    You know, that was almost as convincing as the sword of light had been in making me sure that I really was dealing with Joan of Arc here.  Until she¡¯d said that the thought of washing my clothes any other way than in a washing machine had never even crossed my mind.  How did a washing board even work?  It sounded like I was going to find out at some point though.  That was going to be ¡®fun¡¯.

    ¡°You have left the note that you spoke of?¡±

    I just nodded in reply, and Joan flashed me a kindly smile.

    ¡°I am sorry you have to do this, but I promise that it is necessary.  Not only is it to keep you safe, but it will also keep those that share this home with you safe.  If those that sought you had found you here, they would most likely have been uncaring of what others might have been trampled on their way to you.¡±

    I nodded.  Yes, that was part of the reason I was going, to make sure they would be safe.  After all, if I ended up leading demons to their doorstep Neither Chris nor Doug would ever let me hear the end of it.  With me gone then those looking for me . . .

    . . . Would come here anyway.  After all, they were tracking Joan, so then they¡¯d come here as they followed whatever trail they left.

    ¡°Won¡¯t they come here anyway?!¡± The question almost burst out of me. ¡°They¡¯ll follow you¡¯re trail, and then they¡¯ll come here.  My friends will be in danger anyway, won¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I have a plan for that.¡±

    Her confidence was clear, and it eased some of my concerns.  Not all of them though, and that was starting to wear on me.

    The worst part of all this was the almost total lack of control I seemed to have over just about anything.  I wasn¡¯t making any real decisions in this; rather I was just being swept along.  Sure, I had chosen to go with Joan, I had chosen to believe her, and I had chosen to get packed and ready, but really that wasn¡¯t so much a choice as it was just falling in line.  I . . . I simply couldn¡¯t make any impact on the flow of events, not yet.  It was an unpleasant truth, but one that I had to face.

    Taking a deep breath, I grabbed up the suitcase again and met Joan¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m good to go.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± she nodded in response, opening the main door and stepping out of the house. ¡°If you will join me over there, we can get going.¡±

    To my confusion, she pointed to the road just in front of my home.  As far as I could see the only distinctive quality that it possessed was that it was a very open area.  It was fairly quiet, especially at that time of the day.  Unsure of what else to do, I stood in the spot indicated and waited.

    ¡°Alors, it is time to go.¡±

    Joan said it as she looked up and down the road, following her glance, I saw there was no one about   I wondered what she was going to do that she didn¡¯t want other people to s-

    I was cut off in mid-thought as Joan clasped her hands together, the fingers interlacing as though in prayer, and her shoulders tensed visibly, even through the armour she wore.  What came next left me gsping in shock.

    Great white wings burst out of her back in an explosion of feathers that momentarily made it seem as though snow was falling about us.  More than that was the change that came over Joan as the beautifully alabaster pinions flexed behind her.  She became . . . more, that was the only word I could think of.  Everything about her seemed to be magnified, enhanced.  She was taller, broader, more imposing, her very presence was stronger.  More than that though, her very appearance took my breath away, and for a moment I felt my knees weaken as I looked at her.

    Joan had seemed very pretty, beautiful even, but it was the kind of beauty that I saw in fashion magazines, or on television adverts.  Now . . . now I had no words for it.  Her hair was still short, her face was still strong, her eyes were the same colour, but she was so lovely I could feel my heart beginning to pound in my chest.  I opened my mouth to say something, anything really, but found it to be suddenly dry, my tongue sticking in place, unable to form words.

    As I stood there, no doubt looking like some sort of gawking idiot, she flexed the wings she had just acquired. Seemingly in response to the movement, a bright yellow dot of light appeared above her head.  The dot moved in a small circle there, leaving a trail of light until it returned to where it had begun and merged into the trail it had left. For a moment or two, I just blinked at it stupidly, unable to get my brain to connect the image with any concept that I knew of.  Then, as though something finally clicked into place, I realized what it was.

    A halo.

    Joan had wings, and a halo.

    Joan had become an angel.

    Angels were rarer than gods, but they were an accepted part of the world now.  I¡¯d watched the few videos on the internet that caught them, and then there was the infamous ¡®Interview with an Angel¡¯ that had become one of the most watched recordings in the world virtually overnight.  The angels were larger than life beings that were generally regarded as benevolent since they fought against the demons.  But they were also regarded with a certain amount of fear due to their considerable power and their intolerance for what they deemed as ¡®evil¡¯.

    Angels were beings of Heaven, soldiers that served the will of God directly.  There was a lot of debate over whether angels were stronger than gods, but ultimately it all came down to which god and which angel was in question.

    And now I had one standing in front of me.

    Suddenly I felt a good deal better about trusting her.  I mean, sure, this wasn¡¯t a one hundred per cent confirmation of all she¡¯d said, but it was a pretty enormous addition in her favour.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    Even her voice was different, clearer, more resonant, yet at the same time lilting and soothing.  It was the kind of voice I would have paid money to listen to, even if it was just reading me a washing machine instruction manual.

    With those thoughts rolling around inside my brain, the best I could manage was a nod that was probably closer to a stunned bobble.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    She smiled at me, and for a moment it was as though the sun was coming out from behind the clouds on a cold day and I was suddenly warm again.  I was so entranced by the sight that I almost missed what happened next.

    Almost.

    Joan made a gesture, and suddenly I was inside a . . . a bubble?  Yes, it was a transparent globe, and I was inside it.  It was easily big enough for me to stand in and spread my arms and not touch the sides.  It was coloured the same vibrant yellow as the halo that had appeared over her head, and the world outside was now tinged yellow.  Glancing down I saw that I was still standing on the tarmac, the underside of the bubble seemingly disappearing underground.  Not quite believing what I was seeing I leant forward and touched the tips of the fingers of my left hand to the surface.

    It felt like I was touching glass, there was no give there at all.  Experimentally I tapped on it, but rather than sounding like a pane of glass it was more like I¡¯d rapped my knuckles against the side of a solid stone cliff.

    I looked out at Joan, ready to ask her why she¡¯d put me in what amounted to a giant upturned fishbowl, but I never got the chance.  She made another gesture, as though she was asking someone that had been sitting to stand, and suddenly the world around me lurched.  I fell over, but it wasn¡¯t due to experiencing any sort of jolt or shake.  As far as I was concerned the ground beneath me had remained rock solid.  It was the sudden shift in the world outside the bubble that had caught me by surprise.

    Regaining my feet, I looked down to see that the concrete I had been standing on was now inside the bubble with me, but outside I could see a large missing chunk of the road.  The spot I¡¯d been standing on was now in the bubble with me.

    I wanted to say something, anything really, but my mouth simply didn¡¯t want to work.  All I could do was gape like some sort of fish as Joan rose into the air, and the globe I was in followed her.  Some small part of me noted that the Maiden of Orleans was not using her wings to lift herself, there was no flapping on their part.  Instead, she simply rose into the air in defiance of gravity, her movements directing the globe I was in to move with her.

    It was at about that point that my somewhat beleaguered brain finally managed to connect some dots.  Fact one; Joan said we were going to France.  Fact two; I was currently inside a bubble that was levitating into the air.  Fact three; Joan was flying next to it.  When you added these various titbits together what you got was . . .

    My realization came at about the same time that Joan turned away from me and looked off in a direction which I must assume was southeast.  I just had enough time to open my mouth, but even if I had managed to regain my voice it would have been too late by then.

    Both Joan and the bubble I was in, shot off into the sky like a rocket taking off.  So fast that I fell to my knees and stared over the edge and down at the ground that was falling away at an unbelievable rate.  I could feel my blood thundering in my ears and my heart pounding in my chest.  The world seemed to swim before my eyes as I rose higher and higher, darkening at the edges.

    I think at his point I should share a rather important fact, namely that I¡¯m deathly afraid of heights.

    I¡¯m not so bad with relatively small heights, say four or five stories.  I can be in a tall building and be fine if I¡¯m on the roof and looking down.  It¡¯s when getting to greater heights, like cliffs, skyscrapers, and planes, that things get dicey.  As soon as I look down from those sorts of heights, I can feel my rationality begin to crumble apart.  In the past I¡¯ve suffered hyperventilation, panic attacks, totally locking up, and just flat out passing out.

    I¡¯d managed to figure out some tricks to get around this, I had to if I wanted to go on my trips abroad.  Cruises are nice, but slow and expensive.  If I wanted to get to places like America, Japan or Australia then flight was really the only way to go.  It had taken a bit of experimentation, nerve-wracking experimentation, but I¡¯d been able to work some stuff out.  For example, I didn¡¯t really have too much of a problem actually riding in a plane, not so long as I couldn¡¯t see out of a window enough to see the ground.  If I was in one of those big jumbo jets then I could sit in a seat in the middle and pretend that rather than flying kilometres up in the air I was simply on a large coach or something like that.  It wasn¡¯t comfortable, there were times when I had to start breathing into a paper bag to calm down, but as long as I was careful, I could avoid any serious panic attacks.

    This . . . this was so much worse that I might as well have been strapped to the outside of a jet plane taking off!  Before I knew it I had curled up on the small patch of concrete that was serving as the floor to my bubble and was doing little more than shivering with fear and struggling to regain some sort of control.

    Still, the human mind can only sustain an emotional intensity for so long, and after a while, I felt the horrible fear begin to lessen slightly, at least enough for me to take a look around.

    This might not have been the smartest move, because the first things I saw around me were clouds.  Not the little wispy ones that can come down pretty low; these were the enormous puffy white ones that look like they¡¯re made of castle-sized clumps of cotton wool.  That was when it hit just how high up I was.

    The smart thing to do would have been to just shut my eyes as tight as I could and just sit on the chunk of pavement until I was back on good old terra firma.  However, a manic sort of curiosity drove me to do something that I soon regretted.

    I looked down.

    And down.

    And still further down.

    My mind pretty much stopped working at that point.  I was vaguely aware of the world spinning around me.  All I could do was stare down, down at a world so distant that the houses were tiny dots, roads mere lines on the land.  So far, so far away . . .

    I think it was at about that point that my poor abused grey matter finally decided to simply call it quits.  It had taken shock after shock, been forced to race, then stop, then race again, and now it was being faced with a scenario that until now had only existed in my deepest nightmares.  After all that I guess it just decided that enough was enough.  It didn¡¯t want to have to deal with this anymore.

    Simply put, I passed out.

 Chapter 5: Scramble: Part Three

    She remained in the shadows as she watched the resurrected hero carry him off.

    How should she feel about this?  On the one hand, it was a good thing, that Heaven¡¯s forces were taking steps to protect him.  On the other hand, though, this made her own goals that much more difficult to achieve now that he was under their watchful eye.

    His choice of selecting a resurrected soul as His agent in this matter was something of a surprise though.  She had expected the Almighty to choose an actual angel as His hand in this, given the stakes.  She¡¯d been unsure of which to expect, but she¡¯d thought that at least one of Heaven¡¯s warriors would have been chosen.  A seraph was a possibility, she supposed, but unlikely given how most of them were already engaged in important tasks elsewhere.  This task, this mortal, might be important but they were the Great Weapons of Heaven, the celestial nuclear option, as one inventive mortal had put it.  Though one of them would all but guarantee the safety of the young mixed blood, they were simply too valuable to be able to remain on such an assignment for long.  One of the lesser ranks would have been a more likely candidate.  In fact, she could name at least a dozen such angels that would have been ideal for the task of protecting and teaching him as was needed.

    But instead, He had chosen to return a mortal to life and have her fulfil this duty.

    She really didn¡¯t understand it, but at the same time, she knew that that didn¡¯t mean much.  He was the greatest player in the game that was being played for the fate of the mortal realm.  Despite all the restrictions He was forced to work under He was still the single greatest force in play, and that alone was an eloquent argument as to his skill in the game.  If He had chosen this mortal for this task then there was a reason for it, and she knew better than most that He was rarely wrong.

    Of course, just because she had been chosen for this task it did not mean that the resurrected hero was without flaws.

    With eyes that saw more than mortals could ever imagine she focused upon the trail of power that the armoured young woman had left in her wake.  For most trying to track them, it would have been difficult, but she had been honing her skills for longer than most of the nations in this world had existed.  To her, the remnants of the returned heroine¡¯s presence hung in the air like an ethereal glowing banner.

    She could see the plan that the resurrected soul had, and in all truth, it wasn¡¯t a bad one.  The way her trail went from a gentle stream as it arrived, to a raging torrent as it left, made it very clear that she no longer had any business with the mortal domicile.  For most of her pursuers that would have been enough.  They would have ignored the mortal dwellings around them and would instead have focused upon tracking her suddenly brighter trail.  The problem was that the resurrected soul was relatively new to her position, and as such could not know all the skills that would be employed by those she wished to deceive.

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    There were those that wouldn¡¯t give up so easily.  Her departure might have left a massive burst of power that had saturated the area, but there were ways to look beneath that flood of light, to see the trail she had left behind as she went into the house, then stayed there for a time, only to leave and then release the Heavenly power within her.  It wouldn¡¯t take those with such skills long to realize the implications of such an action.  Then the remaining occupants of the home could at best look forward to some brief torture followed by a swift death.  At worst . . . well, some tortures went beyond the flesh, fates that were worse than death.

    The fate of the other two young men that had shared the house with the one the resurrected soul had just carried off didn¡¯t mean anything to her.  They were mortals after all, but they would mean something to him.  If she wanted her own plans to come to fruition, then what goodwill she could cultivate with him would be invaluable.  Saving his friends would be a decent step in that direction, a card to keep in reserve for later.

    Also, she could not afford for those that pursued him to gain any more information on their quarry.  Though the mortals here knew nothing of his divine nature there was much personal knowledge they could share that might prove dangerous in the hands of a cunning enemy.

    She reached into the folds of her clothing and drew out a long metal rod that was too large to have been hidden under such clothes.  A pulse of her power ran through the metal, and runes that no mortal scholar would have been able to recognize lit up with a soft red light.  She didn¡¯t point it towards the house, such a crude gesture was unnecessary.  Instead, she concentrated and felt the remnants of the Light left by the resurrected soul respond to the power of her artefact.

    Slowly, gently, and with careful deliberateness she drew out all these remnants from the house that had been marked by their presence.  She pulled them back to the road, back to the exact spot where the returned soul had transformed into an angel.  Her eyes narrowed slightly in further concentration as she merged the two.  A few moments later she was finished and took a step backwards to admire her handiwork.

    It now appeared as though the agent of Heaven had been walking down this street, then for whatever reason taken on her angelic aspect and left at high speed.  She was proud of her work, she¡¯d even been able to shift the path of Light slightly so that it now appeared that the resurrected soul had transformed upon that patch of missing pavement, meaning that the lost concrete was the result of her change.  Satisfied that she¡¯d achieved her goal she slipped the rod back under her hoodie and took another look about the street.

    So far nobody seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, though in her case that was mainly due to the extensive wards she¡¯d adorned herself with.  The agent¡¯s transformation and departure had thankfully been swift enough not to draw any great notice, nothing more than people glancing over at their windows and wondering what the flash of light had been.  The missing concrete might garner some attention, but that would be the extent of it, so long as nothing precipitous happened.

    Her shoulders slouching into the slightly hunched posture she had adopted as her normal body language, she turned away.  She¡¯d have to begin making arrangements to follow him and given her scant resources, it wasn¡¯t going to be as easy as she¡¯d like it to be.  Still, she would be able to manage it.  All she needed to do was find where he was going, and she knew that to be well within the scope of her talents.

 Chapter 6: New Dwellings and New Knowledge : Part One

    Chapter 6: New Dwellings and New Knowledge

    ¡°Adam!  Adam, it is time to be up!  You shall catch a chill if you keep sleeping there.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t like waking up.  Instead, this felt like I was having to claw my way out of a darkness that was reluctant to let me go.  The world came back to me, and it wasn¡¯t a world I was familiar with.  Disorientation hit me as I tried to remember where I was, and how I got there.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    My mouth felt all dry and gritty, my left arm was aching while my right one was completely asleep.  Also, the right side of my face felt cold and unresponsive, and as I blearily rubbed at it with my left hand, I realized that some sort of pattern had been imprinted into the flesh of my cheek.

    I sat up, but I still felt more than a bit unsteady.  Everything seemed blurry, and I tried to clear both my mind and my vision by giving my head a shake.

    Bad idea, I realized that almost immediately as the world started to lose cohesion and I started to lose my balance.

    ¡°No!  No, you have to be a bit more careful, Adam.  You have been asleep for most of the way here.  Just take a moment and gather your wits.¡±

    Oh yeah, that was . . . Joan, right?  Yes.  Yes, I could feel things coming back together as I remembered what had happened.  Joan had come to my house, I agreed to go with her, and then . . .

    My vision cleared as I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again.  Yes, there she was, still in her armour and with a slightly concerned look on her face.  Looking down I saw that I was still sitting on the small patch of concrete, but now it wasn¡¯t held in the bubble of light, rather it was resting on grass.  I¡¯d been laying down on it, small wonder that I felt so stiff and sore.

    Ah, things were starting to come together.  I¡¯d passed out.  Just the memory of those heights was enough to make me shudder.

    ¡°See, the cold is already getting to you!  Come on in, and I shall get the fire going.  That should warm you up.  I think I have also got some bread and food ready; it should not take long to get some decent fare ready to eat.¡±

    My sluggish brain finally managed to get all its cylinders firing because that was when I finally worked out what the resurrected heroine was talking about.  She thought that I¡¯d fallen asleep on our trip . . . here.  Where was here anyway?  And how long had I been out?

    A quick glance down at my watch told me that it hadn¡¯t been long; just over half an hour.  Was that really all it had taken?  Joan had said she was taking me somewhere in France, but really?  It had only taken her half an hour?  That meant we¡¯d been going faster than any plane I¡¯d been on!

    Even as that thought ran about in my head, I took a moment to look around.  The chunk of concrete I was sitting on was laying on some grass because I was currently in a field, quite a large field.  Off in the distance, I could see hedges.  Not the small ones that you saw around houses in suburban areas, these were the huge ones that old-style farms used to have.  These were the sorts that were meant to keep out raiders mounted on horseback.  There was also a small wood nearby.  I couldn¡¯t see how big it was, not from this angle.  But if the height and thickness of the trees I could see were anything to go by, then it was an old one.

    Not too far away, I could see a building of some sort, but most of the details were obscured by the hedge that ran alongside it, as well as a couple of trees that grew fairly close to it.  Behind it there was another structure, maybe some sort of barn or storehouse, the first building made it hard to see.

    Aside from that, I couldn¡¯t see any other signs of buildings or houses.  There was a road leading to the farmhouse, but even that was hard to see, the asphalt largely concealed by the long grass that grew alongside it.  In many ways, the sight before me was quite picturesque.

    ¡°Where . . . where are we?¡±

    I asked as I got on to my feet.  For a moment my legs were unsteady, and I began to topple, but Joan was there immediately, supporting me until my limbs steadied.  Once I was recovered, she stepped back and gestured around her.

    ¡°Voil¨¤, I told you that the Lord saw fit to provide me with resources when I first returned to this world.  This was among them.  One of the first acts of His angels when they revealed themselves was to quietly speak to some of those who were both pious and wealthy.  They were instructed to prepare for my own return and to have both resources and assistants ready.  They were able to purchase much of the land about this area, and to provide what I needed to have this dwelling renovated.¡±

    The pride in her voice was clear.  This, the work that she put in, was something that had been important to her, something that she felt good about.

    ¡°Are we on a farm or something?¡±

    ¡°Oui, this used to be a farmstead, but it was abandoned sometime after the Second World War.  It spent decades unused due to inheritance laws, but the matter was eventually settled.  However, since it was in severe disrepair and isolated, the new owners were unable to do anything with it.  After the return of the Divine Paths, it was purchased by the faithful and prepared for us.¡±

    All that sort of creeped me out.  This had been set in motion months ago, right after the Black Sun that had marked the return of the myths and legends.  Even back then they had known about me, about what was going to happen.  Back then I¡¯d been panicking and reading on the internet about how to survive the collapse of civilization, and while I¡¯d been doing that, completely unaware of . . . all of this, preparations were already being made for me.

    I could practically feel the burden of those expectations growing and settling on me.

    ¡°The isolation will work in our favour, as it will greatly lower the chances of some unfortunate person wandering by and seeing what they should not.  We shall be able to make our preparations in peace, and conduct the ritual without the worry of interference.¡±

    As we got closer, I got a clearer view of the house.  Perhaps ¡®house¡¯, was the wrong word to describe it.  What I saw, were modern additions built onto stonework and structures that probably went back a few centuries.

    The building was big, bigger than I had initially thought.  It was mostly on one floor and was a rather sprawling affair.  If I had quickly describe it I would have gone with ¡®old¡¯ and ¡®solid¡¯.  The walls were made of roughly chiselled stone and the sort of old mortar that seemed to harden into more stone.  Even the roof tiles looked more like crudely shaped slabs rather than actual building materials.

    It kind of made me think of one of those old churches that you see in certain parts of Europe, old sites that had been preserved for their historical significance.  There was a weight, a solidity to it that you just wouldn¡¯t expect in modern buildings.

    A modern house is meant to provide shelter, privacy, comfort, and not much else.  From a purely defensive point of view, most houses are pretty easy to break into, with large windows to let in light.  Joan had been right about my home not being a secure place.

    This place looked to be from a time when the residents would have needed to defend themselves.  If robbers or bandits came, the occupants would have to see to their own protection.  Thick solid walls, narrow windows, doors of wood bound in iron that looked like they could stand up to a fairly determined battering ram.  It was pretty impressive.

    On top of that, I could see the additions of some more modern touches.  I could see concrete reinforcement to certain areas and clearly modern locks on the doors.  The windows, narrow as they already were, had that glass that has wire inside it that makes it tough to break.  I could also see some small red lights that were blinking at regular intervals, though what they were I could only guess at. Some sort of security system perhaps, cameras or motion detectors?  I couldn¡¯t see Joan using things like that, not if she¡¯d forgotten to get a washing machine, but she had said others had been involved.

    It all came together to almost give the feeling of a fortress.  I could certainly see this place holding off a good number of mortal attackers.  It also had the advantage of isolation, but I wasn¡¯t sure how it would hold up to something like a hostile god.

    Joan had said gods were coming after me, and not just gods, demons too.  Everyone knew just how powerful the gods were, there were a number of recordings on the internet that were undeniable proof that it was nigh impossible for mortals to stand up to the legends.

    One of the most famous videos was a somewhat shaky one taken on a mobile phone, and the tale of what had happened was told in equally shaky words by the owner.  It was from southern Brazil, and had been at a coca field and lab run by one of the drug cartels.  Before the Black Sun large chunks of the Amazon rainforest that had been cleared in order to make way for coca farms.  When the rainforest had begun to spring back due to the will of returned gods it had been clear that the farms would only have a few days before they would be lost them to the returning jungle.

    The response had been simple, brutal, and perhaps not as well thought out as it should have been.  Since bulldozers and chainsaws didn¡¯t seem up to the task of holding back the returning jungle, the cartel decided to get rid of it by setting the whole thing on fire.  The flames had indeed consumed the returning jungle, and then gone on to devastate miles more as it spread, but the owners of the coca farm couldn¡¯t have cared less.

    They had cared later though, when night fell.

    The field and processing lab had been illuminated by floodlights, so that workers could work even in the middle of the night, so recording had been possible.  The factory was attacked by a goddess, and she did not come alone.  The video was taken from a third floor window, and caught how the compound had been overrun by jaguars the size of horses, more than a dozen of them.  They had been accompanied by a woman, her clothes simple wraps, her hair decorated with feathers, and her beauty inhuman.  She had only been armed with a spear, but she moved with uncanny speed and seemed to melt in and out of the shadows.

    The farm and lab had not been undefended, and the cartel members had been well armed.  Handguns, machine guns, sniper rifles, grenades, even a pair of flame throwers, all had been brought out as they attempted to kill the attackers.  They then tried to drive them off.  When nothing worked, they threw all they had into a desperate attempt to just survive.  Nothing had any sort of impact, nothing fazed her.  Bullets were as effective as raindrops, fire was simply ignored, explosives were as much of a threat as a light breeze.  Out of all those at the compound only a few were spared.  The rest ended up as food for the jaguars.

    By the time the sun rose the burnt jungle had recovered and the farm and lab were reclaimed by the rampant growth.  The video maker had taken interviews with the shaken survivors and told his own description of the events.  He had then uploaded the whole thing to as many sites and forums as he could before disappearing.  That was the last anyone had heard of him.

    The video had become one of the most watched in the world, and had served to highlight the kind of power that the gods could wield in the face of modern weapons.  That had been a god going up against a compound full of criminals ready to take on the law, and they¡¯d been all but wiped out.  How would this place fare if a god came after it?

    Joan . . . I¡¯d seen her become an angel, I¡¯d seen her wield the powers of Heaven, but was she going to be enough?  Could she take on a god?

    I wanted to think that I¡¯d agreed to this because . . . what?  Because I was a hero in disguise?  Come on, that morning the riskiest thing I¡¯d ever done in my life was travel to places like Morocco or Thailand, and even then, I¡¯d stuck to tourist spots.  What was happening, all of it, going with Joan, resolving to awaken whatever divine blood I might have, it was driven by fear, I had to be honest.  Fear of what might happen to my friends, fear of what might happen to my family, fear of what might happen to me!  Was it strange that the greatest act of courage I¡¯d ever undertaken in my life was mainly motivated by fear?

    Oh gods, you know what?  At that point I¡¯d had enough, I wasn¡¯t going to think myself into a knot, right now I just didn¡¯t have the energy for it.

    ¡°So . . . now what?¡±

    ¡°Allors, let us get inside so we can deposit your luggage and get set up in your room.  Then we can discuss where we will be going from here.¡± Joan suggested as she unlocked the large front door to the farmstead.

    I confess that I was expecting stone floors and bare walls that had only recently been renovated.  I¡¯d expected austere furniture, or at least a mismatch of modern and antique.

    Instead I found plush carpets, lovely furniture, good lighting, the works.  Pictures of saints and angels were quite prevalent, but there were also pictures of castles and knights.  All in all, it was a pleasant surprise.

    I followed Joan up the stairs, treading on thick solid steps, each carved from a single thick plank.  Once we got to the landing, she pointed me towards a door.

    ¡°That room has been prepared for you; I hope that you will find it comfortable.  I shall leave you to make yourself comfortable.  Please come down when you are ready.¡±

    The room was easily twice the size of my room back home, though not as brightly lit.  The windows here were like in the rest of the house, tall and narrow to avoid being entry points.  To one side there was a thick wood and metal door led out onto a sizeable balcony.  A wooden bed that had to be at least queen sized with its headboard against the middle of one wall took up the middle of the room.  There was a nice big desk, a tall chest of draws and a closet built into one wall with big mirrored sliding doors.  The floor was wooden, though there was a big woven rug in the middle of the floor.  All in all, it was awesome, the sort of room that you dream of getting in those fancy mountain lodge getaways.

    Shoving my suitcase to the side I let myself flop onto the bed, laying on my side as I contemplated my reflection in the closet doors.

    What the Hell was I doing here?  The question bubbled up inside me, and for a moment I was genuinely unsure of what the answer should be.  I¡¯d come here because Joan had asked me to, and in the face of what she¡¯d informed me of, and her absolute conviction and charisma I hadn¡¯t really seen any sensible course but to agree with her.  She¡¯d shown me her power, showed that she wasn¡¯t just someone trying to scam me or recruit me into some crazy cult.  She¡¯d turned into an angel right there in front of me, a real ¡®wings and halo¡¯ angel that had picked me up and flown me across the sky!

    I might not be the most religious guy in the world, but when a dead saint comes back from the dead at God¡¯s own command and tells you to come with her then I think that doing what she says is an understandable reaction.  I¡¯ll admit, the fact that she¡¯s hot and had a sexy accent might have figured into my decision-making process as well, if I was being honest.

    Like any sensible person I tried to follow how things were going in the new world that was emerging.  I knew there was little I could do to affect it, but I was eager to know what was happening.  On top of that, I¡¯d always liked comics and fantasy.  Now the real thing was happening around me, so of course I¡¯d watched the drama unfold.  I was keeping tabs on which demigods had risen to prominence, which caused trouble, which gods had become celebrities, which of them were driving away mortals and claiming solitude for themselves.  I liked to follow the idle speculations of others online, I liked to check out the photos and artworks that people loaded up.

    And I knew just how dangerous the powers of the supernatural could be.  For all that the status quo had somehow managed to stay roughly intact, the dead toll of the transition was mounting, and there was no way to know if the officially accepted figure could be trusted.

    What was I doing?  How much control did I really have here?  It was the first moment I¡¯d had to just stop and think since Joan had shown up at my door, and it was all starting to pile up on me.

    Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself.  It wasn¡¯t like I was completely helpless.  I still had my legs, my wits and my credit cards.  If worst came to worst, I could make it back to Britain.  That thought calmed me, made the knot in my stomach relax somewhat.  And oddly, it was knowing that I could leave that let me be sure I didn¡¯t want to.

    I was here, I¡¯d chosen to trust Joan, and I was going to see this through.  Getting off the bed I took a look around the room, my new room.

    If I was going to bite the bullet then the first thing I could do was stake a claim on the room, make it mine.  Without any further hesitation I began to unpack the clothes I had brought with me, the simple act being something of a commitment to my current course of action.

    Once it was all done and I¡¯d taken a moment to refresh myself I realized I no longer had any excuse not to go downstairs.  I was going to have to go and share a table with JOAN OF ARC!  How was I meant to deal with that?  Up until this point I¡¯d been able to keep moving forwards mainly because I was just rolling with the each turn of events, gaining a sort of momentum as I barrelled along and tried to keep my head above water.  But now things had slowed down, now I had a chance to think.

    How was I meant to talk to her?  Should I address her by a title?  Should I take care not to talk to her about the past?  Or would that be considered an insult on my part?  Could I talk to her about religious matters?  Would she hold my being an Englishman against me?

    How was I meant to treat her?  Like a priest, a nun, a warrior?  Definitely with respect, if for no other reason than that she clearly had enough power to easily reduce me to a smear on the ground if she so chose!

    ¡°Adam!¡±

    Startled I looked up from the desk I¡¯d been staring at, my eyes tracking over to the open door that I could hear the resurrected soul through.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I have prepared some food, and I would think that you have more questions to ask me.  Will you join me for a meal?  It will give us a chance to speak.¡±

    At her suggestion I felt my stomach rumble.  It had been early afternoon when Joan called, and even though I¡¯d had a late breakfast it had been a pretty light one.  I¡¯d been munching on some snacks and thinking about lunch when the saint had shown up on my doorstep.

    For hours my body had been running hard on a combination of shock, stress, and terror, enough to drown out any hunger pangs.  All in all, it had been an eventful afternoon to say the least, and I was sure I¡¯d burnt through quite a bit of my energy reserves.  Food sounded good, very good.  I could worry about everything later.  For the moment I abandoned it all in favour of the more primal need to fill my belly.

    So, I joined Joan at the table that had been set up in her dining room, a large area just off the kitchen.  Once, I imagined, there had been a much larger table there, one that could have seated a large family with ease.  Perhaps there¡¯d even been several benches, the room was certainly big enough for it.  Now, though, there was a smaller table in the middle, one more suited to about half a dozen people. It seemed slightly out of place, give how large a space was, but it was conveniently close enough to the large hatch that connected to the kitchen.

    Of course, all of that was only peripheral to me, my attention was focused on the impressive spread that had been laid out on the table.  Various roasted vegetables, at least two different salads, some fruits, and, as centrepiece, some sort of joint that glistened with some sweet-smelling glaze.  The mixture of scents wafted to me, and I¡¯ll admit that I might have begun to drool slightly, because it was a soft chuckle from my host that drew my attention away from the food.

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    ¡°It is good to see that I have succeeded in preparing a satisfactory repast.  Now, shall we be seated?¡±

    Perhaps it would have been more polite to look at her, but rivetted as my gaze was to the food, all I could do was nod my head and make my way to a chair.  Still, if her second chuckle was anything to go by, then she was more amused than offended.  In short order I was sitting down and had begun to pile a rather . . . gluttonous amount of food onto my plate.  Seriously, the thing looked like one of those pictures you see in cooking magazines.  The glistening fat on the crispy potatoes, the carrots all but dripping with melted butter, slices of meat beaded with droplets of moisture as they gently steamed, all of them piled up into small mounds on my plate that looked so beautiful that for a moment I was reluctant to eat it.

    I was about to dig in when Joan suddenly spoke up, freezing me in the midst of spearing a potato with my fork.

    ¡°Adam, hold!¡± When I glanced up, she continued. ¡°Before we partake of our meal it is only correct that we thank le bon Dieu for the food we have been given.¡±

    For a moment I was unsure of what she meant.  It was only when I saw her clasp her hands, close her eyes, and her lips move in silent words that I realized what she meant.  Grace, she wanted me to say grace.

    Honestly, grace wasn¡¯t something my family did much.  Sure, we said it on special or important meals, like Christmas or Easter, but even then, it was more as a formality, or a mark of respect, rather than genuine piety.  Aside from that I think the only occasion when I¡¯d ever said grace with any sort of regularity had been back when I was twelve years old and attending a summer camp.  Back then we¡¯d said grace before eating, the camp being one with strong Christian ties.

    But . . . now that I thought about it, maybe it was time to get a bit more into the habit, given that I had a young woman sitting across the table from me who could apparently turn into an angel at will.  God was no longer a distant and nebulous concept, He was something far more tangible in my life, and growing more so as events unfolded.

    I closed my eyes, but my mind went blank on me.  In the end all I could do was think; ¡®thank you for the food and thank you for Joan¡¯ in my head.  Though, to be fair, I was sincere in my thanks.

    After that the first part of the meal was eaten in silence.  I¡¯m not sure why Joan chose to remain quiet, but for my part it was because I was busy stuffing my face as politely as I could.  Still, I had questions, loads of them.  After all, the resurrected soul had told me that she¡¯d been in heaven, that she¡¯d met god, that she¡¯d met angels, how could I not have questions?

    I paused for a moment, trying to pare them down to the more practical, the ones relevant to my situation.  Sure, knowing just how heaven and hell worked was something that I wanted to know, but there were other things that were more urgent.

    I finished off my mouthful, noting that I¡¯d managed to eat most of the food on my plate.  That surprised me, I¡¯d known I was hungry, but I hadn¡¯t expected to go through the food quite so quickly.  I took a gulp of water to clear my throat, then looked up at Joan.

    ¡°Umm, sorry about that.  I didn¡¯t mean to get so focused on the food.¡±

    She looked up at me, her blue eyes meeting my own, not a trace of irritation or condemnation to be seen in them.

    ¡°Think nothing of it.  Today has been an eventful one for you, and the days to come will require much from you.  Taking the chance to replenish yourself after such upheaval, as well as preparing yourself for what is to come is only sensible.¡±

    Well, that didn¡¯t sound in the least bit ominous.  And as an added bonus, I had learnt that I could indeed use sarcasm within the privacy of my own skull.

    ¡°So . . . do you mind if I ask you about some stuff?  Cause I¡¯ve got to tell you, I¡¯ve got a whole bunch of question!¡±

    ¡°There is no harm in asking question.  However, be mindful, some knowledge I am forbidden to share, other secrets were never mine to begin with.¡±

    That made sense.  Some gods had elected to satisfy the curiosity of some mortals bold enough to ask them questions, but lots had been kept from mortals, things we were meant to learn rather than just be told, or that it was thought we wouldn¡¯t understand.  So, rather than trying to go for anything to grandiose, I asked something that had been buzzing around in my head since our talk back at my home.

    ¡°So . . . when exactly are we going to go through with this ritual you mentioned?¡±

    I was struck by how this was a continuation of our discussion back at my place.  Now, though, we were sat in her place, and it was me that was the guest.  Joan set down her fork and looked at me across the table.

    ¡°The ritual itself is not overlong or complicated, but it must be held under specific conditions.¡±

    ¡°What kind of conditions?¡±

    ¡°It must be held at twilight, when a full moon is taking the sky.  It must be held on unspoiled lands, far from the cities that mortals have constructed, in a place where the pulse of the earth is strong beneath our feet.  There will also need to be a fire that burns a very specific fuel.  We will have the feathers from Lady Bath Kol, and they will be the key to awakening your bloodline, and they are the most esoteric component of the ritual, the rest can be conducted with the resources available in this area.¡±

    I nodded at that, my mind going over what little I had seen of the area and it seemed to tick all the right boxes.  The ritual she described seemed almost too simple for what it promised.  I had been expecting to have to sit in some sort of mystic circle carved into holy ground while surrounded with the bones of long dead saints, drink holy water from some sort of sanctified cup, all while a dozen priests recited a several hours long rite in ancient Latin, while spreading incense all around.  Or something along those lines.

    I pulled my thoughts away from considerations as to how warped my sensibilities might have become due to modern pop culture and tried to focus on something a bit more pertinent.  This had to be done on the night of the full moon, when was that?  I used to have a watch that had these little displays that showed the phases of the moon and even how the tides were doing.  Back then I¡¯d wondered why I¡¯d ever need to know what kind of face the moon would be showing, but it would have been handy to have now.

    ¡°So, when is the next full moon?¡±

    ¡°It will be here in just over a week and a half.  I had planned to wait until it was only a day or two off before meeting with you, but the hostile elements that are trying to find you were getting too close for me to take any chances.¡±

    I nodded in acknowledgement and took another sip of my drink as I tried to get my next question straight in my head.

    ¡°So . . . what are we going to do until then?¡±

    Joan looked at me with a slightly worrying smile on her face as her eyes raked over me.  For a moment it almost looked as though she was checking me out, then I saw the way her gaze was focusing on my bare arms and hands.  You know that saying about someone looking at you like a piece of meat?  Well, I kind of got it, though in this case it was more like someone looking over a bull they were getting ready to take to the slaughterhouse.  Very reassuring, let me tell you.

    ¡°We have some time to work with, so it would be best if we began your training immediately.  Once you have your powers, we can start teaching you how to use them, until then the only thing we can work on will be your basic skills.¡±  She paused for a moment. ¡°Sword work, that is what we shall concentrate upon to begin with.  Doing so should increase your core skills and get you into better physical shape.  Once the divine blood in you has been Awakened what powers you gain shall influence where we go from there.¡±

    ¡°Sword?  You¡¯re going to teach me how to use a sword?¡±

    That sounded like the wish fulfilment of uncountable childhood fantasies of mine.  I¡¯d watched films like Star Wars, Pirates of the Caribbean, and the Lord of the Rings, then I¡¯d gone into the garden, found a stick of a suitable length and spent happy hours fighting everything my imagination could cook up, anything from orcish ninjas to space pirate storm troopers.  When I¡¯d gotten older, I¡¯d tried stuff like fencing and kendo, but hadn¡¯t been able to muster the enthusiasm for them that I would have liked.  Oh, they had been good sports, but nowhere near as exciting as the pitched battles that my boyhood daydreams had come up with.  I suppose it was undisciplined of me, but in the end, I¡¯d given up on them.

    But . . . hang on. I wasn¡¯t going to be learning the sword to look awesome while flourishing it around like a Hollywood star; I was going to learn how to use it to keep myself alive when someone else was going to be trying very hard to kill me.  That thought sobered some of my rising excitement.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good use of our time, and as I said, it will get you into better physical shape for when you gain your divine heritage.  Many of those with a divine bloodline have their physical attributes enhanced when they Awaken to their powers but being in good form beforehand can help.¡±

    I just nodded, then took another sip of the hot drink.

    ¡°So . . . do you have any ideas of what I¡¯ll be able to do afterwards, once I¡¯ve got my powers?¡±

    It was a question that had been bugging me.  The abilities gained by demigods pretty much ran the entire gambit of human imagination, and even had a few entirely new concepts pop up.  One might have invulnerable skin and the power to command ravens, another might be able to stop time for any object they were touching while another could command musical instruments to rise up and play on their own..  What might I be looking forward to?

    ¡°Well, we do know that you are both a Legacy of Bath Kol, and the direct child of another denizen of the Heavens,¡± Joan said. ¡°Though I was not told your parentage we can assume it to be of considerable strength, given the future that you are meant to face.  Given that you carry the blood of angels I imagine that it shall be their powers that you shall inherit.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±  I asked, curiosity growing.

    ¡°Had you been the son of Bath Kol herself then you would have gained powers such as a voice that could command even the elements, one that could sing notes able to break steel or shatter stone.  Were it Lord Michael that was your parent you would be granted excellence in combat to a supernatural degree and dominion over heavenly fire. Being the child of Metatron would grant the gift of prophecy, as well as a voice of power to go with it.  I think that you can be assured of increased physical abilities, and most likely some sort of command over light or air, those are the principle elements that serve the children of God.  Possibly wings as well, if He so wishes.¡±

    That was enough to spark my imagination.  Outside of my home she had become an angel, so . . . did that mean she was an angel?  Well, if I wanted to know there was no reason not to ask.

    ¡°Are you an angel?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°No, though I have had the privilege of experiencing Heaven my soul remains human, as is the flesh that I have been returned to.¡±

    ¡°But before, outside my house . . .¡±

    ¡°That was one of the gifts that I was granted by the Lord.  I can assume the form of an angel, but it is only for a short time.  My soul could not handle the pressure of the power of an angelic form for longer than that, and I would begin to burn away.¡±

    I hesitated for a moment, then asked another question.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like, being and angel?¡±

    ¡°I wish I could tell you, but all I can do is take on the form and the power of one.  Angels are more than that; they are perfect purpose and purity personified in a way that we mortals can never quite match.  Angels do not have souls in the same way we do, their spirits and minds are structured differently.  They are still similar enough to us so that we can interact, and they are similar enough to us that they can fall from Grace.  But ultimately they are different.¡±

    She paused for a moment, and then smiled.

    ¡°Still, even possessing but a portion of their essence is . . . comforting.  There is a certainty and a purity of intention that many mortals struggle to attain in their lives but rarely do.  It is both magnificent and somewhat frightening.  Still, it brings back echoes of my time in the Heavens.¡±

    Well, if ever there was an opening for me to ask my next question then that was it.  This had been burning me ever since I came to believe Joan really was whom she claimed to be, but up until now there hadn¡¯t been an appropriate time to ask.

    ¡°Ummm . . . Joan, what¡¯s Heaven like?¡±

    That was a question that everyone had asked themselves when angels had been confirmed to be real.  Even those that didn¡¯t consider themselves religious had asked it.  Humans have been trying to imagine it for millennia and have come up with various ways to describe what they thought it could be.  They¡¯d said that it was the best day of your life going on forever, that it was liberation from all that was impure in mortality and the true freedom of the spirit, or that it was simply being as close to God as you could be.

    When, on the rare occasions they chose to converse, an angel was asked what the afterlife was like they tended to be closed lipped about it, saying that there weren¡¯t the words in the mortal languages to properly describe it.  Well, with any luck Joan would be able to give me some sort of idea, right?

    ¡°Truthfully, I cannot remember most of it, there are only fragments, like dreams that are almost forgotten but that then come back.¡±

    What?!  My scattered thoughts came tumbling out before I had any chance to censor them.

    ¡°. . . What?!  You forgot?  How you just forget something like that?!¡±

    Fortunately, the resurrected saint was not offended; instead she smiled at me, an oddly wistful smile.

    ¡°Adam, I did not forget because it was unimportant, the memories of my time at His side were taken from me by Him when He sent me back to the mortal world.¡±

    I just stared at her.  God himself had stripped the memories from her?  Why?  Joan was recorded as being one of the most pious and godly women in recorded history, why would god steal her memories like that?

    ¡°Adam, the Lord would not take them from me due to any sort of maliciousness, it was done in order to protect me.¡±

    My disbelief must have shown upon my face because she continued.

    ¡°Life upon the mortal plane is hard.  We must eat, we must drink, we must rest, we must void our bodies waste.  Our lives are filled with hundreds of little hardships, as well as many greater ones.  Every moment we are dying, our bodies breaking down little by little.  Every day we consume the resources about us in order to live and are consumed in turn by the tiny lives about us.  We sicken, we heal, we break, and we heal, on and on in an endless cycle.  Such is the way of life, the lot we earned when we were driven from Eden.

    ¡°I do not remember much of my time in Heaven because if I did it would be a living hell to return to this life.  I do not remember it clearly, but there is something.  I was complete; I was myself in a way that I can no longer fully understand.  I was a soul incarnate without flesh or body.  I . . . I think I was as close to being perfect as a mortal like myself could ever be.¡±

    Her face was lightly mournful now, her eyes fixed upon the table between us.

    ¡°I also knew so much; I can remember that.  All I had to do was want the answer to a question and I would know the answer, the Lord sharing his knowledge freely.  And there was the freedom of endless time, of being able to take as long as you wished to perfect any skill or craft you set your heart upon.

    ¡°I remember being able to learn how to fight, not through divine power imparting the skill upon me, but by learning as I would as a mortal.  I learnt as angels did, to wield weapons and armour as though I had flesh.  I did not learn because I had to, instead I learnt because I wanted to; so that I might be able to serve the Lord God as best I could, should he ever have need of me again.¡±

    She held up her free hand, the fingers clenching into a fist as she looked at it.

    ¡°I do not remember the answers I received to my question; I cannot even remember many of the questions that I asked.  I remember my lessons in combat though; even if I cannot remember the form I wore when I learnt them.  It doesn¡¯t matter though, I remember how to fight, and I remember how to use the gifts that He has granted me for this task.¡±

    She smiled again and reached out to pour us each a cup of tea as my mind processed what she¡¯d just told me.  It made a certain amount of sense, if Heaven was great then it only stood to reason that coming back to the mortal realm would be hard.

    Still, her words also brought up another question, one that had been nagging at me just as long as the other one.

    ¡°Joan, you said that it was God that set you on this mission?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± She declared, without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°The Lord chose me for this task and clad me in power and mortal flesh so that I might serve him once more.¡±

    ¡°So . . . ah,¡± The question caught in my throat a bit, but I had to know, it was something so simple, but it meant so much. ¡°What¡¯s God like?¡±

    Her smile returned, brighter even than before.

    ¡°Mon Dieu, I only have impressions of Him, but what little I can remember I treasure.¡± Her eyes grew distant as she gazed at some far-off point that only she could see.  ¡°God . . . I don¡¯t remember much, but I remember a sense of size, of something so colossal that it defies understanding.  You know, I call Him ¡®He¡¯ due to my upbringing in my mortal life, but it is not accurate.  ¡®He¡¯, ¡®She¡¯, ¡®It¡¯, ¡®They¡¯, there are no words in your, mine, or any mortal language to properly describe the Almighty.  The concept of gender is meaningless to Him, as is any sort of mortal or immortal limitation.  He is simply too vast for such things to contain Him.  He is too vast for the universe to contain Him.

    ¡°But at the same time, He was . . . there with me, always aware that I was there despite the difference in size.  Even as a mortal soul shorn of all imperfection, I was so tiny compared to him, less than a flea would have been before an elephant, before a whale.  No, it was even more than that; if I was a flea then He would have been the sun itself, at the very least.  Yet even like that, with such a massive gap between us, he was aware of me, he spoke to me, he loved me.¡±

    She set down the cup, now empty, and met my eyes directly.

    ¡°That is what I remember most.  He was so vast, so powerful, almighty in every way you can imagine, but he was not frightening.  He was able to speak to so many, even as He sat on His throne He was speaking to hundreds of thousands of angels, spirits and souls at once, but when he spoke to you, you did not feel as just one of many, you felt as though he were speaking to you alone.  Also, he is . . . warm.¡±

    Again, she paused, her eyes holding mine.

    ¡°You look upon Him, and you know that he holds the power to make or break worlds, to bring forth angels from nothing, or erase the mightiest god with a thought, but when He speaks to you it is as though it is your loving parents addressing you, it is a caring teacher, that speaks, it is a respected leader.  He is so much, but He shows you His kindness and regard when He speaks to you, and you know can trust in him completely.¡±

    She shook her head, breaking the look we¡¯d been exchanging.

    ¡°I am not describing it well; it is not really something that words can encapsulate.  I speak truthfully when I say I cannot even remember all of it.  What I do remember is that my Lord was all I could have hoped for and more.¡±

    Her certainty was breath-taking, and it was then that it really hit me.  This really was Joan of Arc, one of the greatest French saints, and one of the strongest female leaders in history.  She had saved a nation on the verge of collapse and conquest, and she had managed it all through her own charisma and her absolute faith in her God.  It was humbling, being in the presence of such unwavering belief, and it made me feel . . . small, in a way.  What did I believe in?  What did I have faith in?  I¡¯d never regarded myself as a particularly religious person, more a sort of nominal Christian than anything else.  I have just tried my best to live as decent a life as I could and do the right thing and would work from there.  I¡¯d never seen anything wrong with that, never seen it as being lesser to anything else.

    Now though, I still didn¡¯t think I was wrong in how I lived, but at the same time I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what it was like to have that level of belief powering you on.  What must it be like to have that sort of surety, that conviction that what you were doing had absolute merit?  Such faith had caused things both great and terrible in the world, and I couldn¡¯t help wondering what it was like.

    ¡°Do you regret it, your life?¡±

    The question was asked hesitantly.  She¡¯d lived and died doing what she felt was her divinely appointed duty, even when she was burning at the stake, she had asked for someone to hold up a cross for her.  By questioning that, by questioning if she regretted her faith, could I be doing anything other than insulting her?

    ¡°Not even for a moment.¡±

    There was absolutely no hesitation in her voice, nor was there any rancour, much to my relief.

    ¡°I was called because I was needed, and I served because I was a good Christian and a dutiful daughter to Mon Signeur.  His saints gave me their advice, and I followed it to the end.  In the end I burnt at the hands of your countrymen, but I hold only pity for them that they were blinded by greed and hatred and were unable to hear the words of the Lord.  My actions saved my country and my king and brought us back onto the right path.  For that I was willing to do all I could, and had I known what path my choices would take me upon, I would walk it all again without a second thought!¡±

    ¡°And what about us?  I mean, you know, the English?  You really don¡¯t feel bitter about what was done to you?  You really don¡¯t you hate us?¡±

    I paused for a bit, as I saw her eyes narrow slightly, but I couldn¡¯t stop.  If I was going to trust my life to her I had to know. ¡°I . . . look; I think you¡¯ve got a right to hate us.  I¡¯m no great authority on history, but I do know at least a bit about your history, though I¡¯m sure it¡¯s been muddled some by time.  You . . . you didn¡¯t get a fair trial, the English that captured you and tried you, made a . . . a mockery of the whole thing.  In the end they burned you for wearing men¡¯s clothes, that was it, that was all they could prove against you!  And they killed you for it! I . . . if you did hate everyone from my country, I wouldn¡¯t blame you.¡±

    ¡°I . . . I am ashamed to say that I might have hated the men that sentenced and burned me,¡± she admitted.  ¡°Were they before me I would hate them, but they are long dead and gone to what they deserved.  Your country is not responsible for the crimes committed by mortals centuries ago, and to think otherwise would be to indulge myself nothing more than holding a grudge against those that are innocent.¡±

    The cup in my hand was empty now, and the porcelain cold to touch.  It was strange, here I was having received answers to things that historians and philosophers would have killed to know, and I could feel my concentration falling apart.  Why?  What was wrong with me?

    No, actually I knew what it was; it was information overload, pure and simple.  Today I¡¯d met a resurrected hero,  I¡¯d found out I was a child of the divine, had probably had the greatest fright of my life, been taken completely out of any sort of familiar setting, and now I¡¯d received the answers to some pretty heavy questions.  When you thought of it that way, was it really that much of a surprise that my brain was running out of steam?

    ¡°You know . . .¡± I said slowly, setting the cup down on its saucer. ¡°I think that¡¯s about all I can take of the serious stuff.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Joan sounded distinctly amused by this, and a light smile was touching her lips again. ¡°Are you certain of that, Adam?  I may not recall all that I learnt in the Halls of Heaven, but I still know many great secrets.  Are you certain that you do not wish to ask me more?¡±

    I could tell the question wasn¡¯t meant seriously, and I found myself smiling back.

    ¡°How about we try something a bit more . . . mundane?¡±

    ¡°Such as what?¡±

    ¡°Well, you say we¡¯re going to be here for a while, so why don¡¯t we get to know each other a bit better?¡±

    As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to cringe.  Come on, that sounded like a bad pickup line.  Not wanting her to get the wrong impression I ploughed on.

    ¡°How about this?  I¡¯m Adam West.  I like long walks, seeing new places, and admit that I massively into sci-fi and Japanese entertainment.  My favourite colour is blue; my favourite hot drink is tea, and I my favourite fruit is strawberries.  I can¡¯t stand eating lamb, I hate cocktails, and I can¡¯t assemble any sort of DIY to save my life.  Pleased to meet you.¡±

    As I said that last bit, I stuck out my hand in greeting, as though we were meeting for the first time.  She looked at me, smiled, then took my hand and gave it a firm shake.  Her grip was strong, but not crushing, and I could feel the calluses on her palm pressing into my skin.

    ¡°I am pleased to meet you, Adam,¡± She said. ¡°My name is Jeanne d¡¯Arc; also known as Joan of Arc.  I enjoy riding and swordsmanship, prayer in chapels, and watching sunrises.  My favourite colour is white; I am quite fond of sweet meats, and also red grapes.  I cannot abide pipe smoke, and dislike wine.  I also confess to a mild fear of fire since my return to mortal life.¡±

    There was a pause as we both just looked at each other and laughed as we both just leaned back in out armchairs.

    ¡°So, what do you like most about the modern world?¡±

    ¡°The new bathrooms, without a doubt!¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, bath and showers are luxuries that kings would granted lordships for, in my day.  And these new toilets, they are so much better than the stinking privies that we used to use.  You cannot imagine it!  And toilet paper, Mon Dieu, so wonderful!¡±

    I grinned at that, then asked her; ¡°How about the atmosphere?  I remember reading once that modern pollution has made things smell different, is that true?¡±

    ¡°Adam, with the kinds of waste disposal that we had in my mortal days there wasn¡¯t a large town or city that didn¡¯t stink.¡±

    It was pleasant.  We spent the next hour talking about small, inconsequential things, getting to know each other, just . . . relaxing.  In the end, I went to bed exhausted, but feeling better about my situation.

    I felt more at ease, knowing Joan as a person rather than as some larger than life figure from the past.  It made me feel as though things were more manageable.

 Chapter 6: New Dwellings and New Knowledge : Part Two

    ¡°What do you mean you lost the trail?!¡±

    The voice was calm, no inflections or hints of passion, but it was enough to make the figure hunch over as though afraid they would be struck.

    The room was a small one, not really much more than a shed, but sufficient for the purposes it was intended for.  Each wall was adorned with symbols, some runic, others geometric.  All of them were painted with dark rusty red paint which seemed to glow in the dim lighting.  The small fire that burnt in a bowl at the centre of the rooms floor was the only source of light, and it had been from this fire that the voice had spoken.

    Prostrated before the small flame was the room¡¯s only occupant, a figure so wrapped in robes, despite the hot atmosphere, that it was impossible to determine their height, age or even their gender.  They were on their knees, their gloved hands pressed to the concrete floor of the room as they bowed their hooded head.  They made no sound, spoke no words, but the voice from the fire responded to an unheard reply.

    ¡°It must be found once more!  We know that she has faded from your vision before, but always she has returned.  Continue to monitor for her, even if she only appears for a moment.  Every scrap of information you gain on where she might be could prove invaluable!¡±

    Again, there was no reply; instead the robed figure simply shuddered in place.

    ¡°We suspected that she had been gifted with the form of one of Yahweh¡¯s servants, but your report confirms it.  It is hardly a surprise that her light would be sufficient to blind your sight if such is the case.¡±

    There was a momentary pause, then the voice continued.

    ¡°Your skills may not be able to find her trail once more; you will require aid to do so.  Another of my servants will be sent to aid you.  Wait and take no further actions until they arrive, it should only be a matter of hours before they can join you.  Once you are together combine your abilities to find her once again.  Once she has been located, steps shall be taken!¡±

    The robed figure pressed their shrouded face into the concrete, their entire being seemingly focused upon expressing their fear and acquiescence.  For a few minutes they simply remained that way, frozen in supplication.  Then the fire died away and the glow in the symbols did likewise.  Still the figure remained on their knees for a while longer, even as the dark swallowed up the small room.

    Eventually they became convinced that the voice from beyond the fire would not be returning, at least not any time soon.  Laboriously the figure climbed to their feet and turned to exit the small room.  The door revealed a narrow staircase going up, the stairs carved crudely from rock and illuminated by flickering electrical lights.  Step by step the figure made their way up, until they came to another door.  Gloved fingers reached out and pressed down on a specific spot on the doorframe.  There was a click, and then the door swung slowly open, letting in the sunlight from the room beyond.

    The door that had just been opened was actually a large bookshelf, one which swung back and clicked back into position.  Once returned there was no sign that the shelf of tomes had ever been anything other than what it appeared to be.  Slowly, as though wading through tar, the figure moved over to the room¡¯s sole chair and collapsed into it.  For a time, all the figure did was sit there, motionless as they regained strength.  As they did so their concealed eyes flicked about the chamber they were in.

    The walls had no windows, but the room was flooded with natural light from the unusual roof design.  This allowed more room for the bookshelves that seemed to line every available surface.  Of course, those shelves were needed for the books.

    So many books, some modern, others so old that they were bound in leather and written on parchment.  It was all books.  Indeed, in some places there was no more room on the shelves, and the books were piled up in columns, small monuments to the almost desperate greed of their owner for knowledge.  Some of the covers could be seen and, were an individual observant enough, they would have been able to note a certain common element to all the books.  Some had covers in Latin, Greek, Arabic, all sorts of other languages ranging from Italian, to Russian, to some written in old Egyptian hieroglyphs.  There were such titles as; ¡®Ashmort¡¯s Treatise upon the Practical Applications of Mesmerism¡¯, ¡®Russian Studies into Psychokinesis¡¯, ¡®Science Once Thought to be Magic¡¯, or ¡®Truths That Have Been Forgotten¡¯.

    Each and every one of them was related to power, the sort of power that would once have been called magic

    When the Black Sun had occurred more than just the Legends returned.  Energies from the other realms had seeped back into the mortal plane, igniting dormant powers, Awakening the planet as profoundly as if it had been a demigod coming into their immortality.  Mana had begun to flow once more, sleeping forces roused to activity and swept through the world.  Magic, it had returned and was there for those with the skill, will and patience to learn to use it.

    The figure . . . this had been someone that had invested vast amounts of time and resources into the study of personal power.  They had not wanted the transitory power that came with wealth or position, nor had they been interested in the petty power that could be gained through expertise in violence or weapons.  What they had wanted was the power to make the world bow to their will, to make others kneel before them in fear and awe, and they had spent most of a lifetime pursuing it.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    What they¡¯d wanted was personal power, something that was theirs alone, not bought from others with money and influence, but wasn¡¯t as crude as mere strength or skill with violence.  They had studied such arts as hypnosis, brainwashing, mental tricks to make others doubt and fear, but that had been too limited, barely more than what could be achieved through simple charisma and an overwhelming personality.  Not the sort of power they wanted.

    It had been a mad dream, but they had known that there was some truth to the old myths.  There had been stories passed down through their family line, and then there had been the strange things they had found in the secret catacombs beneath the ancestral family estate.  For years the robed figure had been certain that magic, that the kind of power they sought, was not some illusion or delusion, and they had poured themselves into finding it.

    And then came the Black Sun.

    Suddenly those spells they had learnt, those diagrams they had copied again and again, those rituals they had committed to memory, all of them began to work.  It had been a slow process, and while they hadn¡¯t gained the power to break armies or enslave nations, it had been an auspicious beginning.

    Feverishly they had begun going over everything once more, trying to discern what actually worked now.  They had been one of the first of the purely mortal to grasp the power of magic that had once been the weapon of humanity, but even so they were still far from equalling the great practitioners of the past.  Their efforts had not gone unnoticed though.

    One of the legends had come to them, one of the ancient powers that had returned to the world.  They had made an offer, the figure¡¯s service and loyalty in exchange for knowledge and power.  There had been weariness of submitting to another, but the offer had been too sweet, too tempting.  They had accepted and entered the immortal¡¯s service.

    It had been the best decision that they could have made, with the backing and tuition that their patron offered they had been able to accelerate their learning in leaps and bounds.  They had gained power, regained their lost youth, and harnessed some of the forces of the returned supernatural world to their will.  In the entire world there could only be a handful of other mystics that were their equal.  It was a heady sensation, knowing that they were among the strongest of all mortals, and it had made all the sacrifices and effort they had put into their work worth it.

    But then this new assignment had come, and the practitioner was beginning to feel uncertainty creep into their heart.  According to their patron as the new order of the world began to settle a number of powerful demigods would begin to make themselves known.  These children of mortals and immortals would be powerful, and would aid in establishing the shape of the world that was to come.  Their patron was unwilling to leave the shaping of the future in the hands of these children, so they had set out to bring these new demigods under their direction.

    Other agents had been tasked with finding the others, but the robed figure had been charged with monitoring the European continent.  Though it was a massive area, the spells taught by their patron and their patron¡¯s own allies were more than sufficient for the task.  They had needed to learn to ignore the gods that shone like suns to their spell¡¯s sight, but it had been within their expertise.  They had watched and searched, and then they had sensed a blooming of power that had been like the birth of a star.  The soul that had emerged had not been the equal of a god, nor that or an angel or a demon, but it shone amongst the ranks of humanity like a firefly in the night.

    They had learnt that it was the returned soul of the Maiden of Orleans, an agent of the Abrahamic god, and not one of his angels.  The magic user¡¯s patron had been certain that she was meant to find one of the demigods that they sought, so the figure had been charged with tracking her wherever she went.  For days and then weeks it had been devilishly hard to keep track of her, even with the most potent spells that could be brought to bear.

    She would disappear for days, only to be found in some out of the way village in Spain, then disappear again only to emerge in Germany.  Tracking her had taken vast amounts of time and energy which had not yielded as much success as would have been desired.  However, a few days ago something seemed to have changed.  The spells they had been employing had locked onto the resurrected heroine and managed to remain in place as she slowly moved across France towards the England.  The spells had maintained their hold as she had crossed the channel and made her way through the countryside in a rather meandering path.

    Then she¡¯d disappeared again!

    It had been enough to make the robed figure want to scream in frustration.  All that effort, all that energy and the returned saint seemed to have evaded them once more.  They knew that whatever the interference was it could not be from Joan of Arc herself.  This level of disruption was too sophisticated.  The saint herself simply didn¡¯t have the skills for it.  Certainly, she had power, divine power that had been bestowed upon her, but it was inherent, not learnt. Such power could only be used in ways in keeping with its nature.  It could not work in the ways that this cloaking effect did.

    Perhaps it was Yahweh, that was as good a possibility as any.  The Lord of the High Heavens was unquestionably the most powerful god of all, but his very nature constrained what he could do.  However, assigning one of his angels to keep this agent of his concealed was something that could be done with relative freedom. It would also explain any number of other things, such as why the protection seemed to be intermittent.  Angels were powerful, but they were not infallible.  If one was tasked with shielding the saint, then the periods she was detectable might be explained by moments of weakness on the part of the angel as they grew inattentive or exhausted.

    It was a plausible theory, but there was no way to be sure.

    Rising from the seat the figure moved more easily over to the door out of the large study.  Their rest had restored their lost energy, and that meant that they were now able to move more freely.  That was good; preparations had to be made for when their sponsor¡¯s agent arrived.  Yes, there was much that had to be done.

 Chapter 7: Further Lessons: Part One

    You know, there are moments when you look back on your life and wonder just how you could have been so wrong about something.

    When I had gone to bed in my new room at the farmstead, I had been quite sure that Joan was a good person.  I had been impressed with her piety, her faith in God, with the obvious dedication she put into her task.  I had also been touched by her kindness, the way she had tried to make me feel at home, and how she had tried to put me at ease.

    Simply put, I had thought that she was pretty cool, someone I¡¯d trust to have my back.

    Oh, how wrong I was.

    The truth had quickly become so clear to me.  She was a fiend in human form!  A twisted torturer escaped from the pit and here to make my every living moment an unbearable hell!  Nothing else would explain the sheer ferocity of her attempts to torture me and wring every ounce of despair that she could from my flagging body.

    ¡°KEEP THAT SWORD POINT UP!!¡±

    My internal declarations of her inhuman cruelty received further proof as the blonde swordswoman yelled at me, even as she swung her sword and smacked me over the head with it.  Granted, rather than being the razor-edged weapon at her hip, or a blade forged from heavenly light, this sword was just a wooden one.  But that didn¡¯t mean that it didn¡¯t hurt like hell when it hit me.  And that hit was only the latest of way too many this morning and didn¡¯t do anything to improve my mood.

    Still, I didn¡¯t want to be . . . clobbered again, so the sword I held came up once more, despite the burning in my arms.

    This was the first of Joan¡¯s lessons in swordplay.  And really; as it went on I was seriously beginning to consider the merits of being killed by an evil god.  At least that had the appeal of being a quick death.  This was turning out to be torture in disguise.

    The day had begun quite well.  My host had been kind enough to let me sleep in fairly late, and had even provided breakfast when I came down.  To be sure, porridge wasn¡¯t my favourite meal, but there was plenty of it, and also lots of local honey to sweeten it up.  There had also been bacon, fresh fruit, and even freshly baked bread.  Seriously, this was the kind of meal that you¡¯d expect in really expensive hotels.  At the time I¡¯d been really surprised and had thought that if this was what I had to look forward to each morning then I would have to be careful that I didn¡¯t end up piling on the pounds.

    Oh, how naive I had been.

    As soon as the meal had finished Joan had told me to go and change into some clothes that would be suitable for heavy exercise and to then come out and meet her in the yard.  Since it was pretty warm outside I¡¯d made do with a t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms, and trainers.  It was a simple arrangement that I thought would be fine for just about anything.

    Had I been more aware of what I was going to face I think I would have demanded full plate armour.

    The first thing that Joan had done as soon as I met up with her was to hand me a sword, and quite a big one at that.  It wasn¡¯t quite as reckless as you might think though.  The sword was large, something like a metre in length, and thick enough that it could take a blow every bit as strong as the ones it could deal, but it was also as blunt as a letter opener.  Sure, the tip was pointy and could do some serious damage if it got the sword''s full weight behind it, but as far as the edge was concerned the sword was more of a shiny club than it was a keen-edged blade of death.

    When she gave me that sword some boyish part of me started to jump up and down with glee at the back of my mind.  There was something about holding a sword that appealed to me.  I wanted to start swinging it around, see how hard I could hit something with it, even try and copy some of the classic swordsman poses, like He-Man or Star Wars.

    Of course, I had asked why I was learning swordwork at all.  Sure, it was cool, but was it the best use of our time?

    Joan had explained how she was doing it to help lay a foundation for when I got my powers.  Training like this was going to get me into fighting shape quicker than simple fitness training would.  It would also help me sharpen my reflexes and learn to cope with getting hurt in a fight.  Lastly, swords were generally more useful to demigods than guns, melee weapons being more suited to being empowered than ranged ones.  Also, there was a good chance that I might end up with a shaping power similar to hers, so I might end up creating weapons I¡¯d need to know how to use.

    That had sparked off a whole bunch of ideas and fantasies in my head, and I was all too eager to start learning so I could become a sword-wielding badass!

    My excitement did not last for long though, not once Joan took control of the lesson.  And a lesson it was, she had no interest or time for playing, instead, she immediately set about teaching me how to use the sword she had given me.  First, there was how to position my feet, then there was my posture, then how to hold the sword, and then how the sword should be held in relation to my body.  Just that took up the better part of an hour, and by the time she was satisfied, I was already starting to feel a bit sore.

    That was when she moved me on to actual sword work, and let me tell you that was even worse.  She seemed to think that the priority was to be able to use the sword to protect myself.  I could see the logic in that, after all the purpose of this was to let me have a better chance at living through a possible attack.  I wasn¡¯t meant to be able to take my attacker down, just keep them from taking me down.  That made sense, and I could agree with it.

    Unfortunately, Joan¡¯s idea of training was to come at me hard and hit me if I failed.

    She showed me how to use the sword to block, how to hold it, and how to angle it to deflect rather than fully obstruct a blow.  The problem was that as soon as she was satisfied that I had the general principle down she began a very practical teaching method, namely, she tried to hit me, and I tried to block or dodge.  Of course, I was well aware that she was hardly giving it her all; if she had then I would have been on the ground as nothing more than a lump of tenderized meat.

    Still, she wasn¡¯t exactly taking it easy on me either.  If I missed blocking then she would hit me, and it would hurt.  In the first few minutes, I quickly acquired an unpleasant collection of welts and bruises on my arms and chest, each one payment for not being fast enough.  Still, pain was an excellent motivator, and Joan wasn¡¯t accepting any complaints.  When I protested the hits, she just asked me if she thought that those trying to kill me would just leave bruises.  How was I meant to argue with that?

    So, I kept on doing my best to dodge away or block with the sword as Joan swung her wooden one at me again and again.  And again.  And again.  And again.

    I don¡¯t know how long we were at it.  It felt like hours, but the realist in me told me that it probably was only about thirty minutes, three-quarters of an hour at most, that was how long it took my body to run out of energy to the point where I could neither raise the sword nor dodge any more.

    I really must have been a pathetic sight, because rather than follow through on her last attack she lowered her wooden sword and told me to take a break.  I didn¡¯t so much sit down as I simply collapsed on the spot, my face pressed up against my left knee.

    I was quite prepared to just stay there, in fact, I¡¯m pretty sure that if Joan had just left me there I¡¯d probably have simply fallen asleep on the spot, but the French saint had no intentions of letting me off that easily.

    ¡°Debout, soldat!¡±

    I barely registered the words before I felt her on my shoulder.  My T-shirt was damp and sweaty, and her hand felt oddly cool and comforting, even through the thin material.  Then I noticed that I was feeling better.  Then I noticed that I was feeling way too much better.

    It¡¯s a weird sensation to realize that you¡¯re feeling better than you should.  There is this sort of tilting to the world, a feeling that things aren¡¯t the way that they¡¯re meant to be, then things sort of slide back into place as you work out what¡¯s going on and manage to mentally compensate.  For me, it took a couple of seconds to figure out what was going on.  I just sat there, stunned, as the pain and fatigue flowed out of me like dirt being washed away by warm water.  It was only when I looked over my shoulder and saw the green glow emanating from the hand resting there that I was able to put the pieces together.

    It was the same power that she¡¯d used to put that tree back together, she was now using it on me.  I wasn¡¯t a tree though, so why was she using it on me?  Then, as I felt the pain from my bruises start to fade, the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place.  It wasn¡¯t some sort of plant-repair magic, it was healing magic!  Yes, that made a lot more sense.  As I worked it out I recall that I smiled to myself in relief, thankful that this would mean that I wouldn¡¯t look like a mass of red and purple bruises later.

    Ah, such sweet innocence.

    As soon as I was all healed up, and my energy recovered, she had me on my feet and was starting the whole thing again.  She worked me relentlessly until I was completely spent, my muscles were utterly exhausted.

    Of course, they didn¡¯t stay that way for too long; Joan healed me up again as soon as she saw how finished I was.  Then we did the whole cycle again.  And again.  And again!

    Yes, Joan was an evil fiend sent from the depths of hell to torment me!

    ¡°Very well, that will be all for now.  Let us get something to eat.¡±

    Words cannot describe just how much relief I felt on hearing that!  They also served to make me aware of just how hungry I was.

    ¡°Food?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Adam,¡± She confirmed.  ¡°The healing that God has granted me allows me to repair and reinvigorate your body, but it still requires material to fuel itself.  The healing I performed on you has most likely used up much of the reserves of your body, so now we must see about replacing them.¡±

    I blinked at her, my mind still feeling a bit fuzzy.  It was like I was hearing the words, even understanding them, but they weren¡¯t really stringing together properly.  The one thing that was quite clear was that she was offering me food.  That sounded good, very good.  Good enough to get me back on my shaking legs and begin to stumble towards the house.

    ¡°ATTANDS!¡±

    The single shouted word was enough to freeze me in place.  Had I done something wrong?  Was I meant to bow to her like a sensei at a dojo, or something?

    ¡°Take a shower and change your clothes first, that will give me some time to get the food ready.¡±

    That . . . made sense.  It seemed like the deodorant I¡¯d used wasn¡¯t up to the challenge of Joan¡¯s training.

    ¡°I¡¯ll . . . I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    And so, on somewhat shaky legs, I dragged myself back to my room, threw my clothes into the laundry hamper, and had a shower.  And let me tell you, that shower was pure bliss!  The feeling of the warm water washing away all that grime and sweat, even as it massaged my body with the water pressure, felt almost worryingly good.

    I was able to get dried and dressed in a commendably short time, my stomach urging me on with intermittent growls the entire time.  Whatever Joan had done to me to get me up on my feet after I ran out of steam had helped me work up an appetite.

    The last thing that I put on was my watch, and as I did so I glanced down at it.  My eyes widened as I saw the time, nearly three o¡¯clock.

    Had it really been that long?  Actually, had it really been that short?  That kind of exhaustion did some funny things to one''s sense of time, so I suppose I was surprised in both directions.  Experimentally I clenched my hand and flexed my arms.  I wasn¡¯t sore exactly, but there was a definite sense of tiredness there, as though I¡¯d had a heavy workout a few days ago.

    Joan had said that what I did need fuel to fix, so did that mean she was speeding up my body¡¯s natural recovery rather than reversing the damage, or something like that?  If that was the case then I could see the advantages to the sort of training we¡¯d just done.  If I remembered right building muscle was a matter of exercising until it hurt since your muscles were getting tiny micro tears from being overused, then healing up and the muscles becoming a bit stronger than before.  I suppose with this method I could skip the whole ¡®having to heal¡¯ bit and repeat the workout again and again consecutively, getting just a bit stronger each time.

    Such thoughts were able to occupy my mind for the time it took to make my way down to the large dining room of the one-time farmstead, but once I got there I will admit that my ponderings flew from my mind like scattered birds.

    I was confronted by a positive bounty of food waiting for me on the table.  There was a whole roast chicken there, though how she¡¯d managed to prepare it I had no idea, there was a bowl full of boiled potatoes, their surfaces glistening with melted butter and a dashing of herbs, cooked carrots, a salad, and those little sausages that are wrapped in bacon.  I think that I nearly dropped to my knees to offer thanks right then and there, but that would have delayed me from partaking of the delicious feast before me, so instead, I settled for making a beeline to the nearest chair.

    ¡°I see that I was right in thinking that you would have quite the appetite after our training,¡±  Joan commented as she cut off a drumstick and served it on a plate along with an assortment of vegetables, then passed it over to me.

    I confess that it was only then that I realized I could feel the drool welling up in my mouth.  It was with an embarrassed expression on my face that I received the plate of food, but that didn¡¯t stop me from nodding my thanks and then reaching for it eagerly.

    ¡°Adam.¡±

    She didn¡¯t speak my name harshly, but there was an edge to her tone that made me freeze in place, unsure of what I might have done wrong.

    ¡°You are forgetting to offer thanks to the Lord for our food once more.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    It took me a moment for her words to connect in my head, the majority of my mental processing power taken up by the delicious smells coming off the food before me.  For a moment I considered protesting but decided that it just wasn¡¯t worth it.  Instead, I clasped my hands before me and tried to come up with something to say.

    ¡°Lord Almighty,¡± I began, casting about for what to say next. ¡°Thank you for this food.  Really, I mean that, thank you!

    ¡°Thank you also for this opportunity.  Thanks for the chance to get stronger.  And thanks for giving Joan healing, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have been able to make it to the table without it.¡±

    That last comment drew an amused smile from the French saint as she looked up from her own clasped hands.  She nodded, seemingly satisfied with the brief and improvised grace, something I wasn¡¯t going to complain about.  Reaching out to my plate, I set down to tucking into it with relish.

    For her part, my host served herself a second plate and then began to enjoy the food herself.  I did note though, that the portion she served herself was somewhat smaller than the one I was happily devouring, and that she wasn¡¯t attacking it with quite the same urgency that I was.  For a few minutes, there was no talking.

    After a bit though, namely a chicken leg, some of the breast, plenty of potatoes a few carrots, and a generous portion of salad, the gnawing hunger in my belly felt appeased.  It was at that point that I finally realized that I was being rather rude to my host.

    ¡°Ah, ummm . . . thanks for the food?¡±

    It was more of a question than it was a statement, but Joan took it with a smile.

    ¡°It is fine.  Though I did not have a body in Heaven when I began my own training I do recall how taxing it was.  Your response, though somewhat more . . . pronounced than I was expecting, is perfectly understandable.¡±

    I nodded, then gently waved my fork at her, the speared piece of chicken breast on it glistening slightly in the light coming through the windows.

    ¡°Well, this is great, and believe me I mean it.  I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been this hungry before, but this food is amazing!¡±

    ¡°Merci.  Cooking was something of a pleasure back in my mortal life, and during my time in Heaven I found it to remain something of a pleasant pastime.¡±  Her brows drew together slightly in puzzlement as a thought seemed to occur to her. ¡°Which is something of a surprise since when I existed in the Heavens I did not have a body to feed.  So how was I able to enjoy food?¡±

    She paused for a moment, then shook her head.

    ¡°Another of the holes in my recollection, I suppose.  It is hardly of any import.¡±

    It was funny; that I hadn¡¯t noticed the oddities in the way she spoke until then.  She never used contractions, like ¡®isn¡¯t¡¯ or ¡®couldn¡¯t¡¯, with her it was ¡®is not¡¯ or ¡®could not¡¯.  It left her sounding oddly formal, her language technically perfect, but lacking the more informal touches that came to those that spoke it daily.  It was as though English wasn¡¯t something that she¡¯d learnt naturally, but rather as if it had been somehow downloaded into her head when she was resurrected.

    I actually found her exacting and formal manner of speech to be somewhat endearing, especially when combined with her French accent.  However, that wasn¡¯t the main issue at the moment, there were more important things to focus on.

    ¡°So, how do you think things went today?¡±

    That was the question, wasn¡¯t it?  I wanted to know just how much that torture session had paid off.  I¡¯d sometimes work up a sweat on a decent walk on hills and the like, but it was more the act of travelling on my feet rather than the actual exercise that I liked.  All that I¡¯d gone through earlier; I¡¯d never pushed myself like that before.

    ¡°Well, I fear that I cannot say you are a born master of the blade,¡± she replied, setting her cutlery down before her. ¡°That said, you do not seem to be disadvantaged either.  You learnt as we practised, and if you can learn then you can improve.¡±

    Well, I will admit that I was hoping she was going to tell me that she was impressed with how fast I¡¯d come along.  I mean, come on!  Supposedly I was the child of one of the super weapons of Heaven, shouldn¡¯t that mean that I automatically came with a licence to kick ass?  I couldn¡¯t help but be disappointed.

    ¡°Your body is in surprisingly acceptable condition,¡± She continued. ¡°We shall need you to build some more muscle, but at least you do not need to burn away unwanted fat.  Between your efforts and the gifts granted to me by the Lord, we should be able to have you in much better shape by the time of the ritual.¡±

    Well, that wasn¡¯t quite what I wanted to hear, but I couldn¡¯t really argue with it.

    ¡°So . . . I guess that we¡¯re going to be doing that again?¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to moan, but I couldn¡¯t help the tone of my question.  Then I thought back to how she¡¯d worked me over before, and I decided that the tone was well deserved.  Joan answered me with a smile that was just slightly apologetic.

    ¡°I know that this is not pleasant for you, but it needs to be done.  Until we awaken the divine blood in your veins all we can do to improve your future odds is to strengthen your body and hone your combat skills.  I know that the method we are using is taxing upon you, even soldiers training for the battlefield enjoy more time to recover in between.  But if we wish to make the most of the time we have this is the best option available to us.¡±

    I silently nodded my reluctant agreement.  Why did she have to be right?  Ah well, her words were as good an opening as any regarding something that had been of interest to me.

    ¡°Just how good are your healing abilities?¡± I asked, after swallowing my mouthful of buttered carrots. ¡°I mean, you were able to heal me up pretty good, and you were able to put that tree back together.  Could you do that with a person, reattach a lost limb I mean?¡±

    She shook her head at my question, her fork absently stabbing into her salad as she did so.

    ¡°Sadly, my gifts are far more modest than that.  The healing magic I have been gifted is suited to accelerating healing and recovery, but it is unsuited for such complex tasks as mending severely shattered bones or damaged organs.  I suppose that it could be said that I am not so much a healer as I am a soldier trained in advanced first aid.  I chose to focus upon gaining the strength of arms that I never possessed in life, to be able to wield a sword in the service of God Almighty rather than simply carrying a banner in His name.  In doing so I forfeited the chance to wield other miracles in His service, though in return I gained much in the way of martial prowess and power.¡±

    She paused to take another bite of her chicken, her face pensive.

    ¡°I do recall others though, angels and souls that were far more gifted than I with healing.  During my training, I witnessed some of the skirmishes with the forces of hell and saw the wounds the soldiers of heaven endured.  You would not believe what the healers could accomplish.  Whole limbs could be regenerated in a matter of minutes, malignant biles broken down and reabsorbed into the body, injuries or defects in the most complicated of the body¡¯s organs could be repaired with ease, for the greatest even returning life to the recently dead was possible.¡±

    She went quiet for a moment, her eyes distant as she stared into her hazy memories.

    ¡°There is much that I have forgotten, but that was left to me, the memory of the glory of the mercy of Heaven.  Unlike so many of the other powers that the servants of God wield, healing is a gentle power, true mercy and the desire to right what is wrong with a body.¡±

    Joan¡¯s eyes left the past and focused on me.

    ¡°If we are fortunate then the blood of Heaven in your veins may well awaken with the ability to heal.  The Lord said that you would be powerful, and healing is one of the greater powers in the Heavens.¡±

    I frowned slightly.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention that before.¡±

    I didn¡¯t say it as an accusation, rather it was meant as simple confusion.  Joan must have taken it the wrong way though because she looked somewhat guilty as she replied.

    ¡°Forgive me, it only occurred to me while we were training.  Many gifts are all but standard to the angels, such as flight, great physical strength and speed, and some sort of elemental dominion.  However, some of the more esoteric gifts employed by the higher-ranked angels are such things as healing, purification, or even blessing.  If the Lord intends for you to be a power upon the Earth in his service then it is entirely possible that you will be gifted with such.¡±

    I nodded, then paused as a thought that had been welling up in me for ages made itself known again.  This was a question that I really wanted the answer to, but I wasn¡¯t sure if it would be offensive of me to ask it of her.  Joan hadn¡¯t struck me as someone that was fanatical about her faith, but at the same time, it would take a blind man not to see how strong that faith was.  It was something of a tightrope, but it was one that she balanced well.  Yes, I was sure that I could ask this of her.  Still, there was no reason not to at least be delicate about it.

    ¡°Joan, there¡¯s something I¡¯ve been wanting to ask you, about God.  Would you be . . . offended if I did?¡±

    ¡°I hardly think you able to ask anything that would offend me in any great way,¡± She replied, smiling again. ¡°What do you wish to know?¡±

    ¡°Well . . . why does God need me?  I mean, he¡¯s God, the Big Guy Upstairs, the most powerful of all, the Almighty, if there¡¯s anything that needs doing why can¡¯t he just wave his hand and make it so?  Is he not strong enough?  Are the other gods stronger or something?¡±

    Joan¡¯s smile faded, and for a moment I thought that despite what she had said I might have managed to get under her skin.  However, rather than being angry her expression instead became serious.

    ¡°I can see why you would wish to know that,¡± She said, her tone grave. ¡°There are many in this world that ask why God allows things to happen.  Why does He allow the wicked to prosper, the violent to harm the weak, the cunning to exploit the gullible?  It is a question that has become even more pronounced now that the Paths of Divinity have once more opened up.  Why is it, so many ask, that while gods thought to be only heathen legends walk the Earth once more, all we see of our Heavenly Father are the angels that serve Him?  Why does He not descend to aid us?  Why does He not smite the wicked, the cruel gods, the demons that mock His name?  Why does He need you?  Is He too weak?  Has He grown impotent in the face of His foes?¡±

    I simply nodded my head.  Yes, those were the questions that had been plaguing me since she told me what was going on.

    ¡°God is mighty, vastly more powerful than even the mightiest of the other gods, but it is that same might that leaves him unable to intervene in the world as lesser gods do.¡±

    She paused again, her now empty fork waving in another gesture that seemed to take in most of the world around us.

    ¡°God created everything, the world, the rules that govern it, the universe it exists in, the realms that surround it.  All of these were built by his power and were painstakingly assembled so as to allow a sane form of life to exist.  The problem was that for Him it was akin to building the most insanely complicated house of cards that you can imagine.

    ¡°The universe is too delicate, too fragile, for God to operate upon it.  He would be like a giant in a world made of sugar glass, His every movement, His every step, destroying the world around Him simply through the weight of His existence.

    ¡°That is why He created angels in the first place, they were meant to be tools that He could use to affect the universe without bringing it crashing down about Him.  In time, though, he saw that his angels were gaining an existence of their own, and he came to regard them as his children rather than just his instruments.

    ¡°Regardless, that is why God needs to work through servants and agents.  His own power is what restrains Him.¡±

    That . . . made a certain level of sense.  Once the gods returned various other religions had seen a serious uptick in recruitment.  When demons and angels made their appearances Christianity and the various religions that worshipped God had been vindicated in their faith.  It had left a large number of questions though, questions which the immortals were frustratingly reticent in answering.  For example, many gods were supremely confident in themselves, often to the point of arrogance, but even so, they had acknowledged the ¡®Creator¡¯, as the Abrahamic god was known to them, as the highest power of all.  That such power existed but was constrained in some way did do much to explain the behaviour of some of the gods that had returned.

    ¡°What about sending more angels through?  Couldn¡¯t he help that way?¡±

    ¡°The same problem applies, to a certain degree.  Creation exists in a certain state of balance, and if He does certain things then that balance can be disrupted.  Demons can access the mortal realm on their own by circumventing certain laws that bind them.  However, if God were to send armies to the mortal plane this would create an imbalance that the demons could exploit to bring over even greater numbers of their own.  That is why the numbers and potency of the angels that are on the world are limited, to deny the demonic forces an avenue of entry that could reduce the mortal world to one huge battlefield.¡±

    I frowned, something not adding up.

    ¡°But demons come here anyway; there was that mess in southern Brazil a couple of weeks back!  Surely that isn¡¯t something that they can just do whenever they want, right?¡±

    She shook her head.

    ¡°As I said, they are bound by a number of limitations, but there are ways that they can circumvent them.  Mortals can call to demons, invited them over, give them a path that they can follow.  There have always been those that are willing to sell anything in order to gain something, even family members, or their very souls.  Depending upon the nature of the invitation, the quality of the path made, and the size of the opening, the number of demons that could make use of it could be enormous.

    ¡°Angels can also be summoned in this way, but the rituals needed are far more complicated, mostly to protect the mortals that might use them.  Heaven has no desire to harm those that call upon them, a limitation that the demons do not share.  Along with several other factors, this means that it is easier for the demons to utilize these extra options than it is for the forces of Heaven, meaning that they are limited in what forces they can send to aid here.¡±

    She brought up a fist to gently thump herself on the chest.

    ¡°Resurrected souls such as myself are different in that it is easier to send us to the mortal plane than it is to send an angel.  Since we were once naturally of it we have a lesser impact upon the world by returning, even with the powers that we have gained.¡±

    ¡°Are all the returned heroes resurrected by God then?¡±

    ¡°No, many are, but there are other forces at work as well, and they wish to bring their own champions to bear upon the world once more.¡±

    That led to another question that I really wanted the answer to.

    ¡°So . . . what are the other gods?  Were they created by God too, or are they something else?¡±

    By now much of the food was gone, and I was starting to feel far more comfortable, the emptiness in my stomach pleasantly filled.  I was actually starting to feel rather lethargic, but I was trying to ignore it for the moment, this was something I really wanted to know.

    ¡°It is . . . difficult to explain.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°Do you know what the gods say of the matter themselves?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°They¡¯ve all got their own mythologies.  Like the Greek gods say they came from Gaea and Uranus, or the Viking gods say that some celestial cow licked the first god into a form or something like that.  Ummm, wasn¡¯t there one pantheon that was born from a turtle laying an egg, or something?¡±

    That got a chuckle out of her.

    ¡°No, Adam.  I think that you might be incorrect on that last one.  Still, you are correct in that the different pantheons and groups of divinities each have their own tales and pasts.  The thing is that the gods are not entirely wrong in what they claim as their history.¡±

    She paused, her forehead creasing in thought for a moment.

    ¡°The gods are not like the angels in that they were deliberately created for a purpose.  Nor are they like the demons that were once angels, but fell from grace.  In truth, they have more in common with the demons that are created naturally by the environment of Hell in that they are beings born from their environment.¡±

    ¡°The gods are demons?¡±

    That didn¡¯t sound right.  Sure, a handful of the deities that had returned to Earth had proven themselves to be monsters at worst, and simply colossal assholes at best, but there didn¡¯t seem to be the sheer malice that the demons were becoming well known for.

    ¡°No, demons are born from the very essence of hell; the gods are born from completely different sources.

    ¡°It is . . . difficult to explain.  All of the gods are tied to some aspect of the universe, the older ones even moreso.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then continued.

    ¡°Many religions and myths have a manifestation of the primal beginnings of Creation, an elder god or progenitor.  These older gods are . . . reflections, shadows, or facets, not the actual source of it.  Certain aspects of existences were so powerful that they gave rise to aspects of themselves that were alive in their own right.  For example, there is the original void from which all were born.  It is expressed in different ways in different mythologies and gave rise to incarnations, such as the Babylonian goddess Tiamat, the Greek void Khaos or the Norse ice giant Ymir.

    ¡°These older gods gave rise to younger deities, divinities that were closely tied to the emerging land, divinities that were influenced by the emergence of humanity.  Those younger gods were closer to humanity, they were both the shapers of mortal civilizations, and the ones that were shaped by them.  Gods such as Odin or Zeus formed alongside humanity, they did not create it.  They did influence them though, and it was from those influences that many of the myths of Creation arose.¡±

    Huh, I guess that answered some of my questions.  Still, I had so many that hadn¡¯t been answered yet, like what the truth was about the Devil, how were souls divided up in the afterlife, who got to choose which souls were good or bad, so many questions.

    But you know what, by that point, I think my brain had just about all the world-shaking revelations it could handle.  For the time being I was going to content myself with what I had learnt about God, angels, returned souls and the other gods.  There¡¯d be more later, I was sure, but for now, it was more than enough.

    I looked down at my plate to see that the food was almost all gone, but there were still plenty of leftovers on the table.  Easily enough for a decent meal later.

    ¡°Are we saving the leftovers for tomorrow?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Mais non, I do not believe they will last until tomorrow.¡± Joan replied, her smile just a bit unsettling.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± My confusion was completely genuine. ¡°You¡¯re planning to have it for supper?¡±

    ¡°No, you will be eating it for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Dinner?  But what was this?¡±

    ¡°Lunch.¡±

    ¡°Are you kidding, I¡¯m stuffed!  I probably won¡¯t be eating supper!¡±

    ¡°Oh, do not worry.  You will be working it off and gaining an appetite soon. Je suis s?r.¡±

    Why was it that those words filled me with near existential fear?

 Chapter 7: Further Lessons: Part Two

    ¡°Have you heard anything from Adam yet?¡±

    Chris asked the question, even though he wasn¡¯t really expecting the answer to have changed.

    ¡°No, nothing.  I suppose it hasn¡¯t been long enough yet.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  I suppose it¡¯s too soon for him to have got settled yet, wherever he is.¡±

    ¡°How are you and Doug doing?¡±

    ¡°About as well as you could expect.  This really came out of nowhere, you know?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think I¡¯ve got some idea.¡±

    The sardonic tone brought a small smile to Chris¡¯ lips as he shifted his weight in his chair.

    ¡°Okay.  Well, if I hear anything. I¡¯ll get back to you right away.¡±

    ¡°You do that.  If we hear from Adam, we¡¯ll let you know.¡± There was a pause.  ¡°It¡¯s good to hear from you, and it¡¯s good to know others care about him.  You boys take care of yourselves, okay?¡±

    Amanda¡¯s warm voice sent a pleasant shiver down the young man¡¯s spine.  Damn it!  Why did his friend¡¯s mum have to be so attractive?  Every time Chris met her or talked to her he was all too aware that Adam¡¯s mother ticked all the boxes for his type.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll make sure to eat something besides takeout.¡± He assured her.

    ¡°Good.  Well, I hope to hear from you soon.  Goodbye.¡±

    ¡°Bye.¡±

    Leaning back in his chair Chris spun to face his desk and put his phone to charge.  Once he saw that the bar was filling up his eyes turned to his computer, and he idly reached out to click on a page that caught his attention.

    //THE NEW WORLD: NEW DEMIGODS//

    It was the title of the forum page that he was currently reading.  Only trusted sources were able to post on the site, and it wasn¡¯t open to replies, so the chatter on it was all but non-existent.  All of that added up to a pretty solid reputation and made it a favourite for those that wanted to keep track of newly emerging supernatural events.  The page he was on was specific to newly emerging demigods, and he idly read the latest posts, looking for any hint of his missing friend.

    //CONFIRMED LEGACY OF NEPER!

    //Submitted by RedSandyBoy (Confirmed Civil Servant)

    //Yesterday evening the people Australia gave a big cheer when Joseph Redmont received a government-approved licence to maintain the fields that he recently raised.

    //Okay, so I don¡¯t know what you guys in the rest of the world know, but things here in Straya things have been a bit tense since the spirits of the Dreamtime started to show up.  For those of you not in the know, the Dreamtime spirits aren¡¯t like the gods.  They don¡¯t have human-like bodies you can talk to or interact with.  They¡¯re more like friendly sentient storms of magic, living natural parts of the world.  Luckly they haven¡¯t been hostile, but they haven¡¯t been happy about how things have changed.

    //To make things short, they ended up taking over lots of land and getting several communities that follow old aborigine ways of living up and running.  Anyway, heaps of people ended up joining up, all stoked with the idea of being true blue Australians and all that.  That wasn¡¯t so bad, and most of the land that got claimed was either in the Outback or the bush, but then we ended up losing a big patch of farmlands in northwest.

    //Don¡¯t get me wrong, it wasn¡¯t a national disaster or anything like that, but it did mean plenty of people were going to have to be tightening their belts.  Stuff getting pricier, that sort of thing.

    //Joe¡¯s solving that.  Since he¡¯s a Legacy of Neper he can make fields of stuff grow, ripen and be ready for harvest in just a few days.  In case you don¡¯t know, Neper is an Egyptian god of grain.  There¡¯s a whole thing about him being tied to Osiris, being an aspect of him and other stuff, but I only know the basics.  What is confirmed is that Joe¡¯s not much of a fighter, but he can do some pretty impressive stuff with fields and agriculture.

    //Apparently Nepper gave his boy a magic hoe as proof of their relation and to give him a power boost.  Ripper for us I guess, since it helps Joe with his fields.  Word is that he¡¯s cut some deal with some companies so that they¡¯re supplied with what they need, even after losing those fields.

    //That¡¯s it for now.  Hope you all enjoyed this update from down under.//

    Chris smiled at the idea of a demigod using their powers so peacefully.  If Adam ended up with powers over plants and stuff then he could see his best friend doing something similar.  The same was true of other powers, like earth-moving or teleporting.  Adam could make any of them into a business, one that would probably do well.

    What Chris couldn¡¯t see was his friend being a warrior or any sort of fighter.  Sure, Adam could get mad if you pushed him far enough, but he wasn¡¯t aggressive, never one to pick a fight.  Maybe the next article, one that had only been posted a few hours ago.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    //MURDERS IN MEXICO CITY CONFIRMED AS THE WORK OF A DEMIGOD!

    //Submitted by GatoDelgado97 (Confirmed Journalist)

    //Hola my friends.  I wish I could be bringing you better news, but it turns out that the serial killer that has been cutting out hearts in my home city has been confirmed as a demigod.

    //In case it has not made the news where you are from over the last week there have been a string of murders her in Mexico City.  Not just any killings either, these have been bad ones.  The victims have been staked down, spikes driven through their hands and feet, then had their hearts torn out.  Torn, not cut, the work on the bodies showed that whoever did this managed it with their bare hands, no tools.

    //Of course, that was not enough to confirm it was a demigod, but last night the police were able to catch the murderer in the act.  It did not go well for them though.  Of the seven officers on the scene three are dead, two in critical condition, and the last two are still in hospital.  The murderer used powerful fireballs to drive the police off, destroying two cars and starting a fire in nearby building before escaping.  He is confirmed to have been able to take gunfire without apparent injury, and during the fight he called out to Huitzilopochtli, claiming him as his father.

    //To be clear, Huitzilopochtli was one of the most important gods of the old Aztec culture, and was one of the gods that received human sacrifices.  He was not an evil god though, he fought against endless night and the sacrifices made to him were meant to give him the strength to make the sun rise each day.

    //Things are tense in the city right now, though there is talk that another demigod might hunt him down.  We will have to wait and see.

    //Adios, please wish us luck.//

    The darker tone of the entry left a bad taste in Chis¡¯ mouth.  It was an all too sharp reminder that there were just as many demigods going wild with their new powers as there were those that tried to be heroes or just productive members of society.  The notion of a serial killer with literally superhuman powers was . . . disturbing on a visceral level.

    Was that what Adam was going to have to deal with?  The thought came to him as he reread the short article.  Joan of Arc had been sent to take him, Joan of Arc!  When you thought about it there was no way that someone with one of the most famed saints in the world as a bodyguard would just be growing crops or running mines.

    Biting his lip, he read the next post.

    //CANADIAN DEMIGOD KILLS HELLHOUND!

    //Submitted by BlueBillyBlue52 (Confirmed EMT)

    //Things got pretty hectic this morning at the hospital where I worked.  Normally I wouldn¡¯t be able to talk about it, confidentiality, but since it¡¯s going to be in the news soon it should be okey.

    //This morning, not ten minutes after I got to work, we had a sudden rush as more than twenty people were all brought in at once.  There was a lot of rushing around, getting things ready, helping those that needed it.  All in all, it was probably the most stressful hour I¡¯ve ever had to deal with.  Still, once things settled down, we were finally able to get the whole story.

    //A major highway was turned into a battlefield when a black dog the size of an elephant suddenly attacked a truck.  The sudden upending of the trailer caused a massive pileup across multiple lanes, and ended up with nearly twenty cars crashing, and many more only just avoiding major collisions.

    //That would have been bad enough, but the massive dog started going after people, tearing cars open like tin cans to get at them.  Seven people were killed and about a dozen maimed in barely a minute, and it sounds like it would have been more if the demigod hadn¡¯t shown up.

    //We don¡¯t strictly know that she is a demigod, she hasn¡¯t regained consciousness due to the injuries she took while bringing the dog down.  Still, she was tough enough to wrestle down and break the neck of a monster that could¡¯ve used my ride as a chew-toy, so the general assumption is that she¡¯s a demigod.  I heard that the police are trying to identify her, but so far nothing has come up.

    She hasn¡¯t bounced back from her wounds, even if she isn¡¯t in danger.  The docs that took a look at her say she¡¯s stable, even though she shouldn¡¯t be, not with the damage she¡¯s taken.  Anyway, there¡¯s been no luck identifying her, so she might be one of those demigods that ended up with new looks after gaining her powers.

    //Whoever she is though there are a lot of people alive who wouldn¡¯t be if she hadn¡¯t been there, so I¡¯m putting her here and request that the mods post this article to the heroes¡¯ section.

    //She deserves it.//

    This was the stuff that Adam was going to get involved in?  This was the stuff that was going to drag him in?

    Chris found that far from distracting himself he was just worrying himself deeper and deeper into a mental hole.  Trying to distract himself again he clicked back to the main page, looking at the titles of the articles that had most recently been updated.

    >Demigods being abducted, truth or rumour?

    >Diplomatic developments between China and Japan!

    >New product line from Olympus Industries, sneak preview!

    >Rumours of elves seen in central Europe!

    >Supernatural bar being opened in Paris!

    >Applicant to join the Round Table!

    So many things going on, the world seemed to change so fast, and it all seemed so . . .daunting all of a sudden.

    Chris let out a snort as he leaned back in his seat, staring up at the white plaster of his ceiling.  Daunting . . . two days ago it hadn¡¯t been daunting.  If anything, it had been kind of cool.  He had the advantage of having lived in a quiet corner of the country, a country with some of the best supernatural protection in the world.  He¡¯d been able to watch the chaos the rest of the world was having to deal with while his small corner of it was relatively untouched.  Sure, there¡¯d been some things, like the angel and demon duking it out near the town, but even that had passed him by.

    Now . . . now it seemed all too real.  Adam wasn¡¯t someone on the TV, someone from some town Chris had never heard of.  He was the guy that had helped Chris when he¡¯d been suffering from food poisoning and had puked up over his bed.  He was the guy Chris had set up on a blind date with his sister, even if it hadn¡¯t been a success.  Adam was real, he was a part of Chris¡¯ life.

    And now he was going to be a demigod.

    Twisting on his swivel chair he turned away from his computer.  He didn¡¯t want to stare at his computer anymore, each title, each link, just led to more worries.

    Adam was with Joan of Arc, that had to count for something, right?  A hero resurrected by the heavens to help in the mortal realm couldn¡¯t be some sort of pushover.  Surely, she¡¯d be able to keep him safe, right?

    Chris had a general idea of how strong resurrected souls could be, King Arthur was a prime example of them.  With someone like that in his corner, Adam was sure to be safe.  Yeah, he¡¯d be fine, there was nothing to worry about.

    Now. . . why did that last thought stubbornly refuse to feel real?

 Chapter 7: Further Lessons: Part Three

    Healing magic really was the greatest thing in the universe!

    Of course, that sentiment might have something to do with the fact that Joan had just healed the arm I¡¯d managed to break.

    Pain was something I was getting more familiar with, but I was still having trouble dealing with it.  Bruises and cuts I was able to power through, but when my arm had broken all the fight had gone out of me.

    Maybe I was being unrealistic.  After all, most of the images I had of people powering through with broken arms or severe wounds came from things like Hollywood blockbusters.  Even so, I found myself frustrated at the way I¡¯d become utterly useless after my arm broke.

    It had all happened so quickly.  My protector had told me that I had become proficient enough in the basics of my defence.  So, a new dimension could be added to my training, namely being able to move around.  Up until now, I had trained by staying in one spot, my feet firmly planted in one place.  Now I was being taught the basics of how to move while defending myself.  It had been hard, keeping my balance while sidestepping, backing off, even jumping back was not something that came easily to me, and I had gone down several times.

    This last time though I had managed to make such a mess of it that I think it could almost be considered an achievement.  As I fell I somehow managed to get my left arm tangled up with the sword.  Had it been edged then I would have ended up slicing myself open.  As it was my arm wanted to go one way, but physics, my body weight and kinetic energy all ensured that the sword had to go in another direction.  Something had to give, and in the end, my bones weren¡¯t as tough as the metal of the sword.

    So yeah, my arm broke, and it hurt like hell.

    All of that led me back to my decision, namely that even if I gained the power to cause the finest of chocolate fudge cakes to appear out of thin air I would still consider healing to be the most awesome skill in the world.  With just a touch and a small effort of will Joan was able to get my arm back in working order and make the pain fade away.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°You are welcome.¡±

    Joan stood up from where she had been kneeling and glanced up at the sky.  I had no talent for using the sun to read the time, but even I could tell that it was getting late in the day.

    ¡°Let us call that enough for today.  You have worked hard, and I think that if you push yourself any further then you will be losing ground rather than gaining any more.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t about to argue against that.  Even though my physical injuries were gone I still felt as though my brain had been fed through a wringer.  I wasn¡¯t going to learn anything if we kept on going, it just wouldn¡¯t stick.  I was just too tired mentally and physically.

    ¡°Shall we grab something to eat?¡±

    This was more a formality than a genuine question, we both knew that I was going to stuff my face.  It was pretty much obligatory after one of these training sessions.  She must have felt the same way because she didn¡¯t reply, she just nodded her head and walked back towards the farmstead.  I followed behind her, then went up to my room as she went into the kitchen.

    As I stepped into the farmhouse it had occurred to me that the roles we¡¯d each fallen into in the house were almost comically sexist when taken out of context.  I was expecting her to work in the kitchen and get a meal ready for me while I showered after getting back from work.

    Of course, the truth wasn¡¯t anywhere near so cut and dried.  The simple fact was that after training I barely had the energy needed to just drag myself up the stairs to my room, let alone actually make anything more sophisticated than a boiled egg if I pushed it.  Joan, thanks to the supernatural vitality that powered her, could happily spend the whole day beating me black and blue and still be fresh as a daisy.  And I meant that literally, by the end of one of our little sessions, I was normally covered in dirt, blood and bruises and stinking of sweat, whereas my instructor would be pristine and not even have broken into a light sweat.

    And, to top it all off the resurrected saint was perfectly capable of kicking my ass six ways from Sunday, and I bloody well knew it.  Sexism was a laughable concept when you were well aware of where you stood compared

    With an ease that was growing practised, I had a quick shower, dried off and changed clothes.  The healing had helped, and now the only ache I had to deal with was that of muscles recovering after being pushed.  It was painful, but I could get where fitness addicts came from when they talked about a ¡®good pain¡¯.

    Once again, when I got downstairs I found the table laden with food, this time it was a large fish rather than chicken, but as hungry as I was feeling I wasn¡¯t going to be picky.  As had become the habit between us after saying grace the first few minutes of the meal were eaten in silence as I did my best to quieten the stomach that had started to growl as soon as I laid eyes on the spread.  While I did so I tried to think of what we could talk about.

    Joan didn¡¯t have any problems answering my questions, and some of the stuff I was learning would have sent researchers about the world into frothing frenzies.  I¡¯d learnt things about God, heaven, demigods, all sorts of stuff.  In a way, I¡¯d come to see these conversations as something of a reward for making it through the day, and I treasured the knowledge she shared with me.

    Still, I didn¡¯t want to turn our meal into an interrogation.  I preferred it to be a conversation, though the problem was getting that conversation started.

    Actually, there was something I¡¯d been meaning to ask her about.  I hadn¡¯t had too much time to think about it.  In fact, it still didn¡¯t seem very real, but in about a week or so I was going to have to . . . what?  Become a champion of Heaven here on Earth?  Fight the rogue gods that were causing general mayhem and chaos?  Take down the demigods that were running rampant with no regard as to the consequences of their actions?

    ¡°Hey, were you scared?¡±

    As I asked the question Joan looked up at me, her question clear on her face.

    ¡°When you got told that you were going to have to help save France, were you scared?  I¡¯m still trying to wrap my head around what you told me, and if I weren¡¯t so tired from your training I think I¡¯d curl up into a ball and start crying with fear.¡±

    ¡°I . . . I was very much afraid, the first time I heard the voice of Lord Michael speaking to me,¡± Joan admitted, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she remembered. ¡°When I first heard him I feared that I was losing my mind.  I was just a common peasant girl, the daughter of a minor village official, who was I to be worthy of the attention of one of God¡¯s angels?  However, the voice continued to speak to me, I came to believe that this voice was not merely the creation of my own mind.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°He told me things that I did not know, things that I could not know.  Then I thought that perhaps it was a demon that spoke to me, seeking to lure me onto a path of hubris and sin.  But the things that he told me were not of malice or sin, instead, they were kind words, sorrowful words. He told me of the pitiful state of my country, of how the king was in dire need of aid to secure his crown, and of how it had to be me that would right what was wrong.¡±

    She paused for a moment, looking back at me.

    ¡°I spent days denying it, fearing that I was simply some mad girl that was hearing the voices of her secret wishes.  But then I overheard the merchants that came through our villages.  What they said . . . it confirmed what the voice had told me, and I could no longer deny it.  I went to the garden of my father, and I told the voice that I believed.¡±

    A smile spread across her face, one that was somehow happy and a bit sad.

    ¡°It was there that I saw Lord Michael and the saints that were to guide me for the first time.  They appeared to me after I accepted the task that had been laid upon me and told me that I was making the right choice.  They were all so beautiful that it made me weep with joy to be able to see them, and then weep with sadness when they had to leave.  The next day I set out to try to secure an armed escort to take me to the French royal court.  I failed the first time, being unable to convince the commander of the genuine nature of my need, but was able to convince some lesser officers of the truth of my claims, and was able to speak to the commander a second time.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know this one,¡± I said, feeling oddly pleased to be able to show off my own knowledge. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that one of the first miracles you did, knowing the outcome of a battle you had no way of knowing, and days before official word arrived?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± she agreed. ¡°Saints Catherine and Margaret spoke to me, just as lord Michael said they would.  They told me which words to use, and by their aid, I was able to convince commander Baudricourt to grant me an escort to Chinon, to the king¡¯s court.¡±

    ¡°Were you scared then?¡±

    ¡°Of course, I was.  Adam, I was simply some country girl that had somehow managed to make her way to court.  Charles was the king of my country, or he would be once he was crowned.  How could I not have been scared?  I knew that the saints would guide me, but even so, I could not help but think of all the ways in which I could have made a mistake.  All the things I could have said wrong, all the actions I might have taken that could lead to disaster.  When it was finally time to speak to him, I thought that my voice would fail me.¡±

    She paused again, then looked at me.

    ¡°I put all my trust in my faith, in my trust that God would not have set me a task that I was unequal for.  I heeded the council of the saints that spoke to me, and I spoke with all the fervour and conviction that my faith bestowed upon me.  That was how I overcame my fear.  But that is not the right path for you, is it?¡±

    Her question wasn¡¯t an accusation; though it could have been had she altered her tone even slightly.  Instead, it was kind, and warm in a way that I would have expected from someone much older than her apparent age.

    ¡°Am I that obvious?¡±

    I tried, but some of my irritation at myself must have slipped into my tone because Joan frowned at me.  That just made me feel a bit worse.  I¡¯d asked her how she dealt with her fear because I was still having trouble dealing with my own.  Fear at my situation, fear at what was to come.

    The fact was that I couldn¡¯t help but feel frustrated with myself.  I was meant to be a demigod, the child of a divine being.  More than that I was meant to be a powerful one, powerful enough that God, with the capital ¡®G¡¯ himself, had sent Joan of Arc to help me.  JOAN OF ARC!  But . . . I was just a normal guy; I didn¡¯t feel equal to this.  Actually, I didn¡¯t think I could think I was up to it without suffering from megalomania.  But even so, I felt as though I should be more.  Braver, smarter, stronger, just better.  Instead, I was scared that I wouldn¡¯t be able to measure up.

    ¡°Adam, there should be no shame in feeling daunted by the future that faces you.  Only a fool or a madman would see what is to come and be uncaring of it.  You feel fear because you can grasp the scope of what is asked of you.  You understand the seriousness of what you face.  Feel no shame in that, instead take pride in it, know that it is the response of a sane and rational person.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s rational because I don¡¯t think I¡¯m up to it,¡± I admitted. ¡°Joan, I¡¯ve heard about some of the stuff that¡¯s going on in the world.  Problems are popping up where no one¡¯s expecting them.  Things like the Nemean Lion in Australia, gods and demigods fighting as warlords in Africa, that small town in China just disappearing overnight, angels and demons spotted fighting each other here in Europe and leaving loads of damage in their wake.  And I¡¯m the guy that¡¯s meant to deal with it all?  How?  How can I possibly face all that?  It¡¯s . . . it¡¯s all just too big!¡±

    ¡°Have faith, Adam.  God would not set this task upon us if either one of us were unequal to it.  You shall come into your power, and you shall be a match for what is asked of you.  And you need not fear facing it alone, I shall help you, and I am certain I shall not be the only one to offer my aid.  Others shall come, others that wish to aid this world, to tend the wounds that mar it.  You shall not be alone, this I can promise you.  Have faith.¡±

    From someone else that advice could have come across as something of a meaningless platitude.  I was never a really religious guy, and I¡¯d always found it easier to have faith in things like law and society than in concepts such as God.  I had sort of nebulously believed in him, but it had been in the same way you believed in the existence of galaxies or black holes.  You trusted that what you¡¯d read about them was correct, and accepted that the concept of them made sense.  It was murkier than that, but it was the same general sort of thing.  I believed in God, but as this far away indistinct presence that didn¡¯t really impact my daily life all that much.

    But when Joan told me to have faith, for the first time in ages I actually felt like I might want to.

    ¡°Did God really set me on this?  Did he really know that I was going to be alive now and that I would be needed?¡±

    ¡°God does possess what we mortals would call omniscience,¡± My teacher said, ¡°However, he also gifted mankind with free will.  Free will can defy sight into the future, but even so, fate and destiny are real forces in the world.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait!  Hold on a second.¡± I interrupted her, confusion colouring my tone and most likely showing on my face. ¡°How does that work?  If fate and destiny are real then doesn¡¯t that mean that everything is already all set-out?  Wouldn¡¯t that mean that free will was just an illusion?  And aren¡¯t fate and destiny the same thing?¡±

    ¡°To a degree, their natures overlap, but they are also distinct in very clear ways.  Also, they are not mutually exclusive with free will, however, the abilities of mortals to fully understand such forces is incomplete.  Those mortals that have gained some glimpses into their nature can only view them in reference to linear time, but their true natures transcend the temporal concepts that exist in this plane.  Do not ask me to explain it, that was one of the memories that were taken from me before my incarnation in order to safeguard my sanity, but I can remember the notion of their nature, if not the nature itself.  Fate, Freewill and destiny all exist in concert, and God can use them to see into possibilities and potentials of the future.

    ¡°That is how He knows that you have the potential to rise to the tasks to come.  He has faith in you, Adam, have faith in that.¡±

    ¡°You really think so?¡±

    I felt foolish, like a child seeking reassurance by asking his mother to repeat her earlier encouragement to him, but even so, I wanted to hear it again.  I wanted to hear that she, Joan of Arc, a saint chosen by God himself, thought that I, Adam West, mister ordinary and hiking enthusiast, might be up to standing shoulder to shoulder with the forces that were rocking the world.

    ¡°Yes Adam, I do.¡±

    And just like that, I felt the knot in my belly loosen slightly.  To be sure, it wasn¡¯t gone, but I felt better if only a little bit.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    She nodded in response, that light smile on her lips again.

    The rest of the evening was spent companionably enough.  I taught her how to play dominos, given that someone had supplied her with a set.  It wasn¡¯t quite as much fun with just the two of us, but it made for a fairly decent evening, and I didn¡¯t have to move about too much.  Afterwards, I showed her how to make a line of dominos and then knock them over.  That was more fun, and we spent almost as much time setting them up in different ways, and then knocking them over, as we did playing with them as a proper game.  In the end, I went to bed with a smile on my face.

    It had been fun, a light-hearted fun that I hadn¡¯t experienced with Joan before.  My last thought, before I drifted off to sleep, was to think that she had a nice laugh, very musical.  She really should laugh more.

 Chapter 8: Fallibility: Part One

    Chapter 8: Fallibility

    ¡°You have found them?¡±

    The voice that spoke was weak, drained by the amount of blood they had let out of their veins over the past few days, but even so, it carried a distinct note of authority.

    ¡°Yes, I have only their general area, but every moment we can hold the spell brings me closer to locating them.¡±

    The replying voice was that of a man, in his early middle years, perhaps just exiting his prime.  He was tall, with a long unkempt mop of black hair, eyes the colour of old wood, and a well-muscled body that was displayed by his shirtless state.  Deep scars were carved into his bare arms and chest and stood out against his pale skin, silent testimonies to some past horror that he had been forced to endure.  He stood before the robed figure, uncaring of the cold of the stone room in which they stood.

    ¡°How long do you think it will be before you can narrow it down?¡±

    ¡°Only a handful of days.  In less than a week we shall have their location and will be able to take action.  Be assured, no further effort upon your part is needed, the power and blood that you have already given me are more than enough to sustain the spell to its end.¡±

    The robed figure nodded from where they sat, slumped in a wicker chair that was the room¡¯s only furniture.  As before the robes obscured all their features, leaving no hint as to their appearance, age, or even their gender.  Even their voice gave nothing away, distorted as it was by both cloth and magic.

    On hearing the man¡¯s words the robed figure nodded, thankful that progress had been made in the advance of their patron¡¯s agenda.  Powerful though they might be by mortal standards they were still well aware of how tiny they were in comparison to the being that had enabled their rise to power.  Disappointing such a being could only lead to ruin, given how capricious they could be.

    Well, at least with this latest development they would hopefully be satisfied.  After the trail of Yahweh¡¯s agent had been lost, much pressure had been placed upon the two of them to find it once more, but that was only to be expected.  The demigod that the heavenly agent had found was meant to be one of the most powerful in the world, at least potentially.  Such potential power could be either an obstacle or an asset, so the demigod needed to be recruited, controlled or eliminated.

    That thought brought the slumped figure out of their musings.  The demigod would need to be acquired, though hopefully, it would be with their cooperation.  Still, there was a chance that force would be required if the demigod proved to be . . . difficult.  Force would require forces, and forces needed to be built, recruited and amassed.  This was in no way unexpected though, and the robe wearer had already made preparations in regard to such a need.  In fact . . .

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Then there shall be no need for my aid tomorrow?¡±

    The question seemed to startle the man, and he took a few moments to reply.

    ¡°No, there should be no such need.¡±

    ¡°Splendid, then that means I can conclude some business that I have been unable to attend to the last few days.¡±

    The scarred man looked up at the seated figure, caught by surprise by the sheer excitement in their voice.  The robe-clad magic user almost always refrained from any sort of overt emotional display.  However, on this occasion, something had slipped past that iron control.

    ¡°What do you need to do?¡±

    ¡°A delivery was made for me in the local town a few days ago.  Occupied as we have been I was unable to attend to it, but now that I am no longer needed I can make arrangements for collection.¡±

    ¡°Why not have it delivered?¡±

    ¡°Given its nature, it would be impossible to deliver by normal means, it¡¯s just too heavy.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The scarred man sounded genuinely confused. ¡°Just how much does this acquisition of yours weigh?¡±

    ¡°Oh, somewhere between fifteen and twenty tonnes.¡±

    Silence took the room as the dark-haired man simply stared at his fellow magic user.

    ¡°What could you possibly have found that¡¯s that heavy?¡±

    ¡°As you know, before the Black Sun I had used much of my wealth to acquire artefacts with a reputation for power,¡± The self-satisfaction in the robed figure''s voice was clear for any to hear. ¡°After the return of the Legends some treasures and artefacts regained the power they lost after magic ebbed from the world.  A small number of such artefacts were in my possession, and it was those trinkets that originally attracted our patron¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Since governments everywhere have been doing all that they can to seize anything that has any power, just as the emerging demigods and Legacies have been, gaining new assets for myself has been difficult.   However, a month ago a contact of mine informed me that a major find had been made in the Middle East, one that they were willing to hide and have sent to me . . . if the price was right.¡±

    The robed figure paused, then laboriously got out of the chair and stood up.

    ¡°I am wealthy, but the amount of money I paid for this artefact would have been enough to buy this castle in its entirety, twice over.  However, I am quite certain it will be worth it, especially in the mission that is to come.¡±

    The concealed magic user didn¡¯t say anything else; they simply moved to the door and left the room.  For a moment the scarred man watched the door as it slowly swung closed, then he turned back to his work.  The work that occupied the centre of the very large stone-floored room.  Were someone to study it in any close detail they would have noted that the floor was not composed of tiles or blocks mortared together.  Instead, it appeared to be all made from a single massive slab of stone.  There were no cracks, no joinings, no connections, nothing but smooth stone across the entire floor.

    Upon that stone surface was a large diagram.  It would have been hard to make it out against the dark colour of the stone under normal circumstances, given that it was written out in the red-brown of drying blood.  The design was a strange mixture of geometric patterns and ancient runes.  At the centre of the large mandala of dried blood was a silver bowl filled with mercury.  Strangely its surface was not still even though it rested upon the stone floor.  Instead, the liquid metal rippled and churned, as though something within it was thrashing about and disturbing it.

    The scarred man knew that bowl well.  After all, he had spent the last few hours staring into it, trying to force the visions that rippled across the mirrored surface of the quicksilver to make some sort of sense.  As of yet, his efforts had not yielded the results he sought, but every passing moment fed more magic into the spell he had crafted and brought the images into greater clarity.

    At this point, it was just a matter of time.

 Chapter 8: Fallibility: Part Two

    I bit back a curse as I hit the ground again, this time the impact enough to make my teeth rattle in my mouth.  My shoulder hurt from where it had hit the dirt, but I knew I didn¡¯t have any time to dwell on it.  Instead, I rolled to the side as fast as I could.  The foot that stamped down on the spot where my stomach had been just a second ago proved that I¡¯d made the right choice.  Without hesitation I swung the sword I still clutched in my hands at the foot, trying to catch it on the ankle, but it stepped back too quickly for my wild stroke to hit home.

    No matter, I hadn¡¯t thought I¡¯d be able to hit in any case, the attempt had only been to get myself some room.  Using the tiny break in my attacker¡¯s assault I tried to scramble to my feet.  ¡®Tried¡¯ being the operative word, because just as I got my feet under me, the tip of my foe¡¯s wooden sword came down and struck me hard enough on the side of the neck that I could feel a welt starting to swell.

    ¡°And now you are dead, your head struck from your body and decorating the battlefield.¡±

    I sighed in frustration, then winced in pain as I heaved myself up to a standing position.  For a moment I was tempted to stab my sword into the ground again and use it as a leaning post, but my head was still ringing from the earful I¡¯d received from Joan for disrespecting my weapon.

    ¡°You performed better, but you were too eager to regain your feet.  When you are on your back like that, your priority should be to put as much distance between you and your foe as you can as fast as you can.  There are ways to distance yourself even as you bring yourself up; I will show them to you later.¡±

    I nodded, glad to hear some encouragement.  Honestly, despite the way things had ended up I was quite pleased with myself.  This last session had been one of my best ones yet.  I hadn¡¯t even lasted half a minute, but that was because Joan was holding back less now.  I knew that I was a long way from her getting her to put any real effort into it, but any kind of progress was a good thing.

    I tried to straighten up, but a twinge in my ribs made me wince.  I didn¡¯t think that there was anything broken, but given time I would most likely be sporting some truly spectacular bruises.  Joan must have seen it though because her hand touched my shoulder and the now familiar sensation of her healing magic flowed into me.

    ¡°That will be enough for today.  Get inside and cleanse yourself, then you can have what remains of the day to yourself, we shall have many things to get ready tomorrow.¡±

    Right, tomorrow was the big day!  It was crazy how fast time had passed.  It had been more than a week since I got here, but it felt like only a couple of days.

    I suppose most of that was due to how similar and intense those days had been.  Each day I did the same thing, had gruelling training with Joan, got healed, ate a big meal, and then repeated it all twice more.  Each day I worked myself to mental and physical exhaustion, then collapsed into bed and was out like a light.  I was pushing myself harder than I ever had before.  That was probably why the days were all just blurring together.

    Sitting down on the dirt I let the blunted sword I was holding fall across my lap.  This time last week the sword would have felt uncomfortably heavy, now though, I was familiar with the weight, used to swinging it around, to bracing it, to stabbing with it, to blocking with it.  All that effort with it had left me familiar with its weight and shape in a way that I wouldn¡¯t have thought possible before.

    As I sat there and waited for my strength to return I kept thinking about how I¡¯d missed the latest release of Divine Versus.  Divine Versus was fun to read, a forum for people to discuss their opinions on the gods that had revealed themselves and how they thought they stacked up against each other.  Even as the world was rocked by the returning Legends, it was a forum where such events were reduced to a safe form of entertainment.

    Perhaps it was something like sticking your head into the sand, but it made things a bit easier to deal with.  I suppose the fact that I lived in England, under the King¡¯s protection, lent more than a bit to my sense of security.

    Now . . . now I was no longer so apart from the tribulations of the world.  In less than two days I was going to be a part of the craziness, not apart from it.  Were my thoughts drifting to such trivial stuff just another way of avoiding having to think about it?

    Uhhhh, when did my life get so complicated?  Well, that was a stupid question, I damned well knew the exact moment when things had taken a turn for the . . . exciting.  It was when I¡¯d opened my front door and saw Joan standing there.  I didn¡¯t resent her for it, but I think some part of me resented the fact that I didn¡¯t resent her if that made any sense.  I had been ripped away from a life that might have been quiet and average, but which had also been mine, and which I had imagined as secure

    As I dragged myself back into the farmstead I could hear Joan in the kitchen most likely heating some leftovers so that I could stuff myself again.  I think that my stomach might have tried to growl at the thought, but the fact was that I was just too tired to care about being hungry.  I could worry about that later, at that moment I just wanted to get to my room so I could rest on something more comfortable that the ground.  It took more effort than I would have thought, but in the end, I got myself to my room and my bed.

    Once I got there I didn¡¯t so much lie down on my bed as I simply collapsed onto it.

    I didn¡¯t even bother to take my sweat-stained clothes off.  Instead, I just fell onto the bed, my face burying itself into the pillows enjoying the sensation of not having to hold up my body weight.  The clean bed sheets beneath me were cool against my skin, and I found myself lacking even the energy to roll over.

    In the end, I think I must have dozed off because the next thing I was aware of was Joan was shaking my shoulder.

    ¡°-et up, Adam!  Come on, you cannot go to sleep in your clothes like that, just look at the mess you have made of your sheets.  Really now, get up, have a shower and get something to eat, then be sure to change those sheets before you return to sleep here tonight.  It truly is a blessing that we have this new washing device.¡±

    I¡¯ve mentioned that I have a habit of generally going from asleep straight to awake without any of the in-between stages that seem to bother most people.  That was the case on this occasion, as soon as Joan started to shake me awake.

    The problem was that I really didn¡¯t want to.

    I didn¡¯t want to wake up, I didn¡¯t want to be aware, all I wanted to do was sink back into the blissful arms of sleep and forget about the world. I just pulled the bed sheets over my head and tried to will the resurrected saint to go away.  I just wanted to go back to sleep, was that too much to ask for?

    ¡°Adam!  I have some food prepared for you, but if you want any of it then you had best see to getting yourself cleaned up!¡±

    It was at that point that my nose caught the scent of frying onions wafting up from the kitchen, and the words I had heard finally clicked into place in my mind.  Had she mentioned food?

    Any thoughts of staying in bed were rather rudely displaced as my stomach rumbled loudly, demanding to be filled.  The noise was enough to bring my attention to my belly, and it was only at that point that I realized that I was hungry.  No, calling it ¡®hungry¡¯ didn¡¯t do the sensation of emptiness in me justice; I was famished, utterly damned ravenous.

    Yeah, staying in bed really wasn¡¯t on the cards anymore.

    With a self-pitying moan, I threw off the sheets that I¡¯d tried to cocoon myself in, blearily stared at Joan and voiced my demands in an accusing growl.

    ¡°Whatever you¡¯ve made, I hope there¡¯s lots of it.¡±

    ¡°I am certain what I have made will appease that beast in your belly.¡±

    It was strange seeing the almost playful smile on her face since she was normally all business.  She wasn¡¯t harsh or uncaring though, she was just . . . unwavering.  Whether it was training me, patrolling the area, cooking food or polishing her sword it was all done as part of her overall mission, and you could practically see the devotion in her every action.  Humour and smiles weren¡¯t unknown from her, they were just rare, rare enough that seeing her grin was enough to get me moving.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I agreed grumpily as I sat up. ¡°See you downstairs in a bit?¡±

    I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I heard a soft chuckle from Joan as her footsteps left my room.  It was a pleasant sound, almost musical.  With the formal way that she spoke, never using contractions or any sort of slang, it was easy to miss just how nice a voice the resurrected soul had.

    My mood took a turn for the better when I saw the plate of beautifully browned chicken breasts waiting for me on the table, adorned with French fried onions, and several herbs.  Next to them was a large bowl of potato salad, some sort of pie that I didn¡¯t recognize, and several steamed vegetables.  The sight of it all was enough to make my stomach roar a demand for me to tuck in as soon as was humanly possible, but before heeding its demands I turned to face Joan.

    ¡°I . . .¡± I began, then paused as I realized what I was about to say. ¡°I . . . I was about to say you were an angel from heaven, but I just realized that¡¯s more of a statement of fact than a compliment!¡±

    ¡°I thank you for the compliment, Adam, but I am no angel, even though I can wield the power of one for a brief time.¡±

    At a gesture from her, I sat down at the table, rattled off a quick grace, and started to heap food onto my plate.  Feeling slightly awkward in the silence that had settled I paused in the process of shovelling food into my mouth and asked a question that had been bugging me for a while.  I hadn¡¯t asked until now because there always seemed to be something more important going on, but now things were a bit quieter, and Joan seemed to be in a good mood, so . . . why not?

    ¡°What¡¯re angels like?¡±

    The question had been one that had been bugging me more and more since I¡¯d learnt that I was at least distantly related to one.  Birimiel¡¯s famous interview had done something to dispel some of the unknowns regarding the soldiers of Heaven, but there was still so much that wasn¡¯t confirmed.  It was known how the Nephilim bloodlines had come to be, it was known how strong the angels were, it was even known that they could fall, becoming creatures even viler than demons, but that was really it.  Angels remained enigmatic.

    During the centuries when the Legends had been in exile, angels had been willing to give up their power, memories, even their very selves, to live the lives of mortals.  Surely that meant that there was something that could be held in common, something that could be understood.

    My question seemed to catch Joan slightly by surprise because she paused for a moment her eyes weighing me up before replying.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, you were in Heaven, right?  What are angels like when they¡¯re not out on duty?  You know, when they¡¯re not striking down the enemies of God, or protecting the innocent.  What¡¯re they like at home when they¡¯re just . . . like people, you know?¡±

    There was a pause as the resurrected soul seemed to be contemplating my question, and the fact that she did so made me think that the question might have a more complicated answer than I¡¯d been expecting.

    ¡°Angels . . . there are similarities with humanity, but there are also many differences.  In many ways, they have less in common with mortal men and women than the gods do, yet in other ways, they are closer to us.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re more like the gods than the angels?  I don¡¯t think I get it.¡±

    ¡°I believe this needs a bit more explanation,¡± Joan stated, leaning back in her chair a bit as she looked at me.  ¡°I believe it is a good thing that you have asked.  This is important knowledge, and I am certain that it shall be of use to you in the future.  What do you know of how the gods came to be?¡±

    Alright, that had always been a complicated question, but these days it was even worse.  With the aftermath of the Black Sun, there were loads of theories on just what the gods were.  Doctor Julian Crawford¡¯s published theory was currently the most accepted in the scientific community.  But only among those that denied the existence of magic and insisted that the powers of the supernatural were manipulations of natural forces through as-yet-unknown methods.  Most people paid more attention to info received from gods and angels that consented to interviews.

    Me, I had seen enough weird stuff on the internet to think that either there were a lot of scientific rules that humanity hadn¡¯t worked out yet, or magic could simply make physics cry in a corner whenever it wanted.  Either way, I was going to listen to the explanation given by a god to the media, rather than a theory given by an academic that hadn¡¯t spent more than ten minutes with one.  So, I repeated what I could remember from that interview.

    ¡°The gods are reflections of either natural forces or aspects of civilization that have bonded with a divine being, right?  So, Zeus is bound to the concept of the sky while Apollo is bound to things like music and medicine.  But it¡¯s kind of like the chicken and the egg problem, which comes first, the power they¡¯re bonded to, or the god that binds to it.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°That is partially correct.  The gods are reflections of certain forces, but at the same time they have existed as long as those forces have been in existence.¡±

    Again, she paused, trying to gauge my reaction, I think.

    ¡°The act of initial universal creation is a good example,¡± She continued. ¡°It was the Lord God that said, ¡®Let There Be Light¡¯ and gave rise to creation from nothingness.  But both the nothingness before and the act of creation itself existed and left powerful reverberations in the universe that arose.  Khaos of the Greeks, Brahma of the Hindus, both are examples of the Void from before Creation and the act of creation itself and have existed since those very events.¡±

    ¡°Wait, hang on a second,¡± I held up a hand in confusion. ¡°So, some of the gods have been around since the universe began?¡±

    ¡°In a certain way,¡± Joan. ¡°Their core principality, what I suppose one could call the foundation of their essence, has existed since the birth of the concept to which they are tied.  However, their identity as their current selves, the selves that have the qualities of mankind, only became a part of them after the beliefs and thoughts of mortal man gave them definition.¡±

    ¡°So . . . humanity created the gods?¡±

    It was a plot point used in many fantasy and science fiction stories, the notion that rather than the gods having created mankind, it was instead mankind that created the gods through their belief in them.  Hearing that it might be real caught me by surprise.  However, in response to my question the resurrected soul shook her head in denial.

    ¡°No.  It would be more accurate to say that mortals awakened and defined the gods, nothing more.  Their minds and personalities existed, but when humans believed in them they were given general form and mentality.  They are also influenced by their bound concept, though the level of influence varied from one god to another.¡±

    ¡°But what about gods of more human stuff?¡± I asked. ¡°Gods of music and craft, things that people invented?  They wouldn¡¯t have been hanging around since the creation of the universe.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± she agreed. ¡°Such deities were not of the primal gods that served as the ¡®first generation¡¯ but instead came later, or were those that reinvented themselves to take advantage of such changes.  By being tied to aspects of mortal life they were able to draw more power from worship or gain more influence over mortals in one way or another tied to their domain.¡±

    Again, she paused, taking a moment to sip some water before continuing.

    ¡°That is how the gods are closer to man than angels, in many ways.  The gods are humanity written large.  Humanity''s power, their passions, their virtues, their flaws, all of them are a part of the gods at some level or another.  Gods are the bridge between mortal life and the fundamental aspects of the universe, be they as all-encompassing as the Creation, or as simple as the art of music.

    ¡°Another thing that separates gods from the soldiers of Heaven is that deities are . . . natural parts of the world.  Their existence is tied to the aspects of the mortal plane that humanity exists upon, things that mortals understand, such as the air or the sun.¡±

    Well, that was interesting.  I chewed on more chicken even as my mind mulled this new information over.  It explained a great deal about how varied the gods were, how they claimed dominion and power over so many different aspects of the universe and across so many different cultures.

    ¡°So how are angels different?¡±

    ¡°Angels are not like gods in that they are not parts of the universe in the same way.¡± Joan paused for a moment, her eyes turning distant as she seemed to consider her words. ¡°It is difficult to put into words.  The gods are part of the world and the universe because they are tied to so many aspects of it, but the angels are more . . . removed.  They are a part of the world, but their ties are to the High Heavens rather than the mortal plane, and this can be seen with ease.

    ¡°The angels are different for many reasons, but the thing you need to understand, Adam is that, unlike such creatures as mortals, gods and spirits, the angels were created for a specific purpose, and that purpose shaped their every aspect.  More than that though, angels are more . . . I feel the word ¡®uniform¡¯ is the closest that comes to explaining it, than the gods.  The natures and characteristics of deities vary wildly depending upon a multitude of factors such as the culture they are tied to, their domain of power, their origins, factors such as those.  Angels do vary in that they have their personalities and specialities, but ultimately, they are all vastly more akin to one another than the various pantheons could ever hope to be.

    ¡°All angels were creatures of Heaven, air, light, healing and lightning being the predominant elements that they gravitate towards, though they are not limited to them.  However, more important than their forms or powers are their minds and souls.  Every angel is created with a fully matured mind, knowledge imparted to them by the Almighty and an absolute knowledge of their place and purpose in Creation.  To an angel just born into the world things such as doubt or uncertainty are completely alien.  This unshakable knowledge of themselves is something that no other beings in Creation possess, not even the gods themselves.  Perhaps the only other beings that possess a comparable sense of purpose are the demons, but since their creation is always marred by pain and chaos they lack the same purity.¡±

    Joan stopped speaking and gazed down at the table before her, her eyes not seeing the food laid out there, but instead focusing upon a distant memory.

    ¡°I spent centuries in the High Heavens.  I studied under angels, was trained by them, was healed by them, was guided by them.  There are angels I consider friends, angels that I respect, and angels that I fear.  And yet, for all the time I spent with them, they are hard to fully understand.  In Heaven, there is no flesh, but there is form, form enough that you can look into the eyes of an angel when you meet them.¡±

    Her eyes came up and looked at me, those rich blue eyes intense.

    ¡°When you look into their eyes you can see dedication, compassion, resolve, all the things that you would expect from a soldier of the Almighty.  But there is something else there, something bright and hard and shining beyond anything that you can imagine!  You can see it, and you know with absolute certainty that that part of them is in no way human!¡±

    The sudden tension of the moment was broken as she suddenly smiled.

    ¡°It is both frightening and beautiful in a way you could not imagine, but it is strange how swiftly you grow accustomed to seeing it.  Do not worry, Adam, strange though they might be, the First Children of God are . . . good, never forget that!  It is built into them, after all.¡±

    ¡°So how do angels Fall then, if they¡¯re built to be good?¡±

    That was a question that the world wanted to know, but which had remained a mystery.  There were all sorts of rumours on the internet, theories and gossip that ran from believable to crazy.  It was known that some sort of sin was the cause of an angel Falling, but the exact nature and the severity of such sins were unknown.

    Could Joan tell me?

    ¡°Despite what might be said of them, angels are not perfect, Adam.¡± She said that with a slightly sad note to her voice, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she had been disappointed when she got to Heaven and learnt that. ¡°Angels feel emotions as you or I do, though they are filtered by the differences in their mental structure.  Angels Fall because sometimes they encounter a situation where they feel something to the point where they are unable to handle it.  If the emotion they feel is too contrary to the basis of what it means to be an angel, then there is a . . . reaction.

    ¡°You have to understand; angels are not built in the same way that mortal beings are.  For beings like . . . us, the mind is tied to the body.  This is natural, a product of us having to exist in this world without being dependent upon any supernatural elements.  Angels are different, their minds are tied far more closely to their souls, and their souls make up a large portion of their bodies due to them being primarily spiritual beings.  What happens . . . there is no good word for it.  It is a trigger, a breaking, a changing, a contamination, a chain reaction, it begins small, then grows until it overwhelms them, changing both who and what they are.

    ¡°As for what causes it, to understand that you need to understand how the soul is marked by the sins of life.

    ¡°At that moment you would only have been able to drag me away if you¡¯d hit me over the head with something pretty damned big and heavy.  Even if I wasn¡¯t an academic, these were the sorts of questions that people had been crying out for answers to since the reality of the supernatural had become known.  Knowing this, well, who hasn¡¯t had thoughts about how the universe was set?  Who wouldn¡¯t want to know for certain about the rules heaven worked by?

    ¡°When mortals sin, it leaves a mark upon the soul,¡± She explained. ¡°With small sins, it is only a small mark, but the greater the sin then the greater the mark.  For mortals these marks are a part of life, we go through our days accumulating thousands of tiny marks that are just a part of being alive.  The envy we feel when we see someone richer or comelier than ourselves, the anger at someone rude, the gluttony of eating more than we need to simply because it tastes good, these are all just parts of life, as natural as breathing.  We accumulate these just as we do marks for our kindnesses and our forbearances, thus making a record of our lives.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°There are elements of the belief of karma in it, in that our deeds weigh us down, but the actual process that follows our death depends upon which beliefs one followed in life.  Even in their exile from the mortal plane, the various pantheons saw to the souls that were attributed to them, though most fell under the purview of the High Heavens.

    ¡°Angels possess free will and free thought, so it is possible for them to sin.  Unfortunately, for them, even minor sins are not minor things, since their souls are so entwined with their minds they can feel them, like rashes upon their skin, open sores, or mosquito bites.  As a result, angels are far more able to avoid sinning in almost any way, though God is understanding of small failings when they must work upon the world.  However, when they sin too grievously it is all too easy for them to be swept away in the tide of emotions that normally accompany such an event.  Angels are . . . unused to dealing with such depths of emotions, and they can be dragged along by them, losing sight of self-control or moderation.

    ¡°In this state, they are spiritually vulnerable, and it is possible for the sin that taints them to spread like wildfire, consuming them and . . . remaking them, is the best way to put it.  An angel overtaken by their sin will lose their connection to the High Heavens due to their nature having shifted to the point that maintaining the connection could prove dangerous to the Heavens themselves. This loss causes further mental and spiritual upheaval, which can lead to even more drastic shifts in mentality.  Even if they are not simply completely consumed by whichever sin caused them to Fall they are . . . changed, different.¡±

    She sighed slightly; her face sad as she seemed to contemplate the thought of the angels in the past that had Fallen in such a way.

    ¡°The angels do not like to speak of those that Fell, but when they do begin to speak of them it is as though a dam had burst and they cannot stop.

    ¡°They spoke much of Lucifer, the first angel to Fall, perhaps the one that made it even possible to Fall at all.  To them, he is a cautionary tale, a reviled foe, and yet still almost a person of reverence.  Is that not strange?  They speak of him with the deepest hatred, yet in the same breath, there is a deep respect and even admiration for the angel he once was.  It is almost impossible to understand.¡±

    Lucifer, the Devil himself.  As soon as she mentioned him, I felt my curiosity spike like you wouldn¡¯t believe!  I had seen the devil portrayed in dozens of different ways through my life.  He had been an incompetent bumbler in some kid¡¯s cartoons.  He had been a scheming villain in some of the films I¡¯d liked.  He had been an eldritch abomination in some of the books I¡¯d read later, a creature that couldn¡¯t be comprehended.  He had even been a more sympathetic character in some comics I had enjoyed.

    I wanted to know what the real nature of the being called Lucifer was.  After all, I knew angels were real and anyone with access to the internet knew about the existence of demons.  How then could their ruler be anything other than the Great Adversary depicted in the bible?

    ¡°How did he Fall?¡± The question tumbled out. ¡°I mean, I know how it¡¯s meant to have happened, he decides he wants to be greater than God, and then he convinces a third of the other angels to follow him into a civil war in Heaven.  That¡¯s what the bible generally says, but I think there are meant to be a whole bunch of variations that no one¡¯s sure about.  Like, did he rebel because God made mortals, or did it happen before mortals came about?  And was it really pride that made him Fall, or was it something else?  Can . . . can you tell me?¡±

    Even as I asked the question what I was doing sort of hit me and I started to wonder if I was trying to push things too far too fast.  I was pretty much asking her to air out Heaven¡¯s dirty laundry for me.

    I knew these kinds of questions had been asked of angels before, and even under the best of circumstances the only reply that had been given in return had been a quick dismissal.  The worst . . . well, in the end, they had been able to get that reporter out of the tree, but as far as I knew he¡¯d never touched any sort of recording device again after they pulled it out of his mouth.

    But at the same time, I couldn¡¯t help but think that maybe I was entitled to some sort of answer.  Joan was here because I was going to be a demigod that was going to be important somehow, right?  If that was the case, then didn¡¯t I need and deserve to know something about all this?

    ¡°His Fall . . . it was not a simple thing,¡± Joan explained, her words slightly hesitant. ¡°I do not remember all of what I learnt about it; the full explanation requires an understanding of concepts that beings of flesh such as us cannot properly comprehend.  Lucifer . . . did you know that was not even his name, well, not his original name?¡±

    ¡°Err . . . yeah,¡± I hedged, trying to draw upon a half dozen different urban fantasy novel series that I¡¯d read in the past. ¡°It was . . . Samael, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    I was pretty sure that had been his name or it might have been Hellel or something like that.  My overindulgence in entertainment media had given me a whole bunch of options, and I wasn¡¯t sure which of them, if any, had been right.

    ¡°No,¡± Joan answered. ¡°Samael is a loyal angel of the Lord, though his position as the Poison of God has given him a somewhat dark reputation, so it is understandable why the ignorant might confuse him with the First of the Fallen.

    ¡°With Lucifer . . . he was the first angel to ever Fall, and as such none were able to foresee it coming, nor knew how to deal with it.  Until then angels had not even known that it was even possible for them to Fall from Grace, that was part of what made it such a catastrophic event!¡±

    My eating had slowed down, I was still hungry, but I was no longer as ravenous.  I was able to pay closer attention to Joan as she continued.  It would have taken a blind man not to see the emotions on her face, even if it was difficult to puzzle out exactly what they were.  Sadness was there, and so was grief.  But there was also anger, and more than a little . . . hurt?  I wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°His taking the name of Lucifer was probably the first sign of his coming Fall,¡± she said. ¡°At least that is what the angels I spoke to thought.  For him to discard the name given to him by the Father and instead take one of his own choice.  At the time it was done in honour of the creation of the first suns, a duty that he had been tasked with, so it was regarded as simply a celebration of a completed labour.

    ¡°However, it was merely the beginning.  Lucifer was a trusted servant of the Lord, his strong right hand and among His greatest champions.  Among all angels, only Michael and Metatron were his peers, and none were certain of who was the strongest among them.  God gave Lucifer the task of driving back the first primordial demons that emerged into the universe in the early stages of Creation.  Those monsters were not like the demons that you have heard of entering the world in recent days.  They compared to them as ancient dinosaurs compare to modern birds.  They were huge, powerful, vicious beyond belief, but also mentally unsophisticated, unable to do more than lash out with primal savagery.

    ¡°Lucifer faced them, he drove them back, defeated them and sealed them into the distant plane that would one day be called Hell.  It was there that the sin of Pride began to take hold of him, because he alone was strong enough to face the first demons in open battle.  Other angels were not strong enough to do so alone, they had to work in teams or small armies.  When these angels saw him do what they could not, saw him face the abominations and defeat them, it was only natural that they praised him, told him how great he was and what honour he had brought to himself and the Heavens.

    ¡°As time passed more and more came to revere him, not merely for his deeds but also for his virtues.  Lucifer was seen as the perfect angel, the ideal that they should all strive for, and as more and more praise was heaped upon him Lucifer strove to be worthy of it by attaining greater and greater heights.  When the first gods emerged they were undefined, all but mindless.  They were not malevolent, but like clumsy giants, they broke the universe about them without meaning to.  It was Lucifer that lulled them back to sleep, so they could await their proper time, and it was he that led the efforts to repair the damage that was done.¡±

    At this point, I was listening to her every word with fascination.  I had known that once, the Devil had been the greatest of all angels, but to hear of the deeds that had allowed him to attain that position was enthralling.

    ¡°However, as he performed these deeds Lucifer became more and more stained by Pride,¡± the resurrected soul continued. ¡°As I said, at the time none of the angels knew that they could Fall, they didn¡¯t understand the full meaning of what being marked by sins meant.  At the time they treated the marks of Pride that had accumulated upon him as though they were battle scars, almost badges of honour.

    ¡°Lucifer¡¯s behaviour changed as well, due to his growing pride, but it was not seen as a malign change, so it went unchallenged.  He wished to be the first into battle and, given his power, that was seen as reasonable.  He wished to have an elevated position when seated with the other angels of high rank, and that was seen as his due for the deeds he had performed.  He demanded to speak to God alone so that only he was privileged to hear the Father¡¯s voice, and even that was seen as understandable for the paragon of all angels.

    ¡°However, things grew worse after the creation of the World.  Lucifer saw it as the crown jewel of the universe and desired it for himself, not for greed though, but solely because he had come to see himself as so magnificent that it could go to no other.  In his mind, he was the pinnacle of God¡¯s creations, so it was only fitting that the greatest world should be his as well!

    ¡°But when he voiced these desires the Almighty did not acquiesce, instead he stated that there were other plans for the World and the other worlds that would come with it.  For the first time in his existence, Lucifer was denied what he wished for, and this left another dark mark upon his soul.  Still, it had been the Father that had denied him, so he could do nothing but accept it, though it gnawed at him.  Having been denied dominion over the world he instead asked to be its carer, so he would watch over it as other angels did suns and stars, but again he was denied.  This time his outrage was greater, and he demanded of his creator why he was not given this honour, demanded to know who could be worthier than he.

    ¡°That was when God chose to disclose the next part of his plan for the universe, the creation of mortal life, and that was when Lucifer¡¯s Fall reached the point of no return.¡±

    Joan waved her hand, indicating the pair of us.

    ¡°What you must understand is that until this early point in Creation, the only lifeforms with any sort of civilization had been the angels under the rule of the Almighty.  The only other beings in existence had been the first demons, that were barely more than mindless forces of malevolence, and the first gods, who had barely possessed any sort of conscious thought in the time they had awakened.  All these beings were creatures of the same general composition as the angels, beings of primarily spirit and mind, their bodies more akin to clothing than actual parts of them.

    ¡°Mortal life, beings whose existence in the world was tied to their weak bodies of flesh, was a vast departure from all that had come before.  Remember, no mortal life of any sort had been created before, not animals, not insects, not even the simplest of algae in the oceans.  What the Lord was proposing was as unbelievable as the notion of talking rocks might be to mortals before the Black Sun.  It was a concept that could be imagined, but in reality it made no sense.

    ¡°But that was the Almighty¡¯s plan, and he continued to describe the next step in his plan with detail.  Mortals would be creatures of the flesh, with limited lives and few restrictions upon them.  They would grow, they would change, their lives would be marked upon their souls, and when they died those souls would be released to begin the next stage of their existence.  Consequently, their souls would be complex in a way that far surpassed that of any angel. Angelic souls were huge and mighty, but mortal souls, though smaller and weaker, would be so much more intricate.  Where angels were stars of power and light, mortals would be worlds that bore life.

    ¡°Lucifer saw all that, and he wanted it, his pride would allow nothing else!  He saw the complexity of mortal souls and demanded it for himself, seeing it as another step in his journey towards further greatness.  As he asked he felt greed for what was not his, envy that any but he could possess it, wrath that it was not yet already his, even lust for something that must have seemed so beautiful.  He felt all of these as he made his demand, but then the Lord replied.  Lucifer was told that it would be possible for angels to gain the complexity of mortal souls, but only by incarnating themselves as mortals, by giving up that which made them divine, even if only for a time.  Lucifer baulked at this, unwilling to surrender his greatness, even if only for a mortal lifetime in face of immortality, and instead demanded that the improvement be made to him while he remained an angel.

    ¡°For a third time, the Almighty refused him, and it was in that moment that the Morningstar Fell!¡±

    She paused again, this time bringing her eyes to mine, her gaze grave.

    ¡°Understand that his Fall was the first ever, none had Fallen before and had they had any notion of what was happening then it might not have been as catastrophic as it became.  Unfortunately, many factors came together to cause the greatest disaster that the High Heavens have ever had to endure.

    ¡°The first factor was that no one knew what was happening.  When his sins began to consume him nobody knew what was happening to Lucifer, they thought it to be some sort of external attack, and rallied to his side rather than drawing back as they should have.  As such many angels that sought to help him were caught in the backlash as his power went out of control.

    ¡°The second factor was Lucifer¡¯s state of mind, the way that his emotions and thoughts were twisted by the sins that overwhelmed his spirit.  Until this point he had always been the most dutiful of angels, ever seeking to perform his duties with absolute excellence.  However, he had never been denied anything that he saw as his due, and now his creator had denied him thrice. When he Fell his pride boiled over and his emotions were warped until his love for the Father became hatred, and a desire to serve became a wish to supplant, for his pride would allow nothing else.

    The third factor was Lucifer¡¯s raw strength.  He was one of the strongest of all the angels in Heaven, quite possibly the strongest of all, and certainly, the most battle-hardened and tested.  When sin overwhelmed him the aura of his corrupted power swept outwards, engulfing and overwhelming the angels that had drawn close.  The stronger ones, such as Gabriel and Michael, were able to resist, but so many others were swept away in the tide of corrupted power.

    ¡°It was this last factor that was the most devastating, for it was what caused the civil war of the Heavens.

    ¡°You recall how I said that when an angel Falls, they lose their connection to the Heavens?  Well, that system was created because when Lucifer Fell nobody knew that his connection should have been cut, and as such his corruption spread like a wildfire.  Angels all have a connection with the Heavens that allows them to share knowledge and power.  It is not a perfect connection, it is not a hive mind that allows all minds to be as one, nor does it allow any one angel to wield the power of all others.  Rather it allows them to sense each other, to support each other, to share pain and strength when needed.  When Lucifer Fell, he was still a part of that connection, and so many angels felt his turmoil, and they all reached out to try to help him, only to get dragged down with him.

    ¡°A full third of the forces of Heaven were caught up in his Fall, his sin washing over them, tainting them and then drowning them in corruption.  Most angels had never experienced such an overwhelming rush of negative emotions, and were unable to defend against it, each of them Falling as their own sins rose to consume them!  In the end, it was only due to the Almighty casting the Fallen from Heaven after Lucifer attacked him and cutting them all from the connection that the cascade of Falling ended.¡±

    There was a brief pause, and I took full advantage of it to ask what had been burning in my mind since she¡¯d started to talk about the angels Falling.

    ¡°Why did God make it so angels could Fall at all?  Couldn¡¯t he have made the infallible?¡±

    ¡°Do you think the Lord God to be infallible Himself?¡± Joan asked. ¡°After all, only an infallible being could create an infallible being, do you think that such a thing exists?¡±

    I was honestly stunned to hear such words coming from her.  Joan had faith, of that there was absolutely no doubt.  It wasn¡¯t the mindless faith of the fanatical.  Hers was something far more solid, tempered, and generous.  To hear her even suggest that God was anything less than a perfect existence seemed . . . wrong on some fundamental level.

    ¡°Perhaps I have given you the wrong impression about the Almighty, Adam,¡± Joan said, her voice oddly gentle. ¡°The Lord God, he is not like the other gods.  He is not a man written large, He is not a human with vast power.  He is . . . beyond anything you can imagine.  I have been in His presence, and the memory of it has been fragmented and removed so that I can maintain my sanity after retaking a mortal existence, that is how vast a being He is.  This world, this sun it orbits, this galaxy it spins in, the universe that holds it, they were all born from Him and His power, and yet they are but a fraction of what He is.

    ¡°He loves in a way that defies the mind, but there is no doubt that His love is as vast and mighty as He is.  He moves towards some goal, but even the mightiest of angels or the wisest of gods knows not what it is.  Many gods call themselves almighty or rulers of creation, but in the end, none of them has challenged Him, for all their boasts.  In all of the aeons of Creation only thrice have the High Heavens come under attack, once by Lucifer, once by an alliance of older gods who had grown arrogant upon their power, and once by a pantheon whose name is now burnt from memory.  Every one of them failed, for that is the extent of His power!¡±

    I wasn¡¯t too sure of just where she was going with all this.  Hadn¡¯t I asked why God hadn¡¯t made angels incorruptible?  So why was she making God sound like a friendly version of some overwhelmingly powerful eldritch abomination?

    My confusion must have again shown on my face because a small chuckle escaped Joan as she looked at me.

    ¡°Yes, it was within His power, the Almighty could have made the angels perfect,¡± the smile fell from her face and a serious look took its place. ¡°He could have made us perfect, made all mortals a race of idealized immortals that would never know death or pain or want, did you know that?¡±

    All I could do was shake my head, how could I have done anything else?  What was I even meant to feel after having learnt such a truth?  The world . . . for people it was not a kind place.  Oh, to be sure there was kindness, love, loyalty and friendship, things that made life worth living, but there was also so much suffering, so much pain and want that was inflicted upon the poor, the weak, or the simply unfortunate.  At this very instant someone was throwing away food right at the same time as a child was starving to death, possibly very near them.  So, how, how could that be right?  Why would he have made us like this if he could have made us so much better?

    My puzzlement must have shown on my face because Joan nodded.

    ¡°I can see the question in you, and it was the same question that I asked Him when I was first given the honour of an audience.  I was awed, and I was honoured, and I felt that I might weep with joy that I was held as worthy to gaze upon His face and stand in His presence.  But even so when He asked me what questions I might wish the answers to the first to spring from my mouth was the one that I can see writhing in your head.  ¡®Tell me, oh Lord Almighty, the god to whom I have devoted my soul, why were humans unworthy of perfection?  What trespass did we make that we must toil as we do?  Was the transgression of Adam and Eve so heinous that we must suffer for it so many years afterwards?¡¯  That is what I asked him!¡±

    I was stunned!  Was this the same Joan I knew?  To question the plan of God?  To question His motives for setting up the universe the way He did.  All I could do was stare at her as I waited for her next words.

    ¡°As soon as I asked the question I was horrified with myself, thinking that I would be struck down for my temerity.  But instead, He explained to me why perfection had been denied to all, the angels that served him, the gods that came after him, even the mortals he created.¡±

    ¡°Well . . . why?¡±

    Even as I asked I felt a certain thrill going through me.  I had been raised as a Christian, though I will admit that my family wasn¡¯t the most devout.  I think on average I attended church maybe three times a year at the very most. And it wasn¡¯t as though I said my prayers every night before I went to bed, but I was a believer of sort.  Still, I had always picked at the paradoxes of my faith.

    ¡°He told me if he had made us perfect, then we would never have been able to live in the first place.¡±

    What?!

    ¡°He told me that a perfect thing is a thing that has stopped growing.  Why should it need to grow, would not such growth only take it away from its perfection?  And if it does not need to grow then why should it do anything?  What should it strive for?  What should it aspire to be?  In His words, a perfect thing is a beautiful thing, something to be valued and admired, but it is also a static thing, something that has come to the end of its development.  It can never be anything else, it can never be anything more.  It can only be whatever it is for as long as it can before time drags it down.

    ¡°But an imperfect thing, something that lacks something, something that is incomplete, it can strive, it can improve, it can become more!

    ¡°Mortals, angels, even the greatest gods, we are all imperfect, incomplete.  We feel hungers and pain, we yearn, we strive, we know both virtue and sin, and we grow from it.  We have free will and can choose what we shall be, and because of that choice what we do has more value to it.  Were we perfect then there would be no value to our decisions because they could not be anything else.  We would always choose correctly because doing otherwise would be impossible.

    ¡°Angels can Fall, gods can be mad, or cruel, or both, mortals can sin until their souls are as blackened as a fiend from the deepest depths of Hell, but for all that, we can also be better.  Angels can shine brighter than stars, gods can be benevolent and wise, and mortals can be as good and pure as any soul to reside in the Heavens.  All of us can grow, be more than we were the day before if we so choose.  That is why we have free will, that is why we have a choice!¡±

    There was a pause as I tried to digest what I¡¯d just heard.  Perfection was a bad thing?  Okay, I could see the argument, see where . . . where God was coming from, but it was still kind of strange to wrap my head around it.  Also, if that was the case, if perfection stifled growth, then what about . . .

    ¡°So . . . God isn¡¯t perfect?¡±

    I met the French saint¡¯s eyes as I asked the question, doing my best to stay steady as I did so.

    ¡°What is perfection, when you think about it?¡± Joan asked in return. ¡°I have spoken with the Lord, and He has told me Himself that He is flawed.  He is powerful beyond any other, His wisdom eclipses the combined knowledge of all that exists, and His intellect surpasses anything that even the mind of an immortal can imagine.  And yet, for all that He is not without error or flaw, He has told me so Himself!

    ¡°He can transcend time, he can see all of what has been and what can be as easily as you or I could see the colour of the sky by glancing out of a window.  Yet he keeps from doing so in order to be able to be surprised by what his creations accomplish so that they might be more than acting out a play that he has already read the script for.  So, he stands with us as part of the show, rather than being a puppet master.  Even though it may lead to pain and heartbreak for Him, he lives in the same time as us.  That is how much he loves us!¡±

    That . . . that made some sort of sense, if you squinted hard enough.  When you think about it the harshest foe to an omnipotent and omniscient being would have to be boredom.  Why would you do anything if you already knew what would emerge from your efforts?  With such absolute knowledge of what was to come then the lack of any sort of stimulus would become crushing!  Was that why God had created the universe, just for something to entertain him?

    I could have followed that line of thought, tried pile on more questions until I was buried in uncertainty, but the fact was that I was already emotionally drained from what I¡¯d learnt.  There was more I wanted to know, like how Lucifer¡¯s rebellion had been fought, what the aftermath had been, how it was more angels had Fallen since, and where the gods fit into it all.  But at that moment I¡¯d had about enough of having my view of the world shaken up.  Maybe I was still just too tired from all the sparring and learning from earlier in the day, but I just didn¡¯t want to have to face any more big revelations

    So, I just nodded.  Then, feeling that it wasn¡¯t enough, I inclined my head in an almost bow.

    ¡°Thanks for telling me all of that.  I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m going to make of it, but thanks for letting me know.¡±

    It was as sincere as I could make it, and Joan offered a smile in return that made her face seem to brighten.

    ¡°These are things that you will need to know in the future.  In time you will learn much more, of that, you can be certain.¡±

    I had no doubt she was right, but the evening had already been plenty for me.  I was feeling tired, even more so than before, as though learning such truths had somehow wrung me out.  I was more than happy for a chance to change the subject.

    ¡°Well, right now there is one bit of knowledge I¡¯m interested in, where did you learn to cook like this?¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± For the first time I saw Joan look a bit bashful, her cheeks were slightly rosy and she wasn¡¯t meeting my eyes. ¡°When I was younger my mother taught me how to cook, saying that if I ever wanted to catch a man then a good meal was a necessary weapon to employ, and I found I enjoyed it.  During my time in the Heavens, I took to learning more recipes in between my martial training, and after so long I have learnt much.¡±

    Huh, I knew that Joan had been raised in what was probably quite a sexist environment by today¡¯s standards.  Fifteenth-century France wasn¡¯t a place that would have been big on women¡¯s rights, and if what little I knew of the era was accurate women were considered to be largely subservient to men.  Joan had been a young girl growing up in such a household, and women were seen as having roles that they should not stray from.  If I remembered right then she hadn¡¯t even been literate at the time that she went on to save her country from foreign invasion.  Her learning to cook was a logical skill for her to learn under such circumstances. At the same time, I was having trouble reconciling her in the kitchen with the mental image I¡¯d built up of her in the last few days.

    Joan was, to put not too fine a point on it, Kick-Ass!  After having my rear end handed to me so many times, and with such minimal effort, Joan firmly occupied the mental space in my mind that shared room with warrior princesses and vampire slayers, namely the ¡®strong-female-lead¡¯ space.  The thought of her acting as a homemaker was about as bizarre as the thought of a certain amazon princess being relegated to the kitchen in an apron.

    ¡°Well, let me thank you for your efforts, and for getting this ready!  I swear, if you didn¡¯t use your healing on me then I think that your food would make for a decent substitute.  I know that I¡¯d be willing to crawl on broken legs to get it!¡±

    The last was said with an even wider grin to show that it was just a joke, but I had to admit there was some truth to it.  I was not a foodie, but I could tell that pretty much everything she cooked was top-tier.  After a hard day of sparring and getting pummelled that could be a real motivator, let me tell you.

    ¡°Do you really think so?¡±

    From bashful to shy, it was rather charming to see this side of my normally stern and serious protector.  It wasn¡¯t the over-the-top shyness that I might have seen in one of the anime I liked, but it was close enough to amuse me with the thought of reality mirroring fiction.  In response, I ladled a large forkful of food into my mouth and began to industriously chew it, even though my cheeks were a bit stretched, like some overeager chipmunk.  As I did so I looked at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

    Making these ridiculous faces managed to get a short peel of laughter from my host, one that dispersed her earlier self-consciousness.

    ¡°I believe that would count as a yes then?¡± she asked, only to receive another waggling of my eyebrows as I tried to work my way through my mouthful.  It drew another laugh from her, and a somewhat stretched smile settled on my face.

    This had not been the evening I was expecting, but it was alright.  I had learnt much, enough to leave my head buzzing with all the new information trying to settle within it, but I could worry about that later.  For now, I had pleasant food, pleasant company, and a pleasant atmosphere.  Once I went on to become . . . whatever I might end up being, I¡¯d have far more weighty matters to worry about.  So, for now, it was nice to just enjoy the simple things, even if it was just for an evening.

    Now, did this place have anything to play besides dominos?  I still hadn¡¯t taken a proper look through all the drawers so there might be some games hidden away if I looked.  Even if there wasn¡¯t, I could try introducing Joan to things like hangman or noughts and crosses.

    Yeah, it would be nice to have an evening without anything to worry about.

 Chapter 9: Preparations: Part One

    Chapter 9: Preparations

    The robed figure stared out of the window and watched in silence as the large truck slowly unloaded the massive crate they had been transporting.  There was a certain sense of satisfaction in watching the bed of the truck visibly spring up after the huge metal and plastic crate had been removed.  There was no way of underestimating the tremendous weight that had been unloaded.  Everything about the task, from the squeal of the crane to the slight tremor in the earth as the crate came down, spoke of the weight of the massive load being delivered.  The men worked quickly, setting up the crane, moving the crate, then disassembling it all, packing the parts back onto the truck and then driving away.

    Such was to be expected, after all, the firm hired for this task was renowned for its efficiency and discretion.  There were no questions, no hanging about, no delays, just the optimum amount of work needed to accomplish the task before them, and then a speedy exit.  Yes, they had been every bit as discreet as could have been hoped for.  The magic-user made a mental note to ensure that a generous bonus was paid to the company for their excellent work.  After all, it was always good sense to reward those that you might need to use again someday

    ¡°Is that it?¡±

    The question came from the scarred man, who had emerged from the stone chamber some time ago.  His spells were largely self-operating at this point. He could leave them unattended for hours at a time.  Periodically he would return to see if they had managed to build sufficient power to locate the agent of the Heavens, but aside from that there was little need for his presence.  A fact that allowed him to indulge an interest in the artefact that had been delivered.

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    The robed figure¡¯s response was curt, their attention focused upon the new contents of the warehouse rather than upon their companion.

    ¡°So, are you going to tell me what it is?¡±

    ¡°No, but you can see for yourself in a few minutes if you wish.¡± The fellow acolyte of their patron replied, as the two of them began to make their way to the warehouse.

    It wasn¡¯t what he wanted to hear.  Still, he had patience to spare.  After all, anyone with hopes of a future in the mystic arts had to be practised in patience.  When dealing with such forces incaution or haste could prove lethal.

    ¡°How go your preparations for when we locate our target?¡±

    He would soon be able to find their quarry again, regardless of the measures she had taken to obfuscate her location.  However, once that had been found they would have to move swiftly.  If they hesitated too long then it was possible the agent would move once more, and then they would be forced to begin all over again.  That meant that once they were certain of the agent¡¯s location they would have to immediately strike with decisiveness and overwhelming force.

    Given that they were facing a foe that was quite literally divinely empowered they could not afford to underestimate her.  As such appropriate steps needed to be taken.

    Appropriate measures such as awaited in one of the artificial caverns beneath the castle.

    The thought of what he had seen there was enough to bring a tight smile to the lips of the scarred man.  All of those warped and inhuman bodies, so many of them and all waiting in a deep sleep, waiting in long rows as though they were simply statues left in the dark.  Each of them had been carefully summoned by his robed ally weeks ago; each of them had been bound into service and ordered to wait in hibernation until they were called upon.  So many of them, and each of them so strong.

    He was unsure of how they would be able to fare against a chosen servant of the God of the Outer Heavens, but he knew that against others they had proven fearsome and formidable in the past.  If fortune was with him and his host then they might prove as formidable on this occasion.  And if not . . . well, quantity could make up for a lack of quality if needs be.

    His host had descended a flight of stairs and was now making their way out of the main gate to the renovated castle.  As the gravel of the courtyard crunched beneath their feet the scarred man had to bring up a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the light of the summer sun that burnt down upon them.  He was now clad in a simple white sleeveless shirt, but even so, he could feel the heat beating down upon him.  He could only imagine how his host felt, given the thick and heavy robe worn even in the summer heat.

    Still, he knew the vestments would not be removed, even if their wearer was suffering.  Those robes were not mere vestments of common cloth, rather they were ancient vestments woven by the hands of gods and monsters alike.  Heavy and cumbersome though they were, the robes drank in the ambient magic of the world that would normally go untouched, and then funnelled it into their wearer.  The process was slow, uncomfortable and even painful on occasion.  But in exchange, those that wore the robes could greatly increase the speed at which their magic developed.  In these times, only months after the return of the magic that had once left the world, anything that granted an advantage to one¡¯s development was a boon.

    In times long past rare mortals that wielded magic had been able to stand as peers to the gods, perhaps not their equals, but not a force that could be ignored or dismissed.  Every culture had its legends, the British had Merlin, the Irish had Gwydion fab D?n, and eastern legend was rife with monks and priests that possessed powers even the gods would respect.  As things stood in the present, the gods and other divinities had the clear advantage in the world.  Mortals were almost devoid of any sort of protection against them.  The only ones able to oppose them were the demigods and resurrected souls.  Without aid, it would take mankind centuries, possibly even millennia, before they could once more see to their own defence.

    That was why he had thrown his lot in with their patron.  The scarred man had known magic was real even before the Black Sun, having encountered one of the few remnants of magic that had lingered in the world when the legends had been in exile.  He knew how wonderful and ghastly it could be, and he wanted that power.  He wanted it to control and protect, and he was willing to accept certain compromises to get it.

    Still, that was the past, the present was growing interesting as they entered the warehouse that had been built in the castle¡¯s large bailey.  The point of interest being the enormous crate that had been set upright in the middle of the warehouse¡¯s open area.  The massive metal and plastic crate was easily over twelve feet in height, and at least half that wide and deep.  It didn¡¯t so much resemble a shipping crate as it did a bank vault that had somehow come free.

    ¡°So . . . are you going to tell me what is in there?¡±

    Rather than answer his question, the robed figure held out their hands and extended their fingers towards the huge crate.  He could feel magic rolling off them as they extended their power.  The scarred practitioner might not be able to match their raw strength, but his ability to sense and analyse magic was unquestionably superior.  He could practically see it as the magic reached out, wrapping around the crate, and then, in an impressive display of multitasking dexterity, every screw and bolt holding it together came undone.

    In a single instant, the sides of the crate all fell outwards as though built to do so, the metal making a loud crash as it hit the concrete floor.  The only exception to this was the top of the crate, which slid off to the side in a rather haphazard manner.  All this though, was of minimal interest to the scarred man.  Instead, his focus was upon the now revealed contents of the container, which was . . .

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    A massive mound of straw?

    The robed figure let out a grunt of annoyance and made another gesture, and the straw burst into flames.  The fire burned fast, supernaturally so.  All that straw, as tightly packed as it was, should have continued to burn for a few minutes at least, instead, it was all gone in less than ten seconds.  And what was revealed . . .

    The scarred man found himself taking a step back out of pure reflex at what he saw.  He was a worldly man, someone not easily impressed. Even so, there was something about what the flames bared to his sight that made him want to flinch back.

    What he saw was some sort of statue, but never had he seen one like this.  It was a huge figure, wrought most artfully in both stone and metal.  Though, perhaps the word ¡®huge¡¯ didn¡¯t do it full justice.  He himself was at least six feet in height, but this sculpture of metal and stone towered over him as though he were nothing more than a child.  It was humanoid in shape, but the proportions were . . . beyond human.  The shoulders and sculpted muscles were huge, the feet massive enough to trample a full-grown mortal man beneath them; each hand was an enormous vice of thick fingers large enough to crush cannon balls with ease.  Atop the shoulders was the head of the figure, a massive helmeted affair, with a visor beneath what seemed to be a crown of iron spikes welded to the helm itself.  Beneath the visor was no mouth, rather there was simply a crude and jagged slit, strangely out of place given the clear craftsmanship that had gone into the rest of the statue.

    ¡°A magnificent statue, but how do you intend to use it?¡±

    The robed figure stepped forwards and waved their hand at the head of the statue.  Again, the scarred man felt the magic ripple out, this time focusing on the helmet-like face of the statue.  There was a high-pitched squealing noise, that of metal long in place being forced to move once more.  As he watched the helm and visor of the figure split apart, the layers of armour peeled away in a mechanical manner that spoke of its intricate design.  Before long half the head had opened in an almost flower-like manner, revealing a smooth face at the very centre of the statue''s head, a face that had a single word inscribed in characters that he did not recognize.  One thing that was clear though, one of the characters had somehow been scuffed to the point it was no longer readable, and that was enough to let him know just what he was seeing.

    ¡°Is that a golem?¡±

    Golem creation was one of the oldest forms of Hebrew magic, and they''re most famed.  At its core, the discipline was an attempt to emulate the actions of the Abrahamic god when he fashioned Adam, the first man, from mud and breathed life into him.  Many masters of the mystic arts had tried to imitate the creation of the first mortal for a vast array of reasons.  Some sought to learn the craft as a stepping stone to learn how to create a ¡®perfect¡¯ human, one that would be free of the flaws and frailties that dogged humanity.  Others wished to create slaves, mindless automatons that obeyed orders without thought or hesitation, servants that felt no emotion, endured no pain, listened to no conscience.  Still others wanted a protector, someone that could be trusted to never be swayed by bribes, seduction, or fear.

    ¡°Not ¡®a¡¯ golem, this is ¡®The¡¯ Golem.¡±

    There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his ally¡¯s voice.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°This is not just any golem created in the workshop of some alchemists hiding from the world.  Centuries before the birth of Christ a king in the lands that would become Arabia, lured several Hebrew mystics into his service with promises of gold and fame.  He ordered them to create a golem, a masterwork surpassing all made before.  He provided them with all that they needed, the rarest resources, the most skilled servants, knowledge thought lost, it didn¡¯t matter.  He wanted them to create the greatest golem ever, a servant that could defend his kingdom from demons, pagan gods, even the angels of God himself.¡±

    The acolyte gestured to the massive figure.

    ¡°This was the fruit of their labour, one of the strongest of all golems, possibly even the strongest of all!¡±

    Magic flowed through the air, growing visible as it concentrated around the exposed word.  The scuffed character glowed with orange light, the damage to it seeming to fade until a clear symbol was visible in its place.  In response, there was a deep thudding noise from within the golem¡¯s metal and stone chest, a heartbeat so loud that even from where he stood the scarred man could hear it.

    ¡°What have you done?¡±

    Even as he asked the question the formerly statue-like form of the golem was visibly altering.  A dull internal glow began to emanate from the seam and joints, as though the internal parts were molten.  Even so, he could feel no heat radiating from its form.  The face closed, the layers of armour folding back into place until only the face of the helmet remained, once more crowned in iron.  Then, with a sound like tortured metal, the form of the statue moved.  The hands clenching, the spine straightening, its centre of balance shifting slightly as its posture adjusted.  Lastly, the visor was lit by an internal light, as though the eyes that it protected had been replaced with fresh embers from a fire.

    ¡°It was defeated, but only through powerful magic being used to change the word inscribed upon its head,¡± The robed figure explained, their hands still extended, magical power feeding into the golem as it came alive.  ¡°Without that word to give it life, all of the magic within it drained away, leaving it little more than a finely crafted sculpture which was buried away.  My own magic is enough to repair it and replenish it to full functionality.¡±

    Yes, the scarred man could indeed feel the amount of power that his ally was feeding into the construct.  It was daunting in a way, he knew that he was powerful by the standards of the mortals of this world, but the amount of raw power that was being channelled into the golem would have taken him weeks or even months to accumulate.  That his ally had been able to muster such power from their reserves with such ease made him wonder just how much of it was their own talent, and how much of it was due to their patron¡¯s interference.  And a small part of him wondered if he could persuade their patron to impart the same upon him.  Well, that was something to think of later.

    ¡°Can you control it?¡±

    In response to his question, his robed ally shouted out some words in a language he didn¡¯t understand.  The golem must have heard them because its head rose and its visored eyed seemed to focus upon the speaker.  For a moment there was a tension in the room, a sense of violence only just restrained.  All that was needed was a trigger, a slip, just one word in the wrong place.  For his part the dark-haired man was frozen in place, feeling as though an avalanche was poised just above him, and any action however slight would bring it crashing down upon him.

    Power, that was the only way he could describe it.  Despite having been as alive as a block of granite just a few moments ago the golem now seemed to radiate an aura of barely pent-up strength.  The only time he had ever faced anything similar was when he¡¯d met with his divine patron, but that had been different.  Facing their patron had been like staring into a furnace, he¡¯d been well aware that what was before him could consume him utterly.  Just a touch could wound, just a fraction of their power could reduce him to nothing.  The Golem. . . that was more like standing in front of a train that was getting ready to move, you just knew that if you got in its way then you would be flattened.

    Then the glowing eyes seemed to flicker, and any hint of menace left it as it knelt on one knee, one fist pressed down into the base of the crate that it still stood upon.

    ¡°Wh-what was that?¡±

    The robed figure stepped forward to run one gloved hand down the side of the kneeling golem''s shoulder.  Had the construct been flesh there would have been something almost sexual about the caress, but instead, it seemed to be possessive, covetous.

    ¡°I spoke the words of the king that once commanded it.¡± The figure explained. ¡°Finding them was difficult, even with the magic.  I had to wade through most of my library of old tomes for clues, and once I found the words I learned that the copy I had was corrupted by centuries of flawed translations.  Fortunately, a ritual of Truth was sufficient to reveal their correct form.  Now, I command it!¡±

    The figure stepped back and seemed to admire the sight of the towering figure kneeling before them.

    ¡°It should make a fine addition to the force we shall be sending after the agent of Heaven, do you not agree?¡±

    The scarred man had little love for the agents of Heaven.  In his view, they might have been less malicious than the forces of hell, and they might be more restrained than many of the gods that now roamed the world, but even so, they were still just another power seeking to exert their will upon the fate of mankind.  This Maiden of Orleans was a mortal that had thrown her lot in with them, so he had no particular regard for her either. She had chosen their side, so she had to accept the consequences of that choice.

    Still, as he looked up at the mass of stone and metal that towered taller than him even though it had knelt, he could not help but feel a certain level of sympathy for the returned saint.  They had no idea of what was coming for them.

 Chapter 9: Preparations: Part Two

    ¡°Very well, is it in place yet?¡±

    You know, I knew that Joan was superhuman in the most literal sense of the word, but it was on occasions like this when it most forcefully struck home.  She was by no means a puny-looking girl.  I¡¯d had the guilty pleasure of seeing her take off her armour and continue my training in what was essentially a tunic and hose.  It was a bit odd that she didn¡¯t seem to own any more modern clothes, but given the view I got, I wasn¡¯t going to argue the matter.

    Joan was pretty much a cross between a movie star and an athlete.  She was beautiful, and she had the sort of figure that you¡¯d normally only see in fashion magazines for the more sexy sorts of clothes, but she was also tightly muscled in the best way possible.  I¡¯d seen her get hot while training and lift the bottom of her shirt to cool herself and I¡¯d gotten a glimpse of some pretty impressive ¡®girl abs¡¯.  So yeah, she didn¡¯t look like she was going to fall over in a stiff breeze, or anything like that.

    All that said, the sight of her carrying a small tree trunk, as though it weighed no more than a plastic ladder, was more than a bit surprising.

    The two of us were standing in the field that the farmstead looked out upon.  Years ago, this would have been cultivated, or it might have been grazing land for herds of cattle or flocks of sheep.  As things stood this land was home to nothing but long grasses.  And when I say ¡®long grasses¡¯ I mean it, this grass was almost waist height.  I enjoyed looking out on this field from my bedroom, watching it rippling in an almost liquid fashion with every breeze.  The sight of it was oddly relaxing.

    Now a large chunk of it was gone, mowed down as though a horde of reapers had descended upon it.  Much of the field remained untouched, but an area large enough to fit a couple of houses had been cleared by Joan¡¯s efforts.

    In truth, I hadn¡¯t seen much of the divine powers she possessed since we arrived here.  There had of course been the healing, but I¡¯d experienced that so many times in the last few days that I had grown kind of used to it.

    Those tree trunks, on the other hand, were entirely too tangible an example of what she could do.  They had come from the woods behind the farmstead, and she¡¯d spent a couple of hours that morning cutting them down and stripping them of branches.  I don¡¯t know how long a team of workmen with machine tools would have taken to manage the same thing, but I couldn¡¯t see them matching what Joan had managed on her own

    She¡¯d cut and stripped twenty large trees.

    In less than two hours.

    It is difficult to explain just how enthralling it was to watch a girl who appears to be even younger than I casually accomplish such amazing things.  The trees were not the sort of massive oaks that you find in the hearts of the old woodlands, but each of them was at least as thick as my waist, and she was bringing them down with just one swing of her swords made of light.

    It was like something from a Star Wars film, only with a bit less burning.  The blade made of light passed through the wood as though it were nothing more than mist, with no resistance, no apparent impact.  It just went straight through and left a cut that was as smooth as glass.  Once they were down Joan got on with the task of cutting off the branches so that there was just the main trunk left.  For anyone else, this would have been difficult, since those branches were still alive, and because moving the tree around was tough by itself, given how much it weighed.  Neither of these held back the resurrected saint though, not when her sword could cut off those branches with ease, and she could lift the tree by hand.

    Each tree took her less than ten minutes to bring down, tidy up, and have as ready as those trunks that you see being transported around by trucks.  I watched in fascination as she stacked them up at the edge of the forest until all twenty of them were ready.

    Once they were done she made her way over to the field in front of the farmhouse and began clearing the large space.  Joan had manifested another sword, but this one with a blade more than thirty feet long.  If the sword had been made out of metal then I think that it would have probably ended up bending under its own weight as soon as it was picked up by someone even capable of lifting it, but being made of light shaped by divine magic . . .

    Clearing that large area had been but the work of a few moments, all she had to do was level the sword parallel to the ground, crouch down low and then spin it in place.  In an instant, all the grass within reach of her blade had been scythed down.

    It was around this time that I confess that my curiosity got the best of me, so while she was tidying up her freshly cut field I went back to the pile of tree trunks and had a go at lifting one.  I knew that they had to weigh loads, but after seeing Joan move them around so easily . . . well, I just had to be sure.

    So, I tried to lift the end of one of the trunks.  And tried.  And tried.  And then realized just how useless my efforts were.

    Not one inch, that was how much I was able to budge them by, not one solitary inch.  Hell, I wasn¡¯t even able to move it by even a fraction of an inch.  I was in visibly better shape than I had been a week ago, but even so, there was no way I could budge that cut tree, I might as well have been trying to lift a whole car.

    That, more than anything else, brought home to me just how strong Joan really was.

    Was that the sort of power that I was going to have once this ritual was finished?  I knew that demigods could be very powerful; there were enough pictures and clips that showed the aftermath of the rampage of the less scrupulous children of the gods for me to know that.  Buildings demolished, trees snapped or uprooted, a now iconic picture of the back half of a car sticking out of the fourth floor of an office building where it had been thrown during a battle.  How did that stack up with what my guardian and teacher could do?

    These thoughts occupied my mind as I watched her go about her task.  Once the clearing had been prepared she had begun to carry the tree trunks over to it one at a time, then laying them down on the grass.  It didn¡¯t take me long to realize the shape that the trunks were forming.  It was an octagon, each side as balanced as she could make it so that every angle was identical.  The resulting outline was huge, easily big enough to put a house into it.  Once she had this finished Joan took a ninth trunk and carried it into the middle of the ring of tree trunks she¡¯d made.  With a few quick cuts from her sword of light, it was reduced to several shorter logs, each of almost identical length, which she stood up beside each other to make a sort of platform.

    She¡¯d then taken the remaining trunks and begun to position them like the spokes of a wheel, reaching from the centre out to each of the corners of the octagon.  That was where I came in.  Joan had been having a bit of trouble positioning the trunks while holding them, so she¡¯d asked me to stand on one of the trunks that had already been laid down and direct her so that the ones she was laying were in the right spots.

    ¡°Yep, you¡¯ve got it lined up just right!¡±

    ¡°Splendide!¡±

    I heard the faint thud as she dropped the huge log the last couple of inches, and then I heard a slight sigh of satisfaction escape her lips as she stood up and stretched.  I guessed that even if she did have supernatural strength and endurance she still must have been a bit uncomfortable carting all that weight around.  It was odd, little things like that reaffirmed her humanity, something that I found reassuring.

    ¡°So . . . now what?¡±

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    This had been bugging me.  The setup might be large, but I didn¡¯t see it as anything particularly special.  If this ritual was going to awaken the divine blood I was supposed to have then surely there had to be more to it than just setting up some chopped-down trees in a certain way.  This formation just didn¡¯t seem significant enough to be able to achieve something like that.

    ¡°Well, there still remain a few matters that require preparation, but those can come later.  At this time I shall begin the inscriptions.¡±

    ¡°Inscriptions?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    As she spoke the word she once more manifested the sword made of light.  She used it to slice the top few inches off the upward-facing long side of the trunk she¡¯d just laid down on the ground.  The result was a clean and flat surface of freshly cut wood running along the entire length of the trunk.  Another instant and the sword was gone, replaced by a sort of spike that she was holding as though it was a pen.  As I watched she used it to inscribe symbols upon the freshly cut wood, the tip of the spike cutting into the exposed grain as though it were cream.  One symbol was joined by another, then another, then many as she quickly worked her way down the entire length of the trunk.

    I watched her in silence as she did this.  But before long my eyes were drawn to the symbols that she¡¯d carved.  They were an odd combination of straight lines and smooth curves, unquestionably beautiful to look at.  The way they were arranged made me think they weren¡¯t so much symbols in an alphabet, but more like Japanese kanji, where every symbol was a complete word rather than a part of it.  However, there was also something . . . unsettling about them.

    It was as though my eyes seemed to slide off them, and whenever I wasn¡¯t focused on the symbols I could almost see them moving from the corner of my eye.  Then, when I focused on them again, they appeared to be just as I remembered, but there was something about them that I was sure was different.  For the life in me, I couldn¡¯t have pointed out what it was, but I was completely certain it was there.

    In fact . . . the more I looked at the strange characters the more they seemed to be squirming under my vision.  Flowing, twisting, distorting as they continued on to a-

    ¡°ADAM!¡±

    The sharp sound of my name broke me out of the near trance that I¡¯d fallen into and sent me stumbling back a few steps.  I felt wetness touch my upper lip, and my fingers instinctively went to my face, only to come away bloody from the trickle that was running from my nose.  Blood?  Why was there blood?  For a moment the world swam around me as I experienced a wave of vertigo that came to me out of nowhere.  I started to fall to the side, but then a hand caught me, steadying me, and letting me catch my balance.  I shook my head and turned it to see Joan standing beside me, concern clear on her face.

    ¡°Wha . . . ?¡±

    The single word was slurred slightly as I blinked my eyes and tried to force my reeling thoughts to line up.  What the hell had that been?  One moment I was fine, then those symbols started to shift about and I¡¯d just lost it.  As I thought of the strange script my head turned instinctively to look at them once more, but a hand came up and pressed itself against the side of my face, turning my eyes away from the inscribed trunk.  A part of me absently noted that despite the inexorable strength of the hand it was still smooth and warm, and the scent of it was surprisingly refreshing, slightly metallic, but in a good way.

    ¡°Do look not directly at them, do you understand?  Focus on me, do not think about them, do not look at them again, do you understand?¡±

    Her words brought me out of my confusion and gave me something to focus on.  In a few moments, the weird disorientation passed and I was staring into those now familiar blue eyes.

    ¡°Wh-what happened?¡±

    ¡°Je suis d¨¦sol¨¦ Adam, that was my fault.  I should have realized that exposing you to empowered Enochian before your divine blood had been awakened could be dangerous!¡±

    ¡°Enochian?  That¡¯s . . . angel language, right?¡±

    I recognized the word from various supernatural shows and books, a plot device that was often used in all sorts of spells and rituals.  So, it was real!  Angels, God and the Heavens had been proven to exist, so it only made sense that their language did as well.  Still, that didn¡¯t explain what had just happened.

    Joan must have understood, because she answered without me having to ask.

    ¡°The language of angels is derived from the knowledge and teachings of God Himself, and as such, it is not something that the mortal mind can fully comprehend, but at the same time it is something that can be read by any mortal being, regardless of their native tongue.¡±

    She paused for a moment, her face growing slightly irritated.

    ¡°Pardonne-moi, I am not explaining it as well as I could.  Enochian transcends language barriers and speaks directly to the small part of us that is not merely flesh and blood, but rather something more divine, our souls if you like.  Our minds can interpret that to allow us to read it.  Under normal circumstances that is a good thing, as the symbols can communicate extremely complex subjects with ease.  These are just the forms though, the most basic of outlines.  When they are charged with the celestial power of the Heavens then the information they store can increase by many magnitudes.  Each individual character can contain massive amounts of information, enough to overwhelm a mortal mind.  However, as they store so much knowledge they cease to be of just this world and try to become more heavenly.  That was what caused you harm, attempting to read something that a mortal mind was not meant to comprehend.¡±

    I blinked at that and then said the first thing that came to mind.

    ¡°Wait, hang on!  Are you saying that you accidentally Lovecrafted my brain?¡±

    Now it was her turn to look confused.

    ¡°You think I . . . love crafted you?  Adam, what are you talking about?  I find you to be an admirable man, but I hardly think that I love you.  Are you not recovered?¡±

    I just stared at her for a moment, and then a chuckle escaped me at the genuine confusion on her face.  Because of her confidence and charisma, it was often all too easy to forget that this was a girl out of her time.  Sure, she had knowledge and information, but for all that, she lacked so much in the details, especially the pop culture references that came so easily to me.  Seeing her confusion turn to a little hurt I hurried to explain myself.

    ¡°Sorry, sorry.  I meant Lovecraft as in the whole ¡®things-man-was-not-meant-to-see¡¯ sense.  You know, the whole ¡®simply gazing upon them will drive you mad¡¯ thing.  Sorry if I didn¡¯t make sense.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, all is well then.¡± Joan nodded, then turned to the log she¡¯d been working on, even as she made sure that I was still well turned away from it.  ¡°Give me a moment, and I shall drain the power from these runes.  It should be safe for you to look at them afterwards.¡±

    I felt a movement in the air, sort of a sudden pressure which then passed.  After it did so the resurrected saint let go of my head and I turned to look at the symbols.  There wasn¡¯t anything about them that was visibly different; it wasn¡¯t as though a glow had faded from them or anything so obvious.  Even so, there was no mistaking that they were . . . less than they had been before.  What was even stranger was that I could read them now.  No, to say I could ¡®read¡¯ them would be inaccurate, I still couldn¡¯t tell what each symbol meant, but it was as though I could still grasp the message that they were trying to convey.  It made no sense, but that was how it seemed to me.

    Of course, the message that was being put across was also extremely complex, enough so that I could feel a headache coming on as I tried to grasp it.

    ¡®Let/allow/permit the light/benediction/blessing/attention/power of the heavens/domain of God/sanctuary of souls/seat of power almighty to permeate/infuse/bless/contaminate/empower this . . .¡¯

    It was incomplete, but just the few symbols that she had carved seemed to convey so much.  My rough mental translation was so inadequate, the concepts being conveyed being so much more than my paltry words could hope to express.  Hell, if I was to try to write it down I¡¯d probably be able to cover most of a page with just the description of the first concept.  It seemed to be about granting permission for something, but there was also the notion of a pact being entered into, assurances being given, a division of influence, and many, many, other things.  And all of that from just the first two symbols.

    It was incredible!

    ¡°Ummm, don¡¯t they need to be empowered for the ritual to work?¡±

    I asked, trying to take my mind off the unbelievable complexity of what I had just read.  Didn¡¯t she say that once they were empowered they¡¯d contain even more information?  No wonder she¡¯d said reading them like that could effectively turn my brain into pudding.  But that did bring up the question I had just asked, after all, presumably simple markings on their own wouldn¡¯t be enough.

    ¡°Empowering them is no great task once they have been carved,¡± She assured me. ¡°It is akin to pouring water into channels that have already been cut out.  I have sufficient strength to empower them all when the time is ripe, though you will need to be careful not to stare at them.¡±

    Seeing me nod she gestured towards the farmhouse.

    ¡°Perhaps it would be best if you retired for now.  It is best not to expose you to more of the language of the Heavens, not until you are empowered enough to be able to handle it.  Once the ritual is complete you should be more able to read them without danger.¡±

    I nodded again, agreeing with the logic of it.  However, on a purely emotional level I didn¡¯t like it, it felt as though I was a child being told to leave the dangerous work to the adults.

    I was self-aware enough to realise this was an emotional, rather than a logical, reaction, but it still stung.  That said I didn¡¯t let it dictate my actions and I turned towards the building.  As though she could read my thoughts Joan called after me.

    ¡°Make sure to rest well, this evening the ritual is going be hard on you, save all the energy you can!¡±

    Well, that wasn¡¯t ominous in the least, now was it?

 Chapter 9: Preparations: Part Three

    It had taken her a long time to get here, longer than she would have been willing to endure under any other circumstances.  The time it had taken had been fairly rapid by mortal standards, but not to her.  She had railed against each and every delay.  The time in one of the mortal vehicles, the ferry across the channel, slipping through the border, more of those four-wheeled motors.  She had wanted to scream in frustration every time a new obstacle arose and she was forced to change her plans.

    Once, oh-so-long-ago, she would have been able to make this journey in the space of a few modern minutes.  It would have been so easy, so simple, but such options no longer were available to her, not now.  In time that might change, especially if her hopes played out as she thought they would, but that was a matter for the future.  For now, all she could do was trust in her arts to lead her in the correct direction, even as she strove to smother any hint of her own power.

    The agent of Heaven had been swift and powerful, but she had also been young, oh so very inexperienced.  Even with their light blazing brightly enough to burn away any hint of their passage they had left a trail that could be followed if one knew how to find it.

    Mortal magic would have been hard-pressed to detect it, even gods would have struggled.  It was a question of knowing what to look for, not raw power.  True, a deity of the hunt or a deity of magic would have been able to brute-force such a detection, but for those without such specialized powers, the trail would have been invisible.  The only reason she could follow it was due to her carefully amassed knowledge.

    She felt an all too familiar surge of frustration at that thought.  Once she wouldn¡¯t have had to worry about knowledge and secrets.  Once she would have been strong enough to rely on nothing but her own power.

    Taking a deep breath she let the emotion go.  It didn¡¯t matter, her strength was meaningless if she couldn¡¯t use it, her power all but worthless when she had to hide it.  Oh, she could use both in subtle manners, but she could not afford to draw the attention that she might if she were to use both without care.

    Her thoughts came to an end as the small vehicle she was in pulled over to the side of the road and then came to a stop.

    ¡°We¡¯re here, Miss.  That¡¯ll be eighty-eight francs.¡±

    With a sigh, she dug into her jacket and pulled out her beaten old wallet.  She could afford to pay for her transport, but this would be the majority of her remaining funds.  Well, with any luck she wouldn¡¯t be needing to concern herself with money in the near future.  Counting out the bills she handed them over to the middle-aged man that had been driving the vehicle.  He took them, counted them himself, and then nodded to her.  She idly remembered a time when she would happily have flayed the living flesh from his bones for daring to imply that her count could have been wrong.  Funny how things changed.

    Shortly thereafter she was standing at the side of the road watching as the mortal transport drove off in a cloud of dust.  It was an interesting thing that the humans had created, she mused, a vehicle propelled by harnessing fire into motion.  The last time she had been active in the mortal world had been more than two hundred years ago. Back then mortals had considered riding in pretty carts pulled by beasts to be the height of sophistication.  This new ingenuity of theirs was . . . interesting, almost inspirational.  Mentally she began to design a vehicle of her own, one powered by the etheric forces of the world rather than by the burning of ancient oils.  Yes, it would not be difficult, not when compared to some of her previous works, so she could-

    She shook her head, trying her best to chase such thoughts away.  She had neither the time nor the resources to consider such a project at this time.  In the future . . . maybe, depending on how things transpired in the next few weeks.  But for now, patience would have to be exercised.

    She heaved another sigh as she shouldered her bag and turned to stare at the simple dirt road that led away into the fields.  As she did so she hitched up her hood so it covered more of her face, casting it into shadows despite the sun beating down upon her.  Life just hadn¡¯t been easy, not for the last two millennia.  Well, she had known that this would not be a simple path to walk when she had set out upon it, but then again if it had been then it wouldn¡¯t have been worth it.  He had convinced her that this wasn¡¯t just some mad dream, that this was something that could actually happen.  All these centuries she had put her faith in him being right about this, just as he¡¯d been right about so much else.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    As she took her first steps down the road, she couldn¡¯t help but notice the state of the clothing she wore and let out a bark of laughter.

    Here she was, clad in clothing that was only a step away from being the sort of garb worn by the beggars of this era, and she was doing it of her own choice.  She, who had once possessed silks and leathers of the finest design, who had slept in palaces and owned such treasures as to make the wealthiest emperor weep with envy.  The irony was deliciously bitter.

    Banishing such thoughts from her mind she focused on her goal.  The farmstead where the agent was keeping her target was about a couple of hours'' walk away, maybe longer.  Walking was the only option available to her at the moment, and she could not afford to go faster than a mortal would have done.  Any overt uses of her power were simply too risky this close to her goal, so walking it was. It was alright though; she wasn¡¯t in too much of a hurry.  Despite the mortal methods she had been forced to use she had made decent time, at this moment the sun was still high in the sky, and that left her plenty of time to reach the farmstead before darkness fell.

    She knew that the ritual the agent would be using to awaken Adam¡¯s blood would most likely be tonight; she just didn¡¯t know what kind of ritual it would be.  The moon was to be full tonight, and if what she remembered of the favoured rituals of Heaven was right then this would be an ideal opportunity to awaken the divine power within him.  However, there were several other factors that could be brought in that could change the nature of the rest of the ceremony.

    Well, she doubted that a servant of the Heavens would be open to the idea of using live sacrifices to perform the awakening.  That method would be . . . efficient, especially if others of divine bloodlines could be used as fodder, but its distasteful nature meant that such a choice was unlikely.  An alternative was that this area was far from any other major mortal habitation, and the land was rich and fertile.  Perhaps they planned to harvest lifeforce from the area rather than from a living being.  While such a drain would render the land bleak and barren for years it would recover in time, so that would be a more palatable option for those constrained by morals.  Still, who knew how many animals would be killed or displaced by the results?  Given that the entire local ecology would be devastated, if not outright destroyed, by the use of such an option, it was probably off the table as well, so long as better options existed.

    So that left other methods for amassing the power needed.  Things such as invoking gods and begging for their aid were possible, but the forces of Heaven very rarely chose to approach the pantheons from anything other than a position of strength.  A deal could be cut, she supposed, but on a matter such as the awakening of the demigod¡¯s blood . . . it was unlikely.  Given his potential power, bringing in others before he¡¯d come into that power was asking for trouble.

    That left either harvesting ambient power from greater sources, such as the world¡¯s atmosphere, the sun, the moon, or the stars.  Then there was using reagents or artefacts found in old temples or sacred locations to provide the initiating power for the ritual.  There were a great number of items in the world, or in the vaults of Heaven, that could provide all the energy that would be needed.  Artefacts also had the advantage of being more portable, meaning that there was greater freedom of location, but even so, a site of some sort would be of value.

    She wasn¡¯t entirely sure of which method was going to be used.  This out-of-the-way location had clearly been prepared beforehand, indicating that they weren¡¯t planning to move anywhere.  However, this very isolation meant there were no nearby sites of significance to be had, not even old ruins buried beneath the ground.

    There was just too much that she didn¡¯t know, too much that she¡¯d just have to deal with.  It was best to focus on what she knew, what she was certain of.

    Glancing up at the sun she saw that it would soon be going down.  She had perhaps an hour of sunlight left, possibly even less.  That was fine though, she could perform the preparations that she needed from where she was in the time that remained.

    Kneeling where she stood and unshouldering her bag, she reached down and drew out a pair of metal sticks, each one a foot in length and sharpened at one end.  Had anyone else been present they might have commented on the simple beauty of the slim rods.  Each seemed to have a rippling pattern upon them, as the metal shifted hue from silvery steel to bright copper, to shining gold, to an odd red colour that seemed unusual for a metal.  The effect was quite lovely, an image of many ores and colours forged together into something that would not have been out of place in an art gallery.

    Without a moment of hesitation, she drove the spikes into the earth, the points digging deeply into the soft soil until only a finger width remained above the ground.

    With the metal rods buried, she took out some packages and tore them open.  One contained small bangles made from tiny bones and amber beads, which she hung about her neck outside her hoodie.  Another was a powder of some black shiny substance which she scattered liberally around the area.  Another held a thick resin of a dark blue colour which she used to anoint the ends of the rods that remained above the earth.  Another package held some dried leaves that almost crumbled to the touch.  These she buried in the ground using the heel of her old sneaker to dig a shallow hole, then push the dirt back over them.  The last of the small bundles of paper revealed a vial of poisonously green liquid which she quickly swallowed before sitting down between the buried metal rods.

    ¡°Now, I just have to wait.¡± She muttered to herself as she watched the sun slowly descend.

 Chapter 10: Ritual At Sunset: Part One

    Chapter 10: Ritual At Sunset

    ¡°Adam?  Are you ready?¡±

    I looked up from where I was sitting at the dining room table to see Joan poking her head around the partly opened main door.  Behind her, the day was growing dark.  It seemed like only a few minutes ago that I had sat down.  Was it that late?  Glancing at the sheet of paper I¡¯d been scribbking on I saw that it was largely covered, the work of quite some time.

    Maybe I had let things get away from me.

    I¡¯d have liked to say that I had sat down and written a letter to my parents, a last message in case the worst were to happen.  I¡¯d have liked to say that it was a will, instructions for my friends to help themselves to my few prized possessions.  I¡¯d liked it to have been something solemn, something befitting of the gravity of the coming moments.

    Instead, due to a lifetime of sci-fi and fantasy, plus hours on Divine Versus lately, it was something else entirely.  It was just my thoughts written down as soon as they occurred to me.  It might not be important, but if I managed to make it through the coming ritual it would be fun to look back on it.

    Superpowers Wishlist

    Invulnerability: Having bullets bouncing off me would be awesome.

    Lightning bolts? Sith lightning would be cool.

    Telekinesis: Could I do the Force Choke?

    Intangibility: Be the ghost!  Nothing can touch me!

    Super Strength? Hercules got this, also awesome!

    Sword of light like Joan! Possible, angel blood?

    Fireballs! The dream of every D&D player everywhere!

    Teleportation! Know that some gods have it, would make life so much easier!

    Flight/Wings/Floating: Nope, not going with this one if I have a choice!

    Voice of the Heavens!  Siren song?  Sonic Scream? Maybe just makes me a really good orator?  Could I learn to sing?

    Fireworks: I think I saw one of the demigod videos online show this off, the ability to create a firework show at will.  Could I? Not useful, but cool.

    Holy Aura!  Do I want this one?  Wasn¡¯t there some sci-fi film where a character got this and ended up melting everyone he touched?

    Magic missile blitz barrage!  Not sure how likely this is, but it would be awesome!

    Magic Armour of some sort?  Lots of demigods in legends have had this.

    A Weapon? Do I want one?  Something like Mjolnir?

    Cooking?  Wasn¡¯t there some Viking god that had a pig that came back to life every time it was cooked?

    Flaming Sword, AKA Lightsabre: A classic!

    Smiting!  Would that be lightning from the sky or just any general bad luck taken to the max?

    Healing: Useful, powerful, in demand!

    Grow Crops! Bounty of the Earth, the King has this, could be useful.

    Immortality, do I want it?

    Control of Flies/Frog/Gnats/Locust: Plagues of Egypt, could I do them?

    Kame Hame Ha!  Would be awesome, would be terrible, unlikely though.

    Super transformation?  Henshin for the win!

    Lions!  Don¡¯t lions have something to do with Heaven?  Could I get a pet lion?

    Servitor angels?  Demon summoners can call up demons, could I do the same with angels?

    Divine armour!  Never mind, already wrote that one down.

    Make a sanctuary?  Bless an area?  Wasn¡¯t there an angel in Canada that did that?

    Massive death ball attack?  Doubt it, cool thought though.

    Minions?  Some demigods can call up things like dead souls to help them, could be cool.

    Telepathy!  Read the mind, control the mind.  Do I want that?

    As I stood up, I gave my list a last quick look over.   Kame Hame Ha, really?  Sith and Jedi?  Well, it had helped me pass the time.

    ¡°Is it time already?¡±

    Without a word she gestured to the sky behind her, a sky already speckled with the first stars to come out.  The sun was so low that the bottom of it was already vanishing below the horizon.  Just a few more minutes and it would be gone.

    ¡°Ah, dusk.¡±

    Here I was, about to gain the sorts of powers that were starting to shape the world and I was . . . what?  I wasn¡¯t exactly scared, I would have been able to recognize that. Strangely, the closest thing I could think to compare it to would have been walking into an important test that you weren¡¯t sure you were ready for.  That uncertainty if you¡¯d studied the right things, if you¡¯d taken enough time.

    ¡°Should I . . . do anything before we start?¡±

    I mumbled inanely.

    ¡°There is no need, everything is ready.¡±

    There was a slight rebuke in there.  She could see my hesitation, and she was telling me to deal with it.  And you know what?  She was right!  I¡¯d had days to get to grips with this, I had literally spent hours getting beaten up and then healed in preparation for this.  Why was I acting like this?

    Stepping away from the table I set my pen down and nodded to the French saint.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m ready.¡±

    She nodded back, then began to walk towards the clearing she¡¯d made in the grass.  Wordlessly I followed, doing all I could to try to calm the swarm of moths that seemed to have taken up residence in my stomach.  As I walked, I repeated in my head that I trusted her, that I¡¯d known this was coming.  But even as I did it my mind treacherously kept bringing up questions in return.  Why did I have to go through with this?  Why had I agreed?  Would this change me, change who I was?  Would I be the same person once I had my powers? Would I still be me?

    And beyond that, what about what was going to come next?  I was going to . . . what?  Fight gods?  Confront the forces of Hell?  Police the demigods of the world?  Why?  No, more importantly, how? Gods were absurdly powerful! Even if I did have the power needed, did I have the temperament?  Was I going to make a mess of it?  Oh God, how many people could die if I ended up making a mess of this?

    With every step I took more and more doubts rose up in my mind, like weeds growing to choke a garden!  My legs became unsteady under me.  It was ridiculous, I¡¯d heard about going weak at the knees in fear before, but it was not something that I¡¯d ever experienced.  Public speaking, roller coasters, even living through the Black Sun, none of that had ever left me feeling like this did. But now, it was getting hard to just put one foot in front of another.

    I was about halfway across the gravel courtyard; up ahead of me I could see the tree trunks laying on the cut grass, the whole thing centring upon an altar-like structure that Joan must have put together after I had left.  Upon it was a large shallow metal bowl, its bronze colour flashing in the descending sun.  As I looked at it the ritual site seemed to grow in my vision, everything else falling away until it was all I could see.  It seemed to loom over me, an almost predatory presence waiting to pounce and devour me whole.  My life, my identity, my peace of mind, all of it would be swallowed up by what was waiting for me.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    I suppose one of my legs must have gone out from under me at that point, because suddenly I was on my knees and panting as though I had just run a marathon.  The gravel only a couple of feet from my eyes seemed to swim before me as I struggled to keep my stomach from rebelling.  Why?  Why was this happening now?  Come on, I¡¯d known this was coming!  I¡¯d had days to get at least some of my head around it!  So why was it all hitting me like a truckload of bricks now?

    ¡°Easy Adam, easy.¡±

    Even though my heartbeat was pounding as loud as a drum in my ears I could still hear Joan¡¯s words as she knelt beside me.  I couldn¡¯t see her, not with my vision blurred as it was, but I could feel the warmth of her hand as it held my shoulder, even catch the now familiar scent of her armour¡¯s metal and the flowery scent that seemed natural to her, as she leaned in closer.

    ¡°I . . . I know that this is much that is being asked of you,¡± she began, and I heard hesitation in her voice for the first time. ¡°I know that you must feel overwhelmed by all this, but I beg you, please be strong!¡±

    ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t know if I can do this.¡±  I admitted, struggling to get myself under control once more.

    ¡°Do not doubt yourself,¡± She declared, her hand squeezing my shoulder. ¡°Adam . . . there is nothing I can say that will completely assuage any fears you might have, but I shall keep telling you this as long as you need to hear it; you can do this, you do not need to fear it!  I have faith in you, and I have faith in the Lord, He told me that I should find you, and he would never give you a task you could not surmount!¡±

    There was nothing new to what she was saying, but it was something, something to hold onto, something to cling to.  Still, I felt full of doubts.

    ¡°Joan, I¡¯m . . . Look, I . . . are you sure it¡¯s me that should be here?  I . . . come on, there¡¯s no way it could be me!  Are you sure this isn¡¯t just a mistake?!  There¡¯s got to be some-¡±

    ¡°Adam!¡±

    The way that Joan cut me off as she barked my name made me think of a drill sergeant.  There was authority in her tone, not an authority that she had ever exercised before.  Authority I could no more ignore than I could gravity.

    ¡°Adam, look.¡±

    With her assurance of my attention, her voice had grown softer, but there was still steel in it that would not let me ignore her.  Nor would it allow me to ignore what was in her hand as she held it out to me.  It was one of the feathers she had shown me before, but now it was glowing with a soft white light.  What was even stranger was that as Joan held the feather closer to me I could see an answering glow emanating from beneath my skin.  It was weak, nowhere near as bright as the feathers themselves, but it was there, and it was coming from me.

    ¡°Do you see?  The feathers call to the blood within you, and there is power there that answers.  This is no mistake, Adam; this is what needs to happen.¡±

    She pulled the feathers back, then gently pushed on my shoulder so that I turned to face her.  The resurrected saint¡¯s face was close, only slightly more than a foot away from my own.  Her expression was earnest, but there was a hint of something else there, not fear, but mayde some sort of trepidation.

    ¡°Adam, things are going to get worse in the world.  At this moment, all the gods and other legends are taking joy in their new freedom, in having returned to the mortal realm with their true powers.  For ages they have been forced to come here as mortals, with dulled memories and diluted emotions.  Now they are here unchecked, save for the whims of their fellows.

    ¡°Alors, some of them have chosen to enjoy this modern world without disrupting it.  They have seen the joys of modern conveniences and luxuries and wish to retain them.  Your world has done well to adapt, to house them and even take advantage of them, but there are others that are not so . . . aminable.

    ¡°There are gods and monsters that would happily see all civilization crumble to ruin and for humanity to return to wild tribes living in caves and forests.  Others would prefer to rule with an iron fist, to allow no civilisation or society not shaped by them to exist.  There will be those that covet what a nation can offer them, others that revile the same nation for even existing.  There shall be clashes of wills, of ideologoes, of morals, of egos.

    ¡°Do you know what will happen then, Adam?  Conflict, conflict between gods!  Conflict between their followers!  Conflict between their servants!

    ¡°But that shall not be all.  Adam, this shall not be as it was before, when mortals were merely armed with sharpened metal and simple armour.  In the centuries that mankind has been free of divinities your knowledge and technology have advanced vastly.  Even in less than six centuries, from the time I lived as a mortal, you have gone from hurling lumps of metal with cannons to razing cities from across the world.  This time humanity will not be mere pawns for the gods to move.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then her eyes fixed on mine, and for a moment I saw something unexpected in her gaze.

    Fear.

    ¡°Mortal kind may not be able to destroy the gods with their weapons crafted by science, but you are fully capble of destroying yourselve in the attempt.  Mankind¡¯s defiance could leave this entire world a scorched cinder spinning through space.

    ¡°Do you understand?  We, you, me, the others that will come, we all have to keep the world from going mad!  We have to extinguish the small fires before they can grow.  I was sent to aid you as I can, but I cannot do it without you, I simply do not have the power.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then pulled back, holding up the feathers again.

    ¡°I am a fully mortal soul, even by His grace there is only so much power that can be attached to me as I am.  You though . . . you have the blood of one the highest of angels in your veins, and another such is your parent.  God himself spoke of the strength you shall possess, and that strength is needed if we wish to preserve this world.  Do you understand, Adam? I . . . I cannot do this without you.¡±

    The panic that had been boiling within me was . . . I supposed ¡®stilling¡¯ was the best word to describe it.  It remained, how could it not, but it no longer seethed as it had.  Instead, it just sat there, a lead weight in my stomach, as I processed what I¡¯d been told.

    ¡°I know, I know that it is a huge burden to place upon you!  I wished to wait until you had your full power before telling you, I thought that it would be easier to bear with the might of divinity within you, but . . . but you need to know.  Adam, I shall not lie to you, what is coming will not be easy, it will not be painless, but it is something that needs to be done!  If it is left alone then many will suffer, many will die, and I know that you are not a man that will simply allow that to happen, so please, please find your courage!¡±

    If one just took the words on their own, then it might have been mistaken for emotional blackmail.  But with that near desperate catch in her voice, with that expression of pleading, with those eyes, there was no way to miss her genuine sincerity.

    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  Then I did it again.  And a third time for good measure.

    It worked because I could feel the tightness in my chest loosening, the lump in my stomach fading slightly.  I was still nervous as hell, but I wasn¡¯t having a panic attack anymore.

    ¡°O . . . okay,¡± I managed to say.  ¡°I . . . th-think I¡¯ve got it back together.¡±

    Shakily I got back to my feet.  Sure, my steps were wobbly, but I was able to take them.  All I had to do was follow Joan¡¯s instructions and get through this ritual.  Once that was done . . . well, I wasn¡¯t too sure what came next, but getting this done first was at least a step in the right direction.  I could do that, I could!

    Looking up I got my first good look at the completed ritual site.  To my eyes, the resurrected saint had done a splendid job.  The basic octagonal layout remained, but now the details were far more refined.  Each trunk had a smooth surface carved into its upward face, and every one of them had beautifully detailed carvings inscribed upon them.  I could see glimpses of the Enochian I had seen before, but I deliberately didn¡¯t look at that too closely.   There were other languages though, I could recognize lines written in the Latin and Greek alphabets.  Runes that might have been Nordic in nature, and even something that looked like Egyptian hieroglyphs, but that was it.  There had to be dozens of different languages here, each trunk adorned with both the language of angels and the languages of mortals.

    ¡°What¡¯s . . . all this?¡±

    I asked, one arm waving to indicate all the carved logs before us.

    ¡°Do you mean the inscriptions?¡±

    At my answering nod, she continued.

    ¡°Though we seek to awaken the blood in you that is tied to the Heavens, the Lord advised me that your powers are also tied to the earth, or rather to the mortal realm.  What these inscriptions do is allow me to use the connections that certain deities have to this plane to strengthen your bond to the Earth.  Hopefully, this will increase the strength to which you shall awaken.  To do this gods of various types need to be invoked.  The names of angels will provide a link to the Heavens, but the names and natures of the gods will provide ties to the Earth.  That is the main aim of this ritual, to grant you as many links to power when your blood is Awakened in order to give you the most power possible.¡±

    Okay, that made sense, sort of.  It was generally known by now that there where were many factors that tied into the strength of a child of divinity, such as the concentration of the divine blood they held, the strength of the source of that blood, or their own compatibility with it.  It made sense that Joan would do her best to make sure that I¡¯d be as strong as I could be; if just a fraction of the stuff she¡¯d talked about was heading our way then I wanted every edge I could get my hands on.

    ¡°Earth is connected to the ritual through the invocation of the gods of the Earth; Heaven is invoked through the Enochian names of angels that have pledged their support to this endeavour.  Above us the moon is full, and I have inscribed the names of many lunar deities into the centrepiece of the circle.  Lastly, there is fire, a fire that burns the wood of an old tree of this forest, a tree that has experienced much of the fury of the elements.¡±

    Joan paused for a moment, clearly taking a certain level of pride in what she¡¯d managed to set up, she then glanced up at the sky and her face set into a determined line.

    ¡°It will soon be time, Adam.¡±  She gestured to a spot on the other side of the altar. ¡°Please stand there, I¡¯ll begin to draw in power from the various links that have been made.  Once sufficient power has been accumulated, I will pour it into you using the feathers as a channel to tie it to their Heavenly power.  The combination and scale of it should be enough to awaken you to the natural peak of your abilities.¡±

    I nodded, then started to make my way over to the spot she¡¯d indicated.  Once there I turned back to face her.

    ¡°Just here?¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± She replied. ¡°Now, close your eyes, Adam, I shall be empowering the runes, and we need to avoid what happened before with the Enochian.¡±

    Great, so not only did I have to go through a life-changing ritual right now, while I was not at my best, but I also had to do it while my eyes were closed.

    Oh well, if that was the worst that I had to deal with in this whole thing then I suppose I should be grateful.

 Chapter 10: Ritual At Sunset: Part Two

    ¡°No!  No, this can¡¯t be happening right now!¡±

    The scarred man prodded the orb of blood and mercury that was hovering over the large map, but it didn¡¯t shift, no matter what he did.  Slowly the formerly bloody globe was shifting to pure pristine silver, something that should not have been happening.  Grimacing in frustration he reached to the side and picked up a long-carved bone.  The instrument was weathered by age, the bone well on its way to hardening into stone.  It had been carved by a master of the mystic arts, and even as old as it was, it held power.

    The new room in which he was working was provided by his host.  It was a large chamber, and it had to be so it could accommodate the silken map of Western Europe that had been unrolled across the floor.  The map was enormous, easily ten feet on a side, and incredibly detailed, a masterwork.  Despite having been made of silk the lines and dots upon it had been dyed in with the most cutting-edge technology and detailed to an almost absurd degree.  The cost of producing this map could have easily purchased a luxury car, but as far as the scarred man was concerned it had been money well spent.

    Silk, especially silk of the quality and purity used in this map, was an excellent component in the use of magic.  The nature of the silken threads was perfect to conduct the etheric powers that he used upon them.  Had the map been made from paper or plastic then it would have just shrivelled up and crumbled, even a metal one would have heated up and then melted in fairly short order.  This though, a map inscribed upon a medium of organic material of superior quality, could endure the power, resisting damage as a raincoat would water droplets.

    All of his tools were like that, the best he could get, purchased with the riches he had gained through the use of his magic.  True, he might not be in the same league as his host, but he had invested his earnings in the tools that would grant him more power, and he felt that it had been the correct choice.

    Unfortunately, at this precise moment, those tools were not giving him the answer he wanted.  Instead, they continued to show him results that he did not want to see.

    Again, he waved the carved bone over the map, and the glowing orb hovering over it faded away, only to be replaced by many lines flowing across the map.  These were lines he was familiar with, being the natural channels of magical power that now flowed through the land after the gods had returned.  He had been mapping them for weeks now, and he was certain that he was the greatest authority on them in the mortal realm.  Certainly, some deities would know more than him, but among mortal practitioners, he was sure that none surpassed him.

    And at that moment the knowledge he had so painfully and carefully accrued was telling him that things were going to hell, at least as far as he was concerned.

    The lines of power had bent, several of them coming together to form a tight knot before continuing on their previous path.  The power continued to flow, but that spot, that knot, it was now the site of an enormous concentration of power.  What was even worse was that the ambient energy in that area was slowly being purified of the terrestrial elements that were natural parts of the world¡¯s magical forces.  The result of this was a slowly growing pool of power that could only be recognized as being of one origin.

    Heaven.

    Damnation!  It had only been a few hours since his efforts had finally closed in and locked onto the position of the target he and his ally had been searching for.  Since then his ally had been making the final preparations to the forces they had assembled for the task before them.  Given that all indications pointed towards their target having remained in more or less the same area for the entire time since they had slipped from sight, the scarred man and his fellow acolyte had thought that they could take a short time to build their forces and prepare the best operation that they could.  The plan had been to launch a surprise assault in the early hours of the morning, shortly before sunrise, in hopes of catching the agent of Heaven off guard.  Once the agent was neutralized they¡¯d be able to bring in the demigod with minimal resistance.

    This, however, threw those plans into chaos!

    ¡°ACOLYTE!¡±

    He shouted the title that his ally insisted he address them by as he dashed out of the room he¡¯d been working in.  Technically that title could be applied to both of them, but he acknowledged that his associate was the first to enter their patron¡¯s service, and as such, they held the greater right to the title.  He also understood why they insisted on being addressed by that title rather than their name, why they insisted on concealing their features, their voice, even their gender.  The scarred mage had little in the way of connections, even before he¡¯d tried to walk the path of magic.  Few friends, little family. Even his bank account had been unimpressive, and his property even less so.  It had been easy for him to cast it all away so that he could focus on the path he had chosen.

    His ally though seemed to possess all that he¡¯d never had, wealth, property, influence and power, and seemed to have possessed them even before stepping upon the path of magic.  The secrecy they seemed to constantly wear like a cloak was probably tied to their true life, a life they desperately sought to protect.  He didn¡¯t know if it was due to fear that their other life might be ruined if their mastery of magic became known.  Maybe they had family that would disapprove, maybe they had obligations to uphold, maybe they wished to avoid a media storm if their identity was uncovered.  Or, perhaps, they were simply paranoid, it wasn¡¯t his place to question it, and, in truth, he didn¡¯t really care.  The Acolyte was powerful and competent, as long as that remained true he could overlook many eccentricities.

    ¡°Acolyte!¡±

    His second shout was less desperate than his first, but that was only because he realized that since his robe-wearing ally was most likely out in the courtyard it was unlikely they¡¯d be able to hear him regardless of how loudly he shouted.  Instead, he preserved his breath and wove a quick spell, sending the message to his host.

    He didn¡¯t have to wait long, only a few seconds after he sent the message the air before him rippled, and the robed form of his ally stepped out of the shimmer as though from behind a curtain.  Even though he had been aware of it being part of their skills the casual display of power still took him aback.  Teleportation was one of the most intricate and costly forms of magic he knew of.

    He didn¡¯t know what steps they¡¯d taken to gain such power, but he was fairly sure that they weren¡¯t ones that he would have been willing to use himself.  Gods, demons, even angels, any number of them could grant a mortal power that would set them years ahead of their fellows, but there was always a price to be paid.  He wondered what price his ally had paid for their strength.

    ¡°What is it?  Has something gone wrong?  Has the target moved?¡±

    The questions were asked quickly and precisely, and the scarred man found himself admiring his host¡¯s control.

    ¡°No, something has changed though!  There is a great accumulation of magical power at the site where the target is, much of it shifting to a Heavenly alignment!  My best guess is that they¡¯re either getting ready to awaken the demigod¡¯s divine blood, or they¡¯re going to try to summon another Heavenly agent to their side.  Either way, we have a problem, do we not?  We have some time, the power is building slowly, but we must act!¡±

    The only reply was a sharp noise of dissatisfaction from within the darkened hood.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to understand their frustration, as neither of those scenarios would be desirable.  A second agent protecting the demigod would make their task of bringing them to their patron that much more difficult.  Even a resurrected soul could be a challenge to work around, and should they summon up a full-blooded angel then it would be at least a magnitude more difficult to deal with, quite possibly flat-out beyond their abilities.  Troublesome as that would be, it was still the preferred scenario.  Their patron wanted this demigod while they were still mortal before their divine blood had awakened.  Though for just what reason the scarred man was uncertain.

    The blood of demigods was a powerful magical reagent, so he could only imagine how strong such things as his heart or liver might be.  If such were harvested before their divine blood was empowered then they might not be as powerful, but they could possess other qualities that would make them just as valuable.  Still, he did not believe his patron would have invested as much time and energy in the capture of this demigod simply for spare parts like a car at a chop shop.

    No, but a young and unawakened demigod, one that was guaranteed to be powerful, one that could be educated, trained to be loyal and dedicated to his patron before they gained power, that was another matter.  Once loyal they could then be Awakened by a method that would ensure their maximum possible strength.  Now, that was a prize that would be worth all the time and resources that were being allocated to this endeavour.

    Gods were powerful, far more so than mortals could ever be, but this was the mortal plane, and it was named thus because it was the mortals that it belonged to.  For all their power there were some places, secret places, that were denied to the gods.  Some laws governed what they could do, equally secret laws.  These limitations did not apply to demigods, which was why they could be so valuable to their divine parents.

    Whatever the case might be, their failure to deliver their prize was not an outcome either of them wanted.  Their patron was not so foolish as to dispose of servants over a single failure, but both he and his host had yet to disappoint them, and neither of them felt eager to begin to do so.

    ¡°Are your forces ready?  The Maiden of Orleans will not be easy meat.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    At his words, the hooded head of the acolyte nodded emphatically before they reached out and grabbed his shoulder.  He only just had enough time to set his spells to wait for him, before he was pulled through another shimmer in the air, only to find himself somewhere totally different.

    The hall he found himself in was huge.  No, the word ¡®huge¡¯ simply didn¡¯t do it the justice it deserved!  ¡®Massive¡¯ might have been a bit more accurate, but even that wasn¡¯t quite up to describing it.  During his travels around Europe, the scarred man had been to the great cathedrals of the middle ages, ancient buildings of wood and stone with great vaulted ceilings that seemed to at once drink up noise and echo it cavernously.  In his youth, he had found such places to be intimidating in their solemn grandeur, even as he was awed by them.

    This cavern that he now stood in could have held one of those massive old cathedrals all the way up to the bell tower, and still have room to spare.  Looking about him almost wildly, the dark-haired mage saw that rather than being a constructed chamber this place seemed to be some sort of natural cave.  The walls, the ground, even the high-up ceiling, all of it seemed to be carved from the same dark rock that was common to the region.  Was this gargantuan cave hidden in the mountains that framed the back of his host¡¯s castle?  He could not see how given that the mountains were not that high.

    The massive chamber was well lit, hundreds of brightly glowing magic symbols carved into the walls and roof of the cavern providing ample light.  For a moment he wondered just how the acolyte had found the time and equipment to reach such difficult places and carve such complex designs.  Then he saw just what the light was illuminating, and all other thoughts fled his mind.

    Magic circles were a common term that was used to describe the circular inscriptions that were used in dozens of different mystic arts across the world.  Circles were powerful shapes in that they were perfectly equal all the way around, with no points of concentration of weakness.  It was this quality that made circles so useful, and that was why they appeared in so many forms of magic.

    The ground of this enormous chamber was awash with magical circles, dozens of them.  From what he could see each of them was quite intricate, with small only variations popping up from one to another, even though the general design remained the same.  What was of even more interest, though, was what the circles appeared to contain.

    The scarred man had seen demons before.  On assignment from his patron, he¡¯d had interactions with various demonic agents of varying levels of power.  The weakest that he¡¯d ever dealt with had been an imp, a demonic spirit barely larger than a toy action figure.  That had been nothing to be concerned with, a normal mortal might have reason to fear it, but to one with his power, it was no threat.   By contrast, the strongest that he had ever faced had been a greater demon.  That had been terrifying since greater demons were the direct servants of the upper demonic nobility.  The common currency in the hells was power, and none became significant without it.  A greater demon was far beyond him, a peak of might that he might be able to reach in time, but which was decades away at the very earliest.  Yes, he knew the feeling of demonic power . . .

    So, what was it that he was looking at?

    Sitting cross-legged in each of the circles was a . . . figure.  That was the only word he could think of to describe what he was seeing.  They were made of flesh, and their forms were humanoid in that they had arms and legs, a torso and a head, but they were more like manikins than real living beings.  Every one of them was naked, but their forms were smooth, with no trace of hairs, or features, no sign of things like nipples or genitals.  Their heads were bald as eggs and even the features of their faces were flat.  Their eyes were closed but seemed to be more like slits in their faces, and their mouths were little more than a tear into their flesh that was held closed by their jaws.  Even their noses were distorted, flattened as though something had pressed them down.  But these were not the only details that were unnerving.  Their limbs were a bit off, their forearms a little too long, their feet a bit too large, and their skin a bit too pallid.  Each alone would have been odd, but all taken together . . . .   Well, these things appeared human in only the roughest sense of the word.

    But it was more than just their physical appearance that made his breath catch, it was the aura that they radiated, the unmistakable burn of demonic power.

    ¡°What . . . what are they?¡±

    He asked the question in a hushed tone, as though afraid that if he spoke too loudly then he might draw the attention of whatever these creatures were.

    ¡°Did you think that my interest in the Golem had sprung out of nowhere?¡±  His robed host asked, their voice tinged with mild amusement. ¡°This was the first art that our patron showed me how to perfect, the creation of true homunculi!  Such a . . . flexible art!¡±

    The art that they spoke of was one that the scarred man was familiar with.  As with the creation of golems, the art of homunculi creation tried to imitate the divine creation of humanity, using a base substance such as mud or wood.  It was taken further though, in that the materials were in one way or another transformed into real flesh.  Such beings could be the size of normal people, or they could be tiny misshapen things grown inside large bottles, or they could be massive shambling monsters the size of small giants.  The only real limits were the skills of the maker and the limit of the resources they had access to.

    Yes, he could see how these would be such creatures, but that didn¡¯t explain the demonic energy that he could feel radiating from them like heat from an oven.

    It was strange, they weren¡¯t overwhelmingly powerful, of that he was certain.  If he¡¯d had to give them a ranking according to his experience with the powers of hell then he would have placed them as common foot soldiers.  Such demonic soldiers were powerful, at least from a mortal¡¯s perspective, able to shrug off mundane weapons and tear their way through buildings with ease.  But that power was shallow, a mortal with magic and talent could face one or two on his own and have a chance of victory.

    These . . . things, they felt like such demons, about as strong, but the power that radiated from them was . . . more concentrated.  Yes, that seemed a bit closer to what he was sensing.  Their power was still small, but that small power had somehow felt condensed, distilled.

    ¡°I would not get too near to them if I were you.¡±

    The comment from the robed figure came only an instant before the weird slits that were the eyes of the homunculus nearest to him snapped open.

    That would have been enough to startle him on its own.  But it was what those opened eyes revealed that was enough to make him stumble backwards.

    Nothing.

    There was nothing.

    Those eyes opened up into black pits.  There was no hint of anything in there, no organs, no demonic power, not even simple animal intellect, there was just nothing there at all.

    Even so, the dark-haired man couldn¡¯t help but feel certain that there was something there that was staring at him, measuring him, evaluating him with cold reason.  And that whatever was doing it was hungry.

    ¡°What ARE they?¡±

    He didn¡¯t stutter, he didn¡¯t let any of his concern sound in his voice.  He was very careful to maintain an iron grip upon just how unsettled he¡¯d been by the creature as he stared at his robe-wearing host.

    ¡°In many ways, they are one of my finest achievements,¡± Came the reply. ¡°I have studied homunculi creation, but wanted something fiercer and stronger.  These masterpieces are the result of my efforts.¡±

    ¡®Masterpieces¡¯?  That was not the term that the scarred man would have used to describe what he was seeing.  These things felt . . . wrong, that was the only way he could think of to describe them.

    ¡°These demon hosts are a great improvement, though their name is somewhat misleading.¡±

    ¡°Demon hosts?  Do you mean that you have implanted them with infernal spirits?¡±

    That was a very perilous path to take.  The appeal of homunculi was that, if created correctly, they would be loyal and obedient, but possess a measure of initiative and imagination.  Mixing that with demons risked what made homunculi valuable.  Demons could be reasoned with, but regardless of how submissive or fawning they might appear to be, treachery was in their very soul.

    And there were so many, there had to be dozens, possibly even hundreds.  To have that many demon hosts, even if they were manufactured bodies, was just insane.

    ¡°No, the only intelligence they have is that which I created for them.¡±

    What?  That made no sense; he could clearly feel the taint of demonic essence in them.

    ¡°They do have demonic energy, but there is no consciousness attached to it, simply raw power.  The homunculi simply hold and refine that power, adding to its potency by feeding the little magic their bodies produce into it.  The result is a pseudo-demon host, one without an actual demon to contend with.  They are stronger, faster and more vicious, but their obedience and loyalty in assured..¡±

    ¡°So . . . you intend to send these creatures after the demigod?  Is sending demonic foes against the Maiden of Orleans the best idea?  She is a servant of the Heavens, they will be a foe she is well suited to facing.¡±

    The question was valid.  There was also the issue as to whether or not they would be suited to the more delicate task of retrieving the demigod.  Beings powered by demonic essence sounded like fine attack dogs, but also something more suited to ripping a target apart rather than stealing it away.  He didn¡¯t voice his concern though, his ally was already set upon using these creations of theirs. Any questioning on his part would do little to sway them from that choice.

    ¡°I know they may not be enough, but then again, I have no intention of sending them on their own.¡±

    At the acolyte¡¯s words, the scarred man suddenly became aware of something moving in the darkness behind them.  Spinning around he found himself facing the massive form of the golem that he¡¯d seen his host unpacking only a few days before.  The lines of its body were lit by that dull internal glow, giving it an oddly hellish appearance despite its almost holy origins.  The construct appeared as though powered by a molten inside, a raging inferno only barely contained by a skin of stone and metal.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to send that with them?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the robed figure confirmed. ¡°My other creations have the advantage of numbers, but they might lack raw power.  This, though, I feel will be far more effective against the saint of France.  Divine magic was used in its creation.  Holy powers will wash off it like the surf upon a rock.¡±

    Yes, he could see where the use of this construct could be considered ideal in this situation.  The golem was well suited to fight against holy foes since it lacked any of the normal corruption or darkness that such powers could strike against.  Mindless and soulless as it was, the golem was no more good or evil than a stone that had been thrown.  It was powerful though, frighteningly so.  He could not get a grasp upon its limits, but he¡¯d have been willing to place a wager upon it had it been matched against even a higher demon from the pit.

    Against the reborn Maiden on Orleans . . . well, that would be determined by a multitude of factors.  He gave the golem good odds though.

    ¡°That could work.¡± he allowed turning to face his host as he spoke.

    ¡°It shall have to, we have no other choices.  I don¡¯t know about you, but I do not wish to fight a soul chosen and returned to life by the Lord of the High Heavens.¡±

    He could not disagree with them.  He might have gained power, but he had no illusions as to how he would stack up against a resurrected saint, especially upon the soil of her homeland.

    ¡°Very well, I shall find where to send them, then assist you in opening the portal, agreed?¡±

    He nodded again, reaching out to his spells to draw the knowledge he needed from them.  The location came easily to him, and so did an update of what those spells had observed.

    ¡°The accumulation has increased,¡± he stated, looking from the acolyte to the homunculi and back. ¡°If we wish to take the demigod still unempowered then we have to move quickly, our window of opportunity is closing.¡±

    The robed figure didn¡¯t reply, instead, they raised their hands and began to gather power.  The preparations to create a long-distance portal would not be lengthy, not with the measures that were already in place.  Soon all the forces they could muster would be dispatched after their target.

    He just hoped they would be enough.

 Chapter 11: Into the Fire: Part One

    Chapter 11: Into the Fire: Part One

    I¡¯d had thought there would be more participation involved in a ritual meant to grant me godly powers.  I¡¯d thought that there¡¯d be tests or trials, something like having to endure power being pushed into me, maybe something to prove I was worthy.  Visions, spirits quests, some sort of personal revelation.

    Around me, I could feel the air getting heavy, almost like just before a thunderstorm would hit, only many times over.  There was energy in the atmosphere, so thick it was almost stifling, but at the same time, it was energizing.  The air was so thick I found it hard to breathe, but so rich that I didn¡¯t need to breathe much.

    I could hear things too, the whistle of the wind and it seemed to circle the ritual site.  The crackle of burning fire and the snap of electric lightning were also about me, accompanied by almost musical tones and chimes from random directions.

    I could hear and feel it, but I couldn¡¯t see any of it.  Even though this ritual was going to be a huge turning point in my life, my role in it was to stand where I was told and keep my eyes shut.

    I knew that it was necessary.  I knew that Joan was working with the Enochian runes, and if I didn¡¯t want to risk the angelic script going all eldritch on my mind, I had to avoid looking at them.  I knew all of that, but it didn¡¯t do too much to calm my frustration.

    I knew that the ritual was having potent effects, but I couldn¡¯t see any of them.  I imagined Joan working with a huge dome of glowing runes. I imagined a massive pillar of flame from the bowl that she¡¯d set the fire to.  I imagined an aura of divine favour enveloping the resurrected saint as she gathered more power.  But that was all I could do, imagine it.  if I opened my eyes then I might end up sending my brain into blue screen mode, and Joan had been clear that something like that could seriously derail the ritual.  So, I stood there and followed her instructions.

    I wasn¡¯t quite sure how long I had been standing there, with my eyes closed.  Time seemed to crawl by as I listened to Joan raise her voice into something that was at once a chant, a prayer, and an incantation.  I could hear her switching between languages as she continued, and several times I heard names that I recognized.  Most of the time she spoke in French, but sometimes she switched to other languages I had no idea about.  I heard names I recognized though, names like ¡®Gaea¡¯ and ¡®Zeus¡¯, ¡®Isis¡¯ and ¡®Osiris¡¯.  I think I also heard some Latin in there, and something that might have been German, but for the most part, it was incomprehensible to me.

    That said, I did find a certain pleasure in listening to her.  Joan had a beautiful voice, especially when she put force into it.  Most of the time she was just pleasant to listen to, her voice and slight accent combining to be both appealing and soothing.  But now . . . now that she was raising her voice as though speaking to the entire field, empty though it was; now she truly shone.

    Her words rang across the circle she¡¯d created and across the plains of grass.  Her voice carried across it all as clearly as though she were standing right next to me, and the passion, the force in her words was clear even if I could not fully understand the actual words.  It was easy to understand how this girl could have motivated a country on the brink of defeat to fight, how she could turn the course of a war that had been going on for decades.  It was easy to understand that this really was Joan of Arc.

    As time passed, I could feel the tension in the air growing.  The atmosphere practically thrummed with barely restrained energy, like some great predator coiled and ready to pounce, its muscles bunched and all that energy held and ready to be released.  I desperately wanted to open my eyes and see what was going on, but I knew better.

    So, I stood there, my blood hammering in my ears, eager for Joan to call to me, to tell me that it was time for me to do my part.

    When Joan suddenly broke off in mid-sentence I knew something was wrong.  She¡¯d been reaching a crescendo in her chant, the words building towards something, when she just cut off.  The sudden shift from hearing her speaking so forcefully to near-dead silence was a shocking contrast, discordant, wrong.  Without really thinking about it I felt myself go still as well.

    There was nothing though, just the rustle of the grass as the gentle wind made it wave about.  Even so, I could feel a new tension in the air, more choking than before.  I wanted to open my eyes, but even through my closed lids, I could see the faint glow that came through, a glow that let me know that the script my teacher had carved into the trunks was still empowered.  If I were to open my eyes then I¡¯d be disoriented at best, and useless at worst.

    ¡°Joan?¡±

    The name was spoken as a question, a query as to just what was going on.

    ¡°Attends, something . . . something is wrong,¡± she replied, her voice now hushed. ¡°I think that  . . . I think that we may have been found.¡±

    I was about to ask what she meant.  I was going to ask how she knew that, and who she thought might have found us.  I had a whole bunch of questions to ask, but I never got a chance.  A sudden tearing sound ripping across the ritual site, followed by a rapid series of thundering crashes cut me off.  The land beneath me trembled, and it was all I could do to keep my balance.  I wanted to open my eyes so much it was almost unbearable.

    The next thing I knew I was being tackled to the ground.  For a moment I tried to struggle, got ready to open my eyes regardless of the consequence, and then I recognized the sound of breathing, the scent of armour and flowers.  The ground shuddered again, as another set of three impacts shook it, but a hand grabbed my cheek and turned my face in a specific direction, even though my eyes were still closed.

    ¡°Adam, we are under attack,¡± Joan¡¯s voice was steady but urgent. ¡°Do not open your eyes, not until I tell you!  There are many of them, but I can fight them, however, you must get yourself to safety!  When I call out I will release all the pent-up energy of the ritual.  That will burn out the script¡¯s power, and hopefully blind these attackers.  As soon as you are able, run for the woods behind the farmhouse!  Do not stop, go into them as deeply as you can.  Do not fear, I will be able to find you.  Are you ready?¡±

    Was I?  The situation had shifted so suddenly that I was still trying to catch up.  We were under attack?  By who?  Why now?  What did they want?  Questions flapped about my head, drowning other thoughts out as I tried to recover my scattered wits.

    ¡°Adam!  Do you understand?!¡±

    She asked more forcefully this time, and I could feel a hand tightening on my shoulder.

    ¡°Y-Yeah.  I . . . I can do that.¡±

    My eyes were still screwed shut, but I could almost hear the approving nod that she gave me.

    ¡°Good.  Have faith, Adam, we can succeed!  We shall-¡±

    Whatever she was going to say was cut off as there was another impact, but this one was far closer than before.  I could feel the dust that had been thrown up by it was over me like a sudden wind.  My mind catalogued the sensations and did not like the picture that was forming, for something to have had that kind of impact it had to be either very big, or been going very fast, or, most likely, both.  That was not something that I wanted to contemplate.  There was a rustle from beside me, then a cough, then a hand that had been on my shoulder was pulling me to my feet.

    ¡°Go!  Go, Adam!  I shall deal with these . . . creatures!¡±

    I opened my eyes as I came up, and was immediately blinded, though not by mind-bending angelic script.  Instead, it was by air that was thick with dust, and as soon as my eyelids opened the grains in the air seemed to assault me.  With the world a blur of dust and tears I ran straight into one of the logs that had been laying on the ground.

    I went crashing down with enough force that it felt like my bones rattled.  Doing my best to ignore the pain I tried to right myself, but had to scramble to the side as something large and wet came down next to me.  It took me a couple of seconds, and some more frantic blinking, to clear up my vision enough to make out just what it was, and as soon as I did I really wished that I hadn¡¯t.

    It was a leg.

    To be more precise it was a leg that had been sliced off from someone around the mid-upper thigh.  It wasn¡¯t a human leg, that much was clear from the clawed toes, and the strange pallor to the skin, but even so I felt my stomach trying to rebel at the sight of it.  Reflexively I swallowed and barely managed to keep from throwing up.  Blood was still leaking from it, making it clear this was fresh, and I could feel my head starting to spin as I couldn¡¯t seem to take my eyes off it.  Where had it come from?  Where . . . ?

    My back met something large and solid, the impact of running into it being enough to bring me back to my senses.  Looking over my shoulder I realized that I had been unconsciously scrambling backwards, away from the severed limb, and had backed myself up against the altar at the centre of the ritual circle.

    Shit!  I swore in my mind as I realized that I was ignoring Joan¡¯s instructions.  I should be running, not-

    It was at that point that I finally looked around, trying to get a grip on just what the situation was.

    Joan stood just away from the ritual circle, and she was geared for battle.  She was now clad in the same armour she¡¯d been wearing when I first met her, and she was wielding the sword I¡¯d seen sheathed at her side, but which she had never drawn before.  The sun had almost completely set now, so the main source of light for the area was the large fire dancing on the altar behind me.  The flickering of the flames cast the area into jumping shadows, but it also clearly lit up the scene before me.

    What my teacher and protector was fighting were monsters, there was no other way to describe them.  The creatures that threw themselves at her were sort of human-shaped but had taken a running leap into the uncanny valley.  They were naked, apparently genderless, and hairless.  Their limbs were slightly off, their fingers ending in black talons that took the place of their nails, and the way that they moved and fought seemed almost animalistic.  The way they crouched as they ran, the way they used their hands to aid their movements, all of it was savage and feral.  No, these things might have a vaguely human form, but they definitely weren¡¯t human.

    What they were was ferocious though, that was clear from the way they were throwing themselves at Joan.

    It was like something out of a horror movie, the lone girl being dragged down and slaughtered by a pack of misshapen monsters.  Joan, though, she was no helpless victim, and the ring of dead creatures around her feet was a mute testament to that fact.  These things were moving fast, so fast that I was having a hard time keeping track of them.  They moved like hunting cats, all speed and ferocity and claws, seeming to go from one spot to another without having passed the space in between.

    As I looked over the group of these . . . things, I noticed that they were coming from a strange distortion in the air.  I couldn¡¯t see it, not properly, but the way the air rippled and shimmered like a heat distortion gave me a general idea of what I might be looking at.  Whatever it was the monsters were coming out of it, I could see them tumbling out of the shimmer as though it were a pool of water.  And what was worse was that they were coming out quickly.

    For every second that passed at least two or three would come through, each of them hurtling forth with such force that you¡¯d have thought they had been fired from a cannon.  The grass around the cleared area was already torn up and cratered, and I was guessing that it had been the arrival of the first ones that had caused the tremors I had felt earlier.  Their violent arrival didn¡¯t seem to be slowing the creatures down at all though, as they quickly got to their feet without any signs of injury.

    So many of them.  Already there were enough to semi-surround Joan, and more were coming every moment.  They also moved with eerie coordination, none of them bumped or jostled each other, as though they were a pack of wolves or a school of fish.  Still, it wasn¡¯t doing them much good, not against the reborn saint.

    I¡¯d thought Joan had a minimalist style of fighting, one that emphasized getting the greatest result from the smallest exertion.  However, what I saw before me just showed how far off I¡¯d been.

    Joan was a whirlwind of action, moving so fast I could barely keep track of her.  The monsters coming at her moved faster than anything I¡¯d ever seen before, but that didn¡¯t seem to matter to her.  Every leap was met by the blade of her sword slashing through the air; every swipe from their claws was either blocked by her blade or simply passed through empty space as she avoided it.  Those that tried to hurt her paid a heavy price though, as every attempt was met by retaliation from her flashing sword, and every swing of her blade left her foes either dead or crippled.  They tried coming at her from the side, flanking her or going for pincer attacks, but it seemed pointless, Joan seemed to be constantly aware of all the enemies around her, spinning and bounding to meet every attack, or simply lashing out behind her without even bothering to face the target.

    There were just no words to properly describe it!  She wasn¡¯t a woman anymore!  It was as though the young woman that I¡¯d gotten to know over the last few days was gone and had been replaced by a war machine.  There was no hesitation, no remorse, no mercy, only perfect action that mowed down everything that came at her.  Around her feet, the bodies of her enemies were already piling up, not that it was affecting her footwork as she easily stepped over and on them with perfect balance.

    There was something else though.  Every time her sword hit the monsters it was as though they were illuminated by a sudden internal flash of red and orange light.  For those few without an immediately fatal wound, the flash seemed to be accompanied by intense pain, as they back writhing.  They would quickly recover though, but when they got back up, they seemed diminished.

    There had to be at a dozen or so of the things dead at her feet, but the rest of them just came on undaunted.  They made a strange keening sound as they did so, something that sounded more like an air raid siren than it did something organic vocal cords could produce.  It was as though the world was off-kilter.  What I was seeing shouldn¡¯t have been possible.  Was this going to be my world now?

    You¡¯d have thought I¡¯d been standing there like some gawking spectator.  But the truth was that it all flashed in front of me in the time it took me to scramble to my feet and get my balance!

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Joan was doing a good job of holding the monsters off and drawing their attention, since they seemed to be focused on her.  As soon as I got my feet under me, I took off running, jumping over the logs in my way and heading towards the distant darkness of the woods.

    I don¡¯t know if it was luck, adrenalin, or fear, but whatever the reason I tore across the field so fast that it seemed like a blur.  My heart was hammering in my chest, the beat of it thundering in my ears, but I didn¡¯t really care!  All that mattered was getting to the woods, getting to safety, and getting away from those monsters!

    The attack came out of nowhere.  I didn¡¯t see or hear anything coming towards me.  The first hint that I hadn¡¯t gotten away cleanly was something slamming into my back and taking me off my feet.

    Sharp pain broke out in my shoulders as something dug into my flesh, but that was only background pain as I slammed into the ground.  The impact drove the air from my lungs as I was pushed face down into the grass, my efforts to draw in a breath serving only to choke me as dry dust and crushed plants caught in my throat.

    Spasmodically I coughed, trying to clear my lungs, but even as I tried to lift my head something grasped it from behind and forced it down.  For a moment I struggled, thinking that whoever had me planned to suffocate me in the dirt of the ground, then the grip adjusted and it was just my cheek being pressed into the soil.  It hurt, the grip was unyielding, and I could feel claws piercing my scalp, but at least I could breathe, and at that moment that was all that mattered.

    Then more hands grabbed me, and I was dragged away.  The grip on my face was gone, but whoever was pulling at me wasn¡¯t bothering to turn me over, they had just seized my legs and ankles and were pulling me along.  Stone and twigs dug into me, and I had to take a moment to try and get my bearings on just what was happening.  My arms were free, and I instinctively thrashed about, trying to free myself from whatever was holding me.  One hand came down on something half buried in grass and I grabbed onto it desperately. Whatever it was held strong, and with a jerk that made my arms ache I came to a stop.

    The hands gripping my legs pulled at me, and I could feel those claws digging deeper into me.  It hurt, it hurt like hell, but my blood was practically swimming with adrenaline, and I refused to let go.  The grip on me slackened a bit, and I took the opportunity to try and see just who was holding me.

    There were three of them, three of the weird eyeless monsters that Joan had been fighting.  Two of them had my left leg, one of them had my right, and they seemed to be trying to drag me off towards the portal.  Whatever I¡¯d grabbed seemed to be deeply lodged into the ground, but I could feel it starting to come free.  Gripped by sudden panic I tried to kick my legs free of their grip, all too aware that I was in the grasp of things that were NOT human.  I didn¡¯t know what they wanted with me, but as I looked at those empty holes where its eyes should have been, I was completely certain that I wanted no part of it.

    I thrashed again, and the claws cut in deeper, my legs felt like they were on fire, but fear and anger both kept me from just giving up.

    Then I was free.

    I don¡¯t know how it happened, maybe the blood they had drawn had made my legs too slick to hold on to, whatever it was I had no intention of letting the chance slip me by.  Scrambling to my feet again I lunged away from the monsters, trying to turn back to the woods.

    I didn¡¯t get further than a few steps, and then one of them was in front of me, crouched and ready to spring.  I stumbled back, my burning legs unsteady under me as I spun, looking for another route, only to find another of the pale monsters lunging at me, sending me scrambling back again.

    They came at me, and I fell back, again and again.  I didn¡¯t know how I was managing to avoid them, but all I could do was dodge those black claws as they came flashing out at me.  It wasn¡¯t until I tripped over a log I¡¯d backed into that I realized what was happening.

    I was being herded like a group of wolves driving some fat buck I was being funnelled where they wanted me.  Back to the ritual circle, back to where the others were.

    Things were happening too fast!  There was no time for fear, despair or even anger.  There was only time for mindless reflexive action.

    I didn¡¯t try to run towards the woods again, instead, I fell back faster than the monsters had expected.  I was trying to get to the altar, I was trying to get the burning wood on it between me and the monster.

    Unfortunately, while the spirit might have been eager the flesh was unequal to the task.  I only managed a couple of steps before one of my legs buckled under me.  I was able to stay upright by grabbing the side of the altar, but the brief pause cost me.  Before I could even think of what to do next a form slammed into me from the side, arms wrapping around me in an attempt to restrain me as one of those featureless faces filled my vision.  Then it was gone, and an iron-like grip on my ankle was dragging me along the ground.

    I thrashed like a wild animal, but all I could do was flail at the creature ineffectually, like a child against an abusive adult.  Realising that fighting was pointless I instead dug my heels in and tried to grab at the long grass around me, trying to resist the pull.

    My efforts must have done something, because suddenly it let go of my leg and rounded on me.  The next thing I knew I was rolling across the ground, my head swimming and my ears ringing, the left side of my face throbbing and numb.

    ¡°ADAM!!¡±

    It was only after I heard Joan¡¯s enraged shout that I realized what had happened, the monster had hit me, and pretty brutally too.  The world seemed to swim slightly as I stared up at it, my legs having given out entirely from under me and splayed out on the grass and dirt.  I could see and hear it just fine, but it was as though I couldn¡¯t get it to connect with anything in my head, I just observed it all in a sort of daze.

    ¡°AU NOME DE DIEU!!!¡±

    In my stunned state, the words seemed to rattle around in my head, my ears ringing as they thundered through the air.  For a moment it seemed as though the very earth beneath me vibrated in response to her shout.

    The monster that had hit me also seemed to be shaken, because it paused as it loomed over me, giving me a moment to pull some thoughts back together into something that made sense.  A sense I almost lost as I looked over towards Joan, only to be nearly blinded.

    I¡¯d suspected that when I¡¯d seen her transform in front of my home she¡¯d soft-balled her change.  Something like that, the shift from a mortal to a divine soldier shouldn¡¯t be something so subdued that you can do on a road without anyone noticing.

    The sudden searing light that cascaded off her as the wings and halo reappeared before me proved me right.

    She shone like a star, but she hit like a lightning bolt, I didn¡¯t even see her move.  One moment she had been hovering a couple of feet off the ground, the next she was amidst the enemy, one hand lashing out with her sword, the other laying about her with a weapon crafted out of solid light.  Like something out of a samurai movie, the foes behind her fell apart, all of them bisected by a blade that had moved too fast for me to see.

    She didn¡¯t stop there though; she simply flowed into her next action as smoothly as a dancer on a stage.  The sword of light faded away and she pointed her empty hand at the surviving creatures before her.  There was a brief build-up of energy, and then a lance of golden force shot from her fingers.  The beam of energy moved like lightning in a storm, the movement too fast to track, but just slow enough to be seen.

    Energy attacks are something that I¡¯d grown up seeing in shows and films.  Laser eyes, ray guns, spaceships firing phasers, disruptors, turbo beams, there were a myriad of different names for more or less the same thing.  Seeing them in real life though, that was awesome!

    Her attack cut through the head of one creature, burnt through the neck of another and then struck a third in the chest like a wrecking ball.  Given her hovering a few feet above the grass it was no surprise that her angle of attack was slanted downwards, but to watch it happen . . .  Another burst of energy exploded from her hand, then another, and another, and with each burst of light more of the featureless creatures were shot down like toys before an angry child.  In a handful of seconds the numbers of the monsters had been cut down from dozens to less than ten.  The almost casual way that she did it was jawdropping.

    Not that I was able to watch for all that long.  A sudden pressure about my neck and shoulders reminded me harshly that I was far from out of the woods.

    The creature that had hit me had understood what Joan had done as clearly as I had, though it had not been as stunned by her display of power.  Instead it had moved to protect itself by seizing a hostage, namely me.  One arm went around my throat while its other one came around my chest, trying to pin both my arms.  My right arm was caught, but my left managed to rise before it could get a good grip, and remained free.  Not that it did me much good since the grip that the monster had on me left me almost helpless; with it behind me I couldn¡¯t even reach it properly to struggle.  All I could do was flail at it with my left hand, and those attempts were even more pitiful than the earlier blows that it had ignored.

    Something hit the back of my head, the blow not as harsh as the earlier one, but still more than strong enough to scatter my thoughts and take the fight out of me.  Blearily I looked up, my eyes drifting over to my protector as she lit up the night with the light that shone forth from her.

    ¡°LET HIM GO!¡±

    Joan¡¯s words rang across the clearing like a whip being cracked, the force of it enough to get my swimming thoughts to focus on her, even if the rest of the world was still a blurred mess.  However, it seemed to have no effect upon the creature holding me, because all it did was swing me around so that I was directly between it and my protector.  Joan was hovering slightly off the ground, higher than she had been before, one hand extended towards us, energy gathered upon the outstretched fingertips and ready to be unleashed.  In response the monster had brought its claws to my neck, the tips pricking into my skin hard enough to cause droplets of blood to spill forth and begin to run down my neck.  Normally I wouldn¡¯t have been able to feel it, but even in my still dazed state I had so much adrenaline flooding my system that I could feel the tiny rivulets as they trickled down my skin.  The threat was clear, even if she could use that insane speed or those lasers to hit the monster then the very act of it falling over would be enough to let out my blood like a slit water bag.

    I could see the frustration on Joan¡¯s face, but she made no move.  She just continued to hover there, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.  Suddenly I was moving, the arms around my neck and chest pushing me around as the creature tried to get me to move.  My limbs were sluggish, dragging more than moving, but the creature was strong enough that it wasn¡¯t hindered in any real way.  It was just dragging me around the altar with almost casual ease, trying to keep both it and me between itself and Joan.

    My left arm swung, the limb slack, and the hand ran over something long and hard.  Instinctively my fingers closed around it.  I felt its sharp edges press against my skin, yet for some reason my flesh didn¡¯t cut.  I couldn¡¯t really think of anything to do with it yet.  Still, some part of me knew that just having a weapon of any sort could be important, so I kept my grip on it.

    The standoff continued as Joan maintained her focus upon the monster that held me.  One of the other creatures tried to attack her from behind, no doubt hoping for her to be distracted, but she didn¡¯t even bother to look at it as she cut it down.  She didn¡¯t even bother to draw her sword, one of her wings simply swatted out at it as though brushing away a fly and the top half of its torso simply vanished in a spray of blood and pulverized organs.  Before that moment Joan had been mowing them down with almost contemptuous ease, now they weren¡¯t even enemies, they were simply pests.

    But one pest had me, and that was all that was holding her back, which was why things seemed to have degenerated into a Mexican standoff.

    Then something changed.

    I saw it arrive, but even though I understood what I saw, the connection with it being a threat to my protector took precious seconds to form.  First it was just another heat shimmer in the air.  Then something stepped through it, something huge.  The figure that had appeared towered at least two feet over the hovering Joan.

    Its arrival was silent, one moment there was empty space, the next it was taken up by the huge bulk of the newly arrived creature.  There was a sense of unreality to it, a clash between the soundless way it arrived and the sheer imposing mass of its actual presence.  It was only when the thing moved, reaching out towards the unawares Joan that my thoughts came into focus, and I opened my mouth to yell a warning.

    Too late.

    The cracking of bones echoed audibly across the field as those huge hands clamped down on the wing they were holding.  For a moment there was only silence.

    Then Joan screamed!

    Light lanced out from her hand again, but it just skittered off the massive form that loomed over her.  Her sword came about in a swift and vicious chop, but even though there was a shower of sparks as it made contact, the distinctive sound of metal on metal made it clear that she had cut no flesh.  With a wordless shout she abandoned both sword and energy, and instead drove her fist into the chest of the hulking figure, a sound like a struck bell echoing through the field as she did so.

    That blow had struck with such force that I had actually felt it from where I slumped.  I swear there was actually a sort of shockwave that rippled out from the point of impact.  I could only guess at the sort of power that must have been involved to manage something like that.

    And all it had done was make the huge figure take one step back, nothing more.

    The next moment it was advancing again, those huge hands reaching out to the winged form of the resurrected saint.  The clear intention to break her apart present in its every motion.  This time though, Joan was ready.  Both her hands came up in front of her pointing towards the oncoming hulk, her fingers poised as though holding a large invisible globe before her.  Light gathered there, they speared out, searing the air as it shot towards the huge figure that had attacked her.

    This was nothing like the previous attacks that she¡¯d used.  Before it had been short flashes of light, the beams lasting for a second at most, then fading away.  It had been devastating to her foes, blasting through them or carving them up with the sort of casual ease that denoted an absolute supremacy.

    This attack made all previous attacks seem as pale as the squeaking of a kitten compared to a lion¡¯s roar.

    It was no simple flash that emanated from her hands.  No brief blast of energy or brief shot of brilliance.  Instead this was a beam as thick as one of my legs, and it just kept on going.  It was a continuous stream of force that slammed into the figure of metal and stone.  Just as with her earlier blow the force of her new attack was clear, even to my still dazed mind.  I could feel the heat of the light, even from as far away as I was, and it was as though I¡¯d just opened to door to a furnace.  It was already a warm summer evening, but now it felt as though if I weren¡¯t careful I might get burns.

    And this was from me standing a good distance away.  I couldn¡¯t image how it must have been to be the object of that attack, to have all of that power levelled against you.

    And yet the figure would not fall.

    Its arms came up to shield its face and chest, but that was the only reaction that it gave.  Instead it just braced itself and endured the torrent of heat and light in much the same way that a man might endure water from a hose.  The ground about it burnt and broke, grass catching fire briefly, then being reduced to ash, the soil beneath it scoured away by the force of the onslaught. None of that seemed to matter to the huge figure as it endured without sign of weakness or pain.

    The sight was like something out of myth, like Heracles holding up the sky, or Sampson bringing down the temple.  It was one thing to see a video of some monster or demigod performing such a feat, it was quite another to see that force right before me.

    Then I was suddenly being dragged back again, my arms trapped at my side and a pallid hand covering my eyes.

    I think it was the loss of my sight, more than anything else, which finally let me put my thoughts back together.  I¡¯d been seeing so much, so many things that blew my mind.  Monsters, sword fights, a hulking monster and a transformation into an angel, it had all been just too much.

    Now I had less of a sensory assault.  That, and a fresh surge of adrenaline that rushed through my veins, firmed up something within me.

    The creature was stronger than me, but its frame was wiry rather than heavy.  I was taller by a good few inches, and the training I¡¯d been forced through the last few days, coupled with the healing and the masses of food I¡¯d enjoyed, had managed to build up some of the muscle I¡¯d been lacking for most of my life.  When I threw myself to the side as hard as I could the action took the monster off its feet and slammed it against the side of the altar.  It didn¡¯t matter that the creature was far stronger than me, I had leverage on my side and was strong enough to move its weight, physics was on my side this time.

    The impact against the altar would have been enough to break bones in a normal person, but the pallid creature didn¡¯t even let out a grunt of pain.  Instead it maintained its grip about my chest and face and started to squeeze.

    I didn¡¯t know what its plans were, perhaps it thought to choke me out somehow, thinking that an unconscious hostage would be less trouble than one that kept on struggling.  Maybe it had decided I was too much trouble and had decided to kill me and be done with it.  What I did know was that it was stopping me from breathing, and I really didn¡¯t like that.  I also knew that I was holding something soft but with a rod-like core running through the middle in my one free hand.  The logical conclusion came together with mathematical smoothness.

    Namely; Add object A to Aggressor B to gain Freedom C.

    It was only when I was already in motion that I realized object A was the pointed end of a feather from one of the most powerful angels in heaven.  Still, aggressor B was a demonic monster, given the way the others hadn¡¯t liked Joan¡¯s sword.  Had I had more time to think then I might have guessed that a clash of such opposing forces  wasn¡¯t something to do carelessly.

    The quill of the feather went into the side of the creature¡¯s head with all the resistance of a knife sinking into jelly.  I couldn¡¯t see it, of course, but I felt it, and I also felt a certain savage glee in knowing that I had hurt this monstrous creature.

    Then the world exploded into fire and force, but strangely no sound.

    After that . . . the world went away for a bit.

 Chapter 11: Into the Fire: Part Two

    Chapter 11: Into the Fire: Part Two

    Joan cursed in French as she tried to force more power into the stream of burning light she was directing at the golem.  She knew the beam held enough power in it to melt a passage through the thickest castle wall with ease.  Even the great war machines of modern man would have been helpless before it.  And yet she could not subdue the huge figure that stood before her.

    This was not good, very far from it in fact.  The grace of the heavens allowed her to assume the form and power of an angel, however she was still a mortal soul.  As such she could only sustain the transformation for a limited amount of time, and the way she was spending her power was cutting down that time fast.  Before long she would exhaust the force that allowed her to take on this form, then she would revert to her normal form completely spent of energy.

    She had to end this, and do so as fast as she could.  Behind her Adam was still being held by one of these demon host creatures, and every second she allowed that to continue was a failure upon her part.

    The problem was that her foe was a golem, not some demonic entity.  Against demons she was a dangerous foe. Her weapon was blessed by the heavens to deal them increased damage, her skills were specifically geared to be able to counter their strengths, her armour inscribed to be resistant to their foul magics.  Even against mortal or divine foes she would have at least been on more equal footing, neither advantaged nor disadvantaged beyond the disparities in physical abilities.  Against a golem though, that was where the rules changed.

    This golem was clearly a product of Hebrew enchantment, and as such was derived from adapted angelic spells.  Because of this, the construct before her possessed an innate resistance to the type of power she was directing against it.  The heat, light and force of her attack remained, but the holy aspect, the essence of the heavens that opposed the damnation of hell, had no effect upon it.

    No!  She mustn¡¯t allow herself to get distracted!  She had to remember that this golem wasn¡¯t an enemy she had to overcome; rather it was an obstacle to navigate.  Her priority had to be Adam, not getting drawn into a fight that she might not be able to win.

    As soon as the realization hit her she immediately changed her tactics.  The torrent of energy that had been pushing against the massive figure suddenly cut off.  Braced as it had been, pushing back against the pressure of her attack, the sudden loss of opposition took the construct by surprise, and it lurched forwards, its balance momentarily lost.  Joan ruthlessly exploited the opening, lashing out with the power of light once more.  This time it wasn¡¯t as a beam of searing light though, this time it was with the head of a giant war hammer forged of her power.

    Shaping her light into constructs was a difficult task for her.  It was a skill that was shared by many mythical beings that could wield the power of an element or force.  The greater one¡¯s skill in such an area then the more complex and potent those constructs could be.  Even minor demons could generally create swords or whips of flames, while the likes of Poseidon could create living beings composed of seawater if he so chose.  All angels had some skill with such shaping, most of them using light or air, save for those who possessed their own elemental alignment.

    As a mortal Joan was more limited.  She could only form a single sword and shield at a time, despite her best efforts.  In her angelic form this changed, and she could create larger and stronger weapons, however she was still far less sophisticated than a true angel would have been.  She simply lacked the advanced spiritual complexity needed to properly harness the power of light she could generate.  There was no shame in it; it was simply a natural limit, and it did not make her ineffective.

    The hammer head that impacted the golem was easily the size of a small truck.  Though made of hardened light it still gained weight due to the magic that allowed it to become solid, and this was swung with the full force Joan could bring to bear with the weapon.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    The golem was a massive and powerful construct.  That being true, it was still subject to physics.  And when the hard light, the equivalent of more than fifty tonnes of weight travelling at just over a hundred miles per hour, struck an object, there was a notable effect.  Especially if said object was off balance when the impact occurs.

    With a sound like a pair of mountains colliding the massive humanoid was actually lifted off the ground and sent sailing back into the field behind it.  The impact when it hit the ground could be seen with the naked eyes, and the force of it cratered the soil.  It would be on its feet soon, but that brief delay as it fought to free itself and find its footing again was all that she needed.

    Spinning in place she released more rays of light from her hands, searing beams that carved through the remaining demon hosts as though they were nothing but air and smoke.  In short order all those around her were gone, leaving only the ones standing by the portal, and the one that had Adam.  Spinning in place she turned to face the last spot she¡¯d seen the monster holding her charge, over by the altar.  It hadn¡¯t been long, the golem only able to distract her for less than a minute.  She had also been keeping a mental eye upon Adam¡¯s distinctive lifeforce, a signal she could easily recognize and track in her angelic form.  Her eyes focused upon the spot where his energy rested . . . and blinked at what she saw.

    The demon host creature was down, one of the feathers of Bath Kol driven into its skull so deeply that there was no doubt as to the state of the monster¡¯s life.  As if that had not been enough everything below its waist was gone, burnt away as though it had been forced into a blast furnace.  The resurrected soul felt her eyes widen as she took in the scene before her.  The altar that had been the centrepiece of the ritual was gone, nothing left in its spot save for a gaping crater of still red-hot fused soil and stone.

    How?  How had this happened?  She¡¯d heard no explosion, she¡¯d felt no release of power.  Frantically her eyes darted around, trying to find the spot where her mystic senses still felt the lifeforce of her charge.  For a moment she felt an icy chill grip her heart as she couldn¡¯t spot him.  Her divine power told that he was in a specific spot, yet she could not see him there.  Had she been tricked?  Had her enemies deceived her senses and abducted him while she thought he was still nearby enough for her to save him?

    Then she saw a familiar form and realized that what she had dismissed as the burnt remains of one of the tree trunks was in fact the prone form of her charge.

    Relief ran through her, only be replaced by despair a second later.  His body . . . it seemed to be a charred and blackened ruin.  Had he been caught in whatever force detonated the altar?  Had she failed in her oath to her God to protect him?  Had she failed her oath to him as well?  No, the lifeforce she felt was still strong, very much so.  In fact . . . her eyes narrowed as she stared at the prone form.  Yes, his lifeforce actually felt stronger than it had earlier today when he had been at full health.

    This made no sense; she could see the way that his skin was burnt red and raw where it wasn¡¯t already black.  He should be dying, not brimming with energy.  What was-

    Her thoughts dissolved into a wail of pain as massive fingers of metal seized hold of her unbroken wing, their vast strength crushing down, snapping bones, mangling flesh.  A scream rose up in her throat, only to be snatched away as the golem spun in place, using the broken wing as a grip to send her hurtling through the air and into the ground.  The breath was driven from Joan¡¯s body, and for a moment the sheer force of the impact caused her vision to swim.  All that went through her mind was a dull question, scrambled to the point where it was only barely coherent.  How had the golem recovered so quickly?  She¡¯d been sure that she would have longer before he was back in the fight, but it had only been a few instants. How . . .

    ¡°Kill him!  Kill him now!¡±

    The voice called across the field, but came from nobody she could see.  For a moment she wondered if her mind was more scattered than she¡¯d thought, then she realized that the voice came from the same shimmer in the air that the monsters had emerged from.  Was this the master behind this attack?  Other questions crowded into her head, but she dismissed them all as one fact eclipsed all others.

    Adam was going to die if she didn¡¯t do something!

    She tried to move, but found her body slow to respond, everything as weak as though she were a child.  Gritting her teeth she bit back a particularly vile curse and tried to force herself on.  It was the wings, that was the problem, in her angelic form her wings were both her strength and her weakness.  For angels their wings were more than mere decoration, they were one of the physical repositories where their spiritual structures connected to their physical ones.  With her wings broken as they were, the flow of her internal energies were warped and uneven, leaving her weak and disoriented.  Her wings would heal quickly, returning to full functionality in only a matter of minutes.

    But those were minutes she didn¡¯t have!

 Chapter 12: Aftermath: Part One

    Chapter 12: Aftermath

    ¡°What are you doing?!  We were told to retrieve the demigod alive?¡±

    The scarred man asked the question as he sized the arm of the Acolyte and shook them.  The robe-wearing magic user had their gloved left hand shoved into the portal, but their right hand hung at their side gripping some sort of talisman so tightly that its metal edges had cut through the material of the glove and into their skin.  Drops of blood were trickling over the artefact, then falling to the stone floor of the chamber.  His shaking made the arm swing, and an arc of droplets painted a line across the floor, but the Acolyte did not shift from their place.

    ¡°We were too late; the only option is to kill him!¡±

    Their voice sounded strained, but not in pain.  The scarred man could see how his ally was pushing more magic through the portal, using it to support the golem, granting it strength and speed that it would have otherwise lacked.  Despite himself, he was impressed.  The massive construct was millennia old and created using magics that were long lost to the modern day.  For his companion to be able to tune their mystic energies so that they could support the ancient creation was nothing short of genius.

    ¡°Our patron wants him alive!  You can¡¯t just kill him!¡±

    The scarred man did not want to think about how their patron, their master in all but name, would react to them failing in such a way.  This demigod represented an incredible opportunity.  If it was just squandered . . .

    ¡°It¡¯s already too late, the demigod has begun his Awakening, I can feel the energies beginning to converge upon him!¡±

    No!  He felt his stomach clench as their plans and expectations turned to ash before him.

    Their orders had been to track the unawakened child of divinity and secure him before his powers could be awakened.  If it was already too late for that then his companion¡¯s actions made perfect sense.  They had failed in their primary mission, so the best they could hope to achieve was to kill the demigod before he came into his full power and take his body back for their patron.  It would be considerably less valuable than a vulnerable demigod that could be moulded into a faithful servant, but the corpse could yield several valuable properties that could be exploited.

    Hopefully, that would be enough to buy their patron¡¯s restraint, given that they had failed in their primary mission.

    Through the portal, he could see the massive form of the golem marching towards the burnt body of the demigod.  Despite its reflexes being fast for its bulk, its pace was slow, the result of the ground giving way beneath its enormous weight.  As it closed upon their target the Acolyte barked another word, this time one not in any human tongue.  In response, the few remaining demon host homunculi came scrambling back through the portal.  One of them tried to slash at the fallen agent of heaven with its claws as it passed her, but her sword lashed out and sliced it in two before it was able to draw close.  Downed though she might be she was still dangerous.  He could see her struggling to her feet, but her legs were unsteady, and her wings dragged her down.

    His eyes flicked from her to the golem, to the unconscious demigod, and then back to the golem.  Yes, despite her valiant efforts it would make no difference.  No matter how she pushed she wouldn¡¯t be able to recover in time to be able to muster the force needed to save her charge.  It wasn¡¯t a matter of willpower or effort; it was a simple fact of structural capability.  With her wings so damaged she couldn¡¯t manipulate the elemental forces she controlled strongly enough to affect the golem in any useful way.  It was like trying to quench a fire using a bucket without a bottom.

    The huge construct was almost upon the burnt form when the scarred man saw it.  He might not possess the raw power that his ally might have, but he had honed his ability to sense supernatural energies to heights that even their patron had acknowledged.  As a result, he was able to sense the building of power just instants before it detonated. He had no idea how the divine energies within the prone figure could have gone from non-existent to critical mass so quickly, but somehow it had happened.

    ¡°GET DOWN!¡±

    Even as he spoke the words his body slammed into the Acolyte in a tackle that took them off their feet and carried the pair of them a good distance before they crashed into the stone floor of the chamber.  The impact took his ally by surprise and knocked the breath from their lungs, but they recovered fast enough to push against him.

    ¡°WHA-?¡±

    Their shouted question was cut off as a massive roar sounded from the other side of the portal.  It wasn¡¯t loud in the way a normal explosion would be, rather it sounded as though someone had suddenly lit an enormous bonfire, and the burning wood was now roaring as its flames reached up to the sky.  Of course, this was of less concern to them than the searing light that had just flashed across the area near the portal, the area where they had been standing.

    One of the homunculi had been so close to the blast that there was nothing left of it other than a black smear upon the floor.  The stone itself was glowing a faint red, and the scarred man could easily feel the sheer heat that now radiated from it.

    ¡°No!  No no no no no . . .¡±

    His ally muttered the word again and again as they waved their hand at the portal, causing it to swivel in place so that the two of them could see through it once more.  For an instant the scarred man flinched, wondering if the acolyte had suddenly taken leave of their senses!  The action was essentially turning the end of a gun to face them.  Then he relaxed as he could sense no more building power from beyond the mouth of the gateway.  Whatever had happened, it was over, so it would at least be safe to look.

    The scene through the portal was one of total devastation.  The entire area beyond the portal was a scorched wasteland; no hint of plant life was left aside from a few still burning remains. Even the very shape of the ground had been changed, a shallow depression having been blasted into the field.  The site looked as if a bomb had gone off there, but that wasn¡¯t what the acolyte was referring to.  The cause of his ally¡¯s obvious anguish was the golem, or rather what was left of it.

    The massive figure still stood, which was a testament to the resources, skill and effort put into its original construction, but there was no way that it could still be considered functional.  Most of the front to its head and chest, along with its hands and the majority of its forearms, were just gone, melted away leaving only molten stumps where they had been.

    ¡°It¡¯s gone, the words are gone, it¡¯s dead . . .¡±

    In truth, the scarred man didn¡¯t care, but if a possibility of hope would snap the robed figure out of their anger then he could at least make the effort.

    ¡°Perhaps it can be repaired?¡±

    ¡°No, the words that gave it life have been destroyed!  There¡¯s no way for me to recreate them, I haven¡¯t the skill or the knowledge to even attempt it!

    Well, what could he say to that?  Not only was this a huge financial loss, it was also a loss of a powerful asset upon its first deployment.  Looking back through the portal something else caught his eye, caught it and then held it fast.  Before the remains of the golem, there was a figure lying on the ashen ground.  He couldn¡¯t see much in the way of details, not with them as covered in soot and ash as they were, but it was clear that skin that had been burnt and blackened was now healthy.  Damn it!

    ¡°No!  This . . . I won¡¯t accept this!  They do not get to simply walk away!¡±

    The scarred mage was taken aback by the sheer venom in the acolyte¡¯s words.  There was something there that went beyond simple outrage.  There was genuine hatred there.  Before could even think of anything to say, the robed figure brought up both their hands, lines of bloodred energy following the movements of each finger.  In the space of a couple of seconds, those gloved fingers danced and twisted, leaving trails of magical power behind them.  The scarred mage could only watch in awe as the lines formed the outline of a basic mandala.  In the next instant, more power flowed into the lines, snapping them into solidity, magic circles formed from raw magic ready and waiting to be used.  Then the acolyte¡¯s hands clenched, magic surged and the mandalas burst, power rippling out of them and flowing through the portal.

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    ¡°What did you just-¡±

    The mage¡¯s question was cut off as another figure moved into the view of the portal.  Blonde hair and gleaming armour made it easy to see this was the agent of the heavens, still injured but noticeably better than before.  Whatever had devastated the landscape hadn¡¯t harmed her, and she was making her way past the broken form of the golem and towards the sprawled figure.

    ¡°Close it!¡±

    There wasn¡¯t any time for questions, he just snapped the demand with all the urgency he could.  At his words the robed figure stiffened, more power gathering around them, but before they could speak he shook his head.

    ¡°Close it!  The demigod has come into their power, and we do not have the forces to try to kill them.  The maiden is healing and soon she¡¯ll be able to sense the portal if we leave it there.  Close it, this has been our failure, and that cannot be changed.¡±

    There was clear frustration in the Acolyte¡¯s posture, but in the end, their hooded head nodded and a gloved arm gestured.  The portal shrank and closed, the magic that had powered it fading away into nothing.  For a moment all voices were silent in the chamber, the only sound coming from the old oil lamps that provided illumination.

    ¡°What did you do?¡±

    He asked the question carefully, not wanting to start a fight.  That earlier flash of hatred . . . it had been unexpected, and the last thing he wanted was to have it directed at himself.

    ¡°A last stab at them,¡± Now the acolyte sounded almost dismissive. ¡°I infused my will into a spell and sent it through the portal to meld with the ambient infernal energy left over from the destruction of my creations.  I do not know how effective it will be, but I sent it to attack the agent and the demigod.¡±

    The words left him stunned, all he could do was stare at the robed figure, trying to process what had been said.  Then the question burst out of him, unstoppable as the eruption of a volcano.

    ¡°You imposed your will on hell-born energies?!¡±

    That should have been impossible, the powers of hell, even the simple ambient energy of that plane of existence, were of a higher order than the raw mana of the mortal plane.  It required a certain level of power to be able to command it, a level of power he was certain the robed figure before him did not possess.

    ¡°Not directly, I am far from that tier of power.¡± There was a pause as the acolyte seemed to assess him before they continued. ¡°The hellish energies have been sitting in my creations for weeks though.  Creations born of my power and steeped in my magic.  Those energies have grown . . . used to my signature, enough so that I can impart very basic commands upon them, commands that shall quickly fade.  Or at least, that is what I believe.¡±

    The scarred mage stared at them, trying to fully grasp their words.

    ¡°You . . . you don¡¯t know?  You don¡¯t know what will happen, but you did it anyway?¡±

    That seemed beyond reckless.  The powers of hell were not to be tampered with carelessly, it was a realm soaked in so much malevolence, suffering and despair that the very nature of it¡¯s energies was inimical to other beings.  Anything from that place, be it denizens, energies or just simple materials, was saturated with a will to hurt, corrupt and destroy.

    ¡°What does it matter?  Those energies are hundreds of miles away and in the presence of an agent of Heaven.  If they attack, then they might injure the demigod before they are neutralized by the agent.  Should they escape then they are far away, unlikely to trouble me.  They are unimportant.  What matters is the result of our mission.¡±

    The mage felt a pit form in his stomach as the grim knowledge he¡¯d been trying to distract himself from settled into place.

    ¡°We failed.¡±

    The two words echoed like tombstones falling into place, the scarred man making no effort to lighten their impact.

    ¡°Not completely.¡±

    At a gesture from the robed figure one of the homunculi stepped forward and placed a strip of torn cloth into their gloved hand.

    ¡°This is from the demigod.  We may not have been able to secure him, but gaining his blood is a victory in itself.  With this, there are a myriad of options available to a skilled magic user, everything from curses to simple monitoring.¡±

    That was true; he had to admit, however . . .

    ¡°Will it be enough?¡±  Seeing the robed figure turn to face him once more he continued. ¡°We were sent to capture a demigod, one that he could bind to his service.  Do you think that he will be willing to just accept a bloodstained rag in place of the original prize?¡±

    The acolyte slowly nodded in agreement.  No, it was unlikely that their patron would be willing to accept such a failure.  Worse, he was unlikely to forgive that failure.  The god that had accepted them into his service was generous to his servants, but he was intolerant of anything less than perfect service.  The acolyte had already lost the trail of the agent on heaven once, and that was all the failure that would be accepted.  This intolerance was hardly a surprise when you took the origins of the deity they served into account.  In his mythology mankind had been created to serve the gods, to perform the labour the gods wished to avoid so that the divinities would be free to live a life of leisure.   To him, mortals were tools, and tools that failed in the task they were assigned to needed . . . replacement.

    ¡°We need more.¡± The scarred man stated, voicing the thought going through both their minds. ¡°The blood is a good start, but if we want to buy our skins then we need more.¡±

    ¡°What?  What could we get?  What does he want?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll have to be something powerful, something that can make up for the loss of a demigod servant.¡±

    That was enough to give them pause.  Demigods were powerful, even the weakest of the Legacies was able to instinctively do things that would take even a gifted mage years to learn under normal circumstances.  This demigod had been no mere Legacy though, he was a direct child.  All the signs that they and their patron had been able to divine had pointed towards him being one of the most gifted of the children of the gods that existed at this time.  Acquiring anything on a par with him was . . . unlikely, to say the least.

    ¡°Is there no chance that we can still scoop him up?¡± The scarred agent asked. ¡°He might have awoken, but he¡¯s still new enough.  If we can get him away from the Maiden then perhaps he could still be turned to our patron¡¯s side?¡±

    There was another pause as they both considered his words and then the Acolyte shook their head.

    ¡°No, under other circumstances I might consider trying it, but as things stand we lack the resources to achieve it.  My forces are broken, and my most powerful piece has been lost.  The Maiden may be weakened, but she will recover quickly, faster than I can.  Even with the homunculi it would be unlikely we could overwhelm her, the golem was the queen piece that made this attack feasible.¡±

    He frowned at that, his left hand tapping against his hip in a small nervous tick.

    ¡°Then we need something else.  Might any of your contacts be able to find something of suitable value?¡±

    The hood nodded slowly.

    ¡°The golem was the greatest piece that they have ever been able to acquire for me, but if I provide enough incentive then they may be able to step up their operations, find something else.  What of you?  Do you have any connections that could aid us in this?¡±

    He paused for a moment, thinking over the contacts that he¡¯d been able to make over the months since the sun turned black and those once legends had returned.  There had been dealers, people who had seen the shifting of the tides and had figured out ways to profit from it.  They sold artefacts off on the black market in ways similar to the people his host had dealings with but were more vicious and less discerning.  They were tomb robbers, pirates, slave traders and the like.  There were also others, those that were less interested in the monetary aspect and were more in it for the power and favour trading.  A witch doctor coming into their power, an ambitious demigod in South America, a cult leader with a pair of Legacies serving him, even . . .

    . . . Ah, yes.  Her.

    that could work, but it wouldn¡¯t be easy, or cheap, and he wasn¡¯t just talking about money.  She was the sort to trade in blood and pieces of souls, favours that you couldn¡¯t get out of no matter how much you might want to.  Even so, there was no denying that she gave you what you paid for.

    ¡°I . . . might know someone, but she isn¡¯t someone to deal with lightly.¡±

    ¡°Who is she?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s one of the myths, not a deity, but one of the mortals that ascended far enough into legend that she escaped mortality.  Still, even gods are careful around her, so I think she might be able to help us.  The problem is what she¡¯ll ask us for in return.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s money then I can cover it, but I doubt it¡¯ll be that easy.¡±

    The scarred man shook his head.

    ¡°No, we will need to be careful of what we ask for.  She can provide a great deal, certainly something that he will find satisfactory, but she will ask for a price equal to what we want, and she will want something that will be in her best interests, not ours.¡±

    As they spoke the two of them had left the bare stone chamber and climbed the stairs into the castle proper.

    ¡°Just who is this ¡®she¡¯ that we are talking about?  Is she truly in a position to help us in this matter?¡±

    He replied with three words, three words that made up the name of the immortal that had made him an offer in those chaotic days after the Black Sun.  Back then he had decided to follow his current patron rather than become indebted to her, but she had left the offer open.  Now that he thought about it, might she have known that a day would come when he would seek her out?

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    On hearing that name his ally let out a single small exclamation, then sat down rather abruptly on the chair that had been right next to them.  He felt a certain satisfaction at the reaction, finding it pleasant to see his normally inexpressive host finally show shock so clearly.  Most of the time their heavy robes and obscuring spells made their body language as masked as their facial expressions.  This though, this was too big for concealment, and it was the first time he¡¯d ever seen the acolyte so taken aback.

    Well, he supposed he could understand it, after all the name he had just dropped was not one that was easily dismissed.  In many ways, the one he spoke of was more successful than many gods had been in the art of spreading chaos and ruin, and one didn¡¯t enter into contact with such people lightly, not if one wanted to see the next sunrise.

    Though at this point, did they really have much of a choice?

 Chapter 12: Aftermath: Part Two

    Chapter 12: Aftermath: Part Two

    Joan . . . wasn¡¯t sure what had happened.  She¡¯d been struggling to force a bone in her wing back into place when the explosion of power had erupted from where Adam had been laying, so she¡¯d missed it.  By the time she had regained her senses whatever had happened was over.

    She¡¯d been able to feel herself healing thanks to the angelic vitality of her transformed state.  Still, she had been disoriented, aware of what was going on around her, but unable to fit it together in her mind.  She had taken a few stumbling steps in the general direction of Adam, but then froze stock still, her hand tightening around her sword as she readied herself for renewed battle.

    All around her, she could feel a sudden surge of demonic energy.  It was unfocused, mindless, but she could still feel the revolting mixture of suffering and malice, all bound together by an unrelenting drive that could only be called evil.  For a moment it flared up around her, clouds of malevolent miasma that seemed to taint the very world.

    She did not hesitate.  She might have still been getting her bearings, but she was not going to sit back as a threat showed itself.  Her sword slashed out, divine light playing along its edge as she added her magic to the power of the blow.  The light extended the range of the blow, letting her cut huge arcs into the fog of hellish energies around her, and in the space of a few seconds, the clouds of hateful magic began to thin.  For a moment the French saint thought that her task would be easy, that this was merely a remnant of the main battle, nothing more.

    She should have known better.

    Like a cobra waking from a daze, the hellish energies seemed to coil in on themselves, condensing, thickening into something that was on the verge of gaining substance.  The condensed magic shot out, and Joan raised her weapon, ready to defend herself.  It was a feint though, the magic changing direction with shocking speed, spearing towards . . . Adam!

    Cursing her distraction, Joan did the only thing she could.  Power gathered in her hands for a split instant then was released, a spear of light shooting out to strike the malicious energy construct before it could reach her charge.  There was an instant of contact, and then another explosion rocked the ritual site, knocking the resurrected saint off her feet once more.

    This time she was quicker to rise, and she was immediately looking for threats, but this time there was nothing to see.

    The hellish energies were gone, the attackers were gone, the portal was gone, even the golem had been reduced to a melted ruin.  Nothing stood against her now.  There was an audible crack as her left wing straightened from its slumping pose, the main joint correcting itself.  The sensation wasn¡¯t one of pain, not like the breaking had been, but the shock of it was still enough to nearly drive her to her knees.  No, no she couldn¡¯t let this stop her!  Refusing to collapse once more she forced one foot to move, then the other, then again.

    Staggering along she came up beside the melted and blasted remains of the golem that had temporarily crippled her.  She hadn¡¯t had time to look at it properly before, but now she could not help but take in its ruined state.  She could see the damage done surpassed anything she¡¯d been able to inflict.  She paused for a moment, oddly fascinated by the ruined remnants of a being that had more than matched her at the height of the power granted to her by His will.  She could hear the tiny clicks and pops as superheated stone and metal began to cool.  It was strange, this thing had been the first being to cause her injury since she had returned to the mortal plane, indeed the agony it had inflicted upon her had been a pain she¡¯d never felt even in her previous life.

    Tearing her eyes away from her former foe the resurrected saint stared at the recumbent form of her charge.

    Under any other circumstances, she would have thought him dead, nothing more than a burnt corpse.  However, she could feel the life radiating from him, so bright, so strong that there was no doubt that he was alive and well.  But even though the mystic senses that had been imparted upon her assured her of this her own eyes disagreed.  Adam was . . . there were no words for it.  His hair was gone, his skin was nothing but a patchwork of red and black, his clothes were either reduced to ash or melted into his body.  More than that though, he looked swollen, bloated in a way that was shocking to see.  In fact . . .

    Joan reached out to touch her charge and was surprised when it felt as though she¡¯d laid her hand upon wood rather than flesh.  What?  What was this?

    Her fingernail tapped upon Adam¡¯s shoulder, but she might as well have been poking at a tree trunk.  Her charge was petrified?  How had that happened?  Yes, the ritual had been interrupted, and the flows of energies had gone almost catastrophically wrong.  Still, she couldn¡¯t think of anything that could have led to this kind of result.  Perhaps he had somehow absorbed too much of the elemental energies of the earth?  Had those hellish energies been involved?  She reached out with her divinely enhanced senses, trying to see if she detected them, but nothing leapt out at her.  Instead, all she could sense were pure elemental forces, leading her back to her earlier theory.

    It was a possibility, she had heard of human practitioners in ancient days transfiguring themselves into trees or plant spirits.  Could that be the case here, had Adam somehow done this to himself in a bid to survive?

    She frowned as her senses felt another surge in the life force of the form before her.  This didn¡¯t make any sense, what-

    Her thoughts paused as she felt the transformation fade.  She felt the loss of power as her wings and halo dissolved into sparks of ambient mana, which in turn dissolved into the natural mana field of the planet.  She felt the strength leave her limbs as she was reduced from the physical might of a celestial warrior to the lesser level of a superhuman.  Still, the senses that allowed her to monitor Adam remained, even though they grew duller.

    She felt the urge curses like the soldiers of France she once fought beside, but managed to hold back.  Instead, she took a deep breath, knelt and tried to roll her fallen charge over so that she could get a better look at him.  She knew he was wounded, but at the same time, he felt completely healthy to her over their link.  Had he felt weaker then she wouldn¡¯t have risked it, but in his current state she was sure that it would do him no harm.

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    She pushed against his side and was surprised at the level of strength she needed to use to roll him onto his back.  He shouldn¡¯t be this heavy, she¡¯d kicked, thrown, tripped and generally knocked him over enough over the past week to have a good idea of how much he weighed, and it wasn¡¯t this much.  As he fell onto his back the resurrected Saint of France saw what had become of Adam, and for all her control and bravery she couldn¡¯t help but draw back in shock, her repressed curses spilling forth.

    It was as though the young man had bloated like an old corpse, his skin swelling up all over him as if his body had been filled with air or liquid.  Even worse he seemed to have fused into a single lump, his arms were now welded to his body, his legs joined into a single mass.  More than that, his flesh seemed to be hardened as she watched!  In fact . . .

    Joan narrowed her eyes as she looked down.  No, it wasn¡¯t her imagination, her charge¡¯s form really did seem to be swelling even further.  It was as though he was growing in size, but as he was doing so he was losing detail.  Already he looked less like a recumbent form than he did a chopped-down tree trunk.

    Experimentally she tried to move him and found that she was right.  His whole form was rigid, as though he were carved from one big chunk of wood.  In fact . . . she found she could easily pick him up and he didn¡¯t bend at all.  Unsure of what else to do she turned and carefully made her way back to the farmhouse, carrying him as gently as she could.

    What was this?  She might not be an expert on the awakening of demigods, but she hadn¡¯t heard of anything like this happening before.  True, there had been those that had taken on certain elemental properties, such as stone skins or hair of frothing brine, but not something like this.  It was as though his skin had bloated out in order to encompass him in . . .

    . . . In a chrysalis!

    The realization rose up in her mind as she looked at him.  Yes, that was it.  His skin was hardening and bloating to make room for the new form within.  She knew that some races of the Fey went through something like this as they reached maturity.  But she¡¯d never have expected Adam to undergo such a transformation.  Why, in the name of God was it happening now?

    Carefully she carried him through the main living area of the farmhouse to one of the back rooms.  In days gone by this area would have served as a storage hall in winter and in summer would have been where dances and parties were held.  With the refitting of the building, insulation had been added and wooden boarding covered the floor.  One end of it held some extra furniture that she had received while getting the farmhouse ready, and it was to those piles that she now moved.

    Among the tables, chairs, chests of draws and desks was a large sofa that she¡¯d elected not to use in the main household.  Despite being large and luxurious, the golden embroidery and red upholstery were too strident for her taste.  It had been relegated to this storage room.  Joan did not feel that her charge''s current form should be just left on the floor, but leaving him propped up against a wall seemed even more inappropriate.  She¡¯d been planning to take him up to his room but then thought better of it as a few recollections about the changing of the Fey came to mind.

    Some of them, those of an elemental affinity could be quite destructive when they emerged from their cocoons, doing so in bursts of fire, lightning, or pure magical force.  In the faery realms, this was only a minor concern since the realms such fey lived in were already elementally aligned.  What damage could a burst of fire do inside a volcanic chamber?  Of what import was a burst of lightning upon peeks where such thunderbolts fell almost as often as the very rain?  However, she doubted the farmhouse would be as suitable.

    No, this sofa would serve as a cushion, and by placing him at this end of the storeroom he¡¯d be distant enough from the main building so that if there was damage it would be away from the living quatres.

    Probably.

    The reborn French saint let out a deep sigh as she stared down at the rapidly darkening length of hardened flesh.  It no longer really resembled a human anymore so much as it did a sealed sleeping bag made out of a giant beef jerky.  At least it seemed to have stopped growing.

    The ritual that she had used might have been relatively simple, but it was unquestionably powerful due to both the reagents used and the forces that it had called upon.  Not only had Heaven been called upon, but the Earth had also contributed to the power amassed, an ideal mixture to Awaken one with blood ties to both the Heavens and the Earth.  Unfortunately, the interference of the demon hosts and the golem wrecked the ritual, introducing new energies and disrupting the timing.  It seemed Adam had been able to internalize most of the power.  Had he not, then there would have been a far larger crater out on the ritual site, maybe one big enough to have swallowed up the whole farmstead.

    All that power was now caught up inside his current form, so she had no way of knowing how much would be released when he emerged from it.

    If he did, at all.  There was just too much that she didn¡¯t know, given how much of a mess the whole thing had become.  For all she knew her charge would end up sleeping for a hundred years as his body slowly underwent the change from mortal to demigod.

    No!  No, she couldn¡¯t let herself fall into such thoughts.  The Almighty had been the one to set her on this path, and she had faith in Him and herself.  She had not failed in her duties, Adam was alive, and the first attack upon him had been driven back.  It had not been a total victory, but her charge was not taken and the foes had been driven back, that was worth something, wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Bon Dieu, soyez de mon c?t¨¦.¡±

    God be on my side, it was a sentiment that she meant emphatically at that moment.

    Gathering her strength she turned and began to consider what defences she could prepare in the event of another attack.  The enemy had been beaten back, but her ability to assume her angelic form was exhausted for the time being.  It would be at least a full day before she could use it once more.  Until then she could only use the gifts that were inherent to her, her skills, her strength, her command over light and air.  It wasn¡¯t ideal, but she could not imagine that those behind an attack such as this one would have been able to muster another one so easily.  The creation of a weapon such as the golem would not have been an easy feat.  So, its loss would have given that particular quarter pause.

    However, others would seek Adam, and if he was not in a position to defend himself then it was possible to force him to serve them.  Some would not be cruel about it, she knew there were gods out there that genuinely had the best interests of the world and the mortals at their hearts.  However such deities might seek to bind her charge to their cause, feeling that they would be able to best direct him to where he was needed.

    That could not be allowed!  The Lord had not told her one way or another what Adam¡¯s fate was to be, but she had been told of what was coming.  Her charge would need to be free, unchained by allegiance to any one faction.  There was no harm in him forming alliances or friendships, but he could not be subordinate to any of them.

    For now, she was going to have to guard him and ensure that he stayed safe for however long it took for him to complete his Awakening.  The thought gave her resolve as she mentally repeated it.  It was a goal she could focus upon, a task by which to orient her actions.  Slowly she felt the near panic of a few moments before start to die away.  Yes, the situation was not ideal, but she could still deal with it.

    Her sense of duty would allow nothing less.

    Dropping her hand to the hilt of her sword she decided to make a quick circuit of the farmstead, to determine the best place to stand guard.  Then her watch would begin.

 Chapter 12: Aftermath: Part Three

    Chapter 12: Aftermath: Part Three

    Far away enough to be well out of sight, but near enough that her mystic senses could pick up what was going on, the woman in battered clothing picked herself up off the ground.  Before her were the remains of the supernatural tools that she had used, every one of them broken or burnt from the scale of the energies that she had channelled through them.  The ground smouldered in the places where the rods had been buried.  The other reagents she had placed beneath the ground had all melted into slag along with them.  To the side her bag was in a sorry state, torn open in her haste to reach for the contents, now all but emptied.

    ¡°That . . . was harder than expected.¡±

    She muttered the words as she picked herself up, wincing in slight pain as she put her weight on her left leg.  Glancing down she saw that a deep cut had sliced through the upper outside of her thigh and a steady flow of blood was spilling forth.  To a mortal, the amount of blood being lost would have been enough to warrant concern, but to her, it would normally have been only a minor annoyance.  But these were not normal circumstances.

    Even if she had been in the full flush of her power, what she had just done would have been taxing.  The powers that had been invoked by the ritual had been both primal and mighty, probably more so than the agent of Heaven was aware of, and due to the battle that had broken out, those powers had begun to run rampant.  Then there had been that sudden surge of the hellish energies left over by those fallen homunculi.  One that had condensed then spread out.  Without the ability to draw upon her full power she had been forced to use reagents and sorcery to calm the raging forces and bring them back into some sort of order, and then she¡¯d had to frantically scramble to keep the demonic forces from tainting everything.

    Had she not been there to do so . . . well, she wasn¡¯t sure if Adam would have died, not given the potency of his bloodline, but the divine agent might have been consumed by the eruption of untamed power, and Adam¡¯s Awakening would most likely have been tainted or distorted in some way.  Both outcomes would have been less than acceptable, so she had worked desperately to stabilize or drive off the energies as soon as she realized how out of control they were.

    It had not been easy, and she wasn¡¯t sure how successful she¡¯d been with the hell-born energies.  Practically all her reagents had been used up in the effort, and replacing them was not going to be easy.  Some, such as mint and sage, could be found in almost any modern supermarket and were easily prepared by her own efforts.  Others, such as the powdered bones of virgin saints, or the tears of a gorgon, would be much harder to replace.  Her wealth was spent, and hiding as she was, it would be difficult to recoup it.

    Still, she¡¯d been able to save the young demigod, so it was not as though her resources had been wasted.

    Biting down with a grimace of pain she splashed water from a bottle onto her wound.  She couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of amusement that she, of all people, would consider the use of her resources for the benefit of others to not be a waste.  Once upon a time, oh so long ago, she would have been readier to give up her skin than she would have been to part with even the least of her possessions.  Now she was content even though she owned virtually nothing.  It was an irony she dearly wished she could share with someone.

    Dismissing her wandering thoughts, she wiped her injury clean, bound it before more blood could be lost, and then tugged her trousers back up around her hips.  It wasn¡¯t perfect, it wasn¡¯t fully recovered, but it would do for the time being.  Even in her weakened state, her recovery would be faster than any mortal.  This time tomorrow she might not be free from pain, but the wound would already have scabbed over.  It wasn¡¯t something to dwell upon.

    No, what was of more importance was going over what she had been able to sense of the demigod¡¯s Awakening.

    Due to her preparations, she¡¯d been connected to the natural flows of energy in the area, enough so that she¡¯d been able to sense almost everything that had happened.  The interference of the demon hosts had sent everything amok.  Had she not been there to force the rampaging energies into some sort of order then there was no telling what the chaotic power might have done.

    She¡¯d done her best, but she was still worried about what the final results of her efforts might yield.  She¡¯d been able to preserve the core concept of the ritual, to channel the energies that it had gathered into the demigod so that they could be used to both jumpstart and fuel the process of Awakening his divinity.

    By the time the process of driving the energy into the young man had begun, the mass of accumulated power had shifted from the carefully balanced union that it had been into a wild seething cauldron of chaos.  There had been far more heavenly power in there than had originally been expected, and too much earthy essence as well.  The moon, air, stars and fire had been reduced to a vicious medley, and to top it off all those demon hosts dying and releasing their spirits had also spiked the mixture with the essence of hell.  As a final touch, the demigod managed to kick off the entire process by stabbing one of the stronger demon hosts with one of the feathers of a powerful archangel, thus triggering the whole thing with a clash of utterly diametrically opposing forces.

    He had been able to absorb most of the mess of energies, she¡¯d seen to that, but she had no idea of what effect the intake of such chaotic forces would have upon his divine Awakening.

    That he would Awaken was not in doubt, but all else was thrown into uncertainty.

    One thing was a given though, when he did Awaken the rest of the world would take notice.  She knew that there were a number of special demigods in the current generation.  Adam was one of them, and the only one she knew of.  She knew they¡¯d all be important though.  And when such futures came into being they sent ripples about the world that beings of power could sense.

    But the ¡®when¡¯ was uncertain, as was the ¡®how¡¯.  His ascension would be as strong as he was, and if she was correct . . . well, it wasn¡¯t outside the realms of possibility that the entire countryside might burn if his powers were incendiary in nature.

    Such a possibility was fearsome, but she doubted that the Lord of the High Heavens would allow things to spiral too far out of control.  True, He might be limited in what He could do, or rather what price He would pay in order to act, but this was not a matter He would remain idle upon.  On that, at least, she was certain.

    Taking a couple of experimental steps she nodded as there was a sting of pain, but hardly anything that could incapacitate her.  Sweeping the remains of her ritual into her bag she turned and began to limp back towards the road.  There wasn¡¯t much she could do now, not with her resources as exhausted as they were, but she was pretty sure she could manage to hitchhike back to the nearest town.  She still had a little money left, and it would hopefully be enough to let her buy some herbs and basic reagents.  Most practitioners would need advanced materials, but not her.  She had been at this longer than most countries had been in existence.  She could do some pretty impressive stuff with some dried acorns, a few sprigs of rosemary, and a piece of malachite.  She¡¯d be able to use some basic magic to scrape some money together, enough to let her stay in the area for some time.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Hopefully long enough for the demigod to Awaken.

    In the end, it all revolved around him, about what he could become and what he would do.

    About the chance that he could offer her.

    She clenched her fists at that thought, the thought that had let her continue on for so long.  She¡¯d abandoned all her former allegiances, all her former privileges, all of it, simply on the hope that had been offered by that possibility.  The young man held possibilities for her, possibilities for others.  Possibilities she was unwilling to let slip away.

    Sighing, she hitched her bag up again as it started to slip off her shoulder.  This had not been how she was expecting things to go down.  She had planned to do her best to ensure his awakening went as smoothly and potently as she could manage, then, once his power had manifested, she¡¯d try to speak to him directly.  Granted, the agent of the High Heavens would have been a challenge to work around, but she was sure that it would have been within her abilities.  From there . . . well, she hadn¡¯t been certain.  She had something of an idea as to his personality, of how he thought and reacted, so she was sure she could get him to understand how valuable she could be, hopefully enough that he¡¯d let her aid him despite the inevitable protests from the French saint.

    Now though . . .  She could wait around for a few weeks, and see how the situation developed.  If the worst came to the worst she could see about finding ways to get him out of that cocoon herself.  It would no doubt be costly, both in power and materials, but it would be more than worth the price to-

    Her thoughts were interrupted by a pain in her leg.  At first, she¡¯d thought it was simply the wound acting up, but as she moved to take another step she felt it again, not the sharp pain of sliced flesh being moved, this felt duller, rawer, and that sudden difference concerned her.  Her healing was good, but such a sudden shift in sensation was . . . not what she had been expecting.

    Concerned she paused in place and undid her trousers.  Having pulled them down she gingerly undid the makeshift bandage she¡¯d wrapped around the cut, wincing slightly as it was pulled away from her skin to reveal . . .

    . . . Scales?

    Her eyes widened as she saw the small patch of skin that had been replaced with the reptilian skin.  Around it, her flesh was red and raw, as though afflicted with a vicious rash.  But in the middle of the reddened skin sat a small patch of scales the colour of freshly fallen snow.  Experimentally her finger extended, the nail digging in under the scales, trying to pry them up.  Blood leaked from around them and she bit her lip at the pain, but the tiny scales refused to come loose.

    Letting go she cursed sulphurously, several of the oaths used being ones that had not been heard upon the planes of mortals for more than a thousand years.  This was bad, very bad!

    She¡¯d thought that she wouldn¡¯t need to worry about this until after she had won Adam¡¯s trust! She¡¯d thought that by then he¡¯d be in a position to help her!  Even if the powers he developed couldn¡¯t be of direct aid to her she¡¯d been sure that by then he¡¯d have been able to call in some favours or deals with those that would have the power.  Damn it!  She¡¯d been so careful, decades, CENTURIES, of hard work, or control, of self-denial, all to keep herself hidden and to avoid exactly what was happening!

    It was an unnecessary complication and one that didn¡¯t bode well for her long-term future.  For now, this was manageable, a single small patch of the scales was nothing by itself, simply a hint of what was coming, but as time passed they would grow and spread, become what they had once been.

    Damn it!

    No, no, she had to stay calm, had to stay in control!  This was a poor situation, but it wasn¡¯t unmanageable.  Options were still open to her, though most of them were less appealing than she would have preferred.  Some of them would require resources she didn¡¯t have access to though. Others would devour the time that was currently her most precious resource.  Worst of all were the options that forced her to call upon the very power that she wanted to keep hidden.

    Heaving an exasperated sigh she reapplied the bandages and tugged up her trousers again.  There was nothing she could do here, she¡¯d have to continue with her original plan and see about making her way back to town.  Once she could find out what was possible for her . . . well, she could work from there.

    Turning her back on the distant farmstead once more she continued to limp her way towards the road.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The hellish energies had no mind, no thoughts.  They did not plan or strategize; such a thing was beyond them.  What they did have was a will, a drive created by a combination of the order that had been imposed upon them by the magic user, and their nature.

    The nature of hell was both complex and simple.  It was the enemy of all, everything in existence was to be brought to ruin and obliteration.  The routes that could be taken to this goal were myriad though, as innumerable as the endless array of sins that existed for every being in Creation to fall prey to.  A simple goal, but a complex method.

    The energies once contained by the homunculi had never possessed a consciousness, but no portion of hell existed without the imprint of hell¡¯s will.  The will of hell drove the loose power to destroy all, the will of the mage drove them to destroy the young demigod.  Both wills could have fought, but instead, they drove each other on, drove the energies on.

    The energies had attempted to strike out at the helpless form of the demigod, but an attack of heavenly power had struck them before they could do any harm.  This divine energy carried the power of the High Heavens, a force that could be considered the natural enemy of the powers born of the Deeper Hells.  Measure for measure these forces were normally equal, with external factors determining the victor when they clashed.  In this case, the heavenly power had the advantage, being directed by a powerful will and being backed by the skill and power of its user.

    By contrast, the hellish energies had no backup, no force pushing them on.  All they had was their own power and the imperatives driving them on.  The difference between the two forces was as great as a rabble of lightly armoured foot soldiers being struck by a charge of heavily armed and armoured cavalry.  There was resistance, but in the end, there was no doubt as to the outcome.

    Scattered, broken, the energies lost the cohesion that had allowed them to act.  The will was still there, but it too was fragmented.  Under other circumstances they might have dissipated into the atmosphere, eventually broken down and reduced to nothing by the ambient mana of the world, however, one thing saved them.

    Hurt and insensate though he might be, the demigod was still drawing in power as an unconscious man might still draw in breath.  It was a small thing when compared to the flood he¡¯d drawn in before, but it was still a thin current of energy.

    A current the hellish energies could ride.

    Once again there was no thought, there was just a reaction to the environment, as mindless as a plant turning to face the sun.  Rather than dissipating the remaining energies condensed once more.  This time they did not take a single unified form though, such was no longer possible for them.  Instead, the energies that survived, that had enough power to react to the change, hardened into tiny flecks no large than a grain of rice.  They were tiny wispy things, easily missed in the darkness after sunset and even more easily mistaken for drifting ash if they were spotted.

    Drawn by the current of the demigod¡¯s power they were pulled into him along with the tiny streams of mana he was swallowing up.  Like seeds caught in a stream, they were pulled along, until the current ran out and they found themselves caught in the pool of power that was being accumulated.  Under other circumstances they might have been subsumed, broken down and used as fuel to power the demigod¡¯s ascension to greater heights, but something was different.

    The Awakening was incomplete, stalled in place.  Where the pool of power should have been consumed it was instead simply sitting there, untapped and unused.

    For the condensed seeds of hellish energy, it was an opportunity.  They were still tiny to the point of insignificance, so corrupting the pool was beyond them.  What they could do was feed, to take some of the fertile power about them and use it to grow in strength.

    They would feed, they would grow, they would gather.  And when the time was ripe they would strike and complete their imperative.

    The death of the demigod.

 Chapter 13: Prayers and Angels: Part One

    Chapter 13: Prayers and Angels

    Joan came awake with a start, her hand grabbing at her sword on pure reflex, the blade already half raised in order to strike out at whatever enemy might be drawing close.  It took a moment for her conscious thoughts to catch up with her body, to realize that the dream she¡¯d awakened from was not the reality she now faced.

    For a moment confusion ruled the resurrected saint¡¯s mind.  How had she ended up in an armchair?  Where were the monsters she¡¯d been fighting? Why . . . why was there sun shining through the thin windows?  It had still been dark when she sat down, so why . . .

    Her eyes widened as realization struck her, and then flicked over to the old windup clock that hung from one wall.  It had been as much as six hours since she had chosen to take a moment to rest.  In an almost explosive motion, she shot out of the chair and moved to check on Adam.

    The cocoon his body had become was where she had left it, But had the cocoon grown somewhat in size?  She was fairly sure that it had fitted onto the settee quite comfortably when she¡¯d first put it down there, but now it seemed to be spilling over the side just a bit.

    It had been nearly two days since the ritual, and it had not been an easy time for her.  Returning to her mortal form had allowed her to heal her wounds, but the energy she¡¯d expended in the fight still needed to be recovered.  She¡¯d rested, but she hadn¡¯t allowed herself to sleep.  Instead, she had forced herself to remain awake, devouring the leftover food from the kitchen in an attempt to keep up herself awake.

    The food had helped.  Magic had helped too, but she knew better than to rely on it solely.  She had still expended a great deal of power though, so rest had been needed.  She¡¯d been able to recover somewhat by sitting in a chair next to Adam¡¯s cocooned form, her sword at the ready, and the first day had gone by relatively easily.

    By the start of the second day she had begun to flag, though not physically.  As far as her body went, she¡¯d been able to recover almost perfectly, even the bruises of her battle fading and her muscles losing the ache of the strain she¡¯d placed upon them, but her mind was another matter.  She¡¯d already been awake for more than forty-eight hours, and that would be taxing for anyone.  Under other circumstances, it would have simply been an annoyance for the French saint, but it had been mentally taxing to channel the magic that she had, so she¡¯d found her thoughts growing increasingly fuzzy and distracted as time passed.

    Coffee had helped, even though she had no idea how the bitter drink had become so popular.  Even if it tasted foul it did provide her with the boost of energy she needed to keep going for another day.  But by the end of it, she¡¯d begun to flag once more, and further caffeine had not helped.  Perhaps she¡¯d pushed herself too far because the aches of her limbs had partially returned, even though she was fully healed.

    She¡¯d felt tired, bone weary, both in body and in mind.  But she refused to relent, so she¡¯d forced herself to continue to be on guard, to stand ready in case those that had attacked the ritual returned.  Then, when that had become too much, she¡¯d pulled up an armchair and sat down next to the sofa.  She hadn¡¯t laid down her sword though and had held it ready, her magical senses reaching out to spot the first hint of a portal appearing or any other sort of arrival.

    She wasn¡¯t really sure when she had fallen asleep, but at some point, her single-minded devotion to sensing had fallen into a sort of meditation. In turn that had slipped into a thoughtless stupor, and then finally the dark abyss of slumber.

    ¡°Allez soldate, pas de faibless!¡±

    Berating herself for her weakness Joan reached out, making certain that she could sense no changes.  Thankfully, the farmstead remained as it had been, untouched save for the lingering remnants of the battle on the night of the ritual.  No monsters, no spies, just the normal insects and birds that one would expect in this part of the countryside.

    A sigh escaped her lips as some of the tension bled away, but it was a disappointed sigh, one born of her disgust at her weakness.  She was meant to be Adam¡¯s guardian!  How had she fallen so far short of the expectations of her God?

    Her free hand clenched into a fist as she turned to step out of the shed.  She wanted to move, wanted to get her blood flowing, wanted to dispel the last remnants of sleep clinging to her thoughts.  She also wanted something to eat, but she¡¯d get to that later.

    The short patrol around the farmhouse didn¡¯t take very long, but it at least helped burn off some of the nervous energy her adrenaline spike had forced on her.  However, even if her body had calmed her thoughts were still unsettled.

    The situation was not a good one, that was what it came down to.  She had been sent to act as both a teacher and a bodyguard to Adam, but up until now most of her plans had been based around keeping him safe until he was able to manifest his divine powers.  Her thought had been that once he had access to his full power it would simply be a matter of training him to use them.

    Unfortunately, Adam was now caught in a highly vulnerable state after she had failed to protect him.  As things stood Joan was his only line of defence, and she wasn¡¯t sure she was enough on her own.

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    Her stomach rumbled, and frustration twisted her lips as she returned to the kitchen.  Some part of her wished that the enemies would attack once more, at least that was something that she knew how to deal with.  Instead, she ate her food almost mechanically, all her focus was on what to do, and how she could improve the situation.

    The basic problem was that she was a fighter, a bodyguard, a teacher, that was what she had trained herself for during her time in Heaven.  This was beyond that and now she was lost.

    Her short sleep had restored some of her strength, but she still wasn¡¯t sure how long she could keep this up.  And on top of that she still had no idea of what to do with Adam.

    Taking a drink of orange juice Joan savoured the taste as she went over her options.

    Should she flee?  Should she take Adam, contact her mortal allies and try to establish a new base?  Her allies were wealthy and connected, but they lacked in raw power, would they be able to help?  Perhaps it would be best to remain in the farmhouse, to fortify it more?

    What should she do?!  Was her choice correct?!  She didn¡¯t know!  She didn¡¯t know!  She didn¡¯t . . .

    The world froze as she suddenly became aware of her own thoughts.  It was a moment of self-realization, as though a part of her just stepped back and she was suddenly looking in at her thoughts from an outside perspective.  And what she saw did not please her.

    She¡¯d been in a similar situation before, out of her depth, unsure of her choices, desperate to help but uncertain of what to do.  It was familiar, it made her think of cities at war and soldiers losing hope.  What had she done then, when she¡¯d been so overwhelmed?

    Well, that was at least easy to answer, she¡¯d always . . .

    Always . . .

    . . . always prayed to God.

    It was so obvious!  When was the last time that she had truly prayed to the Lord?  Not a more habitual prayer such as saying grace at a meal, nor oaths or pleas offered in the heat of the moment.  When had she offered up words she truly wanted the Lord to hear?  What with training Adam, preparing for the ritual, and the many other tasks she¡¯d taken upon herself . . .

    Was that it?  Had she taken too much upon herself?  Had she been arrogant, thinking to accomplish her task alone, without even turning to the Almighty?

    No.  It had not been pride, she was sure of that.  Thinking back upon her actions, upon the decisions she had made and why she had made them the resurrected saint¡¯s eyes widened as she realized why she had begun to isolate herself.

    Heaven and hell existed in check and balance to each other, neither able to make a move without making an opening the other could exploit.  It was not a completely rigid balance, otherwise, there would have been no action taken by either faction, but it was one that both sides maintained carefully.  Joan knew that her resurrection had impacted that balance and had done her best to be worthy of the investment her Lord had made in her.

    Was that where she had gone astray?  Had she been so determined to take no more of the resources of the High Heavens that she had become reticent in asking for aid when it was needed?  Even her prayers . . . had she been trying to avoid disappointing the Almighty by asking for His help?

    As the thought occurred to her Joan took a moment to examine herself, how she felt, how she was acting.  She was tired, she was running herself ragged, and she was being driven on by her fear of failing both her charge and her God.  When had she fallen into the trap of feeling she had to do everything herself?  When had she begun to feel she was alone?

    She was never alone.

    Without further hesitation, the French saint clasped her hands before her, closed her eyes, and bowed her head.  To all appearances, it wasn¡¯t much different from when she said grace, but this time she wasn¡¯t merely repeating a ritual out of respect to her God, instead she was directing both her words and her thoughts to Him.

    Even though she didn¡¯t need to she spoke out loud, her words barely more than a whisper meant only for her and the focus of her faith.

    ¡°Lord, I am . . . uncertain of what I am doing.¡±

    The confession felt almost like a betrayal.  How many times had she assuaged her charge¡¯s worries by telling him to have faith in the Almighty?  How many times had she assured him that the God of the High Heavens would not have set this task before them if they were unfit for it?  The Lord had placed her on this task, so who was she to question if she had been the correct choice?  But that was what she found herself doing.

    ¡°I wish to keep Adam safe, but I do not know the steps to take.  I wish to guard him, but I do not possess the strength to do so alone.¡±

    She paused, trying to align both her thoughts and her feelings into some semblance of order.

    ¡°I shall continue.  I will not abandon the task assigned to me, not even if my body breaks and there is nothing left of me but dust.¡±

    She paused again; the next words hard to say out loud.

    ¡°I . . . I do not know if what I intend to do next is the correct path, but I shall trust my judgement, and trust in your wisdom in having chosen me for this role.  I shall do my best, and I shall strive to surpass my best.  I pray that shall be enough, but if it is not then I can only hope you give me the strength needed to overcome that as well.

    ¡°I shall act as Adam¡¯s guardian,¡± She continued, trying to put her feelings into words. ¡°And I shall allow none to harm him before he gains his power, to do so they shall need to step over my broken and burnt corpse!  But . . .¡±

    Once more she paused, struggling with her next words despite her earlier conclusions.

    ¡°I would welcome aid,¡± She admitted. ¡°I can protect him with all I have, but . . . I do not know how to help him past his current state.  If aid is not needed, if all he requires is time, then I shall protect him.  I have fears though, I fear that a stronger attack than the one upon his Awakening will be more than I can drive off.  Lord, if our enemies will come at us again in greater strength, should he need skills I do not possess, then I trust in your providence and mercy.

    ¡°Lord God, watch me on my path, grant me the mercy of your blessings, and please allow me to succeed in my task.¡±

    Those last words felt somewhat formulaic, somewhat at odds with the reality she knew.  But at the same time, they contained her true feelings, so they were sincere.

    Standing up she had to admit, she felt better.  Her thoughts felt less burdened, less unsure.

    In fact . . . she felt much better, her lingering tiredness and discomfort simply melting away.  And more than that, there was a feeling that she was not on her own, that she would soon have aid in the care of Adam.  There was no concrete reason for such an emotion, but she felt it nonetheless.

    Her smile grew as her eyes flicked to the cocoon, and then to the sunlight outside.

    It would seem that her prayer had meant more than she had thought it would.

 Chapter 13: Prayers and Angels: Part Two

    She collapsed onto the bed, the somewhat hard mattress still feeling as welcoming as silk and feathers to her tired body.  For a while she just lay there, not even bothering to take off her hood, simply luxuriating in the simple act of no longer having to carry her own weight.

    The last couple of days had not been too pleasant.  She¡¯d had to sleep in a field the night before, unable to afford even a modest room like the one she was currently in.  It hadn¡¯t been the first time she¡¯d needed to do so, but the experience was never a pleasant one.  At least this time it hadn¡¯t been raining, that was always the worst.

    Still, things were looking up.  Though she¡¯d been forced to leave herself penniless to buy basic reagents she was now slowly recovering.  The charms of luck and prosperity that she¡¯d put together had been crude, but she was skilful enough to be able to empower them using only the local ambient energy.  Since that meant she didn¡¯t need to risk using her power it was a safe and slow option.  The charms took hours to charge, and then even more to take effect, but they did work.

    Patience was important, and anonymity was priceless.

    With he help of the charms she¡¯d stumbled across a lost wallet, returned it to the owner, after finding their address inside, and received a small reward in cash.  With that cash, she¡¯d been able to buy some more potent reagents, some that let her perform considerably more potent magic.  Enough that a rather wealthy man passing through the town had decided to make a large cash withdrawal from a cash point, then had a moment of forgetfulness and left the cash there without taking it.  Cash she¡¯d grabbed the second he¡¯d left.  It was the sort of deed she was trying to avoid, but she consoled herself by remembering that to him it was just a drop in the ocean, hardly anything he¡¯d miss.

    It had been that money that had let her rent this room, and which would hopefully allow her to stay here until she was ready for her next move.  She couldn¡¯t allow herself many luxuries, as that trick wasn¡¯t one she wanted to repeat too often.  Such a use of power could quickly draw attention she couldn¡¯t risk.  For now, she was secure though, and that allowed her a little time to rest and recover.

    Sitting up she reached over to her bag and pulled up the rolled-up newspaper that had been sticking out of it.  As far as papers went it was a reliable, and had been for decades.  What was important was that they gave her a general idea of how the world was doing, and hopefully help her get a heads up on anything that might pose a danger to herself or the demigod that she was tying her fate to.  She¡¯d have preferred to trawl the internet and social media, but without access to a computer, she¡¯d have to fall back on printed articles.

    So, what were the headlines today?

    The front page was taken up by an aerial picture of a large cruise ship, one that was surrounded by a swirl of frothy currents.  To all appearances, it was as though a whirlpool was trapping the vessel, though given how the picture showed some of the ship¡¯s passengers sunning themselves on the leisure deck it clearly wasn¡¯t a dangerous situation.  The headline over the picture was ¡®Held at Sea¡¯, with a smaller bulletin taking up a small corner of the paper.

    Giving it a quick read she saw that though spectacular, the situation wasn¡¯t a dangerous one.  It seemed that the ship had been cruising off the coast of Italy when some unscrupulous, and possibly unintelligent, employee had decided to cut corners in their assigned task of hauling some rubbish to where it should have been stored.  Apparently, they had decided it would be easier to simply dump it overboard, a decision that had precipitated the entire mess.

    The hooded woman snorted at that.  There was always one, one idiot that seemed devoid of common sense.  Ever since the return of the gods the various shipping and tourist companies had made it policy not to do any sort of dumping into the ocean.  Naturally, it hadn¡¯t been motivated by any sort of altruism.  It had been purely practical.

    The fact was that dumping had become far ever before.  Gods and spirits could take offence at this defilement of their world, inflicting curses upon the ship¡¯s crew, trapping them at sea, or even attacking the vessel.

    Monsters could be even worse.  The dumped trash sometimes acted as a lure for them, especially if there was decomposing food in the mix.  Gods and spirits might attack vessels that offended them, but they normally only did so to inflict some punishment on those they felt had wronged them.  Monsters though, could be totally unrestrained, and their attacks were almost always bloody and devastating, leaving only bloody ghost ships or broken wreckage behind.

    But there was always that one idiot that thought the rules didn¡¯t apply to them, that they could get away with it ¡®just this time¡¯ because all those things didn¡¯t happen to someone like them.  As a result, the luxury cruiser had ended up locked in place by strong localized currents under the control of the Celtic god, Ll?r.

    Though a deity of Welsh origin, Ll?r had apparently chosen to travel to the warmer climes of the Mediterranean and had simply been enjoying the calm of the area before being provoked by the careless dumping.  The article was surprisingly detailed as the sea god had been willing to answer the questions asked by the ship¡¯s occupants being held against their will.  Answers they had then passed on when they called for help.

    The situation had garnered a certain amount of attention in France due to the fact that nearly a third of the ship¡¯s occupants had been French tourists, which was why it was gracing the front page of the paper.  Fortunately, the ¡®hostage¡¯ situation was not threatening.  The ocean god did not wish to exact any sort of violence upon the ship¡¯s passengers, he simply wished for the offending party to willingly hand themselves over for punishment.  It wouldn¡¯t even be a harsh punishment either, of that he was very clear, merely humiliating, and nothing they could not recover from.

    The problem was that the transgressor was unwilling to own up, apparently convinced that if they did then they would face a far bloodier fate than was promised.  The result was that they were hiding, barricaded in their room, and refusing to come out.  Under other circumstances, the other passengers upon the cruiser might have formed a lynch mob and dragged them out, but Ll?r had been quite clear that he wished them to come forth willingly.  Exactly why he was so adamant on this issue was less clear, but the writer of the article was chalking it up to ¡®mysterious godly behaviour¡¯, even if they didn¡¯t use those exact words.

    The news that Ll?r had established himself in that area of the ocean was of minor interest, but aside from that, the article was largely useless to her.  A minor entertainment, one highlighting the prevalence of human stupidity, but otherwise unimportant.

    Turning the page, she spotted a story about some minor political scandal, then a story of a man doing something foolish with his lottery winnings, neither of which caught her attention.  She did pause as she saw a double-page spread devoted to multiple pictures of a very familiar god, one that appeared as a heart-achingly gorgeous young man with blonde hair and blue eyes.  The pictures showed him getting out of some sort of stretch limo, greeting hordes of fans, working on some movie set, and teaching a child how to use a bow at an archery course.  Of course, she knew who he was, she¡¯d have had to have been hiding under a rock to have not heard of one of the most famous of the returned gods.

    Apollo, son of Zeus and a member of the Olympian Twelve of the Greek pantheon, had been one of the first deities to step into public awareness and had made quite a splash when he did so.  Unlike many of the other returned gods, who had sought to quietly build a powerbase before stepping into the light, the Greek god of music and archery, among a great many other things, had leapt into the world of mortals with glee.  It had been he who had given the first few interviews to both academics and journalists that had let the world know just what the gods were, and why they had returned to the plane of mortals.  He¡¯d compounded this notoriety by essentially becoming the first divine celebrity.

    His method was simple, Apollo went to Hollywood and became an actor, and was immediately seized up by one of the big studios after a bidding war that could only be described as ¡®unholy¡¯ in its ruthlessness.   It turned out to be money well spent though, because while Apollo might not have officially been a deity of acting, he had been tied to the arts, such as music, dance and poetry, so his ability to perform was literally supernatural.

    In less than a month the Olympian had become a sensation the likes of which Tinseltown had never seen before.

    The thing was that every film production he was involved in profited greatly from Apollo¡¯s presence for many reasons.  The first was that he was an amazing actor, never needing to retake a shot, always able to deliver a brilliant performance.  Not only that, his very presence seemed to inspire and elevate the skills of those working with him.  Other actors consistently gave brilliant performances of their own, directors knew just what instructions to give or how to tweak the script, support staff were able to coordinate effortlessly, everything just seemed to go right around him.

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    As a result, the films and shows he¡¯d been involved in had been finished in record time.  What should have taken months being done in weeks.  This rapid production of high-quality work only served to further heighten the deity¡¯s fame, already high as one of the most visible divinities in the nation, but that had not been all he had done.  Since he didn¡¯t suffer from mortal fatigue or the after-effects of overindulgence Apollo was able to live the sort of life that would have left a normal celebrity burnt out in under a week, the sort of life that the media loved.  He could spend a day giving amazing performances, then go to a youth club to be seen teaching young men and women such skills as archery or dance, then spend the evening partying and drinking with the high rollers of Hollywood, drinking them under the table and gorging on the best food at the finest restaurants, only to be fresh as a daisy the next morning.

    It was quite clear to her the journalist writing the piece had been heavily swayed by Apollo¡¯s supernatural charisma because it did nothing but sing his praises.

    A soft chuff of laughter escaped her lips as she shook her hooded head.  Really?  It never ceased to amaze and amuse her how quickly mortals would forget the darker parts of the old legends.  Years of censorship and santising made it easy to the old mythes could be just as cruel as they could be kind.

    Yes, Apollo was a god who had committed many worthy deeds in his life.  He had slain the Python that had hunted him and his mother, he had aided in the defeat of the giants that assaulted Olympus, and he had invented the first lyre, but those were simply the bright spots of his legend.  Mortals forgot the darker deeds, the petty and cruel slights and curses.  They forgot how he killed seven brothers while Artemis, his sister, slew seven sisters, all because the mother of those fourteen had insulted the mother of the divine twins.  They forgot how he had once rebelled against Zeus himself, trapping him in a net with Poseidon and seeking to take his father¡¯s throne.  They forgot how he had once punished a satyr that had dared to challenge him to a music contest, by flaying him alive and nailing his skin to a tree.

    It was so easy for them to look at that charming smile and forget that this wasn¡¯t some sort of superhuman they were dealing with.  This was a god who had once gleefully wielded power over one of the great civilizations of the old world.

    Still shaking her head, she turned the page again, noting a couple of advertisements featuring demigod models, the photos of them posing beside some car or other no doubt captivating to any mortal, but hardly even a distraction to her.  There were other uninteresting articles, sports details, some small scandal by an equally small politician, the rising prices of petrol, none of it enough to catch her eye.

    Instead, she paged through to the back pages, the place where the darker articles could be found these days

    She wasn¡¯t sure where or when it had begun, but most newspapers seemed to be following a similar layout plan in how their stories were ordered.  The front ones were always the most eye-catching or light-hearted ones, the sort that the public lapped up.  Then there was the meat of the paper, the little things that people bought it for every day, the results of games, the reviews of films and television, the gossip columns, and celebrity spottings.  It was at the back that the more serious reporting could be found, the statistics about disappearances and abductions, the reports on which small towns had suddenly gone silent, pictures of the devastation left in the wake of mythological beings fighting each other, news on the hunt for the latest rogue demigod.

    These were the sorts of things she¡¯d need to know if she wanted her plan to work.  She realised that the knowledge that could be gleaned from these pages was minimal at best but given her own lack of any true intelligence-gathering assets it was the best she could work with.  After all, she did have the benefit of knowledge that most mortals lacked.  She could understand things that they missed, and form connections they would have overlooked.

    In that regard, two things stood out to her.

    The first was a report on a new drug that seemed to be spreading through the European black market.  Its origin was unknown, but its properties were oddly familiar to her.  It was the processed form of some fruit, was extremely addictive, and induced a state of blissful apathy where the one taking it just didn¡¯t do much of anything, just sat down wherever they were and enjoyed the effects.  What was even stranger was that those that took the drug appeared to completely subsist upon it, going for days in their drug-induced stupor without the ill effects of dehydration, starvation, or even needing to void themselves.  That it was of supernatural origin seemed to be clear enough, but as of yet not even the demigods that had allied themselves with the various governments had been able to locate the source.

    She had a good idea of what it was the article was talking about, and probably others had worked it out as well, given that it was hardly a brilliant deductive leap.  The hooded woman wasn¡¯t entirely sure why that information hadn¡¯t just been made public.

    This new drug was derived from the legendary fruits of the lotus, the same ones that had been encountered by Odysseus on his voyage back home after the Trojan War.  Back then he¡¯d been forced to drag away those members of his crew that had partaken of the fruit and then fallen to content apathy.  In this modern era, such supernatural fruits would be superior to any current narcotic.  It was a gentle poison, one that provided a bliss of apathy and oblivion without damaging the ones that consumed them.  Processed lotus fruit would prove just as addictive and would be far more easily concealed and transported.

    Such a drug that could be incredibly profitable, one that left no signs of abuse, one that didn¡¯t chip away at your health.  It was a good way for someone with the right connections to the legends to make large amounts of money quickly, and secure a steady flow of it.  No wonder it was already spreading fast through the black market.

    Of course, for those using the legendary fruits, the risks were high.  Aside from having to dodge the authorities, there were the existing criminal organizations that would not be happy with the competition.  And on the less mundane side of things, dealing in the fruits would almost inevitably get some of the legends involved.

    She supposed it was a sign that even the criminal underworld was having to adapt to the world¡¯s new reality.

    The other thing she spotted was somewhat less obvious, but it gave her a greater sense of concern, a report of an armoured knight riding a horse being sighted in the general area of the border between France and Italy.

    On its own, that would not have been enough to concern her, since the return of the legends archaic weapons and armour had been becoming more practical.  The more sophisticated a weapon, the more moving parts and chemical reactions it had, then the less able it was to hold any sort of mana.  That meant that any gods, mortals, or magical beings that wished to enchant an item had to use the more basic arms and defences as the foundations of their creations.  Given how mortals were rushing to regain their mastery of magic, and how some demigods had inherited an intuitive skill for enchantment, things like magic swords, armour, and the like were growing more common by the day

    The knight hadn¡¯t been identified, but the article mentioned that at one point the knight had removed his helmet, and a witness had noted a trio of scars running from his chin down his neck and disappearing under his armour.  According to the eyewitness, the scars had looked surprisingly livid, as though the wound that caused them had been a bad one, one that should have claimed the life of the one they were inflicted upon.

    The description was enough to spark a memory and a suspicion.

    During her time on Earth, she had done her best to keep watch upon the few mortals that managed to rise in power and significance during the time when the legends had been sealed away.  She had never done anything overt, always being a face in the background, a simple observer, rather than a player on the main stage.  She¡¯d briefly been at Camelot, near Arthur and his knights.  She had stood in the shadows of a village and watched as Jeanne d¡¯Arc had ridden by with her army.  And she¡¯d once stood at the back of a square as a dragon slayer saint spoke to a small crowd.

    Saint George had been unusually blessed as far as saints were concerned.  Rather than possessing enhanced charisma or good fortune, his blessings had taken the form of simple bodily power.  What would kill others he could survive, what would stop others he could break, what would slaughter others he could overcome.  Some versions of his tale even spoke of him returning to life several times despite being killed; such had been the force of his vitality.  Still, for all that he hadn¡¯t been immortal, and the scars of his wounds had been carved into his flesh and remained there.  And she remembered those marks, remembered thinking that without the blessings of his strength, he would have bled to death when his neck was cut open by the dragon he fought.

    Saint George was a dragon slayer, that deed being linked to his name and identity by centuries of legend and belief.  When he had returned to the mortal plane, and she still wasn¡¯t sure if he had come back on his own or if he had been sent, those legends had empowered him.  This meant that he had a specialism now, namely fighting and killing dragons.  And if he was hanging around the border of the country then that meant that there might be dragons nearby.

    And that was not good.

    Getting up she fished a beaten and creased map out of her rucksack and spread it out on the cheap metal and plywood table that served as a desk in this room.  It didn¡¯t take her long to find her current location, even if the map was almost a decade out of date.  From there she was able to find the place where the saint might have been sighted, then work out the distance between the two.

    Two hundred kilometres, so about . . . a hundred and twenty-five miles, roughly.  For a mortal on the ground that would have been the work of two or three days, if they maintained a respectable pace.  Even with modern vehicles, the trip would take at least three hours, if one had to follow the roads and obey speed limitations.  But a dragon on the wing . . .

    Barely two hours. At most.  And that was if the dragon in question was flying at a leisurely pace.  If they put real effort into it then that time could be cut in half, maybe even down to a third if they pushed themselves.

    When looked at from that perspective then suddenly the sightings didn¡¯t seem quite far away enough.

    Still, that was all simply the worst-case scenario.  Yes, there might be a dragon, but the odds that it was there for anything concerning Adam were extremely low.  Dragons, for the most part, didn¡¯t like to involve themselves in the affairs of heaven and hell unless it was to their benefit.  A dragon being hunted by Saint George would not be eager to cross a powerful demigod unless it had to

    There were a lot of ¡®ifs¡¯ and ¡®maybes¡¯ in this, too many for her to be sure of anything.  She sighed, too much uncertainty, not enough resources.  She¡¯d just have to hope that the heavenly agent guarding Adam knew what she was doing.

    Laying back on the bed she closed her eyes and tried to relax.  For the time being, all she could do was slowly rebuild her resources and prepare as best as she could.  She doubted that things were going to stay quiet for too long, after all.

 Chapter 13: Prayers and Angels: Part Three

    Joan sensed the approaching presence before she saw any hint of their physical body, their heavenly light shining upon the spiritual level like a small sun.

    She had been sitting in the backyard of the farmstead, a spot where her spiritual senses could encompass the whole building and some of the area around it.  It was a considerable area for a mortal mage to be able to monitor, but for one touched by Heaven Joan felt that her performance in surveying this was rather lacklustre and short of the mark.  Enhancing her senses had never been a priority during her celestial training; what she had was simply been a natural side effect of her spiritual growth and empowerment.

    Still, even with this limited ability, she was able to sense the distant signature of power began to draw near.  The distant being was making no effort to hide, and Joan became aware of their presence when they were still miles away.

    She felt a power that was fierce, crackling with barely restrained potency, and her hand had tightened about her sword hilt, the tension growing in her gut as she prepared to defend her charge.  It had only been when the powerful signature had drawn closer that the saint had been able to relax somewhat.

    This was unquestionably one of God¡¯s angels, one of the Heavenly soldiers that had acted as teachers to her while she had been in the afterlife.  Joan felt a surge of relief flow through her as she felt the presence drawing nearer.  It was good that she would no longer have to hold this vigil alone.  An ally here would ensure that there would be another to take up her task should she fail in its duty.

    Rising from the old deckchair and standing to attention she allowed the point of her sword to sink into the ground as she rested her hands upon it in a ready position.  Whoever her new ally might be she had no desire for them to find her seemingly lazing about.  That would hardly make a good first impression upon one of His angels.

    When the angel arrived, she did so with shocking speed.  Joan knew that in her angelic form, she was supernaturally swift, but it was one thing to know it, and quite another to see it before your mortal eyes.  One instant she had been searching the skies for any sign of the Heavenly Messenger, the next she had passed through the Hallowed Sanctuary and was right there in front of her.  The angel hovered a couple of feet off the ground and gazed down at the resurrected soul before her.

    ¡°Lady Joan, I am Hadriel.  It has been my honour to be assigned to protect the mortals of this plane and to be tasked with aiding you and your charge.¡±

    Immediately the French saint lowered herself to one knee, both her hands remaining clasped upon the hilt of her sword.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, I am blessed by your presence!¡±

    In response, the angel nodded and gestured for her to rise.

    As she got to her feet Joan took in the features of the celestial being before her.  As expected of an angel, she was flawless.  Her body was something akin to a work of art.  It was as though the finest creation of the greatest sculptor in the world had suddenly taken a breath and become flesh and blood. This angel was a thing of beauty, one that would overshadow any mortal.  She was tall, slender, and beautifully proportioned.  Her hair was a rich and lustrous copper, as though made from spun metal, and cascaded down her shoulders to reach almost to her hips.  Her eyes shone a brilliant aquamarine, bright enough to eclipse any gemstone.  This was the sort of loveliness that could rob those that witnessed it of their senses if they were not careful.

    From her back extended a large pair of wings, though their size made them more ornamental than practical.  Their thick plumage was a rich blood red that surprised the reborn saint.  She knew that, though most angels retained the colour of untouched snow for their wings, it was not unknown for some members of the heavenly army to find their wings taking on new tints due to their experiences.  Red was rare, but not so much it was unheard of and was considered the mark of a well-blooded warrior.

    Her halo was also unusual.  Rather than being a ring of light or energy that hovered above her head, it was an ornate metal circle more than a foot in diameter that hovered behind her and framed her head.  It was wrought from gold and was inlaid with a design of small angelic wings in a pleasing symmetrical fashion.  The metal matched a small, jewelled headpiece that adorned the angel¡¯s brow and held a jewel the same colour as her eyes, serving only to compliment it and her.  The halo seemed to radiate a subtle but sharp aura of power.

    In each of her hands, she held what could loosely be called a sword.  They were like the weapons of mortals in the most basic ways, namely that they had a blade, a hilt and a pommel.  When a mortal artisan created a weapon, they had to consider a multitude of factors such as weight, balance, points of weakness, the practicality of ornamentation, and the most appropriate metals to use.  The weapons of Heaven did not share these concerns since the process by which they were created was so different.  Yes, they were forged in fire, and hammered by a smith, but these actions were more symbolic than they were practical.  In Heaven substance was interchangeable with energy, and the forging of a weapon was more about the creation of a concept than it was about the material shaping of an item.  When the concept was forged then the form would follow, created from the elemental essence that permeated the higher planes of existence.

    For a normal mortal, the weapons Hadriel held would have been utterly impractical.  They would have been too heavy to wield with skill, too unbalanced to rely upon in combat.  The weapons were easily four feet in length, the metal thick and heavy enough that each alone would require a large and strong wielder to use them with both hands.  The blades were curved, the back of the blade blunt and inset with rings that jingled like small bells as it moved, the edge as keen as any that could be imagined.  The hilt was a heavy black grip with a golden guard that came over it in a manner somewhat similar to some sabre designs that mortals had used.  This guard was equipped with several extended spikes that Joan had no doubt could be used to entrap an enemy¡¯s sword or rend their flesh apart.  Each sword practically sang of death, being weapons that had been used often, both to spill blood from enemies and to protect others from harm.

    All in all, the heavenly soldier before was a figure of power and beauty that Joan would be happy to have as an ally.

    So why was she dressed like a harlot?

    Truthfully, she supposed that such a thought was uncharitable.  In modern society, many women wore similar coverage regularly, when they went to enjoy good weather on the seaside, or simply when they chose to exercise.  During the short time that Joan had spent in this new era, she had found herself somewhat scandalized by some of the clothing that women and girls freely chose to wear.  In her time there had been camp followers, prostitutes and wanton women, that had worn more modest apparel whilst trying to entice the custom of the soldiers serving in her army.

    What Hadriel wore was essentially a long loincloth and two strips of cloth covering her breasts.  Aside from the jewellery that she wore that was the entirety of her clothing.  Both the loincloth and the strips were made from a greyish-green material that shared qualities with both cloth and leather, the straps and cords of the brief clothing being made of the same material.  The top was tied to a jewelled necklace/collar that the angel wore, a piece of adornment that had a vaguely Egyptian look to it.  Hadriel also wore bracelets and anklets of a similar design, each adorned with small gems similar to the aquamarine jewel upon her forehead.

    And aside from those she was clad in nothing else, she did not even wear sandals.  It was a strange sight, though one that she knew would have thrilled almost all men, and also many women, who saw it.  After all, what sort of warrior went into battle in garb more suited to the fantasy of a pleasure slave?  The very notion was absurd!

    However, while Joan could not entirely approve of such a choice of apparel, she did know the angel was so clad, and the answer was in those swords.

    The armies of the High Heavens were vast in number, enough to blanket the world in their wings That meant that even though they were backed by all the riches and power of the celestial realms the number of resources available for each individual was limited.  As an angel climbed the ranks the resources available for them grew.  Resources with many uses, such as weapons, armour, augmentation to their halos, higher-level magic foci, or even servitor constructs.

    Hadriel was obviously stronger than the normal rank and file of the lesser angels, but her wings showed she was not of the higher choirs.  She would only have been granted a limited amount of material from the forges of heaven for her use, and it would seem that almost all had been used on her swords.  Between the material in each great blade, she could have formed a decent suit of armour, but instead, she had focused almost entirely on her offensive capacity.  A small portion was used to make the jewellery that was her magical foci and to enhance her halo, but all else had gone into her swords.

    It was the lack of additional resources to create defences that was most likely the reason for her current state of dress, or lack thereof, Joan guessed.

    Since her skin was already tough as iron and her body could endure scorching deserts or icy tundras with ease any armour or clothing of a more mundane nature served no practical purpose for her.  Additionally, as an angel she was a naturally beautiful being, and one that felt little in the way of shame, unlike mortals.  The simple and brief garments she wore were enough for her.

    Dismissing such thoughts from her mind Joan stood up, sheathing her sword as she did so.

    ¡°You have done well in finding and protecting your charge.  Our Father is pleased by your efforts in taking him from his former dwelling and bringing him to his haven that you had prepared.¡±

    The resurrected soul felt her heart swell with pride at such words.

    ¡°However . . .¡± and a single word was all that it took to bring her heart crashing down. ¡°It would seem that you were unable to adequately defend him during the time of his Awakening.  The Lord has sent me here to aid in the completion of his transformation, and to aid you in the continued protection that he shall require in the times to come.¡±

    There was no malice in her words, no condescension, no contempt, but even so, Joan could not help but feel that she was being talked down to.  She felt a spike of indignation starting to rise in her heart, but she ruthlessly slapped it down.  It was true, she might not like it, but she had been unable to completely carry out the duty placed upon her.  Yes, she had protected Adam and kept him from being taken by the demon hosts, but she had failed to keep them from disrupting the ritual.  Perhaps if she had used her angelic form sooner, rather than holding it in reserve, perhaps if she had stayed closer to Adam and the altar instead of letting herself be drawn away.  There was no real way to tell.  Hindsight was a cruel mistress.

    Still, she could not let herself be disheartened, she had survived, and so had her charge, and Hadriel was now here to correct the consequences of her failure.  It was far from ideal, but it was better than a complete loss.  She could learn from this, learn to do better in the future.  Nodding her head in resolution she looked back up at the angel.

    ¡°I shall strive to do better!¡±

    Hadriel nodded in return before her gaze turned towards the farmhouse.

    ¡°So, he is within?¡±

    ¡°Yes.  He sleeps in some sort of chrysalis.¡±

    At Joan¡¯s response, the angel¡¯s eyebrows rose in visible surprise.

    ¡°Show me.¡±

    The reborn saint immediately led the crimson-winged woman to the spot where her charge¡¯s cocooned form rested.  Again, the angel did not attempt to hide her surprise when she saw the large lump of hardened flesh, it''s colouring the shade of dried blood.  In truth Joan could sympathize, the chrysalis was quite the sight, especially since it seemed to have grown in size since she¡¯d first placed it there.  When first laid down it had been about the size of a sleeping bag with someone in it.  Now it had more than doubled in mass, but was still keeping the same general shape.

    Frowning Hadriel slowly walked around the large cocoon, trying to view it from all angles.  Her swords were gone, stored in her bracelets to leave her hands free.  After she completed her circuit, she reached out with one hand and gently rapped her knuckles against the hard surface of the chrysalis.  The sound that came back was as though she¡¯d knocked on the side of a large melon, though the note was lower.  Shaking her head, she stepped back until she stood beside Joan once more.

    ¡°Strange, very strange.  I have some idea of what has happened, but I have never seen it occur like this.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± She assured the reborn soul, not taking her eyes off the cocoon. ¡°Other mortals of mixed blood have gone into similar states during the Awakening of their power.  It is normally done as a means to allow their bodies to alter themselves to adapt to the new powers or properties they might develop.¡±

    ¡°I see, such as elementals or some of the fey.¡± Joan nodded as she indicated the chrysalis. ¡°But when that happens, they take on the aspect of the element that they are becoming, I believe.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, that is correct,¡± The words were kind, but they were spoken in the tone of a teacher praising a student that was not normally very bright.  Once again, the French saint ignored the twinge of irritation within her and simply continued to listen. ¡°However, in the case of your charge, his body has entered this state to preserve itself rather than transform further.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The ritual that was interrupted provided his body with all the resources it needed in order to fuel a swift transformation, but with the inclusion of traces of demonic power the process has become tainted.  In addition, the various energies that he did take in were never harmonized by the last portions of the ritual.  As a result, the forces within him are not cooperating, but are instead all but at war with each other.  The cocoon is a means of preservation.  In this state, he can survive such potent energies running wild within him.  Left alone he will eventually be able to tame the forces inside him, bringing them into the correct configuration to let him ascend, but it will take a great deal of time.¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°How long?¡±

    ¡°Decades at least, possibly centuries at worst.¡±

    ¡®Decades¡¯?  ¡®Centuries¡¯?  Joan was aghast! Had she truly failed so catastrophically?!

    ¡°Fortunately, it is relatively easy to correct.¡±

    Those words were like the sun emerging from behind a dark cloud, the knowledge that she had not completely failed a balm to her soul.

    ¡°The resources are all there, all they require is a catalyst to help them fall into place.  Once the demonic taint has been dealt with there will no longer be any impediment to the process of his ascension.  Indeed, all he requires is an infusion of additional heavenly energies in order to begin the transformation.¡±

    The reborn soul blinked at that.  Was that really all that was needed?  Such would have been within her capabilities when she was in her Angelic form.  Granted, she might not be on par with any of the greater angels, but she guessed herself to be on a level comparable to the angel before her.  Had she been aware of the need for such an infusion then she was certain she could have performed the task herself!

    Or . . . was that her pride leading her astray?

    She had not been aware.  Indeed, she would not have been able to discern what it was that she was sensing from within the cocoon.  True, her supernatural senses had been able to discern the chaotic energies seething within, but she¡¯d had no way to interpret them, she might as well have been trying to read a foreign language.

    ¡°How soon can you apply the energies that Adam requires?¡±

    The angel turned to look at her, her eyes measuring, though just what they were measuring the resurrected saint was unsure.

    ¡°It would be best to wait for the same hour as when you conducted the ritual to Awaken him.  The closer he is to the original conditions the simpler a matter it will be for him to absorb ambient energies to fuel his change.¡±

    ¡°Would he need such power?¡±

    ¡°Need?  No, the strength gathered by your ritual was sufficient when combined with the strength that slept within him.  Every bit will help though, will grant him additional strength from the beginning, rather than needing him to build it up himself.¡±

    Joan nodded, reassured by what was said.

    ¡°Then we shall wait.  Can I offer you some tea or refreshments?¡±

    The question was more of an automatic reflex.  Hadriel had just arrived from a journey, therefore it was only polite for her to offer some sort of food or drink, if only to let her refresh herself.  However, in response, the angel turned a look upon her as though she had just offered to allow her to bathe in raw sewage.

    ¡°I . . . shall not be partaking of the sin of gluttony,¡± the angel said, her tone every bit as proud as a queen declining the food of the ignorant barbarians that thought the disgusting parts of an animal were the best. ¡°I do not need the food and drink of mortals, I shall continue without.¡±

    Ah, the French maiden wanted to hit herself over the head for such a foolish mistake!  Hadriel was an angel of Heaven, of course, she would feel none of the needs of hunger or thirst.  Indulging in the pleasures of drink and food was one of the paths that had led the first Fallen to lose their Grace, so naturally she would seek to avoid a path that might lead to such corruption.

    ¡°My apologies honoured Hadriel.  No offence was intended.¡±

    Though her expression was still slightly disgruntled the angel nodded to her.

    ¡°I understand, it was a simple mistake due to you not having interacted with angels upon this plane.  Still, be sure not to forget this lesson, other angels would take far greater offence at such an offer than myself, and some of them lack restraint.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    Not mortal, not human, Joan reminded herself of the twin facts as she looked up at the winged beauty who was still hovering more than a foot off the ground.  Angels and demons might take on human-like appearances when they appear on the mortal plane, but it must always be remembered that even though they looked similar they were fundamentally different.  It wasn¡¯t a vast difference, angels and mortals were similar in more ways than they were different, but those few differences were far more significant.

    Angels knew, knew all the way down to their core, why they existed, what was meant for them, and what they were supposed to do.  That certainty, that metal hard conviction at their centre was so different from the uncertainties of mortals, who stumbled through life trying to find meaning and purpose to their existence.  Mortals had free will, while angels possessed a more limited agency.

    Joan would have to be more careful in the future.  Angels were warriors of light, defenders of the throne of the Highest, soldiers in the defence of all that was good from the forces of malice and bedlam that sought to drown the universe in chaos and blood.  None of that meant that they had to be ¡®nice¡¯.

    Joan hadn¡¯t had contact with the upper echelons of the angelic hosts while she had been in Heaven, not aside from brief glimpses during the times she had been granted a fleeting audience with the Lord.  Her instruction had been handled by angels such as Hadriel, soldiers in the army of the Heavens, powerful angels, but still mainly of the celestial rank and file.  The archangels and the seraphim, she had only seen brief glimpses of them, but doing so had been like staring into the heart of a sun.

    No, she was happy to simply be dealing with a fellow soldier like the angel before her.  She, at least, was something that the resurrected soul could understand.

    ¡°Show me the site of the attack that interrupted the ritual.¡± The angel ordered, gesturing for Joan to show her. ¡°I would know more of the forces that interfered in the boy¡¯s awakening.¡±

    Boy?  Even as the Maid of Orleans, led the angel to the site of the battle she could not help but frown slightly at her choice of words.  Adam was no warrior, he was inexperienced and somewhat unworldly, but to call him a boy was underserved.  A boy would not have been able to endure the punishing training that she had forced upon him there last few days.  A boy would not have been able to resist the demon host attempting to kidnap him during the ritual.  To call him such was . . . dismissive of what he had done.

    Still, she didn¡¯t voice her words.  Instead, she wordlessly led the angel to the burnt and blasted remains of the ritual site.

    Seeing it in the light of the sun brought back to her how intense the end of the short battle had been.  Here and there she could see the gouges in the ground where her own blast of light had torn into it, but by and large, the aftermath of her efforts was eclipsed by the massive burnt crater that took up the site where she had tried to awaken Adam.  Of the large trunks and makeshift altar that she had used very little was left.  What tree trunks had not been cast aside like sticks before a gale had instead been reduced to ash and charcoal.  The ground itself was seared black stones melted and sand fused into glass.  The ruined remnants of the golem stood as a mute testimony to the forces that had been unleashed, a construct able to match her while she wielded the form of an angel, reduced to a melted husk.

    She had not had much of an opportunity to evaluate the remains of her enemy, her focus having been upon protecting Adam, but now she took the time to look at it.  The golem still stood; its end having come while it was posed as though pushing against an invisible wind.  The stance was a stable one, one that combined with the construct''s great size to let it keep its balance, even after it ceased to be animated.

    A movement to the side drew her attention away from the melted hulk, and she turned to see Hadriel drawing the point of one of her swords through the ash that covered the ground.

    ¡°The foes that you fought here, they were demonic, were they not?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Joan confirmed. ¡°Demon hosts of some nature, though their bodies did not have the feeling of mortality to them.  When we battled, I was able to extinguish the demonic forces within them easily enough, but the bodies left behind had no remnants of souls within them.  After the death of the demonic energy, they were simply empty vessels.¡±

    Despite still hovering in the air Hadriel knelt upon nothing to reach down and draw her fingers through the ash and dirt beneath her.  Joan watched in surprise as the angel sniffed the mixture of soil and ash that clung to her fingertips, then even ran them across her tongue to taste them.  The next moment her beautiful face contorted in disgust and she spat to the side, followed by a brief flash of light from her fingers as the dirt was scoured away.

    ¡°False life, the taint lingers even after their destruction,¡± she declared. ¡°The foes you faced, they were not some foolish mortals that sold their souls and were consumed from within.  They were the result of mortals attempting to emulate the Father¡¯s work through the use of their crude magicks.  Providing such a vessel, a soulless one, would mean they would not need to fight for control of it with the original owner.  Nor would they need to waste their strength expelling such a soul.  They would be able to devote their full strength to their task immediately.¡±

    She paused again, this time tilting her head to the side and inhaling deeply.

    ¡°But . . . how many of these foes did you cut down?¡±

    The resurrected soul tried to think back.  In all honesty, she wasn¡¯t too sure.  The battle had been hectic, a wild chaos of her trying to strike as many down as she could while protecting Adam, and them trying to swarm past her while others of their number kept her engaged.  Then she had called upon the power of her angelic form and faced the golem.  More of the demon hosts had been incinerated in the periphery of the battle than they had in direct combat with her, and even Adam had managed to kill at least one of his attackers.  Still, she had a rough guess.

    ¡°There were several dozen, but I do not believe there could have been more than two hundred.  At a rough guess I would say I cut down more than a hundred, the rest were consumed in the explosion that claimed the golem.¡±

    ¡°You are certain, there were at least that many?¡±

    Uncertain of why the angel would be so insistent on that fact Joan simply nodded.  She was certain of her answer, of that there was no doubt.

    ¡°I see,¡± the words were spoken more to herself than to Joan, but they were clear enough to hear.  ¡°Then that must mean . . .¡±

    ¡°Is there something of importance, honoured Hadriel?¡±

    She wasn¡¯t sure if it was her place to ask such questions, but her curiosity got the better of her.  Besides, anything that she could learn about the foes she had faced might aid her in the future, so such queries were within the scope of her duty.  For her part, the angel frowned at her ever so slightly but then answered.

    ¡°There is demonic residue in the air, as would be expected in the aftermath of such a battle.  However, the residue here isn¡¯t as concentrated as it should be, not for the number of demons you spoke of.¡±

    The resurrected soul¡¯s face blanched as she heard that.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, I would not lie on this matter!  The number of foes I faced is as I said!¡±

    ¡°There is no doubt of your honesty,¡± the heavenly soldier assured her, one hand waving off her concerns. ¡°But it is strange, the demonic power that remains does not feel . . . malicious enough.¡±

    She paused, and Joan¡¯s confusion must have been clear on her face.  Demonic power that didn¡¯t feel malicious?  Wasn¡¯t that a contradiction of terms?  Demons were beings either born or tainted by the powers of Hell, beings to whom cruelty and malice were as much a part of them as the blood in their veins.

    ¡°It is unquestionably the power of Hell,¡± Hadriel continued, ¡°But there is no intent behind it, no drive, no cruelty.  It is as evil as natural fire would be, something dangerous but not malicious.¡±

    ¡°But . . . but they were hostile, my lady!  They sought to kill me and abduct Adam, and when that grew too difficult, they followed the orders to try to slay him!¡±

    Joan wasn¡¯t entirely sure why she was protesting, but she felt a certain need to defend the first battle that she had undertaken on the mortal plane since her resurrection.

    ¡°They were weapons, not enemies,¡± Hadriel spoke the words with certainty, waving her hand at the ruined site before them. ¡°Some mortal created their bodies and then used demonic energy to animate the empty husks.  The energy within them served as a false soul and mind allowing them to live and act, but it had no intelligence of its own.  The creatures you fought were constructs of mortal magic.¡±

    So, that would imply that the mortal that commanded the attack upon her ritual was . . . what?  Powerful enough to create artificial bodies but not strong enough to bind true demons to their will?  Joan had no idea as to what that might imply since her own education in the mystical arts had been limited to learning how to use the gifts she had been given.  She did know that the creation of life, no matter how simple, was a complex and potent art, but that was the extent of her knowledge.  As for demons, she had focused upon learning how to fight them, not how they might be summoned and bound, something that in hindsight might have been a mistake.

    There was also that portal they had come through, the one that had disappeared after the explosion.  What level of power did that speak to?  For that matter, was it possible to trace it back to its origin?

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, the forces that attacked us came through a portal in space, could it be tracked back to the source?¡±

    ¡°Where did it manifest?¡±

    Quickly Joan showed the angel where the portal had sprung into being, enough of the debris from the ritual remaining to make the task simple enough.  Hadriel spread her wings, the crimson feathers glowing softly as she focused her attention on the spot, but after a few moments the glow died away and she shook her head.

    ¡°No.  The idea was good, but the one that created this portal has been careful and cunning.  I can trace some of the energies, but they run through half a dozen different realms, from what I can see.  All the while fragmenting as they do so.  One of my brethren more skilled in the use of magic than I might have been able to track the thread, but it is beyond my abilities.  However, that is not of such import at this time.¡±

    As she spoke the angel waved at the remains of the golem, her eyes alighting on it with an expression of both wonder and . . . sadness?

    ¡°I know of this one, it was forged more than a thousand years before a star shone over Bethlehem.  I know of the art and craft that was used in its creation; I know of the power that it was imbued with.  It is . . . tragic to see it reduced to this state by the machinations of one that traffics with demons.¡±

    ¡°It is really so old?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, a lock of Sampson¡¯s hair was burnt to ash and used in its creation, that was one of the reasons its strength is on par with that of powerful divine beings.¡±

    That startled Joan.  She had known that the golem had been a formidable foe, but now she felt slightly better about the trouble it had given her.  In hindsight, it made sense, given how powerful her transformation made her.  No simple creation of ancient mystics should be able to break her wing as the great hulk of stone and metal had, not without some sort of divine power of its own.

    ¡°Such a waste,¡± She agreed, saddened that it had been her enemy rather than an ally. ¡°It would have been a great asset to have upon our side, a guardian that never needed to eat, sleep or even rest, that would be useful.¡±

    Hadriel didn¡¯t immediately agree, rather she tilted her head slightly while looking at the French saint.

    ¡°I am sure that to a mortal such issues are of concern, but to an angel food, drink and sleep are not causes for worry since they have no meaning to us.  The needs that you mortals endure are unknown to us, weaknesses of the flesh we do not share.¡±

    Very well, Joan did not wish to think harshly of the angel that had been sent to aid her, but she was certain she was beginning to detect a certain tone to Hadriel¡¯s comments.  They weren¡¯t deliberately high-handed, but there was a definite undertone of . . . condescension?  Superiority?  On a purely intellectual level, she could understand it, somewhat.  Angels were beings designed by the Almighty to act as His agents and soldiers, they were designed on a divine level and could exist upon a scale normally reserved only for the gods.  Hadriel was completely correct in that they suffered from none of the frailties of mortality, but that didn¡¯t mean that angels were flawless existences, the vast numbers that had Fallen were proof of this.  This . . . confidence in her superiority wasn¡¯t directly offensive, she wasn¡¯t forceful enough for that, but it seemed to colour her every word.

    Joan shook her head, honestly, she couldn¡¯t even properly explain it in her own head.  She had not rested since the attack, and regardless of her gifts, she could only go on for so long before she began to flag.  It was almost amusing, that the angel was commenting on mortal weakness just as said weakness was catching up with the resurrected soul.  Was that why the resurrected saint found it irksome?

    At that thought Joan came to a decision.  Clearly, she was far more tired than she was admitting.  Hadriel was willing to aid, so Joan should take advantage of the aid that was being offered, regardless of the condescending tone that might be attached.

    ¡°But they are weaknesses that I possess, honoured Hadriel.  So, might I entrust the duty of guarding our charge to you while I recuperate?  Hopefully, I shall not be long, and my full strength shall be restored well before you are ready to aid Adam in his awakening.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the words were spoken with magnanimity, those of an adult offering to help a child. ¡°Take what time you need to recover; I shall remain vigilant throughout.¡±

    Still unwittingly condescending.  Well, in her mortal life, she had dealt with worse, and the angel of the High Heavens had more justified reasons to feel above her than the army commanders she¡¯d had to endure in the past.

    It did not matter, for now, the priority was to get some food and water in her belly, then rest for a short time, possibly even taking some time to wash herself.  Once that was done, she¡¯d be back to her best, and something told her that she didn¡¯t want to be lacking in energy when Adam completed his Awakening.

 Chapter 14: Awakening: Part One

    Chapter 14: Awakening

    I wasn¡¯t dreaming, I was sure of that, but at the same time, I somehow knew I wasn¡¯t awake.

    Have you ever had one of those moments in the middle of the night where you¡¯re dreaming and you suddenly just KNOW that you¡¯re in bed and asleep?  In that state, you can try to do something, like get out of bed, or just sit up, but it¡¯s like you end up dreaming about doing it rather than actually doing it.  It¡¯s as though the signals in your brain get a bit crossed due to your sleep-addled state, and you end up falling back into slumber when you mean to wake up, then as soon as you start to sleep properly you end up feeling awake.

    It was sort of like that.  I was aware that I was asleep, but my thoughts drifted along far too chaotically for me to be able to form any sort of coherent thoughts.  Instead, I seemed to drift from one thought to the next, with no control, just aimless wandering.

    I wasn¡¯t quite sure how long I stayed like that.  Keeping track of time was a futile effort, my only certainty of the passage of time was the changes I felt.

    It started when I became aware of something other than the darkness of my oblivion.

    I saw . . . well, I don¡¯t think ¡®saw¡¯ was the right word.  Perceived was closer to the mark.  It was like an awareness of concepts and truths without the necessity for interpretation by the senses.  I was aware of so much more than I could have gleaned with mere organs such as eyes, skin or eardrums.  I was aware of things that I had no name for.  I was aware of so much, and I was aware of my awareness.

    What I perceived was not the world as I knew it.  What I was aware of was nothingness, a state of being that was the opposite of existence.  Nothingness was all there was, and I felt my new awareness twist and turn as it tried to grasp it.  How can you see, or even perceive, something when there is nothing there to see?  If my mind hadn¡¯t been in such a strangely augmented state, just experiencing that alone might have been enough to break it.

    Time didn¡¯t pass as my awareness hung in that incomprehensible emptiness.  How could it?  Without the existence of anything the very concepts of space or even time were irrelevant.  An eternity could pass in an instant, or an instant in an eternity.  Then something changed, my expanded understanding making me aware of it as a new perspective slammed into me.  The nothingness seemed to unfold as dimensions that had not previously existed forced themselves upon the infinite emptiness, driving the nothingness back.

    Then, without warning, the nothingness was gone, and in its place, there was darkness, a vast endless sweeping void of absolute darkness that had replaced the absence of anything that had previously seemed to choke all that my expanded senses could grasp.  The darkness though . . . it wasn¡¯t like the emptiness before.  That nothingness, that absolute absence of anything, had been stagnant.  It was nothing, it would always be nothing, and it could never be anything other than nothing.  The blackness, the new void that had spread out, it was different.  It seethed with possibilities, potential surging through it like impossibly vast undercurrents in the ocean.  It was all, and it was nothing, but it was a living nothing, not the dead emptiness of silenced eternity, a nothingness that contained everything.

    I wasn¡¯t aware of the passage of time, as time had not yet formed.  Instead, I was aware of the rise and fall of possibilities within the great ocean of chaos.  Wild turmoil reigned, causality, reason, any sort of structure or order unborn.  For what could have been an instant, or another eternity all existence was pure and untainted chaos.

    Then it all changed as the wild black abyss of possibility unfolded once more.  This time it was not to another change, but to the manifestation of a will.  A will so vast and implacable that the immeasurable chaos bent away from it as a blade of grass would before the hurricane.

    And that will imposed itself upon the chaos, its force utterly irresistible, and a command was given.  It wasn¡¯t in anything as crude as language or even sound, it was a massive imperative that my expanded consciousness could only barely comprehend.

    It was ¡®VOID CEASE BE!¡¯  It was ¡®ILLUMINATION EXALTATION CREATION!¡¯  It was ¡®NOW BE NOT!¡¯  It was ¡®RADIANCE CASCADE BECOME!¡¯  It meant all of these things and yet none of them at the same time.  It was a huge desire that contained a vast number of complex concepts interwoven together in a manner that no human language could ever hope to even approach in complexity or subtlety.  It was the desire for creation, for what was to change, for something new to come forth, for something old to be renewed.

    I suppose that if you were to very, very loosely translate it then it might mean ¡®Let there be light.¡¯

    And light there was, so much so that it would have been blinding had I been witnessing this with merely my sight.  There was so much light that it seemed as though the void would barely be able to contain it.  But the light was only a side effect of what was really going on.

    Time, space, matter, energy, all of them were being born from the void in an enormous cacophony of creation of such magnitude that it felt as though this new reality was going to tear itself apart.  The black abyss of the darkness screamed in a wail that transcended the newly forming planes of existence, but it was no scream of pain or torture if such concepts could be applied to an event infinitely more primal than an earthquake or a tidal wave.  This was the roar of origin, of creation, of beginnings, the birth cry of existence.

    And all through this I could also perceive the form of the vast will that had set it all into motion.  The will stood with the emerging light at its back, and as the radiance blazed forth I could see the form of the will as the brightness of a billion suns seemed to outline it.

    The form I saw was human-like in shape.  It had the limbs and form of a human, the proportions and posture of one, but beyond that, I found the details hard to grasp.  There was no masculinity or femininity to its form. I couldn¡¯t even make out the features of its face through the light that blazed about them.  This was good for me though, as I had the impression of both beauty and majesty that made me oddly glad that I could not see them.

    Was it a ¡®he¡¯ . . . ?  Despite the strange neutrality of the being it felt like a ¡®he¡¯ to me, some sense of masculinity clinging to it even though there were absolutely no features that should have prompted such a feeling.  Yet, at the same time, that sense felt . . . hollow, false, as though it didn¡¯t truly belong.

    It took me a moment to understand what made me feel that way.  It suddenly clicked into place as the figure moved.  It felt as though I was only seeing part of it, as though there was more just beyond my range of perception, so much more that I couldn¡¯t even begin to grasp it.  The sense of masculinity . . . it was a reflection, a shadow cast upon this figure by me, the one observing it.  To me, it seemed to be male because I was male.  And I was certain that a woman seeing this sight would perceive it as female.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    It was more of a matter of my own limitations rather than the titanic being before me.  Perhaps I was only able to comprehend it by colouring its existence with concepts my mind could handle.

    Then the being completed his motion, and all other thoughts fled from me.

    The sheer vast size of the being was difficult to put into words, but as the great light seemed to stabilize and steady into a constant shine rather than a burning burst, it grew easier to have some frame of reference to work with.  The light that had poured into the abyss, the light that now swirled about itself was vast, bright, the illumination of every sun that could be, would be or never were.  And the gargantuan figure held it in his left hand, his fingers half clenched and the light swirling around them.

    His right hand was extended away from him, out into the remaining darkness.  The light had been separated from the dark, and now the darkness, the chaos that came before creation, was being . . . reforged, remade.  Its nature remained the same, but there was a structure to it now, a loose framework of order that made it stronger yet did not tame its wild nature.  The alteration to its essence was almost paradoxical, yet it was necessary for the universe that I saw coming into existence.

    I could see the foundations of the universe being laid down, the laws that governed the forms and interactions of matter and energy, the nature of the framework that created sequence and causality.  Little by little the cosmos emerged from the seething cauldron of light and darkness, chaos and order.

    But it was still incomplete.  I could sense that as clearly as I could sense what had taken place already.  The foundations were laid, the framework prepared, but the true construction, the formalization of creation, was not yet begun.

    Even as the process continued around me, I turned my attention back to the great architect, to the one that was directing this birth of something from nothing.

    I could feel my senses expanding once more as I focused on the vast human-shaped silhouette.

    He had form and shape, but whatever he was composed of, it was not the matter and energy that he was pouring into the infant universe.  He was something else, something more, but even as I looked at him, I couldn¡¯t understand him.  It was just too much, too big, too deep, too complex.  He stood there, his feet supported by nothing, and no universal force acting upon him.  With one hand he pulled all that was into what had been nothing, and with the other, he shaped it into what could be.

    Then his right hand flexed slightly, and I could feel the last of the universe slide into place.  I can¡¯t think of how to describe it, but a woefully inadequate analogy might have been as a jigsaw.  Imagine if someone solved a jigsaw, but didn¡¯t connect all the pieces, just left them in more or less the right position, slightly on top of each other, some gaps here, some overlap there.  You could see the completed picture, but it was muddled, imperfect, and more of an impression that a proper image.  Then the last piece was placed, and suddenly all the other pieces snapped into position, clicking together to form a perfect picture.  And that didn¡¯t even begin to describe the complexity and intricacy of what I was witnessing.

    And yet despite the sheer scale of what had been created, despite the myriad of levels and dimensions that the creation had been constructed upon, it didn¡¯t change the simple flaw that was an intrinsic part of all that this grand effort had created.

    It was unmoving.

    That was, again, the best word that I could think of, but at the same time, I knew it was inaccurate.  Atoms moved, energy raced from one spot or state to another, and the fledgling matter of creation spun through space as the newly imposed rule of gravity affected it.  There was movement, but there was no . . . freedom, no life.  What I was looking at was a vast model of impossible scope and complexity, but it was as lifeless as a toy representation of the solar system that children would play with.  It could spin and it could move, but that was it, it was tied to metaphorical rails and unable to be more.

    Then the figure moved once more and . . . I felt my mind draw back at what I was witnessing.

    It was as though the figure was bleeding out.  Essence flowed from it out into the infant cosmos, and I saw it grant vigour and life.  Where the essence spread, the potential that had been a part of the darkness before the light quickened into motion.  Chance, luck, fortune, whatever you want to call it, the random element of existence that made the universe more than simply a supremely complex machine, that was what was coming into being.  The vast figure, the creator of this creation, he¡¯d opened up his metaphysical veins to bleed power and animation into his fresh creation.

    Out and out the flow continued, spreading all through the new creation until it seemed to eclipse even the vast form of its creator.  And despite the continual flow of power, the figure seemed undiminished.

    It was all so hard to take in.  For all his overwhelming stature and power there should be a limit to what he possessed, but it seemed as though it was infinite.  Yet my own expanded senses were telling me that that couldn¡¯t be, that even a being of such vast scope had to follow certain rules.  It was paradoxical, and I felt an all-consuming need to understand.

    I turned all of the strange and unfamiliar senses my experience was granting me upon the vast figure of the creator.  I tried to perceive further, to understand what was happening, to learn how it was all being done.

    There was something there, something that I couldn¡¯t quite reach with my senses.  It was . . . behind/above/within/outside/through the figure I was seeing.  I couldn¡¯t put a direction on it, not when it seemed to be operating in more dimensions than I could possibly understand, but I kept trying to push through just a bit more, just a bit harder . . .

    And then I managed to push through.

    I perceived what lay beyond, and for a moment even as expanded as my mind was in this state, I felt the moorings of my very sanity creaking under the pressure of what I was grasping.

    It was . . . it was like some beautifully cut gemstone, that was the first thing that came to mind.  The figure before me, the being that had forged the cosmos from nothing with the force of his will and who had given it life with the potency of his essence, that vast titanic figure whose stature was comparable to the very universe he had created, he was just a single facet of the jewel.  This was the facet in this place, this existence, but it was just a part of something else.  What I had taken to be the entirety of the being was only a fingertip, a tiny extrusion into this place where there had been nothing.

    Vast, huge, endless, infinite, I thought I had some grasp upon such concepts after seeing the creation of existence, but this . . . this was too much.  It was too huge, too massive to get my mind around.  All I could do was retreat into a stupor as the mere memory of that immensity sat upon my mind.  So huge, so vast, so much.

    About me the universe spun into being, full being, the stars burning, the earliest planets forming, the vast clouds of dust that would condense into younger stars spinning through the void between the newly born suns.  This was only the beginning, but I knew that the rest was not for me to see.  It was a bone-deep certainty that sprang up in me just as my senses began to fade into the darkness of sleep.  I wanted to stay, I wanted to witness more, the dawning of life, the birth of the earliest gods and angels, the division of the mortal and immortal, there was so much I wanted to see, so much I wanted to understand!

    But I was tired now, so very, very tired.  What I had seen was enough to break me, but the same power that had let me see it at all had protected my sanity.  However that had not come without a price.  Though I could not perceive my body I still felt more bone weary than I ever had in my life.  I felt slumber reach up with soft and gentle arms to pull me inexorably down into the darkness of dreams and sleep, and I was just too tired to fight it.

    The last thing I perceived before my mind drifted off was that vast titanic figure.

    Had it been looking at me?

 Chapter 14: Awakening: Part Two

    ¡°Yes, this will do.¡±

    At Hadriel¡¯s words, Joan carefully set down the sofa and the cocoon upon it.  Truthfully, she didn¡¯t need to move the sofa, but the French saint had been hesitant to manhandle the chrysalis of her charge.  The cocoon might be a semi-divine construct able to shrug off modern weapons, but the thought manhandling it like luggage felt irreverent.

    The area the warrior angel had chosen was situated about halfway between the building and the nearby wood.  Above them, it was nearly dusk, the first stars were just appearing.  It was now more or less the same time that Joan had tried to conduct her own ritual to Awaken Adam.  Hopefully, this one would prove to be more fortunate in its execution.

    Once the saint had set it down Hadriel simply laid both her palms upon the chrysalis and closed her eyes.  For a moment nothing happened, and Joan considered asking her if that was all, then a musical note began to echo out.

    The sound was as clear as the most finely crafted bell one could imagine, hanging in the air with a sort of perfection that no mortal instrument could have possibly duplicated.  Joan knew this, or at least something similar.  It was the sound of Hadriel¡¯s true name, the one given to her by her creator, rather than the one used by mortals to identify her.

    To every angel, there was a note, a pitch, a tone that they and only they could produce, and when the High Heavens sang the Music of the Spheres it was these notes that created the music.  The Heavens needed no instruments, no voices, no music halls, the music that only the realm of angels could produce was the essence of its very inhabitants, the Celestial Choir needing nothing but their true names to create the music that left even the gods in awe.

    Slowly, the perfect note faded away, and Hadriel floated backwards, away from the chrysalis.  As she did so her movements were lethargic, everything about her from the set of her shoulders to the slight droop of her wings suggested exhaustion.

    ¡°Is it done?¡±

    At Joan¡¯s question, the angel slowly turned to face her, her eyes drooping slightly, but still burning with an intensity that shone through her fatigue.

    ¡°Y-yes.  It was harder than I expected, the amount of power needed was enormous, but I can feel the reaction occurring within his cocoon.  Soon his Awakening will be complete.¡±

    ¡°Are you well, honoured Hadriel?¡± the resurrected soul asked. ¡°Your efforts seem to have left you drained; will you be able to recover soon?¡±

    ¡°It is no great concern,¡± the red-winged angel assured her. ¡°The drain upon my energy merely took me by surprise due to its intensity.  With a few minutes, I shall be much recovered. I will need only a few hours to regain my full strength.¡±

    As she spoke Joan¡¯s attention was drawn to the cocoon behind her as it began to give off light.  It started as a soft glow along the ¡®seams¡¯ of the chrysalis, but those thin lines quickly grew brighter.  At the same time, the misshapen panels that had once been Adam¡¯s skin began to take on a shine of their own.  There seemed to be no set colour to the glow, as it shifted constantly, different spots being different colours in a dancing chaos similar to the aurora borealis.  As the pair of Heavenly agents watched, the light began to mount brighter and brighter.  As the light grew brighter the speed the shifting colours danced to also grew, until the brightness reached its zenith.  The entirety of the cocoon shone in a brilliantly coruscating dance that was at once beautiful and maddening to see.

    It only lasted for a short time though because, as both the intensity of the light and the speed of the dance reached a crescendo, they froze as though time had stopped!

    The sudden change was jarring.  She had been tracking the dance as it had accelerated, and the abrupt transition from motion to a dead stop caught her so much by surprise that her vision swam for a moment.  As she watched the multicoloured lights condensed into a single point above where she guessed Adam¡¯s heart to be within the chrysalis.  In short order, the entire display had collapsed to a singular point no larger than the fingernail on her thumb.  For a moment it just hovered there, giving her the chance to appreciate the perfection of its colour, a shade that was every hue and yet none, and then it exploded!

    There was no force to the explosion, no sound, no heat.  All that happened was a bright burst of light, as what must have been thousands of sparks, exploded from where the single point had been. The lights went flying everywhere about the field, only to then pause in place, hovering in mid-air and lighting up the night.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, is this supposed to be happening?¡±

    ¡°I . . . I am uncertain,¡± the admission came as both a surprise and a shock since this was the first time that the angel had shown anything other than total confidence. ¡°The process is continuing, and I cannot feel any disharmonies in the energies that are being released, but this is so much . . . it should not-¡±

    Anything else the crimson-winged agent of Heaven might have been about to say was cut off as the thousands of tiny lights about them began to move once more.  About them, the light of the day was fading as the sun fell below the horizon, but the multitude of firefly-like lights served to provide more than enough illumination as they moved about.  This time though there seemed to be a purpose to their motion, not the blind burst of earlier.

    Joan watched in fascination as they flowed in four different directions, coming together in clusters as they buzzed about like a swarm of bees coming together.  As they drew closer their individual light grew brighter and brighter until it became painful to look at them.  The resurrected soul was forced to look away, but as she did so she heard a sound that was . . . something she had never heard before.  The only way that she could think to describe it was to say that it was the opposite of hearing crystal shatter.  There was something almost musical about it, something joyous!  It was still ringing in her ears when she looked back to see that the blinding radiance had abated, leaving a wondrous sight to behold.

    ¡°Unbelievable!¡±

    The hushed word was uttered by the angel beside her, the tone almost reverent.  Joan could understand why the soldier of the High Heavens was so awestruck, the sight before them had robbed the saint of any words at all.

    The multitude of lights was gone now, and in their place were four enormous orbs that hovered six feet above the ground and seemed to be slowly orbiting the cocoon.  Each orb was massive, easily large enough for someone to walk into.  Each of them was different, and each of them radiated power in a way that even a blind man would have been able to see.

    ¡°That one . . . that one has the feeling of Lady Bath Kol!¡±

    Hadriel didn¡¯t seem to be aware that she was speaking out loud as she reached out to the nearest of the spheres, but Joan could hear her clearly.  In truth, she completely agreed with the angel¡¯s assessment, even though she had never met the Voice of God, and so could not identify her presence.  However, the orb left little doubt as to the nature of the power it held.

    The sphere was coloured in a mixture of white and blue, the hues evoking the image of a blue summer sky threaded with white clouds.  Light shone from the globe, a strong warm light such as one might find on a midsummer day when the sun shone down from above, but a breeze kept the air from being oppressive.  Still, it was not simply the appearance of the sphere that drew the angel, it was the unfettered Heavenly power that radiated from it like heat from a furnace.

    What was even more breathtaking wasn¡¯t the scale of the power, but rather its sheer purity.  This was the very essence of the High Heavens, unmarred by . . . anything.  Even when Joan had been in Heaven, she had seen angels marred and marked.  They were small blemishes, the simple results of the natural anger and frustrations that even the soldier of Heaven had to deal with as part of their lives.  Those that had chosen to be reborn as mortals for a lifetime were also marked, though not with sins or stains.  Instead, they seemed to be weathered, toned by that life in a way akin to a farmer being tanned by working in the sun.  These changes carried over to the power that the angels wielded, meaning it was every bit as hued as the angels that it came from.

    But this, the energy in the sphere, it was completely pure, untouched by any sort of taint.

    The French saint could only stare in wonder, her heart bursting with pride for her charge. She had known that he was a descendant of Bath Kol, but she had underestimated the power he would inherit with his Awakening!  This would . . .

    Joan¡¯s thoughts ground to a halt as the great sphere of heavenly might drifted past her, only to be replaced by another.

    . . . Another?  Yes, she had all but forgotten about the others.

    Staring at the large sphere that was now closest to her Joan tried to calm her nerves as she studied it.  This globe was not a container of the power of the Heavens, of that there was no doubt.  Rather than the sense of sun and sky that had matched the colours of the first sphere, this was an ever-shifting mass of red, orange and yellow.  It could easily have been mistaken for flames save for the fact that the orb did not burn.  No heat came off it, no flames flickered within it, instead, there was simply a sense of . . . vitality!

    That was the only way that the resurrected soul could think to describe it, the huge globe seemed to be filled with pure life energy, the vital force of life that empowered all living beings from the humblest worm to the mightiest god.  Normally such energies were liquid, flowing through the body like invisible blood, but what she saw before her practically crackled with pent-up force!

    There was power there, enormous power, the sort that could allow a demigod to crush monsters with their bare hands.  But what concerned Joan was that she could not recognize the origin of that strength, she only knew that it was neither heavenly nor infernal.

    Her gaze moved to the next sphere, and she found it to be no less surprising.  It differed from the first two in that it seemed to be more solid, more material.  Where the other two were energy in one form or another, this globe was composed of substance. The material was not solidly in place, but instead seemed to be constantly altering and shifting about.  As Joan watched the bricks of dark stone that made up its surface split apart as short spikes of crystal emerged, then spread to cover it.  Then rods of metal extended from the crystal, then there were more rods growing from the first ones in an almost organic manner.  Spreading, forming constructions until once again the orb was covered, this time in a network of metal that was incredibly complex. Then the metal began to melt, heating up until it was molten, only to solidify and have wooden structures begin to spring up upon it.

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    Joan watched in fascination, only to realize that despite the orb constantly building outwards it never seemed to grow larger.  Realizing this she stepped back, trying to look at the whole thing at once, only then realizing what was happening.  It was a cycle, a beautiful, impossible cycle with the old layers constantly sinking back into the sphere, even as new layers were being built up.

    Unlike the others it didn¡¯t radiate power, instead, it felt solid, firm in a way the other two lacked, a bedrock upon which anything could be built.

    ¡°Wha . . . what is that?!¡±

    The resurrected soul¡¯s attention was pulled away from the constantly shifting sphere to look over at Hadriel.  Unlike Joan, the angel continued to follow after the globe of celestial energy.  Apparently, doing so had led her to pay attention to the fourth sphere before the French saint had reached it.  Looking at it, Joan could understand why seeing it came as a shock, especially if she had been focused upon the orb of celestial purity beforehand.

    The fourth sphere was black, perfectly, unnaturally, so.  The first two had each radiated power in their own way, while the third had been hard and solid, power held within it, waiting for use.  This one though . . . it instead seemed to drink in all the power that touched it.  Light, sound, even the natural mana that pulsed through the world, all of it flowed into the black orb in a way that was distinctly unsettling to one with the senses to understand it.

    ¡°The Abyss . . . ?  But how can that be?¡±

    As she spoke Hadriel reached out to the black globe but stopped before her hand touched its surface.  Both her action and her words were enough to make Joan¡¯s eyes widen in concern as she turned to look at the fourth sphere as though it were a snake poised to strike.  She had good reason to, she had heard the way in which the angel had referred to it, ¡®the Abyss¡¯ not ¡®an¡¯ abyss, but ¡®the Abyss¡¯, and the resurrected soul knew what she must mean by that.

    The Abyss, the one with the ¡®the¡¯ and the capital letter at the beginning, was how the angels referred to the original black void that was the first of God¡¯s creations.  Before it there had been nothing, then, by his very awareness of that nothingness it became the Abyss, the original void from which all was spawned, the ancestor, the precursor, of the blackness between stars.  It no longer existed, not in the pure form it had possessed before the rest of Creation sprang into being, but even so the mere memory of it was regarded as one of the most powerful and dangerous forces in existence since it was so old.  Even the angels had come afterwards, even the oldest and strongest of them such as Michael or Lucifer were younger, and as such below it on one level of the hierarchy of existence.

    There were a few gods that were incarnations of it, but they were among the strongest and most inhuman of all deities, the sort that even the champions of Heaven would be hesitant to fight without planning and preparation.  Some demons were also attuned to it and were the sorts of monsters that even gods feared.  Simply put, the Abyss was powerful in the most primal sense of the word.

    Despite the nature of the power it held, the sphere did not seem to be violent in the way she would have expected.  Had anyone told her that the power of the Abyss was being summoned then she would have thought it would take the form of some sort of portal in the air, an open breech in space relentlessly consuming everything with its never-ending hunger.  Instead, what she saw before her wasn¡¯t as greedy as she would have expected.  There was a light breeze flowing into the sphere, but it was not trying to suck all into itself.  Instead, it just floated there, an orb of perfect darkness.  Tentatively the resurrected soul tried to see if she could feel anything from it.

    What she felt wasn¡¯t violent, but it was . . . deep.  It wasn¡¯t so much that she could detect the presence of a power, there was nothing she could see, feel or touch with any of her mystic senses.  Instead, it was just pure instinct, intuition telling her that there was something buried and lurking in the depths of the void.  Aside from that there was . . . nothing, just a vast gulf of nothingness that seemed to be without end.  As she stared at the globe longer, she felt the vastness within it.

    Infinity, trapped in a space the size of a large cart from her time.  The thought was enough to make her shudder in disquiet.  Now she understood at least some of why Hadriel was so disturbed, after all her senses must be far more acute than Joan¡¯s.  What must she be sensing from the sphere?  The power of the original void was mighty, easily enough to give even an angel pause.

    So why was some of its power here?

    For a moment Joan felt her heart freeze at a thought!  Had the foes that had attacked earlier found a different way to strike at them?  Was this their new gambit, summoning the ultimate void in the hopes that it would swallow Adam up before he could fully Awaken?  But as the thought rose, she realized it was foolish.  Had it appeared close to him then perhaps her scenario could have been possible, but instead the sphere of the Abyss was floating in formation with the other three globes of . . . what?

    Now that she thought about it, what were these great orbs?  She¡¯d been so focused on trying to identify what each of them contained, or was made of, that she hadn¡¯t paused to wonder why they were there in the first place!

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, do you know what is happening?¡±

    The question seemed to be enough to snap the soldier of Heaven out of her daze as she turned to look at the French saint.  Then her gaze sharpened as she gave herself a small shake.

    ¡°I . . . I can only speculate, but I believe that these spheres represent the divine energies that the young mortal has been channelling through his Awakening.¡±

    ¡°I do not think I understand.¡±

    What did she mean?  She had identified the first sphere as being that of Bath Kol, so what were the other ones?

    ¡°We know that the mortal was meant to gain power through his bloodline with Lady Bath Kol, so that would explain the first of the spheres.  It is an externalization of the power accumulated within him; his body is feeding it into a vessel outside of his flesh so that his body will not be overburdened by it within him.  If that is true, then . . . then these other spheres must likewise be external repositories for divine power.¡±

    She looked uncertain, but her words caused Joan¡¯s eyes to widen as she stared at the other three globes.  Each of them was just as big as the orb holding the heavenly power, and even to her supernatural senses they didn¡¯t feel weaker, so that would mean . . .

    ¡°Adam is not just the Legacy of Lady Bath Kol then?  He also carries the blood of others?!¡±

    ¡°It could be!¡± Hadriel had turned back to the slowly orbiting spheres and was staring at them intently. ¡°I was assigned to this mission somewhat abruptly, so I was not as well briefed as I should have been, but-¡±

    ¡°The Lord . . .¡± The angel¡¯s words were cut off as Joan spoke, her words slowly forming as she drew the pieces of information into a line in her mind. ¡°The Lord said that his line was a distinguished one, one that could be traced back to Bath Kol, but . . . but I think that I may have . . . misinterpreted His words.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    To the returned maiden¡¯s surprise, there was no accusation or castigation in the angel¡¯s voice.  Instead, she sounded the gentlest that she had since her arrival.

    ¡°What I remember of what He told me is fragmented, but now that I think on it . . . ¡®distinguished¡¯ is not the exact word He used, it is simply the closest interpretation I could fit to it at the time.  Another meaning for the . . . notion he communicated could also have been ¡®rich¡¯ or ¡®rare¡¯.¡±

    She paused for a moment thinking hard about exactly what she knew, or thought she knew, about the audience she¡¯d had with the Lord, God.

    ¡°Perhaps . . . perhaps it was not that Adam¡¯s line could be traced back to Lady Bath Kol, rather it was that his line originated with Lady Bath Kol?¡±

    Yes, yes that made sense!  Joan nodded to herself as she looked to the spinning spheres, then back to Hadriel.  The angel was also nodding, her red wings flexing slightly as she also watched the orbs.

    ¡°That would explain it.  If his line began with the Voice in older times, shortly after the Paths of Eternity were closed, then it is entirely possible that other bloodlines might have been added over the centuries.  Even when in mortal form, gods are drawn to power like iron filings to a lodestone, it is simply a part of their natures.  It could be that the blood of others has also found its way into the line, which would mean that Adam . . .¡±

    Her voice trailed off as they both stared at the quartet of great spheres.

    Four of them!

    Four!

    It wasn¡¯t unknown for a demigod to be the inheritor of two Legacies, or to have a Legacy in their past that had drawn their divine parent to the bloodline, but four?  That was unheard of!  What was even more concerning was that up until now Joan had thought her charge''s importance came from his ties to Bath Kol.  Yes, demigods that inherited their powers from Legacies were generally weaker than those with a directly divine parent, but given the status of the Voice of God as one of the strongest angels in Creation, the resurrected saint had thought her charge might prove to be the exception.

    However, the proof that she had been incorrect was now right before her.  Yes, the power of an elder angel did flow through Adam, but so did that of three others of equal might, which meant he was the inheritor of four Legacies!

    What did that mean?

    Not for the first time Joan wished she had spent more time studying lore in the archives of the High Heavens, rather than devoting so much of her efforts to becoming the warrior she¡¯d wished that she could be.

    A sudden shift in the light of the area drew her attention away from her thoughts and back to the cocoon.  Once more light was dancing across it, but not the dance of ever-shifting colours that it had been before.  This time it was only one colour, and for the life in her she could not have said what colour it was.

    Golden?  Maybe, there was certainly something golden about it, but at the same time that wasn¡¯t it!  Silver?  Again, perhaps.  Silver was associated with purity.  The colour before her was pure in a way that somehow surpassed even the sphere of Bath Kol.  She was sure there was something metallic about the hue, yet at the same time, it made her think of soft sunlight and firm stone, of the roar of the storm and the current of a stream.  She stared at it, her vision blurring as she tried to focus upon a colour that was too elusive for her to gain a firm grip upon.  It didn¡¯t hurt, but there was discomfort, even so, she felt she had to . . . to what?  Witness?  Remember?  Simply see that enrapturing colour?

    ¡°Oh . . . that is . . .¡±

    The words were spoken so quietly by Hadriel that Joan almost missed them, but even as her curiosity spiked, her eyes didn¡¯t stray from the point of light hovering only inches over the chrysalis.  It was a good thing that she didn¡¯t turn away, otherwise, she would have missed what happened next.

    The globes that had been orbiting the cocoon suddenly changed direction and rushed towards the chrysalis that lay at their centre.  Their abrupt change of both speed and direction was shockingly swift, even though the reborn maiden only saw it from the corners of her eyes.  What she saw in detail was when all four spheres collided with each other as they were all drawn to the single point of light above Adam¡¯s form.  There was a brief moment where the space before her eyes swam, not from her vision being obscured by dirt or tears, but rather as though space itself was twisting about some invisible point as each of the globes seemed to both crash into and merge with each of the others.  There was a sound like continents crashing into each other, then all five lights were gone and-

    White and light, that was all there was!

    Joan took a stumbling step backwards, away from the brilliant white light that seemed to be swallowing up the world.  Panicking she started to raise her arm to shield her eyes from the light that she knew would burn them out of their sockets, only to pause as a realization struck her.

    The light . . . it was bright, brilliant beyond anything she could imagine, the incandescent radiance of a thousand times a thousand stars erupting into blazing novae, and yet it did not hurt!  Her eyes simply stared into the massive onrush of white and saw it consume the world.  Off to the side, she could hear Hadriel voice a low enraptured sigh, but to the woman that was once called the Maiden of Orleans, it was unimportant.

    All that held her attention was the light!

 Chapter 14: Awakening: Part Three

    The hellish seeds had fed well.

    Days had passed since they had been buried in the pool of power the young demigod had accumulated, and in that time they had greedily soaked up what they could.  The flecks had grown, but they had been unable to spread.  Undirected as the energy they existed in might be, it was still potent, too potent for them to corrupt.  All they could do was feed on the scraps they could nibble off, subsuming them into their tiny existences and then corrupting them from within.  It was a loathsome parasitic existence, but the mindless shards of hell-born energy strove only to endure, regardless of the method.

    They were stronger now, having swollen with their gorging, but even so, they were but a drop in the lake, unable to act lest they be swallowed up.  All they could do was continue to feed and grow, in the hopes that with enough time they would become potent enough to corrupt the pool of power and usurp it.

    However, now their time was up.

    Heavenly power flowed through the demigod¡¯s system, removing blockages, clearing pathways, and allowing a stalled ascension to once more resume its course!  There was a brief moment of stillness, then the pool of power that had been placid as a lake roiled like a sea in a storm as its power began to be channelled.  The tiny shards of hellish energy could do nothing about that though, not when they were struggling to survive.

    The catalysation of the process would normally not have been too great a threat to the hell-born energies.  By their very nature, they were a corruptive force, one that was suited to remaining dormant and slowly allowing its taint to spread.  With another sort of demigod, they could have slipped into the ascension, become a part of it, become the kernel of greed, lust and ambition that could have led such a being to become a monster.  Here that was not the case.

    This demigod was tightly linked to the High Heavens, and that nature was flooding through his being as he rose to a greater state.  There were other powers there as well, but it was the heavenly aspect that burned the seeds as it made contact.  Under other conditions the shards of hellish energy would have been purged, erased by the flood of power inimical to them, only one thing saved them.

    The torrent of energy was moving outwards, an expanding expression of power rather than a cleansing deluge through the demigod¡¯s body.  Rather than fleeing the seeds mindlessly pushed themselves inwards, struggling to go deeper in order to escape the divine force that sought to scour them from existence.

    Deeper they burrowed, forcing their way towards the core of the pool of power, the furthest point they could reach from the outpouring of power that seared away at them.  Still, they burnt, the energies about them tinted by the demigod¡¯s transformation into a being of divine power, but they endured, they survived. And they met.

    All the tiny shards had been forcing their way in the same general direction, all aiming for the same goal.  As their unthinking struggles continued, they encountered one another, and when they did so they merged as though they were drops of water.  Again and again, they met, combined and carried on, until the disparate seeds had become a single whole.

    The aggregate of the hell-born energies was still minuscule, but it was stronger than the seeds had been, able to better survive the heavenly power that still burnt at it.  More than that, what had once been a collection of mindless shards now had a will of its own.  Its ability to think was nearly insignificant, more akin to an insect than anything else, but it was there, a driving force that had not existed before.

    With all the tenacity of a tick clamping onto warm flesh, the combined mass of malignant power began once more to feed.  The energies it tried to consume burnt at it, but as long as it did not allow its appetite to override its instinct to survive, it could devour a steady trickle.

    Without words, without images, with only a drive that could not be quenched, it continued to advance towards its goal, the death of the demigod that served as its host.

    Hidden in the depths of the demigod¡¯s being the newly born creature remained unmindful of the ascension of its host, but the rest of the world was not so uncaring of what was taking place.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    She felt it before she saw it, the massive swell of power coming from the direction of the farmstead where he was staying!

    She¡¯d been sitting in a wall-side booth in the restaurant of the hotel she was staying in, thanking her good fortune for how things had turned out.  Her financial situation had improved greatly, thanks to a lucky find of some rare herbs, and the discovery that the owner of the local hotel was sick with some sort of stomach infection.  It had been remarkable how things had fallen her way, from her hearing some of the town gossip while in the herb store, to the owner himself being willing to hear her out.  She¡¯d just needed a bit of fast-talking, a small demonstration of power, and the application of a quickly made potion and the owner was back to full health. She had a room and full board for a week without having to pay a single coin.

    The place wasn¡¯t the height of luxury.  The bed were a bit hard, her room was a bit dusty, but the food served at the restaurant wasn¡¯t bad at all.  She¡¯d slept like a brick that night and savoured every bite of the breakfast and dinner she¡¯d ordered.  She¡¯d actually been enjoying her supper when the first wave of power rolled over her.

    She didn¡¯t hesitate for even a second.  Had she had the strength she would have thrown the table before her aside in her haste to get out. Since that strength was sealed, instead she scrambled around it, unmindful of the dishes she overturned or the food that stained her clothes.  There was a clatter and crash as plates, cutlery and glassware were pushed onto the floor to break, drawing the attention of both the staff and the other customers, but she couldn¡¯t have cared less.

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    All her focus was on getting outside, on getting a line of sight towards the source of the great swells of power she could feel rolling towards her!

    There were some cries of protest as she dashed for the main door, but she ignored them.  She charged through the door with such force that it rattled upon its hinges.

    Once outside she immediately turned to face the direction of the power, drawn towards it as surely as the needle of a compass would point north.  Behind her, she could hear others following her, hear shouted demands as to what she was doing, but again she ignored them.  All her focus was upon the distant feeling of energies growing and fusing, merging, and condensing until a critical point was reached and-

    ¡°Hey!  Hey, are you listening to me?!¡±

    A hand seized her shoulder and shook her, almost breaking her concentration.  It took every ounce of her will not to lash out at the fool daring to distract her at such a moment.  Instead, she reached to the side, not shifting her eyes from the direction in which they were locked and grabbed the shoulder of the person accosting her.  There was some exclamation of protest, but she ignored it, she just pointed to the horizon with her free hand.

    ¡°Look!¡±

    She forced every bit of authority that she could manage into the single word, and the person she had seized paused in their struggles, probably following her gesture.  It wouldn¡¯t last long, not with her in her current state.  The fact that her left leg was dripping soup and her jacket was stained with spilt wine wouldn¡¯t help any effort she made to seem commanding, but she didn¡¯t need them to stay quiet for long.  Already she could feel the final reaction commencing, her trained senses feeling it as the divine powers collapsed inwards, towards something akin to a singularity event.  Just a little more, just a little more . . .

    ¡°What?  What is it?  I can¡¯t see anyth-¡±

    The irritating jabber was cut off as a great white light suddenly bloomed into being in the distance!

    ¡°YES!!!¡±

    A single word of exultation burst forth from her in a great shout!  Yes, it was done!  Adam was Awakened, the divine blood in his veins brought forth to full manifestation and his divine heritage invoked!  She¡¯d been so afraid that something would go wrong, but here it was, proof that she had been right, that he was the one that she¡¯d been looking for!

    She gazed into the white brilliance as it grew and let a joyful smile spread across her face.  Yes, this was proof, and it was also proof that he was going to be strong, so very strong.  The power that was being radiated now was incredible, greater than she¡¯d dared to hope for.  So much so that it seemed overwhelming.

    In fact . . .

    Her eyes widened as she watched the light continue to grow, the white brilliance reaching up into the sky higher and higher.  But not just that, it was also reaching out.  Out towards them here!

    She took a stumbling step backwards as she watched the white light swallow up the night, ceasing to be a flare in the distance and instead becoming an onrushing wall.  Even as she looked at it, her mind tried to understand what she was seeing, the pieces were there, but weren¡¯t fitting together.  She knew that what she was seeing was an Awakening Flare, the natural aura that a demigod spread as they transitioned from being mere mortals to being semi-divine beings.  She knew how far away the farmhouse was.  She knew how fast the wall of light was coming.  And she knew how to put all of these details together into an equation, but the final answer she was getting simply didn¡¯t make sense.

    ¡°So huge . . .¡±

    It was said as more of a prayer than anything else, her mind unable to believe that something so massive could be the result of a simple Awakening.  Yes, prophecy and her own research had shown that Adam was to be a powerful demigod, but this . . . this was insane!

    Before she could think of anything else the approaching wall of light went past and through her, leaving her in a world of white.  To her surprise the power didn¡¯t burn, or push, or even blind, it just existed about her, as though it had taken the world.

    This . . . this was more than she had been expecting, but she didn¡¯t think it was a bad thing.

    Sitting down upon the ground she basked in the light and waited for it to fade.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The robed figure stood beside the scarred man on the balcony as they stared out into the night.  Under normal circumstances the view from this part of the castle was quite splendid, looking out over the wide valley to provide a panoramic view of not only the lands but also of the sunsets, and at night the stargazing could be breath-taking.  However, it was not the stars or the moon that the pair of magic users were staring at this particular night.  Rather it was the massive orb of white light that dominated the sky and the horizon to the west of them.

    ¡°W-well, I think it¡¯s safe to s-say that we failed in our task.¡±

    The scarred man¡¯s tone tried to be nonchalant, but it did little hide to the clear tremble in both his voice and his limbs as he stared up at the gigantic sphere.  The paleness of his skin was not solely attributed to the white light shining down on him.

    They had both felt the waves of power, despite the miles separating them from where the Awakening demigod was and had dashed out onto the balcony to get a line of sight towards their source.  What they saw had chilled them to the bone.

    Their patron had told them that the demigod they sought was special, but to see the sheer magnitude of power unleashed by his mere Awakening had been . . . humbling.  What they were seeing was power on a level that dwarfed anything they could have thought of.  This was something that they knew their patron could have done, though it would have taken much of their power and cost them the anonymity that had been carefully built up.  For it to come from simply the Awakening Flare of the young man they¡¯d tried to capture boggled the mind.

    ¡°We tried to capture that?¡±

    The robed figure couldn¡¯t help but ask the question as they stared up and the growing sphere that continued to dominate the sky.  It was growing upwards and outwards, so it would not be touching the earth except for the local area around its base, but already it filled the sky.  They could not even begin to guess at its size, but it had to be enormous.  The demigod had been somewhere in southern France when they had sent their servants to try and capture him, and this castle was built near the border between Germany and Poland, hundreds of miles away.  Yet here it was the behemoth globe ruling the night as though a second moon had fallen from the stars and come to rest upon the earth.

    ¡°So . . . do you think our patron will forgive our failure in the face of the power the target possessed, or will he grow angrier at having lost the chance to control such potential?¡±

    The scarred man¡¯s question was pertinent, but the robe wearer could not bring themselves to care all that much at this point.  Yes, later that was a question that would be of severe importance, but for the time being the display of power was more captivating than worries about the future.

    Such power, such scope . . . it filled them with both awe and envy.

    They wanted it, wanted that power, wanted that level of significance.  They stared into that light and craved what it represented, even as the purity of it made a buried and shrivelled part of them weep.

    The pair of mages stared up at the great sphere, each of them lost in their thoughts, each of them wrapped up in their own fears and greed, each of them thinking of how this would impact their future.

 Chapter 14: Awakening: Part Four

    Across the North Atlantic Ocean, it was still day, and the sun was still high in the sky and the heat of it beat down upon the city of Washington.

    Still, bright though it might be it did not hide the white light coming from the east, a great part of a globe, mostly hidden by the horizon, but still reaching up high enough into the heavens that it could be seen across the city.  It had only appeared seconds ago, but already the streets were flooded with those staring towards it, wondering what it was.

    At the top of a skyscraper, in an office that could only be described as decadently luxurious, a figure sat in a chair that was closer to a throne and stared out of the great glass windows that made up one of the walls.  His view was unobstructed, given that his building was among the tallest in the city and was also ideally situated for a view of what was attracting the crowds.  His sky-blue eyes gazed out of the window, staring at the shining white dome in the distance as though it were a far-off enemy.

    ¡°Father, that is-¡±

    The words came from the young woman standing behind him.  Shadows cast by the distant light obscured her face but did little to hide the magnificent figure that was clad in a snuggly fitting business suit or the cascade of dark blonde hair down her back.  The figure in the chair did not turn to face her, instead, he simply held up a hand, cutting off her words.

    ¡°Yes, I know, I can easily feel the power, the power of the High Heavens.  But do you know what else I feel?¡±

    His words were measured, though there was an undercurrent to them, some unknown emotion that was only just suppressed.

    ¡°No, I feel only the might of the angels.¡±

    The woman declared, her eyes gazing at the dome of energy beyond the horizon.

    ¡°That is to be expected, you have never been in Her presence, so you would not feel it.  But it is there, beneath the brighter powers, like the roots of a tree hidden in the earth.¡±

    The woman raised an arm, her palm extended towards the light as though she were trying to feel the heat that might be coming off it.  There was a pause, then she took a shocked step back, as though trying to back away from the distant light.

    ¡°What?!  No!  No, that cannot be!¡±

    ¡°So, you felt it then?¡±  The words were a question, but the seated figure intoned them as a statement. ¡°Then you know what it means.¡±

    ¡°But . . . But it cannot be!  The Abyss would not take mortal form!¡±

    ¡°We now both know that not to be true.  The proof of it is before us.¡±

    There was a brief moment of silence as they both stared at the light once more, then the seated figure raised his arm once more.

    ¡°Send out the word.  This is a matter for all of us to discuss.  Our actions in response to this . . .¡± he gestured to the distant light, ¡°. . . will determine our future in this new era.¡±

    There was no reply, the woman was just gone, there one instant, and in the next the seated figure was alone.  He made no move or acknowledgement though, instead he just stared out of the window at the white dome that dominated the horizon.

    ¡°So, you are here, just as he said you would be,¡± The words were quiet, meant for just himself. ¡°We shall see what you are, what you want, I owe him that.  But I will not surrender this world to you, I will not let you take it from me.  I shall see you dead first!¡±

    As the last words passed his lips arks of blue lightning flashed about his fingers, scorching the armrest of his throne where they touched.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    He did not sit on a throne, he did not sit in an office, nor was he in a skyscraper.  Instead, he sat in a field, the grass beneath him the only seat he needed.  Above him, the stars were out, and the moon was bright in the sky.  None of that mattered to him though, for his eyes were fixed upon the great white sphere that bloomed into the northwest sky.

    His pose was meditative, his legs crossed beneath him, and his face was calm.  It might have been a combination of the white light that shone down from both the distant orb and the moon itself, but his skin seemed to be tinted blue.  His matted black hair was styled into a topknot, and his clothes were all but rags.  Still, despite his unkempt and wild appearance, there was a deep sense of serenity about him, like the surface of some deep and calm river.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Now, that¡¯s impressive.¡±

    The feminine voice came from behind him, the tone playful, but with an undercurrent of something that skirted the edges of lust and hunger.  To any mortal it would have been the source of deliciously unsettling shivers running up and down their spine, to the meditating figure it simply familiar, and his gaze remained fixed upon the distant light.  The voice came from the deeper shadows of the nearby trees, shadows that kept the speaker from being easily seen.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that you started a mortal bloodline.  It¡¯s pretty impressive that it¡¯s lasted until now though.  Hey, what do you think your wife will have to say about that?¡±

    This time the voice was needling, doing its best to try to elicit a reaction from the stoic figure seated upon the grass.  But again, there was no response, and a sigh escaped from the shadows.

    ¡°Yeah, I suppose she would be that understanding, after all, none of us knew how the passage between worlds worked in those early days.  Copying those guys from the High Heavens wasn¡¯t the best way we could¡¯ve handled it.¡±

    There was a pause as the light from above shone down.

    ¡°Did you enjoy it?  Forgetting who you were, living as a mortal, having parents, growing up, loving a woman, having a family, then dying?  By the time I tried it, we all knew the trick to keep most of your identity, so I never really lost myself.  Do you think that was a mistake though?  Should I have given it a try, living completely as a mortal, just once?¡±

    Again, the speaker¡¯s words provoked no reaction from the seated figure himself, but about his neck, something moved, and a low hiss could be heard.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know, don¡¯t push it,¡± The voice was no longer needling, rather it was simply amused. ¡°I went to live a mortal life dozens of times, in so many places, across so many countries.  The last time I went down was less than two of their decades ago, I¡¯d probably still have been in mortal form when the Paths reopened if I hadn¡¯t been caught in that car accident.  You only went once though, didn¡¯t you?  Even your wife went three times, even if only so she could live in prayer to you.

    ¡°What does that mean to you, that your bloodline has become a part of one so tied to the High Heavens?  And not just to them.  Even I can feel the other powers mixed in there, and you know what that means.  So, what¡¯ll you do?  How do you want to handle this?¡±

    There was silence once more, as the seated figure continued to gaze up at the vast luminescent sphere that was only slightly concealed by the horizon.

    ¡°They¡¯re strong. Whoever it is that has inherited your blood is very strong.  Strengths going to lead to attention and adoration in some, but in others, it''s just going to provoke envy and fear.  They¡¯ll look at that power and want to either own it, control it, or snuff it out, you know?  So, what do you want to do?  How do you want to handle this?¡±

    Again, there was silence, but it was broken by the seated figure slowly climbing to his feet.

    ¡°We must prepare.¡±

    His voice was quiet, yet authority hung upon each word, a weight born of power and confidence absolute.  That was all he said, but those three words hung in the air like swords ready for war, even as his eyes remained fixed upon the distant light.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The demigod stood outside of the elaborate building of stone and wood that he called his palace, his eyes uncaring of the flowing silks that decorated the ceiling, or of the beautiful statues that lined the walls.  Instead, his gaze was upon the great sphere of white light that dominated the sky to the north.  Behind him, there were murmurs of concern, questions from those that didn¡¯t know what was going on and wished to be assured all was safe, but he paid them no mind.  Before long one brave, or perhaps foolish, servant came up beside him and asked the question that was burning on everyone¡¯s minds.

    ¡°Sir, your Highness?  Wh-what is it?  Is it an enemy?  Should we be preparing for another challenge to yo-¡±

    What further questions the Servant might have voiced were cut off as the demigod laid his hand across the servant¡¯s face, blocking his voice.  For a moment he considered striking the servant down but dismissed the thought as wasteful and unnecessarily cruel.

    Instead, he called upon his own power, lifting himself into the sky to gain a better view of the massive orb that now dominated the newly dark sky.

    As he rose, he could feel the light of the sphere playing across his skin, and the demigod felt his flesh itch at its touch.  His eyes narrowed as he gazed up at the vast orb that took up the sky like a fallen moon.  This power was known to him, it was the power of the High Heavens, or at least the bulk of what he recognized.  As he focused more and more of his supernatural senses upon the distant light, he could feel other forces mixed into it, forces he could not readily identify, but which he could tell were strong in their own rights.

    However, even the strange mixture of forces was not the principal reason for the disquiet that filled the demigod. It was the sheer magnitude of the power he could sense coming from the white light that clawed at his soul.

    He knew what it was, knew that it was the Awakening Flare of some other demigod in a distant country, and the sheer scale of it was breathtaking.  The demigod had experienced his own Awakening Flare when he had come into his power, and it had been enough to reduce the area for a mile about him into a desolate ruin.  What he was seeing now was less destructive, but far more epic.  And for the first time, since his divine blood had granted him power, he wondered if he truly stood at the peak of demigod power.

    His eyes narrowed as he gazed up at the great sphere that had suddenly become nothing but an immense insult to him.

    No, no that could not be!  He¡¯d had to earn his power!  He¡¯d had to suffer for it, sacrificed for it!  It had let him rise, let him carve out his own kingdom!  He refused to believe that it could be overshadowed so easily!

    Those thoughts continued to echo in his mind as he descended back to the ground.  More of the mewling sheep that followed him gathered about him as he landed, bleating their questions and begging for reassurance, but he paid them no mind.  Instead, he was focused on thoughts of gaining more power, of reaching new heights that would dwarf those of the demigod that had created the distant globe of white light.

    Had he been paying more attention; he might have noted that as his thoughts grew more covetous, the itch the white light caused him grew, as his exposed flesh began to imperceptibly swell and redden.

 Chapter 14: Awakening: Part Five

    ¡°My Lady!¡±

    The servant burst into the workshop without waiting for a response before entering.  Deep in his soul, he felt a near anguishing guilt gnawing at him for this violation of the protocol that he felt it was his duty to protect, but he doggedly ignored it as he pressed on.

    ¡°My Lady!  Outside!  Something is taking place that you must see!¡±

    Protocol was important, propriety was important, they were the hallmarks of civilization, the barriers that separated enlightened society from crude barbarism, but sometimes they had to be put aside in the face of tribulations and the unforeseen.

    And what was happening outside was most certainly unforeseen.

    It was still night, though the dawn would soon approach.  The sliver of light across the horizon, however, was not the sun come early, not with the way it radiated divine power, enough for any to tell it was not some trivial illusion.  That was why he had entered here without leave, that was why he was desperately seeking the goddess he acknowledged as his mistress.

    The trailing sleeve of his robe caught upon the edge of a pot as he made his way deeper into the large workshop.  Before he could do anything, the pot wobbled, then fell from the workbench to smash upon the tiled floor.  He froze for a moment, his urgency battling the long-engrained habits that told him he should stop immediately and atone for his blunder.  But he continued deeper into the maze of rooms and worktops.  As soon as he had informed his Lady, he would kowtow to her and inform her of his transgression, accepting what punishments she saw as fitting for his transgression, but first, he must inform her of what was happening.

    At last, he came to the centre of the workshop complex.  A single room that his Lady had created to act as not only her main workplace but also as her inner sanctum, a place she could retreat to when she wished to be undisturbed.  He had only been privileged to see it a single time when his goddess had raised her palace up upon the mortal plane and accepted him and a few select others to act as her honoured servants.  It curdled his heart to think that he would now have to violate that tranquil sanctity, but he could not allow his Lady to be ignorant of what was happening, not when it could be momentous.

    It could be the ascension of a new deity arriving upon the mortal plane.  It could be the harbinger of an attack that was coming.  It could be some far-off disaster.  There was no way to know, but he knew that something so huge must be reported to his goddess!

    The gates to the inner workshop were massive things, more appropriate to a fortress than to a deity¡¯s inner sanctum.  About it were five indentations carved into the frame.  These were the spots where the keys, his Lady¡¯s keys, must be placed in order for the door to open.  This was as far as he could advance without being allowed in, so he steeled his nerves and raised his hand to beat upon the door.

    ¡°MY LADY!¡±

    His hand balled into a fist so tight that the knuckles were white as bone, came down against the stone and metal of the gate . . . and froze in place as the door swung open before him, the balance and design of the gate and hinges so perfect that even the meagre force of his blow was enough to push them open.

    How?!  How could this be?!  Why was the inner sanctum of his goddess open like this?!

    As though in mocking answer to the questions rampaging through his mind, his eyes were drawn to a scroll, one lying before the open gate, one held in place by a small statue.  On it, written in the elegant and precise characters of his Lady¡¯s hand was a simple message.

    ¡°I thank you and all others for their service, but now I must go.  I feel the power beyond the horizon and know that my blood has Awakened, and the Heavens now turn.  I shall return in time, until then continue your duties and await me.¡±

    The servant sank to his knees, his mind frozen.  All he could think, all that the world was, revolved around a single question.  What was happening that would cause . . . this?

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The god raised his head to stare at a blank wall.

    Given that the chambers he currently occupied were buried underground in the side of a mountain it was hardly a surprise that there were no windows to let him see outside, but such trivial impediments were hardly of any hindrance to one such as he.  Magic that would take a mortal decades to learn responded to his mere thoughts and granted him sight to see past the purely physical material.

    Through rock and sand and metal he gazed out at the world.  He gazed out and witnessed the vast sphere of divine power that dominated the northeastern sky like some silent tyrant moon sprung from nowhere.  Gazing up at it he saw beyond what mere light could show, he saw the dance of different energies within the sphere.  Powers that should have been at war, that should have been tearing the demigod apart, instead danced in magnificent harmony.

    Seeing this his features creased into a grimace.

    This . . . this was what had been lost to him by the incompetence of his agents.  Had they succeeded, had they been able to bring the unawakened demigod to him, then that power would even now be at his service!  It would have been so simple, there were so many ways to compel or trick loyalty from a mortal, ways that would have maintained that loyalty even after his Awakening.  What he could have done with such an agent, with a demigod of this calibre at his command . . .

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    No!  there was no point in dwelling over what could have been.  Perhaps it had been his error, to send mortals after a target that was so clearly of great import.  Yes, he had known that the young man was meant to become a demigod of great power, but he could not have anticipated the sheer scale of might that was being demonstrated.  In hindsight, it was only to be expected that the High Heavens would see to the security of such a potentially powerful asset, and perhaps it had not been merely poor preparation that had led them to fail.

    There was no way to be certain, but he would not allow indecision to paralyse him now.  He had other plans in motion, other agents that were carrying out his will.  For the time being the loss of this demigod was unfortunate, but as of yet it would not overly affect his plans.

    As for the agents that had failed him . . . he would leave them to stew for a time, then he would give them another task they could undertake to make up for their failure.  It would be a difficult task, something to challenge them and ensure that they retained their usefulness, but should they succeed then he would absolve them of their earlier failure.  If they should fail again . . . well, several potent reagents could be extracted from a sorcerer¡¯s body, both before and after they died.

    A shift in the powers outside brought his attention back to the great orb of white light.  It was shrinking now, the powers within it draining down towards its base, no doubt to be consumed in the final transition of the demigod from a purely mortal being into a semidivine one.

    All that power, what he could have done with it . . .

    This new demigod would warrant a lot of careful attention in the future, of that he was sure.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Amidst the snowy mountains of northern Russia, a beautiful woman more than fifteen feet tall with skin as pale as snow and eyes as grey as a winter blizzard stared towards the sphere of white that was just visible over the horizon.  Her hand tightened about the spear she held, but after a moment she relaxed.

    A great power may have been born, but there was no reason to believe that it was a hostile one.  She would wait, and she would learn.  If it proved a danger then she would deal with it, and if it proved helpful then it may be a worthy ally, she was content to wait and see.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    In the Far East, upon the shores of Japan, the light of the great white orb could not be seen, but that did not mean its presence was not felt.

    In a shrine out in the countryside, an old monk knelt before an altar.  In the background incense burnt, filling the small building with the scent of prayers, but that was of no consequence to the kneeling man.  Instead, his focus was elsewhere, upon the pulse of power that he could feel spreading across the world.  In the shadows of the shrine figures of indistinct form moved, flitting about as swiftly as shadows moving with the flicker of a flame, gathering, waiting for an order.  In response, the old monk simply held up a hand.

    There would be no action today, but in the future, there might be a need to extend an open hand, and if not then perhaps a blade in the shadows would do.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    In the jungles of Brazil, a maiden hunted amidst the foliage.  At her side moved great cats, their bodies empowered and enlarged by her power.  In her hands, she held a spear tipped not with metal, but with stone.  Her form was a lithe beauty, one that matched the cats that hunted with her, and on her strong face was a fierce smile.  The hunt had been good today, the interlopers having been driven off and the natural balance of plants and animals in the area had been returned to their proper levels by her power.

    Still, despite her eagerness to enjoy the jungle she had revitalized, she paused in her stride, the large cats stopping as well as she turned to face the northeast.

    There was power there, power that made the hairs on her skin rise in both excitement and trepidation.  It was not a feeling she was used to experiencing.  Something had changed in the world, and she was unsure of how it would affect her.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    In a high-tech lab, one marked on no official documents and known only to a select few, sirens and klaxons were wailing, and red lights were flashing.

    All around personnel were dashing about, chaos setting in as equipment sparked and popped, seemingly at random.  Protocols that had been set up with such a situation in mind failed one after another as machines whined and instrumentation smoked.  Where once there had been the order of professionals at work now there was only the bedlam of confusion and panic.

    There was a single calm centre though, a single figure that refused to yield to the spreading hysteria.  A single lab coat-wearing figure remained at their station and stared at the readouts on their screen, every detail searing itself into their memory.  Even as equipment that was the result of months of secret effort and enormous expense melted down as it tried to measure and analyse the overwhelming power outside the figure remained calm.  The screen sparked, sputtered, dissolved into static and went out, but the figure didn¡¯t care, they had already seen the data.  As they turned to leave, a single word passed their lips, lost in the hubbub about them.

    ¡°Magnificent.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The crouched form stepped out of the shadow of the building as he watched the massive globe of light shrink away until it disappeared beneath the western horizon, his eyes glaring hatefully into the distance where it had been.

    Were one to look upon the figure then they would have realized that there was no way that he could be considered human.  His shoulders were too broad, his neck too long, his legs bent in ways that a human could never have managed, and the hands that clutched at his large coat were too large and clawed to be mistaken for those of a man.  More than that though, the exposed skin of his hands and face was burnt and blistered where the light of the sphere had touched them.  Even as the light began to retreat small wisps of smoke still rose from the scorched skin, a silent testament to the heat that had seared them.

    A threat, something that needed to be dealt with, that was the only way in which the light could be regarded.  Lips curled away from teeth too sharp and barbed to do anything but rip and tear.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Around the world dozens, then hundreds of beings sensed the pulse of power as it raced across the surface of the planet, then reached out into the void in which the spheres of creation danced.  Some had seen the great white orb of radiance that had illuminated half the globe, others simply sensed the power, and some few even felt the threads of fate and destiny shiver and quake as possibilities that had not existed before sprang into being.

    Many saw, while few understood, but all knew one thing; a new power had emerged.

 Chapter 15: The New You: Part One

    Chapter 15: The New You

    Joan watched in awe as the seemingly endless white retreated towards chrysalis, sinking into it like water being drunk up by dry sand.  It took some time for the rest of the world to slip back into focus, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the return of a world with shades of colour and levels of darkness.

    The first thing that she noticed was that the world around her still looked whiter than it should be.  She blinked, trying to clear her vision, only to realize that it was the area around her that had changed, not the quality of her sight.  All the grass as far as she could see had been . . . ¡®stained¡¯ wasn¡¯t really appropriate, but that was the only way she could describe what had happened.  The grass, the trees in the distance, and every plant near them, they all seemed to be perfectly healthy, indeed they looked a bit more vibrant than they had earlier.  The only thing that had changed about them was their colour, they were all white now.  It was an oddly beautiful sight, but also rather unsettling.

    No! She must not allow herself to be distracted!  Firming her resolve, she focused on the cocoon that Adam was still within.

    Just like the plants, the chrysalis had become as white as bleached bones, while the sofa it had been laying on seemed to have mostly collapsed into rust and dust.  Its remains still served to act as a cushion for the cocoon, but it looked as though the slightest touch would cause it to crumble apart.

    Hadriel was already standing over it, an expression of concentration on her face as she held both her palms down over the white chrysalis.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, is he hurt?¡±

    ¡°No, I can feel nothing that suggests anything amiss within him,¡± the angel replied, not taking her eyes from the cocoon before her, ¡°In fact, the energies that were running wild seem to have settled down considerably.  It is not ideal, but it is a vast improvement.¡±

    The words were positive, yet Joan heard something in them, an undertone of . . . worry?  Dissatisfaction?

    ¡°What is wrong?¡±

    Her question seemed to take the angel by surprise.  She recovered quickly though, her face settling back into the calm composure that the French saint was becoming familiar with.

    ¡°It is not wrong, merely . . . unexpected.  The flows of energy that he has absorbed have been taken into his body, but they have sunk in far deeper than I would have expected them to.  It is not necessarily a bad thing, but I am uncertain of how it will affect his Awakening.¡±

    Joan knew enough about Awakenings to understand that this one had become something just short of a complete disaster.  Still, she had high hopes that the angel¡¯s intervention had improved the situation.

    ¡°How much longer until he completes his Awakening?¡±

    ¡°It should be any time now,¡± the angel replied, turning back to the cocoon. ¡°All that remains is for him to wake up and-¡±

    *CRACK*

    The sound that interrupted her was something akin to hearing dry plaster break, but there was also a sharp edge to it that made Joan think of breaking glass.  As her eyes darted back to the chrysalis, she saw that it was now shaking, a long split having appeared along one end.  There was a moment of silence, then another cracking sound as the cocoon shuddered again, this time more forcefully.

    That was about all that the remains of the sofa could endure.  With a sound like dry sand being poured, the piece of furniture collapsed sideways, spilling the chrysalis away from the heavenly agents and onto the white grass.  Both of them moved forwards, if only to make sure that the cocoon was safe, but before they could reach it there was another loud crack, and the sound of something large moving.  There was a brief pause, then another crack, this time even louder, and the sound of a large object moving around repeated itself.

    The two servants of the Almighty had paused at the sounds, Hadriel hovering in mid-air while Joan had been in mid-step.  With a certain level of caution, they moved past the crumbling remains of the sofa and got a clear view of the cocoon.

    The cocoon that was now reduced to shattered remnants.

    These remains still lay upon the slowly moving form beneath them, but they did little to hide the most glaring physical change that her charge had undergone. Changes she had not expected.

    Looking over to the side she saw that Hadriel had a . . . complicated expression on her face.  There was relief, joy and pride there, but at the same time, there was fear, envy, disdain, and even a hint of . . . revulsion?  That made no sense, how could all those be present together?  And why?  The positive emotions she could understand, but the negative ones bemused her.  Why would an angel of the Lord react in such a way to what Adam had become?

    ¡°We . . . we should get him inside,¡± she suggested, shelving her thoughts away for later and focusing upon her charge or now. ¡°He will wish to cleanse himself as soon as he can.  And don some clothes.¡±

    Yes, that was something that was becoming increasingly clear as Adam slowly moved amidst the remains of the chrysalis. What he had been wearing had not survived whatever transition he had undergone.  He moved again . . . and Joan blushed slightly as she averted her eyes.  It was nothing she hadn¡¯t seen before, after all, she had once had a brother, and her home had not been a large one.  Then there had been the jailors at Rouen that had forced themselves upon her during the days of her final captivity.  Yes, she was more than passingly familiar with the bodies of men, but Adam was . . .

    Mentally she let out a disgusted snort, irritated with herself for acting like some blushing maid at a time like this.  Currently, she should be more concerned with tending to her charge, not being distracted by her own petty issues!

    Stepping close she picked up the slowly moving form of Adam in her arms.  It was a bit difficult, given the new additions to his form, but after shifting her arms about a couple of times she found the best grip with which to balance him and slowly began to make her way towards the farmstead.  Curiously he stopped moving about as soon as she picked him up, though whether that was because he felt safe with her or because he was simply too tired to move anymore was unclear.

    As she carried him, she noticed that the few bits of the cocoon that still clung to him were falling apart, seemingly drying up and flaking away into little more than dust.  For a moment she considered coming back after she had taken him inside, seeing if she could gather up all the remains and secure them.  Something like that, the remnants of the Awakening of such a powerful demigod, had to have some sort of magical use or significance. Possibly as reagents, or something similar.  However even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it.  Already the powered remains that fell from Adam as she walked were being picked up by the breeze and carried away, and the same was almost certainly true of the remains behind her.  She supposed that if honoured Hadriel possessed sufficient skill with wind and air magic then it could be used to gather all the remnants up, but she was unsure if even that would really matter at this point.

    As if to confirm her thoughts a sudden breeze ran through the area, setting the white plants to swaying and scattering what flaking remains had been on Adam¡¯s form.  No doubt the remains behind her had likewise been scattered, making any thoughts of collecting them a laughable prospect.

    Then she froze in mid-step, before spinning in place to face the angel behind her.

    ¡°We have to leave, immediately!  The flare of his power was like a signal to any who might be watching!  Even if it were not pursued by the gods, every mortal agency in the world will seek to track that display of power back to its source!  We shall need to leave immediately!¡±

    As she spoke the resurrected soul was mentally evaluating how much she could do and in how short a time.  If they were swift, then they would be able to pack some essentials before they left.  If she were to use her ability to take on the powers of an angel, then they would be able to make considerable distance with minimal effort.  Once they had found a safe place, she would be able to contact the mortal agents that had helped her in the past.  It might take some time, but a new base of operations could be established, though it was unlikely to be as well prepared, stocked, or situated as the farmhouse was.

    Joan felt a slight frown touch her face as she thought of leaving.  This place had never been intended to serve as a long-term base of operations, but in the past weeks, she¡¯d grown somewhat fond of the old building.

    ¡°I . . . do not think that will be needed after all.¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s voice sounded slightly distracted, and the French saint turned to look at her.  The red-winged angel had a somewhat unfocused look to her eyes, as though her thoughts were turned inwards rather than towards the world about her.  However, this only lasted a handful of seconds before her gaze sharpened again and fixed on Joan.

    ¡°We have been fortunate.  When the sheer scope of the mortal¡¯s Awakening flare was realized several of the other angels operating on the mortal plane took appropriate action.  The Higher Heavens have acted swiftly.  They have just informed me that they have cast a Hallowed Sanctuary upon this location.¡±

    ¡°A Hallowed Sanctuary?¡±

    Joan had no idea what that was, but she could guess.  The angels of Heaven possessed their own power, their own magic, and she knew that Sanctuaries were spells of the type that affected large areas.  They could create areas that healed those in them, that protected from external forces, that prohibited actions or powers within their area.  She knew little of them because even in her angelic state she had little aptitude for magic beyond the power intrinsic to her transformation.  She was skilled in the use of light and air as weapons and tools, but she had little talent in their more subtle uses.  This made her wonder how this spell would aid them.

    ¡°It is a powerful spell of the Grand-class,¡± Hadriel explained. ¡°It will encompass this domicile and the area for miles about, easily enough to contain all the area that has been changed by his Awakening.  The Hallowed Sanctuary will keep any from without from seeing or interacting with anything within it.  Even if an army comes to investigate this area, they shall find nothing out of the ordinary.  They shall find only an empty farmhouse and normal fields, no evidence at all that anything of note occurred here.¡±

    ¡°But . . . we are here.¡±

    Joan didn¡¯t fully understand how this spell would deceive the mortals that were sure to come.  Would it influence their memories?  That might work in the short term, but the new machines and devices of the world were not so susceptible to mind tricks, and it would not be long before the discrepancies were noticed.

    ¡°The Sanctuary is more powerful than that,¡± the heavenly soldier assured her. ¡°It creates a false world that those who enter it will find in place of what is really here.  Even the mechanical eyes that the mortals have placed in the sky will only see what the Sanctuary allows them to see.  As for those of greater power, it will conceal us for a time, but that time is limited to less than a turning of the moon.  Once that time has elapsed, we shall need to move to another location.¡±

    The resurrected soul nodded and resumed her walk back to the farmhouse, her mind already taking this new information into account as she constructed new plans.  Less than a month was not an ideal amount, but it was far better than what she had thought they¡¯d have to work with a few moments ago.

    This grace period would be enough to allow Adam to grow accustomed to whatever powers he might have gained.  It would also allow for combat training, and for him to grow used to fighting foes of supernatural power.  Having Hadriel here for the latter would be a boon, as it would mean Joan would not need to assume her angelic form for such training, a power she preferred to keep in reserve against any potential crisis.

    Relieved, Joan turned her mind away from the troubles of tomorrow to worry about a more immediate issue, namely, how to get Adam through the farmstead¡¯s front door, given his new condition.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The first thing I saw as I lifted eyelids that seemed to have anvils attached to them, was the white ceiling of my room, a sight I¡¯d grown to be familiar with over the last few days.  For a moment I just stared up at it, my brain not yet awake enough to start working properly.  Soon enough though, something clicked into place, and I became aware of a damp cloth running across my stomach.  There wasn¡¯t anything special about it, but the cool feel of it was enough to let me know that I was no longer dreaming.  Moving a neck that felt like it had somehow petrified, I turned to see that Joan was sitting by the side of my bed applying the cloth to my bare chest.

    . . . hang on a second!

    My thoughts stuttered as I took note of certain feelings.  Okay, it wasn¡¯t just a bare chest that I had to deal with, I could feel a distinct lack of clothing on any part of me at all!  Thankfully my lower half seemed to be covered by a bedsheet, but beneath it, I was painfully aware that I seemed to lack any sort of clothing.

    Great!  I was naked in bed and getting what was essentially a sponge bath from Joan.  I think I¡¯d had a couple of dreams that went like this, probably brought on by a combination of the intense training and my constant proximity to a young woman that looked like she could be a supermodel if she so wished.  I think I read somewhere that being in danger tends to up the libido somewhat, an instinctual response meant to improve the odds of leaving offspring before dying.  I guess constantly having that sword swung at me hard enough to bruise or even break bones had a similar result, hence my dreams.  That was my story, and I was sticking with it!

    Of course, in those dreams, I didn¡¯t normally feel too lethargic to move, and Joan tended to be dressed in something more . . . interesting than the sensible plain dress she was currently wearing in place of her armour.  With that in mind, I was going to have to accept that this was reality, rather than a product of my subconscious.

    Having come to that conclusion the next thought that struggled through my muddy mind was to wonder what the hell was going on.

    It was at that point that the full recollection of what had happened came roaring back.  The ritual, the attack, getting hurt, the explosion, those weird dreams that were seared into my memory with apparently crystal clarity!  As the memories hit, they must have triggered a spike of adrenaline, because I could feel the lethargy burning off as I tried to sit up.

    ¡°Wha . . . wha ¡®appened?¡±

    My words came out slurred, my tongue feeling dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth.  Still, it must have been semi-intelligible, because Joan looked up, her face breaking into a smile as she saw I was awake.

    ¡°Adam, welcome back to the waking world.  How do you feel?  Is there any pain?¡±

    ¡°I . . . No,¡± The response was more reflex than anything else, but to my surprise, as I said it, I found it to be true.  ¡°No, I ¡®eel . . . goo¡¯.¡±

    It was the truth.  I was expecting to wake up to bruises and wounds after what had happened, but instead, there was no pain at all.  I felt a little weak, but it was already starting to fade, leaving me feeling rested.  My vision was still a bit on the blurry side, but that was clearing up with every blink of my eyes.  I was a bit muzzy, but even that was disappearing, my thoughts clearing up quickly.

    I tried to sit up but felt something pulling at me, keeping me from moving.  I wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was, but it was almost as though something was tied to my back and had become caught on the bed.  I moved to try to see what it was but then got distracted as I looked down at my arm.

    We see ourselves every day, we know ourselves instinctively.  If there¡¯s something different, even if it is something small such as a scab or a pimple, we can tell that.  I knew that there was something different, even before I looked down at myself.  I tried to see what it was, but my eyes were still blurred by sleep.  Instead, I shut them again and tried to centre myself.

    ¡°Doucement, take your time,¡± Joan¡¯s voice was like a rock in a turbulent river, something to grab hold of and anchor me. ¡°You have been through much, Adam.  Take this slowly, and accustom yourself to your changes and power.  You do not need to rush this, you have time.¡±

    Alright, I knew that I could do this, I simply had to give myself time to adjust.  I should have known that this whole thing of becoming a demigod wouldn¡¯t go completely smoothly, but I hadn¡¯t been expecting this.  On the other hand, what had I been expecting?  A massive power-up coupled with a blazing aura of power and inexplicably spikey blond hair?  Well, maybe, honestly, I hadn¡¯t really known what was coming, or how it might change me.

    . . . Change me.

    Joan had said I had to accustom myself to my changes, to what changes was she referring?  I¡¯d seen something, hadn¡¯t I?

    Panic started to flood through me as I wondered just how I¡¯d changed.  There were rumours on the internet about something like that, unsubstantiated, but always popping up. Things like the child of some sea god getting his powers and then finding his limbs having been turned into tentacles, his body altering and him ending up looking like some sort of monster.  Had that happened to me?  Was I some sort of freak?

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    My protector¡¯s hand on my shoulder gave me pause, but then I kept moving.

    ¡°M-mirror . . .¡± I mumbled as I tried to rise. ¡°I wan ¡®o see wa I ¡®m.¡±

    My voice was still slurred, my tongue might have come unglued, but it still felt like it was asleep.  Still, it was enough to get my words across, because Joan removed her hand and leant back.

    ¡°Are you certain?  Wouldn¡¯t it be best to rest for some time yet?  You may not hurt, but you still need to recover.¡±

    I shook my head, even though doing so caused the world to momentarily swim before I recovered.  Things came back into focus as I saw her slowly nod.

    ¡°Very well.  But be sure not to strain yourself.¡±

    Slowly I pushed myself along the bed, not trying to get out on either side, but rather coming off the end while keeping the sheet around me.  There was still that pulling at my back like I was carrying something large and cumbersome, but I didn¡¯t turn to look back, rather I kept going, my eyes focused on the end of the bed as though it were some distant goal I was aiming for.

    I¡¯m not quite sure how long it took, it felt like ages but was probably only a minute or two.  It wasn¡¯t hard really, just slow as my body refused to respond as fast as I wanted, meaning that I had to be careful in my movements.  When I tried to go too fast, I nearly lost my balance and had to take a moment to reorient myself.  However, I was getting better, I could feel it, and by the time I reached the end of the bed, I felt stable enough to balance on my own two feet.

    Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and turned to face the large mirrors that made up the sliding doors of the built-in wardrobe.  This was it, the moment of truth.  I was going to find out just what getting the power I needed to have a chance to stand up and survive in this new world had cost me.  Doing my best to keep panic from overwhelming me I opened my eyes and stared at myself in the mirror!

    Was that really me?  I had wings!

    For a moment everything else seemed to pale into insignificance.  I was doing my best to try and treat this as rationally as I could, to keep my head over the tide of emotions, both good and bad, that might¡¯ve swamped me.   I wanted to keep my composure, and I had to be as analytical as possible if I wanted to manage it.  Mentally I repeated that to myself over and over, that I had to treat this as though I was examining . . . what?  Really, the thought loomed in my mind, what could I possibly be examining that came close to this?!

    My eyes closed and I took a deep breath, in and out, in and out.  That¡¯s it, I told myself, I had to be calm, collected, in control.  After a few breaths, I felt better, ready to face my changes.

    I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection.

    Once more, the first things that my eyes focused on were my new wings.  They were huge, big enough that I guessed each could easily reach over ten feet in length at full extension.  They were feathered, but far different from any bird I had ever seen.

    They joined to my body just below my shoulder blades and connected to muscles that I hadn¡¯t possessed before.  They were also narrower close to my body but flared out and grew as they got further away.  The parts of the wings closer to my back were about a foot wide and grew wider as the wing extended away from my body.  The main feathers were enormous, making the wing easily big enough to cover most of my body.  Each feather was the size of a sword blade and was a pristine ivory white.

    Actually, as I looked closer, they weren¡¯t just ivory-like; they seemed to be made of ivory.  The other feathers on the wings, the ones closer to me, were soft as one would expect, but of the larger feathers on the main wing, not all of them were.  Several of the feathers that made up the wing tips were not formed of soft quills and veins; rather they were composed of something far harder.  Folding my left wing so that the wingtip came closer I gently ran my fingertips along the surface of the odd feathers.

    They felt hard, but not like metal or stone.  Whatever they were made of was organic, so maybe a type of ivory or enamel?  Whatever they were, they were tough and sharp.  Looking closer I could see that other feathers on my wings were the same, in fact . . .

    Carefully I folded my wings in, not behind my back but rather in front of me.  The movement was halting and slow as I tried to move muscles I hadn¡¯t had the day before, but bit by bit I managed it.  As I did so it occurred to me that despite their size they weren¡¯t as heavy as they should be.  Even if the bones were hollow just the feathers should have weighed more, especially with those hard ones there.

    Yes, I could see that, as the wings formed a sort of cocoon, the outside of them used the hardened feathers to form shields.  Spreading my wings again I watched how they moved, and felt the strength there.  I think I read somewhere that a swan¡¯s wings are strong enough to break a man¡¯s arm if they hit just right.  These wings, my wings, they were far stronger than any waterfowl, and with those hardened feathers . . .

    These weren¡¯t just wings, they were weapons.

    Actually, no, not just weapons, they were shields as well.

    That . . . could be useful.  Ideas spun through my head, a mixture of scenes from films, comics and my own imagination.  If these new appendages could act as both swords and shields, then that gave me a whole bunch of options.

    I shook myself from my thoughts as I realized I had been so focused on my wings that I hadn¡¯t stopped to take a good look at myself.  Yes, the great white pinions were impressive and eye-catching, but there had been other changes.

    The first thing to jump out at me was what had happened to my body.  I¡¯d always been thin, but I¡¯d never done anything like weightlifting or bodybuilding.  Now though, I looked like an actor getting ready to play the shirtless part of a steamy romance, with washboard-defined abs, cut pecks and ripped biceps.  And I had the benefit of them all without makeup or CGI.  All in all, I looked ready to play the part of a superhero on-screen.  There was muscle and definition, but no bulk or bulging.

    Even my skin was different, darker than it had been.  I hadn¡¯t been too pale before, I spent enough time outdoors that I got a fair bit of sunshine, but this was different.  Now, my skin was dark, the sort of deep bronzed tan that British people normally dreamed of, but never quite got.

    The second thing that caught my attention was my face.  It . . . it was hard to describe.  It wasn¡¯t as though it was no longer me, I could still recognize myself clearly, but at the same time, I was different.  Every flaw, every imperfection, was gone.  The scar on my left eyebrow from a biking crash, the very slight crook in my nose from a childhood fight, all of it was gone.  Even my teeth were picture perfect, the slight chip on my upper left front tooth restored to mint condition.

    It was more than just that though, even at my absolute best I had never looked this good.  It wasn¡¯t any one thing, no single change that I could put my finger on.  Instead, it was as though everything, every feature, every muscle, even the skeletal structure beneath the skin, all of it had been refined, perfected to the absolute limit.  I could recognize myself as me, but at the same time, I was as far from who I had been as could be.  There were no blemishes, no moles, no old scars, nothing, it was as though I had been photoshopped by a genius, and then the picture had been made into reality.

    Quite simply, I was beautiful.

    I know that that isn¡¯t the kind of description that you would expect a guy to use on himself, but the fact was that handsome, good-looking, or even gorgeous just didn¡¯t cover it.  This . . . this was the kind of looks I¡¯d expect from such mythological men as Adonis or Narcissus, not me!

    The third thing that jumped out at me was my hair.  I liked my hair.  Now though, it was changed, and I wasn¡¯t too sure how I felt about it.

    Tentatively I reach up to run my fingers through the now absolutely snow-white hair.  It felt softer, but was still just as thick.  It felt just as it always had, perhaps a bit longer than I remembered, but aside from that there was no real difference.

    More than that though, I¡¯d just got out of bed, so my newly white hair should have been a mess.  Instead, it was perfectly styled.  Experimentally I shook my head, deliberately trying to shake it out of order, but somehow it seemed to refuse to budge.  Oh, it did bounce around like normal hair, but somehow it seemed to settle back into photoshopped perfection as soon as I stopped.

    Then I noticed my eyes as I looked closer into the mirror.  My irises had been hazel before, but now they were golden, the black of the pupils framed by the new colour in an almost ornamental way.  It could have looked just plain weird, but it contrasted well with the snowy hair.

    All in all, I was a new me, an improved version of myself.  As I looked into the mirror I couldn¡¯t help but have an absurd thought as I saw my new appearance and colourings.  Beautiful, dark skinned, white hair, golden eyes, was I turning into a fantasy dark elf?  The idea was crazy, but . . . no, elves were normally depicted as slim and willowy, and I was ripped!

    Reaching up I poked at my chest, amazed at the way it felt so much . . . firmer than before.  Even the skin felt different, thicker, and tougher.  Curious I pinched myself just above my left armpit.  It was strange, even though I could feel the pressure there was very little in the way of pain, even though I was squeezing hard enough that I should have been making myself wince a bit.  Instead, there was nothing, it just felt as though I was holding the flesh between my fingers rather than trying to pinch it.  I let go, and the skin just smoothed out, no redness, no mark, nothing.

    Taking a step back I looked at myself in the mirrored door once more.  More than an elf I looked . . . well, I looked like an angel.  There wasn¡¯t any other way to put it.

    It was at about this point that the sheet about my waist slipped since neither of my hands were holding it up.  Looking down I reached to grab it, only to notice other changes.

    My legs, and the rest of my body, now that I came to look at it, were smooth and hairless as a freshly waxed model.  My newly darkened skin wasn¡¯t simply smooth but also flawless.  I moved to pull the sheet up when I noticed that . . . yes, I really had received an upgrade everywhere, it seemed.

    Yup, that was going to do wonders for my self-image!

    My thoughts on this happy development were quickly sent spiralling over the edge of a mental cliff as the slight scuff of shoes on wood behind me reminded me I wasn¡¯t alone in this room.

    ¡°Ah . . . pardonnez-moi . . . I . . . I shall just leave you alone.  You seem to be . . . better . . . much better, so . . . so I shall . . .¡±

    There were no more words, instead, I just heard hurried steps and the closing of the door as I remained frozen in place.  With the horrible inevitability of a collapsing cliff, the pieces came together in my mind and realized just what the hell had just happened.

    Point one; I had completely forgotten that Joan was there.  Seeing me so changed, seeing the wings, seeing my new looks, it had all just swept over me, leaving no room for thinking of anything else.

    Point two; I was now unquestionably beautiful, and that was not as comforting a thought as you might think.  I consider myself a comfortably straight guy, but even so, I found my reflection compelling.  I made a mental note to remember the story of Narcissus, I did not what end up going down that route.

    Point three; I had just bent over to pick up the sheet.  While Joan was behind me.  While looking as I now do.

    Quite simply, I had just unintentionally mooned the patron saint of France with my new and improved butt.

    Wonderful!

 Chapter 15: The New You: Part Two

    I felt my face burning with both embarrassment and humiliation I spun to face the room¡¯s chest of drawers, intent on finding some underpants and trousers as soon as I possibly could.  But in my hurry, I forgot a very important detail, I now had a new pair of limbs to worry about. My wings, which were still half extended.

    The only reason that one of my wings didn¡¯t hit the mirror I¡¯d been standing in front of was that my other one hit the bed first.  My momentum was completely arrested as some reflex that was completely new to me caused me to instinctively brace my wing.  The sudden shift caught me off balance and I stumbled to the side, my bare feet failing to find proper traction on the dry floor.  As I fell all I could do was close my eyes and instinctively bring my hands up to try and cushion my fall.

    And then I waited.

    And waited some more.

    Finally, it occurred to me that regardless of adrenaline speeding up my perception it should not be taking me this long to hit the ground, so I cautiously opened my eyes and took a look.  What I saw was . . . unexpected, to say the least.

    My feet had gone out from under me as I fell, and my wings were half unfolded behind me, but none of that really mattered.  What mattered was that I was hovering in mid-air, about three feet off the ground, and it was definitely not my new wings that were keeping me up!

    Of course, as soon as I saw what was happening, I fell to the floor, whatever was keeping me up gone.

    For a moment I just lay there, then I tried to get up, only for my wings to instinctively shift, sending me down to all fours as my centre of balance shifted again.  It took me a couple of seconds to steady myself, then, with plenty of humiliation burning in my heart, I crawled over to the chest of draws and pulled out some underwear and a folded pair of jeans.  Struggling into them was a chore, but in the end, I leaned my back and wings against the foot of the bed and was able to stabilize myself enough to wrestle them on.  They¡¯d been a bit baggy before, but now they felt almost uncomfortably tight.

    Having restored at least some of my dignity, I got back to the task of trying to stand up without falling over.  I knew I could do it.  I already had once, but ironically, it was before I realize my wings were there.  Now that I knew about them, now I was thinking about them, it was throwing me off.

    It¡¯s impossible to describe how it felt to suddenly have such large new limbs.  We go through our entire lives getting used to our bodies.  It takes something like two years to learn how to walk and run properly, then it''s years more to get doing things like fine control and sports.  Getting some body additions that are completely new though, that¡¯s more than enough to throw off all those years of learning.

    Had anyone been there to record my antics I¡¯m sure that it would have become one of those instant viral hits on the internet.  Seriously, an apparent angel unable to do something as simple as turning to face the door due to uncooperative wings would have been pure comedy gold, I¡¯m sure.

    In the end, I managed to work out how to fold them.  However, that was only after I managed to leave a couple of gashes in the wooden floor, and took a sizeable chunk off the side of the chest of draws.  These little accidents showed me that the feathers I¡¯d noticed earlier were every bit as sharp as I¡¯d thought they¡¯d be.  Granted, I hadn¡¯t had a chance to really test them out, but the way they sliced up some fairly hefty oak wood furniture left me thinking that as far as a normal person would be concerned I pretty much had a bunch of swords attached to the ends of my new limbs.

    Still, strange though they were, they were a part of me.  Pulling them closed was easy enough after a few tries, but I got the impression that it wasn¡¯t the natural state they were meant to be in.  It was kind of like clenching your hands into fists, not hard to do, once you had the trick of it, but if you kept doing it then it started to feel uncomfortable.  Oh, there are circumstances where your hands just naturally close, but for the most part, having one¡¯s hands half open is the more comfortable, natural position.

    Still, with them folded against my back I was able to go out onto the terrace outside my room.  I figured it¡¯d be more sensible to get out there and ask Joan to use her magic to help me get down to the ground than it would be to use the stairway.  I didn¡¯t want to essentially nail myself into place if I lost control of my wings part way down.  The terrace was also pretty sizeable, large enough that I could at least spread my wings without hitting something.

    Looking out I could see that the sun wasn¡¯t too high in the sky, so I was guessing it was early morning.  Seeing that prompted me to look down at my wrist, only to see that my watch was gone.  By the looks of things either it hadn¡¯t survived whatever change I had undergone, or Joan had taken it off me along with my other clothes.  Well, wasn¡¯t that a thought; Joan undressing me.

    That particular thought lasted right up until I looked out at the view from my terrace, and then I was just confused.   I had stood out here several times over the last few days, and I think that I would have noticed if all the grass had been white.  So, the question that ran through my head was why?

    It was strange, but still quite a sight.  For all of its new and unusual colour, the field that extended from the back of the farmhouse remained vibrant and alive.  I could see birds sitting in some of the nearby trees, and insects moving in the grass, all of them seemingly unbothered by the change in the plant life around them.  Seeing it all I found myself wondering how it had happened, had it been a result of the attack?  Had something else happened?

    It was at that point that I noticed how good my eyesight was. I¡¯d never needed glasses in my life, but I tended to have a bit of trouble seeing things a distance away.  That I was now able to see the far-off birds and the tiny insects could only mean my eyes had also been upgraded.

    For a moment I just stood there, fascinated by the way that even long distant things came into focus with remarkable ease.  It wasn¡¯t as though I¡¯d suddenly developed the eyes of a hawk, but I guessed that I had to be pushing the limits of the human eye.  For a few moments, I just enjoyed the novelty of being able to see such distant things so clearly.

    My eyes flicked from a grasshopper to a passing bird, then settled on a rabbit that came hopping through the white grass.  The creature was probably a young one, only freshly having left its warren, because it was smaller than I would have expected, and had that adorable fluffy look.

    Fascinated by how clearly I could see it, I leant forwards for a better look without thinking.  Unfortunately, it turned out I had gained new reflexes because, in response to my movement, my wings half unfurled straight back.

    This wouldn¡¯t have been so bad, had not my right wing hit the edge of the small table that had been set up behind me.  The table was small, but it was solid and set up against the wall next to the door to my room. My wing was strong, and I was off balance, and since the table couldn¡¯t move, I was the one that got shifted.

    Right over the terrace railing.

    I just had time for a startled yelp before the world tipped over and I was plummeting down towards the small patio that had been set up behind the farmhouse.  I had a moment of confusion, then threw up my arms to protect my face as I saw the flagstones of the patio rushing to meet my face.  Then there was a sharp jolt that seemed to come from nowhere, and then there was nothing.

    Cautiously lowering my arms I realized that I was once again hovering in mid-air, apparently defying gravity without any idea of how I was managing it, my face only about a foot and a half from the ground, my legs flailing in the air, and my wings spread like a pigeon that had flown into a window.

    And I was in this . . . less than dignified position when I heard someone speaking to me.

    ¡°I see.  Clearly, there is much that you need to learn.¡±

    The voice wasn¡¯t one that I was familiar with, and I tried to turn to face it, only to find I had no idea of how to get down from my ridiculous position.  All I managed was to flail about some more, probably looking like someone that didn¡¯t know how to swim who had been thrown in at the deep end of the pool, only in mid-air rather than the water.

    ¡°Adam! Adam, calm down!¡±

    Now, that was a voice I recognized.  Craning my head to the side I could make out her feet and the hem of her dress, but that was it.  Still, her presence was enough to calm the anxiety I¡¯d felt at hearing an unfamiliar voice.  If she was here, then I was safe.  Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself before speaking.

    ¡°Okay!  Okay, I think I¡¯m better.  But I don¡¯t know how to-¡±

    Gravity suddenly regained control over me and let me complete the fall.  Sure, it was now only less than two feet as opposed to more than ten, but it was still enough to knock the breath out of me.  In truth it was more surprising than painful, the fall catching me unawares, but despite falling onto hard stone it didn¡¯t hurt as much as I thought it should.

    I tried to scramble to my feet, but once again found the new wings throwing my balance off, causing me to almost totter over as soon as I had regained a standing position.  The frustration of it was really starting to get to me!  Sure, I had received a very welcome upgrade, and these wings might be of use in the future, but for the moment they seemed more trouble than they were worth!

    ¡°Do not attempt to simply use your body to maintain your balance, use your power to root yourself in place until you choose to move.¡±

    ¡°And how do I do that?!¡±

    I snapped the question with more irritation than I should have. I turned, doing my best to keep my balance this time, so I was able to see who had spoken.

    And what a sight she was!

    Up until now, Joan had been the most beautiful woman I¡¯d ever met in person, but the figure before me was every bit her equal, although their looks were so different.  Joan was lovely in a way that seemed to shine, a beauty that had a charisma to it that made you pay attention to her and what she said.  This new person, this literal angel, made me think of fire.  Her hair, her wings, the force of her personality, all of it made me think of something that was burning, radiating both heat and power.

    She was also wearing what amounted to only a bikini and some jewellery.

    Let me be clear on something, Joan was beautiful, but naturally quite modest.  She wore either her armour or a plain dress.  Neither of these choices showed her off all that much.  Sure, the armour was close fitting enough to show her slim figure, but that was all secondary to practicality.  Joan was attractive enough to make the armour look good, not the other way around.  As for her preferred casual garb, it did her no favours.  It was practical and, I imagined, comfortable, but it was of a very old-fashioned cut and was only a tad better than wearing a large potato sack.

    This angel . . . well, seeing her caused my mental train of thought to swerve off its tracks, careen over the edge of a cliff and go crashing down into a bottomless abyss of confused and steamy, thoughts.

    Where Joan was modest in her looks this red-winged woman practically hit you over the head with them.  It was like coming face to face with a superstar swimsuit model, one in her ¡®work¡¯ clothes, right after coming out of your home¡¯s front door.  The shock of it just took you off your feet, metaphorically speaking, of course.  Slim limbs, toned abs, cleavage that could only be described as magnificent, all of it was right there in front of me and on techicolour display.  It was hardly a surprise that any thoughts of annoyance or irritation were pretty much knocked out of my head.

    ¡°You do not know how to use your power?¡±

    It took me a moment to register the words she was saying, mainly due to most of my brain being occupied with trying to sear the image before me into my memory to ensure it would never fade away.  I tried to answer, but coherent words wouldn¡¯t come out.

    ¡°Uh . . . Wha . . . ?  I . . . what?¡±

    Yeah, not the best first impression I could have made.  In return the red-winged angel before me, and what else could she be other than an angel given that she had a halo, looked at me with an expression I thought I had escaped when I finished school.  It was the look that mixed disappointment, pity, and a dash of irritation, and it left me feeling like I was eleven years old again and had given the wrong answer in front of the whole class.

    ¡°You should intuitively know how to use the divine powers that have awakened within you.  Can you not do this?¡±

    I . . . was perhaps not in the best frame of mind to analyse the importance of what she had just said.  I mean, I registered that there was something should pay attention to, but I was not having an easy time getting my brain to fire on all cylinders.  I had just run an emotional gauntlet ranging from excitement, dread, bewilderment, embarrassment, apprehension, humiliation, getting more than a bit turned on, and then heading right back to humiliation.  After all that I think I was entitled to being a bit slow off the mark.

    I managed to pull myself together enough to turn to Joan and ask the first question that came to mind.

    ¡°Joan . . . who¡¯s this?!¡±

    The blonde warrior¡¯s eyes widened as her cheeks reddened before turning to indicate the angel.  As she did so her expression became one of reverence, similar, almost like when she spoke of God.

    ¡°Of course, you have not been introduced.  Adam, allow me to introduce you to honoured Hadriel, a soldier of Heaven and an Angel of the Lord.  In the wake of the attack that was launched against us during your Awakening ritual, she was sent by the High Heavens to aid in your recovery, training, and mission.¡±

    Oh.  Well, that explained at least some of it.  Wait!  A thought rose in my mind.

    ¡°Recovery?  Did something go wrong?¡±

    ¡°Yes, a great deal went wrong with your Awakening, and we are only now seeing the results,¡± Hadriel spoke up as she drifted forwards.

    It was only at that point that I realized her feet weren¡¯t touching the ground, instead, she was levitating a couple of inches above it.  These were only peripheral details though; I was more interested in what she was saying.

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®a great deal went wrong¡¯?¡±

    At least this time I wasn¡¯t stuttering.  The implication of what she had just said had been as sobering as a bucket of iced water being poured over me.  It was difficult for any sort of lust to last in the face of something like that.

    ¡°Due to the attack by the demon hosts that you faced, the ritual meant to aid in your Awakening was heavily disrupted.  As you took in many different types of energies and used them as a catalyst to Awaken your own power, you were heavily injured, forcing your body to take measures to preserve your life.  This led to you entering a state of slow transition, a transition further slowed by the vastly unbalanced energies competing for dominance within you.  Once in this state your eventual transformation was never in doubt, nor was your life in danger, but the process could have taken weeks or even months to complete, so I was tasked with aiding you.¡±

    She gestured to herself, then indicated Joan who seemed to almost be standing to attention.

    ¡°Jeanne d¡¯Arc is a fine warrior and has risen high amongst the mortal souls that dwell in the High Heavens, but she was not equipped to deal with the complications to your Awakening.  Additionally, the level of scrutiny that you have been subjected to, even before your Awakening, by enemy powers is greater than was anticipated.  I have been selected to aid you both in completing your Awakening, training you afterwards, and aiding you in the battles to come.¡±

    She stared down at me, her gaze evaluating.  For my part, I did my best not to get fascinated by the brilliance of those aquamarine eyes and instead focused on what she had just said.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°So, you fixed what was wrong with my Awakening?  That¡¯s why I¡¯m awake again, right?¡±

    I felt my stomach sink as she shook her head, her eyes narrowing just a touch.

    ¡°Yes, but you do not know how to command the new powers that dwell within you, do you?¡±

    That sinking in my stomach . . . that had just become a yawning pit!  She was right, I had no idea how to do . . . anything.  I knew that for most demigods it was instinctive to know what they could do, how it just came to them as soon as they completed the change, but clearly, that wasn¡¯t the case where I was concerned.  I hadn¡¯t been awake as a demigod for long, but nothing was clicking into place, there were no new instincts or intuitive knowledge.

    And that scared me!

    I could feel panic starting to well up once more, but I refused to let it gain a foothold.  Instead, I focused on the one positive thing she¡¯d said.

    ¡°So, I do have power, right?  I just don¡¯t have the built-in understanding?¡±

    As I asked my questions my eyes flick back and forth between Joan and this Hadriel.  The angel was maintaining her slight frown, but there was something else to it now.  As for Joan, she was giving me an encouraging look, as though wordlessly telling me not to give up.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the heavenly soldier replied. ¡°Though there were complications there is absolutely no denying the power that now dwells within you.  I doubt there was a single deity on the mortal plane that didn¡¯t feel your power last night.¡±

    I had questions, but that particular statement was enough to throw me off track as I just stared at her.

    ¡°Uh . . . what?¡±

    ¡°Adam, I do not believe you understand just how great the power released by your Awakening was.  Look about you, all that has been turned white, that was caused simply by being in the presence of your Awakening.  The aura itself . . . it was so vast that I believe most of the planet was able to see it, and those that could not see it felt it.¡±

    Joan spoke with care, making sure I understood her.  Hadriel nodded and continued.

    ¡°I am uncertain as to just how much power you yourself possess, but the strength of that aura generated at your Awakening was enormous, on a par with what only a full-blooded god would normally be able to achieve.¡±

    My thoughts sort of froze for a moment. She¡¯d just said ¡®on a par with a god¡¯?  Me?  Really?

    ¡°Wait!  Hold on, does that mean that everyone knows where I am?¡±

    That had been one of the principal reasons for coming out here into the backwoods of France, the anonymity!  Had this aura thing sent up a signal flare telling every god in the world just where I was hiding?

    ¡°For the time being that is not a concern,¡±  Hadriel informed me. ¡°A Hallowed Sanctuary has been placed upon this dwelling and the nearby lands, a spell that will ensure your safety and privacy for almost a full turning of the moon.  In that time, we can focus upon doing what we can to mitigate this . . . complication.¡±

    The way she spoke was like Joan, in that there were no contractions or half words.  Every word was technically perfect, and her pronunciation was absolutely correct.  She had a very slight accent that I could not place, but which nonetheless lent her voice a touch of exotic glamour.

    Regardless of her compelling tone I was starting to feel talked down to, and I wasn¡¯t enjoying it.  I didn¡¯t think of myself as a proud or arrogant person, but condescension irritated me.  That wasn¡¯t what I was getting from her, but it was getting dangerously close.

    ¡°How do you fly?!¡±

    The question came out almost as a challenge, and it drew a slow look from the heavenly soldier.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, look, obviously I can fly somehow, and it doesn¡¯t need me to be flapping my wings,¡± Damn, that felt strange to say. ¡°So, it¡¯s got to have something to do with power, right?  So, how do you fly?  Do your wings even come into it, or are they just there for decoration?¡±

    There was a pause for a moment as she continued to look at me, her expression still difficult to pin down.

    ¡°I do not believe I could properly explain it,¡± She admitted. ¡°I am an angel, you are a mortal.  There are differences in our communication and knowledge base.¡±

    Okay, so I was being looked down on!  Fine, I could work with that. Carefully turning I faced away from Hadriel and looked straight at Joan.

    ¡°So how do you fly?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±  The French saint looked surprised that I was asking her.  Her eyes kept on flicking over to the angel as though she was afraid of offending her somehow, but I had no such hesitation.

    ¡°When you¡¯re an angel you can fly, how do you do it?  Can you describe it to me?¡±

    She paused before answering, and I could see some of the more familiar Joan flowing back into her.  Since she had introduced the newcomer my protector had been acting in a subordinate role to the angel.  I could see why she would, after all the Maiden of Orleans had always shown only the highest respect and reverence for God and all His angels.  All the same, it was something of a shock to see the normally confident and commanding young woman so willingly surrender to another authority.  Seeing her slipping once more into the role of the instructor put me at ease.

    ¡°Flight without the effort of your wings is achieved by both will and power, but it cannot simply be forced,¡± She explained, her words sounding as though they were a repeated lesson. ¡°You need to gather your power, and then distribute it throughout your form, then, when it fully permeates you, you must anchor it to a single point fixed at your centre of balance.  Once this is complete you shall be able to move your entire being while protecting yourself from the majority of the drawbacks from such forces as gravity and friction.¡±

    ¡°This power, how does it feel to you?¡±  I asked, hoping that with an example I might be able to find my own.

    ¡°For me . . .¡± Joan hesitated for a moment, then continued. ¡°For me, it is as though I can feel a minuscule portion of His power within me, one that answers my wishes and makes me more than I am.  It lets me heal, it lets me be stronger than a mortal, it, no, He lets me take on the guise and power of an angel, even if only for a short time!¡±

    That also made sense, since Joan had been a mortal then it only stood to reason that she would be able to sense the differences.  The problem was that since I¡¯d never been in God¡¯s presence, I was hardly going to be able to recognize it.  On the other hand, how hard could it be?

    Taking a deep breath, I did my best to sit down on the tiles beneath me.  It required a little trial and error with my wings, but eventually, I had them in a sort of half-spread position, parallel with the ground so that the sharp feathers would not catch on the ground, a position that let me sit cross-legged.  As I sat, I very carefully did not look at Hadriel, instead, I focused on Joan¡¯s encouraging face.  Seeing that, seeing the faith in her eyes, faith for both God and for me, I could easily understand how she had been able to rally a flagging country to win a war most thought all but lost.

    With a nod to her and another deep breath, I closed my eyes and resolved not to let her down.

    Meditation was something I knew the basics of thanks to my yoga enthusiast of a mum.  Amanda had seen how my first exams had been stressing me out, so she¡¯d taught me some basic exercises in focus and relaxation.  I admit, I¡¯d been sceptical when we first started, but to my surprise, it had helped.

    It wasn¡¯t anything particularly complex, but it was something that had occasionally helped me centre myself when I felt overwhelmed.  I figured that maybe I could use it as a starting point.

    The first thing I focused on was my breathing.  In through the nose, out through the mouth, ¡®form a cycle until it became comfortable¡¯, a measured repetition that didn¡¯t demand effort.  Then ¡®let your awareness of the breath expand through the body, notice how you feel¡¯. I could feel my own warmth, the heat of life that was there for every second of my conscious existence.

    Now, could I feel anything else?

    As I kept up my rhythmic breathing and relaxed further into the moment, I noticed that there was something there, something new.  It was difficult to describe, and I could reluctantly admit how Hadriel might have had trouble putting it into words, especially if it was something that she had always possessed.  It was not so much a sensation or feeling as it was . . . the shadow of one.  It was like seeing something, but only being able to tell where it was by the shadow it cast rather than by seeing the object itself.  There was something there, and I could only tell it was there because the things around it felt slightly off.  Well, that was the closest description I could manage.

    Whatever it was, I could now perceive it, however imperfectly, so the next step was to see if I could move it.

    That was harder, much harder.  At least with my new wings, I had the familiarity of knowing how to make muscles work.  This was completely different, almost alien.  I could sense it, but it was as though I couldn¡¯t reach it no matter how I tried.  Just forcing my will at it was like trying to make a pebble move by sheer force of will, regardless of my efforts the shadowed flow refused to budge.  I tried tensing the muscles around it to see if that did anything, but again there was no reaction.  In the end, I just focused in on the power I knew was there but could not directly perceive and just . . . kept mentally glaring at it.

    I was determined to make this work.  And, if I am to be truthful that determination was motivated in equal part by fear and pride.  Pride that I would not give in to whatever accident had robbed me of the normal control that other demigods enjoyed.  I refused to be lesser, to be inferior, not after coming as far as I had.  Fear, on the other hand, was far simpler.  I could remember those things that had attacked the ritual Joan had set up, I could remember their strength, their savagery, and I also remembered how the only thing that kept them from ripping me to shreds was that they had wanted me alive.  The thought of facing things like that again, without any power of my own, was terrifying in a way I¡¯d never experienced before.

    So, I stayed there, my eyes closed, breathing in and out, and remaining focused upon that elusive energy with all the laser-like intensity I could muster.

    I¡¯d never meditated quite like this before, I¡¯d sunk far deeper into my concentration than ever before.  Time . . . well, it didn¡¯t seem to matter anymore, awareness of it just drifted to the edge of my mind.  The stone I sat on faded away, the air about me was unimportant, and even the awareness of Joan and Hadriel faded from my consciousness.  All that mattered was the stubborn refusal of that unseen energy to-

    When I was about ten years old my Dad had bought me a picture book as a Christmas present.  The pictures in it were some of those artistic ones where if you look at it one way you can see one picture, but if you look at it in a different way you could see another one.  The pictures in this book began with simple pictures, such as the silhouette of two people facing each other forming a candlestick between them, and then grew progressively more complicated and harder to spot.  There had been eighty-seven pictures in that book, and I loved finding the hidden pictures in them.

    I spent ages carefully going through each picture and learning their hidden secrets.  But the last ten pages gave me real trouble.  Some of them had taken days to figure out, though that was mainly because I stubbornly refused to ask anyone for help.  Still, I worked my way through them all, up until the last one.  That final picture simply refused to yield its secrets to me, regardless of the ages I spent glaring at it.  Hours turned to days, and I eventually gave it up as a lost cause, but even so, I didn¡¯t look at the answer page.

    A few weeks later I stumbled across the book again and took another look at the last picture.  Maybe it was because I¡¯d taken a break and was looking at it with fresh eyes, but as soon as I saw the page I could see where I¡¯d gone wrong, and the hidden picture all but leapt out at me.  It had been a wonderful feeling, working out the puzzle, and all I¡¯d had to do was look at it in a slightly different way.

    What happened next felt just like that, only I didn¡¯t need a month-long break to make it happen.  The weird perception I¡¯d sunk into let me shift my perspective in some slight but fundamental way.  And just like that it all came into focus!

    I was aware of it all, the stream of energy running through me snapped into crystal clarity where before I¡¯d only been able to make out the edges. There was a thick mass of it in my chest, to the right of my heart and beneath the centre of my ribcage.  It was like a ball roughly the size of my fist and seemed to pulse in time to the beat of my heart.  Each time it pulsed I could feel energy rushing out of it, flowing through my body and then passing through me and out into the world about me.  It was more concentrated in places like the ball or knot I¡¯d noticed, but it also passed through every other part of my body as it spread out from me.  It wasn¡¯t moving uniformly though, instead, it seemed to have currents and eddies to it, in some places it flowed faster or smoother, while in others it seemed to pool into small pockets from which small trickles entered and exited.  The whole water analogy wasn¡¯t quite right though, it didn¡¯t explain the way that the energy moved in certain places.  In those places it was more like lightning, flashing along parts of my body so fast that it was only the constant passage of it that let me know what was happening.

    It was strange, it was beautiful, and it was baffling.

    As I took in the entire ¡®sight¡¯ before me I thought I understood what I was seeing.  This was mana, the supernatural force that all things generated.  With the return of the divinities knowledge of the supernatural had unsurprisingly grown to be of vital importance, and what concrete information was learned was almost always publicly released, so I knew what this was.

    Mana was something of a catch-all term for the myriad different forms of supernatural energy that permeated the world.  It wasn¡¯t simply the magic that humans could use, it was also the magic that sustained the fey, the celestial and infernal powers used by the ranks of heaven and hell, and even the divine potency of the different pantheons.  Rather than being magic itself, mana should be regarded as the source of all supernatural power.

    Ironically despite being where all power came from, mana had no single source of its own.  According to what was now known, mana is created by everything in existence, to one degree or another, simply by existing.  People create it, plants create it, rocks create it, the planet creates it, stars create it, and even the void between celestial bodies creates it, the only difference was in how much was produced by any given thing.

    All I knew about mana ran through my mind as I finally became able to perceive the energy flowing through me.  Was that big knot in my chest where it was generated?  Well, none of that was important right at that moment, instead, I was more focused on trying to carry out the suggestions Joan had given me.

    She¡¯d said to gather my power, then distribute it to my whole body before anchoring it in place to my centre of balance.  Alright, the first thing that I tried to do was to move the mana around so that the distribution of it in my body was more even.

    I reached for the energy, after all, if I could now properly sense the mana, then surely I could now get it to work for me, right?

    Wrong.

    Just like before the newly found energy refused to react to me, no matter what I did!  I tried to make it move, to flow faster, to do anything, but I might as well have been telling the sun to set in the east.  I could ¡®feel¡¯ my will, my mind, reaching out to it, but it was like trying to catch smoke or sunlight with my hands, there was nothing I could get a grip on.  Still, I kept at it, certain there was something I was missing.

    And I got nowhere.

    It was only when I realized I was starting to develop a pretty nasty headache that I finally decided to call it quits, at least for the time being.  I was going about it the wrong way, but my poor brain was too overworked to figure out why.  I needed to take a break recharge, and maybe question either Joan or Hadriel for some hints as to what I could do better.

    Leaving my meditation was faster than sinking into it.  Coming to terms with what I saw when I opened my eyes, on the other hand, was a different story

    It had been sort of midmorning when I fell off the balcony.  Now, the night was falling, and I could see the first stars beginning to show themselves.  Slowly standing, still having trouble finding my balance, I was surprised that there was no popping or cracking of stiff limbs.  Instead, everything just felt fine, as though I¡¯d only sat down a couple of minutes ago.

    ¡°Adam, you are awake I see.¡±

    Turning, and nearly falling over again, I saw Joan sitting in a wicker chair nearby, her sheathed sword ready beside her and a book on her lap.  She was once again wearing her armour, which contrasted rather jarringly with the garden furniture.

    ¡°Uh, yeah.  How long was I . . . ?¡±

    ¡°You have been sat there for nearly ten hours.  I confess I was beginning to become somewhat concerned.¡±

    Well, that was enough to leave me reeling.  Ten hours?  Why wasn¡¯t I hungrier?  Why didn¡¯t I feel like I need to go to the toilet?  Why weren¡¯t my limbs crying out in protest at being immobile for so long?  The questions ran through my mind, then vanished as I remembered that I wasn¡¯t the same average guy I¡¯d been last week.  By the looks of things divine flesh wasn¡¯t quite as susceptible to the rigors of living as mortal bodies were.  Well, I couldn¡¯t say I had a problem with that, not when it seemed to be working to my benefit.

    ¡°Were you successful in your endeavour?¡±

    ¡°I found it!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s there!  But . . . I can¡¯t get it to work for me, not like it should.¡±

    Joan nodded, a smile spreading across her face.

    ¡°Excellent!  A fine achievement Adam.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not working!¡± I protested.

    ¡°As I understand it, Mana is the source of magic, of power, but by itself it is an inert force.  In order for it to quicken into a power it must be contained and catalysed.  Once this is done it shall be far more potent and responsive.  You have taken the first step, an important step.  All you need do is continue.¡±

    I nodded slowly, thinking back to the power that I¡¯d seen within me.

    ¡°So, how do I catalyse it?¡±

    ¡°Adam,¡± Her voice was gentle now, almost soothing. ¡°You have done well, but you have not yet possessed your powers for even a full day.  I cannot give you a quick and easy answer this very minute, nor can honoured Hadriel.  Tomorrow we can begin work on taking the next step, but for now I think you have done enough.¡±

    Letting out a sigh of frustration I ran a hand through my hair and stared out at the white grass and trees before me.  It was strange to see and I wondered how long it would last.  Plants were normally green, it had something to do with how they got energy from sunlight.  Changing them to this ivory white should doom them to die.  On the other hand, this was the result of magic, so who knew how things would turn out.

    Realising that my thoughts had wandered off on a tangent made me realise she was right, my body might feel fine, but mentally I was exhausted.  Strangely I didn¡¯t feel hungry or thirsty, but I wasn¡¯t going to question good fortune.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just go straight to bed,¡± I more or less mumbled. ¡°You¡¯re right, this¡¯ll all make more sense after I get some sleep.¡±

    As I carefully turned around Joan passed me and opened the back door to the farmhouse.  It was a bit of a narrow doorway for me with my new appendages, but if nothing else I seemed to have at least learnt the basics of how to fold them close to me.

    To my surprise, I found that with the wings closed tight it was easier for me to keep my balance.  It was kind of like wearing a very heavy backpack that was slung low.  A bit uncomfortable, but far easier to deal with than my earlier situation.  At least it was enough for me to get through the door and up the stairs without knocking anything over, losing my balance, or accidentally impaling one of the walls.

    As I stumbled into my room, I absently noted that it was strange that so much fatigue was hitting me all at once when just a few minutes ago I hadn¡¯t felt anywhere near as tired, but as before that was simply a background thought.  As I collapsed onto my bed my last thought was to note that I¡¯d lain face down completely on instinct so as not to disturb my new wings.

    Next thing, I was gently drifting off into sweet slumber.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The malignant mass of hellish energies had grown, not so much in size, the conditions it existed in now allowing such, but it had grown denser, more concentrated, more complex.  It had also grown stronger in the short time since its host had gained his power, the refined power of his divinely augmented magic feeding it, even as it tried to burn the aggregate of foul magic from its hiding place.

    It had hidden itself well, coating itself in a layer of the very power that burnt it to conceal the malignant essence beneath.  It had been an instinctive reaction, as devoid of thought as a worm burrowing into dirt, but it had been enough.  The demigod had not sensed it.  The heavenly agents had not sensed it.  None had sensed it.

    As matters stood it was still small, almost insignificant.  But a venomous spider was tiny compared to a man, and its poison could still strike him down.  Voraciously the mass of hellish power continued to feed and strengthen itself, always inching closer to its final goal.

    The demigod would die, it would allow no other outcome!

 Chapter 16: Late-Night Discussions: Part One

    Chapter 16: Late-Night Discussions

    Joan found herself uncertain as to whether she should allow a smile or a frown to cross her features.

    On the one hand, she was pleased that Adam had been able to reach his mana.  Though it might not have immediately allowed him to access his power, it was still a major step in the right direction. Her charge had also done so on his own, and without any sort of formal instruction, and that was a feat worthy of pride.

    On the other hand, though sensing his mana was good, unless he was able to catalyse it, and transform it into a usable state, then it would be akin to a man sitting on an unbreakable chest filled with riches without the key.  What was worse was that she was unable to lend any aid, and she doubted that Hadriel would be able to either.

    The Sanctuary cast by the Heavens would ensure their safety for a time, but would that be enough time to overcome this obstacle?  She was uncertain as to his future, and she knew that as disrupted as the world was there was still more to come.

    ¡°How is he?¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s question pulled the resurrected saint from her thoughts and back to the room in which she stood.  The angel was currently standing by the main dining table where she had spread out a large and detailed map of the area.  Certain spots of it were dotted with glowing lights and symbols that looked vaguely familiar, but which Joan couldn¡¯t immediately recognize.

    ¡°He has succeeded in perceiving his mana, but he is unsure of what the next step in reaching his power is.¡±

    ¡°Indeed?¡± Hadriel turned to face her, the angel¡¯s expression considering. ¡°That is a worthwhile advance, but it will be of little meaning if he proves unable to advance further.¡±

    She paused for a moment, her eyes drifting over to a window, so she could look out upon the white fields.

    ¡°His form is that of an angel, but his soul remains mortal.  Such a limitation means that he will have difficulties in taming his power, strong though it may be.¡±

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, is there nothing that can be done to aid him?  Is there nothing that you can teach him?¡±

    Joan still had trouble believing that the crimson-winged angel really couldn¡¯t help.  This was a servant of God that had existed from the time before the Egyptians had raised the pyramids, surely such a wealth of experience should yield some gem of knowledge.

    ¡°There is much that I can teach him but it is in the use of his power.  In how he can use it in battle, how he can use it to heal others, how he can use it to strengthen himself.  I cannot teach him how to reach it.  I . . . I have no starting point from which to aid him, the best I can do for him as matters stand is look to his security and pray that he can overcome this trial on his own.¡±

    The French saint found herself surprised by the quiet frustration in the angel¡¯s voice but understood it.  Hadriel had been dispatched to the mortal plane to hunt demons and protect innocent souls.  Finding herself assigned to care for one demigod, even if it was one that bore the blood of one of Heaven¡¯s elite, was a duty she might slightly resent.

    Joan sat down and stared at the table for a moment, her eyes slightly narrowed as she struggled through her thoughts.

    ¡°We face an obsticle,¡± She said after a moment, her words slightly slow, as if she were working them out as she spoke. ¡°But . . . it is not insurmountable, nor are we helpless in the face of it.¡±

    She paused again, then looked up to face Hadriel.

    ¡°I have faith that his magic, his power, will be his in the end, but until it is so we will have to do our best to prepare him.  We have skills and powers that can aid in that, and we know that he has at least some power already at his disposal.  This is a hurdle in his path, nothing more.¡±

    The crimson-winged angel nodded in response, but her face still looked troubled.

    ¡°I believe as you do, but even so I find myself . . . disappointed by my role in this,¡± She admitted, then continued as she saw Joan look up at her. ¡°Adam has power, and the light of his Awakening proved that, but I still feel there should be something . . . more.  I do not say this from pride, but I am a soldier in His service, and in my creator''s name I have slain demons, devils, and the spawn of the nameless horrors.  I am strong, even if I do not stand in the ranks of His champions.  I should be battling the hellspawn that would infest the world, not serving as a bodyguard.¡±

    She gestured to the map before her, the motion almost savage.

    ¡°There are many threats slowly emerging in the mortal realm.  Gods that see no reason to restrain themselves or their desires, ancient beasts that have returned now that the Paths are open once more.  There are entire races of spirits, sprites or elves that seek to profit from the access the opened Paths grant them as soon as their scouting is complete.  And then there are the forces of Hell, moving upon the world once more, either in secret or in the open!  I . . . I will follow His commands, and I will understand the reason that I must protect and teach this young demigod, but it does not change the fact that my wish is to be out there upon the battlefield.¡±

    Once again, she gestured to the map.

    Joan moved around the table and took a good look at the map that was spread out on it.

    ¡°So, what does this show you?¡±

    Hadriel looked up, then pointed towards a spot on the map.

    ¡°This is our current location.  The rest of the markers show the supernatural events that have taken place in the general area about us.¡±

    Joan nodded, looking at the map with fresh eyes.  It was unquestionably far more accurate than the ones she had used in her mortal life.  Idly she wondered just what she¡¯d have been able to do during her war against the English with such a map.  A few delightful ideas came to mind, but she dismissed them as unworthy of her.  The British were no longer her enemies; indeed, she was now the guardian to an Englishman, quite the irony.

    The glowing symbols upon it were Enochian glyphs, a sort of shorthand used by the angels to easily identify complex concepts.  Joan knew a few of them but was unfamiliar with the rest, though those that she did recognize were of concern, given that they referred to demon sightings, potential monster dens, and even one that she thought might mean ¡®cannibalistic cult of . . . rabbit worshippers¡¯, though she was pretty sure she was wrong on that last one.  At least, she hoped she was.

    ¡°The Sanctuary will keep us safe for a time, but we must be ready for the time when it will not.  I do not expect the forces of the devils and demons to begin to try to march upon us the moment that it falls, but it is only prudent to prepare for whatever may be nearby.¡±

    Joan nodded again, as she studied the map.

    ¡°A sensible notion.  What would you say are the closest matters of concern?¡±

    The angel frowned slightly but pointed in turn to three symbols that were relatively close to the one that denoted their current location.  The resurrected soul couldn¡¯t help but notice that one of them was the symbol that she thought might refer to the rabbit-worshipping cult.

    ¡°This is the site of a Faerie Ring,¡± Hadriel explained, pointing to a symbol which was a ring formed of a circle of stars connected by thin lines. ¡°With the Paths open once more the elven courts, the faery kingdoms, the rogue powers, all the factions of the Fey realms will seek to profit from the restored connection to the mortal realm.  After the actions of the King on the British Isles they are wary of being too aggressive, but that does not change their appetites.  They want children to raise, servants to command, offerings to take, and deals to be struck, and they will not be gentle in how they gain them.  Someone like Adam, would be a prize worth more than his weight in rubies to them.  For now, the forces beyond the Ring are ignorant of him, but when the Sanctuary ends that shall change.¡±

    That caused Joan to frown as she glared down at the small symbol only a couple dozen miles or so from their current location.  The Fey were a more familiar threat to her than foreign deities or even the forces of hell.  Though she had been raised as a faithful Christian daughter she had still been told the folk tales of cruel faeries and elves when she was a child.  Of how they would steal children away and just leave carved wooden dolls in their place.  Of how they would steal food and drink and leave whole villages to starve.  Of how ill-worded wishes made to them could lead a man to sleep for years, only to learn that the world had moved on and that he was now an old man, his youth lost to him.

    After her death she had never given them much mind, only taking a certain intellectual curiosity in the knowledge that such creatures were real.  She had never pursued further knowledge on them though, a fact that she was now regretting.

    ¡°Do you think they shall attack?¡±

    Some dark and buried part of her almost hoped they would, the remnant of the six years old girl that had hidden under her bedsheets in the dark of night, even with her family nearby.  She was strong now, empowered by the God she served, trained by the angels of heaven, and armed with holy weapons and armour, they would find her no easy prey.

    ¡°I am . . . uncertain,¡± Hadriel admitted. ¡°There are many factors that influence the situation, such as which faction has gained control of the Ring, what it is they most want, and how much strength they possess.  The beings of the Fey Realms are powerful and vicious when needed, but they are all more . . . selfish than most other beings.¡±

    ¡°You know them?¡±

    ¡°I was one of the angels that faced the last invasion that was launched by the Wild Hunt before the paths were closed,¡± the angel explained, her eyes growing distant as she recalled. ¡°You have to understand, their soul is structured in a different manner than either the mortals, or even many immortals, and their minds and emotions are likewise different.¡±

    She paused again, seemingly looking for the right words before continuing.

    ¡°Fey are beautiful, proud, brilliant and graceful.  They are also selfish, vicious, temperamental and prone to emotional extremes.  They place themselves as the highest priority in their lives, above even their clans or their family.  Even though they do ally and band together, even though they do form bonds of mutual interest and even affection, a Fey¡¯s first loyalty will be to their self-interest.¡±

    ¡°How can they function as a society then?¡± Joan asked, honestly perplexed. ¡°Surely without trust and self-sacrifice, they can''t form cohesive groups such as settlements or kingdoms, correct?  Without the ability to share resources and knowledge, it would be impossible for them to advance beyond a certain level.¡±

    ¡°That would only be the case if you were dealing with mortals,¡± The angel explained. ¡°Beings such as elves, faeries and other Fey possess a different mental process.  Self-interest does not preclude cooperation, it simply means that there has to be greater motivation, of one form or another.  The Fey are naturally drawn to power, regardless of the type.  Powerful beings, such as the queens, kings and great lords, have amassed enough power to let them draw others into their orbit, becoming the nucleus of a gathering.  Of course, every member of this group seeks to elevate their own position, be it through advancing in the regard of the powerful being they serve, or somehow stealing their power, killing and then replacing them.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The French saint blinked, trying to form a mental image of the sort of society that was being described.  Had it been humans that they were talking about then she couldn¡¯t conceive of a way that such a dynamic could last long enough to accomplish anything of importance.  However, these were not mortals she was talking about, rather it was ageless beings that possessed different drives and instincts.

    ¡°There are few motivations that will drive the Fey to act in a way that would risk their lives.  Fear of their superiors or greed for something are the principal reasons, but pride can also be a driving factor.  They will only intrude upon the mortal realm if one of those factors drives them to.  As of yet, their rulers are unaware of us, so both fear and greed will not be invoked until they do, and neither you nor Adam has transgressed against them in any way that might have injured their pride.¡±

    Joan blinked, then repeated her words in her head.

    ¡°Neither of us . . . but not you?  You said you have faced them before, do you think that you might have made enemies that will try to seek you out?¡±

    Hadriel bowed her head slightly, deep in thought.

    ¡°I was a soldier in an army, it is unlikely that I would be singled out,¡± She paused then, her face considering. ¡°However, some Fey tend to nurture grudges as a loving mother would a child, it is not completely outside the realm of possibility that some Fey might hold a direct grudge against me if they were survivors of that last battle.  It is unlikely that any of the survivors would be powerful or important enough to be able to order any sort of hostile action against us, but it is possible.¡±

    ¡°How do you know of the Ring?¡±

    ¡°Though I cannot directly call upon the Knowledge of the Hosts here on the mortal plane, I still have some access through the tools that I possess,¡± The angel explained. ¡°Not all the angels dispatched to the mortal plane were warriors or hunters, some of them were meant only to act as support to the rest of us, to use spells and rituals to gain knowledge of this plane for the rest of us to use.  It is hardly a substitute for the absolute knowledge that the Heavens can provide upon the Higher Realms, but it is something at least.¡±

    Joan nodded, looking back down at the map.

    ¡°Very well, then an assault by Fey forces is something that we much consider when planning for when the Sanctuary ends.  What else is of concern?¡±

    Hadriel pointed to another symbol, this one further off to the north.

    ¡°This one is less certain, but it still merits attention.  This area is a large and thickly wooded section of the Regional Park near to us.  It is some distance from the nearest mortal settlement, but even so, there have been . . . incidents that have reached the ears of those that compile this information, rumours of monsters in the woods, of people going missing after entering the forest.¡±

    The angels paid attention to rumours?  The notion was so outlandish that Joan couldn¡¯t keep the surprise from her face, and Hadriel must have noticed because she continued.

    ¡°Rumours alone are not enough to draw the attention of the scryers that sift through such gathered knowledge.  However, there are other factors, observe here.¡±  She pointed to a black symbol that was all curves and points, one that Joan was unfamiliar with. ¡°There is a noticeable increase in the ambient death mana in the area, and such a change could not have come about naturally.  For it to do so would require at least a third of the forest¡¯s entire animal population to die in extremely close time to each other, and even then it would be more spread out, and less concentrated.  Instead, it is all focused on this spot, which would indicate that the cause is either a single entity or a small group that remains in close proximity to one another.¡±

    That was of some concern.  Death was a natural part of life, but death mana didn¡¯t naturally accumulate unless there was a large concentration of death.  In the natural world, such things were very rare, but some mages and demons were willing to cause all kinds of slaughter if it allowed them to advance their goals.  Death mana had many applications, from the inconsequential to the terrifying.  The raising and binding of the undead, curses able to make even gods fearful, communication with the dead, even the ability to continue to exist as an independent entity after death had claimed you, all of these could be achieved with death mana.

    That was a thought, one that caused her eyes to narrow as she stared down at the map.  Another thing that could generate death mana was a powerful death-aligned being, such as a ghoul lord, or some other strong undead.  Beings such as that were small wellsprings of death mana.  Normally though, they internalized it to add to their own power. However, if they were letting it leak out like this then either they were new and inexperienced, or they had some plan to perhaps contaminate the general area.  That in itself could end up being quite the nightmare of a situation.  As such an area could be used to summon entire armies of the lesser undead.

    As the various scenarios flowed through her mind Joan understood why the intelligence assets of heavenly agents on the mortal plane felt this was worth noting.

    ¡°Again, there is no definitive threat, but it is something that warrants attention and preparation,¡± Hadriel continued. ¡°It is entirely possible that it is simply the result of overenthusiastic mortal hunters, or perhaps some illness that has struck the forest animals.  There is no way to know.¡±

    ¡°And what of those that have gone missing?  Are we to discount them as well?¡±

    ¡°As of yet the scryers are uncertain as to whether or not such claims are rumour or fact,¡± the crimson-winged angel admitted. ¡°Though they monitor the area with their spells they have so far not heard any confirmations of the disappearances.  Under other circumstances, such words would be dismissed as simple gossip, but there are two noteworthy factors.  The first is the presence of the death mana, and the second is this.¡±

    Her finger pointed towards the symbol that marked the area, then pointed to a faint red and yellow corona that surrounded the collection of curves and points.

    ¡°There is fear here, more than there should be.  These might be uncertain times, but this fear is a directed one, a gnawing one that has a focus and a direction.  This would not spring from mere rumour, it is the result of instinctual knowledge that comes from the blood and marrow of a mortal, rather than from their mind.  Such a fear is not something to discount casually, were I not bound here by my duties I might choose to investigate this myself.¡±

    That was something of a surprise to Joan, both that the angel would seek to deal with such a seemingly minor matter herself, and that she would understand human fear so well.  By their very natures angels did not experience fear in the way that mortals did.  Because of both their immortality and their nature as beings tied so closely to the Lord.  Angels did not fear death itself, not when they knew that it simply meant their essence returning to their creator.  They feared dying in failure, dying in some foolish or pointless manner, they did not fear death itself as a mortal would.  Likewise, they didn¡¯t fear pain or loss, why should they when neither sensation nor emotion was as sharp to them as it was to a mortal?  This empathy was . . . unexpected.

    ¡°It is this last one that is the most concern to me though,¡± Hadriel continued, her finger drifting to a symbol southwest of the farmstead¡¯s location. ¡°This is the only confirmed demonic activity nearby.¡±

    The symbol that she pointed to was easily recognizable, one of the first that Joan had learnt during her studies in the High Heavens.  A crimson circle vertically bisected by a straight line, the edges of the symbol wreathed in tiny dancing flames.

    Without thought Joan felt her hand falling to the sword sheathed at her waist.  To think, there had been an enemy encampment so nearby!  Her eyes narrowed once more as she gauged the distance on the map and tried to determine how far it would be in reality.

    ¡°Would it not be best to simply eliminate this demon holding?¡± She asked, only for Hadriel to shake her head.

    ¡°Were the situation so simple then I would have dealt with it before I even arrived here,¡± She stated. ¡°There has been demonic activity, but the demon in question has been remarkably circumspect in their activities, making it difficult to track them.  It is largely inconsequential dealings, the sort that you would expect from some sort of summoned imp rather than a true demon, but the scryers have confirmed it to be a true demon, one of some power, that is what makes the situation so uncertain.¡±

    A demon that was hiding itself was a difficult problem to deal with, and unusual, given that demons were normally about as subtle as an enraged bull.  That this one was using stealth meant one of three things.  Either it was a weak demon, one that had learnt to use cunning to compensate for a lack of power, or it was a higher-ranked demon, one of the old ones that had gained enough experience and wisdom to control its violent tendencies. Thirdly, it could be that it was somehow bound or compelled to act in this manner.  The first was troublesome, as a cunning foe was always a greater threat than an unthinking brute.  The last was concerning because it meant a strong magic user was nearby.

    However, it was the middle option that gave both the resurrected saint and the angel the most pause.  Those demons that grew able to tame their own natures as savage engines of torture and destruction were the ones that made up the ranks of the commanders of hell.  And not a one of them was weak by any stretch of the imagination.  Worse than that, they knew how to use that power with skill and precision, a deadly combination to face in battle.

    ¡°I could remain on guard while you seek out the demon,¡± Joan offered. ¡°With the Sanctuary still in effect I am certain I would be enough, at least for a short time.¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s face grew slightly sour as she looked to the French saint, then back to the map before her.

    ¡°I would dearly wish to accept your offer, but I cannot discount the chance that this demonic activity is part of a plan to divide our forces.  The Sanctuary is a potent spell, but it is not a flawless one, and there is a chance that this may be a trap.  It is a slim one, but Adam is a prize that I think the forces of hell would be willing to pay much for.¡±

    It was something of a bitter pill to swallow, but Joan could see the wisdom in her words.  Yes, when faced with the forces of hell making even a minor intrusion upon the mortal realm her first instinct was to root it out and burn it, root and stem.  However, that was not why she was here, she had another responsibility and it was not one that could be ignored.

    ¡°For the time being, at least, these threats are minor ones.¡± Hadriel continued. ¡°They should be observed, but do not merit overt action.  It is not ideal, but it is what is dictated by necessity.¡±

    Nodding Joan pulled up a chair and sat down.

    ¡°He will learn,¡± She said it with the same certainty as before. ¡°But what shall we do once he does?¡±

    The crimson winged angel looked up from the map and met her gaze.

    ¡°There is much to be done, and he shall need to be as strong as he can.  For the time being the world has fallen into a state of uneasy balance.  There is some chaos in the world, but for the time being most of the returning gods are content with the roles they have taken for themselves.  Enough of them are enjoying the comforts and entertainments offered by modern civilization that they have kept the wilder or more ambitious among their number from sending this world back into an age of barbarity. However. it is a tenuous balance.  All that is needed is one or two major disasters, or even just a handful of lesser ones and the current age will descend into chaos and bloodshed on a scale unseen before in the history of this world.

    ¡°The task set before us is to either prevent these events before they can unbalance the world, or doing what we can to stem the flow of blood when the worst occurs.¡±

    ¡°It seems . . . so much to lay upon his shoulder,¡± Joan¡¯s eyes turned towards the ceiling, as though she could see through the wood and plaster and into Adam¡¯s room. ¡°And he is so young.¡±

    ¡°You were younger when you were called to serve, and you were given less to serve with.¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s voice was firm almost to the point of hardness, but there was also respect there, an acknowledgement that the mortal before her was one that had served the Almighty with every bit as much devotion and faith as could be expected from one of His angels.

    ¡°Yes, but I was called to face men, to inspire them and lead them into battle.  It was not something I had been trained for, but it was something that I understood.  Adam . . . we are asking him to be more than just a man, we are asking him to be something that even gods will be wary of.  We are asking him not to rouse a defeated and apathetic populous.  We are asking him to protect an entire world.  Such a burden would be crushing to one that had been prepared for it.  To one that only mere weeks ago was plucked from a normal life . . . ?  I am impressed that he has been able to handle the change as well as he has.¡±

    ¡°He should not see it as a burden.  This is a level of trust that few mortals have ever received from the Lord.  He should be honoured and awed that the Almighty has seen fit to entrust him with such a task.¡±

    ¡°That is something he is aware of,¡± Joan assured her, her own voice steady as she faced the angel once more. ¡°But it is difficult concept for him to grasp.  Until only a few months ago he was part of a secular society, the concepts of gods and spirits were simply remnants of bygone days.  Since the Paths opened his encounters with immortals have been peripheral at most.  The notion, the very concept, of the Lord God is . . . too huge for him to comfortably grasp.  Instead he tries to fit it into what he already knows and compartmentalizes away what he doesn¡¯t feel he can deal with yet.  In many ways it is a surprisingly rational and mature method to handle his situation, but I fear it is leaving him somewhat brittle.¡±

    ¡°Will he break?¡±

    ¡°I . . . do not think so.  He has mettle, and fragile though some parts of him might be I do not believe that the Lord would have placed this task upon one that could not endure it.  During the time when we were preparing for the ritual I pushed him as far as I felt I safely could.  He offered far less in the way of complaints than I had been prepared for.  He has fortitude, but he is simply unprepared for the new reality that he is having to deal with.¡±

    Hadriel sighed and drifted away from the table.  Her eyes flicked to the nearest window, staring out at the darkening night outside, before returning to the resurrected saint.

    ¡°We shall have to prepare him as best as we can.  There is much for him to learn, much for him to reach for. All we can do is lend him what assistance and knowledge we can and hope that he can rise to the challenge.¡±

    Joan simply nodded in reply, her face a mask of resolve and purpose.

 Chapter 16: Late-Night Discussions: Part Two

    I came awake as I felt a hand cover my mouth and another one pushing me down onto the bed!

    I had instinctively tried to sit up, but I might as well have had a steel beam soldered across my chest.  The hands that held me felt impossibly strong.  As I shook off the last holds of sleep I found panic start to swell up within me, only to be cut off as a voice hissed into my ear.

    ¡°Quiet!  I don¡¯t mean you any harm, but I can¡¯t let those two below know I¡¯m here.  Be quiet and I¡¯ll let you go, understand?!¡±

    Three things hit me at once.  Firstly, whoever it was that was holding me, had managed to get through the protective spell that had been set up around this area. Secondly, they didn¡¯t want to face Joan and Hadriel, which meant they were likely a threat.  However, it was the last thing that gave me pause and made me give the request consideration, her voice was familiar.

    ¡°Okay, so you¡¯ll be quiet?¡±

    After a moment of hesistation I nodded and the hands that had held me were slowly pulled back.

    I sat up unrestrained, rubbing at my eyes to clear my vision.  My room was dark since it was still night.  I guessed that I¡¯d only been asleep for a few hours, four or five at most.  I was still wearing my trousers, something I was thankful for given this unexpected company, but I didn¡¯t have anything else on.  My wings had come out of their folded position and were now half extended over the sides of my bed.

    Through the dark I could make out the figure that had one knee on my bed as they bent over me.  A distinctly feminine figure, even if she was wearing a baggy jacket with a hood.

    ¡°Alright, thanks for trusting me on this.  Dealing with those two downstairs would be . . . complicated.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?  And how¡¯d you get in here?¡±

    I asked as forcefully as I could while keeping my voice down.  I was willing to extend some trust, but I wanted to know who I was talking to and what was going on.

    ¡°Look, I can¡¯t tell you my name right now.  There¡¯re people looking for me, and there¡¯s magic tied to my name that would let them know if it was invoked, even inside this Sanctuary spell.  Just call me Emma for now, okay?¡±

    Reaching to the side I tried to turn on the bedside lamp , forgetting that because of my new wings the simple task was now quite the challenge.  In the end I had to sit up and fold them in again, accidently carving a couple of cuts into the mattress as I did so, and was able to reach the lamp.  What the light revealed was . . . surprising.

    ¡°You?!¡±

    The figure before me cringed slightly, their hooded head turning to look at my room¡¯s door, but otherwise didn¡¯t move.  Realizing my mistake I went still, my ears straining to hear any movement from downstairs.  For a moment we both just waited, still as statues as we tried to hear anything, then we slowly relaxed as it became clear that no-one was coming.

    ¡°Keep it quiet,¡± She hissed at me, stepping away from the bed. ¡°What part of ¡®I don¡¯t want to have to deal with them¡¯ don¡¯t you get?¡±

    Ignoring her sharp words I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, my wings now more comfortably half extended behind me.

    ¡°You¡¯re the girl from the alley, right?  The one that saved me when those Legends were fighting over my hometown?  What are you doing here?¡±

    Her red lips curved in a smile, and once again I was struck by the beautiful contrast between them and her pale skin.  I could make out almost nothing else about her, yet that small part of her was striking in a way that I couldn¡¯t quite put into words.

    ¡°Yeah, that mess with Abriel and Bellbarath.  Well, I could hardly let you get killed because of those idiots.  More than seven thousand years, and those two can¡¯t get rid of the hate boner they have for each other.  Really, you¡¯d think that they¡¯d have either killed each other by now, or just decided to screw each other and damn the consequences, but no, they have to keep up their unending grudge match across the planes.  It¡¯s not even as though they¡¯re the first to do it either, Nuriel and Garmarath were at it millennia before those two first crossed weapons.  You know, half the time I think they¡¯re just doing it out of some twisted desire to emulate their superiors and just earn their attention.  Hah, like that would ever work!¡±

    I was taken aback by this sudden outpouring of words.  I recognized some of the names she¡¯d mentioned.  Abriel and Bellbarath had been the angel and demon whose battle had caused the disturbance that she¡¯d saved me from when we last met.  The other names didn¡¯t mean a thing to me, but I filed them away for later.  Of more interest to me was her choice of language.  Joan spoke in a sort of textbook perfect way, one that was devoid of any sort of jargon or informality, hearing this woman speak was a rather sharp contrast, almost like being back at the coffee shop.  Her casual and gossipy tone left me feeling a bit more relaxed.

    ¡°Okay, can you just tell me what you¡¯re doing here?  And how the hell did you get in?¡±

    If this Emma could get in, then did that mean others could as well?  When Hadriel had told me we had time to work with, it had been a weight off my chest since it meant I could adjust to what had happened.  But could it be that she¡¯d overestimated how secure the spell she¡¯d so trusted was?

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the Hallowed Sanctuary,¡± She assured me. ¡°It¡¯s powerful as ever, and secure.  I imagine some of the most powerful gods might be able to break through it, if they could even find it, and you¡¯d see them coming a mile off.  The only way I could get in here was because I know some really old secrets.¡±

    That . . . that told me quite a lot and left me with even more questions than before.  She knew a way through the magic of angels?  Didn¡¯t that mean that she had ties to the High Heavens then?  But if that was true then why was she so eager to avoid Joan and Hadriel?  And what she¡¯d said before, about her name being watched for, did that mean that it was the angels that were looking for her?

    Still, she had saved me back then.  I wasn¡¯t sure if her claims that the shockwaves would have killed me were true, but I did know that at the time it had felt as though I was having a heart attack.  If she hadn¡¯t saved my life then she had at least saved me from harm.

    ¡°So, why are you here?¡±

    At my question she took a step back, the shadows cast by my bedside lamp failing to pierce the inside of her hood. Leaving her mouth and chin as the only parts of her face I could see.  Her lips had become a line, her earlier informality seeming to slip away as she grew serious.

    ¡°I needed to know how things were going with you, and it¡¯s a good thing I did.¡± She explained. ¡°The other night the power of your Awakening lit up the globe like a second sun, but look at you now.  I¡¯m seeing nothing from you!  Any other demigod would be having fun tearing shit up with their new powers, trying their new magic out to they see what they can do.  But you?  Nothing.  So, it¡¯s a good thing I came.¡±

    That made some sense, but . . .

    ¡°How did you know I was even here?¡±

    My question made her sigh in clear exasperation.

    ¡°Look, did you really think that I just found you by accident when Abriel and Bellbarath were having their grudge match?  I wasn¡¯t wandering through town and just happened to be there.  I was there because I¡¯ve been watching you for months, ever since the Paths of Eternity opened up again.¡±

    There was something distinctly unsettling about the thought that someone had been stalking me ever since the Black Sun ended, and it sent a chill down my back.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± She said, not waiting for me to voice my thoughts. ¡°You are that important, get used to it.  In case the resurrected saint and the angel downstairs haven¡¯t been able to clue you in, you¡¯ve got a destiny with a capital ¡®D¡¯ coming at you.  That¡¯s the kind of thing that drags in a lot of attention, both the good and the bad kind.  Me, I like to think I¡¯m some of the good kind, but there¡¯re those that might disagree.¡±

    She leaned back against the wall, her posture suddenly tired.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m going to level with you, okay?  There¡¯s the whole ¡®good¡¯ and ¡®evil¡¯ thing going on with the supernatural forces.  But it¡¯s not nearly as black and white as mortal mythology would have you believe, though yeah, there are sides, extreme ends of the spectrum.  You with me so far?¡±  As I nodded she continued. ¡°There¡¯re forces that want to rule, to stand above all other, and there¡¯re those that just want to tear down everyone else until they¡¯re the only ones left standing.  There¡¯re even those that just want to burn everything, that¡¯re willing to join the ashes themselves just so long as they get to watch everything burn.  They¡¯re the ones that occupy the ¡®evil¡¯ end of the spectrum, and they¡¯re the ones that I fell in with, back in the early days of mankind.¡±

    She paused for a moment, probably waiting to see what my reaction would be, but I did my best to give nothing away.  For once I must have been successful, because she kept on going rather than say anything else.

    ¡°I did the whole ¡®bad girl¡¯ thing long enough for civilizations to rise and fall.  But in the end stuff happened and I ended up wanting to get back in with the good guys again.  Problem was that they weren¡¯t too keen to have me back.  Hell, most of those I tried to talk to didn¡¯t even believe me when I told them what I wanted.  I¡¯d spent too long with the bad guys, and the stuff I¡¯d done with them had marked me.  In the end I had nowhere to go, neither side would trust me, and there were those on both sides that would have loved to end me given half a chance, all I could do was hide away.

    ¡°I stayed hidden all the way through the years when the world of mortals was lost to those of divine power, hidden in the cracks, the places where nobody thought to look.  I think I spent more time incarnated on the mortal plane than any other legend, since splitting myself up like that made it harder to find me.  And all that time I was trying to find some way to prove myself, some way to get the side of the angels to trust me again!

    ¡°That¡¯s where you come in, Adam, I¡¯m hoping that you¡¯ll be my ticket into the good books of the good guys!¡±

    Okay, so I was a means to an end for her, at least she was being honest about it.  However, something else that she¡¯d said jumped out at me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a destiny?  What does that mean?  We¡¯re not talking about a prophecy here, are we?¡±

    Even as I asked the question I couldn¡¯t help but start to go over all the mythical characters I knew that had to deal with prophecies about their future.  For most of them it hadn¡¯t turned out well, to say the least.  Fratricide, suicide, incest, and doom in general, nothing good ever seemed to come of it.

    ¡°No, prophecies are a thing, but not like that.¡± She assured me. ¡°Destiny and Fate are different.  Fate is when you¡¯re locked into a specific outcome, the path to getting there is undecided, it can be anything, but the final destination is locked.  That was what happened to Acrisius, the grandfather of Perseus.  He found out he was fated to be killed by his grandson, but he didn¡¯t know how it would happen.  To avoid it he tried to lock his only daughter away so that she couldn¡¯t have any kids, but all that did was get the attention of Zeus and meant her boy was a demigod.

    ¡°Acrisius then tried to kill them both by locking them in a chest and throwing them in the sea, but they survived and Perseus ended up killing him by accident years later.  If Acrisius had dismissed the prophecy then his daughter¡¯s son might have grown up to love him, ridden into battle at his side and ended up giving him a mercy killing after he was mortally wounded by an enemy.  The outcome would have been the same, the grandson killing him, but everything else would have been different.

    ¡°Destiny is different because it¡¯s kind of the opposite.  When you¡¯ve got a destiny the end is always in doubt, but it¡¯s the path there that is guaranteed to be important.  Nobody knows what you¡¯re going to do, or even what you can do, all they know is that what you do is going to be important, and that it¡¯s going to make waves that effect everyone else.  That¡¯s why Destiny is something that riles up all the divinities more than Fate, because it¡¯s turned outwards rather than inwards.

    ¡°The reason Fate has had such an impact in the past has been because it applies to those in power, kings, queens, even gods.  With Destiny you normally can¡¯t see it until after it¡¯s done something, but when it does it shakes up the world.  You, you¡¯re weird in that everyone knows you have a destiny from the start, but that¡¯s it.  Don¡¯t think of it as plot armour or anything like that, it can just as easily be your death as your life that ends up sending ripples all over the place.¡±

    She paused there, and for my part I just waited for her to continue.  I kind of got what she was talking about, but it wasn¡¯t easy to digest in one go.

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    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know everything, but I can tell you that you¡¯ve got a lot behind you.  You¡¯ve got a Destiny, one of those that has a capital letter at the start, but that¡¯s not everything.  You do know that you¡¯re a Legacy, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m descended from Bath Kol.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I felt her power in you when your Awakening lit up the sky.  I¡¯ve got to say, I never thought she¡¯d reincarnate as a mortal, she was always so pure, so absolute, the thought of her as a mortal just doesn¡¯t fit, y¡¯know?  Still, that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    ¡°What did you mean?¡±

    She paused for a moment, then made a waving gesture that took in me and my new wings.

    ¡°Look, you know you¡¯re a Legacy of an angel, that¡¯s pretty obvious just by looking at you.  But when your aura went up after your Awakening I felt the power in it, and it wasn¡¯t just from Bath Kol.¡±

    That confirmed something that I¡¯d already suspected.  Joan had told me I was meant to be powerful, and Hadriel had made comments that seemed to confirm it.  Being that strong would have been unusual if I was just a normal Legacy.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°Adam, when your aura went up it flooded this entire area.  I might not be the best at feeling powers, but even I could tell them apart.  I don¡¯t know whose blood your carrying, but they were all strong, some of them were even stronger than Bath Kol, and trust me, that¡¯s not something I say lightly!¡±

    Wait, that would imply . . .

    ¡°How many powers did you sense in me?¡±

    ¡°Aside from her?¡± I gave a sharp nod and she leaned forwards. ¡°I felt at least three other signatures in there, d¡¯you understand?  Three! I don¡¯t know who they¡¯re from, so don¡¯t ask, but I could clearly feel the difference in them.  And for all I know there might have been more in there, hidden behind the others.¡±

    I was stunned.  Three more?  So that made four, and there might be others hiding behind them?!  What . . . ?  How . . . ?  I had spent a few days getting my head around the idea that I was the descendant of an angel.  And it was only been because I¡¯d had that time to adjust to the idead that getting these new wings hadn''t thrown me off way more than it had.  But now I was being told I was related to three more divinities! Ones that I had no clues as to their identities.  Well, I could grasp it intellectually, but emotionally, that was a whole different story.

    So, I did the one thing that men and women have always done throughout history when faced with unexpected and uncomfortable revelations.  I repressed, and I procrastinated.  I just couldn¡¯t deal with it then, so I bundled it up and shelved it at the back of my mind, something to mull over later.

    ¡°Right, so you have a lot of bloodlines in you,¡± She said, dragging my attention back to her. ¡°This should mean that you¡¯ve got a lot of power.  Actually, I know you do!  No way would you have been able to send up such a massive flare if you didn¡¯t.  So, back to my first question, why aren¡¯t you doing anything with your new power?  If you don¡¯t exercise it in these early days after getting your blood woken up then you¡¯ll have a harder time building it up later.¡±

    What?  Neither Joan nor Hadriel had mentioned anything like it.  did they even know?  This new information, if true, lent more than a bit of urgency to the need to figure my powers out.

    ¡°Something went wrong with my Awakening,¡± I replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the admission, though I wasn¡¯t sure why. ¡°I . . . don¡¯t seem to have the normal stuff about just knowing how to use my powers.  I can sense my mana now, but I can¡¯t do anything with it.  Joan says that I¡¯ve got to catalyse it somehow, but she doesn¡¯t know how to do it, neither does Hadriel.¡±

    My words seemed to stun her, because her jaw dropped.

    ¡°You . . . can¡¯t use your magic?¡±

    ¡°No, I think I can, I just don¡¯t know how!¡±

    I answered defensively, but I felt a spike of fear hit me as she voiced the concern that had been gnawing at the back of my mind.  Joan had seemed to be certain that I could use my power. But some part of me had wondered if I simply was unable to, that whatever had happened at my Awakening might have crippled me more than everyone knew.  I knew that I had power, my uncontrolled flight was a clear sign of that, but what if that was all I had to me?

    ¡°Okay, first tell me everything that you¡¯ve done since you Awakened, I need to know how you¡¯re doing so far.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t done much so far,¡± I admitted. ¡°After I woke up I found I¡¯d gotten new looks and these wings.  I spent some time trying to get used to them, then fell off the balcony.  I managed to sort of catch myself in mid-air, but I couldn¡¯t control it.  After that Joan explained what was going on and I tried to meditate to reach my power.  I was able to sense my mana, but I couldn¡¯t get it to do anything!¡±

    ¡°Was there anything else?¡±

    I searched my recollections for anything else that might be worth mentioning, but all I could come up with were a few minor details.

    ¡°Just some small stuff.  My wings have got some sharp feathers, so they can cut through stuff.  It didn¡¯t hurt when I fell down after losing my flight, and I didn¡¯t feel hungry at the end of the day, even though I hadn¡¯t had anything to eat or drink.  Actually, I still don¡¯t feel hungry.¡±

    That last was said with a bit of surprise, because it was true, I would have thought that after more than eighteen or so hours without food or water I¡¯d have felt both starving and parched, but instead I just felt fine.  I was about to mention that, but by then Emma was already speaking again, and her words caught anything I was about to say in my throat.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I think I know what your problem is, and it¡¯s a pretty easy fix.  You¡¯ve got power in you, and if that bit of flying is anything to go by then it¡¯s at least partly woken up.  All you¡¯ve got to do is spark it, give it that initial jolt of power to get it going.  Once that¡¯s done then it becomes like a self-sustaining reaction, you get me?¡±

    I nodded, enthused by the image she was producing, by the idea that I wasn¡¯t crippled.

    ¡°Okay, here¡¯s the plan,¡± She leaned forward conspiratorially, her lips curling in a playful manner that shouldn¡¯t have been as alluring as it was. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you how to spark your mana, but you don¡¯t do it now, got it?  You wait until tomorrow, then you do some more meditating on your internal energy, then you ignite it.¡±

    Her suggestion was enough to get my mind off how sexy her lips were and back onto what she was actually saying.

    ¡°What?  Why not now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, if you were to spark up your mana now, what d¡¯you think is going to happen?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll . . . get my powers?¡±

    ¡°Right, you will!  And in case you¡¯re forgetting, just waking up your divine blood was able to illuminate half the damned globe, as well as soak the entire area in enough purifying energy to actually benevolently mutate the local plants and animals!  If you do ignite your mana then there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll blast this whole place to bits just by accident, and I¡¯m right here y¡¯know.  I don¡¯t want to get a face full of divine fire or godly thunderbolts, that hurts y¡¯know.

    ¡°And even if you don¡¯t blast the place into splinters, there¡¯re also your minders to worry about!  As soon as they feel a power surge then they¡¯re going to be charging up here like the forces of hell are trying to invade.  They wouldn¡¯t be very good guardians if they didn¡¯t, would they?  Have you forgotten that I really don¡¯t want to have to deal with them just yet?  If they catch me here it¡¯s going to be a case of ¡®stab first, stab second, keep stabbing until there¡¯s no more sign of movement, ask questions never¡¯, do you understand?¡±

    The words were spoken calmly, almost in a deadpan tone of voice, but even so there was a force to them that I couldn¡¯t ignore.  She was completely and utterly convinced that both of the agents of Heaven would do their best to kill her as soon as they laid eyes on her. So, what did that say about the kind of person I was currently alone with?

    Up until that point I hadn¡¯t really felt concerned for my safety.  Emma was strange, surprising, but she¡¯d helped me before, so I was willing to extend her some trust.  But as I put the pieces together I started to wonder just what kind of person she really was.  She¡¯d said she ended up falling in with the ¡®bad side¡¯, so just what side could that have been if the Heavens had a kill on sight policy against her?  What was she, a witch?  A demon?

    I felt my wings flex, and there was a sound of tearing cloth as the sharpened feathers cut into both my mattress and my bedsheets.  I saw her head turn slightly, looking to see what made the noise, then turning back to me.  I didn¡¯t see any change in her posture though, no defensiveness or aggression.  We just looked at each other, then the moment of tension passed as my wings relaxed again.  Emma must have noticed it as well, because she inclined her head in a small nod, the movement casting her whole face into shadows again.

    ¡°I know this is a lot to just take on faith,¡± Her voice was softer now, less demanding and a bit meeker, but there was still conviction there. ¡°Look, if I wanted to hurt you I¡¯ve had plenty of chances already.  I¡¯ve known where you¡¯ve been for weeks before Jeanne d¡¯Arc found you.  I knew you were in that house you shared with your friends, the one with the blue door and the big French windows.  If I wanted to hurt you I could have done it there, or left you to the side effects of those two muscle heads.  Hell, I could have come in here and slit your throat with a knife if I wanted, I wouldn¡¯t even have had to wake you up.  But I haven¡¯t, have I?¡±

    I could practically feel my face pale as she spoke, the realization that yes, she could have killed me if she¡¯d wanted to, suddenly very clear in my mind.

    ¡°She . . . she prefers me to call her Joan.¡±

    I said it absent-mindedly, a side comment as I tried to get a handle on what I had just heard.  Was she . . . stalking me?  In my mind the term ¡®stalking¡¯ was linked to the image of men and women with emotional problems following their targets through their lives while hoping to somehow connect with them.  I¡¯d always found it to be creepy, though I had joked with my friends that if I had to have a stalker then I¡¯d prefer them to be a sexy young woman.

    Now, as the sudden target of a woman who was strangely attractive, despite the fact that all I¡¯d seen of her was her mouth and chin, I most definitely did not feel flattered.  Instead I suddenly felt hunted and vulnerable, and I didn¡¯t like the feeling one bit.

    It was a visceral reaction, a sudden desire to lash out at the one that made me feel like prey.  I think . . . if I had had better control over my new wings, I might have lashed out at her then, just on instinct.  Maybe not to kill or hurt, but just to drive her back, just to put some room between us.

    Fortunately, I didn¡¯t have that control.  My left wing tried to unfold some more, but the feathers caught in the mattress again.  I probably could have ripped it free if I pushed hard enough, but I didn¡¯t know how to just yet.  The pause gave me a moment to think, to tamp down on the urge to lash out.

    Besides, she still hadn¡¯t told me how I could get my powers to work.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I paused for a moment, licking lips that were suddenly dry before continuing. ¡°Okay.  I get that you don¡¯t want me to do it now because that¡¯ll bring Joan and Hadriel in here.  But . . . look, what if whatever you tell me doesn¡¯t work?!  Wouldn¡¯t it be better to do it while you¡¯re here so you can help if anything goes wrong?¡±

    As I spoke, I realized that I was voicing my fears and insecurities.  The idea of having power I couldn¡¯t use was more than I could bear.

    ¡°What if we go outside now?¡± I suggested. ¡°I can try whatever you suggest, and if anything goes wrong you can help, but if it goes right then you can get out of here before either of them arrive, and I¡¯ll just say I couldn¡¯t sleep and wanted to try something.¡±

    The hooded head shook in the negative, the now visible lips slightly pursed.

    ¡°Sorry Adam, it wouldn¡¯t work.  Even a failed attempt might bring them as fast as they can, and do you know how fast Hadriel can move if she really wants to?  Not someone I want to try running from when she¡¯s pissed.  Joan could probably do the same if she uses her transformation.  Me, I¡¯m pretty fast when I want to be, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯d be getting away from them if it came to that.  And then it¡¯d be stabby time for me, and not in any sort of fun way, let me tell ya!¡±

    I blinked at her, surprised by the suggestive joke.  I¡¯d gotten so used to politeness and grammatical correctness that this came as a bit of a shock.  A welcome one.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ll tell you the trick, then you just hold off until tomorrow to try it.  If it doesn¡¯t work, if I can¡¯t sense you sparking your power up, then I¡¯ll see about coming back tomorrow night, okay?  C¡¯mon, that¡¯s got to be a pretty good consolation prize if you can¡¯t ignite your powers, right?  One guaranteed visit from a hot piece of ass in the middle of the night, sounds like a win/win to me.¡±

    A surprised chuckle escaped me at that, and the last remnants of tension dissipated completely.  I wasn¡¯t sure whether or not she was doing it deliberately, but her somewhat crass jokes did make her seem less threatening.  It also made her a bit easier to trust, and made the situation seem a bit less dire.  True, I did want to get my powers up and running as quickly as I could, but I could take a day or two, assuming things didn¡¯t go well the first time.

    Besides, did I really have any good options other than extending her some trust?  Messing around with powers I didn¡¯t understand that ran through my body was way too risky.  I did not want to be the first demigod to kill themselves via incompetent initial use of their power, after all.

    ¡°Okay, okay you win.  I¡¯ll wait until tomorrow.¡±

    Emma smiled, a triumphant curve of her lips that was . . . dazzling.  Damn it, how was she able to be so attractive with just a section of her face?  I mean, I didn¡¯t like to think of myself as a shallow guy, but surely it was more normal to be attracted to someone when you could at least see most of them, right?

    ¡°Thanks for trusting me, Adam,¡± She said. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll do right by you to prove that trust isn¡¯t misplaced.¡±

    I nodded back, then cocked my head to the side in a look of exaggerated curiosity.

    ¡°So . . . how do I get my powers up and running?¡±

    She smiled, then answered my question.

    ¡°You got that?¡±

    I nodded my head, my eyes somewhat distant as I went over what she¡¯d told me.  Yes, yes, I could see how that would work.  It wasn¡¯t going to be easy, but I was sure I could do it . . .

    ¡°Right then, remember, don¡¯t actually do it until tomorrow, got it?¡±

    My thoughts returned to the present as I looked over to Emma.  I could wait, I had promised after all, so I nodded my head in agreement.

    ¡°Good!  Then I think it¡¯s time I got outta here.  Give you a chance to catch up on your beauty sleep, not that you need too much of it right now.¡±

    Her lips were a wide grin now, and I felt my face flush again as I realized I¡¯d spent this whole-time half laying on my bed while wearing only trousers and with my wings half spread about me.  I must have looked like one of those sinful angels that were appearing on the covers of the most recent trashy romance novels that were being published.  The ones that featured various angels, demons and gods as the objects of torrid love for the beautiful heroines of the stories.  All I needed was a lascivious smile and I¡¯d have the image down pat.

    Emma let out a soft chuckle, which only served to make me blush further.  Before I could say a word in my defence she¡¯d taken a step back into the shadows of the room.

    I don¡¯t mean that she hid in the dark, I mean that she stepped back, and then disappeared into the shadows as though it had been a pool of vertical water that she¡¯d slipped into!  I could still see the shaded wall, the darkened corner of my room, then for a moment it was so dark I couldn¡¯t see anything.  In that moment Emma slipped into the darkness as though it were a physical thing, and when the light returned to normal she was gone.

    Since getting dragged into this whole situation I had been exposed to a great many different examples of supernatural power.  I¡¯d seen Joan turn into an angel, seen her forge constructs out of light, had experienced her mending my wounds, seen a giant made of stone and metal duke it out with my protector while she was in full angel mode.  Yet for all of that the sight of the shadows changing like that was probably the most disturbing thing that I¡¯d been exposed to so far.

    Turning off the light and closing my eyes I tried to still my thoughts, to find some sort of peace.  Beside me my wings instinctually folded up around me, just another reflexive motion that I was going to have to learn about.  In truth it was actually quite comfortable, the soft inner wings feeling like cushions or duvets.  At any other time I might have been interested by this aspect of my new limbs, but at that moment my mind kept on drifting back to one thought.

    Power, I¡¯d be able to have power.  I didn¡¯t yet quite know what sort it would be, but it would be enough to make me a player instead of a pawn.  At least, I hoped so.  There was always the chance that what had happened to me might have left me damaged, right?  Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a real concern, or if it was simply my nerves getting the better of me.  I just had to wait and see.

 Chapter 16: Late-Night Discussions: Part Three

    She collapsed onto her bed as she fell from the shadows.  The cheap mattress springy enough to make her bounce slightly before she settled in place.

    Outside the town was silent as the grave.  The area had been evacuated as the authorities tried to search for the origin of the light that had illuminated half the globe.  She¡¯d remained, hidden by a simple but powerful ritual that had used up much of her remaining resources, so her presence was being overlooked, slipping away from the minds of those that observed her, but still she had to be careful.  The Hallowed Sanctuary would ensure that the farmstead would appear uninhabited, but her own protection was far less assured.

    Thinking of her actions made her lips curl.  Infiltrating it had been more difficult than she had expected.  And her expectations had been high indeed.

    The Hallowed Sanctuary was not a spell to be taken lightly under the best of circumstances, and as things stood she was far from her best.  Certainly, she had been able to slip into it using her intimate knowledge of some of its hidden flaws, but it had been taxing, taxing in the extreme.

    Still, it had been worth it!  And not simply because it finally let her talk to Adam face to face.  A small smile spread across her face as she thought about how the young man that she was placing so much hope on had changed.  Yes, his Awakening might have been flawed, but it had certainly treated him kindly in other ways.  She doubted he knew just how much his looks had been changed by his divine blood, but she imagined it might be fun to watch as he learnt.

    Her smile grew less kind and more playful as she remembered the sight of him leaning back on his bed, his white wings half spread around him, and all those delicious new muscles of his all clearly on display for any to see.  Lust might never have been her principal sin, but even so she¡¯d found her pulse beginning to hasten at the sight before her.  She hoped that the young demigod would prove to be as powerful as she hoped he would be, for mortals of such beauty who lacked the power to determine their own courses in life often found themselves helpless at the whims of the gods whose eyes they caught.

    She knew he¡¯d be strong, but how strong . . . ?  That thought started to grow but was overshadowed as she shifted her weight and her muscles screamed in protest.  The pain was a reminder that her body was still protesting the payment her magic had demanded of it, she should really do something about that.  Biting back another wince of pain she rolled over onto her back and reached out to the bag that she¡¯d put on the chair next to the bed.  Sharp aches ran along her arm, but after a bit of groping about inside the bag she found the small vial she was looking for.  Sitting up, she gingerly opened the small bottle and poured a small measure into her free hand, then started to rub the oil onto her aching limbs.

    Relief came quickly as the oil was absorbed into her skin and muscles, its ingredients serving to alleviate the strain of having had to channel so much of her magic through her flesh.  As she stripped her clothes off, so she could work on her bare arms and shoulders, she couldn¡¯t help but be amused at her predicament.  The amount of magic that she could call upon was pathetically paltry compared to what she had once wielded, and yet even such a small quantity was still too much for her flesh since she was unable to channel it in the correct manner.  It was just one obstacle after another.

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    Having completed her arms and shoulders she slipped off her trousers and began to work on her legs.  As she did so her fingers reached the makeshift bandage that covered a certain spot on her upper thigh, and her movements slowed a bit.  Carefully avoiding the bandage, she finished massaging her legs before laying back on her bed again.  She stayed like that for a moment, then with a sigh sat up once more.  A small wince crossed her face at the sharp ache that the motion caused, but she ignored it as she carefully undid the cloth wrap.

    The last of her good humour drained out of her as she inspected the revealed patch of scales that had taken the place of her skin.  The skin about the patch was reddened and slightly inflamed, even though it wasn¡¯t causing her pain, but the redness highlighted the snow-white scales.  Even worse was that the patch had grown in size since the last time she¡¯d examined it.  What had once been the size of her little fingernail was now the size of the first joint of her thumb.

    Biting back the curses that sprung to mind she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a small, wrapped package barely larger than a small cigar.  Carefully undoing the silk cords that bound it shut she unfolded it to reveal a glittering white powder, one just as white as the scales that now marred her skin.  Taking a small pinch, she gritted her teeth and forcefully rubbed the powder onto the scales.

    There was an audible sizzling sound as the scales seemed to dry up and crack under the powder.  The edges of the patch grew brittle and broke, leaving skinless flesh behind, from which a steady flow of blood began to trickle.  Rubbing the last of the powder in she reached down and picked up the discarded bandage, using it to dab at the trickle of blood until it finally stopped.  As she did so more and more of the scales broke off and flaked away until the size of the patch was reduced to barely half of what it had been, the patch now surrounded by bloody and bare flesh.

    Taking out a fresh set of bandages that she¡¯d bought earlier she started to wrap the wounded area up again.  As she did so she couldn¡¯t help but glance over at the open package and note how there wasn¡¯t much of the powder left.  Assuming she used the same amount each time, then she had enough for four or five more uses, at the very most.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    She couldn¡¯t help but allow the curse to slip out as she tied the ends of the bandages together, wincing slightly as it put pressure on the injury.  She should have expected this, she should not have been caught by surprise.  With the amount of magic she¡¯d used to meet Adam it should have been perfectly expected for this to act up.  With all the constraints she was being forced to function under, was it any wonder that their growth had begun to exceed her ability to control it?

    She was walking a tightrope, that was the simple truth.  But did she have any choice in the matter?  Adam was her only chance to make her plan work, but she couldn¡¯t gain access to him without taking the very steps that were endangering her.

    Suddenly, she felt tired, the whole situation bearing down on her as she was reminded of how precarious her position was.  All she could do was keep on advancing and hope that she would be able to achieve her ends before things came crashing down upon her.

    She hoped that Adam would not require further aid with sparking his magic.  As things stood, she wasn¡¯t sure she could afford to circumvent the Hallowed Sanctuary any time soon.

 Chapter 17: Making Magic: Part One

    Chapter 17: Making Magic

    When morning came the sound of birdsong that pulled me out of the depths of sleep.

    I had been able to sleep a little in the end, but my dreams had not been restful.  It didn¡¯t take all that much for me to come wide awake.

    Waking up was the easy part, getting out of bed, on the other hand, proved more of a challenge.  At some point during my dreams, my wings had shifted and the sword-like feathers on my left wing had stabbed into the bedframe as they had covered me.  Using my arms and legs to wrench the feathers free, I finally yanked the wing out.  The perfect way to start the day.

    As I unsteadily regained my footing I noticed that both the mattress and the bed itself had taken quite a bit of damage from my wings throughout the night.  Both were still mostly holding together, but they were . . . not in good shape.  Indeed, another couple of nights like this one and I¡¯d probably end up being woken up by the bed falling apart.

    All of this passed through my mind as I pulled myself to my feet, but a far more important issue held my attention, namely my magic!

    My first impulse was to immediately sit on the floor and start meditating.  Emma had been pretty clear that there was a chance I might end up damaging the general area around me when I finally ¡®sparked¡¯ it.  I really didn¡¯t want the farmhouse damaged, so I had to do this a good distance away.

    Impatience gnawed at me in a way I¡¯d never felt before.  There was anticipation, there was eagerness, both of them keener than I¡¯d ever felt before.  There was also covetousness and greed.  It was like waking up on Christmas morning when I was a child, only this time it was much more than mere toys that I was looking forward to.

    I took a step away from my bed and then looked out of the window.  I could see the white field outside, see the distant trees that were just as pale. I could see the wide-open space between the farmhouse and the nearby woods, and that seemed ideal for what I wanted.

    I thought about getting started after breakfast, but then it occurred to me, did I even need to wait?  I still didn¡¯t feel hungry, even though it had been more than two days since I¡¯d had anything to eat.  Nor did I feel in any way thirsty, not even after a full night¡¯s sleep.

    Maybe it was a power that I¡¯d already received, not needing food or water for long periods?  That was convenient since I didn¡¯t want to wait anymore!

    Getting up I made my way over to the door that opened onto my room¡¯s balcony and pulled it open.  It was still early in the morning, and the sun was only just rising above the horizon.  I took a moment to appreciate the view, then I jumped off my balcony.

    This wasn¡¯t as reckless as you might think.  For one thing, I was pretty sure that the fall wouldn¡¯t hurt me, I kind of knew that I was tougher than I had been before my Awakening.  I was willing to bet that a single-story drop wouldn¡¯t be enough to hurt me.  And even if it did, I knew that Joan would be more than capable of me healing up if it came to it.  But as it turned out neither outcome was an issue.

    As soon as I jumped over the railings my wings spread out.  The action was as instinctive as closing your eyes when faced with a bright light.  As soon as I was in the air the large pinions on my back opened to catch the wind as I fell.  They might not have been large enough to actually let me fly on their own, but they were wide enough and strong enough to catch the wind and turn my fall into a glide.

    And it was AWESOME!

    I¡¯d never flown in a hang-glider, or done anything like sky diving or wingsuit diving, but as I felt the pleasure of the wind holding me up as I sailed through the air, I wondered if maybe I had been missing out.  It was only a short flight, barely more than thirty yards from the top of the terrace to where I came to a stumbling finish.  But even that was further than physics should have allowed.  I was pretty sure that my wings didn¡¯t quite have the coverage to have taken me this far, so I guessed that a hint of my magic must have shown itself then.

    That thought only served to spur me on as I turned and made my way out further into the field that separated the farmstead from the forest.  Once again, my wings were folded up close against my back, making it easier to walk, so I was able to make some decent time.  In less than ten minutes I¡¯d reached the halfway point and decided that this was far enough.  Or at least I hoped it was far enough.  Joan had said that my Awakening had been spectacular, to say the least.  If this sparking of my magic was equally huge then it wouldn¡¯t matter if I hiked to more than a mile away.  I¡¯d have to trust myself that I could control what happened or I might end up waiting until I was on the top of a mountain before I tried it.

    Sitting down cross-legged I closed my eyes and tried to sink into the same state of meditation that had allowed me to perceive my mana before.  It was difficult, the very act of knowing what I wanted made it harder for me to enter the state of defused attention that I needed, but I managed it in the end.  Once again I could ¡®see¡¯ the energy running through me, and as I did so I remembered Emma¡¯s instructions.

    ¡°The first thing you¡¯ve got to remember is that mana is only a part of the secret recipe,¡± She¡¯d explained. ¡°Mana is powerful, or at least it can be, but on its own, it¡¯ll just sit there and not do much.  It might give you a couple of passive powers, stuff like a longer life or a bit of faster healing, but if you¡¯re looking to actually use magic then you¡¯re going to have to spark it!¡±

    I could understand that now.  During my initial meditation, I thought that my mana was my magic and tried to force it to my will.  ¡®Looking¡¯ at it now I could see that I had been essentially trying to boil water over an unlit bonfire.  I¡¯d been trying to get it to act in a way that ran contrary to its nature.  Mana was passive, pervasive, and inert, it was something that my being alive produced.  It was the start of magic, but it was not the only part.  Nor was it the only power that my body produced.

    ¡°Mana is a big part of magic, but it¡¯s not the whole of it, y¡¯get me?  All mortal bodies produce several different kinds of power, and as a demigod, the amount of those powers that you produce is magnitudes more than most mortals could ever manage.  This should make it easier for you to sense them like it¡¯s easier to see a light if it¡¯s brighter.

    ¡°After mana, the first power that you¡¯ve got to find is your chi.  Well, that¡¯s the most common name for it.  The Japanese called it Ki, the old Greeks just called it vitality, there¡¯ve been lots of different names for it.  I think the Chinese gods and sages were the ones to grow most advanced in using it though, so I¡¯m using their name for it.

    ¡°Chi is basically the energy of life, the power of you being alive.  It¡¯s not like mana though, mana is something you create by just being alive, it is as much a by-product of living as the heat that your body generates.  Chi, instead, is the power that makes you alive in the first place, it¡¯s the thing that keeps you going even when you should stop and die.  Umm, okay, that¡¯s a bit complicated.  Let¡¯s say it like this; mana is the power created by being alive, but chi is the power of being alive, does that make sense?¡±

    I¡¯d nodded, so she¡¯d continued.

    ¡°Unlike mana chi is a very active force, something that everyone uses all their lives.  Y¡¯know how some people can die of a disease, and then there¡¯s someone else with the same illness, and in the same condition, and they survive?  Half the time that comes down to chi, to the simple strength of their lifeforce.  Y¡¯know that old story about a parent lifting a car to save their kids?  Yeah, that¡¯s adrenaline and briefly using all the body¡¯s strength without limiters, but the strength of their chi can also be an important factor, understand?

    ¡°Y¡¯see, chi is normally just there in the background, as much a part of you as your blood, but just acting in response to your lifestyle.  People who put more effort into stuff, whether it''s martial arts or writing poetry, tend to have more of it, but that just means they tend to get more out of it, they live harder, brighter.  Back before all the Legends were sealed off it was possible to build up your chi, to make it grow greater and greater until you could do things that would normally take magic.  Y¡¯know all those Kung Fu movies, stuff like running on water, smashing stones with a touch, or throwing chi blasts?  Once upon a time you really could do that, if you were willing to put in the time, sweat and blood to train to that level.

    ¡°Anyway, chi is essential to magic because it¡¯s what you use to spark mana into magical energy.  You don¡¯t even need that much of it, just like you only need a single spark in the right place to start up a forest fire, but you must be careful in how you gather it.

    ¡°Chi permeates the body, but unlike mana, it doesn¡¯t leave it.  Chi is right there, in every part of you that¡¯s alive.  It¡¯s in your blood, your bones, your organs and your muscles, always, from before the moment you were born, right up until the instant you take your final breath.  All you need to do is recognize it, and it will come to you.  Learning to make it serve you is gonna be more difficult, it¡¯s different for everyone, so I can¡¯t just tell you how to do it, but when you get a lock on it the next part¡¯s easy.¡±

    Her instructions ran through my mind as though she was right there speaking to me.  It was so clear that for a moment I wondered if part of the power I¡¯d already gained from my Awakening had been some kind of boost to my memory.  I could recall everything that Emma had told me word for word, something I would have loved to be able to do for classes leading up to my exams.  Of course, learning how to gain magic provided lots more motivation, so that might have something to do with it.

    I could sense the mana, so now I had to find my chi.  And . . . I wasn¡¯t entirely sure of just how to do that.  How was I meant to find it?  I mean, the vast majority of anything I knew about internal energy came from watching either martial arts movies or fighting animes, and just how reliable might those be?  Half the time the main characters in those shows were able to gain their power through some sort of contrived plot device, like an ancient temple filled with magic crystals, or some old and wise master that could unlock their power for them, not anything that could be even slightly applied to my situation.

    I started to feel a little bit of panic trying to worm its way into my thoughts as I wondered if I¡¯d be able to find it, but then I took another deep breath and forced myself to once more relax before I lost my meditative state.

    Maybe I wasn¡¯t coming at this from the right direction.  Emma had said that chi was essentially lifeforce energy, so it would be best to think of it like that.  The thought made it easier for me to conceptualize what I was looking for and made it more real than the vague notions of ¡®battle auras¡¯ and ¡®spirit energy¡¯ that I had become familiar with in Japanese entertainment.

    Life energy would have to be a part of me, fixed, not like the mana, which ran through me and then left my body.  Instead, it would have to be more contained, something that moved beneath my skin, but which didn¡¯t leave it.  I remember reading once that the top layer of the skin is composed of dead cells, which is why it''s dry.  It was only under that layer that you got to the living stuff, the cells that were still feeding, splitting and growing.  If that was true then I had to think of the lifeforce being under it, amidst all the living parts of me.

    It was difficult, and I wasn¡¯t sure how long it took me, but eventually, I started to sense something.  I finally found another energy within me, but it was difficult because it had been hidden ¡®underneath¡¯ the flow of mana, but at the same time it had been sitting on top of it as well, or maybe within it?  It was hard to put into words because there weren¡¯t words to describe the concept properly.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    I suppose that the closest description would be two contradictory metaphors being simultaneously true.  The new power I had found had been within me, but the mana had been so bright that it had blotted this other energy out.  At the same time, it was as though this new energy had been overlaid with the mana, but I hadn¡¯t been able to ¡®see¡¯ it because they were the same colour.  Except they weren¡¯t.  Seriously, I started having a headache as I tried to make sense of what I was perceiving, but in the end, I just gave up.  It was like one of those paintings where they use a trick to paint an infinite staircase.  It was like that, only times a hundred, and inside my skull, so I couldn¡¯t get away from it.

    Fortunately, I found that if I concentrated on one energy then the other would sort of sink out of my attention until there was just the one I was focussed on.  It wasn¡¯t perfect, and I could see it causing some trouble later, but for the time being, it served well enough to let me concentrate on this discovery without my brain feeling as though it wanted to turn off.

    And there was quite a bit to concentrate on, because while this new energy bore superficial resemblances to mana it was also different in so many ways.

    For one thing, it was faster, so much faster that it took me a moment to realize it was moving at all.  Mana flowed about my body in a recognizable stream, but this energy . . . well, it seemed to be everywhere at once, flowing throughout all of me.  It was only when I reached out to try and touch it with my will that I felt it, the current, the feeling of motion, of vitality.  Mana might run through me in a flow, but this chi, this lifeforce, it raced through me like electricity along a wire.  Describing it as electric was quite accurate since everything about it made me think of lightning.  It was bright, fast, and it felt potent, strong in a way that wasn¡¯t like fire, no matter how hot or fierce it was.

    Oh, and it stung when I first reached out to it.

    It wasn¡¯t really pain that I felt when my mind made contact with it, rather I was surprised by the way it kept on moving even as I tried to get my mental fingers to get a hold of it.  If you could somehow have grabbed a worked chainsaw without it hurting you, then I suppose it would have felt something like what I experienced.  The constant motion, the teeth trying to bite and tear but finding no grip, the barely contained energy that wanted to get loose.

    I immediately recoiled, an instinctive response to the feeling that was transmitted to my mind.  Again, I almost lost my meditative state, but manage to hold onto it by remaining fixed on the flow of energy inside me.  I reached out for it again, this time trying to make myself ready for the strange feeling of frantic motion.  Again, I poked at it, trying to get a gentle grip, but once more it pulled itself free, refusing to stop moving.  I tried two more times before I realized that something had to change.  I supposed that I could try grabbing it with more force, but I didn¡¯t want to try the brute force option unless I had no other methods available.

    I paused to think.  My problem was that the life energy was too . . . energetic.  When that thought ran through my head I couldn¡¯t help but internally wince at the foolishness of it.  Of course, the energy was going to be energetic, that was like saying water was wet, it was a natural component of its being.  Still, there was a difference between it and my mana, even though both were energy.  Mana was slower, but also more ethereal, untouchable.  By contrast, chi was vibrant and moving, but also more tangible to my wishes, I just couldn¡¯t actually get it to respond to them.

    Maybe I needed to slow the flow of the chi enough to get a grip on it, the trouble was that I had no idea how to do that.  My late-night visitor had told me that to spark my mana into magic all I needed to do was to take a small portion of my lifeforce and just put it into my mana, the natural reaction that followed would do all the work for me.

    In the end, I decided to try and slow the racing chi by using a trick I¡¯d heard that cowboys used to bring down bulls.  I suspected that it might be more fiction than fact, a little something to spice up those Old West novels I used to read.  But the principle might work.  Basically, I would try to offer a slight resistance, then increase it slowly in an attempt to bleed off the momentum and slowly gain traction against the opposing motion.  With a bull, this trick was used to slowly tire them down, but that probably wasn¡¯t something that would work in this case, still, I decided to give it a try.

    As it turned out, it was a catastrophic and painful failure.

    I was successful in slowing the energy down somewhat, but this, as it turned out, wasn¡¯t a good thing.  At the start, I was able to push against the flow, and though the resistance was strong, with an effort I was able to maintain an opposing force strong enough that bit by bit I could feel the energy start to slow.  I had just enough time to experience a moment of pride at my achievement, then the world swam around me, I fell out of my meditative state and found myself sprawled out on the white grass, my wings uncontrollably twitching, my stomach heaving as though I was suddenly sick and my heart hammering in my chest.

    It didn¡¯t take me all that long to recover physically.  My body quickly normalized, the feelings of nausea fading and my heart slowing down, but it was the mental impact that took me a little longer to get over.  There had been a moment there where I had honestly thought that I might be dying when I thought that my heart was about to stop beating.  I couldn¡¯t really say why I was so sure, but for that brief second, as I simply lay there trying to get some sort of hold on myself, it had struck me as true on a primal gut level.  Sure, it had passed, and my heart had slowed, and I had lived, but even if the Grim Reaper had been standing over me, I couldn¡¯t have been surer that I had only just avoided death.

    I¡¯m not quite sure how long it took, but the sun hadn¡¯t moved too much so it can¡¯t have been that long, but eventually, I was able to get back into a cross-legged seated position and tried to work out what the hell had just happened.  Reaching the same state of mediation wasn¡¯t as easy as it had been the first time, but I managed it after a while.

    The first thing that I became sure of was that it was back to moving just as fast as before, maybe even faster.  The next thing I noticed was that it had somehow become more . . . spiky than it had been.  I couldn¡¯t think of any other way to describe it.  I could still touch it with my mind, and it still didn¡¯t hurt me, but the teeth that had been on the metaphorical chainsaw image that I¡¯d used before had grown longer, making it even harder to get a grip on the life force.

    I felt frustration beginning to rise up in me, but I did my best to just let it go, to let it flow out of me like water.  I wasn¡¯t totally successful, but at least my irritation lessened somewhat.  I reminded myself that this was a learning experience.  So, I hadn¡¯t found what was right, but at least I now knew what not to do.  Slowing down my chi was a bad thing, that was something I now knew loud and clear.  Obviously, the speed was somehow related to it keeping me alive, something that seemed blindingly obvious in hindsight.  Life is motion, and stillness is death, that was a simple concept, and one I was mentally kicking myself for having forgotten.

    So, how was I meant to transfer some of my chi over to my mana?  Slowing my life force enough to let me take out a portion of it was a no-go.  What else I could do, I was left feeling more than a bit stumped.

    I knew I needed a portion of my chi to ignite the mana in my body into proper magic, but so far I wasn¡¯t seeing any way to extract a portion of it, the flow was simply too fast, too energetic, I might as well have been trying to catch lightning with my fingers.

    . . . Catch lightning . . .

    For some reason that particular portion of my last thought persisted, repeating itself in my head.  There was something there, something that was important, but which I couldn¡¯t put my finger on.

    . . . Catch lightning . . .

    . . . Catch lightning . . .

    Lightning . . . that was it, I was sure of it, but the last connection refused to form.  It was something to do with lightning, something that could help, but like a forgotten name on the tip of my tongue, it refused to come to me.

    Lightning.  Lightning.  Storms?  Rain?  Wind?  No, that was the wrong train of thought, I was sure of it.  So . . . lightning, what did I think of when I thought of lightning?  Spells for computer game characters?  Superfast superheroes?  Gods of sky and storm?  Again, none of them struck the chord I was looking for.  What was it?  Why wasn¡¯t I having my lightbulb moment?

    I think it was that thought that finally did it, ironically enough.  As soon as I thought of the old image of a lightbulb over one¡¯s head signifying an idea it all finally clicked!

    Lightning . . . nothing but a natural form of electricity!  And electricity was lightning tamed, lightning harnessed to serve the needs of mortals in so many ways.  It powered all our machines and devices, it let us do everything from watching the television to spin drying our socks!  This lifeforce, this chi, I shouldn¡¯t think of it as lightning, I should think of it as electricity!  I shouldn¡¯t be thinking of it in terms of taking off a piece and adding it to my mana like it was water from a stream, I should be thinking in terms of wires and connections!

    It made so much more sense!  It was even in keeping with the choice of words that Emma had used.  She¡¯d spoken of ¡®sparking¡¯ my magic, or ¡®igniting¡¯ it, both of which applied to short shocks of electricity!

    Deep in meditation or not I could still feel the grin break out across my face as I finally felt like I was getting somewhere.  Not that it was a simple matter after that.  I now knew there was a strange dual existence between mana and chi, where both supernatural energies seemed to occupy simultaneous but different spaces, even as they were somehow mutually exclusive of each other.  Simply being aware of them at the same time had been enough to make my brain itch in a deeply disturbing way, and now I had to somehow bridge the gap between them.  Not something that I was eagerly looking forward to.

    My first attempt was . . . less than successful.  So, instead, I tried to focus on the mana, and then keep that focus as I tried to bring the chi into focus as well.  For a short moment, I thought I might have something that could work, but then a wave of disorientation washed over me.  I abruptly lost my meditative state almost as hard as when I tried to slow my chi.

    It took me a little bit to recover, not that I was hurt or feeling sick this time, simply a bit woozy from bewilderment.  That had been at once better and worse than my earlier attempt.  On the one hand, I didn¡¯t feel like I was doing any serious damage.  On the other hand, the wild shift in my mental perspective had been a seriously unsettling experience.  It was as though I¡¯d gone cross-eyed, but rather than it being just my eyeballs that were overlapping it had been my whole brain.  It wasn¡¯t painful but, for just that little moment, it had been as though the entire world had gone off-kilter, and it had taken me with it for the ride.

    Not fun.

    My second attempt was a bit more successful, at least in that there were no negative effects for me, but again it failed to yield the results I wanted.  That time I got the idea of trying to somehow get the mana and chi flows to occupy the same space at the same time.  I knew that they already did, somehow, but at the same time, they didn¡¯t seem to be in contact.  Two forces occupying the same space at the same time but not coming into contact . . .  It sounded like some strange reality-warping puzzle, sort of like Schrodinger¡¯s Cat, the one that is simultaneously alive and dead as long as it is unobserved.  That got me thinking about how the energies only seemed to exist to me when I was observing them, and that gave me the idea for my next effort.

    I knew that the forces in me weren¡¯t dependent upon observation to exist, but my trying to perceive them did seem to have at least some effect on them.  I thought that if I could focus on both of them at the same time, if only on a small spot, then I might be able to force them to interact.

    In the end, it was a failure, as I found it impossible to perceive them both at the same time in the same spot.  Sure, if I was willing to take the headache it gave me, I could focus on both the mana pathways and the chi aura at once, but that was only seeing parts of them side by side.  When trying to see them both in the same place it was like trying to have both ends of a seesaw up at once.

    I wasn¡¯t too sure how long I spent switching between the two as I tried to get them both to appear, but after a while, I had to give up on the idea.

    However, I had learnt that since the two energies didn¡¯t want to come into contact then I should not try to force the matter.  That was when I got the idea of something like a wire, a bridge between the two to make the connection for them.  It was actually pretty easy, once I put some thought into it.  All I did was visualize my will as a simple line, one that extended from the flow of mana and reached across to touch the racing torrent of my chi.  The ends touched and . . .

    There are moments in your life that will forever be engraved upon your memory, regardless of what you might wish.  Sometimes it¡¯s a humiliating event. Other times it is a heart-warming time.  These are events that are seared into your memory, and you¡¯re more likely to end up forgetting your name than you are to forget them.

    The feeling of my magic quickening into life instantly jumped to the top of that list of memories.

    The chi ran through the small connection with the same ease that one might have expected from electricity flowing through a copper wire, though as it did so it seemed to burn up the connection behind it.  Time seemed to slow as the charge ran along it, like the spark upon a fuse, before it disappeared into the stream of mana.  For a brief moment that seemed to last for far too long, there was nothing, no reaction, no movement, nothing to show that I had achieved anything.

    Then my mana ignited!

    When Emma had spoken of ¡®sparking¡¯ my internal energy I¡¯d thought she¡¯d been speaking metaphorically, but there was absolutely no mistaking what happened as anything other than that, an ignition.

    Up until then, mana had been largely colourless to me when I perceived it.  It flowed through me, but it had been transparent, like clear water.  It was something I could make out, but one that had no clear features of its own, save for its evident power.  Chi had been different, in that it had been brighter, faster, and livelier, as one would expect from the energy of life.  However, for all that, it had also been lacking in colour.  It had been clear and bright.  Up until then I had just perceived the internal energies of my body only in monochrome, and I¡¯d come to assume that was how it was supposed to be.

    In an instant that changed.

 Chapter 17: Making Magic: Part Two

    Chapter 17: Making Magic: Part Two

    I¡¯d performed the sparking while focusing on my abdomen, just above my navel.  It was an easy spot to centre my thoughts on, and its position in the middle of my body meant that I could bring out both mana and chi more easily than I would have been able to elsewhere.  As the sparking took place I let my focus on chi fall away as I concentrated on my mana, that was how I ¡®saw¡¯ what happened with all my attention focused upon it.

    In an extending ripple from the spot where the spark of chi had disappeared, my mana burst into bright vibrant colours.  Brilliant red, radiant orange, shining yellow, emerald green, dazzling blue, deep indigo, shocking violet, and every shade and hue imaginable in between, all of them spread throughout my mana channels like wildfire roaring across a dried forest soaked in gasoline.

    More than just the ¡®visual¡¯ display though, there was the raw sensation of power that seared through me along with the change.  It was as though my blood had been replaced by fire and ice at once, I felt strong enough to crack mountains apart with my bare hands, I felt as though I could shout at the heavens and call down rain, snow, wind, or lightning as I pleased!  I felt the earth beneath me and knew that it would heed my commands!  I drew in a breath and knew that I could expel it as the fire of a dragon, the poison of a serpent, or as a disease that could wipe life from the planet!  I felt my fingers twitch and knew that I could banish injuries with a touch, make the crippled whole, the diseased healthy, even the dead live!  I felt powerful!  I felt invincible!  I felt . . .

    . . . I felt that I had to get a hold of myself pretty quickly or else something was going to go horribly wrong!

    I remembered Emma¡¯s words and held onto them even as I felt the power growing within me.

    ¡°The problem is that after you spark your magic into life you¡¯re going to have to deal with the Surge.¡± My questioning look had made my confusion clear, so she continued. ¡°The Surge is the first swelling of magic after your mana is ignited, and it¡¯s pretty powerful.  All that mana that you¡¯ve been producing all your life mostly flows out of you, but bits of it build up, accumulating in your body and getting more and more concentrated.  It isn¡¯t bad for you, it doesn¡¯t hurt you, but it doesn¡¯t really do much for you either.  It just sits there for your whole life, slowly building up, and then it¡¯s all released from your body after you die as your flesh starts to break down.  Y¡¯know how some people have those grave sites where things just seem to naturally grow on them, like the grass is extra green, or the flowers people leave there take root?  That¡¯s because the mana has leaked out of someone with strong potential and has slightly empowered the local area.

    ¡°The thing is that you¡¯re a demigod, even if you¡¯d never Awakened your divine blood.  You¡¯d still have been pumping out at least twice as much mana as the average guy.  Now that your divinity¡¯s up and running though you¡¯ve been spending the last few hours putting out masses of natural mana.  More than that though, your body has been trying to spark its magic on its own, so it¡¯ll be doing its best to hold onto every scrap of mana it can.  It won¡¯t work, but it¡¯ll try, that¡¯s why when your Surge comes through you¡¯re going to have masses of mana waiting to be converted.

    ¡°This means that after you spark it, the magic energy you¡¯re going to have access to might be more than you¡¯re ready to handle, but you¡¯ve got to.  The Surge is going to try to go outwards, to escape your body, but y¡¯can¡¯t let it y¡¯got me?  What you¡¯ve got to do is compress it down, force it back into you until it starts forming proper magic channels in your spiritual structure.  That¡¯s not gonna be easy, far from it.  In fact, it¡¯s so difficult that most demigods can¡¯t manage it when they get the chance.  Well, it¡¯s not that bad, even if you don¡¯t manage it, you¡¯ll still get your magic, but if succeed then you¡¯ve got a chance of getting something special.¡±

    Her lips had curved into a smile then, a strange smile that was at once predatory and gleeful yet didn¡¯t feel like it was directed at me.

    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s gonna be tough, that¡¯s why most demigods can¡¯t manage it, but you¡¯ve got an advantage, your wings.¡±

    I¡¯d felt my eyes growing wider as I glanced down at my new appendages, then back to Emma.

    ¡°For angels, the wings aren¡¯t just extra body bits, they¡¯re where the extra spiritual structures are put, that¡¯s why stronger angels tend to have more wings.¡± She held up a hand to forestall the questions I¡¯d already opened my mouth to ask. ¡°Look, I can tell you about it later, right now let¡¯s concentrate on the important stuff, okay?¡±

    I nodded, and she continued.

    ¡°Your wings are like an angel¡¯s, okay?  Especially since they¡¯re inherited from Bath Kol, that means they¡¯ll probably have some of the spiritual structures that are inherent to angels.  What you¡¯ve got to do is, as soon as the Surge starts, force as much of it as you can into your wings.  This¡¯ll let you wake up their power as soon as you can, and that¡¯ll give you the edge you need.  Y¡¯see, the soul structures in angel wings let you control magic much more finely than most divine beings can manage without years of study and training.  So, if you get them up and running fast enough then you¡¯ve got a much better chance of being able to handle the Surge.

    ¡°Now, I can¡¯t tell you exactly what to do, everyone¡¯s magic is different, like fingerprints, y¡¯know?  But I can give you the basics.

    ¡°Establish a centre for yourself, the place where your core is gonna settle.  Cores are like . . . okay, when your magic finishes forming, it¡¯ll naturally form a new spiritual organ from which it¡¯s generated.  This is your core, and it can be anywhere.  Your heart, your throat, your guts, even your head, anywhere can have a core.  Don¡¯t think about it too much, just go for where it feels right, then force as much of the magic from the Surge into it.

    ¡°Now, here¡¯s the important bit; don¡¯t let any of your magic escape your body if you can help it, y¡¯got it?  Keep it all in you, don¡¯t let it get out, and then just squeeze it tighter and tighter, as much as y¡¯can, understand?  If some gets away from ya, well, that¡¯s okay, just so long as you recover as fast as you can.  The more ya can compress into the finished core, the better!  Don¡¯t worry, y¡¯ll know when it¡¯s finished, there¡¯s no way you can¡¯t.  Now, here¡¯s the important bit; when your core is finished it¡¯ll try to let some magic loose, and you mustn¡¯t stop it, y¡¯understand?  You let that magic go and do what it has to, trust me on that!¡±

    Yes, I could definitely see what she had meant about this not being easy.  The power inside me . . . it felt like it was trying to stretch my skin, like a balloon that had just been filled.  The colours, the life, the power, they didn¡¯t want to be contained, they didn¡¯t want to stay where they were.  They wanted out, they wanted release, and they weren¡¯t taking being denied easily.

    Still, denied they were, although I wasn¡¯t completely sure just how that was happening.  I could feel the power pressing against me from the inside, but my will was pressing back, sealing it into my body.  It wasn¡¯t painful, but there was an unmistakable pressure that might well grow into pain if I wasn¡¯t careful.  As to how I was holding it in, that was completely instinctual.  As soon as I felt the pressure start to build I¡¯d just . . . willed it to stay contained, and then something responded to my wordless demand.  All I knew was that I had a chance.

    Even as the pressure grew, I became aware of my wings, of something not quite right with them.  My new pinions were still strange and new to me.  That was hardly a surprise considering I¡¯d only had them for less than two days.  I could feel where they connected to me, where I¡¯d developed new muscles to move them, new additions to my skeleton to support them, and it was at those points that I concentrated my attention.

    It was something to do with the energies seething inside me.  The power wanted to escape, but I was holding it in.  However, it was when I shifted my focus from my body to my wings and back again that I realized my mistake.

    When I¡¯d followed Emma¡¯s instructions to contain the magic, I hadn¡¯t included my new body parts in my mental construct, because I was so unused to them.  In my mind¡¯s eye, the skin the magic was sealed into had been the outline of the form I was intimately familiar with, one without wings, so there had been not a sliver of power sent in that direction.

    But with an effort of will that changed.  I then felt the whole of the ¡®skin¡¯ which held in the new power running through me, and I willed it to flow along my back, reaching out to cover the wings that were now a part of me.

    To my mental vision, it was spectacular to see, beautiful as a sunrise breaking through dark clouds.  At first, my wings seemed almost dull, devoid of any flow of the mana I had seen in the rest of me.  Then, like water long held back by a dam that had finally found a weakness, the magic surged out, eagerly racing through the opened passages offered by the change in my mental partition.  With a sense of pure satisfaction, I could feel my new power cascading into them.

    I thought that I could tell what Emma had meant when she¡¯d told me about soul structures in them.  I could feel the magic that flowed into them condensing down into lines or veins, rather than just filling their forms like water poured into a glass.  These new paths of magic ran throughout the wings, through the bones, muscles, and feathers, and I could feel the magic growing stronger as it did so.  What was even stranger was the layout of these new channels.  They were perfectly symmetrical, every single line perfectly mirrored on the other wing, and they didn¡¯t seem to be set up like some sort of circulatory system.

    They didn¡¯t look organic, that was the best way that I could think of to describe them.  When I saw them in my mind¡¯s eye they didn¡¯t run through the wings like veins, they didn¡¯t connect with thicker arteries to the main muscles, nor did they run along the bones as you would have expected.  Instead, they formed a pattern that was clearly fit for some function that I didn¡¯t understand.  The way that the lines ran looked less like parts of a body and more like some sort of living three-dimensional circuits.  The lines themselves were too even and straight, they clustered in certain places, creating areas of concentrated power, and looped around ¡®empty¡¯ areas to form blank spots that seemed to have someplace in the design.  All of it was intricately sophisticated and almost artfully beautiful.

    And it was powerful!

    As soon as the structures finished forming it was as though something just clicked into place in my mind, and suddenly the wings that had been foreign and unfamiliar new additions to my body were as much a part of me as the fingers I¡¯d possessed since the moment of my birth!  I knew them, I felt them, and more than that, I understood the basics of how to use them!

    The power in me was still struggling to get out, letting some of it flow into the wings had momentarily relieved the pressure, but it had come back almost as fast.  It was as though after being given a bit of freedom it resented being held back once more and was redoubling its earlier efforts to escape. I could feel it pressing against the restraining skin of will I was using to hold it within my body.  It felt like a balloon getting ready to pop, stretched taut under internal pressure.  More than just that, I could feel it pressing against my will as well.  The restraining aura might have a presence, one I could feel through my body and feel under my skin, but the sensation of it pressing against my mind as I tried to reinforce the aura was the most taxing thing about it.

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    I knew that I had to do something before I lost all control.  Emma had said my wings were my advantage, that they would let me tame this magic that was trying to run wild, so I had to put my trust in those words and hope they were true.  She¡¯d said it was the soul structures in the wings that would help me, so that was where I shoved my will.  I had no idea how to use these new channels, even with my new connection to them, so all I could do was mentally drive the idea that I wanted to condense my magic down at them and hope there was some useful result.

    The structures in my wings seemed to come alive, the magic that had made them up firming and solidifying until they in turn began to channel more magic through them.  The original lines gained even more vibrancy as the power ran through them.  Then the clusters woke up, there wasn¡¯t any other way to describe it, and I felt my mind . . . not grow, that would imply greater size, rather it was as though a door opened in my head and I suddenly understood that I had new options open to me.

    Granted, the options were only basic.  These wings, I could see them doing so much, but at the moment it was as though I¡¯d been given a new supercar, but only knew how to turn the lights on and operate the radio.  It wasn¡¯t much, only the barest fraction of what those structures were capable of when used with skill, but it was enough for what I needed.

    The magic running wild within me began to relent in its pressure as a new force was brought to bear upon it.  My will, refined and enhanced by the structures in my wings pressed upon it, enforcing my desires upon the roiling contained hurricane of ignited mana.  It had been at least partly responsive to my wishes before, but that had been clumsy and instinctive, the actions of someone who suddenly found themselves with a limb they¡¯d never had before.  Now I felt just as clumsy as before, still as inexperienced in the use of my will, but I had more power behind it.  I might lack finesse, but I could make up for it with brute force.

    Little by little I began to shrink down the aura I¡¯d been using to contain the magic of the Surge.  It was hard, really hard.    Getting up after being knocked down by Joan for the twentieth time that day had been easier, despite the bruises, aches, and pains.  Forcing myself to move during that fight at my Awakening had been easier.  I had to keep up the pressure on the trapped magic the whole time, not allowing any part of it to weaken or get too strong.  It felt as though if I pressed too hard in one spot then the containing skin would rupture somewhere else.  Instead, I had to carefully maintain my influence evenly across the entire aura as I slowly pushed it down to a smaller and smaller size.

    At first, the aura was a slowly shrinking version of me, one with arms and legs and wings.  But as I worked on condensing it down I tried to reshape it into a more uniform shape.  I wanted a sphere, a simple form that I could easily apply even pressure to.  The condensing magic seemed to respond more readily to my attempts to reshape it than it did to my efforts to compress it.  I¡¯d managed to condense the contained energies into a large blob the size of my chest with short stubs that had been my extremities.  I felt I was making progress and let my guard down.

    Maybe I pushed too hard in one place without noticing, maybe my concentration slipped, and I left a spot weakened.  Whatever the case, a sudden jet of released magic burst out of the spot where my navel would have been on the condensed magic before it lost most of its human shape.  The sheer force of the sudden eruption caught me by surprise but I was able to quickly rally back.

    Closing the breech was difficult, especially as I had to maintain the rest of the containment as I did so, but I was able to manage it in fairly short order.  Even though the effort of it made my brain pound.  Power had been lost, a significant amount.  I could feel the pressure lessening somewhat, which was probably the only reason I was able to keep the contained magic from rupturing elsewhere.  As soon as the containing skin was whole again I began to compress once more.

    Smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter, that was my mantra as I kept at it.  My headache grew worse and worse as the lump shrank to the size of a watermelon, then to a football, then a grapefruit, then a cricket ball.  By that point, it was taking all my focus to keep it contained, and it felt as though I was trying to hold the sun in my hands.  I could almost feel myself starting to fray at the edges, and even through my meditation I could feel the sweat beading on my brow and face, feel my teeth gritting together as I strove to press it down just a bit more!

    . . . More . . .

    . . . More!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Had the aggregate of hellish energies been more aware then it would have found itself trapped between a combination of agony and ecstasy.

    About it the reserve of power it had been hiding within had sparked into life, dormant might surging with vitality, with possibilities, with magic!  Such power, such strength!  The clump of malevolent energies greedily began to consume all could.  The demigod may have gained power from catalysing his stored power in this way, but it had also made himself more vulnerable to the parasitic energies hiding within him.  Magic such as this was easily converted, and as the host had sparked his magic the aggregate was able to consume and corrupt more power than it had in all the days it had been hiding within its host.

    More than that, the malignant growth of energies could feel paths opening that had been sealed before.  The demigod was reaching into his well of might, and in so doing he was opening the defences that had kept the hell-born energies trapped.  The primitive and unsophisticated drives that constituted its mind slowly came to a conclusion.  It could not be called a plan, but it was an intention.

    It would feast, it would grow stronger, and then it would flood through the open channels within its foolish host and consume him from within.

    As though to mock the desires of the hellish creatures, the instant it settled upon what to do the environment about it changed.  Pressure, unbelievable pressure bore down upon it, crushing it, trying to squeeze it from existence.  Without thought the mass of hell-born power condensed once more, hardening its exterior and increasing its internal pressure in an attempt to endure.  Ironically the pressure served to further feed the aggregate, more power being forced into it even as it struggled to survive.

    But it did.  The pressure crushed it, and the remnants of holy power burnt it, but it endured, it fed, it grew, and bit by bit it adapted.

    It should not have been possible but for two reasons. The combination of it having infected its host while he was vulnerable and it being able to feed upon his rich and defenceless pool of power had allowed the hellish energies the opportunity they needed.  They had gained resistance to their host¡¯s internal protections, and they were using his own power to fuel their adaptation.

    Still, it was not sustainable.  Mindless though the aggregate of malevolent power might be, it responded to the growing pressure.  At some point, the crushing force would surpass its ability to adapt, and then it would be doomed, eradicated.  Inaction was death, delay was surrender.

    Despite the forces bearing down upon it, trying to hold it in place, trying to expunge it, the collective of hell-born power moved, forcing its way along the channels of essence it had felt earlier.  The pressure increased, the narrower environment more punishing than the pool of power it had swum in before, but the hellish parasite endured and continued.  There was an opportunity that could be seized, a weakness that could be attacked.  With all the tenacity of a tick buried deep and sucking blood, the aggregate of dark energies forced its way on, swimming, scrabbling, growing and discarding limbs of malignant energy as it advanced.  It spread, forcing its way on, but leaving a trail of contaminated power and corruption in its wake.

    On and on it forced itself, feeding, suffering, enduring.  It was no longer the concentrated mass of energy it had been.  It had allowed itself to become defuse as it made its way through the channels of power of its host, letting tendrils of itself extend through other lines of internal energy as it passed them.  Like some sort of invading plague it spread, devoured and grew, yet remained so defuse, so thin, that it was undetected.  The nature of the demigod¡¯s internal energy still burnt at it, but the threads that spread out were just strong enough to survive, at least for a short time.

    It would have to be enough.  The aggregate would endure, it would persevere, it would continue.  All for one goal that was written into its being as surely as the will to live was in any mortal being.

    The demigod had to die!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I could feel it coming together!

    My head was throbbing from the effort of keeping my concentration focused.  My skin felt as though it was stretched from holding in the pounding of my heart.  My muscles burned as though I¡¯d forced myself to work through Joan¡¯s training for a whole day without rest.  Still, none of it mattered, none of it held back the mad grin I could feel splitting my face.

    I was so close I could practically taste it!  The tight ball of power was so close to perfection, I could feel it, the last resistance giving way to the pressure I was applying, getting close to the point where . . .

    There! The magic had reached a point of critical mass.  All that magic shoved together, so close, so potent, it was reinforcing itself, a metamorphosis from concentrated ambient energy into a true structure.  It was a miracle taking place.  It was almost disappointing that I was the only one there to witness it.

    Miracle it might have been, but I was more concerned with regaining my mental balance as the vast pressure on my psyche finally relented as the magic turned inwards.  The crystallized energy structure settled into place just below my heart, even as I finally fell out of my meditative state.  Quite literally so, as I found myself tipping over, one wing propping me up the only thing preventing me from completely collapsing.  I couldn¡¯t stop though, I had the bone-deep certainty that this wasn¡¯t finished, the magic might have formed my core, but the process wasn¡¯t complete.

    My weakness passed quickly though, the pressure in my head subsiding to merely a dull ache so fast that it was almost scary. The same was true of the rest of me, the sweat faded away, the twinges I¡¯d been feeling in my muscles were gone, even my jaw no longer ached.

    I could feel the core now, something new and warm sitting just beneath my heart, pulsing in time with each beat.  I could also feel that it wasn¡¯t . . . finished.  It was still changing, still advancing to a state where it would be complete.  Energies were still settling into place, connections being strengthened as power flooded through them for the first time.  I could feel it all, my awareness of my own being, shockingly clear.  There was just so much, so much I could never have imagined.  It was so beautiful, so complex but so elegantly simple.  It was almost a work of art, it was almost-

    Something was wrong!

    The absolute certainty slammed into me only a split second before the pain did.  It was almost a physical force, slamming me forward even as my arms instinctively came up to catch me, my dead beneath me, even as my weight held them in place.  Behind me my wings jerked, the blade-like feathers cutting into the ground, scraping on buried pebbles.  I felt all of it, but I didn¡¯t care.  I couldn¡¯t even scream as a red-hot poker seemed to be trying to dig its way out of the spot where my neck met my spine.

    But even as sudden and shocking as the pain was what made it even worse was the searing awareness of what was happening.  It was as though my perspective had shifted, and what I had previously seen as nothing but shadows and overlapping colours was revealed to be . . . something else.

    Wrong!  Wrong!  It was all wrong!  That taint, that sickly oily blackness shouldn¡¯t be there!  The knowledge was visceral and absolute, with no room for doubt at all.  The blackness was utterly foreign to me, and the sight of it was as disgusting and terrifying as the sight of a worm moving beneath my skin would have been!

    For a moment I couldn¡¯t do anything, fear, revulsion and sheer pain paralysing me.  but as I felt the black stain within the channels of my magic moving again I was shocked from my stupor.  Opening my mouth, I tried to shout, to draw the attention of either Joan or Hadriel from the farmhouse.  I also tried to get up, tried to run to get help or get a knife to try and cut the disgusting mass out of myself.  I tried.

    But I did nothing.

    My mouth opened, but no sound came out.  My limbs trembled but didn¡¯t budge an inch.  No matter what I did I couldn¡¯t make my body respond!  For a moment I didn¡¯t understand, then that strange awareness of myself narrowed in on the spot where the pain was greatest, where it burned as if scorching nails were being hammered into my back.

    The thick seething mass of . . . whatever the hell that blackness was, had concentrated itself to that very spot.  Tendrils of it ran off through the rest of me, contaminating nearly half of the magical circulation system I was still trying to come to grips with.  The main mass was digging its way up along my spine, wriggling through the passage that connected my head to the rest of the system of magical channels running through me, but seemed to have paused in place.

    I tried to move again, tried to do anything, but it was as though only a tiny part of my wishes was making it to the rest of me.  I tried to reach up and all my arm did was twitch.  I tried to get up, and all my legs did was shudder slightly.

    Helpless, all I could do was scream in my head as I felt my power leave my control!

 Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation: Part One

    Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation

    Joan was wrenched from her sleep by the sudden sensation of a wave of raw power sweeping over her.

    She was out of her bed in an instant, idly offering thanks that she¡¯d fallen asleep in the leather leggings and tunic that she wore under her armour.  One hand wiped at her mouth and the other tightened around the hilt of her sword, as she dashed out of her bedroom.  It only took her a couple of seconds to get from her room to the back door of the farmhouse and the sight that greeted her there.

    Adam was out there, in the distance.  It took her a moment to spot him, her mystic senses pinpointing him before she drew close enough for her enhanced eyes to find his form.  He was sat in the white grass and bent over almost double.

    Power radiated from him like heat from a furnace.  There was the bright, holy might of the High Heavens, but it was only one power among many.  The waves of power pouring from her charge were strong, but contrary to her expectations there was almost no purity to them.  Instead, it was as though she could sense . . . everything from him.  Fire, water, ice, wind, darkness, shadow, sunshine, volcanic magma, all that and so much more, it was all in the huge aura that was flaring around him.  Mana and magic of a myriad of possible types roiled around him, Types that should have clashed and fought somehow existing in perfect harmony with each other.

    Her rush to close with her charge faltered as she gazed at the growing corona of disparate powers.  It was beautiful, bewitching in its complexity and majesty, but against all reason, she felt a dread growing within her.  For a moment all she could do was stand there bewildered, unable to understand how something so magnificent could have filled her with such disgust.  Then she felt it.

    Threaded through the beautiful tapestry of powers and elements were lines of blackness.  Not the darkness of the night, nor the lightless depths of deepest shadow, these were a black that did not belong in the mortal realm.  They belonged in a far darker place, a place where such inimical and malevolent forces felt at home.

    ¡°Mon Dieu, qu''est-ce que c''est ca?¡±  She demanded, not really expecting a reply, and surprised when she received one.

    ¡°Hell-born energies!  The mortal has been infected by hell-born energies!¡±

    The sheer venom in the words startled the mortal saint even more than the reply itself.  Spinning in place she saw that Hadriel was hovering beside her.  The expression of hatred and contempt upon the angel¡¯s face matched the venom in her words perfectly.

    The reborn saint found it jarring, unsettling even.  Until now the crimson-winged angel had always conducted herself with the calmness and self-possession expected of a soldier of heaven.  Still, Joan could spare no time to think on it, not when her charge was in danger.

    ¡°What is happening to him?!¡±

    She had to shout the words as all about her it seemed as though the world was going mad.  Winds sprang out of nowhere, carrying mist and dust upon them as they whipped about.  Above them the sun seemed to blaze too intensely, even for the height of summer, only to be covered by a black storm cloud that in turn dissipated into a brief flurry of snow.  The resurrected soul could feel the magic at play about them, the aura of mana surrounding Adam briefly empowering aspects of nature to manifest and strengthen, only to fade away in the next instant.  It was enough to make the world shudder about them though, the earth trembling, the wind whistling.

    ¡°I do not know!¡± Hadriel replied. ¡°His power is out of control, we must help him before he does himself harm!¡±

    Without waiting for a reply the angelic warrior shot forwards, towards Adam.  Joan hesitated, but then followed her.  Those energies infecting her charge needed to be cleansed, and waiting was going to be of no aid in advancing that goal.  She was uncertain as to how they would remove them from the demigod, but she knew that it had to be done.

    It only took a few moments for her to join the angel at the side of her charge.  During the brief seconds it had taken her to cross the distance separating them Joan had felt frost form upon her left arm as she passed through a zone of intense cold, then suffered a burn as some ambient electricity grounded itself through her in the form of a small lightning bolt.  To a normal mortal, it would have been worse, perhaps even crippling, but Joan¡¯s heavenly powers were enough to reduce the harm to an annoyance rather than a grave injury.

    Honoured Hadriel was already at his side, her wings extended and her power visibly extending into the area about her.  Joan could feel it overriding some of the wild magic close to her, ensuring that Adam was safe from the uncontrolled flares of magic.  It was something, but it would not be enough.

    ¡°I cannot reach the corruption within him,¡± The Angel of Swords all but snarled, frustration clear in her tone. ¡°It hides within him, using him as a shield.  Neither my swords nor my lightning can touch it without harming him!¡±

    The resurrected saint wordlessly nodded, then placed her hands upon Adam¡¯s back.  She understood, what the demigod needed was a softer touch than the warrior angel was suited for.  Once again Joan thanked the Lord that she had chosen to learn healing.

    Following the familiar steps she poured her internal power into her charge in a steady flow.  The light of Heaven that was as much a part of her as her own soul responded to her will, reaching out across the connection, colouring her power and granting it the qualities she desired.

    To mend, to heal, to purify of contamination, that was the nature of the magic she was channelling into her charge.  She¡¯d done it many times before, mending bruised flesh, repairing bones cracked in their training.  Before it had always been an easy task, but this time it was nothing as simple as a physical injury.

    The earlier feeling of revulsion returned with a vengeance as Joan became fully aware of the infestation of parasitic energy that seemed to be spreading throughout her charge¡¯s entire system of internal power.  For a moment she felt pride at Adam¡¯s accomplishment, his magic was fully awake now, and powerful from what she could sense.  However, that was overshadowed by her disgust at the energy tainting it.

    Hatred, envy, cruelty, spite, malevolence, she could feel all that and more seething within the contamination, the nature of hell distilled to its most basic and primitive nature.  This was not a creature in the sense that it was living and thinking.  This was an infection that needed to be purged.

    Her resolve firming the French saint pushed harder, determined to scour the parasitic energies from her charge before they could harm him any further.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The aggregate felt the holy energy burning at it once more, but this time it was a force that did not come from the form of the demigod it infested.  This time the threat came from without, the power antithetical to the hellish energies flooding into the host.

    Mindless though it was, it could experience something akin to pain as it felt the divine energies burn at it.  And though it had no volition, the command that drove it on would allow nothing to stand it in its way, so it reacted.  It needed strength, power enough to endure this assault, and the environment it existed within had power in abundance.

    Like some sort of malignant plant, the construct of hellish energies reached out with the thin tendrils it had left in its trail.  All about them was the rich and potent mana that had just been sparked into life, but not yet fully claimed.  Power ripe for harvesting, for the consuming.

    Before it had not yet been strong enough, but it had cut its host off from being able to influence his own power, leaving him vulnerable.  There had been no plan, no scheme.  It had simply forced its way to the greatest concentration of power and clung there.  Its success was nothing but chance, a fortunate coincidence, but one it made the most of.

    Like the roots of a tree drinking in moisture from rich earth, the tendrils leeched power away from the host.  Power that was further tainted and then consumed, fuelling the aggregate, giving it greater strength.

    Swelling in size as the influx of magic rushed into it, the creature of hellish power forced a portion of itself out of the host¡¯s aura, manifesting itself into the material world.  For a moment it experienced the sweet air of the mortal plane, sensed the stirrings of life about it, and felt the drive within itself to destroy them all.  Then it felt the burn of holy energy once more and lashed out, sheering arcs of energy tearing at the world about it as the aggregate blindly flailed with its stolen might.

    It did not see.  It did not hear.  It could not perceive the world in the way that a being of flesh and blood would have.  What it could do was sense the other energies about it, feel the sources of the holy powers that had seared it.  They were strong, but its wild attack had driven them back, but not far enough!

    No thought.  No plan.  There was just a need to eliminate them or drive them away.  Drawing deeply upon the host demigod once more, the aggregate of hell-born energy readied to attack once more.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel had been taken completely by surprise when the attack came.

    She had been concentrating on suppressing the wild magic in the area, keeping the random manifestations of elements and other natural phenomena from harming the demigod or the resurrected soul that sought to heal him.  She had known her power was unsuited to help him, but she had not believed the infection to be a danger beyond its infestation.  It was a poison to be purged, not an enemy to be fought, so she had left it in the hands of Joan.

    Hadriel felt she might have misjudged the situation when she sensed a flare of putrid hellish power behind her.  She would have spun in place, but a growing fireball claimed her attention, and she told herself that the flare was merely the poisonous energies being forced from their host.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    But when a searing arc of black power slammed into her, sending her tumbling across the white grass she knew she had been wrong.  Spinning in mid-air she turned to see her attacker, a black maggot-like growth of dark energy the size of a rat emerging from Adam¡¯s back.

    The blind eyeless head of the . . . the abomination flailed about, and each movement was accompanied by a great arc of dark power slashing through the air, sometimes ripping up into the sky, or tearing into the ground.  There was power there, great power if the burnt and shattered stones in the rent earth were anything to go by, and the angel had no doubt that it was being leeched from her charge.

    Another arc came at her, but this time Hadriel was ready, her left-hand sword coming up in a vertical swing that intercepted and dissipated the attack in a single motion.  The celestial metal of her weapon easily scattered the malignant force, shattering it back into its component energies, but the force of the attack was still enough to make her arm tremble.

    She frowned at that, seeing it as more proof that the parasite before her was using her charge¡¯s strength against them.  The energies were no great monster, instead, they were more akin to vermin. Such a tiny union of hellish power might be dangerous to a mortal, but to her, it should have been little more than an irritant, something to swat should it annoy her enough.  Dealing with it now, rooted as deeply into the demigod¡¯s body as it was, would be . . . difficult.  Her powers could tear the infecting energies out of Adam, or destroy them within him, but doing so would undoubtedly harm her charge.

    The angel¡¯s eyes flicked to the side, noting that the resurrected saint was also defending herself from the attacks.  Joan was more suited to ripping this monstrosity from the demigod¡¯s body without harming him, but she had likewise been sent sprawling by the unexpected attack.  She had recovered, but just as with Hadriel, she was having to hold her ground and defend herself.

    Lightning gathered in her free hand.  Not enough to kill, but enough to stun.  Perhaps her charge would be harmed if she struck the parasite, but the resurrected saint could heal much.  So long as the damage was carefully measured Hadriel might be able to shock the malignant creature long enough for Joan to-

    She had no time for further thoughts as another black arc of corrupted power came whipping at her.  The sword cut out again, scattering sparks of fragmented magic, but then there was another, and another, and another.

    The crimson-winged angel all but snarled in frustration as she was forced to defend once more, unable to prepare enough to take the delicate action she¡¯d planned.  She had to wait, find an opening, and take it when it appeared.  As she countered another attack, she felt a frown cross her face.

    Had that been stronger than the ones before?  Was this thing growing in power?

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The demigod had to die!

    The instruction, the compulsion, should not have been impressed so indelibly upon the malignant energies.  The order that drove them on had been an act of desperation, a curse hurled at an enemy as a vicious act of spite.  The imperative should have faded with time, unable to find enduring purchase on such potent forces.

    Instead, the order had survived, sinking into the aggregate of power even as it had feasted on the strength of its host.  The very power that let the hell-born energies thrive also reinforced the compulsion that would otherwise have faded.

    The command was now written into the aggregate of hellish energy on a level that the mortal mind would have trouble comprehending.  It should not have been able to act beyond that command, to do anything that did not advance that goal.

    Yet somehow it was.

    The thing that was formed from the leftover energies of the homunculi used to attack the demigod¡¯s Awakening had drunk deeply of the power offered by its host.  Much of the original energies that had comprised it were gone, burnt away by the internal holy magic of the host, or by the earlier external attack.  What remained persisted, feasted and grew, replaced what was lost by converting the power it could steal from its host, and as it did it was changing.

    So little of the original aggregate remained, so little of the original command.

    The original commands had changed, evolved.  The creature of hellish energies might have been able to slay its host if it mustered its full strength, tearing him apart from within.  However, such an action would have left it vulnerable, unshielded from the world.  It might even have caused the aggregate''s own destruction.

    Instead, the parasitic energy being was taking another approach, a slower approach, but one that arrived at the same destination, but with a better outcome for itself.  The demigod would die, but it would only be after the aggregate had consumed him from within, only after it had devoured every drop of energy it could wring from his helpless form.  It would become more!  It would become great!  It would become terrible!

    It wasn¡¯t a plan, it was more of a drive like a plant might grow larger in fertile soil, or an ant colony would flourish near plentiful food.  It was the result of opportunity, the outcome of a combination of drives and resources.

    Its root-like tendrils dug deeper into the demigod, draining more power, fuelling its growth, its change.  It stretched out further, reaching out into the world beyond the host, tasting the power there, reaching out with senses it had not possessed only moments before.  It could feel the sources of the power that had burnt it, clumps of energy that the aggregate instinctively knew was its enemy.

    Its reaction to sensing the threats was immediate though, the wild flailing of energy stopped, only to be replaced with something more concentrated, something more deadly.  The force it released became tighter, more focused.  Each attack sprang directly at one of the clumps of power that were antithetical to its very being!

    It would survive!

    It would endure!

    It would grow!

    And the demigod would die, but only after he had been drained to the last drop!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan wanted to scream with frustration, but instead, she remained silent as she crossed her arms in front of herself and focused to forge her light into a shield.  A concave disk of yellow energy sprang to life before her a bare instant before a lance of black energy slammed into it in turn.  The resurrected saint grunted slightly as she braced herself, the shield holding, but the force of the attack sufficient to unbalance her, forcing her to push back.

    The attack waned, and she could move again.  In an instant, she was charging towards the slumped form of Adam, power of a different sort building in her hands as she reached for him.  All she needed was a touch, then she could force all the corruption from her charge.  Before she had been too careful, too gentle.  Yes, using everything she had to remove the parasite would hurt him, but Adam would survive and recover.  If this went on too long . . .

    Another dark lance of stomach-turning energy came at her, the air seeming to scream as it passed.  This time the French saint made no effort to block, instead, she threw herself to the ground, her armour scraping on the dirt as she turned the motion into a roll.  It was a desperate move, but she was able to get up as the attack passed over her, pushing off into a dash as she closed in on Adam.

    Something rippled through the air as she approached him.  it wasn¡¯t a sound, not something heard by the ears, but at the same time, it wasn¡¯t something as simple as a telepathic cry.  It came through as a discordant keening, something she was sure would have made her ears bleed had she heard it.

    She simply felt sick, roiling in her stomach, bile in her throat.  She pushed through it though, not letting herself falter by even one step as she kept her eyes focused upon the maggot-like growth emerging from Adam¡¯s back.

    The blind head turned towards her, tracking her even as it built another attack.  The creature was fast, faster than she had expected, and its next lance of power caught her while she was in mid-step.  She was able to bring up her shield once more though, the attack scattering on contact with her construct of light.  She was off balance though, unable to brace herself, and the force of the clash sent her sprawling onto her back.  Yet another attack came at her before she could even begin to right herself, and Joan felt the start of panic form in her guts even as she drew on her power.

    Then red wings were blocking her vision as Hadriel was in front of her, the angel¡¯s crossed swords blocking the attack with almost casual ease as she stared over her shoulder at the resurrected saint.

    ¡°On your feet!  I shall defend you, concentrate only upon reaching him, then cleanse the parasite from his form!¡±

    There was unquestionable authority in the angel¡¯s voice.  Joan winced slightly as the earth to her left suddenly erupted into a blossom of stone spikes that came far too close to impaling her.  All about them the wild magic seemed to intensify, the fire growing hotter, the ice colder, the wind more violent, but she forced herself to focus on her target.

    Hadriel was before her, those great curved swords slashing through the air as she scattered one attack after another.  They were growing stronger now, but it was not enough!  The angel was just too strong, too fast, too determined.

    It only took seconds to cover the distance between them and Adam, but by the time they did so more than a dozen attacks had been thrown at them, only to be swept aside.  For a moment Joan had been certain they had won, then the final hammer blow came.

    It was the last attack, it hadn¡¯t come as fast as the others.  Those had been lightning quick, built and released in mere instants.  This last one had held, had remained as a seething orb of wretched power hovering above the blind head of the parasite.  The resurrected soul should have known something was wrong, but she¡¯d been too focused on reaching Adam, too focused on her goal.

    The blast of power spread outwards in a sphere, a shockwave of pure force tinged with the putrid power of the hellish infection.  They were too close, too unprepared for such a widespread attack.  Joan¡¯s eyes widened as Hadriel was able to bring up one sword crackling with lightning to shield herself, a testament to her sheer speed and skill, but it wasn¡¯t enough.  The crimson-winged angel was sent sprawling again, a few wisps of smoke rising from her skin where she hadn¡¯t been able to protect herself.

    However, she went down with a savage smile on her lips!

    The angel clearly hadn¡¯t expected the last attack, but she had been prepared for something and had placed herself directly between the prone demigod and the French saint.  With her very flesh, she had protected Joan, absorbing most of the last blast.  It hadn¡¯t been perfect, and the remnants of the blast still smashed into Joan as though someone had swung a hammer into her belly, but she powered on through.

    She was close now, the divine power rushing through her making the world seem to slow to a snail¡¯s pace about her, even as she pushed herself to move faster.  For an instant, she considered shifting to her angelic form but knew that would cost precious time she didn¡¯t have, even as fast as the transformation was.  Instead, she continued on, trying to drag just a bit more speed out of her aching body.

    It was only because of how she was forcing her power through herself that she saw the attack coming.  Not a burst, nor a lance, instead it was the wild arcs of power that the parasite had been releasing at the start.  It was weak compared to its more focused efforts, but it was fast!

    The arc came at her low, moving to strike her just below the knees.  Joan only had a split instant to react, even with the divine power humming in her veins and slowing the world down, so she went with her only option.  Muscles coiled, then launched her up and over the arc, the wave of malevolent energy passing under her feet with barely an inch to spare.

    She had no time to feel triumphant though, because a second arc came directly after the first one, this time higher up.  In the air, as she was the saint couldn¡¯t dodge, there was nothing for her to push off.  All she could do was shield her eyes with her arms and take the blast as best she could.

    The attack was off-centre, a fast but wild blast that scored across her left ribs and Joan gritted her teeth and wished that she¡¯d had the chance to don her armour.  As it was, she had to make do with her natural defences, nowhere near as strong, but they had to be enough.

    She felt something crack inside her, felt the sharp pain of crushed flesh and lacerated skin, but she ignored it!  The attack had hurt, it had slowed her down, but it had not stopped her!  Her momentum carried her forwards, and she came crashing down into Adam¡¯s left wing.  Pain robbed her of any grace, and it took all her will to bite back a cry of agony as the impact jostled her injured ribs, but it didn¡¯t matter.  Quick as a striking snake her right hand let go of her sword and seized the bend of his wing where she¡¯d impacted.

    The parasite started to move, to orient in on her, but she gave it no chance.  Healing magic surged out of her, all that she could manage to channel.  Instinctively she felt the dark threads of corruption running through her charge and directed her own power to scour them from his body.  They immediately fought back, the malignant infection reinforcing itself, tightening up, bracing itself to resist.

    Gritting her teeth, the French saint forced herself to concentrate as she pushed herself to generate more power.  She could not allow herself to fail!  It was not an option!

 Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation: Part Two

    Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation: Part Two

    I felt as though I was drowning in pain.  Pain, confusion, and a crippling sense of violation, that was all that the world was to me.  I couldn¡¯t seem to think, I couldn¡¯t seem to move.  All I could do was try to endure, try to hold on until something changed.

    Then something did.  A surge of light seemed to cut through the darkness trying to bury me, and suddenly I could think again, I could act!  The pain was still there, it still burned through me, but it no longer weighed me down, no longer stifled my every thought!

    My limbs didn¡¯t respond though, and my magic was still cut off.  At least, most of it was, but as I strained against the black parasite energy that had embedded itself below my neck, I realized that it hadn¡¯t managed to seize control over all my power.

    There were nodes of power throughout my body, places where the system of channels met at larger points.  I didn¡¯t yet quite understand them.  I didn¡¯t know if these nodes were small reservoirs, tiny cores, or something else that I just couldn¡¯t get my head around.  Still, whatever they were, they held power, and there were three of those nodes where I could use them!

    The first was near the top of my head, the convergence of energies practically in the centre of where my flesh-and-blood brain was.  The second was smaller and a bit lower down, behind the bridge of my nose, right between my eyes.  The third was smaller than the first, but larger than the second and sat in my throat, less than an inch away from where the parasite had stolen control from me.

    Three points of power.  Three tiny reservoirs I could tap.  The only problem was that I had no idea what I could do with that power, but I had to try something!

    I could feel the war that was taking place within me, even if I was cut off from it.  Two forces were trying to wipe each other out, and I wasn¡¯t a participant in the fight, I was the battleground.  The new power, the bright one, the one that had freed me, had the initial edge, but I could already feel things turning against it.  The darker power, the one that tormented me, was leeching off me, using my strength to fight.  I could feel it, feel it draining me bit by bit, using me as fuel to feed its own strength, and I hated it!

    I . . . pushed at the block, at the barrier keeping me from the rest of my body.  It was an instinctive action, something without finesse or control.  The power was there, I knew I could influence it, so I just shoved it against the blockage and tried to make it do something.

    The power seemed to rebound off the barrier, not strong enough to pierce it.  The pain in my back flared up, then dulled as the bright power surged forward, gaining some ground before it was again stalemated.  I felt a moment of satisfaction at that and thought I saw some way to help.  I could try to distract the invader so the bright power could make more headway, it was just a notion, but it was worth a try.

    Gathering up the strength I could draw from the nodes in my head I tried again.  Another shove, though this time I tried to shape it, to give the push a point, like an arrow or a spear.  I tried to break through again, and if I couldn¡¯t manage that, then I could at least make a distraction, either way was a win.

    I was wrong though, instead, I felt as though the shove had gone into a pool of water where I¡¯d been expecting solid stone.  I¡¯d been expecting resistance, an impact.  Instead it just . . . fell in, the utter lack of opposition throwing me off my balance and leaving me mentally flailing.

    Worse though, I felt the power I¡¯d just used fall away from me, swallowed up and ripped from my control.  Then I felt the dark taint running through me surge up, using the very strength it had just stolen to attack the bright power trying to purge it.  I could feel the healing power being driven back, unable to resist the strengthened darkness.

    Then I felt it, tiny, almost imperceptible, threads of darkness reaching upwards from the block at my neck.  Trying to get to the nodes I controlled, trying to get at my brain, my mind!

    Horrified I lashed out with the magic I had, not at the block, but at the tiny tendrils.  This time it wasn¡¯t swallowed, this time my power worked, and I could feel the threads burn.  But I could also feel more coming.  I could also feel something else, something faint enough that I almost missed it, but something that was so close to human emotion that it stood out amidst the inhumanity.

    There, buried in the seemingly mindless aggression, there was something that was . . . content with how things were, self-satisfied.  Something that was almost smug.

    At that, at feeling that tiny spark of ugly satisfaction, something changed in me.  Something just . . . snapped.

    Frustration, anger, outrage, all of them bubbled up in me in a tide that somehow swamped my earlier fear and despair!

    That force it was throwing around, that was my power!  Mine!  I¡¯d only just managed to catalyse it, to spark it from raw mana into something potent and beautiful, and this thing had stolen it away from me in the instant before I could fully solidify my control over it.

    I wanted it back!

    The magic crackled out of the three nodes under my control, and once again the current of power slammed into that black barrier.  Once again, I felt that emptiness, but it seemed shallower, not the yawning void that it had been before.  I could also feel something behind it, the barrier I¡¯d run into before.

    I powered through, pushing at the power with my mind, with my will.  It reached across the void, losing some strength but reaching the block.  Again, it gave slightly, but I could feel it trying to flex back, to rebound and throw my efforts back.  I kept up the pressure though, not giving it a chance, not giving it an opening.

    A surge of dark satisfaction ran through me as I felt the pressure grow.  I could feel it giving, straining, weakening.  The dark thing infesting me was being forced to fight on two fronts, and it wasn¡¯t strong enough to take both attacks.  All I had to do was keep it up and . . .

    My infant triumph died as I felt my attack starting to flag.  I tried to keep it up, to push harder, but even so, I could feel the pressure of my magic wane.  I just didn¡¯t have enough magic, the thought hit me like a punch to the gut.  The nodes in my head weren¡¯t cores, they weren¡¯t big enough or strong enough to generate magic the way my whole system could.  I¡¯d used up the power I could draw from them in my all-out attack.  Sure, they¡¯d regenerate in time, but it was time I didn¡¯t have.

    I needed more magic!  No, I needed more power!  The thoughts ripped through me as I strained to keep up the pressure for just a bit longer.  Every instant I could keep it up was more time for the bright power to gain more ground.  But I didn¡¯t know if it was going to be enough, and even if it was, what if the parasite infection tried to send more tendrils towards my head?  Would I be able to fight them off?

    Fear gripped me, but it was quickly buried under anger.  Outrage at my situation, fury at my weakness and hatred at this thing trying to drain me!  The mixture of emotions surged within me, hot and roiling, but impotent!  I kept on pushing, trying to hold on, even as I raged at my situation.

    Then I felt it.  When I¡¯d snapped, when I¡¯d thrown everything I could at the parasite, something had opened.  It was a channel, a passage.  I wasn¡¯t sure of its nature, but I could feel it connected my magic to . . . me, to my mind, to my feelings.  What came next was as simple as breathing, even though I¡¯d never done anything like it before.

    I fed my anger to my magic using that new passage, even though I had no idea how I was doing it.  I could feel the emotion wane as I poured it into my magic, my earlier outrage and fury cooling, shifting from a visceral emotion to something colder, calmer.  I was still angry, but it was all in my mind, more something I knew in my head than something that pounded in my blood.

    I wasn¡¯t sure I liked it, the way the emotion seemed to drain, but I couldn¡¯t argue with the results.

    My magic surged, vigour replacing the tiredness that had been creeping into it.  The barrier that had begun to push back faltered, fell back and began to crack!

    Anger might have faded, but satisfaction remained as I felt the parasite¡¯s block begin to buckle.

    I was going to enjoy this.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel had not been happy with how the situation had developed.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Yes, she had been able to help the resurrected saint get close enough to their charge for her to aid him, but once that was done there had been nothing else for the angel to do.  She had stood over the prone form of the young demigod as the lady Joan had poured her healing energy into him, but there had been little else to be done.  The parasite seemed to have frozen in place, its focus shifting internally as it sought to prevent its purging.

    For a moment Hadriel had considered attacking the exposed part of it but decided against it.  She knew more of the hellish creature was buried within her charge, attacking the exposed portion might cause the hidden part to run wild.  Yes, it might weaken it, but the internal damage it might inflict on Adam before Joan could finish it off . . .

    Having dismissed that course of action the red-winged angel had found herself unable to do anything save guard the saint and the demigod.  The battle had shifted location away from the outer world to within the body of her charge.  It was not a battle she could join.

    However, fortunately, or unfortunately, depending upon how one looked at it, there was little for her to guard against.  The parasite was frozen, no more attacks were launched, and even the wild elemental manifestations had ceased.  The warrior angel stood in the field of white, her eyes fixed on the black worm-like protrusion, waiting for any hint that it would once more act.  It was all she could do.

    Time passed.  Instants became moments, which in turn grew into minutes.  The shift from action to such dead stillness was jarring, but Hadriel did not allow it to throw her off.  To the side lady Joan made a small sound, but the angel was unsure of its meaning.  She could see perspiration begin to form on her face and neck, see the muscles coiled beneath her skin as her face remained set in concentration.

    Whatever battle the reborn saint was waging, it was not an easy one, that much was clear.  Frustration continued to mount within the angel as she stood tensed and ready to act.

    Then the silence of the field was broken by a sudden blood-curdling shriek.  It came so suddenly that it took all of Hadriel¡¯s self-control to keep from lashing out with her sword in pure reflex.  The sound was both alien and familiar to her, and this set her teeth on edge.  She had fought hell-spawn before and knew the unearthly sounds they made in pain or rage.  The shriek seemed to reach high into the air, drilling into her head through her ears.

    Her eyes immediately darted to the maggot-like hell creature as it flailed about, its earlier stillness was gone and its mouth opened and gave vent to a seemingly endless wail that would have made a banshee shudder.

    For a moment she just stood there, unsure of what to do, then her eyes widened as more tendrils emerged from Adam¡¯s form, the thin lengths of darkness floundering through the air in wild movements.  Hadriel could see them trying to burrow back into the demigod¡¯s flesh, only to be rebuffed, their ends unable to penetrate her charge¡¯s skin.

    That was all she needed.  Maybe attacking the main body would have been foolish, but it was clear that these smaller shoots were being expelled and were trying to get back in.  Stopping them seemed like something worth doing.

    Her sword whipped out, a length of divine steel more than four feet in length and sharper than a razor along its entire edge.  With the precision of a surgeon, the great blades sliced away one tendril after another, the severed ends caught by the lightning dancing on her blades, and burnt from existence before they could fall to the grass.

    The creature¡¯s screech rose in pitch as more tendrils were forced out, only to be severed by the angel, and as they burned Hadriel grimly smiled.  At least there was some aspect of the fight she could join.

    Swinging her sword once more she continued to slice any vulnerable tendril that emerged.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan didn¡¯t know what had changed, but the resistance that had been holding her back had suddenly begun to collapse like a castle of sand before the incoming tide.

    Her earlier efforts had initially had some success, but the malignant infestation had rallied, its dark tendrils tearing into her healing energy and scattering it where before they had been burnt away.  She¡¯d still been able to fight, to heal Adam and purify him of the black roots infesting him, but it was a losing battle.  The roots grew back, digging in deeper, forcing back her efforts.

    She¡¯d felt pain, felt her reserves of power begin to dwindle as she was pressed back, but she had not relented.  The resurrected saint had one mission on the mortal plane, one task alone, to guard and aid Adam West.  She refused to fail!  She refused to let her weakness overcome her!

    She continued to pour her magic into the demigod, supplementing her weakening reserves by tapping into her own life force.  It was a dangerous move, but it was a potent one.  Her magic surged again, invigorated, managing to stall the advance of the hellish energies in turn.  For long moments they¡¯d remained locked that way, a balance of power that she knew she would lose first.

    Then the change had come, and she refused to let the chance slip past her.

    Heedless of her own risk she pushed more of her life¡¯s energy into her magic, feeling the parasitic infestation falling back even further as she pushed on.  Pain started to grow in her heart, a burning pain that somehow made her shiver in cold, but she didn¡¯t stop.

    She was making progress; she was sure of it!  The smaller tendrils were no longer fighting her, instead, they were falling back, wriggling away from her tide of light and healing.  The thicker limbs, the stronger ones, still fought, but they burnt as they did so.

    She just had to continue for just a bit more . . .

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The aggregate of hellish energies tried to thrash, to rend all about it to shreds, to cling, to burrow deep, to burrow back in, anything to escape the twin forces tearing at it!

    Perhaps it had begun to develop some primitive shade of a mind, something that went beyond simple ingrained motivations.  It was aware of its danger, of being forcefully expelled, of the likelihood of its destruction, and it was reacting.

    It dug in where it could, trying to absorb more of the host¡¯s abundant energy, even as its smaller tendrils were burnt away.  It could take some power, but it was only a trickle compared to the harvest before, and even that drain was lessened as it tried to pull more.

    The host was fighting back!

    Its ability to parasitize the demigod it nested within was being lost, therefore it shifted to another course of action, its steps as mindless as water seeking a different path downhill.

    It was not simply the host either.  The antithetical energy pouring into the demigod was not relenting, burning its weaker protrusions, driving it back.  Even worse, the smaller tendrils that were being driven from the host¡¯s body were being destroyed by yet another external force.

    Any one of these the aggregate could have overcome, adapted to, or overwhelmed, but all three at once was too much!

    There was only one path that the two imperatives embedded in its very nature would allow.  Tendrils grew serrated, no longer seeking to invade but rather to rip, to cut, to tear.  Even as those slimmer limbs burnt, they sought to eviscerate the demigod from within.

    It would not go quietly!  If it could not consume the host, then it would ruin the demigod!  That power, the channels it travelled through, all of them would be ripped and torn and despoiled by the hell-born parasite.

    The demigod would die!

    The demigod must die!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I could feel my body coming back under my control, but it was a distant, almost unimportant, thing.

    What held my total focus was the network of channels and nodes I could once more perceive throughout my body.  Before, after I completed my core, I¡¯d only had a brief instant to perceive my fully ignited magic before it was wrenched away from me, but now I had the opportunity to see the full beauty of it.

    Unfortunately, along with my awareness of my system of ignited mana, I could also perceive the mass of black tendrils running through me like rotting roots.  Everywhere they seemed to be feeding, leeching away at the power about them even as they thrashed and about.

    Without knowing how I was doing it I cut off its feast.  I just willed it and the magic the putrid tendrils had been devouring seemed to harden, to resist its attempts to drain it down.  I could still feel the parasite trying to take more, and having some tiny success, but it was nothing compared to what it had been stealing from me before!  Savage satisfaction rippled through me as I felt it trying harder, but getting nothing as I resisted.

    My magic began to do more than resist, it began to squeeze the tendrils that had been draining it.  I tried to make the magic sharp or spiked, something that would inflict harm, but could do nothing like that.  I could control the force, the pressure, of the magic, but that was it.

    Still, it would be enough.

    I could see where it fought the bright power, where it was burning, and I could feel where it was being driven back.

    And I could see where it was trying to tear me apart from within.

    Pain of a different sort ran through me as the internal structures that my new form had developed struggled to remain intact as the parasite tried to tear them open.  It was a sensation like none I¡¯d ever felt before, as though hooks of ice were running through my blood vessels, ripping as they went, but leaving only cold and numbness in their wake.  In a way it was even worse than the earlier infestation, now I could feel parts of myself slip away, falling into a sort of numbed stupor.  It wasn¡¯t much so far, but if it kept going . . .

    Redoubling my efforts, I tried to force my way through the numbness and pain.  I wasn¡¯t going to let this beat me!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan felt it when the parasite began to attack Adam rather than drain him.

    She¡¯d been able to drive more of the tendrils back, searing the thread-like ones into nothing, but then their resistance suddenly fell away.  Like someone pushing against a door that abruptly swung open, she was left floundering, struggling to regain her balance.  In that brief window, the hellish infestation turned upon its host, its limbs no longer trying to steal power.  Instead, the tips dug into the vessels about them, tearing small rips in the magical veins, letting the refined mana spill out, toxic to the body once outside of the magic system.

    The French saint felt her heart freeze in her chest for a moment, then the shock was replaced with outrage and an icy determination.  Again, her magic surged forward, backed by her life energy!  Again, she felt the pain that burnt with cold in her heart, but she paid it no mind.  Rather, her focus was solely upon the parasite, solely upon its destruction before it could further harm her charge!

    Her healing energy washed over the torn conduits of magic, repairing the damage, sealing the rents and preventing the escape of more mana.  Once more the tendrils fell back, but they continued to claw at their surroundings as they did so.

    Joan felt panic begin to grow but forced it down.  In all truth, she was unsure as to just how dangerous it would be for Adam if his magic leaked out into the rest of his body.  For a normal magic user, it could have been disastrous, the unchanneled power running wild in their flesh, causing random mutations and eventual death.  Her charge was a demigod though, his very flesh was infused with power that would prove more resilient than a mortal mage¡¯s.  She knew the spilt mana could not be taken lightly, but she hoped Adam could endure it long enough for her to deal with the infestation.

    Redoubling her efforts she fought on.

 Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation: Part Three

    Chapter 18: Cruel Infestation: Part Three

    More of it burned!  More of it was forced out!

    The aggregate¡¯s existence did not include pain, but it was a close thing.  It could feel it¡¯s being shrinking, being reduced by the attacks levelled upon it.  It was diminishing, every loss taking a toll upon the power it had accumulated.

    To a living creature, a mortal or even a demon, it would have been a horrific experience, to have portions of one¡¯s mind and one¡¯s very being cut away; not so for the aggregate.  Its state as a barely alive entity protected it, made it inured to the horror that it would have drowned in had it possessed even a sliver of intellect.

    Instead of suffering it simply continued to follow the wills that were impressed upon its very essence.

    The demigod it infested must die before the hellish collection of energies were purged.  There was no other outcome that could be allowed.  It had sought to eviscerate its host''s energy pathways, but despite its efforts, the light was driving it back, undoing the damage before it could inflict enough harm.

    It just wasn¡¯t enough.  It would not be able to hurt the host enough to kill him before its parasitic existence was driven from his body.  Once again it pulled more of its outer extremities back, consolidating into a thicker mass near the demigod¡¯s core.  Its retreat had left the forces pursuing it behind.  The light would find it soon, but it would take precious moments.  The pressure upon it was great, but in its consolidated form, it could endure long enough.

    What it would do would kill the host, but the parasite would also die, the energies released consuming them both.  That was unimportant though, it would complete the wills that drove it on, and nothing else could be allowed.

    As mindlessly driven as ever, the aggregate began to gnaw at the core, biting, clawing and worrying at it like a hoard of rabid rats.

    The host had to die!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel knew something was wrong when the threads that she had been cutting began to stop being pushed out.

    At first, she had thought that perhaps the battle was near won, that perhaps there was no longer much more of the parasite to force out of the demigod¡¯s body.  Such a hope only lasted for a moment though, then Adam had screamed.

    The red-winged angel had not had much interaction with mortals throughout her existence.  She had had little experience with the mortal plane before the Pathways had closed, and afterwards, she had never given them much thought.

    She had heard them scream before.  She heard them scream as they burnt or broke or died.  But this . . . this was different.

    Perhaps it was his nature as a descendant of Bath Kol.  Perhaps it was because his change had made him more similar to an angel than she had suspected, but as he cried out in pain it sounded more akin to one of her brethren than it did to the agony of a mortal.

    Blood exploded from his lips in a fine haze as his howl became a cough, and the angel felt frustrated helplessness well up in her as she was, once again, unable to help him.  For an instant, she considered swinging her blades at the exposed portion of the parasite.  What point was there in holding back if it was already attacking her charge from within?  But before she could something changed.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I felt it when the infestation inside me changed tactics.  I felt it when it thickened.  I felt it condense.

    My magic lost the grip I had.  I was still able to keep up the pressure, but I couldn¡¯t force it anymore, not with it all so much stronger and more concentrated.

    Then it attacked, and I screamed!

    There weren¡¯t any words for it.  My core, the burning and shining sphere of magic that I¡¯d so painstakingly condensed and integrated into myself . . . it was still so new, so fresh.  It might have been strong, but it was . . . tender, sensitive like a freshly healed cut.  When the darkness attacked it, I felt it.  I felt it throughout my whole body.  Shockwaves of pain ran from my heart to the tips of my wings.  This time there was no sensation of heat or cold, no feeling of blades or hooks.  There was just pain, pure and sharp, without anything to dull or blunt it.

    For a moment I was paralysed, held captive by the sheer shock of it, but anger and fear spurred me into action.  I wasn¡¯t going to die!  I refused to!

    What came next was utterly without thought, the pain didn¡¯t allow for any thoughts, only action.  I needed to protect my core!  I needed something to drive the attacker away!  My own magic wasn¡¯t getting the job done, it couldn¡¯t get a grip, it couldn¡¯t hurt the parasite!

    But I knew something that would, something I could reach.

    Driven by nothing but instinct and necessity I reached out, my magic responding to my desire.  It was new, unformed, unset, still waiting to become something, but it still obeyed me.  Even with my core under attack the magic in my system and nodes responded, reaching out for my target.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    When Joan felt her magic being ripped from her control her heart nearly stopped in her chest.  And given that the use of her life force to reinforce her magic had already left it feeling weak, that was not a good thing.

    It happened before she had a chance to react, one instant she had been directing her power, scouring after the fleeing parasite, the next her magic was flowing away from her, out of her control and escaping her mind¡¯s eye.  Losing control of her magic like that should have been more painful, a violation, instead it just left her reeling unsure of what was happening.

    For a moment she moved to throw herself back into the battle, to burn more of her vitality to create more healing magic.  Then she felt it, her magic, still moving, still active, still ¡®alive¡¯.  Her eyes blinked, swimming in and out of focus as her attention was divided between the material world and the world of magic and energies.  She could see her magic racing through Adam¡¯s body, but she could also see . . .

    A smile touched her lips at what she saw.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel watched, somewhat stunned, as Adam¡¯s formally spasming right arm came around with shocking speed.  His fingers clamped down on the black and putrid form of the parasite extending from his back.  A keening wail that sounded like a musical instrument being abused, rose from its lipless mouth as Adam¡¯s nails dug into it.  The body tried to thrash about, but the grip on it held firm.

    More tendrils, thicker than the threads that had been forced out before, rose out of the demigod¡¯s skin near his neck.  Thick as the fingers of Hadriel¡¯s own hand, they moved like snakes, jabbing at Adam¡¯s hand with fang-like claws on their ends.  The wicked tips sank into his flesh, drawing blood.

    From the wounds, the crimson-winged angel could see light spilling out along with the blood.  It was a light she was familiar with.  Her eyes darted to the side, focusing on the kneeling form of the resurrected saint.  She still held onto the wing she had grasped, but her face was no longer set in concentration, rather she appeared . . . pleased?

    The light was Joan¡¯s, the magic of radiance and healing infused with the power of the heavens.  It was not magic that a mortal mage could mimic, not without their own connection to the High Heavens.  Only one that had died, earned their way into the Kingdom of the Lord and then been returned to life could create such a power.

    But it would seem that even if he could not create it, Adam could still seize control and make use of it.

    Hadriel felt a surge of approval run through her as she sensed the magic in her charge flow and grow.  It would seem that the demigod was not as helpless as she had first thought.

    Inch by inch she watched as the malignant composition of hell-born energies was pulled out by her charge¡¯s hand.  The creature emerged from the flesh as though it were being drawn from water.  There was no tearing, no blood, save for its futile attacks upon the hand that held it.  There was resistance, but it seemed to be failing.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Then there was another wail.

    Then there was blood.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The aggregate wilted before the attack, but even as it did so it maintained its assault.

    The light was everywhere now, spread throughout the host just as it had when the demigod had come into his power.  It was more defuse, a current rather than a flood, but it was still sufficient to drive the parasite back even further, its limbs retreating closer and closer to its central body.

    Then came the crushing force upon its outer portion, the grip that tried to tear it from its host, to drag it out into the outer world, away from its sustenance, away from its target.

    NO!

    It was perhaps the very first impulse that approached thought that the mass of hellish power had had in its short existence.  It was not sophisticated or complex, it was simply a wordless denial, a refusal of what was.

    The demigod would die!  There was nothing else!  It would accept nothing else!  It would allow nothing else!

    Every bit of its remaining essence drew together.  The creature that had once resembled the root system of a tree had instead become something like a huge maggot crossed with a spider.  The flexible maggot body extended beyond the flesh, but beneath it, the nine spider-like legs stabbed into the energy system and the flesh, rooting the aggregate in place even as they attacked the demigod¡¯s core.

    This was it, the last desperate stab of the creature that should never have existed.

    With all of its mindless hate, with all the malicious fury of hell, it stabbed into the core again and again and again!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The light burned the tendrils away and I was able to think again.

    It almost made me lose the healing energy.  I¡¯d been running on pure instinct, and my thoughts managing to get themselves in order almost interrupted the flow I had going.  I didn¡¯t really get what I was doing, it was like riding a bike for the first time.  You just manage to get it going, but as soon as you start thinking about how you''re managing to ride on just two wheels, you lose it.  All I could do was try to keep going, continue on sheer momentum and try not to let my thoughts get in the way.

    I was doing it!  Despite my almost losing it I was still managing the circulate the tide of magic through me in waves, feeding it my own power to strengthen it and keep it going.  In the space of seconds, I could feel the creature infesting me pull back, and I could feel the healing energies repair the damage the parasite had left.

    More than that though, I could feel my control over my body coming back!

    It was hard as I tried splitting my focus and keeping the light energy flowing through me as I started to move again, but I managed it.  The first thing I did was grab the bloated thing growing out of my back and try to pull it out!  Maybe it wasn¡¯t the smartest move I could have made, but I didn¡¯t care!  I wanted this thing out of me!

    There was some pain in my arm, but I was cycling so much of the healing energy through me that it didn¡¯t matter.  The pain was dulled, and what injuries were inflicted healed fast enough to make Wolverine jealous.  I was riding a victory high!  I could practically taste it!

    Then another wave of pain shot through me, scattering my victory like a house of cards in a hurricane.

    My core!  It hurt!  It hurt!  So much pain, it ran through me as though I was being electrocuted.  Jolts of agony shooting through me even worse than before!

    I turned to healing energy inwards again, sending it around my core, trying to drive the attacker away, but it wasn¡¯t working!  I could feel the edges of the parasite breaking down under the purifying nature of the light, but it wasn¡¯t enough!  It was tougher than before, holding together better than when it had just been threads and tendrils.  I was hurting it, but not enough, not fast enough!

    Again, pain shot through my core, stabs of agony radiating from it through my whole being.  Desperately I tried to use the healing energy on my core itself, but the power slipped off it like water on glass.  It couldn¡¯t find purchase on the mass of hyper-condensed energy.  It wasn¡¯t like flesh though, nor was it like my channels.  The core was too dense, too vital for the lesser healing energy to enter.

    More pain, more stabs!  I was absently aware of blood dripping from my mouth, of a wetness in my ears, but all of that was so far away, so unreal compared to the feeling of those thin barbs digging into the centre of my magic.

    I tried to focus the healing and purifying magic on the legs the parasite had created.  I could feel them, preserve their outlines, and get an idea of their shape and hardness.  The magic I¡¯d taken and reinforced ate away at them, but it wasn¡¯t enough.  I tugged at the main body, trying to drag it out, but the barbs and hooks on those legs kept it rooted.  I squeezed, trying to crush the exposed part, but even though it deformed under my grip it didn¡¯t break!   Nothing I was doing hurt it!  Nothing stopped it!

    One of the legs stabbed out again, and this time it went in deep!  Before the stabs had only gone in shallowly, just a bit of the points.  It had hurt so much, but it had barely been enough to pierce the ¡®skin¡¯ of my core.

    Compared to what I now felt that pain had been as mild as a spring breeze.

    This new agony flashed through me, so violent and so fast that I think the only thing that preserved my sanity in the face of such agony was its sheer intensity.  I couldn¡¯t think enough to go crazy from the pain.

    An instant seemed to stretch into an eternity, then I was back.  The leg drew back, offering a brief reprieve from the pain, enough for me to be able to think again.  Then I felt the barbed limb move once more, move to stab my core again, and my every thought vanished in the face of that pain returning. All I could do was react.

    The tide of magic meant to heal and purify surged up around my core again, burning the legs trying to stab it, driving them back for just a moment, but that was all I needed.  Again, my core rejected the power, but this time there was a flaw, an opening, the stab the parasite had made!

    The healing energies flowed in, and this time there was no rejection, no impenetrable sheen holding them back!

    Another shock ran through me, but this time it wasn¡¯t pain.  It wasn¡¯t pleasure either.  It was something else, something that shot through my veins like lightning, setting my nerves to buzzing, making my head feel as though fireworks were exploding within it, yet not causing any harm.  For a moment the world swam, awash in sensations that I¡¯d never experienced, that I¡¯d never even thought possible, then it snapped back into focus.

    The magic burnt up like wood thrown into a blast furnace, the vastly concentrated mana of my core consuming it with ease.  Yet for that brief moment where it burned, my entire core became that very energy.  Healing energy, cleansing energy, purifying energy.  Just a brief moment, but it was enough.

    My pain vanished as my entire body was momentarily suffused with that energy, my every hurt bathed in its radiance and the damage eased, if not completely repaired.  Still, all of that was only background action, something I was only distantly aware of.  All my focus was on my core and the parasite.

    While the light had healed my body and magic, the dark creature infesting me had suffered from it instead.  The spined legs that had been stabbing at me had all recoiled, their spear-like tips simply gone, leaving seared stumps in their place!  For that moment the parasite¡¯s strength was gone, stolen by the burning light.

    I didn¡¯t waste the chance!

    My hand tightened its grip, my knuckles whitening from the strain even as black putrid flesh dug under my fingernails.  Before the hellish monster could regain its grip, before it could cling to my insides once more, I pulled, every muscle in my arm straining to the max!

    Last time it had dug in and made me fight for every millimetre.  This time the resistance was all but gone!  I could feel it scrabbling, trying to grow barbs on its legs, trying to find purchase, but I didn¡¯t give it the chance.

    The healing energy had seared away anything other than the strongest portions of the parasite. The body and legs had remained intact, but the tips, the hooks, the spines, all of them had been blasted away as the light tried to scour it from existence.  The main body had survived, but its purchase had been lost.

    There was a slimy slithering sensation as I pulled it out.  There was no pain, but I could feel the parasite¡¯s leg writhing and wriggling as it tried to resist but found nothing it could cling to.  More and more came out, too much for my body to have physically held, but as I opened my eyes and got a good look at it, I realised it wasn¡¯t made of anything that belonged in this world.

    The edges of the . . . the thing that I¡¯d pulled out of me were blurry, as though I couldn¡¯t quite focus in on them.  I had the impression that something was breaking down, then coming back together so fast that I couldn¡¯t see it.  Then there was the way the thing moved; it was like watching a special effect in stop-motion.  Its movements didn¡¯t blur, despite the indistinct edges.  Instead, its movements were jerky then still, but constantly in one place or another.

    The maggot-like worm portion of the body was more than a foot long, while the twitching, thrashing multi-jointed insectile legs added almost two more feet.  The last of it came free and I brought it round in front of me, getting a good look at it with my eyes for the first time, not through the weird extended perception I¡¯d been using.

    It thrashed in my grip, but the movements were sluggish, dulled, putting me in mind of a fish pulled out of the water and slowly suffocating.  Maybe if I had left it alone it would have died on its own.

    But I didn¡¯t intend to give it the chance!

    As I pulled the world was starting to swim around me.  The pain, the struggle, the effort I¡¯d put into sparking my mana, then the horror of having almost everything ripped away from me, it was all starting to hit me at once.  I could see little flecks of darkness starting to form at the edges of my vision as the last of the adrenaline in my system burnt away.  My eyelids felt as though they had anchors attached to them, but I refused to give in, not yet!

    Glaring at the creature I held through eyes that wanted nothing more than to close I dragged on the mana I¡¯d managed to spark into life.  The magic in me, the power that I only had the vaguest of grasps upon, reacted to my clumsy efforts, pouring through me, becoming what I wanted.

    I spat one word.  A command, a curse, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure which.  All I knew was that I wasn¡¯t going to let sleep, unconsciousness, or even a freakin¡¯ coma take me while this thing was still about!

    ¡°BURN!¡±

    The magic in me went . . . red?  No, not quite red, there was also orange, yellow, even blue, but it all was part of the ¡®red¡¯ that answered my desire.  It flowed through me, gathering in the hand that held the black mass of energies trying to be a living being, and lashed out!

    The parasite screamed as it burst into flames!  The sound of its shriek reached volumes and pitches I doubted mortal flesh could ever have managed.  It was enough to jar my tired mind back to full focus, to drive my exhaustion back a bit.  Dragging all the remains of my energy together I narrowed my attention onto the burning form I held.

    Its struggles had grown violent, its earlier sluggishness gone as it flailed, trying to escape the flames, trying to escape my grip, trying to escape anything.  I held on.  The flames licked at me, but somehow I knew they wouldn¡¯t burn me.  They were mine, and they would not scorch my flesh unless I willed them to.

    The scream grew quieter as the parasite continued to struggle, but bit by bit its thrashing grew weaker.  Soon its body was no longer flailing about, soon the only movement was the twitching of its legs.  The smell coming off the charring form was disgusting, what I imagined burning sewage must have smelt like.

    I kept on holding on, not relaxing my grip, not giving the creature the tiniest opening.  At the back of my mind, I wondered if I was being cruel, watching this thing as it slowly burnt away, but in that moment I didn¡¯t care.  This thing . . . it had hurt me in ways that I¡¯d never even dreamed of before!  It had cut me off from my own body, it had tried to consume me, to cripple me, and then kill me!

    So, I didn¡¯t relent.  I held it there, glaring at it as its struggles ceased, as the flames consumed it, as my grip broke through flesh that had become ashes, ashes that broke down into flakes that in turn faded away into non-existence.

    Gone!  The damned thing was finally gone!

    As the darkness rose up to take me, I could feel a small smile form on my face.

 Chapter 19: All the Colours of the World: Part One

    Chapter 19: All the Colours of the World

    It took Joan a few moments to readjust to purely mortal senses.

    The feeling of earth and grass under her knees was the first thing to come to her, then the feeling of feathers and muscles under her fingers.  Sight was next, first as coloured blurs that swiftly sharpened into recognizable forms.

    The French saint¡¯s eyes widened as she saw Adam, struggling up to one knee, his hand holding something that was burning brightly, unmindful of the flames licking around his fingers.  As she watched, whatever the burning object had been, crumbled to ash which then disappeared.

    ¡°Adam, what-¡±

    Before she even had time to finish her question her charge fell forward, slumping to the ground with his eyes shut.  An exclamation of surprise escaped the saint¡¯s lips as she darted forward, barely catching him before he hit the grass.

    ¡°Is he harmed?¡±

    Honoured Hadriel was at her side, leaning over the unconscious form in Joan¡¯s arms.  The angel had stored her blades once more and was now waiting with tension in her stance as she looked at their charge.

    Touching her fingers to his exposed shoulder Joan tried to sense his health.  Her magic felt drained to near non-existence, and even her life force felt dulled from her earlier efforts, but a simple evaluation was still within her abilities.

    ¡°No, grace ¨¤ Dieu,¡± Joan¡¯s eyes closed once more as she tried to understand what she was sensing. ¡°He is unharmed, but there is movement amid his internal energies.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  Does this mean that he has somehow managed to catalyse his mana into power?¡±

    ¡°I believe he has,¡± The resurrected soul confirmed. ¡°You and I saw it earlier when it was running out of control.  Adam has succeeded in gaining his power, but I am uncertain of what is now taking place.  Removing that infestation has done . . . something.¡±

    She concentrated further, trying to make sense of what she could feel.  Adam¡¯s internal system had not been damaged, but it had been disordered. She could sense where the flows were not as they should be, too fast in some spots, too slow in others.  In some places knots of energy had formed, stopping the flows entirely.

    Such a disordered internal system could have only resulted in death in a mortal, the life energies strangling themselves until they self-destructed.  Adam¡¯s new divinely empowered body could withstand it.  She could see the flows beginning to correct themselves, his magic following suit.  And as the blockages and snarls in the channels of empowered mana came free . . .

    Joan let out a startled yelp as flames blossomed off to her left.  Not exploded, not burst, it literally blossomed, a rose-like flower composed of flames appearing as a bud in mid-air, then opening up into a beautiful bloom that simply hung there as though upon an invisible vine.  The first bloom was followed by another, then another, and another.  Soon the area about her was dotted with nearly a dozen of them.

    Joan tried to move back, to inch herself and Adam away from the small flowers of fire, only to be taken by surprise as another flared into being only a few inches from her neck.  The heat from it had been sudden enough to startle her, enough to make her reflexively dart back.

    Her grip on her charge shifted.  It was only a small thing, something that under any other circumstances she would have been able to compensate for.  But as her charge¡¯s wings dragged across the earth the situation changed.

    About them the grass went . . . crazy!  Some of it withered into dust, some of it burst into multi-coloured flames that seemed to dance in defiance of the breeze that gusted about them, some grew prodigiously, reaching up into the sky further than mere grass should have been able to, while others seemed to petrify into beautiful gemstone versions of themselves.  Joan endured it, letting the iridescent flames burn her as she tried to regain her grip on Adam.  An act made difficult as a combination of sweat and blood from his earlier wounds left the arm she held slick.

    As she struggled a burst of wind exploded out from Adam, a sphere-like gust strong enough to catch the saint off-balance and send her tumbling.  In a feat of acrobatics that would make any gymnast gasp in envy, Joan righted herself and landed on her feet, but the blast had separated her from her charge.

    Adam had slumped to the ground, but his wings had caught him, propping him up as the sharpened feathers dug into the grass.  He hadn¡¯t fallen all the way but instead seemed to be almost kneeling in prayer. The resurrected soul readied herself to dart in, to retrieve him, but a slim hand clamped down upon her wrist.

    ¡°Do not interfere.¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s calm voice cut through Joan¡¯s rising panic, freezing her feet in place as she turned to look at the angel.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    The angel gestured to the slumped demigod.  The burning flowers about him remained, and the grass continued its chaotic dance under and around him.  In addition, firefly-like lights of various colours danced in the spaces between the flowers, their movements oddly synchronized in a manner that made one think of a school of fish. It was an oddly beautiful sight, but an unsettling one with her charge so close to dangers, no matter how lovely they looked.

    ¡°That is not an attack, it is merely random magical manifestations.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Joan¡¯s eyes widened as she realized that the angel was correct.  Even though Adam did not move the various magical phenomena about him did him no harm.  The flowers of fire did not burn him, the grass that became crystal did not touch him, nor did the grass that burned or moved.  Even the wind that whipped about him did not so much as disturb his hair.  He was at the centre of it all, yet remained untouched.

    ¡°The parasite . . . I believe that it attacked him while he was completing the ignition of his magic.¡± Hadriel explained. ¡°The process was interrupted, unable to reach its natural conclusion.  Now that the hell-born energies are no longer interfering the ignition can complete.  What we are seeing are minor manifestations of his power, mere twitches, as his natural affinities receive ignited mana for the first time, and spring to full activity.¡±

    His natural affinities?  Joan glanced at the heavenly soldier, then looked back at Adam.  Fire?  Was that his natural talent?  Or the changing nature of the grass?  The wind?  And she was unsure as to what the nature of those swimming lights even was.

    The French saint emerged from her churning thoughts as she became aware of another change.  Where there had only been the sigh of the wind or the chirping of insects there was now something else.  It was a strange sound, one that started quietly but was quickly growing in volume.  It was not overpowering or dominating though.  Instead, it was a constantly shifting note that rang through the air with a heart-aching clarity she had not thought to experience upon the mortal plane.

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    More and more effects joined the dance about her charge.  Shadows shifted on their own, hazes of colour shivered in the air, stones rose from the soil, then sank like whales on an ocean.  Joan could only watch in awed fascination as the strange yet elegant interplay of energies and motions wove together into something beautiful.

    Minutes passed, and bit by bit the dance about Adam slowed and shrank.  One by one the flowers faded away, the shadows stilled, the grass returned to normal, until it was just her charge there, slumped and unmoving, though still breathing regularly.  There was a sense of power, a sense that the energies inside him had not yet fully subsided, but the main display of magic seemed to be over.

    As she drew closer Joan noticed a final surge of magical energy flow out of Adam.  Unlike the previous bursts, this one was unaligned to any element and was composed of pure and raw mana.  Also, rather than dissipate into the world about him it was instead . . . spinning?  It rose from within him in a clockwise spiral as it went up.  Its rotation was rapid and growing faster, but its speed of ascension was quite slow.  Bit by bit it came up past his heart, then his throat, then his face, until it was leaving his body altogether and spinning above his head like a miniature cyclone.

    ¡°What is that?¡±

    The question was spoken aloud without any expectation that an answer would be forthcoming.  However, to her surprise, Hadriel spoke up.

    ¡°I am uncertain, but I think that Adam¡¯s power is trying to form a halo.¡±

    The answer was so shocking it made Joan¡¯s mouth fall slightly open as she turned to look at the angel.  Halos, such as the one that Hadriel herself possessed, weren¡¯t simple decorations, rather they were badges of position, markers of rank and authority.  They told those that knew how to look where their bearers stood in the Heavenly Host and what their virtues and accolades were.  In some rare cases, halos also offered greater power to their wielders.  Increasing the power of an angel was most simply done by strengthening or increasing the number of their wings, granting them personalized weapons of greater power that were bonded to them, or augmenting their halo.

    For Adam to have a halo . . . well, she¡¯d never heard of any Nephilim gaining one, at least not on their own.  For her charge to be creating one immediately upon gaining his magic suggested that the angelic portion of his power was both strong and dominant.  Could it be that there was more than one angel in his ancestry?  Might it be that aside from Bath Kol he was also descended from something like an angel of the Void, or perhaps an angel of Craft?  It would explain some of the oddities that were cropping up around her charge.

    CHNNK!

    The resurrected soul was brought out of her thoughts by the odd metallic sound.  It sounded vaguely like the sound heated metal made as it cooled, but this was both louder and sharper.

    CHNNK! CHNNK!

    Again, it sounded, this time twice in rapid succession.  Looking in the direction it was coming from Joan realized that it was from the nascent halo that had been spinning above Adam¡¯s slumped head.  There, obscured by the spinning streams of colourless magic, she could see . . . something.  The magic kept her from making it out properly, but there was definitely something there now.

    CHNNK! CHNNK! CHNNK! CHNNK!

    More of the odd noise sounded out, this time in a rapid staccato, growing louder as they came.

    CHNNK! CHNNKCHNNK! CHNNKCHNNKCHNNKCHNNKCHNNKCHNNK!

    The sound was coming in a rapid flurry, a crazed mixture that vaguely resembled high-speed gunfire and the twang of a metal sheet rippling.  It was even more disconcerting to see that even though the gunfire loud noises were going off right over his head Adam didn¡¯t react in any way that she could see.  Instead, he just remained in place, his eyes closed and his body slightly slumped.

    CHNNKCHNNKCHNNK!  CHNNKCHNNK!  CHNNK!

    The tempo of the metallic pops was slowing down now, no longer the storm it had been.  At the same time, the spinning miniature storm of magic was losing velocity, dissipating as it did so and giving the two heavenly agents a clear look at the object that had been causing the sounds they¡¯d heard.

    Floating in the air over Adam¡¯s head were dozens of pieces of metal.  Some of them were just small, barely more than shards the size of her little finger, others were longer than her whole hand and vaguely resembled metal feathers, or maybe tiny, narrow wings, others were curved into oddly organic shapes.  The collection of metallic shapes clustered together in a clump as though they¡¯d all been drawn together by a powerful magnetic force, but that didn¡¯t remain the case for long.

    As she watched the segments floated apart, suspended by an unseen force.  Swiftly they aligned themselves, forming into a pair of rings, one inside the other, floating about four or five inches over Adam¡¯s head.  The outer ring, which was more than a foot across was made out of segments leaning outwards, while the slightly smaller inner circle was more vertical, though still slightly leaning.  Both rings were made up of individual pieces that just floated in place, all of them fitting together, but never touching.  The only thing that seemed out of place was a blank spot that occupied the space above Adam¡¯s forehead-

    CHNNK!

    There was a final metallic pop, and a metal ring came into existence in the empty spot, completing the strange metal halo that now hovered over her charge¡¯s head.

    It was oddly beautiful, despite its strangeness.  The metal that made up each piece was dark, but not so much that colour could not be seen from it.  As the light hit it in different ways it could be dark blue, then dark green, then a blend of the two, the effect making it clear that this was no mortal metal dug up from the earth.  The individual parts were also eye-catching in their own way, each piece possessing a subtle perfection that went beyond simple artistry.  It was as though they had not been forged or sculpted, but rather as if they had somehow grown into their current shape, and that shape was the one that they had been destined to hold since the moment the universe came into being.  However, even this was eclipsed by the strange harmony of the form they created when they all floated into their final configuration.  It was somehow greater than the sum of its parts, a thing of marvellous intricacy that was only made more perfect by the fact that none of the parts that made it up actually touched each other but were held together by an energy that existed between the pieces.

    That very energy was . . . strange as well.  There was a shimmer in the air, a suggestion that something was acting, but it was always seen off to the side, rather than where Joan was looking at the time.  The effect was somewhat disconcerting, but still oddly beautiful.

    ¡°Is that . . . a Crown?¡±

    The question was voiced by both agents of Heaven at more or less the same time, their queries breaking the quiet of the field as they stared out at their charge.  They turned to stare at each other, an unspoken exchange passing between them, an acknowledgement of what they were seeing and a confirmation that what they each suspected was true.

    Crowns were not to be taken lightly, not when they were normally only the providence of either the most powerful or the most favoured of angels.  They were an advancement, or perhaps even an evolution, of the halo that the angel would have otherwise possessed.  A halo might grant an aptitude for a certain kind of force or action, a specialization that angels developed throughout their lives.  A Crown, on the other hand, either denoted or imparted supremacy in a certain skill or power.  Whether or not it was the Crown that granted that power, or if it was instead a mark of the bearer¡¯s own power was uncertain.  Those that possessed them were the likes of Michael, Gabriel, Bath Kol, Metatron, and, when he had still been of the Hosts of Heaven, Lucifer.  They had possessed the Crowns of Might, Truth, Song, Command, and Glory respectively.

    For Adam to possess a Crown . . .

    Was that an indication of how powerful he was?  There had already been plenty of evidence to indicate that.  His bloodline was clearly tied closely to the heavens and the angels that served there, given the wings he had gained, but a Crown?  How?!  Something like that should only be granted to the strongest and most trusted, not to a man only a handful of years out of boyhood!  Not to one so freshly come into their power, it just made no sense!

    Then another thought struck her, and the resurrected saint felt a small chill run down her back.

    She knew that Adam was part of a Destiny, as in a part of the Almighty¡¯s plan, so that would suggest that both his power and his having a Crown were anything but random chance.  However, if that was the case then she had to wonder just what he was destined to fight that would require such power.  Just the sheer scale of power displayed so far was on par with a true god, possibly even a strong one, but a Crown as well?  She would never question the Lord in His choices, but it seemed almost . . . excessive to place so much power in a single young man.

    Which begged the question, what was he being prepared to stand against?

    With a small shake of her head, Joan dismissed the building spiral of dark possibilities that tugged at her mind.  Yes, it was likely that there would be something in the future, something that would merit such a power as Adam seemed to be coming into.

    ¡°Whoa!  That¡¯s the stuff!¡±

    Her attention was brought back to her charge as he suddenly spoke out.  It wasn¡¯t quite a shout, but it was considerably louder than his normal conversational volume.  Adam was no longer slumped, instead his back had gone so straight she thought she might have heard some pops coming from it.  His wings were no longer propping him up, instead, they were spread wide, stretched to their fullest.  His eyes were suddenly wide and intense.  He looked as though someone had brought him out of his earlier torpor by giving him an electric shock.

 Chapter 19: All the Colours of the World: Part Two

    Chapter 19: All the Colours of the World: Part Two

    Hadriel had not grown any more comfortable in her new role.  Naturally, she had every intention of fulfilling her duty to the utmost of her abilities, but even if it had been her creator that assigned her this task, she did not feel enthused by it.

    She was the Angels of Swords, the third to have held that title since the ignition of the first stars.  She was a warrior, a soldier.  She had come to the mortal plane to battle the incursions of hell, to ensure that the outcast children of Eden were defended from corruption as a new age dawned on their world.

    To be a bodyguard and teacher . . . she was unsure of how suited she was to the position.

    When she had first arrived she had been sceptical of the necessity for her to be here at all.  Yes, she had understood that the young demigod had needed aid to complete his Awakening, but she had not seen why she needed to remain here.  The Hallowed Sanctuary would have protected him and Lady Joan perfectly well without her own presence.

    To be sure, she had aided in the training of some angels that chose to become warriors later in their lives, but even that had only been cursory, simple supervision and a few suggestions and the like.  She was a fighter, not a teacher.

    She had fought in two battles upon the mortal plane since arriving here.  Those had been battles where her blood had flowed, where she had fought on the very edge of defeat, her skill and experience all that kept her from being struck down.  Where she had faced monstrous foes and been the one standing after they had fallen.

    It had been glorious!

    That was what she was meant for!  Battle, war, that was what she had trained for, what she had dedicated herself to for three times longer than the time the crucifix had been a holy symbol.  She could guard Adam¡¯s body in battle, but to defend against hidden plots, insidious strikes, and knives in the dark, that was another matter.

    Now Venduriel, he would have been better suited for this.  An angel of her generation, one skilled in shadow work and stealth.  He would have been a far better compliment to Lady Joan¡¯s skills, the blade in the dark to her sword in the light.

    Still, it did not matter.  The Almighty had given her this task, and regardless of her own feelings, she would see it completed.

    Before her the young demigod stirred, his slumped form tensing as he slowly struggled back to wakefulness. Above him, his halo made a gentle ringing noise, like a bell that had been lightly tapped.

    His halo, his Crown.

    It had been a surprise when she felt his energies drawing up the heavens to condense into a halo.  A surprise, but not completely unexpected.  Mortals with angelic blood might not be able to form halos unless they had some power to shift into full angels, but she had known that her charge was exceptional.  That his halo had been a Crown though . . .

    On the one hand, it was another sign of why this Adam West was worthy of the attention the Lord was paying him. To have inherited a Crown through the blood of Bath Kol was . . . significant to say the least, a symbol of authority that both indicated and imparted power.

    On the other hand, it almost pained her to see a Crown wielded by one with so much mortal blood in his veins.  A Crown was normally only earned by angels of the greatest merit.  Mighty warriors such as Michael, Young heroes such as Desminael, or great leaders such as Metatron.  She had no notion as to which Crown it was, but that was less important to her than why was it floating above this young demigod¡¯s head.

    Too many unknowns, too many uncertainties.  Never in her long existence had the crimson-winged angel found her life so rife with unknowns and mysteries.  Dealing with Adam and the questions that surrounded him was . . . uncomfortable.  Perhaps it was even meant as a lesson to her, Hadriel supposed.  The Almighty might have chosen to assign her this task in order to make her grow, to face challenges outside her usual areas of comfort.  Such was not unknown of her creator.

    Wordlessly the angel watched as her charge snapped back to awareness with shocking suddenness.  Above him, his halo continued to sing its quiet note, a subtle reminder of its presence and power.  There was going to be much work needed in the future before he was fully deserving of the Crown that adorned him, but that could come later.  For now, she simply waited as Adam completed the final steps of his journey to power.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Emma sat down on her bed, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves.

    The last few minutes had been nothing short of torturous for her, and she¡¯d spent most of them pacing about her room, trapped in a mire of indecision.  She¡¯d known what she¡¯d wanted to do, but she¡¯d also been acutely aware that following through on that desire would be catastrophic.

    The spell that she was using to monitor Adam was imperfect, imprecise and riddled with flaws.  In truth, she would have never used such a working if she had a choice, but the circumstances made it her best option.

    The many imperfections were the cost of the spell being able to work at through the powerful Hallowed Sanctuary.  By making it weak it could slip through the tiny vulnerabilities hidden in the Sanctuaries construction, the same weaknesses she¡¯d used to infiltrate it before.  Unfortunately, it was impossible to form a connection through the Sanctuary, its very nature extending across realms and planes to prevent connections and pathways from forming.  In many ways it was an almost perfect system, one that isolated the inside from the rest of the world in a manner that guaranteed secrecy and safety.

    But ¡®almost perfect¡¯ wasn¡¯t the same as ¡®completely perfect¡¯, something she had proven with her own infiltration.  The spell that gave her some idea as to Adam¡¯s condition was one she¡¯d set up during their meeting.  In almost every way it had been a rushed and flawed affair, but it was all she could manage.

    The spell was ironically fiendishly complicated, despite its haphazard nature.  It worked upon the principals of sympathy and synchronicity, a link that transcended the connections that the Sanctuary was designed to block.  The concept of the spell was that if part A changed, the part watching Adam, then part B would change as well, regardless of distance or interference.  Part B was connected to her, allowing her an intuitive awareness of the young demigod¡¯s condition.  It wasn¡¯t nearly as accurate as she wanted it to be, but it was the best she could manage.

    Earlier that morning Emma had been almost dancing about her room with joy when she felt him following her instructions and igniting his mana.  Almost all that he had done had been too vague, too undefined for her to sense, but the moment when his dormant energies had sparked into fully quickened magic had been impossible for her to miss.

    However, her elation had only lasted for a few brief moments, then it became horror as she felt a dark swell of all too familiar energies rise up amidst the knot of sensations and impressions that the spell provided her with.  For a few seconds all she could do was gape at the world as she frantically tried to see if she was wrong, if she was misinterpreting something, but certainty had come all too quickly.

    Hell-born energies!

    She was uncertain how they¡¯d found their way into Adam, though she had some ideas.  Those creatures that attacked the Awakening ritual had been throwing out plenty of tainted energy.  At the time Emma had been distracted by trying to keep the ritual from failing, but she guessed those energies could have been hellish in origin.  She¡¯d thought they had been simple demon-sold powers, the sort that ambitious and foolish mages gained by trading with demons, but if they had been hell-born, directly drawn from the infernal plane, then . . .

    That hadn¡¯t been important though, mere background thoughts to the crisis at hand.  What had mattered was that the demigod she¡¯d pinned all her hopes on was infested with the energies of the single most malevolent and vicious plane of existence!

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    Her first instinct had been to get to his side as fast as she could, to throw herself through the gaps in the Hallowed Sanctuary and be at his side as fast as she could.  She was sure she would be able to extract the parasite energies, after all, she was very familiar with them.  Unfortunately, there were plenty of problems with that.

    In the absolute best-case scenario, she¡¯d be able to help Adam, only to be caught inside the Sanctuary and unable to leave due to having exhausted her power.  Maybe, very maybe, the demigod would be able to keep his protectors from skewering her, but even if he did then she¡¯d be taken a prisoner and Adam¡¯s relationships with his allies would be a mess or worry and suspicion.

    A more likely outcome was that she wouldn¡¯t even be able to make it through, that the Hallowed Sanctuary would detect her hasty efforts to enter and stop her.  In that case all she¡¯d do would be to distract those inside, who were trying to save Adam, and pointlessly reveal herself.  No gains there, and she¡¯d be setting herself and Adam up for loads of trouble down the road.

    In the worst case . . . well, the worst case was accidently kickstarting an apocalypse early as several of the heavy hitters she¡¯d pissed off in the past sensed her and all came for their pound of flesh.  None of them would be willing to share either, so she¡¯d be the reason some of the most dangerous creatures in creation would have a throwdown that would probably break the world.  Good for her ego, not so good for the whole mortal plane.

    In the end she¡¯d forced herself to remain in her room.  It had been torture, but she had to remember that as things stood there wasn¡¯t anything she could do.  Time would give her more options, more power, but for now she was stuck with having to be a bystander.

    Letting out a sigh she let herself fall back on her bed, the feel of the old springs against her back oddly soothing as she bounced slightly.

    Barely ten minutes, that was how long the mess had taken, but she felt as though it had been hours.  She felt a wry smile touch her lips at the thought.  For the past few hundred years her existence had been one of mostly boring monotony as she hid herself, interspersed with brief periods of frantic activity when she had to deal with mortal drama such as wars or disasters.  Since the Black Sun and the opening of the Paths she¡¯d been having to deal with much more excitement than the last hundred years put together.

    It was harrowing . . . but it was also exhilarating.

    Closing her eyes, the immortal pass herself off as Emma tried to think what her next move should be.  Adam was coming into his power, that was good for her plans, but it wasn¡¯t anything that needed her participation.  The heavenly agents tasked with his protection should be able to help him train now that he¡¯d sparked his magic, so there was no need for further intervention on her part.  The same went for the bigger threats he¡¯d have to deal with eventually.  Even things like rogue demigods would have trouble getting past them.

    What she had to worry about was the smaller stuff, the poisonous spiders rather than the charging bulls, things she could deal with quietly, without showing herself.

    Of course, she couldn¡¯t just let Adam forget about her either.  The plan she¡¯d pinned all her hopes on needed him to feel indebted to her, enough so that when she called for his help he¡¯d feel he owed her his aid.  Helping him get his magic up and running was a big step in that direction, but mortals tended to be fickle and forgetful, even the most well-meaning of them.  She couldn¡¯t let herself fall off Adam¡¯s radar, she had to make sure that he remembered her, that he valued her.

    The problem was that she couldn¡¯t exactly talk to him casually, so making a lasting impression was going to be tough.  That had been what had led to her current plan, doing small things in the background that she could later present to Adam.  There were spells and items that could be used to prove her honesty when she did so, meaning she wouldn¡¯t need to worry about being disbelieved.

    Glancing to the side she saw the window to her room, a window through which she could hear the sounds of people leaving.

    It hadn¡¯t been too hard to work out that this small town had been close to the origin point of the huge white sphere of light, and that meant that a lot of people had grown interested in it.  There¡¯d been a brief media frenzy, but one that had faded away rather quickly.  Since then the town was being quietly abandoned as more and more people left.

    Emma wasn¡¯t too sure why all the mortals were leaving.  She¡¯d kept to herself and used spells to make sure that she wasn¡¯t noticed, her attention mainly on Adam rather than the town around her.  Maybe it was fear, maybe it was an order from the government, she didn¡¯t know and didn¡¯t care.  As long as the young demigod was in the Hallowed Sanctuary she¡¯d remain as close to him as she could, and this room was her chosen base for the time being.

    Sitting up she reached for her bag, preparing to see what she could do with the resources she¡¯d scrounged up.

    ¡°Alright, gotta get back to work.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Whoa!  That¡¯s the stuff!¡±

    The words slipped out as I went from a sort of drifting oblivion to wide awake in seemingly no time flat.  Seriously, even the most caffeinated coffee at the Well Grounded couldn¡¯t have managed to give me a wake up jolt like that.  That didn¡¯t matter though, not as I blinked at the world around me and realized how it seemed to have changed

    I felt the energies within my new core starting to twist about, drawing in energy from around me . . . which I realized I could now sense so much more clearly!  In fact, I could now sense the energies within me as well, the flows of chi and magic as clear as the shadows cast by the sun on a midsummer day.

    I couldn¡¯t actually see them with my eyes, yet whatever new sense I had, allowed me to feel the ¡®colour¡¯ and ¡®texture¡¯ of each of the forces that were now revealed to me.  The vibrant green from plants, the warm gold from the sunny air, clear wisps from the wind. These were only a few of a myriad of different tiny streams flowing into me from the world about me.  It was beautiful, a clear natural beauty that was as pure as a sunrise upon a crystal-clear day.

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s cool.¡±

    The words had just left my mouth when I felt my core still itself.  It wasn¡¯t a bad stillness though, not as if it had died or been petrified, rather it was the stillness of anticipation.  Then it exploded outwards, through me, through the earth, through the air.  I had a brief moment to wonder if this was the release of power that Emma had spoken of, or if there was something going terribly wrong . . .

    Then my world went white.  Then, it went black.  But strangely my mind didn¡¯t fall into the oblivion of sleep.  I could feel my thoughts slowing, quietening, slowly drifting towards unconsciousness, but it was a gentle drift rather than a fall.

    About me I could feel colours, colours that had concepts attached to them.  The bright molten gold that I knew meant something, drifted away from me.  The deep aquamarine that seemed to ripple with unimaginable depths.  The clear transparent diamond that spoke of strength, durability and something more.

    There were so many, all of them dancing around me in a riot of hues that made up my entire world, swallowing up everything else.  The constant flood of interchanging colours was mesmerizing, and I could practically feel my already sluggish thoughts slow even further as the colours pressed in.  Overwhelming.  Smothering.

    Yet before my mind could finish dissolving into a mush-like stupor there was a sound.

    That I was hearing the sound at all was strange, because up until now the only sense I¡¯d seemed to have was sight.  Even the colours that seemed to have a sound attached to them, like the throbbing red that rumbled or the whistling blueish white, were impressions more than actual sounds.  But now my world was now split by a crystal-clear note that seemed to resonate through my entire being.

    Somehow, it drove back the lethargy that had been threatening to swallow me up, sharpening the thoughts that become dull.  I snapped back to awareness, still feeling the tug of sleep, but at least able to think once more, at least able to identify the strange, altered state of my perception as being similar to the visions I¡¯d had before.  Even though the world around me was still swimming, normal dimensions seeming more like mild suggestions rather than strict rules, I still managed to orient myself towards the source of the sound.

    It was . . . not above me, up and down seemed to be concepts that didn¡¯t exist in this place, rather it was higher, greater, more important.  As if the concept of rank applied more than physical location.  And I was able to use that as a guiding point, a way to shift my perspective to find the source of the note.

    It was a ring of floating metal shards, the individual pieces hovering together to form a cohesive shape despite the disparate nature of its components.  It pulsed above the colours, dominating them the way a throne would a court.

    Around me the shifting myriad of maddening hues seemed to pause in place.  For a moment they just hung there, the world about me the product of a billion divine kaleidoscopes that had become fixed in place.

    Then they began to move once more, their dance every bit as beautiful as before, but now there was a definite change.  The chaos of before was still there, but it was changed.  Mixed in with the randomness there was now a pattern, an order that lent structure, even though it was a paradox.  More than that though, this change had done something to the very nature of the colours, taming them somewhat.

    Where before they had seemed to draw my mind in and threatened to melt it, now the dance was gentler, soothing rather than mesmeric, comforting rather than stupefying.  More than that, they were in harmony now, not randomly intermixed.  I could only stare in rapture as the colours danced twirling and swirling, but maintaining an order, red leading to orange to yellow to green and then so on.  It was a spectrum of shades that somehow managed to include colours that could not exist in the mortal world, but which boldly spun about me here.

    The colour of ice that burned. The hue of gravity¡¯s relentless pull.  The shades of time as it ticked by.  They were all there, alongside the red of roses or the blue of the sky.  Every colour that was, that could be, and that never had been.

    All there for me to see.

    Once more my thoughts began to slow, but this time it was comfortable, a gentle flow rather than a dark undertow.  Slowly I felt myself drifting away into slumber, the dance around me now a visual lullaby instead of an ensnaring trap.  Gently I let myself go, but even as I did I knew it wasn¡¯t darkness that took me.  Instead, the colours followed me, my thoughts becoming my dreams.

    I slept, and I dreamt of colours dancing so beautifully that it would have made even a heart of stone weep.

 Epilogue: Voices and Secrets: Part One

    Epilogue: Voices and Secrets

    The room was dark, with no lights in it save for the glare of screens.  Screens that showed little besides blurred human outlines or scrolling identification numbers.  In the corners of the room, outlets allowed a sea of wires to run into a multitude of devices.  Some were microphones, speakers, screens, technology that was sophisticated but easily identified.  Others were computer towers of some description, while others were more esoteric, impossible to recognise without specialist knowledge.

    In addition, there were scrolls carefully attached to the walls, barely visible in the dim light.  Each scroll was different, one depicting several geometric patterns, another covered in Norse runes, and yet another held Japanese calligraphy.  The one thing they all shared was the feeling of power running through them.  It was clear that these were no mere decorations, these were scrolls of power, magic every bit as part of them as the ink they were written in.

    All of this was needed.  The men and women speaking to one another through this complex system required a high level of security to ensure that their meeting could be conducted without fear of being compromised.  This was a meeting of voices, the blurred and indistinct figures on the screens were there only as a symbolic display of participation, nothing more.

    ¡°Is there still no development?!¡±

    The voice spoke in English with a distinctly foreign accent to it, yet every word was intoned with textbook precision.  Aside from that, the voice was deep, with an unmistakably masculine tone to it, the voice of someone used to speaking with authority.

    ¡°No.  The area has been searched by agents, surveyed with satellites, and even investigated with what mystic assets we can bring to bear.  So far there have been no results.  The area is as normal a part of the French countryside as you can get.¡±

    The reply came with almost maddening calm.  In contrast to the first speaker, this voice was so utterly lacking in distinction that it almost faded from the mind as soon as it became silent.  The message spoken was conveyed, but the voice itself was so bland that it seemed to melt away from one¡¯s memories.

    ¡°Are you serious?!  That flare lit up most of the Planet!  There were gods and magic users on the other side of the world that felt it, even if they couldn¡¯t see it, and you¡¯re saying it left nothing!¡±

    With every word spoken the authoritative voice grew audibly more frustrated, though it was clear that though his temper was straining at the leash, that leash still held strong.

    ¡°It is hardly a surprise that the source of such power would be difficult to pin down.¡± Another voice spoke, this one cultured, with a light Italian accent to it. ¡°Something of such might would not be so careless as to be easily followed.  Our agent¡¯s inability to track the source should hardly be a surprise.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± The first voice admitted, though it was clear he was unhappy to do so. ¡°But it does not sit well with me that there¡¯s someone out there with that kind of power and we know nothing about them.¡±

    ¡°On that front, I may be able to help.¡± The new voice broke in, this time feminine, a lilt to her tone that sounded exotic. ¡°We have finally been able to decode the readings that were taken of the Second Moon.  It is by no means ideal, but we have some notion of the composition of the energies that made it up.¡±

    ¡°What can you tell us?¡± The second speaker asked.

    ¡°There were several distinct signatures to the flare, though the exact number is uncertain.  It could be as few as two, or as many as six, there were simply too many different energies mixed in to be certain.

    ¡°What we can confirm is that the most prominent signature was unquestionably Abrahamic in origin.  We can also confirm that the signature is of an extreme level of sophistication, indicating that the progenitor of that signature must have been one of the archangels.¡±

    The ability to use technology to track supernatural powers was still in its infancy, but fast progress was being made.  The best and most secretly guarded innovation had been modified sensors that were able to detect a wide variety of newly discovered energies.  Supernatural beings and powers might operate on unknown rules, but they still existed in the framework science had been working out for centuries.  Background radiation, electromagnetic fields, radio waves, ultra-high and ultra-low wavelengths of sound and light, all of them were affected by such forces as magic, chi and divine power, if you knew how to look.  A scientist had described it as akin to looking for an invisible man in thick fog via the vapour he displaced, challenging, but not impossible.

    Of course, there were a great many practical limitations, problems that might be overcome with time and research, but for now remained iron walls.  A limited range was chief among them, distance causing the accuracy of the sensors to drop off sharply at a certain point until they became useless.

    Still, the technology could be made portable, and trained agents had been able to gain many readings from the supernatural beings that had integrated into society.  Apollo, Herne, demigods, and Nephilim, there had been many examples to surreptitiously analyse and compare.  Other data was gathered in the field, including a scan of the archangel Michael during one of his two recorded visits to Earth.

    Analysing the massive Awakening flare had not been difficult, even with the limited range of the sensors.  The ones available in France had been so inundated by the flare that the demigod might as well have been sitting on them.

    ¡°Were there any matches in our database?¡±

    A new voice asked, this one . . . breathy, almost exaggerated in its femininity.

    ¡°No.  Though definitely angelic there were no matches.  Whoever was the progenitor they are not an angel we have encountered.¡±

    ¡°What about the other signatures?  Were you able to identify any of them?¡± The authoritative first voice asked.

    ¡°Only in the loosest sense,¡± The lilting speaker admitted. ¡°Only one of the signatures could find a vague match, and even then, we can only narrow it down to a general pantheon.¡±

    ¡°And just which was it?¡± A new voice, this one with an American southern drawl, asked.

    ¡°As far as we could determine, the signature belongs to the Jade Court.¡±

    Silence pervaded the room after that announcement.  The situation in China was in many ways the realization of every fear shared by those of this gathering.  China was the only major nation in the world that had been completely taken over by the returning deities, an object lesson in just how outgunned military technology was by divine power.

    Fortunately, the Jade Court had not been interested in expanding their new empire, but there was always the chance they would change their mind.  Preparing for such an eventuality, or the possibility of some other group of supernaturals attempting their own conquest, had been a major reason this coalition had formed.  That such a powerful demigod had ties to one of their biggest collective headaches was not a good sign.  Add to that further ties to arguably the most powerful supernatural faction, the angelic heavens, and those headaches just got worse.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°We shall continue our analysis as more data becomes available,¡± The lilting speaker assured the group. ¡°But for the moment this remains the limit of what can be accomplished.¡±

    Again, silence met her words, the chamber quiet save for the background whir of machines.  No one needed to say anything, all of them were thinking the same thing, asking the same question.

    How did this change things?

    The problem was the maddening lack of solid information.  They knew the potential power of this new demigod, but that was it.  They had no idea as to their character, their ambitions, their actual powers, or even their nationality or gender.

    ¡°What of our other operations?  How goes the public image management?¡±

    The question was answered by a new speaker, this time with a clearly North American accent to his voice.

    ¡°The initial steps have been taken and are showing early signs of success.  Being able to influence the scripts of Apollo¡¯s most recent motion pictures has been of major assistance, but it will still take time before we can reach the needed levels of media saturation to strongly shape public views in just America and Europe, let alone other countries.

    ¡°The management of information agencies and social media is still being established, but certain trends have been successfully . . . encouraged.  If projections prove accurate then we should have reached at least twenty percent of our needed goals within the next two months.  After that, we shall need to scale back our influence to avoid exposure, but all targets should be reached within two years, barring unanticipated complications.

    ¡°Lastly, a number of novels and independently produced comics that have been sponsored by us are due to be released in both paper and electronic format over the next few weeks.  Steps have already been taken to ensure they will receive strong exposure and good critical acclaim.  A number of influencers have been subtly coopted to further the resonance of their themes.  With any luck they will tilt public opinion a few more degrees in the direction we wish.¡±

    ¡°Are there any further avenues of influence that can be exploited?¡± Another new voice asked.

    ¡°No.  Should we move beyond a certain point of saturation too soon then the manipulation of information and media trends shall become too obvious, leading to a sharp decrease in effectiveness.  A slower approach that incrementally increases its presence in the public mind is the best method.¡±

    Nobody made any further comment, all of those present were aware of the importance of that project.

    In the wake of the Black Sun, with the emergence of the supernatural and the revelation that humanity was no longer at the top of the food chain, the threat of anarchy and fear tearing civilization apart had been all too real.  By shaping the narrative of events, by influencing how the public saw the demigods and deities, a hastily assembled alliance of movers and shakers had been able to avoid disaster, but it was an ongoing process.

    What they were now trying to do was to shape the way people thought of those with supernatural power.  Even more than the gods, they were aiming to shape the public perception of the demigods, and with it how newly Awakening demigods would view themselves.  They knew they had little influence over the actions of the likes of gods or angels, but they hoped to at least sway how people chose to use the powers they might gain.  It was an ongoing process, one still in its infancy, but they hoped it would yield future results.

    ¡°What about the other projects?  We were expecting an update on the viability of Project Gemini, what is there to report?¡±

    A light Russian accent tinged that voice, but there was no mistaking the iron will behind the words.  The speaker was not one to be crossed.

    ¡°I am sorry to say that Project Gemini has been ruled as a dead end,¡± The voice that answered had no recognizable accent.  It was a voice that did not sound native to the language, but which had no trace of its mother tongue. ¡°At this time both technology and scientific knowledge are too limited to make the project viable.  Divine DNA is simply too incomprehensible at this time.

    ¡°More than that, attempts to understand it seem to have a deleterious effect upon the minds of the mortals that try.  Careful attention was paid to the psychological well-being of the researchers assigned to the project.  They were not pushed too hard, nor were they placed under undue stress.  They were merely meant to perform a preliminary analysis, an evaluation of potential future development.

    ¡°However, it was noted that otherwise rational personnel grew increasingly obsessive over the samples they were permitted to test.  This erratic behaviour seemed to grow in proportion to not only their amount of exposure but also the level of effort they put in.  Those more dedicated are the most affected.  By the time the project was deemed unviable, there had been three different psychotic breakdowns.¡±

    ¡°This is not completely unexpected,¡± This time it was a voice so neutral that neither gender nor nation could be guessed from it. ¡°In both Greek and Abrahamic mythology there is mention of mortals being unable to gaze upon the true form of a divinity without being destroyed or driven mad.  Studying their DNA must have a similar effect, given that it is an attempt to see their essence and learn from it.¡±

    ¡°Another limitation then.¡± A South American voice stated. ¡°What of the other projects?  Have any of them yielded positive results?¡±

    ¡°Project Midas has shown some promise.¡± This time it was an older voice that spoke, however, the slight tremor in the words did not detract from the weight those words carried. ¡°The samples of conjured and transmuted gold that were analysed have shown subtle but distinct markers, a means by which it can be differentiated from natural gold.¡±

    ¡°How difficult is it to find these markers?¡± This time it was a woman that asked, her tone eager but controlled.

    ¡°With the correct technology, it is surprisingly easy,¡± The more elderly voice answered. ¡°As things stand the apparatus needed is somewhat bulky, but I have been assured that miniaturization is relatively easy.  A model should be ready within a month for mass manufacture and distribution, should we choose to make it public.¡±

    ¡°What sort of price are we talking about?  Will it be affordable for the general consumer?¡±

    ¡°I am told that the final version should be on a par with the average office computer.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The woman sounded satisfied. ¡°Such a price will make them available to most reputable buyers of gold.  Less legal locations will still purchase the created gold, but with such devices, we should be able to keep the value of gold from depreciating too far.¡±

    ¡°There is the concern of geokinetics,¡± Another voice offered. ¡°Much of the planet''s gold exists within the mantle or core, inaccessible to us but not so to one with the correct power.  It would be entirely possible for them to acquire more gold than has ever been mined in the course of human history if they so choose.¡±

    ¡°There is little that can be done about that, which we aren¡¯t already doing.¡± The Elderly voice replied. ¡°Keeping the created gold from flooding the market is a higher priority.   We are monitoring for any large influxes of true gold, but as of yet there have been none.¡±

    ¡°And any other projects?¡± Asked a new voice, this time with a British Oxford accent.

    There was a moment of silence, and then the Russian voice spoke once more.

    ¡°There has been some progress on project Golden Bullet, but only incremental.  The new alloys that were tested showed some increase in their ability to harm supernaturals, but only against random monsters found in the wild.  My men were able to arrange for a suitable patsy to use the modified ammunition in an attempt to kill a deity making semiregular appearances in the city of Yakutsk.  The bullets were not effective, though they did cause more pain than regular ammunition.  The shooter did not survive the attempt.¡±

    It was a grim reminder of just what the coalition was up against.  The simple fact was that at the current point in time, humanity didn¡¯t have the weaponry to seriously stand up to the gods.  Even the nuclear option was of minimal use, maybe able to destroy the bodies of the weaker deities, but still unable to take them permanently off the board, thus not worth the price of use.  They could simply create new avatars and return after sufficient time had passed, while the burnt and irradiated land left behind would linger for decades, not to mention the potentially massive death toll.

    ¡°Are there any further project matters that require immediate attention?¡± The North American speaker asked.  When only silence met his question he continued. ¡°Then I believe we should move on to the next matter, recruitment.¡±

    There was another pause as he waited for all present to gather their thoughts for this new topic.

    ¡°We shall begin with potential agents. Ones that can be employed without full knowledge of our existence.  I would like to submit this individual for evaluation.  Ernest Brickson, a former army sniper with a gambling problem.  His record is quite good, aside from his vice, and suborning him into our service should not be much more difficult than acquiring his debt.  I am sending his file to all of you now.¡±

    The rest of the meeting ticked away for many hours before the order of business was completed.

 Epilogue: Voices and Secrets: Part Two

    The True Believer

    He watched as the screen faded to black in front of him and the speakers fell silent.  In response to the end of the session, the lights in his room lit up, illuminating an office that was almost startling in its utter normality.

    He had never liked the trappings of wealth, not even as he grew richer and more successful.  Large elaborate desks, chairs like thrones, luxurious carpets, none of them had ever sat well with him.  When circumstances had forced him to use them in the past he¡¯d felt as though he was trying to work in the lobby of some fancy hotel, and any minute an usher would try to politely but firmly ask him to leave.

    A knock came at his door, pulling him out of his thoughts as he looked up.

    ¡°Sir?  I noticed that your meeting has ended, are you ready to go over the reports?¡±

    With a sigh, he sat up in his chair and tried to put on the face that was expected of him, of the man that had built himself up from a data entry clerk into the owner of a multibillion-dollar corporation.

    ¡°Okay Evans, what have you got?¡±

    He watched as the young man that was his aide brought in a small pile of documents and left the office..  Maybe a tablet would have been easier, but the older man liked having something he could hold and sort, even if he knew it was an outdated method.

    He tried to focus on the task in front of him, but his mind kept on returning to the meeting.  Without conscious thought on his part, his hands clenched into fists, a small tremor running through them as his thoughts turned to the . . . freaks!

    Intellectually he was disgusted with himself for thinking of them so.  He liked to think he was a good man, someone that had not allowed himself to be coloured by such prejudices as racism, sexism or social standing.  He had always treated everyone he met equally, and he had always tried to measure his employees on their own merits, rather than stereotypes or preconceived notions.

    But the supernaturals, be they gods, angels, demons or demigods, all of them made his skin crawl.  The idea that there were these . . .these things out there that didn¡¯t conform to the world of reason and sanity that he had grown up with.  They had power, inexplicable, impossible power.  Power that made them a threat.

    That was what it came down to, he supposed.  Even more than his aversion to their existence.  Even more than the way they broke the laws human science thought immutable.  They were a threat, pure and simple.  Gods, their spawn, the other beings that swarmed around them, all of them were . . . were invading predators, creatures that had usurped humanities position at the apex of the world¡¯s ecosystem.

    That was why he was a part of the coalition of powerful individuals that had come to be in the wake of the Black Sun, to ensure mankind didn¡¯t become some sort of side note.  This was their world, even the gods acknowledged this, calling this the mortal realm.  Humanity would not be weak; they would not be pawns.  They would gain power of their own, enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with these arrogant creatures that demanded worship and obedience.  Maybe even surpassing them one day.

    Sighing he reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder that detailed the project he was personally working on.  It was hardly revolutionary, simply an advanced piece of software that could be used to keep track of certain trends on the internet concerning demons.  The thing that made it special was that it was able to ignore most of the security precautions meant to ensure privacy for casual users.

    Certainly, such software was illegal, but as long as it let them keep some idiots from selling their souls and giving more hellspawn access to Earth then he wouldn¡¯t feel even a twinge of guilt.  Compared to what some of his other colleges were putting together it was just small potatoes, but it was one brick in a growing wall.

    He liked that image, each of them working on their own brick, fitting them together, making something that grew with time and their efforts.  The end result would be a battlement, something to shelter mankind from the depredations that threatened them, perhaps even something from which they could strike back.

    He shook his head at the grandiose nature of his thoughts, slipping the file back into the drawer and locking it behind careful security measures.  When had he become so poetic?  It did not matter, there was work to be done.  The coalition would only succeed if every member put forth their full effort, after all.

    He had faith they would.  The threat they faced left no other option.  Victory and freedom, or failure followed by slavery or serfdom, those were the only paths available.  That was a guarantee of loyalty, of full support.

    That was why they were all dedicated to the cause.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Betrayer

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe those idiots still believe I am dedicated to their cause.¡±

    The figure leaned back in their chair, the sound of machinery fading away as the computer they¡¯d been using had its power cut.  As the light of the screen faded, darkness took the room, the obscuring murk settling upon the reclining figure like some sort of familiar cloak.  Nothing could be seen of them in the gloom.  Not their features, not their figure, nothing.

    Even so, the obscured form had no trouble in reaching into a small cupboard and pulling out ink-black robes that they quickly donned.  The darkness was no hindrance to them, every move devoid of stumble or uncertainty.  Perhaps it was the result of long experience, or perhaps the darkness held no impact upon their sight, whatever the case the figure was soon clad in robes that hid their identity every bit as thoroughly as the darkness had.

    Then, only a few seconds after the last tie had been knotted into position, light flooded into the room as the door to the dark chamber was suddenly thrown open.  The robed figure gave a slight wince at the unexpectedly bright intrusion but turned to face the door.

    ¡°Acolyte, I have news!¡±

    The one who had opened the door was a distinctive figure, a well-muscled mage with scars prominently on display due to his shirtless state.  His unkempt black hair contrasted with his pale skin, and his face was devoid of apprehension, even as the robed figure turned on him.

    ¡°I told you not to disturb me!¡±

    The acolyte¡¯s words came out as an almost reptilian hiss.  It was a tone that would have intimidated even a hardened soldier, but the scarred mage remained unaffected.

    ¡°Your meeting had finished, and as I said, I have news.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, do not disturb me!¡±

    The acolyte turned and walked to the door, deliberately taking their time.  As they stepped past the scarred mage, they couldn¡¯t help but feel their thoughts drift back to the meeting they had just been part of.

    In truth, they found the ideals of the cabal they were a part of to be absurd.  Mortals manipulating gods?  Ridiculous!  Certainly, there were examples in various mythologies of heroes or villains tricking or confounding a deity, but though it worked in the short term, in the long term it rarely turned out well for them.  The luckiest had been stripped of their wealth and sent to wander the wilderness, the worst . . . well, wheels of fire and hordes of hungry ghosts had been involved.

    The robed figure had no intention of making such a mistake.  Their mortal identity was powerful and well connected.  They had been one of the earlier members of the circle to be brought in.  Of course, they had informed their patron of it immediately, and he had ordered them to remain undercover, seeing the use of an agent in such a position.

    Beneath their robes, the acolyte felt their lips curl into a twist of disgust.  It was so idiotic, mortals standing against the divine.  Those others . . . they had some notion that technology could close the gap, that somehow they could disrupt the power of likes of gods and angels and bring them down to the level where such things as guns and bullets could harm them.

    Lunacy!

    As a student of magic, the acolyte knew how . . . na?ve such a thought was.  Gods, demons, angels, fairies, elementals, they were all so much more than mortals.  Those others in the gathering, they thought of the divine in terms of their science, as mutants, humans that had evolved differently.  They spoke of tapping into higher dimensions, advanced mitochondria and Nth dimensional spatial folding, psychic powers unleashed and collective unconsciousness empowerment.  All of it was just a frantic attempt to rationalise and categorise.

    Fear, that was what it came down to, the robed figure knew it with confidence.  In a way, it was almost amusing.  Some of the richest, most powerful and most well-connected people on the planet had come together, and it was all driven by fear.  They talked about safeguarding humanity, but the acolyte knew what they meant.  They wanted to safeguard themselves.

    And now they were sinking vast fortunes into anything they thought might help them.  New technology, new research, anything that might let them be more than sheep to be slaughtered.  Within the acolyte¡¯s hood, their sneer became an amused smile at the thought.  So much wealth, so much effort and all of it being wasted.  Technology?  In the face of true power, it was all but worthless.  How could tools that functioned by using the laws of nature possibly be of any use against those that could rewrite those laws when they chose?

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    China had proven that well enough.  Stupidity and desperation had led those in power to try to strike down the returned gods with their greatest weapon.  An atomic bomb, the nightmare of the modern world, unleashed against their own lands in an attempt to hold onto power.  The ultimate act of cruelty and recklessness, and it had amounted to nothing in the face of one able to turn deadly plutonium into worthless lead with nothing but a gesture and a flick of will.

    Still, not all their schemes were futile, and there was some value to being a member.  Their efforts to track and influence demigods, for instance, that was of value.  Knowledge of their attempts to collect and stockpile weapons and items of magic, that was also worthwhile.  It made the time and resources invested into being a member worth it.  And the information they had been able to forward to their patron had earned them considerable favour and rewards.

    Maybe more information could soon be gained, enough to make up for their failure in securing the demigod that had proven so powerful.

    ¡°Well, what did you need to tell me?¡±

    They asked the question in an effort to distract themselves from the welling of fear and anger that came with thoughts of their failure.

    ¡°My contact has replied.¡±

    Immediately thoughts of the meeting and past disappointments vanished from the acolyte¡¯s thoughts.

    ¡°She answered?  What was her response?¡±

    ¡°She is willing to meet.¡±

    Both hope and fear shot through them.  This was a gamble, going to one with such a dangerous reputation.  It could yield great rewards, but it could also lead to ruin.

    Just one more thing to worry about.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Double Agent

    She reached out and tapped a button on her desk, severing all electronic connections to the outside world and reasserting the isolation of her office.

    This small room had been specially prepared, with metal and special ceramics running through the wall to ensure her privacy from virtually any tech-based surveillance.  Measures ensured that even if bugs did get in somehow, they would not be able to transmit any information.  Without wiring or any sort of signal, it would have been impossible for her to send out a message either.  Perfect isolation.

    Unless you had unconventional methods of communication.

    The charm that she pulled out of her pocket was small, barely larger than the average key fob of a car, however, its appearance was distinctive, to say the least.  The core was a pitch-black stone carved into a vague hourglass shape, dried vines and copper wire wrapped around the narrow middle.  Strangely, modern computer chips were fitted into the wires, and visible flashes of energy ran from them through the copper and into the stone.

    Holding the charm closely to her lips the woman whispered into it.

    ¡°This is Asset Onyx, ready to share my latest findings.¡±

    There was a moment of silence, and then a scratchy and indistinct voice replied.

    ¡°Were you able to find out anything else about the target demigod?¡±

    A smile touched the woman¡¯s lips as she heard those words.  This was no simple magic communicator; such a method would have been entirely too unsecured for her needs.  The charm she held was unique in the world, a union that was only possible due to the expertise of the organization that held her true loyalty.  A familiar pride rose in her heart as she answered the question.

    ¡°Nothing we didn¡¯t know.  There was some speculation about their heritage, but nothing we weren¡¯t already aware of.¡±

    ¡°No notion as to their location?¡±

    ¡°None.  The area of the Awakening is devoid of clues.¡±

    A frown touched the woman¡¯s features as she had to answer in the negative.  She was well aware of how important the acquisition of powerful demigods was for her organization.  Being able to provide information on the one with such a potent and spectacular Awakening would have been well rewarded.

    ¡°Such a shame.  No matter, another new prospect has shown themselves in the Philippines, one of our agents has already been dispatched to secure them.¡±

    That was a surprise.  This new interest must have been powerful to make the loss of the unknown demigod less disappointing.  Her curiosity aroused, she asked the first question to come to mind.

    ¡°Who was sent?¡±

    ¡°Her.¡±

    No more identification was needed.  There was only one member of their organization that specialized in the capture of demigods to the point where that was all that was needed to identify her.  The irony was that the one they spoke of was herself a demigod, though no one knew who her divine parent was.  Still, even though she had only joined the organization recently her reputation was already approaching legend in their ranks.

    ¡°Ah, it should be of little difficulty then.¡±

    ¡°To be sure.¡±

    ¡°There is little else to report,¡± She stated, leaning back in her chair. ¡°The only point of interest is the increasing influence on public opinion via various media channels.  I shall send the council a full report later tonight, but I believe that it can be exploited to the benefit of our goals.¡±

    ¡°I shall be sure to include it in the next dispatch.¡±

    After that, the voice from the charm went silent.  There was no goodbye, no over and out, but then the woman had not been expecting anything of that nature.  Neither of them outranked each other, and the speaker was not one to stand on niceties.

    With a small sigh, the woman slipped the charm back into its hidden pocket and then rose from her chair.  As she made her way out of the room she could not help but think back to the meeting she¡¯d just been a part of.

    The group she had infiltrated did have the right idea, but they were too narrow in their thinking.  Mankind did need to grow stronger, but reliance on technology and recruitment of demigods was not enough.

    Her own organization, the one where her loyalties lay, had a more . . . concrete plan.  One that, in her opinion, was more likely to work.

    Humanity could not triumph against the gods, that was a simple fact.  Technology could not bridge the gap.  Magic had a better chance, but the tiny number of legendary magic users that eventually rose to be of comparable power to deities in the distant past had ended up being little better than gods themselves.  Greed, hubris, feuds and overreaching had torn apart nations before magic faded from the world.

    But technology and magic together . . . that was a game changer.

    Magitech was a new concept to the world, and it already existed to a degree.  Olympus Industries had offered some to the world already.  Many of their products were mass-produced magic items created by the forges of Hephaestus, things like lighters, torches, metal bottles that kept their contents warm or cold better than a thermos.  Trinkets really, hardly worth the exorbitant amounts they cost, just toys and novelties for those with some spare money.

    But what could be accomplished with something more ambitious?  What could a more powerful fusion of science and the supernatural do?  Enhanced weapons, computers, vehicles, medical tools, the list was as endless as the possibilities.

    There were powers out there besides the gods and their ilk, powers that the pantheons regarded as ¡®lesser¡¯, powers that had ambitions of their own.  In the wake of the Black Sun, certain alliances had been tentatively made, and certain long-term plans were put into place.

    So far, they had been staying in the shadows, but she looked forward to the day when they could step into the light.

    It would be glorious!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Realist

    An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he watched the screen go dark.

    Every one of these meetings was a drain on him, the strain of maintaining a completely neutral tone and posture taxing in the extreme.  Still, he had little choice in the matter, not given what he knew.  Closing his eyes he massaged his forehead as he leaned back in his chair, trying to ease the headache he could feel growing.

    This was a precarious balancing act he was attempting, but did he really have any other choice?

    He had been the one to create the group that had just gathered.  He¡¯d wanted to draw together all the power, all the influence, all the strings he could gather.  He¡¯d started with friends, people he knew he could trust, people that had managed to hold onto some of their soul and morals, despite having risen high in the worlds of business and politics.

    It had been a good idea at the start, but he¡¯d quickly realised they weren¡¯t powerful enough for what he wanted, so he¡¯d tried to recruit further a field.  His friends had followed suit . . . and some of them hadn¡¯t been as careful as he wished.  Those choices had made recruitments of their own, and before he¡¯d been able to muster his influence to curb the induction of new members the small circle of allies had swollen into an organization of large numbers and enormous power.

    Now the gathering had the power he¡¯d wanted, power enough to send entire nations spiralling into war and ruin, enough to change the course of history, enough to elevate a backwards mire into a world power.  So much power, so little trust, so little commitment, so little reliable control.  What should have been a bulwark for humanity was now a golden house of cards.

    He knew that the ranks of the circle were now riddled with spies, double agents and opportunists out for their own profit.  Yes, self-interest was making sure they all moved in the same general direction for now, but he had no illusions as to what the future held.

    Still, that was acceptable.  If there was a future at all then that would be a win as far as he was concerned.  For now, he just had to keep the house of cards from falling, keep playing the different factions against each other, and keep the spies ignorant of his awareness of them.  Honestly, he would have preferred to spend his time doing something less complicated and stressful, like working as a bomb defuser or being a shark dentist.

    The simple truth was that he had only been holding this gathering together for a few months, and it was already placing a huge drain on his time, resources and energy.  Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t have any better choices available to him.  For all the rot that had found its way into his nameless organization, he had managed to do what he wanted, keep the world from going up in flames.

    Now, there were gods invested in the status quo, gods that would want to keep the current social structures in place because they liked them.  The Greek pantheon was a good example, Apollo was a movie star, their king was now ruler over a growing corporation, and even their more scattered members were working with the mortal societies about them rather than crushing them.

    Europe, Australia, North and South America, all of them were reeling but still on their feet.  Africa was mostly a lost cause, save for the northern regions in the hands of various Egyptian deities.  Asia was a mixed bag, with China being taken over by gods, but Russia, India and Japan were faring much better.  To the average man on the street, it might look like the world was in the midst of massive upheaval, but that was due to their limited knowledge.

    He knew how close things had come to really crashing down, and sometimes he still woke from nightmares about it.  He knew how close certain buttons had come to being pushed, how close certain orders were to being given.  He knew how close the world had come to burning, and that was why he¡¯d do everything he could to keep it from happening.

    He knew that he couldn¡¯t hold things together forever, not even with the organization he¡¯d managed to build.  But if he could hold things together long enough . . . then there was hope.  If enough of the gods grew to like the modern world then they¡¯d be the ones to hold it together after a bit.  If enough demigods bought into the notion of being heroes, or just special and highly valued members of society, then they¡¯d also keep things from collapsing.

    Hell, maybe he¡¯d get lucky and there would be some unlucky bastard out there that he could hand the whole mess over to so he could wash his hands of it.  That thought drew a snort of laughter from him.

    Yeah, as if he could be that lucky

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Unlucky Bastard

    Lying on his bed Adam dreamed of magic and colours.

    Adam¡¯s adventures and trials will continue in Blood Divine Book 2: Broken Blood

 A New Part of the Three Firsts

    A New Part of the Three Firsts

    The first time I truly felt frightened by the world¡¯s new reality was just ten weeks after the Black Sun.

    Up to that point the return of the gods, the upheaval of the world, and all the supernatural, both good and bad, had also been mostly distant.  Even the mess with the angel and demon fighting near me had seemed like a one-off, an annomily that wasn¡¯t likely to repeat itself.  I lived in one of the safest countries in the world, what with King Arthur and all.

    It all started with Doug urgently calling me down to the lounge.

    ¡°Hey Adam, get down here!  Now!¡±

    If it¡¯d been Chris calling me I might have taken my time.  I¡¯d been reading on Divine Versus at the time and wasn¡¯t too keen to stop.  Still, this was Doug, he wouldn¡¯t call me like that unless it was something important.

    When I got to the lounge he didn¡¯t say anything, he just pointed at the TV.

    ¡°. . . shocking turn of events the blackout of the official media in China has finally ended, only for unbelievable news to be released.  The Chinese government has been overthrown.  The Celestial Court, the main pantheon of the Chinese Legends, has assumed control of the country.¡±

    I could only stare at the television, seeing the small headline play across the bottom of the screen as the news presenter spoke.

    ¡®China Conquered By Gods!¡¯

    I¡¯d known something was going on over there.  Even in a world where the daily headlines were things like ¡®Apollo Becomes A Movie Star¡¯, ¡®Rainforest Resurges To Reclaim Lost Land¡¯ or ¡®Angel Sighted Fighting Demon in the Skies Of Rome¡¯, a nation as large as China going silent had drawn attention.  It had been one of the largest media blackouts in history, and speculation had run rampant.  I had followed it as much as the next person, but the whole thing had seemed so far away.  Not something I needed to concern myself with too much.

    I suppose that some part of me just expected things to go back to normal.  That¡¯d happened here in the UK, Arthur had arrived and made things safe.  Sure, there¡¯d been some disruptions, but nothing too major as far as I was concerned.  The same happened in the USA.  They¡¯d adapted, got some gods on their side to act as a deterrent to those that might act out.  Sure, they¡¯d had to allow Olympus to set up a corporation and establish a monopoly in all but name on magitech, but even that seemed to be working out for them.  I was expecting the same for China, for things to blow over and settled down into the status quo more or less the same as it had been before.  China had been this vaguely hostile country that wasn¡¯t crazy enough to kick off a war.

    Now though . . .

    I watched as the news brought on some expert to talk about what was happening, but I didn¡¯t hear it as Doug muted the sound before turning to me.

    ¡°This could be bad, Adam,¡± He said, his voice oddly dead. ¡°Very, very bad.¡±

    I think that his tone rattled me almost as much as the news had.  Doug wasn¡¯t one of those guys that could never get serious, but he preferred to laugh at the world more than not.  He always had a joke or story to lighten the mood, so seeing him like this only fed into the void I could feel growing in my stomach.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?¡± He asked. ¡°Gods have actually taken over a superpower.  They haven¡¯t just integrated or climbed the ladder, I mean they¡¯ve flat-out conquered the whole thing!  Do you know what that¡¯s going to do to the world?¡±

    Sure, I could think of a few ways it was going to screw things up.  People were going to be scared, businesses were going to be scared.  Hell, entire nations would be scared by this, wondering if they¡¯d be the next ones facing conquest by some ambitious deity.

    ¡°Hey, we¡¯ve got the King here,¡± I offered.  ¡°America¡¯s got their bounty hunters and some demigods, everywhere is coming up with some trump cards they can use to keep things from going totally off the rails.  China . . . I don¡¯t know what happened there, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll happen here, okay?¡±

    The look he gave me was almost pitying, and I felt my stomach start to sink.  Doug had always been more of a political animal than me since I was rather lazy when it came to politics.  He was always the one to explain things to me, and often saw things that I¡¯d missed.  I was guessing that he¡¯d spotted something I was sure I wouldn¡¯t like.

    ¡°Adam, there¡¯ve already been places taken over by gods.  Egypt and most of northeastern Africa belong to some of the Egyptian pantheon in all but name.  There¡¯s Skadi up in Russia, though she¡¯s not getting too much attention because the areas she¡¯s claimed are ones that no one really cares about.  Then there¡¯re all the places in Brazil where the rainforest has come back.  Chunks of Canada, lots of the Australian interior, islands in the Mediterranean, there¡¯re so many places where gods, demigods or some kind of Legend are taking over. You know why this is different?¡±

    I shook my head, surprised to hear of so many places where gods had just set up their own kingdoms.  I knew that large chunks of Africa were in massive flux, dictatorships or banana republics being brought down and replaced by gods or ambitious demigods.  Hearing it was happening elsewhere though, came as a real surprise, though maybe it shouldn¡¯t have.

    ¡°This time it¡¯s a major nation, one of the big ones,¡± Doug explained. ¡°They¡¯re not someplace out in the sticks or someplace no one cares about.  This is a place with mass manufacturing capability, a real military, and a massive population.  I mean, do you know how many people actually live in China?¡±

    I shook my head, knowing it was a lot, but not sure of the exact figure.

    ¡°If you took the entire population of the USA and Europe combined they¡¯d still be beating us by more than three hundred million.  And that¡¯s what¡¯s got me worried.¡±  Doug explained.

    ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡±

    ¡°Look, you know that gods get power from worship, right?¡± At my nod, he continued. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve just had a pantheon take over one of the largest and most populated nations in the world.  How long do you think it¡¯ll be before they have all those people worshipping them?  And how much power do you think they¡¯ll get from them?

    ¡°And then there¡¯s the other side of it, the mortal side,¡± He ploughed on, waving his arms as he got into it. ¡°It¡¯s not just worshippers that they¡¯re going to get, it''s everything.  Soldiers, spies, satellites, research facilities . . .¡±

    He paused and levelled a stare at me.

    ¡°Nukes.¡±

    Okay, that was enough to bring me up short.  Honestly, the thought of gods with nuclear weapons didn¡¯t really cross my mind.  Compared to gods being able to call down lightning or make trees get up and fight for them modern weapons seemed unnecessary.  Nukes, though, were on a completely different level.

    ¡°You really think they¡¯d use them?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No,¡± His reply started to ease my tension, only for his next words to ratchet it up. ¡°I think someone else will use nukes on them, then they¡¯ll retaliate.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Look, a large and powerful pantheon has taken over a large and powerful nation,¡± Doug said, trying to explain his reasoning. ¡°And on top of that, this isn¡¯t some splintered or chaotic pantheon, this is the Jade Court.  In Chinese myths, they¡¯re always depicted as being ordered and structured.  Hell, one of the literal translations of their name is ¡®the Celestial Bureaucracy¡¯.  Sure, they had their chaotic elements, like the Monkey King, rivalries and stuff like that, but for the most part, they were all loyal to their head honcho.

    ¡°That all means that they can probably actually make conquering a nation work for them.  And that¡¯s going to net them massive benefits.  Loads of worshipers, international recognition, massive resources, the works.  What¡¯s got me worried is that other gods are going to see that, see all those benefits and then get greedy or scared.¡±

    Doug paused for a moment, his eyes flicking from the muted tv to me, to the longue window, then back to me.

    ¡°Look, gods are nothing if not proud, and demons are flat out evil, even angels can be . . . overenthusiastic.  What do you think they¡¯ll do if they see one pantheon getting so much power?  Do you think they¡¯ll accept being inferior?  No, my money¡¯s on them wondering if they can do the same thing.  If they can conquer a nation and get so much power.  What¡¯s got me really worried is what¡¯ll happen after a few of them try and find out it¡¯s not as easy as they think.

    ¡°Adam, you know what people are like.  If some god tried to take over France, Germany or even the US do you think it would go well for them?¡±

    ¡°No way.¡± I didn¡¯t even have to give it much thought. ¡°They¡¯d be looking at insurrection and rebellion all over the place.  Loads of passive resistance too, lack of cooperation, everything anyone can get away with.  It¡¯d be a nightmare.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Doug agreed. ¡°The Jade Court . . .  I think they¡¯re not going to have too hard a time of it in China.  It¡¯s their native country, it¡¯s a nation used to . . . forceful governments, and like I said, they¡¯re a pantheon used to governance and rule.  Other places though, any gods trying the same there are going to find it a mess.  So what I¡¯m thinking is . . . what¡¯d a god do if they find they can¡¯t keep a major country? Not some minor place in the junge, but a major first world country? What would a proud and powerful being like that do when they find they can¡¯t win?¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    He paused again, and the look he gave me left me feeling unbareably naive.

    ¡°Gods don¡¯t like to lose, not to other gods, and even less to mortals.  If a god that¡¯s conquered a country finds they can¡¯t hold it . . . it¡¯ll be like those assholes that flip a gameboard over because they¡¯re losing, only these poor losers will be using nukes and missiles while they¡¯ve still got control of them.

    ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll blow up the country that they can¡¯t hold.  Going for the whole ¡®if I can''t have it no one can¡¯ thing.  Or, and this is the one that¡¯s got me scared, they¡¯ll launch on China, maybe out of spite, or maybe it¡¯ll be tactical, trying to weaken the Jade Court.  Either way, there¡¯s a good chance that could kick off a retaliatory nuke strike, and before you know it we¡¯re looking at a good-old nuclear war.¡±

    That was it!  That was the moment when genuine fear hit me. As someone growing up in the modern world, I was well aware of the dangers of a nuclear war.  There had been enough films, tv shows and books about it, stuff ranging from the realistic to the absurd.  Still, it was enough that I knew the basics.  How massive the death toll would be, how poisoned the land would end up, how a nuclear winter would screw the whole world over.

    Oh God, it might really happen, a doomsday not of horsemen and demons, but of mankind¡¯s own creation, set off by uncaring and spiteful gods.

    Oh God!

    Oh God, this was the world I was living in!

    ¡°Hey, Adam, are you okay?¡±

    Then the moment was over as Doug¡¯s question snapped me out of it, the wild panic that just wanted to dig a hole and bury myself away from the world.

    ¡°Yeah . . .  Sorry, it just kinda hit me, you know?¡±

    ¡°Hey, being scared is the sane response,¡± Doug assured me. ¡°I mean, this is all just crazy, gods taking over countries, us having to worry about nuclear war.  It . . . it all belongs in a movie, right?¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± I felt my mood lightening as we started to joke around. ¡°A film with all these gods fighting and messing around?  The special effects budget would have to be massive!  Do you think it would be any good, or just get swamped in trying to be too big?¡±

    Doug smiled back, settling into a familiar friendly banter between us.

    ¡°I¡¯d give it a go at least.  Just as long as they didn¡¯t make the hero a Greek god, that¡¯s just too overdone.¡±

    ¡°So, who¡¯d you have?¡±

    ¡°Obviously the King.  Make it about his fight with Balor and you¡¯ve got an instant hit¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure,¡± I replied, smiling as the earlier tension faded. ¡°The videos and fan mades have done that to death on the internet, wouldn¡¯t something more original be better?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Like what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, how about a Hindu got working with a Shinto one?¡± I suggested.

    ¡°Both are Asian,¡± Doug commented. ¡°Maybe a native American spirit?  It¡¯d be original.¡±

    ¡°The seats would be packed!¡± I declared with exaggerated grandness, getting a chuckle in response.

    It was a release, but even if my earlier tension was broken I wasn¡¯t completely fine.

    ¡°So . . . what do you think comes next?¡±  I asked.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure,¡± Doug admitted. ¡°We¡¯re safer than most nations, thanks to the King, but I don¡¯t know if even he could protect the whole country if a real war kicks off.  He could probably take out some of them, maybe even lots if he deploys all the Knight of the Round Table, but the UK is a big place, I don¡¯t think he could cover it all.  We¡¯d probably do better than most major nations, but we¡¯d still be hit.¡±

    He paused, then gestured to the window, making me look out at our street, nice, quiet, normal as always.  I couldn¡¯t help but imagine how it would look in the wake of a nuclear explosion.  Burnt grass and trees, smashed walls, collapsed roofs, blackened and melted pavement.

    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll start building public shelters, like during the blitz.  Places people can duck into to ride out a bombardment if they have to.  I don¡¯t know.  We¡¯re just going to have to keep a watch on things and see how this whole mess develops.  If we¡¯re lucky maybe I¡¯ll be wrong.  There¡¯re a lot of gods that like the world the way it is, maybe they¡¯ll manage to keep things from falling apart.¡±

    It was an optimistic view, and it was one that I really hoped would turn out true.

    Still, it didn¡¯t change the fact that I had felt the foundations of my calm and peaceful life creak.  I now understood just how fragile it all was.

    I paid much more attention to the news after that.

    The truth of what happened in China came out over the next week, both officially and through several reputable reporters doing their own digging.   It was an ironic story, in that the largest nation in the world that had been conquered by the returned deities had been conquered by the gods least eager to take over.

    When the Black Sun occurred the immortals of old China had not rushed to return as many others had.  Instead, they took a calm and orderly approach, intending to send scouts to confirm the best paths, and then using agents to prepare the mortals for the return of the entire pantheon.

    The original plan had been for them to retake their positions as the deities of China with only minimal interference with the lives of mortals.  The Celestial Court had no desire for mass chaos or bloody revolution.  They wished for acknowledgement and respect, for certain old traditions to be revived and honoured, and for their words and deeds to be of relevance once more.  They did not demand the submission of the government; they did not expect the nation to fall to their knees in supplication.

    Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, things did not go according to plan.

    The Jade Emperor had elected to use a gentle touch for his first contact with the mortals and had chosen to send his daughter.  Zhin¨¹ was a goddess familiar with mortals, having loved and been faithful to one in a tale that had lasted to the modern era as ¡®The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl¡¯.  It had been thought that her fame, her familiarity with mortals, and her beauty would smooth the way for her, and make it easier to establish contact and communication with the modern government.

    At first, things went well enough.  Zhin¨¹ made her appearance in a small town only a week after the Black Sun, proved her power and developed credibility.  Messages were sent and official attention was drawn.  Matters had been proceeding as planned and the Weaver goddess had expressed her hope that soon her father¡¯s plan could begin in earnest.

    There was a lot of confusion about what happened next.  Records had been deleted, accusations laid about, cover-ups hastily thrown about in an attempt to save face, the works.  It was unknown if it was an official order from the upper echelons of the government, or if it was just some lower officer being foolish and ambitious.  Maybe it was due to a simple miscommunication, a garbling of orders at just the wrong time.  Whatever the case, it happened.

    A small but well-armed force of military police arrived to take Zhin¨¹ into custody.  The tone they took with her had been too aggressive, too hostile, enough so that the immortal elected to resist them.

    The Weaver goddess was not a warrior deity, but even so she was more than a match for mortals lacking any magic, regardless of their weapons.  Unfortunately, her resistance led to common citizens getting caught in the crossfire.  Seeing many wounded and dying Zhin¨¹ had called to her fellow deities for aid, and seeing an opportunity to aid, and gain goodwill with her Imperial father, a number answered.  Several minor deities of healing joined her saving many lives and social media went crazy over it, the images of soldiers hurting people and the gods saving them spreading like wildfire.

    Having seen what the Weaver goddess could do, and then seeing more like her appear, there was panic through the chain of command and a full military attack on Zhin¨¹ and her allies was ordered.  This assault was made with tanks and attilery, but it didn¡¯t do any better, modern technology being no match for divine power.

    From there, things devolved from one mess to the next.  Feeling threatened the military and the government continued to escalate the situation, trying to establish their own strength and power.  Maybe there was a plan, some thought of proving themselves so they could negotiate from a position of strength, but if so it was a no-go from the start.  Each time they escalated the courts of the Jade Emperor matched and defeated them, sending in more powerful gods and immortals, leaving the government constantly on the back foot.

    In the face of such power, and under pressure as their efforts failed, the government turned inwards in an increasely paranoid frenzy.  Unable to accept their losses scapegoats were sacrificed and excuses where thrown around in the halls of power.  Those suggesting peace and dialogue were branded as traitors or disloyal.  Fanatics and warmongers were seen as patriots and heroes, who in turn used violence and suspicion to silence any that spoke against them.  Rationality and moderation seemed to melt away as greater and greater extremes were allowed in the name of ¡®defending the republic¡¯.

    The back and forth lasted for a tense two weeks, the rest of the world locked out of the loop, as the Chinese government managed to censor and control all information.  The Celestial Court took more and more territories, moving to protect them as an increasingly frayed and fractured military employed more and more destructive measures.  It all came to a head when an extremist faction in the government chose to deploy nuclear weapons against a town where several deities had gathered.

    The effort failed, the missile was rendered inert before it could detonate, its enriched uranium transmuted into lead by divine arts.  However, it proved to be the final straw.  The Celestial Court hadn¡¯t wanted to take over China.  They hadn¡¯t wanted to replace the current government.  What they wanted was an orderly rule, a stable land joined to their divine nation.  They would have been content to attach to the existing structure with only a few minor changes.  Instead, the current governance had descended into chaos, and the nation was on the verge of civil war.

    Unwilling to give a government that would burn and poison it¡¯s own land further chances, the Jade Emperor gave the orders, and the world saw its first example of the true dominance of divine power.

    It had been barely more than a month since the Black Sun, and back then the world was still finding its feet regarding the Legends.  The supernatural had been confirmed to exist, and King Arthur had returned to save Britain, but all of us were still getting used to it.  At the time they still seemed to be almost like superheroes and monsters, strange and terrible, but not upending the status quo despite all their spectacle.

    The conquest of China disabused the world of such notions as it showed just what a pantheon was capable of when they chose to stop holding back and acted in concert.

    The Celestial Court was composed of hundreds, even thousands, of deities, but those were just the elite, the officers.  The Celestial Bureaucracy was made up of tens of thousands of officials, scribes and eunuchs.  But the armies of the Jade Emperor numbered in the millions, and every one of them was a minor immortal in their own right, every one of them superhumanly strong, swift, and skilled.

    There was no war since war would have been messy and chaotic.  The sheer speed and efficiency with which one of the greatest nations in the world was subdued and taken over left the world stunned.  In a space of time that should have been impossible the Celestial Court had removed the current government, replaced it, and resumed the rule of China, the country running as smoothly as freshly spun silk.

    The real win in the whole mess was that despite ruling with absolute power the Jade Emperor was surprisingly open about everything.  Under his rule the citizens were almost universally happy, corruption vastly reduced and efficiency increased, so he had nothing to hide.  In fact, he welcomed scrutiny, both official and otherwise, into his rule, proud to demonstrate the competence of the Celestial Beuracracy.

    Even though it never went away the tension of the situation in China slowly faded.  Even better, though there were a few disturbances and fights involving legends around the world, none of them seemed too eager to try their hands at major nation-conquering.  Just like the tension, the looming spectre of nuclear war also shrank away.

    As far as I was concerned things had shaken out about as well as they could have, but I still watched the news more carefully than I had before, always worried that the next bit of news could upend my life.  That was my life now.

 Book 2 - Broken Blood: Prologue: Dark Appetites

    Prologue: Dark Appetites

    The smell was enticing as it was repelling.

    The squirrel was a simple animal.  When it was hungry it ate, and it had a natural preference for certain foods.  When all resources were abundant there were things that it preferred over others, such as nuts and seeds.  Later, in the harsher times of winter, it was forced to be less choosy, consuming eggs, insects, and even the meat of things like young birds and small rodents.  Right now, in the near height of summer, there was an abundance of sustenance for it to choose from, so there should be no temptation to consume the source of the scent that had drawn it.

    And yet . . .

    The scent had attracted the squirrel¡¯s attention when it had been up in the tree nearby, the smell rising into the air and tickling its nose had filled its head with a strange mixture of yearning and revulsion.  Drawn by both hunger and a wild sort of curiosity, the small grey animal had climbed down until it saw the source of the strange fragrance, a long strip of meat lying against a tree.

    Had a human seen it they would have noticed details that the squirrel couldn¡¯t understand, such as how long and thick the strip was, suggesting it came from a large creature.  Additionally, the end of the strip was caught upon a low branch poking out from one of the trees with the rest of the meat running from there.  It only required a little deductive reasoning to guess what had happened, namely that some of the flesh had been caught on the branch, and then the rest had been pulled off as whatever creature it came from had moved away.

    The strip was large easily as wide and thick as a store-bought beefsteak, but nearly three feet in length, its colour a dark red with veins of black running through it, all of which would have set off alarm bells in the head of any human that saw it.  To lose such a large chunk of meat was not something a healthy creature would do, regardless of size, and the appearance of the leftover flesh was anything but healthy, it looked diseased, even unnatural.

    A human would have been afraid or disgusted.  They might have sought help, might have tried to isolate the meat and transport it away to determine what it was and where it came from.  Or, if they wanted more urgent action, they might have made a fire and burnt it right there and then.

    The squirrel, though, was not a human.  The scent that had lured it in was pushing upon the old and primal buttons in its head, playing to its primal drives.  Some part of it knew there was something wrong, something unnatural, about the source of the smell, but hunger and interest overrode such instincts, burying them beneath older ones, those that said to never turn down an easy meal.

    However, as it drew closer the tree-climbing animal found that it had not been the first to be drawn in.  A young wild boar was chewing upon the bottom part of the meat, biting off mouthfuls and swallowing them almost without chewing.  In short order, almost half the strip was gone, but despite the large meal it had consumed the boar seemed to want more.  As the squirrel watched, the beast reared up as best as it could and seized the remaining length in its mouth.  It tore the strip from where it had been caught, pulling almost the whole thing down with it.  The wild hog took another couple of bites out of its prize, then trotted off into the woods, the remains of the strip still clutched in its mouth as it dragged it along.

    Through all of this the squirrel waited, its claws gripping the wood beneath it, its eyes fixed upon the boar, biding its time until the larger animal moved on.  It didn¡¯t know why, but the closer it drew to the meat the more it desired it.  When it saw the boar taking the remains of the strip with it, the small animal had almost attacked it in an attempt to steal some, regardless of the absurdity of such an action.  However, it had held back when it spotted something.

    There, where the length of flesh had initially caught on the branch remained a smaller strip, still caught on the wood.  For the boar, it would have been a pitiful amount, barely a mouthful, but to a squirrel, it was a bounty about the size of its own whole torso.  There was no need to endanger itself when all it had to do was wait.  So, it did.  When the hog was gone the small grey tree climber skittered down to the branch and pulled the meat from where it had been caught.

    For just a brief moment, as it held the black and red flesh in its forelimbs, the squirrel hesitated, instincts at war as one set screamed at it that the food it held was tainted, poisoned, diseased, and unnatural, while another set clamoured at it with the hunger it suddenly felt, how delectable the meat smelt, and how good it would feel to consume it.  Old instincts, bred into the bones over thousands of years, tried to pull it one way and then another, but in the end, hunger won.  If this proved wrong, if it killed the squirrel, then that just meant it was too stupid to live and it would die before passing such deficiencies to the next generation.  If it proved right, then it would live, and the next generation would benefit.  It was a brutal way, but nature was not a gentle kingdom, and the small animal was a creature that lived by those instincts of old.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    As soon as the squirrel took its first bite, though, something changed.  Hunger, an appetite that had nothing to do with simple bodily needs sprang into being in its eyes as it tore into the food it held, tearing off hunks and swallowing them nearly whole.  Had anyone been there to see the gorging that ensued they would have thought the squirrel to be starved, that could be the only understandable reason for the sheer speed and desperation with which it was consuming the meat.  Had they watched for longer they would have been horrified to see that the squirrel¡¯s belly was swelling and distending from the sheer mass that it was consuming.  Such a growth couldn¡¯t be healthy.  Indeed, the creature might be causing internal damage due to devouring more than its innards could hold, yet despite it all the squirrel kept eating.  Droplets of blood started to spill forth from the corners of its mouth, but it kept eating, cramming the food in until it had consumed the entire thing!

    The grossly engorged squirrel seemed to pause then, its eyes goggling out of its head as though being pushed by internal pressure, blood trickling from its mouth, nose, ears and eyes.  For a moment there was something that might have been called confusion on the face of a human, as though it had just realized what it had done, and couldn¡¯t understand why it had acted as it had.

    Then it tipped over and fell from the branch.

    Had things been different, the fall would have been largely inconsequential to the creature.  Squirrels might be  natural climbers, but it was almost inevitable that something would go wrong.  A loss of balance, a surprisingly fragile branch, a rain-slicked leaf, all sorts of hazards could send them falling to the ground.  So, the species had adapted to being able to survive falls.  Like cats, they were adept at landing on their feet, at spreading themselves out to lessen the impact or rolling to bleed off momentum.  Additionally, the perch it fell from was only a few feet in the air, low enough that it could have jumped down if it wished, so even if it fell it should not have been hurt.

    However, when this squirrel fell, it fell prone, no attempt to twist or land was made, it simply plummeted headfirst.  Then there was the way its body was engorged, swollen to the point of near absurdity.  Lastly was the fact that when it struck the ground it did not land upon soft leaves or damp earth, rather it fell upon cold unforgiving stone with enough force that small cracks could have been heard as its bones broke.

    For some time the small, broken form of the squirrel just lay there, body twitching, bloody foam bubbling up from a mouth that seemed to open and close from simple spastic motion rather than any sort of conscious desire.  It might have been trying to moan in pain, but if it was then those attempts at sound were choked by the bloody foam.  As more time passed even those few movements ceased, and the broken form simply went still upon the rock.

    Minutes and then hours ticked by, and the sun slowly moved across the sky, but as the celestial orb reached its zenith a sunbeam passed through the canopy of leaves to brighten the stone the small furry form rested on.  Almost as though the sunbeam had been some sort of signal the body suddenly twitched.  The first movement was a full-body jerk, but then individual limbs began to move.  Small cracks and pops were audible as broken bones were suddenly forced back into place.  The wide protruding eyes that had been staring out sightlessly at the world suddenly blinked, and in the instant that they were hidden behind their eyelids, something changed.  The small beady eyes no longer had the feral gleam of an animal.  Now there was something else there, something that wasn¡¯t intelligence but was close to it.  There was a hint of hunger, of predatory instincts that should not exist in such a creature, but which had suddenly taken root.

    The squirrel seemed to roll its neck, and again the sounds of broken bone mending and snapping back into place were loud enough to echo around the small hollow of trees.  Now fully mended the tree climber rolled over onto its feet and lay upon the rock, a prisoner of its distended belly, now so large that the small animal was unable to move easily.  The sight might have been comical, were it not so pitiful.

    Then more cracks and snaps could be heard coming from the squirrel, but this time it was not due to it healing.

    Limbs lengthened, teeth and claws extended and sharpened, fur grew longer and darker, muscles grew thicker upon its body as the distended belly seemed to deflate like a balloon that had the air let out of it.  The still undigested meat breaking down to fuel the ongoing changes.  Before long a new creature rose where the squirrel had been.  A creature that bore only a vague resemblance to the animal it had once been, but was now as different as a man was from a monkey.

    For a short time, it just stood there, its newly sharpened eyes surveying the woods around it, its newly elongated and pointed ears flicking about as it tracked sounds.  Then its head cocked to the side as an almost insectile-sounding chittering emerged from its throat.

    Then it was off, darting into the brush, its speed so great it was almost a blur.  For a moment there was silence, then there was a single short and sharp squeak as the changed creature found another being to serve as prey and sustenance to continue its change.

    It sounded like it might have been another squirrel.

 Chapter 1: New Life, New Problems: Part One

    Chapter 1: New Life, New Problems

    I came awake fighting.

    Around me, I could hear the sound of tearing cloth, and my vision was obscured by floating patches of whiteness, colours shifting and changing as sleep and bleariness distorted my sight. Only . . . I wasn¡¯t under attack, there weren¡¯t any colours trying to run rampant, and I was not in any immediate danger.

    For a moment I was confused, not recognising the room I was in, wondering where my old movie posters were.  Then the previous night came back to me, and my hand darted to the back of my neck, feeling at the spot where the parasite had emerged from.  Thankfully I found only smooth skin in place, not even a hint of a healing cut or scabbed wound.

    A sigh of relief escaped me as I slumped back, memories of the horrible feeling of infestation the night before running through my head.  Without really thinking about it I turned my attention inwards, noting the flow of energies within me, and feeling satisfaction as I found them free of taint or parasites.

    Behind and beside me I could still feel my wings tangled up in the remains of my sheets and the mattress.  I must have thrashed quite a lot before I woke up because the blade-like feathers tangled in the shredded remains of my bedsheet.

    Not surprising, with what happened last night, the fight, the violation and the fear, I had plenty of fuel for nightmares.  But, I also remembered winning, reaching my power, using it, tearing that parasitic monster out of me and burning it.  I could remember the colours, the colours that had power, that were more than simple shades and hues.  I could remember the beauty and the sheer rush of it.

    Again, without thinking about it, I reached . . . into?  Through?  Out of?  None of those seemed right.  I was extending my mind, and my will, but the direction was something that the English language had never needed to deal with.  The colours, my power, they existed both within and without me, both internal components and an external aura.  But even that was inaccurate, they were at once both and neither, contradictory yet in harmony.

    Honestly, it should have given me a migraine just trying to understand it, but it was the complete opposite.  Even if I couldn¡¯t put it into words it felt utterly natural to me, as correct and normal as me moving my hand and arm to scratch an itchy nose.  The new power was there, within the weird new channels and systems of mana and chi that were a part of my body.

    I reached out to this new part of me, this well of forces and colours beyond imagination.  I reached out to it . . . and I just knew!

    Power!

    It was power!  My power!  I knew it as clearly as I knew my own name.  This wasn¡¯t something that was being borrowed.  this wasn¡¯t something I was drawing from an external source.  This power was mine, and mine alone.  It came from me, it belonged to me, it was part of me.

    It had worked!  What Emma had risked so much to tell me, the trick to sparking my mana into magic, it had worked!  I could feel it, so different from before.  There was a vitality now that had been lacking.  After my sabotaged Awakening I hadn¡¯t really been able to feel it, the mana had just sort of sat there.  Now there was a sense of barely restrained movement, as though it was ready and waiting to roar away like a jet engine.  So much power!

    And . . . I had no idea how to use it.

    The power was there, the colours were there.  I had access to them, they were within reach, they responded to me, but I didn¡¯t know how to use that new access.  Before it had been like my power was the greatest car in the world, all curved lines, potent engine, fresh wheels, premium fuel.  The only problem was that I didn¡¯t have the keys to get it started, so it was just sitting there.  Now the keys were in the ignition, the motor was purring, the frame thrumming with barely contained power.  I was in the driver¡¯s seat, my hands on the wheel and my foot on the accelerator.

    As I sat there, I¡¯d only just realized I didn¡¯t know how to drive.  I didn¡¯t know how to steer, I didn¡¯t know how to read or use any of the controls or gears, and above all, I was terrified that if I tried to experiment with driving it then I¡¯d drive it straight into a tree.  Bye-bye lovely new car, bye-bye lovely new me.

    Of course, I could do the equivalent of stepping on the gas and trying to work it out as I went along, but that didn¡¯t strike me as a good idea.  Just drawing on these new connections and sources could work, but it could also go badly wrong.  I was excited, but I knew that messing with potentially destructive magic wasn¡¯t something I should be doing in my room, certainly not while still lying on my bed.  That could come later, once I had some help from Joan and Hadriel, maybe even Emma.  With any luck, they¡¯d be able to teach me how to use my magic without accidentally frying myself.

    Of course, I couldn¡¯t do that if I just stayed in bed all day.

    Getting off the bed was a bit of a nuisance, my wings being tangled in the mattress and sheets, but I managed it in the end.  Once up, since I seemed to be getting a little more used to having wings, I decided I¡¯d try to have a shower.  The last decent clean I¡¯d had been at the hands of Joan while I was still out cold, and I was doing my best not to think about that in any great detail.

    |The bathroom that was attached to my room was pretty big.  Whoever it was that had remodelled the farmhouse had been generous enough to add a few touches of luxury.  The bathroom was one of those big open-tiled ones, one that took up a whole half of the bathroom.  This worked in my favour since it meant I could have my wings partly spread as I stood under the large showerhead.

    As I passed the large mirror fitted above the wash basin I caught a look at myself and paused to take the sight in.

    It had only been a couple of days since I¡¯d regained consciousness after my Awakening, and I was still getting used to my new looks.  This was the new me, Adam West 2.0, now with improved looks, additional body parts and feature-type magic, here to replace the obsolete old model.  That thought amused me, but it made me a bit uncomfortable too.

    I was changed.  I was a demigod now.  Physically I was almost completely changed, even if you didn¡¯t take my wings into account.  My weight, height, proportions, my features everything about me had been pushed to the limits of perfection while remaining me.

    Honestly, I was glad for the clear similarity that remained, that the change hadn¡¯t gone further and made me into a completely different person.  That would have been much harder to deal with than just being divinely photoshopped.

    The cold water of the shower didn¡¯t bother me as I stepped in, helping to clear my head as it ran over me.  There was one problem though. As it turned out, while I could take a shower easily enough my wings provided for more complications than just getting in my way.

    Water went everywhere, and I mean everywhere!

    The whole place was thoroughly soaked as my wings sent the cascade from the shower bouncing off in directions water had never gone before.  On top of that, it looked like there were still some reflexive actions of my new limbs that I hadn¡¯t learnt about yet, such as them fluffing out and fluttering largely on their own in response to the water.  It reminded me a bit of how birds would play in a bird bath.  By the time I was even halfway done, the rest of the bathroom looked like someone had taken an uncontrolled firehose to it.

    In the end, my shower took longer than it should have done, my wings soaking up lots of water as they fluffed out, drinking it in almost like a sponge.  As they got more soaked, they got heavier and made it even harder to keep my balance.

    The thing was that despite how cumbersome it was to have my drenched wings tugging at me, it still felt really good.  All that warm water having been absorbed by the dry feathers felt absurdly relaxing, as though I was lying in a huge warm hot tub and gently having muscles I never knew I had massaged.  I just stood there for a while, enjoying these new sensations.  Eventually, and reluctantly, I reached out and turned off the shower.

    My decision seemed to trigger some reflex though, because my wings did a sort of shivering flutter, and it was as though all the water that they had absorbed suddenly just lost any hold it might have had on them and just slid off.  In an instant and a large splash, my wings went from sodden-soaked to only slightly damp, and a strange feeling of euphoria and satisfaction ran through me, like the feeling of stretching and cracking a few stiff bones back into place, only multiplied ten times over.

    As I towelled myself dry, I wondered how I could enjoy showers like this more often in the future.

    I¡¯d need a bigger shower, one with multiple shower heads, enough room for me to spread and flap my wings, varying water pressures, lots of different temperatures, steam vents . . .

    . . . gold fixtures?

    Right, and just how much would that cost to run, let alone set up?

    I was just thinking about how much debt I¡¯d have to sink into to set up one stupidly luxury-class shower when it hit me.  I was now a demigod.  Sure, I still wasn¡¯t quite certain what my specialities or talents were, but almost any demigod could make some serious dough with some smarts and a bit of imagination.

    I was sure that I could come up with something to make money if I really needed to.

    And if worse came to worst, there was always working as an underwear model with my new looks.

    And what looks they were!  As entered my bedroom I couldn¡¯t help but step closer to the mirrors that served as my closet¡¯s doors, staring at my reflection.  The me that I saw in the mirror was practically my idealization, and I didn¡¯t feel too ashamed to admit that I really liked the change.  I¡¯d never considered myself ugly, but I¡¯d never thought of myself as anything too special either.  Now . . . now I looked like the kind of guy that could walk into a club and command the envy, adoration and lust of all that looked at him.  In other words, I was HOT!

    There was an odd contrast between my new darker skin and the whiteness of not only my new hair but also my wings.  It was striking, and it was something that was going to take some getting used to.  As for my skin . . . I looked as though I could have been on a yacht in the Mediterranean making all the supermodels feel inadequate.  At the same time, it was still MY skin, it was just darker.

    Ghaagghhh!  I couldn¡¯t even put it into words inside my own head!  It was so ridiculous it was almost worth a laugh.  Instead, I just took a little time to admire the new and flawless me in the reflection.

    That was something that I was going to have to be careful of.  Since the Black Sun everyone had been more into mythology and I was no exception.  I knew what happened to mortals or demigods who got too beautiful for their own good. Narcissus, Helen of Troy, Andromeda, Adonis, every one of them had been beautiful and some had been too proud of it, drawning the attention of the gods in one way or another.  Out of all of them only Andromeda got a happy ending, and that was only after she nearly got fed to a sea monster.  Hanging onto some humility was looking like something of a survival skill.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t help striking a pose, like a model in a magazine.  Yeah . . . I might have the looks, but the rest would need some work.

    I was just trying to flex my abs when I noticed something odd.

    My belly button was still the same pink that my skin had been my whole life.  All around it was the darker hue of my new skin tone, but inside my navel, and right up to the lip of the small hole, my skin was pale by comparison, standing out sharply.

    What was this?  Curious, I tilted my head to see if the inside of my ears was the same, then my nostrils, even my armpits.  All of them were darker, the change having reached seemingly every part of me.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t figure out why just that part of me was lighter.  Was it some sort of birthmark?  Was it some sort of rash?  Tentatively, I reached down to scratch at it.

    A gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled backwards, my wings reflexively spreading in readiness for an attack that wasn¡¯t coming.  For some reason, my legs felt weak, as though I¡¯d just been winded by a sudden and violent blow.

    It had felt . . . the closest I was able to think of it was to compare it to a sudden electrical shock.  The instant my fingernail had scratched at the inside of my navel I¡¯d felt as though a sudden surge of electricity had run through me, and most definitely not in a good way.  My muscles had gone slack, my vision blurred, and my whole stomach area felt as though I¡¯d been viciously kicked.

    ¡°What the hell?¡±

    Tentatively, I reached down and, with exaggerated care, I gently stroked the paler skin of my belly button.  It didn¡¯t hurt, but I could feel it, such a light touch and it still felt as though I was running the edge of a knife across it.  It was kind of like when you poke at a freshly healed wound, the newly grown skin is still tender, and it would be so easy to break it and set the wound to bleeding again.  It felt . . . vulnerable.

    A suspicion began to grow in my mind, but I needed more proof.  Reaching down I carefully scratched at the darker skin around my navel, it felt just as it normally would.  Moving in I let my nail scrape the edge of the pinker skin and felt that same tremor, as though it was a blade pressed against my flesh rather than just the edge of my fingernail.

    Experimentally I gave myself a slap across my belly, the action producing a dull noise as my hand hit my new muscles and flat stomach.  That hadn¡¯t hurt, again, there had been no jolt, no increased sensation.  But . . . was that because I hadn¡¯t actually hit the pale skin?  It was inside my navel, so my slap had hit the flesh about it rather than inside it.

    My suspicion was growing as I tentatively flicked at the pale skin in my belly button, the sort of gesture one would use to flick a speck of lint off your clothes.  It was a tiny action, one that everyone uses every day without really thinking about it.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    It felt as though someone had slugged me at full force in the belly!

    I folded over like a cheap card table, my knees pressing into my chest as I drew in gulps of air in an attempt to get myself under some sort of control.  To my sides my wings trembled, quivering with energy but unable to actually do anything with it.

    Slowly I managed to pull myself back together, but even so, I was still unsteady.  Also, as unpleasant as it had been it had confirmed a theory that I¡¯d been putting together.

    Hadriel had compared me to the likes of Achilles and Siegfried, heroes that had gained impenetrable skins that had made them almost invincible in battle, with emphasis on the ¡®almost¡¯ though.  Each of them had possessed a flaw, a spot where the protection hadn¡¯t taken root and thus left them vulnerable.  For Achilles it had been his famous heel, the spot where his mother had held him when she dipped him in the river of the Underworld, the one spot the water hadn¡¯t touched, the one spot where death could get in.  In the case of Siegfried, he had bathed in the blood of the dragon Fafnir, the beast¡¯s lifeblood making his skin every bit as impregnable as the scales of a dragon, save for a spot on his back where a single leaf got stuck and kept the blood from touching it.

    This . . . this soft spot, was it my Achilles Heel?

    I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, but even so, my imagination ran wild with dark possibilities.

    Joan, killing me by accident as she jabbed her blunted sword into my belly.  Hadriel slashing me across the navel thinking that I could recover from it with a little help from Joan¡¯s healing magic.  Hells, I could imagine myself accidentally running into the corner of a worktop, some of those in this farmstead house were at just the right height.  Would that be enough to kill me?

    I sat back up, leaning backwards and took another deep breath.  I couldn¡¯t let this overwhelm me.  Yes, I had a weak point.  I didn¡¯t yet know how it worked, but it was there.  It was a weakness, but it wasn¡¯t as though it was a huge target.  The inside of my navel wasn¡¯t an easy target, especially if I knew to defend it.

    Should I mention this to Joan and Hadriel?  It made sense to tell them, they were meant to protect me and fight side by side with me.  If I didn¡¯t let them know about something like this it could only lead to trouble.  Hell, they might end up killing me in training if they didn¡¯t know.

    So, why I was considering keeping this bit of information to myself? Simple security.  The more people knew about this weakness then the more likely it was that the secret would be exposed.  That was how Siegfried had been killed after all, despite his invulnerability.  He¡¯d told of his weakness, and the one he¡¯d told had later betrayed him.  I didn¡¯t think that either of my protectors would betray me, not willingly anyway, but it was a risk.

    The hints I¡¯d gotten from Joan and Hadriel had me thinking that the sorts of people I¡¯d be going up against in the future wouldn¡¯t be the sort to be squeamish about using torture.  And that wasn¡¯t even taking into account all the options the supernatural world brought into the equation.  Mind control, mind reading, divination, illusions, all sorts of ways to force, steal or trick the secret of my vulnerability out of them.

    On the other hand, telling nobody meant no support or suggestions on how I could best protect myself.  In the end, it came down to trust.  Well, trust and fear, if I was to be completely honest with myself.  That feeling when I¡¯d touched my pale skin, that sensation of near absolute vulnerability, I would do almost anything to keep an enemy from knowing about it.

    So . . . trust or secrecy, which was I going to choose to keep me safe?

    Maybe, if I had been able to get all my powers up and running as soon as I had Awoken it might have been a good idea to keep this weak spot a secret.  But standing alone was the privilege of the strong, and I was nowhere near that powerful.

    Alright, the decision was made.  Still, telling them worried me on another level.  Would they be disgusted?  I was meant to be this super-important demigod, yet every step I took down that path seemed to go wrong.  Would this be the last straw for them, a demigod that couldn¡¯t even use his power?  Would they just give up on me as too flawed, too weak?  In my head, I knew that I was letting my doubts run away with me, but that didn¡¯t really help.

    Taking a deep breath I fell back on my tried and true method for dealing with things when they got too much for me, namely; repress, repress, and repress some more.  Sure, it might not be the most enlightened or healthy way to deal with issues, but it had let me get through tough times before, so it had to be doing something right.

    So, I concentrated on making my way down the stairs with my wings tucked in as tightly as I could manage.  It threw my balance off a bit, but I was getting better at managing my new limbs.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Emma sat under a tree, a small weaving of grass, bones and her hair resting in her lap.  At the centre of the weaving were a trio of snow-white hairs, hairs that she¡¯d surreptitiously picked up from Adam¡¯s room when she¡¯d visited him the night before he sparked his magic.

    Naturally, as a demigod, Adam possessed a certain natural resistance to magic.  Sure, it wouldn¡¯t do much good if someone hit him with a fireball, but it did keep things like low-level curses and spells from latching onto him using weak reagents . . . like a few strands of hair.

    No, she had no ill intentions towards him.  Instead, she was trying to monitor his progress, a task made damnably difficult by the Hallowed Sanctuary.  Still, she had been able to gain something, the sympathetic link between him and the hairs that were once a part of him just being enough to let her spell slip through.  In this case, it¡¯s weakness was an asset, since such a small and harmless spell, one devoid of any sort of malicious intent, went unnoticed by the protections of the Sanctuary.

    Of course, since it was so weak it wasn¡¯t able to send her back too much information, but what little it had managed was enough for her purposes.

    Adam had done it!  His magic was fully awakened and he had even manifested a halo!  There had also been some confusing impressions of some sort of fight, but since the demigod had completed sparking his magic afterwards it must have been one he or his guardians won.  The fact that he¡¯d been attacked at all while under the Sanctuary¡¯s protection was troubling, but it seemed to have been dealt with.

    Under her hood, her lips curled into a smile, a genuinely happy smile.  This was a huge step in the direction she¡¯d been hoping for.  Adam seemed to be finding his pace now.  What she had been able to pick up of his new magic gave her the impression of breadth, of scale, a fact that made her heart sing.

    He wasn¡¯t some demigod with great power in just one narrow direction, she was sure of it!  His reach would be wide, just as she had hoped for.  Wide enough to-

    Her thoughts and her joy were cut off as she felt something snap at the back of her mind.  It wasn¡¯t an injury, instead, it was an awareness of a ward she¡¯d set up around the town, a simple and primitive detection spell as easy to miss as a line of spider¡¯s thread.  This ward was meant to alert her if any beings of power came too close to the Hallowed Sanctuary, or the village she was staying in.  Unfortunately, all it could do was make her aware, it couldn¡¯t tell her how many there were, how strong they were, or even what they were.  It was a simple alert, nothing more.

    Weak, that was what all her spells had to be.  Too weak to do anything useful, too weak to deter anyone, too weak to be noticed.  Too weak to give her away.

    With practised ease, she forced down the old frustration and instead concentrated on the matter at hand.  The place where the ward had broken wasn¡¯t too far from where she was.  It was at the edge of a field just outside the village, close enough that a normal person could have jogged there in fifteen minutes or so.  Emma was considerably faster than a normal person though, even if she had to be stealthy.

    It took her less than five minutes to get there, a veil of subtle spells that she¡¯d prepared in advance wrapped around her, obscuring her presence.  Internally she was reviewing all the resources available to her and trying to estimate just how much she could afford to cut loose.  If someone, or something, was here for Adam she couldn¡¯t afford to let them confirm the existence of the Hallowed Sanctuary.  Sure, it¡¯d protect him for as long as it could, but a powerful and determined enemy could set up an ambush, hiding or waiting outside it until it went down, then immediately attacking.  If nothing else, she had to know so she could let Adam know, if worst came to pass.

    The field she moved through was full of nothing but common grass, left to grow tall so it could be harvested for hay.  It provided good cover, and between it and her veiling spells, she was sure she was well concealed.  Nothing powerful enough to penetrate them had spotted her, she¡¯d have sensed them if they had.  So . . . did that mean she was dealing with small-fry here?

    Very carefully Emma stood up from her crouch until her head was just above the tall grass.  Her eyes darted around searching for any sign of the supernatural intruder, but seeing nothing.  Were they using stealth as well?  Maybe they were small, like a goblin or a sprite?  Or maybe . . .

    That was when she saw the insubstantial form wisping through the air.  In appearance, it was as though a snake and a man had been fused into an ill-made single being, and that being had been made out of almost black smoke.  Reptilian features graced an inhuman head, scales made of smoke outlines covered broad shoulders and long spindly arms that ended in clawed hands.  From the waist down it was a serpentine body, the end dissolving into a trail of smoke. The form swam through the air as a snake would upon water, though not very fast.

    Oh, and the whole thing was barely two feet long.

    Emma recognised it immediately.  How could she not?  The thing was a damned soul, one of the many wicked mortals that ended up in hell after they died.  This pitiful thing was more like part of a soul, a piece that was left over after some truly evil soul was burnt and broken beyond recognition.  Those pieces sometimes managed to absorb enough of hell¡¯s ambient energy to gain a separate existence of their own, though it was a weak and pitiful one, weaker than even the lowest imp.  Essentially they were ghosts bound to hell, souls trapped in an endless loop of bitterness and torture as the lowest of the low.  Here on earth, they were mostly harmless, lacking the power to do more than irritate and unnerve.

    That said, they could be useful in some ways.  Since they were so weak, and technically human souls, despite their mutated and mutilated state, they had an easier time surviving on the mortal plane.  Most demons didn¡¯t belong, and the world rejected them, it didn¡¯t stop them, but it was a constant difficulty, one that these damned souls didn¡¯t suffer.  Normally they were sent as scouts or hunters.  They might be pitifully weak, but they were surprisingly hard to harm and were stealthy in that few actually noticed them.  Emma had only spotted it because she was looking for something, otherwise, it might have slipped by her.

    Why was it here though?  Was it looking for Adam?  Or was it looking for . . . her?

    Instantly she knew that she could not let the spirit escape, the risk was simply too great!  Fortunately, she¡¯d had a lot of free time on her hands lately, and she¡¯d been using it to prepare as best she could.  The large glass jar she pulled out of her bag had once been used to store pickled herrings, but the symbols she¡¯d scratched into the glass with a cold iron needle meant it could serve as a new type of container.  She gripped the sides and power shot through her hands, more power than she¡¯d normally use, but she had to risk it.  The snake-like ghost jerked in place, sensing her power and frantically looking for her, but by then it was too late.

    The lid of the jar flew off, as though removed by invisible hands, and the smoke-like spirit was pulled into the jar, screeching all the way, a sound like tortured metal that only ended as the lid leapt back into place.  Emma felt a tiny stab of pain from her shoulder, as though someone had just stabbed her with a needle, but paid it no mind.  Her entire focus was on the creature she¡¯d just captured.

    For a few moments, the inside of the jar was a roiling mess, like a bottled tornado.  Then the smoke slowed and formed a face and hands pressing against the inside of the jar, black pit-like eyes staring out at her.  For a moment she and the ghost locked eyes, and then the spirit jerked back, its face lighting up with recognition.

    ¡°YOU!  You were here?  How?  Why?  Everyone thought you had fled into the abyss centuries ago!¡±

    Emma didn¡¯t answer, even though she was shocked by the question.  This tiny thing knew of her?  That made no sense, why would she be known to such a lowly servant of the deep pits?

    ¡°Is this why we were sent?  We were told of you and sent, but . . . nothing else.  What . . . why would they . . . ?¡±

    The creature was talking more to itself than it was to her, and Emma had no problem with that.  Even its mumbled thoughts were enough to give her some information to work with.

    ¡°What is this?!¡±

    The ghost¡¯s attention snapped back to her as its insubstantial claws scrabbled at the glass, trying and failing to scratch it as the wards she¡¯d inscribed protected the jar.  Hoping to get it speaking again she answered it¡¯s question.

    ¡°A soul jar, a tool used by witches to catch ghosts.  Only slight modifications were needed to adjust it to hold you.¡±

    The broken soul stilled again, then it looked back to her, its face now almost leering.

    ¡°You know, they have not forgotten about you, not even after all these centuries.  He still wants you back, and she still hates you.  Did you think that they¡¯d forget, just because you weren¡¯t there?  Did you think that being out of sight would let you slip from their minds?  Who do you take them for, mortals?¡±

    Emma gritted her teeth hard enough to make them ache, despite her immortal body.  They hadn¡¯t forgotten her, they were still looking for her.  Damn it all!  How could she have expected anything else?  She should have known better.  She should have known them better!

    ¡°Your palace still waits for you,¡± The ghost¡¯s voice broke into her thoughts, now sounding almost honeyed, despite it¡¯s grating tone. ¡°Your treasures are still there, the souls of the greedy are allowed to see them, the wealth they covet but can never have.  Mounds of gold, heaps of jewels, countless chests filled with silks and arts and statuettes to make the wealthiest mortal weep with inadequacy.  All of them are there, and any who touch them burn in hell¡¯s fires, as is upheld by the old covenant.  They wait for you, the treasures, the weapons, the armours, all wait for your return, shiny and pristine forever.¡±

    Was . . . was this tiny thing trying to tempt her?  It would have been absurd if it wasn¡¯t also so dangerous.  At it¡¯s words she could feel that old part of her trying to stir, the part of her that she¡¯d brutally buried and ignored for so many mortal lifetimes.

    ¡°No one knows why you ran, but do you think it matters?  You can return, reclaim your throne, your crown, your position.  But what do you think will happen if they find you first?  Will you be dragged back, rather than returning on your own?  What will you do Emana-¡±

    ¡°Is that why you were here?  Looking for me?¡±

    She snapped the question, cutting the spirit off, not wanting to hear that name.  It worked, but even so, she still cursed herself!  She should have been more subtle, more leading.  But its words had unsettled her, stirring up old memories, old fears, old hungers.  It was throwing her off, and she couldn¡¯t afford to make mistakes.

    ¡°We were sent looking, but not for you, not really.  We were shown your image, but all who leave hell are, along with the others who left.  We seek them, others too, all that we are told to, we seek, we seek and seek and seek and seek.  Seek seek seek seek seekseekseekseek . . .¡±

    Emma watched as the twisted soul¡¯s words devolved into gibberish, its face slackening into what would be called insanity on a mortal.  The spells on the jar had worked, forcing the ghost to speak the truth, but it seemed that the pressure had also caused its rationality to fray far faster.  Creatures like it, pieces of a soul forced to become their own whole, were intrinsically flawed, incomplete.  The result was a mind that could operate, but which broke far too easily.  That was why this thing and its kind were regarded as so expendable, even at their best they were damaged goods.

    She¡¯d get no more out of it, though what she had was worrying enough.  She¡¯d have to chew over it later, think about how it affected her.  First though . . .

    She drove her mind into the jar, and from there into the ghost.  This wasn¡¯t something she could have done normally, not restrained as she was, but the soul jar acted as a bridge, and her will was strong enough to do the rest.  It took a lot of will to wait for centuries, to not use the power she could wield, to accept hardship and humiliation, a lot of will.  The broken soul''s mind was already fractured, and she drove her will in with little difficulty.  Ruthlessly she attacked it¡¯s memories, seizing those of it drawing near here, of meeting her, of their conversation.  Those memories were torn out, ripped to pieces and then shredded even further.  Nothing remained of them but incoherent nonsense, nothing that could possibly be reconstructed.

    In the wake of her attack, a hole was left in the ghost¡¯s mind, a hole she filled with false recollections of boredom and tedium.  It was a crude fix and one that would cause the spirit¡¯s mind to crumble all the faster, but she didn¡¯t care.  It would go from this place having found nothing, having learnt nothing, and would report nothing.  Were it not for the fact that it¡¯s disappearance might be missed she would have simply destroyed it outright, or kept it locked in the soul jar for the next few years.  This was the best solution, one that would hopefully divert any further investigation into this area.

    Undoing the lid she let the ghost spill out.  For a moment it dissolved into smoke, and then it slowly drew itself back together.  Its face was devoid of malice or fear now.  Instead, it was slack, like that of a drug addict or someone on sedatives.  It looked at her without comprehension, then turned and started to drift away from the village and the hidden Hallowed Sanctuary.

    Emma watched it go certain that it would not lead any back to Adam, but still unsettled by what it had told her.

    So long, and they still hated her, wanted her, hadn¡¯t forgotten her.  She should have expected it, but to have it so brutally confirmed . . .  Damn it!  She¡¯d spent so much time running and hiding from her past, chasing the promise that had been made to her, holding onto that fragile hope, and her past hadn¡¯t let her go!

    She clenched her fists in frustration, then winced as a spike of pain shot from her shoulder.  Her flesh was hidden under her battered clothes and her old hoodie, but she was afraid she knew what she¡¯d find when she checked it later.  Irritated skin, and maybe snow-white scales.

    Damn it!

 Chapter 1: New Life, New Problems: Part Two

    ¡°Good morning!¡±

    I made the greeting as cheerfully as I could as I came down the stairs.

    ¡°Good morning, Adam,¡± Joan greeted me in return from where she sat at the table. ¡°Yesterday offered no shortage of trials.  How are you faring?¡±

    There was concern on her face, but no fear or worry.  No doubt she¡¯d already used her own healing to check on me before she hauled my unconscious form up to my bed, so she was aware there weren¡¯t any traces of the parasitic creature left in me.  So, she must have been concerned on the mental side of things, how I was holding up after something like that.

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I assured her, smiling a grin I only partway felt. ¡°Last night . . . it wasn¡¯t all good, but we got through it, I sparked my magic, and that . . . thing is dead.¡±

    I paused for a moment, then asked a question that had been gnawing at me.

    ¡°Do you know what that thing was, or how it got into me?¡±

    ¡°It was some form of hell-spawned creature,¡± Hadriel explained, drawing my attention to her as she hovered a few inches off the ground next to one of the room¡¯s slitted windows. ¡°The energies of hell are potent, enough so that sometimes fiends and monsters can be birthed simply from those energies latching onto other powers.  Corruption, usurpation, consumption, there are many paths they can take.  Though their attempt to use you for fodder failed.

    ¡°As for where the creature inside you came from . . . I would wager that the beasts that attacked your Awakening carried some taint upon them, a taint that survived their destruction and latched onto you in a moment of vulnerability.  Due to the complications of your Awakening, your power was left raw, unfinished, fertile ground for it to grow and develop.  When you began to finish the transition of your raw mana and life force into a more useable form it was driven to act, lest it lose its feeding ground and be consumed in your flaring magic.¡±

    ¡°Was . . . was that a demon?¡±

    It hadn¡¯t been long since the Black Sun, and humanity had been forced to witness serval atrocities committed by some of the returned legends.  Gods could be cruel to those who got on their bad sides, and monsters could be savage in sating their hunger.  However, demons had done much to cement their reputation for blind and malicious evil with the spectacles of suffering and despair they¡¯d left in their wake.  The thought that one of those things had been literally under my skin . . . I barely managed to hold back a surge of nausa.

    ¡°No!¡± The crimson-winged angel stated the word emphatically. ¡°There are demons that are capable of infestation and possession, but they are nowhere near as weak as the spawn you burnt.  Thankfully they are rare, so you should not encounter one any time soon.  That infestation within you compared to a demon as a leech or an infection would to a mortal.  Dangerous in its own way, but ultimately lesser, limited, lower.¡±

    Okay, that was quite a bit of info to digest in one go.  I stared at the angel, trying to get my thoughts in order as I went over her words.

    ¡°Regardless,¡± Hadriel continued. ¡°The more important issue at hand is your condition.  You say you are well, but are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, what?¡±

    I was still thinking about demons, so her question caught me off guard.  They weren¡¯t sure?

    ¡°I . . . yeah.  Yeah, I¡¯m okay,¡± I assured them. ¡°No traces of that thing inside me.  I¡¯ve already looked.¡±

    ¡°That . . . isn¡¯t what honoured Hadriel meant, Adam.¡± Joan stood from where she¡¯d been sitting, gesturing to me as she did so. ¡°Though it is good to hear that you have investigated yourself, myself and honoured Hadriel did the same as soon as you fell unconscious.  You are correct that there is no hint of taint left within you, and your body seems to be completely recovered.  It is your mental and spiritual well-being we are concerned with.

    ¡°What happened to you was . . . monstrous, to have your body and power torn from your control so cruelly.  Adam, there is no shame in having been affected by such an ordeal.¡±

    Her kindness was welcome, but my feeling were complicated.

    ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t know,¡± I tried to explain. ¡°I am good . . . but I don¡¯t think I should be.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like . . . last night was awful, it should have left me shaken, you know.  I won, we won, but what that thing did, trying to take everything, my power, my body, my life, that¡¯s not something you just walk away from.  That¡¯s the sort of thing that should have left me a mess until I can work through it, y¡¯know?

    ¡°But it¡¯s like I woke up this morning and I¡¯m fine.  Yeah, it was bad.  But it¡¯s done, I won.  That thing tried to kill me, but I ripped it out and fried it.  That¡¯s it, game over, the credits are rolling, move on to the next challenge by pressing start!¡±

    I was slightly babbling towards the end, but even as I tried to get across what I was feeling I could feel worry growing inside me.  Saying that the trial was over and that I could move on was a rational way of looking at it, but emotions weren¡¯t rational.  I should still be afraid, still be thinking about the horrible moment when I lost control of my body when I was completely helpless.  But I wasn¡¯t, and that wasn¡¯t normal.

    ¡°Interesting, an unexpected boon.¡±

    My thoughts were interrupted as Hadriel drifted closer, her head tilting to the side and her coppery hair falling in a cascade over her shoulder in a way that would have been very distracting at any other time.  But right then, I was more focused on what she was saying.

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®boon¡¯?¡±

    ¡°It is a common thing amongst immortals to be possessed of greater . . . mental and emotional fortitude than mortals.¡± She explained, with that superiority of hers that, while devoid of malice, set my teeth ever so slightly on edge. ¡°Immortals must endure the passage of time that would drive a mortal mad, and they must also experience trials and tragedies in that time that are on scope with their greater existences.  The ability to endure such without suffering scars to one¡¯s soul is essential.¡±

    ¡°What, you mean immortals don¡¯t feel emotions so much?¡±  I asked with genuine curiosity.

    ¡°No,¡± Hadriel replied. ¡°Immortals, gods, angels, even demons, all feel emotions as intensely as mortals, if not more so.  Demons have limited emotions in that they rarely feel anything other than rage, hatred, or one of the sins, but that is not relevant.

    ¡°Beings of power feel grief, fear, anguish, all the woes that any mortal would, but those emotions possess less of a grasp upon them.  When Zeus first faced Typhon, he was defeated and had the sinews torn from his limbs.  Later they were returned by his family and the Greek king returned to his fight immediately.  A mortal could not do so, even if they could survive such mutilation to their flesh and recover.  The pain, the helplessness, it would leave them scarred, terrified of their tormentor.

    ¡°Such is also the case with angels,¡± She continued, gesturing to her own red wings. ¡°An angel captured by the forces of hell can face many fates, but should they endure their torments without Falling and be rescued then their tortures will have no hold upon them.  They shall remember them, they shall feel righteous anger and indignation, but they shall not be broken by them.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it is simplest to think of it in these terms,¡± Joan suggested, taking a step forward. ¡°Immortals are far harder to scar emotionally or mentally.  They can be hurt, but if they survive then they can quickly recover and move on.¡±

    ¡°And you think I¡¯ve got that?¡±

    ¡°It would appear most likely,¡± The French saint agreed. ¡°You have many bloodlines in you, and we know that your power shall be great.  It would not be unusual for you to also gain several of the attendant powers that are enjoyed by many immortals.¡±

    And there it was, the perfect opening to let them know what I knew they needed to learn.  For a moment I considered waiting, letting the chance pass and saying that I would grab the next, but I knew how easy it was to keep putting it off.  Better to bite the bullet and get it done.

    ¡°Listen . . . there¡¯s something I¡¯ve got to tell you two.¡±

    I firmed my resolve.  Now that I had magic, I had to learn how to use it, and I was going to need their help to learn how.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got my magic, I can feel it, and I can reach it, but I still don¡¯t know how to use it.  I . . . I was hoping that I¡¯d just know how to use it after I got my magic going, but it¡¯s like with flying, I know I can do it, but I don¡¯t know how.¡±

    My two divine allies exchanged a quick look, then turned back to me.

    ¡°Tiens la foi, Adam,¡± Joan reassured me. ¡°While we had hoped that completing your Awakening would give you the intuitive skill over your powers other demigods enjoy, we suspected that might not be the case.¡±

    ¡°Your lack of intuitive understanding is a setback,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°But it is not unsurpassable.  Mortal mages learn to control magic through will and discipline, you can do likewise.  Additionally, though you cannot yet use it, your power is intact and strong.  Such power is not meant to lie dormant, it shall ache to be used.  You shall have an easier time mastering it than some young mage would while fumbling with their first spells.¡±

    She paused, looking at me with a stern expression.

    ¡°Do not assume that you shall have an easy time of it though.  Power, true power, is never easily won, no matter the blood that flows in your veins.  Always remember, no matter the origin, no matter the breed, all power comes with a price.  Time and effort are perhaps the best wages you can pay.  Other ¡®easier¡¯ routes normally have deeper costs hidden within them.¡±

    Okay, I felt a tight ball in my stomach uncoil as I listened to them.  It wasn¡¯t all good news, but at least they weren¡¯t throwing me to the curb as a worthless failure, and that had to mean something.

    Joan smiled that warm smile of hers and gestured towards the kitchen.

    ¡°I think that is enough of weighty matters for now.  Let us move on to something less concerning, such as ¡®What would you like to have for breakfast today¡¯?¡±

    I tried to smile back, then realized I still hadn¡¯t told them about my weak spot.  I¡¯d already been on one rollercoaster of stress by telling them about my magic and I didn¡¯t want to face another one right away.  Also, I hadn¡¯t sat down and eaten since my Awakening.  Maybe getting some food in me would help prep me for telling them.

    I was brought out of my thoughts as Joan passed me and stepped into the kitchen.  The resurrected saint was wearing her casual clothes again, and, as before, I was struck by the strangeness of her rather domestic appearance in the kitchen.  Hadriel aside, Joan was the strongest person I knew.  I¡¯d seen it when I watched her cutting through those demons that attacked the ritual like a blender.  Seeing her in the kitchen, and in an apron as well, after that . . . I couldn¡¯t help but see it as a bit weird.  Not bad weird, just . . . strange.

    For Joan, no breakfast was complete without freshly made bread, and the smell of it wafted across to me like some sort of spell.  It also reminded me that it had been something like three days since I¡¯d eaten anything, more if you counted the time I¡¯d spent in the cocoon.  Sure, I hadn¡¯t been hungry or thirsty, and I hadn¡¯t suffered any sort of dizziness or weakness, but going so long without either food or drink was strange.

    ¡°Any chance of eggs and bacon?¡±

    ¡°Ah, le petit d¨¦jeuner anglais typique.¡±

    Even though Joan slipped into French again for her reply there was little disguising the wry amusement in her tone, and I found myself smiling in response.  Sure, I didn¡¯t know the exact words that she¡¯d used, but the sentiment was easy enough to guess.

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m a guy with simple tastes.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, you shall not find me disputing that assessment.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±

    ¡°If you could set the table that would be helpful.  I should not take too long to have your food ready, eggs and pig are easily prepared with these modern appliances.¡±

    With a grin, I started to put, mats, cutlery and glasses on the table.  As I did so something occurred to me.

    ¡°Should I set a place for Hadriel?¡±

    Joan paused, then shook her head.

    ¡°There is no need, though honoured Hadriel shall be joining us at the table she has chosen to forgo any food or drink.  Both are unneeded to sustain her body, and she does not wish to indulge in consumption simply for its own sake.¡±

    Oh, right.  Angels could end up Falling if they gave into sins and eating just because you wanted to rather than because you had to was pretty much the definition of gluttony.  I could understand why she wouldn¡¯t want to do that.  It was just a bit uncomfortable to have someone sitting at your table while you ate, and them not having anything.

    I shook my head.  Maybe I was just being a bit inflexible.  Hadriel was an angel, not a mortal, I had to be prepared to make allowances for differences, just as I would if I were to meet someone from a different culture.

    ¡°Hey, Joan.  Why do you eat?  I mean, your body¡¯s a sort of a heavenly construct, right?  That¡¯s why you can turn into an angel.  Do you even have to eat?¡±

    The resurrected soul glanced over at me for a second, then focused back on her two frying pans.

    ¡°This body of mine is not some magical construct, it is true flesh and blood, even though it was created by the Lord in order to house my soul.  It still possesses many of the needs and weaknesses of mortal flesh, even though many of them have been greatly reduced.  Eating is a necessity, though my body is far more efficient than it was in my mortal life.¡±

    I nodded, and wondered.  Was I like that now?  It made some sense, so far it looked like one of the things I¡¯d gotten from my Awakening was a general amp-up in just about everything to do with my body. Stronger, faster, tougher, etcetera, so being able to go longer without food was probably in there too, maybe if I waited a week or so I¡¯d start getting hungry.

    Having finished setting the table I felt at a bit of a loose end, so I turned back to Joan.

    ¡°So . . . what¡¯s the plan for today?¡±

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel and I have decided that we shall use today to gain a better understanding of just what you are capable of so far,¡± the French saint explained, as she spooned the fried eggs onto a plate. ¡°Of course, we shall not be able to learn everything that you have gained, but it shall give us an idea of how we can begin your training.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±  I turned to see that Hadriel had entered the farmstead.  Her wings were folded in close, but her metal halo still hung behind her, the light reflecting off its beautifully wrought surface. ¡°I have some notion as to how we can begin to assess what divine gifts you have received with the Awakening of your blood, and then there is also your halo to consider.  The fact that it only came into existence after you succeeded in igniting your magic suggests that they might be connected.  That would in turn suggest that you also possess some aptitude for wider forms of magic, in addition to the obvious.¡±

    I took note of what she was saying, but most of my attention was on Joan scooping the bacon out of the pan and onto my plate.  The trio of eggs, bacon and fresh bread looked delicious, even if it might be a bit heavy on calories, and I was honestly surprised that my stomach didn¡¯t rumble at the simple sight of them.

    As I sat down I realized that the chair wasn¡¯t really suitable for me anymore, not with my wings.  After some experimentation I found that the closest I could get to comfortable was to turn the chair around so that I was straddling it, the back pressed against my bare chest.  Not great, but it¡¯d do.

    When she sat down I noticed that due to her smaller wing size, Hadriel had an easier time sitting in a chair.  Even if it was as though she was sitting down with a backpack on, a feathery one, I supposed it was more like having a cushion strapped to her back.  It pushed her forward a bit, but there was still enough room for her to be decently seated, if not completely comfortable.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    As Joan sat down and reached for her knife and fork I gave her my most appreciative smile.

    ¡°Thanks, Joan.  Now . . . I guess it would be Grace, and then ¡®bon appetit¡¯.¡±

    That got a small chuckle from her as I said a quick grace and finally cut into my food.

    I felt my smile fall from my face as I chewed.

    And chewed again.

    Then I swallowed.

    For a moment I stared down at my plate, then I carefully cut away another piece of bacon, though this time I made sure to take it from a different rasher.  Bringing it to my mouth I bit down on it, chewed, and then swallowed, my eyes narrowing further as I glared down at my plate.  I tried another mouthful of egg, only for my frown to deepen, and a touch of panic to start to grow inside me.  Then I grabbed the salt and liberally sprinkled it on my bacon.  Joan made a small noise of surprise at that.  Bacon was salty enough, after all.

    I didn¡¯t care though, instead, I grabbed my bread roll and took a violent bite out of it as well.

    Then I jumped from my chair and dashed for the kitchen.  I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite.  The next moment I threw it aside and grabbed an orange, which I bit into without even bothering about the peel.  As I reached for a banana my hand was seized as Joan came up beside me, her other hand pressing on my shoulder to turn me around to face her.  There was a sound of breaking crockery as my wings, which I had spread slightly in my panic, swept some cups and plates off the tops, but I didn¡¯t care as I looked at her.

    ¡°Adam!  ADAM!  What is wrong?!¡±

    ¡°I . . . I can¡¯t taste any of the food . . .  I can¡¯t taste any of it.¡±

    When I said it out loud it sounded like such an insignificant thing, but the breakfast, the bread, the fruit, they had just tasted of . . . nothing.  I could feel them in my mouth, feel their texture and consistency, but there had been no flavour of any sort, they had simply all tasteless.

    It had freaked me out for a moment, making me think that I¡¯d somehow lost my sense of taste.  But then I realized I could still taste the metal of the fork in my mouth each time I tried.  I¡¯d thought that maybe it was just the food on my plate, so I¡¯d tried the bread, and when that was the same I¡¯d gone to try the fruit, but none of it had tasted of anything!

    ¡°The food?¡± Joan sounded almost as confused as I felt. ¡°Was something wrong with it?  Have our supplies been tampered with?  They tasted normal to me.¡±

    ¡°No!  No, it was nothing like that!¡± I assured her. ¡°It¡¯s like the food had no taste at all, but I could . . .¡±

    Trailing off I turned and grabbed one of the wooden spatulas that rested in a large jar next to the stove.  Experimentally I brought it to my mouth and ran my tongue over it.  Yes, there was the familiar taste of wood, but that was it, no leftover hints of herbs or spices that stayed on a well-used kitchen tool, regardless of how many times you washed it.

    ¡°I . . . I can taste the wood,¡± I said, almost to myself.  ¡°But just the wood.  Why . . . why can¡¯t I taste the-¡±

    I cut myself off as I reached over and grabbed a jar of herbs.  Taking the top off I licked the lid, tasting the flavour of plastic, but again there was no hint of the herbs themselves.  mechanically I set down the jar and turned to put the lid and the spatula I¡¯d licked into the sink so they could be washed later.  To my side, I could see Joan watching me with visible concern, and Hadriel watching with a much more neutral expression on her face.

    ¡°I can¡¯t taste food,¡± I said slowly. ¡°I can taste the other things, the wood, the metal, the plastic, but the food has no taste.¡±

    My eyes widened as another thought occurred to me and I grabbed a glass of the draining board.  Again, my protectors watched me, waiting to see what I was doing as I filled the glass with water and then took a swig.

    The water . . . didn¡¯t really have a taste, it was just water.  It didn¡¯t taste stale, but it didn¡¯t taste like vitamin-rich volcanic spring water either, it was just water.  Nodding my head, I turned to the fridge and pulled out the jug of orange juice I knew would be there.  I liked oranges as much as the next guy, but the French saint had a passion for the juice that was impressive.  When we¡¯d come here I had been quite surprised at the large mound of oranges to be found in one of the cupboards, which decreased in size daily at a rather impressive rate.  Pouring a small amount into the glass I quickly slugged it back.

    Water!  It might as well have been water for all it tasted.  I could feel the thickness, feel the small chunky bits still in the juice, but there was no flavour to it at all.

    Pulling a bottle off the wine rack on the other side of the kitchen I poured out a little and then swigged it back, and again, nothing!  The wine I tried was a red one, the label saying it was a Malbec, but again, it might as well have been the most boring glass of water in the world.

    ¡°Drink . . . drink doesn¡¯t have any taste either?¡±

    ¡°Adam, are you saying that you cannot taste either food or drink?¡±

    At Joan¡¯s question, I looked up and nodded.  My mind was only half on her though, the rest of it was in a strange whirl of thoughts and questions.  Was this a temporary thing?  Was this why I wasn¡¯t hungry?  Why was this happening?  And amidst it all I kept on thinking about all the foods that were now meaningless, foods that I loved, like barbecued steaks, chilli spaghetti, honey glazed roast turkey, lamb stew with extra potatoes, extra spicy gumbo!  Would I never be able to taste any of them ever again?

    ¡°I believe that I know what the cause of your predicament is.¡±

    The statement came from the red-winged angel, her face as calm as ever as she watched me from the other side of the main kitchen top.  She was watching me and evaluating how this new development fitted into everything.  As usual, she was hard to read.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    For my part, I asked the question hopefully, eager to get information on it.

    ¡°It is not that you have lost your sense of taste, rather it is that the sin of gluttony has been sealed from you.¡±

    ¡°But . . . Adam is a mortal,¡± Joan protested, her face visibly unsure. ¡°How could he be sealed to a sin, by his very nature as a mortal he has Choice in such matters!¡±

    ¡°I do not believe it to be a deliberate sealing, rather it is something that he has accidentally inherited from his ancestor due to the complications that befell his Awakening.¡±

    ¡°Wait!  What?!¡± I broke in. ¡°What do you mean ¡®sealed¡¯?  Sin of gluttony?  What?!¡±

    The two heavenly agents paused for a moment, exchanging a look that I guessed involved them deciding if I was ¡®cleared¡¯ to know about what they were talking about.  There was a quick nod between them as they both agreed and then Hadriel began to explain.

    ¡°You are aware that it is possible for angels to . . . fall from Grace if they become too contaminated with sins, correct?¡±  I nodded and she continued. ¡°Though I do not doubt that Lady Joan explained the matter in detail I do not believe she was able to convey just how terrifying a concept the notion of Falling is for one of us.  Every angel is created whole, complete in and of themselves, without any uncertainties or unanswered questions.  We know why we exist, we are immediately loyal to our Father and Creator, and we know our place in His plans and His love.  The thought of losing that, of falling so far in His eyes that we are cast from His presence and service . . . I do not fear death, I do not fear injury, I do not fear capture and torture at the hands of the vilest of the demons of hell, but that . . . to become other than what I am, to betray Him, to be forced from His side, that I do fear, like nothing else within the realms of all creation.  Do you understand?¡±

    Again, I just nodded silently, trying to get my head around what she¡¯d told me.  True, I¡¯d already known most of it in a purely academic sense, but hearing it from her, hearing the conviction in her normally calm tone, it brought home just how much it meant to her.

    ¡°Though angels are mighty creations we are, in many ways, as flawed as the mortals that came after us,¡± The crimson-winged angel continued. ¡°It is why we can Fall at all, but the greater our strength the more the door to sin opens to us.¡±

    She must have seen the confusion on my face because she quickly explained.

    ¡°The greatest of us, those that serve the Almighty as champions, attendants, or bodyguards, possess weaknesses by virtue of their very strength.  It is as though the strength creates the weakness, with Lucifer being a suitable example.  By his very nature, he strove to be the best that he could, and that was what led to pride seeping into him.  Michael, Raphael, and even Uziel, all of them are warriors, their powers rooted in violence and destruction, even though that is far from all there is to their powers.  They have to fear the sin of wrath. Fear their righteous anger overwhelming them and becoming mindless bloodlust.  Seraphiel, by contrast, is the protector of the Metatron, and in his duty, he has collected the weapons and powers of thousands of defeated foes and fallen friends, in all of heaven there are fewer than a handful who possess arsenals of weapons that can match his, yet this very nature means he must be careful lest he fall into greed.  Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°I . . . think so.¡± I slowly replied, still unsure as to how this applied to me.

    ¡°When such angels leave the heavens and descend to the mortal plane they often take precautions to ensure that they will not succumb to temptation,¡± She continued. ¡°There are far more . . . opportunities here, more than I think you understand.  The very structure of this plane is different from the heavens, the hells, the outer realms of the gods, or the various demi-planes, here is so much . . . emotion?  Sensation?  Neither of those suitably explain it, but by its nature, this is the plane where all the aspects of the other planes can be found in combination.  When an angel takes on flesh on this plane they can experience things that they never could in the heavens, feel things that they would normally find muted.  It makes us even more formidable, even though we must restrain our powers, but it also opens us up to the temptations of sin in a way we would normally be safe from.¡±

    Despite her calm voice, I could see small but distinct hints of tension and . . . shame?  It was in the tenseness of her shoulders, the way her fingers kept on trying to half curl into fists, the way she wasn¡¯t always meeting my eyes.  I supposed I could understand, she was talking about the intrinsic flaws of some of the greatest examples of her kind, essentially airing out some of heaven¡¯s dirty laundry.

    ¡°These precautions normally involve sealing away either emotions or sensations that would lead to whichever sin is the greatest threat to the angel that has come to this plane.  A warrior angel with a predisposition to wrath will deliberately lock themselves in a state of unnatural calm.  Doing so will somewhat impede their ability to battle passionately, but they feel it is a worthy exchange.  Such angels as might fear that their love for mortals might lead them into lust deliberately create bodies without . . . manhood or womanhood so lust has no ground upon which to grow.  Such steps are not always taken, but it happens often enough that it is well understood.

    ¡°Lady Bath Kol has sometimes descended to the mortal plane in a body of flesh, and many times she has seen fit to limit herself as well.  I believe that it is this limitation that you are now experiencing, though how it has fallen upon you I do not know.¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t want to taste?¡±  Something wasn¡¯t adding up.  I could get there being cases of locking away emotion or drives, why would I have lost a sense instead?

    ¡°Lady Bath Kol serves as one of the voices of God upon this plane along with the Metatron¡± Hadriel continued. ¡°Her power is great in many ways, but in no way is it greater than in her voice.  In the past, she has sung gods into death, shattered the walls of divine fortresses with a single note, spoken and been heard across the entirety of a plane!  When she takes flesh that power affects her in a somewhat unusual manner in that it permeates the parts of her that are a part of her voice¡¯s flesh mechanism.  Her lungs, her throat, her mouth, her lips, all of them are saturated by her power and strengthened and enhanced by it.  It is a part of what makes her voice all the more deadly and flexible upon the planes outside of the heavens, but it has other effects as well.

    ¡°Lady Bath Kol can create hurricane-force winds simply with the force of her breath, she is utterly incapable of being slain by either suffocation or poisons in the air.  There is even a legend that she bit through seemingly invincible armour with just her teeth and jaws.

    ¡°However, this created a . . . unique weakness for her in that it also served to enhance her sense of taste to a level beyond that which even a god possesses.¡±

    That brought me out of my thoughts and back to the more immediate matter.  This sounded like it might be a good explanation as to what was going on with me.

    ¡°You cannot imagine what it was like for her, the first time she tasted food,¡± Hadriel explained, her face looking almost haunted. ¡°Bath Kol was of the second generation, the angels that were brought into being to refill the ranks of heaven after the losses from Lucifer¡¯s Fall.  She was the mightiest of that generation, the younger sibling to the likes of Gabriel and Metatron, and she took to her duties with grave determination.  It was only the third time that she had descended to the mortal plane, and it was the first time she had done so when battle was not at hand.  She was there to deliver a message to the old gods that had begun to stir, a message that there would be peace between them and the High Heavens so long as they kept to a certain level of restraint.  They accepted, and there was a banquet in honour of the event.

    ¡°The other angels there had experienced food before, but Lady Bath Kol had never done so.  Most angels only took small servings of food, more as symbolic acceptances rather than serious meals, so as to avoid indulging in gluttony, and she did likewise.  However, she was completely unprepared for just how acute the pleasure of tasting food for the first time would be.¡±

    Her eyes had a faraway look to them now, almost as though she had forgotten that she had an audience and was just sharing her memories with the world.

    ¡°I did not yet exist, but the tale of it was passed down, Lady Bath Kol insisted it not be forgotten.  Other angels wished to erase it from history, to ensure that no blot upon her reputation would ever exist, but she remained firm that it be remembered, that lessons be learnt from it.  I was told the tale by an old soldier, one who was there at the time.  He told me what happened, and showed me the scars that he took.

    ¡°Lady Bath Kol . . . she was driven to near madness by the experience.  She wanted more, needed more, the taste, the sheer intoxication of it . . . it took her like the most potent drug would a mortal, only multiplied a thousandfold.  Had her flesh not been immortal then she would have died from the shock, as it was she went into an almost animalistic frenzy, devouring all the food upon her plate, then consuming that on the plates near her, then seizing any other food she could find!  It was only when her wings began to darken that those angels with her realized what was happening and moved to forcibly restrain her.¡±

    She paused again, this time her eyes did focus in on me, their gaze meeting mine head-on.

    ¡°It was only due to her frenzied state that they were able to do so, Lady Bath Kol is immensely powerful, and under any other circumstances, she would have rendered them apart before they could hold her down.  However, crazed as she was, she did not use her full strength, nor did she bring her voice to bear against them since her whole focus was on gorging herself further.  Even so, grave injuries were dealt, and the warrior who told me the tale showed me the scars he had received, scars that ran even to his spiritual body.

    ¡°They were able to return her to heaven before she Fell, and the Almighty was able to restore her reason before she was consumed by her desires, but it was a terrible experience.  Lady Bath Kol had to work for centuries in order to purify herself of the taint she had gained in only the course of a few moments.  Also, the morale of the angels was heavily impacted by one of the new Great angels almost Falling.  As a result, she chose to seal her sense of taste every time she went to the mortal realm afterwards, as a means to ensure she never lost control in such a manner again.  I think that you have been affected by a similar seal.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°I get why she did it to herself, but why do I have it?¡±

    The angels paused for a moment, then continued.

    ¡°I believe that when the ritual meant to Awaken you was interrupted it caused the imprinting that the Legacies performed during the manifestation of your own divine power to go awry.  You have gained much from Lady Bath Kol, your wings and halo are proof of that, but you also have gained one of the limitations that was imprinted upon her life, her seal against gluttony.¡±

    ¡°So . . . how do I get rid of it?¡±

    I hoped that whatever process was needed wouldn¡¯t take too long, I really wanted to enjoy my breakfast before we began whatever else these two had planned.

    ¡°You would need to abandon your mortal body and ascend to the High Heavens.¡±

    ¡°Errrr . . . what?¡±

    I could do that?  Someone had asked an angel about mortals going to heaven.  They¡¯d answered that heaven was a realm of pure spirit, so it¡¯s impossible for the flesh to enter, the only way that a mortal can go to heaven is when the soul leaves the body . . . by . . .

    Oh.

    ¡°The seal was never meant to be removed.  Indeed, Lady Bath Kol specifically designed it so that she could not remove it even if she wanted to, that way even if she was tempted there would be no danger.  It was placed upon her when she descended to the mortal realm, and would only be removed once she returned to the High Heavens, those were the only conditions placed upon it.¡±

    I . . . I think that I just stopped thinking for a bit there.  My mind was drifting in a sort of numb shock.  Food, and eating, it is such a natural part of our lives that I think most people probably couldn''t consider a life without it.  It makes up such a large part of not just our lives, but also our interactions, eating with others is always a good way to consolidate bonds or establish new ones.  Inviting others over, offering them food, eating it with them, it was all a big part of social interaction.

    And now I wasn¡¯t part of that.  I couldn¡¯t be, not really.

    I just sat there for a bit, feeling stunned.  I only came out of it when Joan gently shook my shoulder.

    ¡°Adam, Adam!  Get hold of yourself!¡±

    ¡°I . . . I . . . Okay, I think I¡¯m good.  I think . . . fuck!¡±

    The expletive slipped out before I could really think about it.  Even as an adult Anthony and Amanda¡¯s contempt of swearwords weighed heavily on me.   And now I¡¯d just gone and sworn in front of a saint . . . and an angel.

    ¡°I understand that you are less than pleased by this situation,¡± Hadriel broke in. ¡°But it is not without benefits.  The same power that has sealed your sense also serves to ensure that you also do not need food or drink.  You need never fear hunger or thirst ever again, so long as the seal remains in place.  Gluttony has been sealed, and so its attendants of needs have also been banished from you.¡±

    Ah, well that certainly explained my lack of an appetite.  I think that I must have still been in shock because I couldn¡¯t seem to muster up any sort of anger or outrage at what had been taken from me.

    ¡°Though . . . do not think that it is forever,¡± Joan chimed in, one of her hands resting on my shoulder. ¡°Honoured Hadriel is correct when she suggested that your seal is not as potent as the one that was worn by Lady Bath Kol, of that I am certain.  Though I cannot hope to affect it, my analysis skills are enough to at least sense the seal upon you.  It is powerful, but I believe an immortal of sufficient power might be able to break it if they were willing to invest the energy and effort needed.  As such, do not give up hope, you may be able to regain what has been lost.¡±

    ¡°I am uncertain as to why you would want to,¡± The angel commented, her face pinched in a slight frown. ¡°The sin of gluttony is forever barred from you, unable to find purchase upon your soul, and the weaknesses of your body are likewise mitigated.  What reason is there to surrender a strength and regain a weakness?¡±

    I found myself staring at her, having some trouble sorting my thoughts into order to respond.  Yeah, I could see where she was coming from, but I couldn¡¯t really agree.  I could feel myself starting to crave small and simple things, chocolate bars, peanuts, pretzels, a salty chicken finger, all of them were little things that I occasionally had as snacks, but now I couldn¡¯t seem to get them out of my head!

    ¡°You are not wrong in your summation, honoured Hadriel, but you forget an important detail,¡± Joan¡¯s reply was calm and respectful, but there was steel in her words, resolve that I hadn¡¯t heard her direct towards the angel before. ¡°Please remember, Adam is a mortal man risen with divinity, not a divine created without mortality.  Sins are a part of their lives, and are even necessary and healthy to them, so long as they do not allow themselves to be swallowed by them.  To have one such natural appetite removed and sealed . . . it could have dangerous effects upon his psyche.¡±

    ¡°Say what?!¡±

    I was the one to ask that question, more than a bit alarmed at the notion.

    ¡°Your body might no longer require food or drink to survive, but it is accustomed to it.  You may no longer feel hunger or thirst, but your body''s appetites will remain, even if your mind can no longer register them.  Intellectually you will crave not the food, but the experience of flavour, of consumption, and this mental hunger will need to find other ways of satiating itself.  I do not know how it will affect you in the days to come, but I do not doubt that it will.¡±

    Joan¡¯s somewhat ominous explanation did not put me at ease.

    ¡°Okay, give it to me straight.  How bad do you think this could get?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t too sure I wanted the answer, but it was better to hear it than to live in ignorance.

    ¡°I am unsure, but I would imagine several reactions that you might experience,¡± the French saint stated, her eyes both kind and considering. ¡°Your mind has lost one intake of sensation, so it may try to compensate by seeking a greater intake in some other manner.  Likewise, I think your body may attempt to translate the appetites it can no longer properly process into different appetites as a means of compensation.

    ¡°In addition, I imagine you will also need to deal with emotional surges as your body finds a new balance.  I do not believe it will be so severe that you need fear for your mental health, but I suggest that you remain as self-aware as you can.¡±

    ¡°God!  It¡¯s just one thing after another, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I asked the question more to the world at large, rather than anyone in specific, but Hadriel still answered.

    ¡°Do not be so free with His name.¡± She didn¡¯t quite snap it, but there was a certain inflexion there that told me not to push things. ¡°And what do you refer to?  Other than the discovery of this seal have you encountered other difficulties?¡±

    Oh, right, there was still the whole ¡®vulnerable belly button¡¯ thing that I had to tell them about.  Well, this was going to be fun.

 Chapter 2: Lessons and Debts: Part One

    Chapter 2: Lessons and Debts

    I stood before Joan and Hadriel, feeling rather like an unprepared recruit on the first days of army training.

    We were out on the white field behind the farmhouse.  I was still shirtless and feeling a bit self-conscious, though neither of my teachers seemed to care about my bare chest, which helped some.  Though it was a bit of a blow to my ego.

    ¡°Adam, honoured Hadriel and I discussed our plans for your training last night.  We have time thanks to the Hallowed Sanctuary, but we must be careful to make the best of it.  This discovery of your weakness will change things later, but for now, we can proceed as we planned.¡±

    All in all, things had gone as well as I could have expected from telling them about my discovery.  Neither of them had started calling me flawed or defective, instead, they¡¯d started talking about armour and other preperations.  It felt good to hear them talk like that, knowing they were in my corner.

    ¡°Okay, so what¡¯re we working on first?¡±

    My question was enthusiastic, but then, was that really a surprise?  That was going to be my first real chance to play with my new powers, how could I not be feeling pumped?

    ¡°The first thing we shall be teaching you is flight,¡± The French saint explained. ¡°As things stand your wings are both impressive and dangerous, but they greatly limit your agility.  You cannot move, dodge and jump as you once did, even if you have grown strong enough to support them without difficulty.  You have already shown hints of levitation and true flight, without the need for your wings flapping.  If you can gain proficiency in this then you shall not only regain all you have lost, but also much more.¡±

    Yeah, I could see the logic there.  Having my wings made getting around the house a chore, in a real fight it would be a damned nightmare as things stood.  Being able to levitate around like a superhero would completely flip that around.

    ¡°Right, so . . . how do I get started?¡±

    ¡°Well, myself and honoured Hadriel spent some time discussing how we use our own means of flight.  Yours shall most likely be different, just as your power is different from ours, but there may be enough similarity to give you a starting point.  Should that fail we can attempt something different.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I nodded again. ¡°So how does flying work for you?¡±

    ¡°In my case, it begins in my wings,¡± Joan explained. ¡°When I wish to fly the power gathers there, suffucing them, then branching into my body, reinforcing it and strengthening the connection to my wings.  When the process is complete I can move the wings as I want and carry my body along in any way I wish.

    ¡°I know that from that description it sounds like a slow and unwieldy method, but in truth it takes but a thought and comes as naturally as breathing.  Nor does it simply make my body a puppet being pulled about by my wings.  I can still move as freely as before, as you have seen in my training.¡±

    ¡°As for myself,¡± Hadriel commented, gesturing to her body. ¡°I simply will my form to move through space as I wish, and it is so.  If I wish to rise further then it shall be so.¡±

    To demonstrate the red-winged angel rose three feet off the ground, then she started to rotate in midair.  Strangely gravity didn¡¯t seem to affect her.  Her hair and, more importantly, her loincloth, still hung down as though she were standing on the ground.

    ¡°I do not need to build any framework, I merely grasp what is already there and move it as I wish.  Perhaps something already exists within you that you can grasp?  I am sorry I cannot provide further guidance.¡±

    She said the last part with a grave look on her face, sort of like a soldier telling a commander that there was an army incoming they intended to fight.  They didn¡¯t know how much time they¡¯d be able to buy, but they planned to do it anyway.  It could have been comical, instead, I found her seriousness oddly reassuring.

    ¡°Okay . . . so I¡¯ve gotta see if I can do something like that.  Give me some time, okay?  I¡¯ll see what I can manage.¡±

    Once they both gave me a nod I sat down on the grass and closed my eyes.  This was going to be the first time I deliberately used my new magic.  Time to see what I was made of.

    Mentally I reached for the new force that flowed through me and was surprised at how easily it answered.  It was just there, and as soon as I focused in on it I felt a connection, one I could reach through and direct it.  I remembered what I had been told, and I started to look for something I could grab onto.

    The problem was that I wasn¡¯t finding anything.

    As I looked into myself I could feel something, the problem was that it felt . . . hollow, empty even.  It was there, running all the way through me, my wings, my body, my arms, my legs, everywhere.  It wasn¡¯t like the weird pathways I¡¯d felt earlier, it didn¡¯t feel that deep, not so much a part of me, but it was at the same time.  Blast it!  Even in my own head, I couldn¡¯t properly put it into words!

    It was like a . . . layer.  Yes, that was a good way to describe it.  My body, no, my existence, had layers to it.  one would be occupied by my core, another would have the circulatory systems of magic and lifeforce, and then there was this one.  It was there, ready and waiting, but it felt wrong, unfinished, empty.

    Okay, if it was empty, then I¡¯d have to see about filling it up.  And I had a decent idea of what to do.

    I felt my magic flowing through me, and then I let it flow a bit further.  I let it out of the layer it had been on and let it flow into the empty part of me.  it all happened so easily, especially compared to my sparking my magic.  This was just something natural, something that might even have been meant to happen on its own.  I could feel the hollow part of me filling up, and then something just . . . it was like stretching a limb that had gone to sleep or a stiff back.  I could practically feel a pleasant crackling as everything was suddenly the way it should be.

    The magic was there now, distributed throughout my body, and solid as a mountain range.  All I needed was the ¡®anchor point¡¯, something I could grab onto, and I had a pretty good idea where it was.  Was this what it normally was like for demigods?  Just intuitively knowing?  No, that wasn¡¯t it.  I didn¡¯t know, but I had a strong hunch, a gut feeling.  It was instinct rather than intuitive knowledge.

    Right, so my centre of balance had moved somewhat due to my new wings, but I could still tell where it was.  Making sure to keep the connection to my newly completed layer I carefully drew more magic from my new core and condensed it there, the streams coming together to form an overlap, a sort of knot of energy felt right, that was holding the whole thing together.

    I took a moment, watching as nothing happened, and then I took my metaphorical finger off the framework I¡¯d constructed and waited to see if it would unravel the instant it was unattended.  To my silent excitement it held, the layers remained tied together, the connection rock solid.  I poked it, my magic moving against the connection, actively trying to disrupt it.  Nothing!  It was working, so . . . I did the only logical thing and just sent the mental command ¡®up¡¯ at it.

    Maybe not the smartest move, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

    The magic that ran through every part of me, from toes to wingtips to the hairs on my head, responded to my mental commands and moved where I wanted.  And it took me with it!

    It didn¡¯t hurt, which was a good thing, but at the same time, it was shockingly disorienting.  It was as though I was being wrenched upwards, but at the same time, I was the one doing the wrenching!  Of course, this was all rather peripheral thinking, all just background to the fact that I was suddenly FLYING INTO THE AIR!!

    It wasn¡¯t graceful, it wasn¡¯t elegant.  In fact, it looked like someone had attached an invisible hook to my spinal column and just yanked me up into the sky.    I¡¯m pretty sure that at one point I was upside down, my legs spinning as though trying to ride an invisible bicycle, my arms trailing behind me, and my wings wildly flapping like a rooster hopped up on drugs and probably a shot of adrenaline.

    But it got better.  That was mainly due to me panicking and shouting ¡®stop¡¯ in my head as loudly as I could.  It worked though, and it¡¯s best not to argue things shake out in your favour.

    I found myself up in the air, my position still awkward, but steady at least.  By the looks of it, my magic had readily responded to my wishes, and it only took me a moment to right myself so that I was effectively standing in mid-air.  I probably should have paused there, taken some time to take stock and see how I could get a handle on it.  Unfortunately, I was still too excited with my success, so rather than a slow and steady approach I instead elected to see just how far I could push myself.

    ¡®Higher!¡¯.  ¡®Faster!¡¯.  I wasn¡¯t really using words in my head anymore, rather I was just pushing the concepts at the magic inside me, but that didn¡¯t seem to matter, since it responded immediately.  I was moving through the air with ease, my eyes fixed upon the distant blue of the sky.  The wind was whistling about me and I could feel it in my face, but oddly it didn¡¯t blow so hard that I had to close my eyes, rather it was just a gentle breeze.  I wondered if that was some part of my power, something to ensure that I wouldn¡¯t have the flesh stripped from my face if I went too fast.  After all, it wouldn¡¯t be practical to be cruising along at speeds normally reserved for military aircraft, then be blinded by some insect flying into your face.  Then my eyes focused on the distant blue, and for a bit, I just stopped thinking.

    More, faster, higher, that was all there was.  I don¡¯t think there exist words to describe the sheer rush of emotions that passed through me as I climbed higher into the sky.  Freedom, absolute freedom, that was the best way I could describe it.  For the first time in my life, it was as though there were absolutely no barriers in my way, as though I could go anywhere I wanted!  I think some part of me knew that it wasn¡¯t a rational feeling, that it was just . . . something like an illusion, or maybe a wish that I was a bit closer to.  I knew I wasn¡¯t free, not like that, there were still barriers and responsibilities that tied me, but for those glorious few moments, I could pretend otherwise, and have a good chance of believing it.

    I think I might have been laughing, or maybe crying, I couldn¡¯t really tell.  All that mattered was the sheer joy of the moment, like a thing out of a most treasured dream.

    And, sadly, like all dreams it ended.

    I began to try to see how much agility I had in the air.  I think I wanted to try doing things like loop de loops, or maybe some sort of barrel roll, or one of another dozen manoeuvres I¡¯d seen fighter jets pull off in various action films over the years.  Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t get the chance to try any of them, because the first thing I did was go to a more horizontal posture and try to do a typical ¡®flying superhero¡¯ pose.  You know, the one where you have your fists thrust out in front of you as though preparing to act as a battering ram.  Well, as soon as I took the position I instinctively looked down.

    And it was at that point that I realized just how high up I was.

    And . . . I suffered from a fear of heights, right?  Well, as it turns out being able to fly doesn¡¯t make those fears magically disappear, regardless of magic being what¡¯s letting you fly.

    I froze. It sounds simple, but believe me, it was way more complicated.  My muscles locked up on me, as though I could avoid the drop beneath me by being so still that it wouldn¡¯t notice me, then my mind followed.   Up until that point, my mind had been racing.  For a time that rush of thoughts had been subsumed by the sheer pleasure of flight, of freedom, but even so, they had still been there in the background.

    That changed as I looked down and saw the drop beneath me.  The long, LONG drop.  That sight was enough that the frantic thoughts that had been dashing about in my mind all froze as if they had been turned into stone!

    Simply put, I gave my brain the old ¡®blue screen of death¡¯, and then I fell out of the sky like a rock.

    ¡°ADAM!!¡±

    Luckily, the shout snapped me out of it before I hit the ground.  It was a voice I¡¯d grown accustomed to heeding over my training, after all, failing to do so normally resulted in a wooden sword to the head.  This time the urgency in the voice was enough to get me thinking again, and just in time to see the white field beneath me was getting very close very fast!

    There wasn¡¯t time for any sort of plan, all I could do was wrench on my new power as hard as I could in an effort not to smash straight into the ground.

    I might have been able to avoid an impact altogether, but I still wasn¡¯t used to my new wings.  As I tried to get control my right wing involuntarily dipped, just enough to dig the wingtip into the soil and catch on a stone.  My flight became a tumble, and then a rolling crash, my wings instinctively folding up around me protectively as I careened through the grass.

    As I came to a tangled halt I looked up and gave my brilliant assessment of my first flight.

    ¡°Errr . . . that could have gone better?¡±

    For a guy whose mind had just been racing along at speeds that should have left a race car in the dust, I was having more than a bit of trouble getting back to normal.

    ¡°There is room for improvement,¡± Hadriel agreed. ¡°Even so, before you lost control you were flying quite admirably.  You have both considerable speed already, and you shall gain manoeuvrability with experience.¡±

    Okay, that wasn¡¯t bad.  Still, her words made me think of something.

    ¡°Are we going to be okay?  I went up pretty high, I didn¡¯t leave the Sanctuary, did I?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t asked Hadriel what the size of the protective spell was.  I mean, she¡¯d said they covered the local area, so it was probably at least a kilometre or so in radius, but how high did it go?  Was it spherical, or did it look like a massive invisible cube?  Or a pyramid?  Or maybe it was like a massive invisible temple, complete with marble statues or their invisible magical equivalent at least?

    ¡°You have nothing to fear in that regard,¡± The red-winged angel assured me. ¡°The Sanctuary extends great distances into the sky, you could easily have soared as much as ten times that height and still be within its protection.¡±

    Well, the first part was good enough, since it meant I probably didn¡¯t have to worry about accidentally flying out of the spell¡¯s protection due to carelessness.  Unfortunately, the image of flying so much higher in the way she described gave a quick flashback to that horrible moment when I¡¯d turned on my back and realized just how high up I was.  The thought of doing that again, only this time being ten times higher up in the air . . . well, I felt my stomach drop at the thought.

    ¡°Adam . . .?¡±

    And of course, Joan would notice!  So much for trying to subtly steer the conversation where I wanted it to go.  Biting back a sigh I decided to take a moment to try and evaluate my situation rationally.  I didn¡¯t want to have to reveal my little phobia, but when I thought about it, did I really have a choice?

    No, not really.  Both of the heavenly agents were here to train me, and flight provided too great an advantage to be ignored.  It added an entirely new dimension for me to manoeuvre in and was probably faster than anything I could do by sheer muscle power. Not to mention that simply going airborne would put me out of range of any close-quarters fighter that lacked flight ability of their own.  Flying gave so many more options.  Expecting either of these seasoned fighters to ignore such an obvious asset was ridiculous, which meant that sooner or later I was going to have to explain why I didn¡¯t want to get too high.  And if I didn¡¯t want to look like a total idiot then ¡®sooner¡¯ was a better option than ¡®later¡¯.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Still, that didn¡¯t make this feel any less humiliating.

    ¡°Look, I . . . I¡¯ve got a problem with heights, okay?  When I was flying I looked down, saw how high up I was and . . . I just kind of blanked out for a bit.¡±  I paused for a moment, my eyes dipping to the ground, not wanting to meet that of either of the two women. ¡°Look, it¡¯s embarrassing, but if we¡¯re going to do some training then I figured you needed to know about this.¡±

    I looked up to see that there was a distinct frown forming on Hadriel¡¯s face, as though she was a normal young woman who had just seen a small stain on an otherwise perfectly white piece of clothing she¡¯d just bought. Joan looked a bit more sympathetic though.

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t like to talk about it, but yeah.  Heights . . . I can¡¯t deal with them that well.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing for you to be ashamed of,¡± She assured me. ¡°We mortals, no matter how we ascend in power, remain flawed and incomplete beings.  I possess a fear of spiders that still lingers from when I was a little girl, one that stays with me even now that I wield the power granted to me by the Lord.  Is that absurd?  I have been trained to battle demons and rampaging monsters, yet I feel fear when faced with an insect that I can crush with my smallest finger?¡±

    Really?  Joan of Arc, a resurrected saint, was scared of spiders?  The thought was so absurd as to be comical, but I restrained the urge to laugh.  Instead, I took her sharing of her phobia in the spirit I thought it was being offered, as a show of solidarity, an acknowledgement that none were without some sort of flaw or weakness.  I answered her smile with a grin of my own.

    ¡°Well, maybe now that I can fly I can get over it?  I mean, if I can¡¯t fall then maybe I can get rid of my fears?¡±

    ¡°A worthy goal, Adam.  To overcome a weakness is a mark of strength.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  Does that mean you¡¯ll be looking to face some spiders while I¡¯m up in the sky?¡±  My tone was light, not meant to be hostile, but I confess to feeling just a bit of guilty satisfaction when I saw her give a tiny flinch.

    ¡°We . . . we shall see what the future brings us,¡± She replied. ¡°Now, let us see what else you have gained besides the ability to fly.  I do not imagine that such is the limit of either your wings or your halo.¡±

    ¡°Halo?¡±

    The question popped out in a tone of utter confusion, and I confess that the first thing that came to mind was the computer game that Doug swore was one of the great works of art of the new millennium.  Me, I wasn¡¯t so keen on it.  Sure, the games had some pretty decent storylines, but the gameplay didn¡¯t really appeal to me all that much, something that Doug considered to be borderline heresy.  For a moment I wondered why she thought I¡¯d have a copy of the game on me, then I noticed the expression on her face.

    ¡°Did we not mention it to you?¡± Joan sounded a bit embarrassed. ¡°I am sorry, in all the confusion after that demonic parasite and then with your sealed hunger . . . my sincere apologies.  It must have slipped my mind.¡±

    She gestured above me.

    ¡°It would seem that you have gained more angelic features than just your wings.¡±

    I stared at her for a moment, then looked up, thinking of the ring of light that appeared above her when she transformed.  What I found . . . wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d been expecting.  What I saw was something closer to Hadriel¡¯s metal halo, but far more complex.  There was a beauty to it, but it was an alien sort of beauty.  The way the components were hovering so close together, yet not touching, seemingly connected by strange shimmers that could barely be seen.  There was something otherworldly about it, as though it didn¡¯t quite belong here, but here it was anyway.

    So naturally, I poked it.

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s cool.¡±

    The pieces stayed in the air, only moving to follow my head when I moved.  That aside there was no give to them, they remained rock solidly in place even when I pushed them as hard as I could.  The individual pieces were also hard and sturdy, even the thin ones that looked like they should have been only slightly tougher than tinfoil.

    I think that by that point my mind had sort of reached a saturation point when it came to shocks because the world seemed to be unfolding in front of me with an odd sense of unreality.  First, I¡¯d been flying, then I¡¯d been crashing, then I¡¯d found out Joan of Arc had a fear of spiders, and then I learnt I had a halo, I don¡¯t think it was all that hard to see why I might be feeling more than a bit on the overwhelmed side.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Hadriel spoke up, her tone serious. ¡°That you have gained a halo speaks well for your future development.  It means that you shall be able to control some of the more elemental forces of the world.  This should grant you more options to use in battle, once you gain sufficient proficiency.¡±

    I heard her words, but they didn¡¯t seem to be really registering with me.  Instead, I found my eyes drifting to the halo that hung behind her own head.  Why was it metal instead of energy, like Joan¡¯s?  And for that matter, why was it behind her head instead of above it?  Did that have some sort of significance?

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    Joan¡¯s voice, sounding concerned, brought me out of my distracted thoughts.  I closed my eyes and gave my head a shake, trying to concentrate.

    ¡°Sorry.  I got lost in my thoughts there.  What was that?¡±

    A small frown crossed Hadriel¡¯s face, but it was quickly gone, replaced with a more considering look.

    ¡°I was commenting upon what other gifts you may have received with your Awakening,¡± She explained. ¡°Lady Joan has told me that your appearance has undergone several changes, such as the darkening of your skin and the change of your eyes.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°There are some basic tests,¡± the angel continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°They shall not denote your full power or potential, but they shall at least grant us a general notion of what manner some of your powers have manifested in.  They are easily conducted as well, so how about it?  We shall conduct the tests, then you may retire back into the domicile to rest and recover?¡±

    For a moment I just blinked at her, confused as to what she might be talking about, then I realized just how exhausted I felt.  Maybe it had been the earlier surge of energy that had kept me from noticing, but now it was hitting me all at once, just out of the blue.

    I guessed that would explain my earlier fuzzy-headedness, but I was determined not to let it get in my way.  Maybe it was a bit childish of me, but I¡¯d just made progress with my powers, I wanted to know what else I might have gained.  I just had to tough it out for a bit, then I could go back to my bed and collapse onto it.

    Funny though, I still wasn¡¯t hungry.  How long had it been since I had something to eat?  Something like two days now!  The thought that one of my powers was no longer feeling hunger drifted through my mind again.  I wondered if despite not being hungry I should still be eating.  I didn¡¯t want to starve myself to death just because I didn¡¯t feel any hunger.

    For her part, Hadriel just slowly floated over to me until only a couple of feet separated us.  She then raised her right arm in front of her, as though defending herself with an invisible shield.

    ¡°Strike my arm as hard as you can!¡± She declared. ¡°Be certain to put your best effort into it, I shall be able to gauge your current strength from it.¡±

    For just a moment I considered protesting, saying that I was worried that I might hurt her.  Then I realized I was being stupid.  Yeah, I might have gotten a power-up, but was I really so arrogant as to think that I¡¯d be able to hurt someone like a warrior angel with something as simple as a punch?

    Nodding I placed my feet in as strong a stance as I could manage.  My balance was still off, but I still gave it my best.  My clenched fist hit Hadriel¡¯s forearm and failed to move it so much as a millimetre.  Even though her skin was soft, the muscle and bone beneath were so solid that it felt like I¡¯d tried to punch a tree trunk.  I felt a shock run up my arm, but strangely enough, there was no pain.

    ¡°Let me see your hand.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a command, rather it was a statement of fact, her telling me how the world was going to be.  Hadriel didn¡¯t have charisma, at least not of the type that made you want to do what she said.  Instead, she had something very close to it.  You felt drawn to her because of her domineering manner, her seemingly iron-hard certainty in both herself and her place in the universe.  I admit, the way she spoke did rankle me a bit.  But however overbearing she might be I was willing to put up with it.

    Holding out my hand it was quickly seized and inspected, my knuckles poked at, and then brought up to her eye level for closer scrutiny.  As she did so I was suddenly very aware that I was standing right next to possibly the hottest woman I¡¯d ever personally met, and she was not only fiddling with my hand, she was also wasn¡¯t wearing very much.  Oh, and due to her hovering a bit off the ground, as well as her natural height, her more than ample chest was positioned right at my eye level.

    Generally, I tried to ignore how Hadriel was barely wearing more than the average bikini.  Sure, she was beautiful, but she had ¡®off limits¡¯ built in.  I knew she wasn¡¯t trying to flirt or tease, but come on!

    Turning my attention to Joan, and trying to distract mayself, I realised that she¡¯d apparently been prepared to be active, but had never put on her armour this morning . . . which meant she was dressed in close-fitting leather leggings and a tunic that also fit her pretty snuggly.

    It was just another layer of crazy to my situation.  I was in the company of the two most beautiful women I¡¯d ever met, and both of them were so off limits they might as well have been hiding in fortresses.  Neither of them were trying to get my attention or be hot, but it was pretty hard for them to not do it.

    Gods, once this was all over I¡¯d have to think about getting a girlfriend.

    ¡°Your blow was a strong one, at least by mortal standards,¡± The crimson-winged angel¡¯s voice interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the matter at hand, literally in fact. ¡°Very strong indeed.  You are also unhurt, despite my flesh being more resistant to damage.  You have suffered no injuries, not even small bruises.¡±

    She paused, letting go of my hand and drifting a couple of feet back.  Her eyes raked over my exposed arms and torso as though I were a new piece of equipment being inspected by a new owner, one that had high expectations of their purchase.  Checking me out to see if I was worth the time and energy she was going to invest in me.

    I had to say, that did wonders to flatten my libido.  The knowledge that Hadriel, for all of her hotness, didn¡¯t view me as more than a material to work with hit like a cold shower.

    ¡°You have both strength and endurance, though both of them are not as potent as they could be.  Your strength is at the limits of mortal flesh, whilst your body can also endure punishment that would have broken it before.  Your vitality seems to have been increased as well, which should lead to you being able to heal faster on your own.  As matters stand you are as potent as a mortal could be in any of these aspects, the combination making you greater than a mortal could naturally be.

    ¡°This is a suitable beginning point, and we shall be able to build upon it as your powers grow.¡±

    I blinked, my mind going over her words and realizing what they were implying.

    ¡°Wait!  I¡¯m going to get stronger?  I thought that when demigods got their powers they just went up to their natural levels right away!¡±

    In response to my question the crimson-winged angel looked at me as though thanking the heavens she had patience to spare.

    ¡°Adam, had the ritual been uninterrupted then that might be the case.  You would have awakened to the full potency of your might and possessed all the intuitive mastery of your powers that other demigods enjoy.  As things stand you shall need to build yourself up, not merely in your skills with your abilities, but also concerning your body.¡±

    Okay, when she put it that way, I couldn¡¯t help but feel like a bit of an idiot for even asking the question, but it still didn¡¯t clarify the situation to me.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You have hidden powers yet to find,¡± Hadriel explained. ¡°But you have also yet to reach the limits of what your flesh is capable of becoming.  Though the more subtle uses of magic are not a skill I have cultivated I can feel the channels of divinity in your flesh.  At this time they are slim and undeveloped, able to provide you with only moderate benefits.  But in time they will grow, and your power shall grow with them.¡±

    That I liked the sound of, though having to wait for it wasn¡¯t as welcome a notion.

    ¡°Can we speed it up?  Couldn¡¯t we . . . I don¡¯t know, inject more divinity into them and make them grow faster?¡±

    It was Joan who responded, shaking her head even as she offered me a smile.

    ¡°It will not work, Adam,¡± She calmly stated, her smile both encouraging and a bit wry. ¡°I know something of what honoured Hadriel speaks of, it is similar to the blessing that the Lord granted me in this body in order to possess the strength I now have.  Channels of divine energy run through my body, increasing its strength and durability beyond the bounds of what mere flesh can be.  You have those same channels in you, I can faintly sense them now that I know they are there, but they cannot be forced to grow.  In time they will absorb energy from you to grow larger and fuller, and the strength and protection of your body will grow with them.  Think of them as muscles that constantly exercise themselves, steadily growing stronger all the time.  Were you to flood them in an attempt to force them to grow stronger they would rupture instead.  At best you would sicken until they healed, and at worst you might cripple yourself and become unable to reach your full potential.¡±

    I nodded, even as I felt confusion flash across my face.

    ¡°Okay, I get that, but what do you mean about channels of divinity?  Is that like Chi?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Hadriel spoke, drawing my attention back to her. ¡°Divinity is another of the energies that now flows through you.¡±

    ¡°So . . . I¡¯ve got Chi, magic, and now divinity?  Just how many of these are running through me?  Do I even have room for them all?¡±

    As I asked the question, I had a mental image of various coloured lines running through me, crowding each other out until they dissolved in a mess akin to the crayon scrawls of a child.

    ¡°I know it might seem strange,¡± Joan allowed, her smile now reassuring. ¡°But there is no danger of them coming into conflict with each other.  Though they occupy the same space they do not exist in the same phase, as such there is no chance of them meeting unless you deliberately try to make it so, and even then it will be a difficult task.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®the same phase¡¯?¡±

    ¡°The reality that we exist in on the mortal plane is not a single absolute block,¡± Joan explained.  ¡°There are layers to it, and something that exists only in one layer cannot affect another.  That is how matters work in regard to the different energies that course through you, due to their differing natures they occupy different layers, and so they all flow through you, but never interact unless you press them together.¡±

    I nodded slowly, I¡¯d felt those layers within myself, though I imagined those were different.

    ¡°So . . . how tough am I?¡±

    I supposed that was the most important thing to find out, strength I could probably work out on my own, but knowing what kind of damage I could endure was vital.  It would hardly do to think myself bulletproof, only to learn otherwise only after getting shot.

    My question caused Hadriel to frown slightly, but not in annoyance, rather it was because she was scrutinizing me again.

    ¡°Lady Joan, you mentioned that our charge¡¯s skin has grown darker since his Awakening, correct?¡±  When the resurrected saint nodded she continued. ¡°Some form of protection or invulnerability is not uncommon amongst demigods.  In many cases, heroes or those of divine blood can gain greater protection by undergoing trials or tortures.  For the Norse, it was Seigfred who gained invulnerability by bathing in the blood of a dragon.  For the Greeks, it was bold Achilles who became nigh immortal by being bathed in the waters of the river Styx.  In the lands of China, Sun Wukong was cooked alive in the furnace of a great Immortal but gained resistance and endurance without measure from it rather than succumbing to death.  In all of their cases, their gifts marked their skins in some form.¡±

    She paused then, her eyes rather pointedly looking at me.

    ¡°So, you think that¡¯s happened with me?¡±  I asked, poking my left bicep as I did so.  It didn¡¯t feel any more resistant than it should have, but I did notice that when I pushed my nail into my flesh I didn¡¯t feel even a hint of pain.

    ¡°Perhaps, in time,¡± The angel allowed. ¡°I can sense that many of the channels for your divinity run through your skin, so in time it will be strongly affected.  There is a strong chance this will lead to you being protected, but it might also mean something else.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps invisibility, perhaps being able to cast flames from your skin, there is no way to be certain.  Not with the limited knowledge we have, but there are some tests that I can conduct.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t too sure about that.  As soon as she mentioned experiments I got this mental image of her in a lab coat and writing on a clipboard while I was strapped to a medical table and getting poked with various sharp and pointy things.  The inane thought reminded me of just how tired I felt.  Sure, I¡¯d managed to scrounge up a second wind, but it was beginning to flag a bit as time went on.

    Still, I wasn¡¯t out of energy just yet, so when Hadriel gestured for me to hold out my arm I did so.  Mind you, I was taken a bit by surprise when she then proceeded to jab a nail into my forearm.  Yes, I had done the same thing just a moment before, but even though her nails looked as though she¡¯d just had a very expensive manicure they still felt as though they were made of iron and sharpened on whetstones.  The nail of her index finger punched into my skin easily enough, causing a small trickle of blood to well up.  I let out a yelp, more out of surprise than anything else, but was unable to pull away as Hadriel continued to hold my wrist.  I might have become stronger, but there was no doubt that the angel was still well above me in that department, I might as well have been trying to budge a cast iron statue.

    It didn¡¯t really hurt all that much though.  Sure, there was a bit of a sting as the nail broke my skin, but it faded quickly.  Might that be a part of it, some sort of increase in my pain tolerance?  I watched with a certain disgusted fascination as the red-winged angel flexed her finger, moving the buried nail about within my flesh.  More blood came out but not a worrying amount, there was also some pain, but it was more like being pinched rather than stabbed, unpleasant, but bearable.  After a moment she pulled her finger back, then looked me in the face.

    ¡°Your skin is most certainly more durable than it would naturally be,¡± She assured me. ¡°It is hardly as invulnerable as that of Achilles, who could turn aside the blows of swords wielded by heroes, but it certainly feels much stronger than it should be.  If I were to make an estimate I would say that your shin is now roughly as resistant to damage as leather armour of moderate quality.  The flesh beneath your skin is also strong, more resistant to tearing and bruising than before.¡±

    Again, she paused, her finger sliding across my skin to wipe away the blood on my arm, exposing the now scabbed over cut.

    ¡°It would seem it is not simply your endurance to harm that has grown, you also heal faster, though I am uncertain if this is a result of a direct power, or simply a side-effect of your enhanced vitality.¡±

    Well, that was good to know.  Sure, I wasn¡¯t Wolverine, but this was something.  Normally a cut like that would take as long as minutes to stop bleeding and scab over, for me it had only been seconds.  It might not be enough to let me grow back chopped-off limbs, but it was worth something, right?

    ¡°This is good.  We shall be able to hold back less in your training, also you will be able to recover faster as well.  Between this and Lady Joan¡¯s healing, we will able to make the most of the time that the Hallowed Sanctuary has provided us with."

    I froze, and in that frozen instant I realized just how all those nice little details were actually adding up to a rather unpleasant final sum.  Joan had been bad enough, but she was generally nice about it.  Hadriel might have the whole ¡®professional¡¯ thing going for her, but a friendly disposition didn¡¯t really seem to be on the cards.

    Was it any wonder that I was seeing many bruises and much discomfort in the future?

    --------------------------------------------------------

 Chapter 2: Lessons and Debts: Part Two

    The scarred man pulled his coat in closer around him as the night¡¯s chill tried to seep in.  In the distance, he could hear the roar of the ocean¡¯s tide sweeping in, and about him, he could feel the cold wind.  In a way, it was amusing, that he was being forced to face such conditions in the height of summer.  Just yesterday, when he had slept in one of the guest rooms of his robed associate, he¡¯d done so with the window open and only a thin bedsheet covering his form, and even then he had felt hot.  Now, he was all but shivering as the cold seemed to try to leech his heat away.

    Still this spot, upon the southeastern shores of Greenland, had been where the immortal he had petitioned had chosen to meet him.  In truth, the scarred man had no idea why she had chosen such an inhospitable place to hear his proposal, but he supposed he should be glad that his request had been answered at all.  However, a spot so far from the nearest mortal settlements was disconcerting, especially given her reputation for ruthlessness.  If he was unable to persuade her to aid them then she might simply kill him to ensure he couldn¡¯t reveal where he¡¯d met her to anyone else.

    Not for the first time he asked himself why he was doing this, why he was gambling not simply with the possibility of his death, but with the chance of a living death with a broken mind, or even an undeath of torment for his eternal soul.  However, the simple fact was that he had no choice!

    He and his associate had failed their patron, and the one they served was not a forgiving or understanding god.    At first, he had believed that he and his robed host only had a few days to work with. But then they had received word from their god, telling them of their fate.  Their position in his good graces was precarious, and they knew it. As of yet, their patron had inflicted no punishment upon them, but that uncertainty was a subtle form of torture by itself.

    There had been moments when he and his ally had considered giving up their plan as too dangerous.  However, their patron was not known for his forgiveness of failure.  They needed some way to win their way back into his good graces, so they needed to do more than just wait for him to come to a decision.  They needed to demonstrate their value, that they should not just be cast aside for a single failure.

    Another chilling gust of wind sliced through the air and drew him from his thoughts.  The scarred man was currently sheltering amidst a small hollow formed by several large boulders leaning up against each other, but it was far from an ideal shelter.  Tugging at his hood in an attempt to get some more coverage over his face the mage looked about once more, struggling to see any hint of the immortal he was here to meet amidst the gloom of early night.

    ¡°So, you came, I am uncertain if I should be amused or irritated.¡±

    She was suddenly just there, no sign of approach, no hint of movement.  There had been a sound vaguely like the fluttering of many wings and when he looked back, there she was, as though she had been standing there the whole time.  Her sudden appearance took him completely off guard and sent him stumbling back a couple of paces before he recovered his composure.

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Her voice was soft and melodious, yet still reached him despite the wind blowing about them. ¡°After the Black Sun, I found you and offered to take you into my service.  It was a good offer, one that many mortals would have begged for upon bent knees.  Sworn fealty and service in exchange for power and protection was a fair bargain, but you chose to follow another.  Still, here we find ourselves.  Does this mean that your heart has changed, and you seek a new patron?¡±

    The woman who stood before him was not tall.  Still, despite her rather average stature, there was something about her that made her seem to loom over him.  It was a presence that extended beyond the simple reach of her body, leaving him feeling smaller and stunted.  There were also small things about her, things that set the hairs on his neck on end.  There was how her hair didn¡¯t move in time with the wind, or how her breath did not produce mist in the cold as his did.  How she showed no sign of feeling the chill, or how she seemed to stand so easily upon loose sand and pebbles making no sound.

    For a moment he wondered if he was speaking to an illusion.  But then she turned, and he felt the air move with her, even smelt the faint scent of apple blossoms that came from her on the air currents.  She was here, it was just that the elements seemed unable to touch her as they did him, and that strangeness at once added to and tainted her beauty.

    Her skin had a pale quality to it that was pristine whereas his own was pallid and unhealthy.  Her dark chestnut brown hair fell down her back in a wave that was both thick and lustrous, while pine green eyes gazed out from a face meant to break hearts.  Even her body was near perfect, that of an aristocratic beauty that was still every bit as compelling as it might have been centuries ago.

    The dress she wore was of an old design from the Dark Ages of Europe.   One made out of dark silks and satins, the edges trimmed in gold and clinging close to the contours of her body in a way that showed nothing but hinted at much.  And her fingers were adorned with many bejewelled rings that sparkled even in the dim light of the rising moon.  Strangely she also wore metal armour upon her shoulders, two elaborately shaped pieces that covered her silk-clad shoulders and the outer part of her upper arms.  Each piece had the image of a tree inlaid upon it. The tree on her right shoulder was in full bloom of summer, with leaves and fruit upon it, while the left one showed only a bare tree in winter.

    Still, for all her striking appearance he could not allow himself to be distracted.  She had questioned his reason for this meeting, and if he failed to answer then he might lose more than just this opportunity.

    ¡°I know that you found another to serve as your teacher, and I have a strong notion as to who they are.  That one is protective of what is his, and he is not one that I wish to cross.  Seeking to lure away his servants would lead to a feud between us, and though you are of some interest you are not so valuable that I would set myself against him in order to secure you to my service.¡±

    ¡°On that, you needn¡¯t worry,¡± He ventured. ¡°I do not seek to change allegiance, rather I¡¯m looking to see if we can make a deal, one that would be to both our advantages.¡±

    This was going to be the most difficult part of negotiations, namely getting her to agree to even listen to him.  The scarred man was well aware of how weak his position was.  He had almost nothing that she would want, but he was in dire, if not desperate, need of her aid.  She could refuse him and lose nothing, whereas if he was refused then all that would be left to him was the dubious mercy of his patron.

    ¡°Oh?  So, you have called me out here to discuss a deal as though I were some vendor at a street market?¡± Her voice was no longer as cordial as it once was, now there was an edge to it. ¡°A brave choice.  Foolish, but brave.  Who do you think I am, some errant imp to come running at your word if a pact is suggested?  Do you think me so hungry for the scraps you can offer that my attention can be so carelessly called upon?¡±

    It was all he could do to keep from visibly shaking.  Everything about her suddenly seemed to scream of a barely restrained threat!  Her stance seemed deadlier, her garments were less elegant and more like subtle armour, even the very shadows around her seemed to darken and conceal the area about her, hiding her movements and any allies she might call upon.  Suddenly he was all too aware that while he might be a large fish in his pond, the woman before him was a shark, one made so by her own efforts and cunning.

    Ignoring the way the dampness of the ground began to seep into his clothing, the scarred mage went down to one knee before the immortal.

    ¡°Never would I be so foolish as to underestimate you so!¡± He declared, forcing as much sincerity and respect into his words as he could. ¡°As you have said, I have already chosen my master, but even so I would be a fool indeed if I were to disregard your wisdom and power!¡±

    ¡°Sweet words, but you had best have more than that to offer, else you shall learn that your master is not the only one you need fear.¡±

    Okay, this was it!  Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small metal and glass jar, one so small and flat that it might have been mistaken for a pair of glass coins stacked upon each other.  Inside was a small quantity of red liquid, held in a state of freshness by a carefully crafted preservative spell.  As though he were offering a crown to a king, he held it out to the immortal before him.

    ¡°And what is this?  Do you think some trace of blood shall be sufficient to buy my favour?¡±

    Her words were still grim, but he noted that she no longer felt quite so threatening.  He knew it was only a small reprieve.  He was a naked child before a starving lioness.  But for the moment at least he had her interest.

    ¡°If you will allow me a moment to explain, then perhaps you may see that I bring more than mere empty words.¡±

    There was a dreadful moment where she just looked at him, letting the tension build, and then she gave a single nod of her head.  It was all he could do not to let his breath escape him in an explosion of relief.  The first hurdle had been passed, now he just had to keep going and hope that his estimates of what she wanted and what she was willing to bargain with were on target.

    ¡°Some time ago my new patron set a task to myself and an . . . associate. We were charged to take custody of a newly found demigod, one that had yet to Awaken, but one who it was thought would come to possess considerable power.  Other factions had an interest in him though, and so we lost track of him as his new guard hid him away.  We were able to locate him though, and dispatched a force of servitors to secure him.  Unfortunately, things did not go according to plan, and his assigned guardian was more potent than anticipated.  Our forces were lost, and the portal we used was destroyed, leaving the demigod far out of our reach.

    ¡°Still, our efforts were not without some reward.  We were able to take some of the demigod¡¯s blood, enough for four of those small vials, one of which we now offer to you as a gift, a sign of goodwill.  We hope that you shall find it enough to your taste that you shall look upon our further entreaties with favour.¡±

    By the time he had finished speaking the immortal was looking at the scarred man with a bemused mixture of irritation and disbelief.

    ¡°Truly?  This is the best that you can offer?  This is the best scheme you could hatch?  The blood of a demigod is of use, but you already admit that this is but one of several, a truth that decreases its worth!  If this is some sad attempt at humour to stoke some sense of pity in my heart, then you are failing most spectacularly.¡±

    He tried, he truly did try to maintain control, but despite his best efforts, he couldn¡¯t keep himself from convulsively swallowing as he felt fear build in his throat.  Taking a deep breath he soldiered on, hoping that he wasn¡¯t damning himself with his own words.

    ¡°Any other time you would be correct, but this demigod, he¡¯s different!¡±

    ¡°Oh?  And how can you be so sure?  What makes you so certain that this tiny portion of his blood is valuable enough to warrant my attention, much less my gratitude?¡±

    Alright, here went his best stab at getting this to work.

    ¡°Because when this demigod Awakened, the flare of his power illuminated half the world.¡±

    He could see it, the moment when the pieces slid into place and she understood what it was he was offering.  This had been a major gamble upon their part, as that blood was their best hope for gaining mitigation for any punishment their patron might place upon them for their failure.  But it was also their best chance to curry favour with the immortal, and such favour would open up many paths that would otherwise be closed to them, paths that could lead to the salvation they sought.

    ¡°I see . . .¡± Her voice was softer now, more contemplative. ¡°This is indeed a valuable prize that you offer to me and not one that I would accept ungraciously.¡±

    As she spoke, she extended a hand and delicately picked up the tiny vial.  For a moment she held it between her fingers, studying it with an almost frightening intensity, and in the next instant, it had vanished into the voluminous darkness of her sleeve as her eyes returned to the scarred man still kneeling before her.

    ¡°Very well, this is a suitable enough tribute that I am willing to hear you out, explain your notion to me.¡±

    ¡°Though we failed in our primary mission we were able to retrieve the blood, however, that is not enough on its own,¡± The scarred man remained kneeling as he explained. ¡°We had thought that the price of our failure would be swiftly exacted upon us, but when we were offered a reprieve, we decided to use that time to secure some further means to placate our patron.¡±

    The scarred man knew that he was being perhaps overly formal in his speech, but the immortal before him had once lived in court, and he had no desire to accidentally offend her by being coarse as he begged for her help.

    ¡°However, the more mundane lines of supply that we have access to cannot provide what we need, thus we sought to entreat you for aid!¡±

    ¡°And what do you expect from me?  What is it that you would come to me in search of?¡±

    The kneeling magic user paused for a moment, martialling his nerve as he prepared for what was to come.

    ¡°Power, that is what our patron seeks, and that is what we hope to provide.  Artefacts, weapons, spells, any sort of resource, so long as it is powerful enough to earn his favour!¡±

    The immortal¡¯s head tilted slightly to the side, her gaze staring down at him as her eyes seemed to disappear into the shadows.  For a moment it was as though she were wearing a veil that obscured her features.

    ¡°Marcello.  Marcello, Marcello, Marcello . . .  It is truly a shame that you did not choose to accept my offer.  Oh, the sorcerer I could have made of you . . .¡±  She shook her head as though to dislodge a bothersome fly, then focused back upon the scarred man. ¡°I think there are some items in my possession that would be able to meet your needs, things that your god would be eager to possess in turn.  Were you to give them to him you would be all but assured to return to his favour, of that much I am certain.  I am also willing to allow you to buy them if you can meet the price.  The question is, whether you will be able, or even willing, to.¡±

    The scarred man heard her, but despite the importance of the situation he was having trouble concentrating past his shock.

    His name, she knew his name!

    Names had power, this was one of the most basic rules of magic in the world.  Just how much power such names possessed varied depending upon the school being used, the entities involved, and how that name had been gained in the first place.  He was tied to several different schools, and in the circles he travelled giving his name out willingly let others place a noose around his neck.  He¡¯d been smart about it though, keeping his name hidden with guile and magic, despite some of the tempting offers he¡¯d received from some of the spirits and demons he¡¯d dealt with.

    But this immortal, she had just spoken it so easily, so casually, uncaring of the magical law that should have prevented her from being able to voice it!

    ¡°Wh-what do you want?¡±

    As soon as the words escaped him he cursed himself, furious that he¡¯d let her rattle him like that.  Still, it had been masterful, a subtle but profound display of power, one that had thrown him off when he needed to keep his wits about him.

    ¡°First, let us determine what it is that you want, then we can begin . . . bargaining.¡±

    Her tone was lighter now, almost friendly, but even so, it made Marcello feel as though he were a fat mouse that had suddenly been found by a well-fed cat.  The cat might well be in favour of ¡®playing¡¯ with him and then saving him for a meal later.

    ¡°I can conceive of a number of my possessions that I would be willing to part with, were you to repay me suitably.  The question remains as to which you wish for, and if you and your associate are willing to pay the price for them.¡±

    She made a simple gesture with her hand and suddenly the wind just died around him, and a globe of light appeared above them, illuminating the area as though it were day.

    ¡°Such choices should not be made in such an . . . uncomfortable environment.  I trust this shall make it a less onerous task?¡±

    It was another display of power, a simple one that was once again meant to show how far above him she was.  Holding back the wind, calling light, driving back the cold, all of these were within his abilities.  But to do them all at once, with only a single gesture?  That was far beyond his control or finesse.  As though to highlight his thoughts, a dot of light formed between them, a dot that then lengthened into a line which in turn rotated to become a portal.  Through it he could see a dimly lit chamber, though the light grew brighter as a lamp shone down on a plinth that stood just before the portal.  Upon it rested what looked to be a beautiful stone carving of a wing larger than a man.

    ¡°There are the petrified remains of the wing of Uriel, lost in battle more than three millennia ago.  Though the flesh and feathers have become stone there is still power in it, power I¡¯m certain your patron would be able to put to use.¡±

    Control, he had to maintain control!  He might not have devoted himself to learning about the hierarchy of the angels of Heaven, but he knew that Uriel was a peer to Michael, and he was one of the greatest champions of the High Heavens.  Wings were important to angels, and this, one that had been lost in battle but remained intact, was something the god he served would be interested in.

    ¡°Or perhaps this might be more to his liking.¡±

    Another portal opened, the view through it almost identical to the other.  But instead of the plinth being occupied by a stone wing, this one held several rolled-up scrolls, their papyrus yellowed by age and held closed by fraying twine.

    ¡°The only copies of the final prophecies of the first Oracle of Delphi, written by the hand of Apollo¡¯s eldest daughter.  They remain unread, and I am willing to swear an oath upon the waters of the river Styx on their authenticity.  Perhaps their knowledge of the future would be of interest to your master?¡±

    The scarred magic user felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the ancient scrolls, his fingers involuntarily twitching at the thought of the secrets they might contain.  The first Oracle of Delphi had been the start of a line of women to hold the post, but she had cemented the reputation of the seers of Delphi due to her prophecies having been so accurate and far-reaching.  The gods themselves had respected her, possibly even feared her grasp upon the future.  These copies of her final and unknown predictions . . . yes, his patron would indeed be interested in them.

    Another portal, another plinth, this time larger than the others as it held upon it a distorted and misshapen skull the size of a small car.  In appearance it was vaguely human-like but looked as though the skull had somehow been warped, one side dented in, while the other bulged out, one eye socket half closed, and the jaw crooked.

    ¡°This is the skull of the Jotnar king Utgarda-Loki.  Once he was one of the greatest sorcerers in Asgardian lore, so mighty that he deceived the likes of Loki and confounded the might of Thor.  He kept his kingdom independent of the Aesir for generations, but in time his hubris overcame his caution and he ran afoul of the thunder god and paid the final price.  Still, he was an immortal giant, and the potency of his magic was so great that it seeped into his very bones.  Another worthy prize to those that know how to use it.¡±

    Alright, that might not be as monumental as the first two, but it was still the sort of prize that would have had the sort of sums normally associated with national debts being thrown around if it were to be on sale in the right quarters.  Also, the knowledge that could be extracted from it, the spells that could fool even cunning deities like Loki, would be of worth to his patron.

    Another light, another open portal, another plinth.  Strangely, this one was shaped into a bowl and seemed to contain nothing but a few flattened shards of stone.  His confusion as to what he was looking at must have been plain to see because the immortal spoke once more.

    ¡°Though not much to look at those remains are not to be taken lightly.  Those shards are all that remain of the magical stone that the stone monkey who would one day be called Sun Wukong hatched from.  Empowered by the world and fertilized with every one of the elements the mere shell of that stone possesses remarkable properties.  Even one such as myself, one lacking ties to the Orient, can harness the force within them to empower rituals and spells to achieve effects that even Merlin would envy.  If your master is interested in a demigod . . . well, these shell fragments are tied to one of the few mortals that attained true divinity.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    That was true.  Even though Marcello was not as familiar with the legends of China as he was with western mythology the tale of the Monkey King was not one he was ignorant of.  What made it of particular interest to him and other mortal magic users was that despite all the power he amassed and the remarkable feats he achieved, Sun Wukong had begun his life every bit as mortal as any normal human being.  He had certainly been blessed with talent and genius from birth, but all the power and immortality that he had gained had been won through effort, trickery, or outright theft.  Among those who had greater insight into the world of the gods, it was well known that the ¡®Great Sage Equal to Heaven¡¯ was one of the most powerful known gods.  On a par with some of the heads of pantheons in terms of raw strength, and the match of any divine warrior in terms of skill.  Anything that could impart even a portion of that famous power was something that any collector of power would value.

    Her hand moved again, and all four portals shimmered out of being.

    ¡°Well, you have seen some of what I can offer, some of what I have gone to great pains to find and take possession of.  Unlike the gods, I was unable to incarnate into this world while the Paths were closed.  However, unlike them, I was able to gaze and whisper into the dreams of the easily influenced.  I have spent centuries preparing for when I would be able to return, carefully accumulating information and making use of what pawns I could amass.  My efforts have yielded much, but I am loath to give any of it up without proper recompense.

    ¡°Now, you have seen what I have to offer, do you wish to tell me which you seek?  Once you do, I can tell you the price I will exact for it.¡±

    The scarred man felt his thoughts begin to race, chasing about his head as he tried to see all the potential angles to the deals before him.  Any one of the artefacts offered would be enough to win both him and his ally back into their patron¡¯s good graces.  Yet some of them would do even more, earning his favour enough to secure their position more firmly.  They might even gain their patron¡¯s instruction, which could lead to greater power for him and his associate.

    Calm down!  The first mental step was to rank them, assemble an order of potency.  He¡¯d probably be doing a ham-fisted job of it, but he had to use what little he knew to get some sort of balance.  So . . . the giant¡¯s skull was probably the least of them in terms of pure value.  The next would be the Prophecies, though that was only because their value was rather skewed.  They offered priceless knowledge of both the past and the future, but nothing in the way of direct power.  That made them something of a gamble, since if the one that read them lacked the power to influence the events they described then all they would do would be to lock them into a fated future.

    Lastly was the petrified angel wing and the shards of the magical stone, and in all truth he was unsure of which outranked the other.  Either would be a prize for his patron, especially given the nature of the objective he and his associate had failed to secure.

    The demigod possessed ties to the Heavens, which was made clear by the fact that a saint had been returned to life to act as his bodyguard.  On the other hand that massive display of his Awakening flare had also shown that his power was more . . . mixed than the scarred man would have expected.  There had been other essences running through it, a cocktail of powers that combined into something that he didn¡¯t understand.

    So . . . should he ask her for the most potent?  Any one of the treasures presented to him was worth more than everything he possessed.  He could kill himself and have made contracts to sell his magically empowered bones and organs on the black market, along with everything he owned and it wouldn¡¯t come close to the value of the cheapest of them!

    He wanted the shards of the egg of stone, but he could only imagine the price she might seek to exact from him for those, so perhaps he might be best served by choosing the skull.  Yes, it might be the least of those offered, but with the blood, it might be enough.  The secrets of an immortal able to fool the gods . . . that was something of value, not to mention the power that would be inherent to the misshapen bone as well

    More doubts, more uncertainty.  What price could she ask of him for any of these prizes?  How much greater would the price be for the greatest among them?

    Wait!  There was something to that thought, something that made him pause and reconsider his situation.

    How much greater would the price be?  That wasn¡¯t the question he should be asking.  Rather he should wonder just WHAT the price could be!  It was such a simple concept that for a moment he felt his thoughts go blank in the face of it, and then they returned, at breakneck speed.

    When he really thought about it, there was no real way that he could afford any of the prizes before him.  Be it knowledge, power, resources or connections, nothing he or his ally had access to would be worth any of them.  That was why she was tempting him with such treasures.  When he¡¯d come to this meeting he¡¯d been hoping to secure something like the golem his associate had possessed.  Or maybe some old scrolls of hidden knowledge, or the broken remains of a once powerful treasure.  Instead, he was being baited with prizes that would make the mouth of even a god water.

    So why was she offering them to him?  What did she think he could offer that would be worth even the least of them?

    He thought he might have guessed the answer to the first one, but the second he could only speculate upon.  She was offering them to him because she wanted something, and she wanted to ensure that he didn¡¯t have the option of refusing her.  Perhaps it was something in his possession, or perhaps it was a task she wanted him to perform, but she wanted to ensure that there was no way for him to deny her.

    ¡°Are you not going to make your choice?  Perhaps these are not grand enough for you?¡±

    The immortal¡¯s amused and slightly mocking words brought him out of his thoughts.  He¡¯d been staring at the artefacts in silence for longer than was needed.  Still, it had been enough to let him come to some sort of resolution.

    ¡°And what is their price?¡±

    ¡°You have yet to choose, once you have selected then I shall tell you their cost.¡±

    ¡°Come now,¡± he said, hoping that his guess was correct. ¡°No matter which I take, the price shall be the same.  So, tell me, what price must I pay for my pick?¡±

    There was a pause and endless collection of seconds where the world stood still as she looked at him and he wondered if he had overplayed his notion.  Then, her face broke into a small razor-edged smile.

    ¡°Good.  I am glad to see that I was not incorrect in my assessment of you.  Keep that sharp mind, it shall hopefully be of some use in the future.¡±

    His gamble had paid off, now to find out just what she wanted.

    ¡°It is as you surmise, the price is the same for any of them, simply choose the one you want, and pay for it.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s the price?¡±

    There was a pause, and in that moment the scarred magic user felt his thoughts race, various possibilities, each more absurd than the last, surfacing in his mind, only to be discarded.

    ¡°I intend to steal something, and I want your aid in transporting it afterwards.¡±

    That . . . that was it?  What could she possibly be planning to steal that would be worth what she was giving up?  And why would she need him?  He knew her power, her mastery over magic, for her, it was a simple matter to traverse entire continents in a mere step.  If she sought to steal something then it would require the power of a god to stop her, and more skill than most deities could muster, so why . . .

    A terrible suspicion began to grow in his thoughts, one he wasn¡¯t pleased to face, but one that made too much sense to ignore.

    ¡°You can¡¯t take it yourself, can you?  Others will be looking for it, looking for you . . . so you need someone else to transport it . . . I will not betray my patron.  You must know this.¡±

    He wanted to make that clear, to leave no doubt as to where his loyalties were rooted, even if that root was held by fear.

    ¡°Rest assured, I have no desire to cross the one you serve, that would be entirely more trouble than it would be worth.  No, you can let them know of this arrangement if you wish.  I have little reason to hide it from them.  However, your participation will be . . . assured, regardless of their feelings on the matter.  If you renege upon our pact then I have other resources that shall let me complete my objective, but they shall cost me dearly.  Be assured that if I am forced to take that route then I shall be sure to make you pay for breaking our agreement, and it will be a long time before our balance is met.¡±

    Well, that was about as subtle as a sword held to your throat, though it still didn¡¯t answer his question.  Whatever she wanted him for, it was something she could use another for, but doing so wasn¡¯t cheap.  Could the price of doing so be even greater than the prizes she was offering him?

    It didn¡¯t make sense!  The Scrolls could be exchanged for potent favours, the skull, the feathers, the shards, all of them could be used as sacrifices or reagents to invoke insanely powerful spells!  How could anything he could offer possibly be on par with them?!

    More and more he was becoming convinced that something was going on here that he couldn¡¯t see, something that was hiding behind the curtain.  A part of him just wanted to abandon this deal, to simply call it all off and retreat to his home, to take his chances with his patron¡¯s displeasure!  But . . .

    Sulphurous oaths boiled at the back of his mind as he began to realize that he didn¡¯t have nearly as much of a choice as he would have wanted.  Move forward, that was his only choice!  He didn¡¯t like it, but he didn¡¯t see any other options that offered a better path.  Besides . . . there was at least some hope.  The immortal hadn¡¯t been lying when she said that she wouldn¡¯t want to cross his patron, that was something he knew to be true.  So, if she was going to screw him over, there were hopefully limits on how far she could push things.  It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was at least some sort of comfort.

    Taking in a deep breath he reached to where one of the portals had been.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the shards then.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I see you choose to take the mightiest that I offer.¡±

    Her voice was amused as she raised an arm to reopen the portal.  Beyond it was the same plinth of stone, the shards still resting upon it.  There was no mistaking what they were, the power they radiated could have been felt by any mortal off the street.  To him, one skilled in mystic divination and discovery, they fairly roared of trapped power waiting to be used.

    ¡°If they¡¯re all of the same price then I shall take the best for what I am paying!¡±

    He replied, scooping the shards into a soft bag of velvet that he¡¯d brought in anticipation of having to carry away some fragile prize.  In this case, it was largely unneeded though, the shards, though thin as paper, might as well have been inch-thick plates of armour, the power within them overcoming their physical frailty.

    ¡°So, you shall undertake my little errand?¡± It was a statement, even though it might have been spoken as a question, and it left him with little doubt as to the answer she expected.

    ¡°Yes.  I shall perform the agreed-upon service.  This . . . loot of yours, I¡¯ll take it as you wish, and do my best to see it delivered.  Now when do you wa-¡±

    His question was cut off as her hand suddenly darted out, swift as a striking snake, and seized his left wrist.

    ¡°I should warn you, this is going to be painful.¡±

    He barely had time to register her words before it was as though his entire arm lit up with fire from the inside!  His mouth opened to scream, but her other hand came across, clamping down on his face and silencing him before he could even draw in breath.  He struggled, thrashed as he tried to break free, but despite her slim form, her limbs might as well have been carved from iron for all the good it did him.  All he could do was scream into her palm as it felt as though his bones were burning within his flesh.

    ¡°No, no, no!  Quiet now.  It shall be over soon, do not disgrace yourself with such an unbecoming display of weakness.¡±

    The words flowed over him, but they were hard to grasp, barely making it through the roaring of agony in his ears.  After what seemed like an eternity the pain began to fade, and the magic user came back to himself.  Seeing he was regaining his composure the immortal released him, letting him stumble back a few steps, cradling his arm to his chest.

    ¡°Wha . . . what . . . wh-why?¡±

    ¡°Because I am no fool, Marcello,¡± In contrast to her almost gentle tone while torturing him, her voice now was sharp and hard. ¡°Honour has little hold over you, save for that which pride allows.  Fear may motivate you to keep faith with me regarding this agreement, but I require more assurance than such a brittle emotion can provide.  After all, the prize you shall be carrying for me shall be tempting indeed.  You could gain such favour by betraying me.  This little gift shall ensure you do not think of straying from our bargain.  Think of it as a reminder, an aid, and a token of motivation.¡±

    Shocked as he was the scarred man managed to lift his left arm, staring at the limb in a combination of terror and amazement.  On his arm there was now a long sinuous tattoo of a black vine, one that snaked its way between the scars that marred his flesh as though it had grown about them.  Every leaf, stem, and shoot was picked out in crisp-edged detail, unnaturally so.

    ¡°What is this?!¡±

    He very carefully did not shout, he did not demand, he did not even raise his voice, even though he really, really wanted to.  He needed information, but he could not afford to antagonize her further.

    ¡°In terms that you would understand, let us say that it as an attached secondary mana pool for your use.  Over the next few days, it will deplete your normal rate of magical regeneration, but do not fear.  Once it has fully sated itself it shall recharge its own mana without having to draw upon yours.  Afterwards, your own regeneration will return to normal.¡±

    For a moment he just gaped at her as he tried to process what she had just said.  A . . . a second mana pool?  To magic users, their internal supplies of magic and mana were everything.  Without either the use of magic became next to impossible.  As such, a great deal of a magical education was devoted to getting as much out of their reserves as they could.  Mages worked to expand them, deepen them, refine the energy they held to make them more efficient or try to increase the rate at which those reserves were regenerated.  All of it working towards the single goal of letting the magic user do more.  This . . . this was one of the Holy Grails for magic users!

    ¡°Of course, that is not all my gift grants you,¡± She continued, confirming Marcello¡¯s thoughts. ¡°I have tied it to a geass, one forged upon our agreement.  Should you play me falsely, perhaps thinking to take my prize for yourself . . . well, the consequences will be unpleasant, of that be assured.  You may survive it, but even if you do, your magic shall be forever burnt from your body.¡±

    Ah, that made more sense.  He hated it, but it made sense.  A geass was a sort of enchantment that could take many forms, sometimes it could be used to compel obedience, and sometimes it could be used as a curse.  But most often, as was the case here, it was used to empower a promise or agreement.  Such empowerment normally meant that there would be severe consequences to breaking the agreement.

    Trying to calm himself the scarred man focused on the thought that he¡¯d never planned to break the deal anyway.  Yes, this had been painful to get, but the benefits might outweigh the drawbacks, at least in the long term anyway.

    ¡°The situation is simple, Marcello.  Complete our agreement, and I shall allow you to keep the extra mana pool, as well as the other benefits that come with the pact.  Fail, or betray me, and I shall burn the magic from your body, and the thoughts from your mind.  It is simple, would you not agree?¡±

    Straightening, though still feeling a slight tremor in his limbs, the magic user simply nodded.  He could feel some dull anger smouldering inside him, but he ignored it, reminding himself that such an emotion was useless in the face of one such as this immortal.  In a few years, after he¡¯d built up his power and resources, then maybe, just maybe, he could consider such a thing.  Until then he might as well rail at the sky for rain and snow.

    ¡°Let me know when I need to be ready.  Having some time to prepare would be . . . advantageous.¡±

    His tone was flat, almost dead, but it was the best he could manage.  Again, that flicker of amusement passed over her face before she nodded in return.

    ¡°Of course, it is to my benefit if you can provide your best effort.¡±

    He said nothing more.  Instead, he simply turned and walked away.  From behind him he could hear that sound once more, something akin to the flutter of dozens of soft wings, and knew that if he were to turn then he would not see her anymore.  Of course, simply because he could not see her it didn¡¯t mean that she was no longer there, or that she was not observing him.

    So, he did not turn.  Instead, he just walked on, making his way to where a rented vehicle awaited him.  It would be a long drive to the spot where he could arrange a gateway to his ally¡¯s castle, but it was better than the ruinous cost of trying to open the portal here.

    From the bag, he could feel the power radiating from the shards, like warmth leaking from contained embers.

    It seemed like a good deal, but had it really been?  Had he pulled his neck from the noose only to end up laying it on the chopping block?  He was uncertain, and it wasn¡¯t something he liked, but what other choice had he had?

    The question gnawed at him as he began to drive.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    She watched him leave, the turmoil within him easily discernible to her practised eye.  She felt an odd combination of both amusement and pity at his state.

    Ah, the gods, such challenging obstacles, and yet so entertaining!

    She had to acknowledge the wisdom and foresight of the deity that had gained Marcello¡¯s allegiance.  His sight had been keen indeed to discern a jewel covered in dust from the pebbles that surrounded it.  He had also been wise to secure the mortal as soon as possible.  Though the scarred mage might not be the most powerful of practitioners, he was skilled and precise, and eager to learn, valuable traits in a servant one wished to raise to power.

    Of course, there was also that little hidden detail, that truth about Marcello that he was himself almost certainly completely unaware of.  His talent was valuable, but it was his bloodline that was of greatest note.  To be sure, it was not of divine origin, so he would never be a demigod, but it could be traced back to one of the many mortals that once wielded power enough for even the divine to respect them.  That bloodline might be diluted now, but the gifts that ancient mage had sealed into their line remained.  The gifts were buried deep, but they were there, and they could be useful if brought to the surface.

    The immortal deeply respected those old mages who had reached the level of power needed to stand tall in the face of the likes of the Fay courts, or the Vampire nobility.  A respect that had survived her centuries of exile upon the outer planes of the world.  How could she not?  Had not she once been such a mortal, one gifted with talent and ambition enough to drive her to the heights of mortal power?  Had she not been one of them, until the day that she had overcome her mortality and become something more?  Yes, she knew how far a mortal could rise, if they had the right means.

    Marcello . . . he had potential, but she had not been lying when she told him that she didn¡¯t think him worth the trouble of facing his master in order to pry him away.  Gods like that one, old gods with millennia of history behind them, could be difficult to deal with.  Even if they lacked power they were old enough to have learnt secrets that could overcome such a disadvantage, and their relative weakness could lead them to be vicious in a way that could surprise the unwary.  And Marcello¡¯s patron was far from weak among his kind.

    Regardless, she would not be placing herself against that one, not when it was a simpler matter to purchase a single service and then leverage it to the best advantage that would serve her.

    Another smile touched the immortal''s face as she watched the mortal pass from the sight of her eyes.  Her mark was upon him now, so there was little point in continuing to monitor him, instead, she could turn her mind to more weighty matters.

    Matters such as her future plans.

    Reaching out with her magic she connected to the channels of mana that flowed through the world, letting her physical form dissolve into magic, magic held together and given cohesion and power by her will.  Through the stream of raw mana, she swam, a fish in a rushing river, moving at speeds that would have made lightning jealous.  Then she emerged, magic returning to flesh in a metamorphosis that spoke of her mastery.  The transformation was seamless, the product of centuries of practice and refinement, letting her shift into physical form in mid-step as she strode towards the object of her attention.

    The room she was in was small, but she had little need for grand scale, not for this.  As long as she had enough room to work, to improve her creation, then she could not care less about the rest of it.  These four walls, a single small slit in the stone to let in air, and the light from the lantern that was suspended from the ceiling, that was enough for her needs.

    Moving to the centre of the small room she came to a stop overlooking the simple block of stone that sat as the focus of the modest chamber.  The block was large, easily seven feet long, three feet wide, and three feet tall, made from a shiny grey stone.  Stone that seemed to almost shimmer in the lantern¡¯s flickering light.  Had a mage seen the stone, they might well have choked on their own drool as they salivated over the potential uses for such a stone.  It was so soaked in mana that it was more akin to a giant magical battery than, as it was, to a crude altar.  However, for all its remarkable properties it was not the stone that held the immortal¡¯s attention, rather it was the figure lying prone upon it.

    Almost the entirety of it was covered in bandages, making it look like a strange parody of an Egyptian mummy. The coverings did little to hide the size or musculature of the body beneath them.  The figure was large, powerfully built, and tall.  Even lying prone upon the block of stone there was a sense of barely contained power radiating from the covered figure.

    An almost maternal smile touched the immortal¡¯s lips as she stepped closer, but there was nothing motherly about the way her fingertips traced the broad chest, from the navel, all the way to the face.  Then, with a simple flick of her fingers, the bandages covering the face came undone, and she stared down at the revealed features.

    Had anyone else been there they would have recoiled in shock at what was uncovered because the face now being illuminated by the lantern¡¯s flickering light was one of the most famous in the world.  That face had appeared on television screens across the world, in newspapers, in magazines, even in some comic books and on cereal boxes.  Pictures of it were in files in such places as the Pentagon and the Kremlin.  Files were read by people of power and position as they made decisions that decided the course of nations and the fates of lives.

    ¡°Ahhhh.  Arthur, if only it were this simple.¡±

    The face before her was indeed that of the famed King of England, but though the features were perfect, the skin was oddly pale, and the few wisps of hair that could be seen were brittle and dull.  He also did not seem to be breathing, and his lips had the pallor of death upon them, even though the skin was warm beneath her fingers.

    She caressed the face for a moment, then folded the cloth strips back into place, a satisfied smile on her face as she did so.  Her work was proceeding well, the altar feeding mana into her construct going every bit as smoothly as she could have hoped for.  It was not yet ready, but that would come in time, time enough for Marcello to grow used to his gift.  Time enough for him to accept it so that when she called in her favour he would be that much more receptive to her wishes.

    There were still pieces to be placed, resources to procure, and leverages to be gained, but even so, her plans were coming together smoothly, so it should not be long until she was ready.

    Of course, she was not so foolish as to believe that everything would go in her favour.  That was a lesson she had learnt well in her mortal life.  Chaos was as natural a part of the world, as blue was a part of the sky.  Plans would fail, and expectations would be overturned.  Even if she set everything up perfectly something would go wrong for her, something would break, something would fail.

    Ultimately it all came down to backup plans, setting events in motion so that even if her first plan failed it would simply serve to advance her second.  And if her second failed, it would then fall to her third which would be advanced by that collapse.  And then to a fourth, and a fifth.  Plans beneath plans beneath plans, almost to the point of absurdity.

    Mortal minds were flexible, but that level of complexity . . . it was almost beyond them.  Even the most skilled mortal intellect could only manage information to a certain level before the coherency of so many lines of thought began to cross and clash.  With outside aid, it became more possible, but the management of so many interweaving plans was the work of an organized collective, not the individual, no matter how talented.

    Of course, she was no mere mortal, if she had been then she would have gone insane centuries ago.  The ascension from a mere magic user to an immortal did not serve to massively augment such aspects as cunning and intelligence, such had to be earned in mortal life.  Instead, the mind was altered by the transformation in such a way as to allow it to endure and thrive through a life that could last for millennia.  Her mind had become able to think in a different way, deeper, broader.  It wasn¡¯t that she had grown in brilliance, merely that she was able to . . . encompass more.

    It was a thought that had always amused her in the past, the myth that attaining immortality granted brilliance and power beyond measure.  The foolish and desperate gazed upon those who had reached such lofty heights and dreamed that if they could do likewise then equal glory would be theirs.  Yet all the time they did not understand that it was because of them possessing such power and brilliance in the first place that they had become immortals.

    Yes, the multi-layered plans that she had created were expensive in many ways.  If an initial plan went too well then the resources invested in the contingencies would go to waste.  But it was a small price to pay to achieve her ends.  What she wanted . . . it went beyond the hollow values of wealth, power and favours.

    Stepping away from the figure with a final sigh she turned, then she was gone, having disappeared between one instant and the next.  In her absence, the small chamber was silent once more, as the altar continued to feed power into the form resting upon it.  It would remain that way for some time yet, but eventually, a sound would break that silence.

    The sound of the body taking its first breath.

 Chapter 3: And the World Marches On: Part One

    Chapter 3: And the World Marches On

    Joseph bit back an oath as he heard the distinctive sound of his rubbish bin being overturned just as he was about to open the front door to his house.

    It was the end of a long day, and this was the fourth time in less than a week that this had happened.  It might be the height of summer, and food was plentiful almost across the board, but still, the damned foxes insisted on knocking his bins over so they could get at the remains of his meats, it was like the world was laughing at him!

    And yet, he supposed it was a small price to pay for having a house right at the edge of town and that facing out onto the Monts d¡¯Ardeche National Park.  The view was beautiful, an uninterrupted vista devoid of any signs of human construction, and his home was great.  It was a large building, just shy of being a small mansion, with plenty of rooms, a terrace overlooking a large garden, and even a swimming pool.

    He''d bought the house years ago, back when he¡¯d received his first big break.  Back then he¡¯d been a fresh-faced newly-wed, convinced that he¡¯d found the love of his life and that the act of getting the house was simply the first step on his path to a long and fulfilling life of happiness and family.  Now, twenty years, a cheating wife, and a vicious divorce later, he could only look back on his past self and snort at his naivety.  All those promises, all that potential, it had all been a lie!

    Still, he could take some satisfaction in having got the better deal in the divorce.  After all, he¡¯d got the house, whilst his ex ended up with full custody of the kids.

    Another crash of metal on tiles told him that another of his bins had been pushed over.  Right now, it was late, the sun was down and the moon was mostly hidden by clouds, leaving the area pretty dark.  Out here, away from most of the lights of urban development, the darkness was deeper, more pervasive, and so Joseph had set up a few lights he use.  Sure, it meant that some nights the stargazing could be spectacular, but there were times like this when it was less than convenient.

    For a moment he was tempted to just leave it, to deal with it tomorrow once he could get a good look at things, but the sound of a third bin being knocked over was the last straw.

    Any other time it wouldn¡¯t have been so bad.  Since he now lived alone he didn¡¯t have that much trash to worry about, so normally the big bins were mostly empty.  Unfortunately, yesterday he¡¯d played host to a big barbecue for a gathering of friends and friends of friends, a large event where there had been much food in the offing.  Consequently, all four of his large metal bins had been filled with bags of leftover scraps, bones, greasy disposable plates and cutlery, all things that would draw in scavengers looking for an easy meal.  He¡¯d hoped that since it was the season of plenty he wouldn¡¯t need to worry so much, but it looked like he¡¯d been wrong.

    Sighing he decided that he really didn¡¯t want to have to deal with a patio strewn with scattered refuse first thing in the morning.  He didn¡¯t want to have to deal with this now, not when he was finally feeling the drinks he¡¯d had earlier starting to take their toll, but better now than later.

    He headed back to the garage to dig out his large flashlight, then he was making his way around his house, tugging along one of those wheeled lifting devices to move the bins.  He was hoping that whatever scavengers he¡¯d have to deal with hadn¡¯t made too much of a mess. Then he turned the corner and the large patio where the bins had been standing was in his line of sight, only they weren¡¯t there.  His flashlight was producing a weak beam of light, one that only seemed to show more darkness.

    However, as he got closer, he realised that what he had thought had been darkness had been black flesh covered in bristles, the bulk large enough to cover his view of his patio from where he stood.  He could not make out details clearly, but that was okay.  The light being so dim was a saving grace, since whatever the huge mass of flesh was it hadn¡¯t noticed him yet.

    It wasn¡¯t the largest creature Joseph had ever seen, but it wasn¡¯t losing by much.  When it moved, it was as though the wall in a room was moving, huge muscles rippling under the dark and bristled flesh.

    For a moment he was still as a statue, the absolute certainty that this being was dangerous freezing him in place.

    The hand that held the flashlight shook, causing the weak beam to play across the back of whatever this thing was.  It didn¡¯t stay in any one spot for very long, but it showed enough for Joseph¡¯s fear-addled mind to start to put them together into an incomplete image.

    Big, that was the first thing that he was certain of.  Whatever it was, this creature was big, easily the size of one of those moving vans.  Muscles bulged upon it, and a hide of bristles that were closer to spines covered its skin, but that was all he could work out.  He could hear a snorting noise and the rattle of metal, so he guessed it was going through his rubbish.

    It was the sound of rattling metal that galvanized him into motion.  He just acted without thinking and took a step back.  A step that made the gravel crunch beneath his feet.

    It wasn¡¯t loud, but with adrenaline singing through his veins and heightening his senses, it it sounded as loud as a gunshot to Joseph!

    Still, it couldn¡¯t reallyt have been that loud, because rather than spinning about and brutally savaging Joseph to death, the hulking mass of muscle and flesh simply continued to snort at the garbage.

    Okay, okay, he could handle this, he could handle this.  He kept repeating those words in his mind as though if he did so they would somehow come true.  He felt his panicked thoughts start to settle into some sort of cohesion!  Alright, the . . . thing hadn¡¯t noticed him yet, so if he backed away carefully and quietly then he could get around the house!  As soon as he was able to put the entire building between him and that hulking form he could . . . well, he wasn¡¯t too sure what he was going to do.  Calling the cops sounded good, , but getting into his car and driving away sounded better.  Maybe he¡¯d make that call after having gotten some more distance between himself and this monster!  Yeah, that sounded like a good idea!  He¡¯d just have to-

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    CLICK!

    He only had a split second to realize that his hands, which had been grasping the flashlight with a death grip, had somehow twisted something back into place before the wan and pale light of the torch¡¯s bulb suddenly flared to full brightness.  The snorting and snuffling that he¡¯d heard before was replaced by a startled squeal, and the huge form before him spun about with shocking speed as it was finally revealed to him.

    A boar, it was a huge wild boar!

    No, Joseph had seen boars in the past, he¡¯d even shot some that had broken into his garden in the past.  Boars were wild creatures, but they weren¡¯t monsters, they weren¡¯t like this thing!  The creature before him wasn¡¯t just a boar of freakish size, it was . . . more?  Less?  It was a distorted and warped version of the animal that he knew.  It was too big, too muscled, its legs too thick, its trotters too wide, the claws too long and pointed in a way no boars should ever be!  Its face was marred by tusks so massive that they were almost comical, but those same tusks gleamed in the light, save where a dark red substance stained them.  Even worse, horns grew from its head in a twisted imitation of a bull, horns that were likewise stained!

    All of this Joseph saw in a split second as the light flared and illuminated the monster before him.

    Then he was running, dropping the flashlight and throwing himself around the corner of his home, breaking line of sight with the creature!  Behind him there was a sound that could have been a squeal, only it was too loud, too deep, and too enraged, and it was followed by the sound of heavy footfalls and crunching gravel drawing closer!

    He didn¡¯t think, he just reacted.  His panic room!  That was the first thought to enter his mind as he bolted for his front door.  He¡¯d had it installed a few years back as a sort of luxury item, a treat to himself to acknowledge just how well he was doing.  The small concrete bunker was on the bottom floor, and not too far from the front door.  He¡¯d watched as it was built, so he knew how thick the concrete walls were, how big the steel bars that reinforced it were!  That thing might be a monster, but he was sure that it wouldn¡¯t be able to break through.

    God, it was a monster, wasn¡¯t it?!

    The door was mercifully unlocked.  It was a bad habit of his, but one that he was now profoundly grateful for.  The door flew open as he slammed into it, and Joseph crashed through, almost tripping in his haste.  Behind him there was a rush of wind as something passed by only a few feet from the door, then a loud crash, then the sound of a car alarm which was cut off with almost shocking finality a second later.  At the back of his mind, he realized his car must have been hit by the thing, but that was unimportant.  Instead, he was more focused on trying to get away, get to the panic room.  He tried to turn to slam to the door shut, but his legs tangled up beneath him and he toppled over.

    He didn¡¯t go down completely, but he had fallen to all fours as the motion of a loose carpet beneath him helped him lose control!  Behind him he heard a sound of tortured metal shrieking, a sound contested by another squealing roar, one that made no secret of the rage behind it, then a thunderous crash and the sound of splintering wood.  Almost weeping with a combination of frustration and fear Joseph scrambled forward, his movements a mad mesh of him trying to regain his feet and him trying to dash down the hall.  His panic was too much though, and one foot came down wrong, twisting to the side with a grating of bones as he went down, sending pain shooting up his leg and a cry from between his lips.

    Damn it!  Damn it!!  He couldn¡¯t let this stop him!  Not now, not here!  Fear lent him strength, and adrenaline let him ignore his pain in a way that would normally have been impossible.  His ankle throbbed with pain, but he continued to crawl on, no more effort being made to get to his feet.  All he needed was to get down this hallway, then turn right down the short corridor and the panic room was there at the end.  Once there he¡¯d be safe, able to use the med kit to take some painkiller, use the landline phone to call for help!  All he had to do was get to it and he¡¯d-

    -Bllnnk!-

    The sound was small, but oh so familiar.  He¡¯d heard it practically every day for the last three years since he¡¯d had the upgraded system installed.  He knew what was coming, and he could do nothing to stop it.

    Light dazzled his eyes as the motion-sensor-linked light switch tripped and the series of small crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling illuminated the entrance and the long welcome hallway.  To his eyes, eyes that had been adjusted to the darkness outside, it was almost blinding, but was only a secondary concern as his frantic mind made another and much more worrying connection.  Rolling onto his back he just had time to stare down the hall and out of his front door.

    The front door that was still wide open.

    The wide-open front door through which the light of the chandeliers was now pouring out, bright enough to light up the night outside.

    The wide-open front door through which he could now see the massive form of the . . . the thing turning to glare at this new source of light!

    Joseph only had time for a single short shriek of terror before the huge form surged towards him, the massive body slamming into the doorframe and the walls surrounding it with a force more akin to a runaway truck than to a living being.  Wood splintered, plaster shattered, and even the concrete in the walls and frames buckled under the assault.  Before his terror-widened eyes the ceiling cracked and bits of dust and debris rained down as the boar-thing tried to force itself through the doorway that was too small for it.

    But . . . but it was holding!  Steel and concrete were holding just enough that the straining monster wasn¡¯t able to force its way in!

    Hope surged through him, managing to bury his terror for the time being.  He had a chance!  He could live!  All he had to do was make it to the panic room and-

    Joseph never saw the wooden beam that came down and claimed his life as it smashed his skull.  He never saw his house buckle and collapse.  He never saw how the panic room was the only thing to survive, though it was buried beneath the debris as his home came down upon it.  he never saw any of it, but he did hear one thing before death claimed him.

    The thunderous snap as both concrete and metal gave way beneath the monster¡¯s powerful muscles, its weight and force too great to be denied.  It broke, then the wall broke, and then the support beams behind it broke.

    His house broke.  Broke, and came crashing down upon him.

    The next morning, when one of the neighbours saw the state of the building and called the authorities, all that could be found of the homeowner was an arm trapped beneath a heavy wooden beam.  Of the rest of him . . . well, it wasn¡¯t as though there was no sign.  There was a long trail of blood leading out into the woods.

    One neighbour immediately began to see to selling his home and moving back into a city, another decided that she¡¯d feel more secure once she owned the sort of weapons normally reserved to kill enraged elephants.  Still another asked a priestess of Gaea, a young woman who had only arrived in the area recently, but who had made an impression with the abilities she had demonstrated, to come and bless her house so that it might be protected.  So many reactions, and so many different people, but they all had one thing in common.

    Their view of the forest was no longer as carefree as it had once been.

 Chapter 3: And the World Marches On: Part Two

    ¡°On your feet, Adam!¡± Hadriel¡¯s voice cracked like a whip, no mercy or give in it. ¡°Do you think that your foes will grant you a moment of respite?  Unless you have the good fortune to face nothing but overconfident fools you will be dead if this ever takes place in a true battle!¡±

    A low groan made its way out of my throat as I lifted my face from the grass and dirt and tried to roll over.  Tried and failed. Another groan escaped me as I sagged back down onto the soil beneath me.  I wanted to get up, there was no doubt of that, but my limbs simply refused to cooperate.  I could feel the dirt rubbing into my still shirtless chest.  The only thing I was wearing over some jeans was a small plate of leather and brass that Joan had made, one held over my navel by several lengths of bandages wrapped around my middle to keep it in place.

    When I¡¯d told Joan and Hadriel about the weak point in my navel they had been somewhat concerned, but also pleased.  That had confused me for a bit, after all, how can a weakness be a good thing?  But then they¡¯d explain their reasoning.

    An Achilles Heel only existed when there was protection for it to counterbalance, meaning that it was all but certain that I was going to develop some sort of invulnerability.  It was likely going to take a while, as my body absorbed and adapted to the mana now coursing through it, but it would come.

    Until then my bellybutton was something of a risk, but not terribly so.  Yes, I could be killed by being pierced there, but given that I¡¯d be killed by such a blow even if the weakness wasn¡¯t there, that wasn¡¯t too much of an issue.

    There had been a couple of very uncomfortable pokes at it while they tried to work out just how sensitive it was. But, after a slight jab with a blunt stick left me on my knees and gasping for breath, they¡¯d shown mercy and decided it should be left alone.

    Still, that damned sensitivity needed to be addressed.

    That was what had led to the improvised armour I was now wearing.  It might not stand up to any sort of serious attack, but it would hopefully be enough to keep me safe in my sparring matches.  Of course, it made me think of that delinquent stereotype that appeared in Japanese manga, the ones where the punk was shirtless and had bandages wrapped around their middles.  All I needed was a white coat and a wooden sword to complete the look.

    I tried to rise again, but my muscles seemed to have all the strength of lengths of cooked spaghetti.  If I¡¯d been able to roll over into a better position I might have been able to push myself up, but as things stood that wasn¡¯t really an option.

    It was the wings, they were the problem.

    When I¡¯d first seen them I¡¯d been . . . elated?  Seeing them was kind of a badge of honour, proof I had the blood of an angel.  I¡¯d also felt nervous, since they, more than anything else, declared to the world that I was no longer an ordinary person.  I¡¯d also felt, if I was being honest, some unease at these new and alien appendages on my back.

    I knew that one day they would be powerful assets, extra limbs able to help me in a fight as both shields and swords, but the fact was that at the moment they were getting annoying!

    It wasn¡¯t just that they were still throwing my balance off, that I was slowly learning to compensate for.  It was how they added a sudden increase to my body area that I kept forgetting about at the instinctual level.  Their natural position was half unfolded.  And their air resistance whenever I turned only served to slow me down even more.  If they were fully extended it was even worse, but even when they were folded it didn¡¯t help much, leaving me feeling as though I had large portable billboards strapped to my back.

    On top of all that both Hadriel and Joan regarded my new feathered limbs as completely acceptable targets to go after.  That was making my sparing matches much more difficult.  I was used to defending my body, or at least the body I was familiar with.  That time training with Joan had paid off.

    Those sessions had managed to pound in some fighting instincts.  But those instincts had not included the wings I now had.  I was dodging or blocking attacks, only for my opponent to suddenly shift target and hit one of my wings.  Sure, they were tough, but whoever I was sparing with would immediately call it a major hit.  At first, I¡¯d protested, asking why a blow on my wings would count as a major wound, if not a finishing one, but it was soon explained to me.

    The thing was that my wings contained many of the spiritual structures that were key to me using magic at a higher level.  Had I been a ¡®regular¡¯ demigod then these structures would have been spread out throughout my body.  But because of my angelic heritage, it was almost certain that the majority were housed in my wings.  That meant that any magic I was using, be it as simple as flying, or something grander and more complex later, would be disrupted by a sufficiently strong blow to them.

    ¡°Do not simply lie there!  Regain your feet, and prepare your weapon.  Do you think that you shall survive with such pitiful skills?  Your foes shall show you no pity, of that you can be certain!¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s words had no compassion in them, only authority, contempt, and a twisted sort of encouragement.  It was absurd, her tone was that of a drill sergeant, but it clashed so much with her appearance.  I mean, come on!  She was supermodel-hot and dressed in what amounted to a bikini.  How was I meant to connect that to the person yelling at me from the side of the fight?

    My thoughts slid back into some semblance of order as I lifted myself to my hands and knees, and then scrambled up to my feet.  I tried to turn in place, but my wings spread once more, catching the air and throwing me off my balance, again!

    Catching myself and taking a deep breath, I did my best to calm down.  I wasn¡¯t going to let this get to me, I repeated it again and again in my head.  A month ago I was just another guy being swept along by the changes washing over the world. A week ago I didn¡¯t even know if I¡¯d get any powers.  A couple of days ago it looked like I might not even be able to get my magic to work.  Now, here I was, with both my divine blood Awakened and my magic sparked into life.  I wasn¡¯t going to lose my temper because things were hard!  I was not a child, I was a bloody adult, damn it!

    ¡°I think that is enough for now, honoured Hadriel.  I believe we have a better understanding of how we should progress in the training of Adam.¡±

    Ah, at that moment I really would have thought that it was Joan who was the angel, given how much her simple words meant salvation for me.  Never mind that she¡¯d been the one to knock me down in the first place, that had already been forgotten and forgiven, if it meant I finally got a break

    ¡°We do?¡±

    I asked the question as I tried to pat some of the dirt off my clothes.  Joan took the question in her stride, smiling back at me as she nodded.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± She replied. ¡°There are several aspects that we need to work upon, but it is clear that the most urgent one is to aid you in mastering your ability to fly and levitate.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    That was unexpected.  I¡¯d expected to be working on using my magic as a weapon, or getting accustomed to fighting with my new wings.  Just flying though?  I supposed it worked if I wanted to get away from a threat, so it was important, but it wasn¡¯t the first thing I would have expected them to focus on.

    And, once again, Joan must have read my expression.  I think that by this point it should be clear that I was never going to be a particularly good poker player.

    ¡°I know it might not be immediately apparent, but to beings of a certain level of power, especially those with wings, or other body parts that increase their size, the power to control their movements by means more potent than simple muscle strength grows more important.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then turned to Hadriel.

    ¡°Perhaps a demonstration would be more instructive than simple words.  Honoured Hadriel, would you consent to a short sparing match, simply to show Adam how the mastery of flight will be intrinsic to his future growth?¡±

    The angel paused for a moment.

    ¡°Very well, Lady Joan.  I shall be pleased to see how your skills fare upon the mortal plane.¡±

    There was a flash of light, and then she was holding two huge swords, and when I call them ¡®huge¡¯ I mean it.  Seriously, in the hands of any sort of mortal weapon user, even one of those things would be utterly impractical unless their wielder was something like seven feet tall and muscled like the Incredible Hulk.  They simply were too big and heavy to be used by normal people.

    Hadriel was currently wielding them as though they were made of Styrofoam rather than metal, though.  So it was clear that her hands were anything but normal!

    There was a burst of feathers to my side, followed by a flash of yellow, and I turned to see that Joan had assumed her angelic form.  Her armour had shifted slightly on her back to accommodate her new wings, and I felt a small pang of jealousy.  A shirt that did the same for me would have been nice.

    ¡°Very well, are you watching, Adam?¡±

    Joan now stood with her sword drawn and held in a two-handed grip.  Like Hadriel, she was floating a few inches off the ground as she faced her opponent.  The differences between the two of them was striking as they faced each other.  Both of them were extraordinary, but it was like comparing a gemstone to a rose, totally different.

    Joan was clad in her white armour with her blue-dyed leathers underneath.  I knew that she wasn¡¯t trying to be alluring or even attractive, but somehow she managed it even with her completely serious posture and expression.  The wings and halo she now possessed gave her a more . . . divine aspect to her appearance, beautiful but also somehow out of reach.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    By contrast, Hadriel gave a completely different sort of vibe.  Her minimalist clothing, jewellery, metal halo and coppery hair gave her a wilder appearance, one accentuated by her crimson wing and the huge sword held in each of her hands.  The combination had me thinking about the classic ¡®chainmail bikini warrior woman¡¯ in fantasy comics.

    Perhaps comparing them to gemstones and roses wasn¡¯t the most accurate metaphor.  Calling them a steel-edged dove and a bloodstained hawk might be a bit closer to the truth if I was feeling poetic.  Surprisingly, Joan looked the more traditionally angelic of the two of them, Hadriel seeming more like some sort of fantasy of one.

    Then they moved, and I no longer had time to think such inane thoughts.

    It was the red-winged angel that took the initiative.  Her form darted forward and her right sword cut out, swiftly followed by her left one.  Joan had no trouble meeting the first blade with her own sword, but as the second one came in she had to shift her grip to catch it on her sword as well.  It was clear that blocking both swords was too much for her though, so she disengaged by retreating, opening enough space so that the blades could no longer reach her.

    Hadriel wasn¡¯t taking this passively though, and she pursued her foe, her weapons moving in a blur that I could barely follow.  In response the French saint suddenly changed the angle of her movement, instead of retreating she shot to the side, coming around at the angel from her left.  Hadriel tried to spin to face her, but Joan was matching her movements, keeping her enemy from being able to face her.  However, she wasn¡¯t simply dodging, rather she was thrusting out with her sword, forcing the angel to defend.  Even though her smaller blade seemed like a rapier in comparison to the huge angelic blades.

    Still, the disparity in the size of their weapons didn¡¯t seem to daunt her, rather she was using it to her advantage.  Hadriel might have been ambidextrous, but by Joan constantly being on her side Hadriel could only bring one weapon to bear.  The two of them spun in place, the resurrected saint wheeling around the angel, forcing her to constantly spin in place to keep her in their field of vision.  But even as they did so the space between them was a haze as their swords wove and swept through the air, a rapid staccato of metal on metal ringing through the area as they met and parted with enough force that I could feel the displacement of air.

    And then I lost them.

    Up until that point I¡¯d been surprised that was I able to keep up, given that they¡¯d been moving so fast, but I guessed that whatever enhancements my body had undergone had served to boost my vision because I was able to make them out even as they became blurs.  It was amazing, something that had to be seen to be believed.

    Then there was a sudden shower of sparks as Hadriel¡¯s sword managed to slip past Joan¡¯s defences and score a hit on her armour.  The blow was a glancing one and was unable to penetrate the armour, but the flash of the sparks was enough to make me blink.

    And that was all it took.

    I lost them, and all that was left was a pair of blurs of different colours spinning around each other so fast I could no longer hope to keep up.  Still, even the short exchange that I¡¯d seen let me get an idea of what Joan had wanted me to understand.

    As I¡¯ve said, I was a huge fanboy of stuff like superhero films and the like.  I¡¯d always taken great pleasure in watching the fight scenes, the more ridiculously embellished with special effects the better, but now I was starting to see that for all the work of their creators, the depictions they¡¯d made were inaccurate.

    Simulating something like flight took skill, effort, and money.  Reality wasn¡¯t limited by a special effects budget though, and I was starting to get why Joan thought flight was a key foundation skill.  In the air it was easier to move, you didn¡¯t have to brace against the ground or push off it to accelerate, nor rely on gravity to aid in your fall or to move against.  On top of that, both of them were moving in ways that ignored how I thought air resistance should have worked on things like wings.

    And that wasn¡¯t even taking into account the crazy manoeuvres that they¡¯re pulling off.  I think at one point Joan was briefly fighting upside down to avoid a horizontal slash from Hadriel.  This was stuff that you saw in anime!  I swore that if either of them started shouting out the names of their attacks then I was going to decide that the last few months were all nothing but some sort of fever dream that I was experiencing in the last moments of my life.

    The end of their sparring came with such a shocking suddenness that it took me a moment to fully understand what was happening.  One instant the two of them had been blurs of motion, their swords flashing through the air so fast that they looked more like the blades of a blender than they did the weapons of warriors.  The next, the two of them were still as statues.  The shift in motion was so jarring that my eyes kept on moving, trying to track forms that were no longer in motion until what had happened caught up with me.

    Joan had used one of her wings to block off Hadriel¡¯s movement in one arm, the large white-feathered limb pressing the arm against her side, the sword in her hand at just the wrong angle to muster any leverage.  The angel¡¯s other sword had not been so impeded though, and now rested with its flat against Joan¡¯s shoulder, the edge of the blade just touching the skin of her neck.  The message was clear, that could have been a killing blow.  However, it was undermined by the fact that the French saint¡¯s own slimmer sword was just pricking the underside of the angel¡¯s chin.  All she had to do was thrust and the tip would go straight up and impale her brain through the roof of her mouth.

    It was the classic mutual kill standoff, neither of them able to dispatch the other fast enough to avoid the fatal retaliatory strike.  To view it like this, in real life, words couldn¡¯t do their elegant and savage grace justice!

    The scene held frozen for a moment before my wide-open eyes, and then both the combatants relaxed and slowly drew their weapons away from each other¡¯s critical spots.

    ¡°A fine bout, Lady Joan,¡± Hadriel commented as her swords faded into her bracelets, her tone more respectful than I¡¯d ever heard it before. ¡°I confess to being surprised by the sheer . . . refinement of your fighting style.  It is unusual for mortal souls to be able to adapt so well.¡±

    Her final words could have sounded lofty and condescending.  Indeed, had they been written upon a page and read without tone or inflection they could not have been taken in any other way.  However, coming from the angel herself there was no taint of disdain or malice.  She was simply speaking as she always did, from the lofty heights of a being that had existed for longer than my species.  For her, this was an honest and respectful compliment, and Joan smiled and took it in the spirit it was intended.

    ¡°My thanks, honoured Hadriel.  I had fine teachers, much time, and much motivation.  Still, were this a true battle where you were unencumbered by the need to hold back I feel things would have gone far differently.¡±

    The angel nodded once, not saying anything, just letting the movement answer for her.  I supposed it made sense, Joan might be able to become an angel and use the power of one, but Hadriel had been created one, and had been using that power for literally millions of years.  That had to give her a serious edge.

    My head tilted as I examined that thought.  Was Hadriel that old?  When you thought about it, it made sense that God could have created successive generations when He needed to refill the ranks of His servants.

    ¡°Now, Adam.  Do you understand?¡±

    My musings upon the ages of various angelic generations were put to the side as Joan turned to look at me.  Her transformation had dropped, and she had returned to her mortal form, but even so, there was no mistaking her for just a normal young woman.  There was something that shone through, something of both her vitality and her sheer . . . personality that let you know that there was more to her than just what you were seeing.

    ¡°Yep,¡± I nodded my head sharply in agreement. ¡°I completely get where you¡¯re coming from, sorry I didn¡¯t understand before.  When I think about it, it¡¯s really obvious, just moving around is the absolute basics, right?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Hadriel agreed, speaking with the sort of solemnity that you¡¯d expect from a priest delivering a sermon. ¡°Without a firm footing, a man cannot strike a strong blow.  Without sure balance, a warrior cannot confidently swing a weapon.  Without flight an angel cannot fight, it is that simple.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not an angel.¡±

    I felt it needed to be said, even if I didn¡¯t yet fully grasp the subtleties of the distinctions.  I knew there were differences between angels and gods, but had only the most general idea of what those differences might be.  I knew I had the basic form of an angel, but is still felt too much like myself to believe I was one.

    ¡°No, but you have the wings, the halo, the flight and the strength,¡± She replied. ¡°You are close enough that I can teach you what I know best, and it shall serve as a foundation from which to build once you become more familiar with your powers.  It may be that direct combat shall be unsuitable for you, that you can use your Crown to wield an element against your foes, rather than your fists or weapons.  However, even if that is the case, then at least the skills you shall learn in flight shall be useful for both pursuit and evasion.¡±

    I felt a wry smile touch my lips as I nodded again.  I had to agree, being able to run away from a bad situation might not be the best or most heroic option to take, but it was smart to at least have it as a final fall-back.

    ¡°Afterwards, we shall see to what other talents you may have gained, but for now flight shall be our main focus.¡±

    I nodded again and focused on my internal energies again.  This time it came easier, the spreading of the magic through me, the anchoring of it to a single spot, all of it seemed to click into place at nothing but a minor mental command from me.  Was my body already getting used to it in some way?  It felt almost as though I didn¡¯t have to do anything, as though my body rose into the air in response to my wishes even before I went through the steps.  Well, I wasn¡¯t going to complain, I had other concerns.

    ¡°Right!  So, what¡¯s first?¡±

    Here came the meat of the training, and I had to admit, I was kind of looking forward to it.  I mean, sure, Joan had been trying to beat some basic combat acumen into me, but now it was different.  Now I was a demigod.  That had to count for something, right?  Sure, I¡¯d had to go through a bit more of the old ¡®hit the ground¡¯ deal a bit earlier, but now things were going to change.  I wasn¡¯t sure how things were going to go, but if we were going to be training my flying, then there probably wouldn¡¯t be much more sparring involved.

    That thought lasted until I saw Joan picking up three long wooden poles from the grass.

    ¡°Good,¡± the French saint declared as she passed two of the wooden lengths to Hadriel before grasping the last as though it were a sword. ¡°Then I shall begin your training.  We shall keep you close to the ground first, then move onto taking the skies when you are more comfortable using your flight for movements.¡±

    I blinked at her, then looked to the crimson-winged angel as she experimentally swung the two poles about.  In length, they were similar to the swords that she had stored away, though they were probably lighter, similar enough that she¡¯d quickly get comfortable with them.

    Oh.

    Oh dear.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to try and hit me with that stick, aren¡¯t you?¡± I blurted out as I watched the wooden pole as though it were a cobra in disguise. ¡°That¡¯s how we¡¯re training, isn¡¯t it?  You attack, and I try to dodge or block, and if I get it wrong then I get hit like a human pinata.¡±

    Joan smiled brightly at me and nodded her agreement, her face a clear display of enthusiasm and encouragement.

    ¡°Excellent, you grasp my plan swiftly.  Yes, it shall be hard for you, but it shall yield the swiftest returns upon both our time and our effort.  The Heavens have provided us with a precious period of safety by granting us this Sanctuary, but it will not last indefinitely, and we must make the best of the time it allows us!  Fear not, Adam!  I shall do my utmost to ensure that the skills and knowledge you need are engraved into your very flesh before the Sanctuary falls!  I swear it upon my Faith!¡±

    You know, it might have been better if I¡¯d known that her smile concealed a personality that took some pleasure in my upcoming suffering.  It didn¡¯t have to be any sort of sadistic joy, just that touch of schadenfreude that you see in people like personal trainers or drill sergeants.  Instead, all I could see was an earnest desire to help me, and how the hell was I supposed to resent that?

    ¡°So . . . what should I try first?¡±

    Great, here we go again.

 Chapter 3: And the World Marches On: Part Three

    The mortal was . . . persistent, Hadriel had to give him that.  Again and again, Lady Joan struck him with her wooden weapon, but though he fell repeatedly he kept on returning to his feet.  Such determination was laudable, however, the fact that he was clambering upright by using his limbs, rather than levitating himself upright, was less so.

    The crimson-winged angel sighed quietly and drifted back a bit to allow herself a better view of the sight before her.

    Mortals . . . mortals were not something she was accustomed to having to deal with.  She was a soldier, a warrior meant for battle.  She had fought in the corona of stars and swung her blades on the edges of the hells.  Her blood had been spilt by the howling spirits of the deep void, and she had in turn carved away at their forms in retaliation!

    So why was she here?

    That was the question that had been plaguing her, and it was not a feeling she was either familiar with or one that she enjoyed.  She knew that there were other angels, ones that had voluntarily reincarnated as mortals during the time that the earthly plane had been barred from the planes of the immortals.  They knew what it was like to be a mortal, but Hadriel lacked that.  She had never felt the need to be one, to have a family, to live a life as one of them, why should she?  She was content with what she was.

    Now though, it seemed as though taking a few decades of mortal time to live out a single lifetime might have been a worthwhile investment.

    ¡°Do not hesitate, Adam!  Just move!  Do not overthink, simply move!¡±

    Lady Joan called out the instruction as she swung at their charge again, and to his credit, the young man did try to follow her advice.  Hadriel felt the magic move in him, but it was sluggish, unsettled and unrefined, even if it was improving.  He moved, but not fast enough, and again the wooden weapon struck home, driving the air from his lung and causing him to collapse to his knees wheezing.

    Staring at him she could not help but feel . . . frustration?  Dissatisfaction?

    Demigods were known to the heavens, and even respected, to a certain degree.  Heracles, Perseus, Imhotep, Cu Chulainn, even ancient Gilgamesh, every one of them had been legends.  They had not been perfect, but they had been mankind written large, their failings matched by their triumphs.

    That had been the sort of demigod that she¡¯d thought to stand beside!

    However, the reality that she found was not what she had expected.  To be sure, there were signs of the might she had anticipated, his Awakening had lit up half the world after all, his halo was a Crown, and once his magic had gained vitality she had been able to feel the potential of it.  The problem was that all of it hinted at what he could be, what he could have been. Currently, Adam was . . . flawed, limited in a way that stoked her frustration.

    Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pressure upon the edge of her awareness.  This intrusion had shape and texture to it, a signature that she recognized, and one that caused her eyes to narrow in surprise.  Why were they trying to contact her?  For that matter, why were they even in this part of the world?

    Drifting away from where her charge and the resurrected mortal sparred Hadriel turned her focus inwards, concentrating upon the connection that had been opened.  She could feel the power of the one trying to contact her firming the connection, supplying the power needed for it to operate.

    <Hadriel, it has been some time.>

    The communication was nothing so simple as a voice in her head, it conveyed sensations, emotions, colours and even scents, it conveyed things that no mortal language had words for, depths of divine power, a position in the ranks of the heavenly army, harmonics of placement amongst the dimensions that pressed in against the mortal realm.  Mortals, even those like Joan of Arc who had been touched and empowered by the High Heavens, could not comprehend this means of communication, they were simply unequipped for it.

    This was the first time she had communicated directly with one of her brethren since she had begun her current task, and she found herself surprised by how much she had missed the contact.  For the past few days she had simply been accessing the cumulative pools of knowledge that were constantly being updated by angels about the world, but that was more akin to consulting a book than speaking to another thinking being.

    And this was a fellow angel that she was familiar with.

    <Yahoel, it is good to hear from you.  Do you bring fresh tidings of our campaign in this realm?>

    Yahoel was indeed a welcomed ¡®voice¡¯, as he was one of the higher-ranked angels that had been dispatched to the realms of Man to stem the machinations of the forces of hell.  As one of lord Metatron¡¯s direct subordinates he was well respected and held considerable authority over the troops dispatched to the world of mortals.  However, he was more of an administrator than a warrior.  As such he rarely saw the front lines and instead dealt with the tasks of telling the eager warriors of heaven where their targets were.  Though not a soldier he was held in great respect by all

    Like Hadriel he was a Third, a member of the third generation of angels to be created by the Lord only a few millennia before the Paths were closed.  As such he was almost a sibling to her, and to see him rise to such a position of importance was heartening for her and her kin.

    The first generation of angels had been the initial host that had been created shortly after the beginning of the universe.  Michael, Gabriel and Lucifer had all been members of that generation, as well as many of the older angels that went on to become the commanders and governors of the Hosts of Heaven.  The second generation had been brought into being during the aftermath of Lucifer¡¯s Fall and the Rebellion in Heaven.  The angelic ranks had been badly thinned by the conflict, a third lost when they fell with the Morningstar, and then so many died in the war that followed.

    The second generation had bolstered those flagging ranks at a time when the gods had begun to grow belligerent, sensing weakness in the High Heavens.  They had restored the angelic supremacy not simply by shoring up their numbers, but also by introducing newer and younger champions to their ranks.  Lady Bath Kol was a second generation, as were Ramiel and Raziel, all of whom became peers to the mighty Seraphs and archangels of the first generation.

    Her own generation had come far later, brought into being as the Twilight of the Gods began.  Their numbers had been great, and every one of them proved a worthy addition to the forces of the High Heavens.  However, they had failed to produce any great champions.  When compared to some of the older angels, who had been alive in time to watch the first suns being formed, they were so recent, so young.

    Her generation had been created to have strength in numbers, this was a simple fact, it had been what was needed at the time.  Still, it was . . . disheartening that so few of her generation were able to rise in the ranks.

    That was why it was always refreshing to speak to Yahoel.  He was one who had climbed the ranks, he was one who proved that third-generation angels had more to offer than mere numbers.

    <I bring tidings, but I fear that not all of them are good.> His reply echoed in her mind, a combination of warm assurance with a hint of blue reluctance.

    <Tell me of the good tidings first,> the crimson-winged angel requested, her mental ¡®words¡¯ tinged with hot anticipation. <I would hear of our victories first!>

    <There I have some tales that can be told,> The warmth of pride and affection shone through as he continued. <The wing of new reinforcements arrived days ago and was despatched to the western coast of the continent of Africa and was able to root out a fledgling demon nest created by a cult of mortals.  Though the wing was inexperienced in fighting on this plane they were still able to rout the nest without sustaining any casualties.  The cultists have been slain or detained, and the demons themselves razed from the world!>

    <Good tidings indeed!> Hadriel agreed.

    <Indeed!  Also, by the Lord¡¯s grace, the High Heavens have succeeded in brokering an alliance with the Celestial High Court, though some of the details have yet to be determined.  Oaths of mutual protection have been sworn though, ensuring that the Eastern deities shall coordinate their efforts with our own, as well as provide mutual support.>

    This was even more good news.  The heavenly empire of the deities of eastern Asia was a strange mixture of chaos and order.  They were the deities of a vast nation, one that had produced many legends and myths over the millennia.  Everything from the Jade Emperor who ruled over the Celestial Bureaucracy, to the Monkey King, to the Seven Gourd Brothers, all had risen as part of their legends and merged into a single pantheon of great size and diversity.  Gods, demigods, immortals, monsters, spirits, intelligent animals, their tales were rife with them all, and they each tried to find their own place in the faction.  Some of them were chaotic, even malicious, sowing mayhem and ill fortune everywhere they went.  Others were more righteous, selfless and heroic, or at least more orderly.  It was a mercy they had not all descended upon the mortal plane together.

    The most powerful factions of the Chinese pantheon were the Celestial Empire and the Celestial Bureaucracy that supported it.  In many ways, they were possibly the most ordered and regimented divine power in the world, aside from the High Heavens themselves.  Certainly, out of all the ¡®pagan¡¯ gods they were amongst the most, if not the most, orderly pantheon in existence.

    A true alliance was an excellent advancement upon them merely sharing enemies.  Hopefully, an agreement could be built upon to better ensure the defence of this plane in the future!

    Stolen novel; please report.

    <There has also been some progress in hunting down the demonic infiltrators.  Their measures have kept them from our sight, but with the additional power of this newest wing, we have been able to break some of them!  Three of them have been found and served justice, their bile forever silenced!  They could not give us the location of their fellows, but the hunt shall continue until all have been punished!>

    The message was joyous but also tinged with anger and disgust, sentiments the warrior angel could agree with.

    <It gladdens my heart to hear such tidings,> Hadriel stated, <But now that I have heard the pleasant intelligence that you have, please, let me hear the sadder tidings.>

    There was a moment of silence, and then pale blue sadness filled her mind as her request was answered.

    <The Wild Hunt has begun to move once more.  They returned to the mortal plane some few days ago and came into conflict with your former wing.  There were no casualties from the clash, but there were injuries, sufficient that Lumael, Unamiel and Dasmalael all returned to the heavens for healing.>

    That was disquieting, to say the least.  The Wild Hunt was one of the most dangerous factions of the fey kingdoms, a powerful force that appeared in many mythologies.  They were not a dire threat, but their return was something to be carefully noted.

    Hadriel felt a flash of hot frustration run through her at the thought of her comrades facing such enemies without her there.  As the Angel of Swords, she had been one of their strongest fighters, and her presence might have been enough to tilt the odds in their favour and prevent the wounds that had been taken.  Instead, she was here.

    Trying to distract herself from her unwanted thoughts she sent a query through the link.

    <Have there been any other events worthy of attention?>

    <There is but one matter, the principal reason for my calling out to you.>

    <What must I know?>

    Yahoel projected an image into her mind, a view of a great forest as seen from far above.  The vista was a beautiful one, a panorama of trees, rivers, glades and fields, yet there was something there that caused Hadriel¡¯s eyes to narrow.  It wasn¡¯t anything that immediately stood out to her, but there was something . . . something that told her there was more to the view than what she saw.

    <This is one of the great woods near to your location,> the elder angel sent to her mind. <Due to its proximity to your Sanctuary it was decided that it should be evaluated, lest there be any potential threats to your charge hiding within it.  The action was thought to simply be precautionary, but something was discovered there.>

    He paused again, and the red-winged angel took the opportunity to ask the question she felt was most important.

    <Is it a demonic incursion?  Might they be seeking to build their forces to launch an attack against our location?>

    <No,> The reply was immediate. <Such was our first concern, but it does not appear that any forces of the enemy have been able to find your location, nor does this . . . corruption appears to be demonic in nature.>

    <Corruption?>

    <Indeed.  Something seems to be warping the natural life of the forest,> Yahoel explained. <Nature is growing twisted there, monstrous lifeforms slowly replacing that which should exist.  Were that the only change transpiring then it would be a simple matter of finding the source of the taint and purify it.  However, the corruption is not a consistent thing, rather it fluctuates and changes location as time passes.  More than that, though the warping is not demonic, it is unquestionably malignant, enough so to warrant concern.>

    <How dangerous is it, at this time?> Hadriel questioned, her mind already wondering if she should leave the Sanctuary to purge this twisting of nature.  It might leave her charge under-guarded for a time, but the Lady Joan was still there, and the Hallowed Sanctuary would also be in place, so it might be secure enough for her to take the time.

    <The effects seem to be somewhat self-containing for the time being.  The monsters that are spawned by the corruption return to the source rather than spreading out as they could.  However, their numbers are growing, and soon those numbers may force them to spread beyond the call of the source which currently contains them.  Once beyond that call, they will feed on whatever they find, be it animals or mortals.>

    <So, mortals have already fallen victim to the creatures that have been created?>

    Red anger tinged her communication, along with yellow sorrow at the loss and failure of the angels to defend their creator¡¯s mortal children.

    <Yes.  There have been two occurrences of the creatures leaving the forest and seeking prey in the mortal settlements close to the woods.  One death is confirmed and more are possible.>

    <Would it not simply be best to purge the corruption?> The red-winged angel asked. <Large though the area is it would only be short work for a single wing of warriors to raze it and hunt down the beasts.  It would be simple to repair the damage to the forest as well, the trees could be regrown within a single turn of the moon.>

    It was not ideal, but a scorched earth tactic would eliminate this corruption speedily enough that the various efforts upon the mortal plane would not impacted by the numbers taken for the task.

    <No.  Such beasts as have been created are strong, but can still be slain by mortal weapons if enough of them are used.  This matter does not fall under our purview, at least so long as no forces of hell interfere.  The only reason I have informed you of this matter is that it is in your vicinity, something that you should be aware of for the time being.>

    Hadriel understood.  The hosts of the High Heavens had not returned to the mortal planes in order to solve all their problems for them.  Rather they were here to protect those mortals from that which went too far.  Most of the pantheons had some claim upon the planes of man, but with that claim came certain responsibilities and limitations.

    The accumulation of worshipers, ruling over domains, and even the punishment or death of mortals within those domains were permitted.  The wholesale destruction of entire civilizations or the genocide of an entire people was a different matter, as was the interference of hell.  The principal reason the angelic forces had been deployed to the mortal plane had been to protect mortals from the influence of demons and devils, but also to serve as a reminder to the other powers that the old rules still applied.

    That being said, the Almighty had decreed that some threats should not be moved against, though there had been sorrow in His voice when the commands were given.  Mortals needed to adapt to this new age, and in doing so there would inevitably be casualties.  It was to be mourned, but not prevented.  The duty of the angels was to prevent the collapse of the world, to ensure that mortals could continue to live at all.

    <I understand and shall be watchful.  The Hallowed Sanctuary shall ensure his protection for the time being though, so it is unlikely such beasts shall be of concern.>

    <It is unlikely, but it is best to be wary, rather than to be caught unawares.>

    Hadriel felt a small smile touch her lips.  That was something of a favourite saying of Yahoel¡¯s, one that he tried to live by.

    <Have you any other matter to inform me of?> She asked.

    <There is nothing of any great consequence,> Her fellow angel assured her. <Some few new demigods have Awakened, as have several Nephilim.  Some demon-born half-bloods have also emerged, though they were brought down after several short rampages.  The world continues to both change and stabilize as the returning forces find some equilibrium with each other and the mortals.>

    <Do you think it will hold?>

    He paused at her question, and she had a feeling she was not going to like the answer.

    <No.> The single word sounded like the toll of a bell at a funeral. <Not for too much longer.  For the time being all the gods, pantheons, and other powers are keeping each other in check.  None wish to be the first to take action, to be the instigators of what is to come.>

    <And just what is to come, Yahoel?>

    <War.  There could be no other outcome.  The world has grown in so many ways during the time mankind was left to its own devices, but it has also grown so much smaller than it once was.>

    He paused again, and Hadriel took the moment of silence as a chance to glance around.  It would seem that the resurrected saint had permitted the demigod she was training to take a break, because he was currently sprawled out on the grass, Lady Joan looking on with distinct amusement on her face.

    <Sooner or later the balance of power will tip and a pantheon shall want to take more   They will attempt to take it, only to offend someone else, and conflict will arise.  Those involved will call upon their allies for aid, attracting more attention, and others will seek to use the opportunity for their own ends and cause their own conflicts, and soon even more shall be drawn in.>

    Hadriel could see how it could happen.  Like the pebble that started the avalanche, a single action could indeed lead to a war unlike any the world had ever seen.

    Some of her dark thoughts must have leaked across the link because Yahoel addressed her again.

    <Do not mistake my bleak predictions for my accepting them as an inevitability.  War is the only outcome of conflict, but conflict itself is not inevitable.  Yes, matters cannot hold as they are, but that does not mean that their collapse is the only outcome.  They can be rebuilt, forged into something different, something stronger.  We have made alliances, other alliances can be made, alliances that will strengthen structure and order.>

    There was a sense of trepidation for a moment, then a feeling of acceptance, albeit slightly reluctant.

    <That is why your demigod is important, though I am not privy to the details.  He can help keep matters from breaking down further, and he can hopefully persuade factions to treat, rather than war.>

    Yes . . . yes, that made sense!  Hadriel glanced back down at her charge, seeing him in something of a new light.  Until now she had been focused upon his power as a warrior, someone able to slay monsters and slash apart the machinations of hell through pure force.  The notion that he might serve as more than that had not crossed her mind.  She supposed it was due to her own position as a soldier, being all too used to having to use battle to accomplish her goals, and she had just assumed that Adam would likewise need to do so.

    If he were to be a mediator or negotiator though . . .

    Suddenly her mind flashed back to the moment of his awakening, when she had seen those spheres of power that she didn¡¯t recognize.  Yes, one of them had unquestionably belonged to Lady Bath Kol, but the others . . .  Until now the crimson-winged angel had simply assumed that they belonged to other angelic lines, but what if that was not the case?  If her charge possessed blood ties to not only the High Heavens but also to some of the pantheons then it would place him in a unique position.  One that could be leveraged to get various gods and factions to listen to him where they would normally have ignored him.

    But that was the role he was meant to serve in.  She could think of several other angels of her own generation, angels she respected greatly, who would have been far more suited to the task than her.  Perhaps his strength would be more needed than she thought.  After all, many of the pantheons would never even acknowledge someone they deemed to be weak, so power would be needed to simply bring them to the negotiation table.

    <Have faith in Father, Hadriel.  Trust that He has both a reason and a plan for His actions.  Continue in your duties, and I am certain your place in events will be revealed.>

    She didn¡¯t answer verbally, she simply agreed, knowing that he would be able to sense the sentiment.  In return he didn¡¯t communicate any words, instead, there was a warm golden sensation just before the connection fell away.

    Below her, Adam was now once more on his feet and was doing his best to avoid the wooden rod Lady Joan was using in place of a sword.  As before, he was failing to avoid the blows, but the angel had to admit, there was some small improvement.  He had by no means mastered his newly gained flight yet, but he was already working out how to balance himself more ably, a step in the correct direction.

    She didn¡¯t smile, but her face did soften slightly.  Yes, he was not Heracles or Gilgamesh, but he seemed willing to work for what could be his.  To be sure, she might be more comfortable fighting at the side of a demigod in the fullness of his power.  But perhaps, being a teacher and aiding him in reaching that was what was needed.

    Slowly descending Hadriel began to mentally plan her future lessons.  They would not be gentle, but they would make him stronger.  After all, he would need that strength.

 Chapter Four: The Colours of Magic: Part One

    Chapter Four: The Colours of Magic

    ¡°Adequate.  Perhaps it is time that we moved onto a new aspect of your training.¡±

    I wanted to reply in a suitably thankful manner, but right then I was down on my hands and knees and gasping for air.  To my sides, even my wings were drooping, only just keeping themselves from simply flopping to the ground.

    One week, that was how long we¡¯d been focusing on just training my flight.  One whole week!

    It made me deeply envious of the heroes of many of my favourite shows and films.  When they had to train all they had to deal with was a few seconds of montage footing combined with a catchy theme tune.  I had to endure repeated drilling on one skill, aerial dodging, no end of bruises and many, many crash landings.

    I ached everywhere!  It felt as though I¡¯d finished a series of back-to-back Ironman triathlons, all while having a small anvil strapped to my back.  I was pretty sure that if my body hadn¡¯t received its upgrade from my Awakening then I might well be in need of a hospital bed.

    Joan had explained it to me, how flight put considerable pressure on my whole frame due to the forces involved, even if my magic was keeping me from being hit with the worst of it.  Not only that but having all that magic running through my whole body for so long and in such high concentrations also put its own strain on me.

    My magic channels were still young, despite how strong they were.  Constantly running so much power through them was giving them quite the workout, toughening them up and getting them used to carrying a constant load.  All this, all the flying, dodging, and unarmed sparring, was a good way of building up my body¡¯s endurance and my magical foundation at the same time. I was gaining this while getting me used to this entirely new means of movement.

    It had also been a good way for me to learn my limits.  As things stood, I could fly for just over an hour straight, as long as I was going at or near my top speed the whole time.  If I took it slower then I could last longer.

    By the end of it, I would be feeling tired, but not in a way that affected the rest of me.  I could still fight and move about on my legs well enough. My wings would still be just as strong and responsive, but my ability to fly would take a bit to recover.  It was as though it had a separate endurance all of its own.  Generally, it took about ten minutes for me to go from totally wiped to fully refreshed, something I¡¯d timed to be certain.  Not bad.

    Like normal endurance levels, things were getting better as I pushed myself. My time in the air had doubled from my original twenty minutes, and I wasn¡¯t done.  As far as speed went I wasn¡¯t entirely sure as to just what my limits were.  I knew I could fly fast enough that the grass blurred under me if I was low enough, but I also knew that I was nowhere near as fast as Hadriel could go if she chose to push herself.  As for how manoeuvrable I was . . . I wasn¡¯t bad at all.  I wasn¡¯t physics-defying like Hadriel yet, but I could make the best military hardware in the world weep with envy.  All in all, I thought that the effort put into the last seven days had been more than worth it.

    ¡°Very well, Adam.  You have done well so far, now it is time to see what we can teach you about your halo.¡±

    Ah, sweet salvation came from the side, the angelic tones of France¡¯s most iconic saint coming as a gentle balm to my soul, her words promising freedom from Hadriel¡¯s evil oppression and torture.

    Training with the red-winged angel was . . . lots of things.  I won¡¯t lie, there was exhilaration, excitement, and challenge aplenty, but sadly there was also failure, exhaustion, and pain in even greater amounts.  Hadriel was a harsh taskmistress, and I¡¯m not talking about the fun sort that some folks pay by the hour to be disciplined by.  Hadriel didn¡¯t shout, curse, or even raise her voice, but, somehow, she managed to be every bit as ruthless and demanding as the most merciless drill sergeant.

    Our training mainly came down to two exercises, her chasing me, or me chasing her.  It sounded so simple when put in those terms, but nothing could be further from the truth.  There were repercussions if I failed to win.  The sort of repercussions that would have resulted in concussion, had they been administered before my upgrade.  If nothing else I¡¯d certainly learnt that my bones, my skull especially, seemed to be much tougher.

    This was genuine training, learning how to roll with blows to lessen their impact, learning how to fall without getting all tangled up in my wings, learning how to see blows coming so I could dodge them.  I always tried to think of it as ¡®upper enemy training¡¯, me getting used to fighting someone who completely outclassed me in every way that I could think of.  If nothing else it was helping to toughen me up mentally so that I wouldn¡¯t just crumble as soon as I encountered a more powerful enemy.  Or at least, that was what I kept telling myself.

    It had worked though.  Sure, I still had some trouble with heights, but as long as I stayed . . . relatively close to the ground I was alright.  I wasn¡¯t exactly sure how high I could get before my vertigo started to kick in, but I could manage at least twice the height of the farmhouse.  I was also improving in other ways.  I wasn¡¯t ploughing into the ground when I tried to land, and the few times I¡¯d tried to fly through the nearby woods I¡¯d managed to avoid running into the trees.

    Of course, once the forest grew thicker there wasn¡¯t as much room to work with and my wings started hitting tree trunks.  It was a painful experience, but educational.  I learnt my wings were even tougher than I¡¯d thought they were, so much so that during my impacts it was the trees that took damage, rather than the bones in my new limbs.

    The thought of switching to working with my halo was one that I eagerly accepted.  After all, unless I could somehow grab my halo off my head and use it like a chakram, then chances were that whatever education Joan had in mind was going to be easier than what I¡¯d been dealing with up to this point.

    ¡°O . . . okay.  How do we do this?¡±

    ¡°That you have received a halo is unusual,¡± Joan¡¯s voice had adopted the tone I¡¯d now come to associate with her lessons on the supernatural aspects of the world. ¡°There are a number of Nephilim in the world, but none of them have ever manifested a halo before.  That you have one is significant and for more than simply being an indicator of your potential.¡±

    And there it was again, her referencing how much more powerful I should be, as opposed to my rather disappointing state of being.  I knew it wasn¡¯t her fault, I¡¯d been there when the ritual came under attack.  I knew how hard she¡¯d fought and what forces she¡¯d been up against.  Still, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a slight pang of resentment, one directed not at her but rather at the world in general, for the situation I found myself in.  Joan, Hadriel, and even Emma, all had told me of this massive potential I possessed, this enormous power I should have had and know how to use from the start.  Instead, I was now having to struggle for every onch of control I got.

    Still, getting back to what Joan had said . . .

    ¡°Why not?  I get Hadriel having a halo, but you¡¯ve got one too when you transform.  Why don¡¯t Nephilim have halos, and what does it mean that I¡¯ve got one?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I have misspoken,¡± Joan stated, her eyes growing distant for a moment before sharpening again. ¡°The ability to take on the form and power of an angel is uncommon, but not unknown in those with blood ties to the High Heavens.  What we are able to do is to temporarily shift both our bodies and our essence into what they would have been had the Lord made us as angels, and in doing so gain the powers we would have so possessed.  It is an alteration that substitutes one potential existence for one that already exists.  Of course, this is not perfect, as our true existences will always return, but while the power is in effect we are as close to true angels as one can be without being one.¡±

    She might have been ready to say more, but she paused as I held up my hands in a ¡®T¡¯ to signify a timeout.  Actually, I was a bit surprised that she understood the gesture, but this time I kept myself from following that train of thought down a rabbit hole and instead remained on topic.

    ¡°What do you mean that it ¡®substitutes one potential existence for one that already exists¡¯?  Are we talking about alternate realities?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t too sure how I was going to take it if she replied in the affirmative.  My life was already complicated enough now that I had to worry about not just my own world, but also heaven and hell, faery, Asgard, Olympus, and every other realm or world, or whatever the gods wanted to call their particular piece of creation.  The whole notion of alternate worlds, evil twins, and God only knew how many ¡®roads not taken¡¯ was not something that I wanted to add to the already very seasoned pot of my current circumstances.

    ¡°Nothing so far-reaching,¡± She assured me. ¡°To be touched by the heavens is to carry a portion of their nature within you.  This portion, no matter how tiny, will ¡®know¡¯ the vessel that holds it and will also ¡®know¡¯ how to alter that vessel to be a part of those heavens.  The power of transformation into an angel allows that small portion to combine with that power and overwrite the user''s body so that they become the angel they might have been.  How long they can maintain that transformation, as well as how powerful an angel they can transform into, is all dependant upon the strength of the power itself.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so what does that have to do with me and halos?¡±

    ¡°Because you, Adam, possess a halo even when you are in mortal form, and to the best of my knowledge that is something that has never happened before.¡±

    That made me blink before I voiced the protests that immediately rose in my mind.

    ¡°But I¡¯ve got the wings and magic channels, so what¡¯s so weird about me having a halo?¡±

    ¡°The wings are angelic in that they grant you extra magical channels and aid you in finer control and manipulation of your internal energies.  But they are not of the heavens in the same way that a halo is.  The difference between wings and halos is somewhat akin to the difference between armour and a badge of office.  This is an imperfect metaphor, but it does convey some of the nuances.  Halos are as part of an angel as their names are, a means of displaying rank, position within the legions of heaven, and even past accomplishments and hailed skills.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°That being said, a halo is not simply a decorative sign of rank.  It is an extension of the angel that possesses it, one that grants powers in their own right.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sorry, but I think you¡¯ve lost me.  Halos do give power?  Doesn¡¯t that mean that they¡¯re like the wings?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Joan shook her head. ¡°I fear I am explaining this poorly.  Wings serve as . . . strength.  They provide more magical channels, more control, more magical ¡®muscle¡¯ for you to use.  That is why wings are often an indication of strength amongst angels, the more wings one has the greater the power and control one possesses.  By contrast, halos are more akin to . . . weapons, I suppose.  A halo can be used to control and convert the energies of the individual who owns it.  This lets them shift those energies into different forms, such as natural forces, or more otherworldly elements.

    ¡°They do not grant you greater power in and of themselves, rather they simply allow you to use your own in a way that would have been far more difficult otherwise.  In time their wielders need no longer depend on them though, as their skills grow to match the advantage that the halo grants them.  At that point, the halos become more supplemental than anything else, providing a small increase in power over what their user can manage by themselves.¡±

    I tried going over her words until I was completely sure that I fully understood her.

    ¡°So,¡± I asked slowly, making sure to enunciate every word carefully so that there would be no misunderstandings. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that halos are essentially magical training wheels?¡±

    It sounded so . . . inane when I said it out loud, but that was the image that came to mind with her description, the training wheels that my dad had attached to my bike when I learning.  They¡¯d been useful, but I¡¯d still managed a couple of pretty spectacular accidents when I took them off, and my halo was that only for magic?

    ¡°Training wheels?  What are they?¡±

    I was momentarily taken aback by Joan¡¯s question, then remembered that this was a woman who¡¯d spent the last few hundred years up in heaven rather than down on the earth.  Such a reference would be lost on her.

    ¡°You know what a bike is?¡± When she nodded I kept going. ¡°They¡¯re these smaller extra wheels that are put on the sides of the back wheel when kids are trying to learn to ride so that they don¡¯t fall over so much and can get some confidence.  When they get good enough, they take the training wheels off, and it means that they¡¯ve learnt to ride without them.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, I do know what you refer to.¡± She smiled. ¡°Yes, there are similarities.  Halos make certain powers simpler to use by performing parts of them automatically for you.  For example, should you wish to convert your personal power into fire or lightning.¡±

    To highlight her words, she held up a hand, flashes of coloured light dancing around it for a moment before fading away.

    ¡°Though the knowledge of how to do so comes intuitively to an angel, in their youth it may be a troublesome task to perform.  Their halo makes such easier by taking over the more complex aspects of the conversion, leaving the angel only the task of directing the converted power.

    ¡°As they repeatedly use the skill the halo performs less and less of the task, allowing the angel to grow more and more proficient at it until the halo is no longer needed in such a capacity.  Once this point has been reached it can then be used in other, more useful, ways.

    ¡°It is possible to use them to create personal restraints that you need to work against, thus building your strength and control when not in battle.  Alternatively, they can provide increases to your power, joining their strength to your own to create a greater cumulative effect.  They can even be used to control already created magic constructs for you, thus freeing you to concentrate on using another power, rather than maintaining an already existing one.¡±

    That sounded more interesting, especially that the halo could be used as a training device even after its primary function had been fulfilled.  Still, it was their primary function that was of more interest to me at this moment, namely getting access to whatever kind of magic I had gained with my Awakening.

    ¡°So how do I get it to work?

    Joan sat down before me in a cross-legged position and indicated that I should do likewise.  Once I was in the more meditative pose she closed her eyes and folded her hands in her lap.

    ¡°Let your mana flow through your body and up to your head,¡± Joan spoke softly and I tried to follow her directions. ¡°Picture it travelling along the inside of your spine, reaching the base of your skull and then running to form a ring around your head as though a crown were sitting upon it.¡±

    I did so and was pleased to feel the energies within me respond with relative ease to my desires.  The spine wasn¡¯t one of the main magical channels in my body, but it was a large one nonetheless.  Its dimensions were limited more by my body structure than anything else.  It felt warm, but cool at the same time, a mixture of pleasant sensations combined with something like the tingle of a very mild electrical current.

    What was even stranger was the way I could ¡®feel¡¯ it, even though it had absolutely no physical presence in my body.  I could still press against it with my will, with my effort, and feel it both respond and resist.  The resistance was minuscule, but it was there.  It was something to overcome, rather than simply mentally ordering the mana to go where I wanted and for it to be there.

    This was different to when I made myself fly.  When I flew there was less fine control.  I simply flooded my body, then linked it all to a single point to serve as an anchor, and then I used that point to move all of me.  It was fairly simple, once you got the trick of it down, as easy as picking up and shouldering a slightly heavy backpack.  What I was doing now was more intricate, a slower and more controlled movement.  It was something that made me think of those slow martial arts katas that are used in things like Tai Chi, or Qigong.

    Soon the energy was circling my head, a ring of gently controlled force as light as a feather but as deadly as a blade.  I could feel the potential there and knew that if I was to mess with it, to treat it carelessly or foolishly, then it was likely to make me pay for it in blood.  As long as I was careful I could balance it on my bare flesh with little issue.  But if I moved incautiously, if I disregarded it, then the blade would bite and take its price for my mistake.

    Joan must have been able to sense that I¡¯d readied the energies as she wanted because she spoke again.

    ¡°Good, now let it float up.  Think of it as heat, as steam.  It wishes to rise, such is its natural state.  Allow it to do so, but maintain concentration, maintain control.  Once it has moved a certain distance you shall begin to feel something begin to tug at it.  Do not interfere, allow the magic to be taken.¡±

    I didn¡¯t nod, I didn¡¯t want to distract myself after all, but I did follow her instructions.  In my mind¡¯s eye, the ring of magic that had been running around my head slowly rose until it was hovering a few inches over my head.

    CHNNK! CHNNK! CHNNK! CHNNK!

    I started at the sudden burst of metallic explosive snaps that suddenly went off right above my head.  My almost trance-like state of concentration broke, but that was fine.  The magic I¡¯d been circling my head was already gone, absorbed into the large ring of floating metal pieces that now hovered above my head.  As I tilted my head back I could look up at them, dozens and dozens of individual parts all hovering together to create a whole that was oddly compelling to see, even from this angle.  I made a mental note to take a look at it in a mirror once I had the opportunity, but for now, I had other things to focus on.

    ¡°Good, that is an excellent first step,¡± Joan nodded to me as she got back up to her feet, a movement I followed. ¡°Now, can you feel the difference?  Can you feel the additional paths of power that manifesting your halo offers you?¡±

    Yes, yes I could.  Since I¡¯d sparked my mana into full potency I¡¯d become more aware of the various forces that flowed through me.  Chi was more of a background energy, but mana was far more noticeable, what with the way it seemed to constantly be doing something.  With the appearance of my halo, it was as though there was a new layer to it, as though my mana had grown in both size and complexity.  It wasn¡¯t as though the halo was physically attached to my mana system, even though it had prompted the change.  Like the moon influencing the tides of the earth, the halo was drawing out these new properties.  It was a part of my system yet stood alone at the same time.

    It was awesome, even beautiful, but that didn¡¯t change a rather pertinent fact, namely that I had absolutely no idea of what to do next!

    ¡°So . . . how do I get this thing to work?¡±

    My baffled tone seemed to amuse the French saint, as a beautiful smile graced her face, one that made my heart skip a beat.  Again, I reminded myself that this was a woman that was off limits, she was so off limits that she might as well be on another continent.  Unfortunately, my wretched hormones weren¡¯t getting the memo.  That smile was making my heart beat a bit faster and my cheeks grew a bit warmer.  As she replied I was glad just to get my mind back on track.

    ¡°That is a fairly simple exercise, all you need to do is gather a larger than normal charge of mana about your core, then allow it to radiate outwards through your channels.  As your halo is currently connected to your mana system the power shall naturally flow into it.  When it does so you wi-¡±

    She had more to say, stuff that would probably have been very useful to me, but I had been following her instructions, or what I thought had been instructions, as she spoke, so the wave of mana was already washing through me.

    With the benefit of hindsight, even if only by a couple of seconds, I realized that this approach had not been the smartest.  I should have waited for her to finish talking before I did anything, but by that point, I was too late.  Her words were cut off as I felt something . . . click into place, and then my senses were flooded and the rest of the world went away for a bit.

    My world suddenly no longer seemed to be operating on the rules I was familiar with.  Instead, it had become a rainbow . . . that was the only way I could describe it.  The world seemed to fall away, and all that was left was an existence of colours, every single colour imaginable, every one of them clear and distinct, yet at the same time existing in perfect harmony with the other hues adjacent to them.  Of course, it was nothing so simple as a mere display of magnificent shades of every colour, there was so much more to them than just what I could see.

    I could look at one shade of reddish-orange, and I could feel the heat of fire, hear the crackle of burning, even smell that hint of heated air that came from an open flame! I could look at one shade of blue and hear the roar of the sea, smell the salty scent of brine, feel the spray of the surf on my skin, then I could look at another shade of the same colour and feel the wind of a clear sky, the smell the fresh air of a clear day.  With green, I could hear the rustle of leaves, while dark grey made me feel the grinds of massive stones moving oh-so-slowly against each other.  Purple gave a sense of majesty, of power and authority, while gold not only brought the feel of the precious metal to me but also the feeling of value, of victory, of being the best!

    I don¡¯t know how long I was there, time was a meaningless concept, save when it was attached to a sandy shade of yellow that seemed to have some affinity to it.  I just drifted from one colour to the next, experiencing what each had to offer and then moving on.  Some were so simple, such as a light grey that seemed tied to the concept of motion, others were unbelievably complex, such as a beautiful blue-green shade of cyan that seemed to encapsulate the entire concept of a whole living world!  One after another they came, no order or pattern to them, just one after another, my passage between them no more under my control than the course of a hurricane could be dictated by an ant.

    Seconds, years, centuries, millennia, it could have been any of them.  Hell, it could have been all of them.  All I knew was that I was experiencing more than I could comprehend!  I was seeing the life cycle of stars, of whole galaxies, the void between tiny points of light itself!  For brief instants, I knew the inner workings of such concepts as time, space, the fundamental basis of reality, the rules and composition of souls themselves!

    I was reminded of my vision, of when I had seen the dawn of Creation during my Awakening.  There was so much here, more than I could ever hope to grasp.  It was there and gone in mere moments, the knowledge was simply too vast for me to hold onto.

    Then, with almost agonizing slowness, the flood became a current, then a stream, then just a trickle, and bit by bit the vast array of colours and sensations faded away, the regular world rising up to take their place.

    I was feeling more than a little bit frayed around the edges as I came back to the present, and all I could do was blurt out the first words that came to mind.

    ¡°Whoa! Trippy!¡±

    At that point, my body and mind both decided that I had abused them enough for the day and that they weren¡¯t in the mood to put up with it anymore.  I was sent plummeting down into the comfortable darkness of unconsciousness.  I suppose I could have fought, tried to stay awake but I was suddenly just so tired, so much so that my earlier exhaustion seemed nothing by comparison.

    In the end, the darkness was something of a welcome relief.

 Chapter Four: The Colours of Magic: Part Two

    ¡°. . . currently connected to your mana system the power shall naturally flow into it.  When it does so you will synchronize to it, and experience a sudden connection with whatever element or concept your halo is aligned to, so it would be best to brace yourself in preparation.¡±

    All in all, Joan felt things had been progressing well for Adam¡¯s training.  They hadn¡¯t been able to move onto the combat portion yet, but they had been able to get him to build a solid base of knowledge on the basics.  Mastering his power of flight was a good first step. It was not only preparing him for the more advanced lessons in airborne combat, but also giving him plenty of exercise for his newly developed magic.  His difficulty with heights was a complication, but one that could be dealt with over time, with the correct training.  He had made decent progress, all said.

    She just wasn¡¯t sure if it would be enough.

    Almost a quarter of the time that the Hallowed Sanctuary would give them had already been used.  In a matter of weeks, the world was going to become his problem, one way or another.  The young man¡¯s Awakening had been a demonstration of power that not even the gods themselves could ignore.

    That would not sit well with many of them, of that she was certain.  The gods were many and varied in their personalities, but there was not one among them that did not possess a certain pride in their status as a divinity.  Adam¡¯s demonstration of power could be seen as a challenge, or a declaration, something to be met and crushed.  Other gods would look upon him with greed, seeing power that could be harvested or harnessed for their own ends.

    Joan had faith in him, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that he wasn¡¯t progressing as fast as he needed to meet such challenges.  He¡¯d sparked his magic, and he was showing advancement.  That was progress, it was even good progress.

    But if Adam was simply ¡®good¡¯ then he would fail.

    He had to be mighty, he had to be overwhelming!   There was no other path for him that would see him thrive.  If he was simply good then it was inevitable that he¡¯d end up being dragged along by another, someone more powerful.  He might distinguish himself, but he would not be reaching the heights that his task demanded of him, he would not be more than a glorified lackey.

    The Almighty had set her to this task, had shown her the destiny that might be, and she would do all she could to see that her charge could reach the heights that she knew he was capable of.  All of this was hovering at the back of her mind as she continued her lesson, a driving force and a source of concern.

    ¡°Whatever affinity you have should make itself clear to you immediately, it might even swallow up all your awareness when you first connect to it if your compatibility is great enough.  As soon as you are ready you sho-¡±

    Her first hint that anything had gone wrong was when the Crown that was Adam¡¯s halo began to sing.  It wasn¡¯t words or music, it was just a single note of almost heart-aching purity that rang out across the area that had been serving as a training field.  Her words cut off, and the resurrected soul¡¯s eyes snapped to her charge as she realized he was no longer listening to her, in fact, he had not been listening fo some time.  He was lost to the world, his mana having connected to his halo and the process of its synchronization having begun.

    Joan very deliberately did not curse, though colourful and graphic profanities that she had learnt during her time with the French army did run through her mind.  In truth, the situation wasn¡¯t that dangerous, but she had hoped to have had Adam more prepared before he tried this.  With some more preparation, the experience could have helped him glean insight into the hidden nature of his power.

    There was a rush of displaced air to her side, and with a small turn of her head, she could see that Hadriel had come to hover only a few feet beside her.  Her eyes were locked on Adam, or rather on the halo hovering over him.

    ¡°I can feel the power flooding through it.¡±

    She spoke the words as a calm statement of the truth.  Still, there was a slight frown on her face as the halo continued to sound its single note, as though she was trying to work something out but couldn¡¯t quite make the connection she wanted.

    ¡°Does the note mean anything to you, honoured Hadriel?¡± Joan asked, curious as to whether the clear tone was any clue as what kind of Crown her charge might possess.

    ¡°No,¡± The angelic soldier shook her head. ¡°At first I believed that the note might be part of a song, such as those that serve Lady Bath Kol, but it does not continue.  There is something there though, something that I can sense just beyond my ability to recognize it.  I am uncertain as to just what, but . . .¡±

    The angel paused, her eyes narrowing more as she looked about herself, as though trying to spot someone invisible who was trying to creep up on her.

    ¡°What is that?  I can feel . . . something, but I cannot place it.  What . . .¡±

    For a moment Joan was perplexed, unsure of just what might have drawn the attention of her ally in such a way, then she felt it as well, something at the very edges of her awareness.  It was like a breeze so soft that you were unsure if it was real or imagined, except that this wasn¡¯t something as simple as a change in the air currents, this was . . .  Her own eyes narrowed as she tried to grasp what she was sensing.

    It was pervasive in a way she¡¯d not experienced before, yet it wasn¡¯t as overt as the vast flood of light that had emerged during Adam¡¯s Awakening.  It was as though something that had always been there, still in the background, had started moving.  And in doing so . . . everything else was moving as well?  The French saint¡¯s eyes widened as she realized this, darting about to take in all the small details.  The faint breeze was now more noticeable, the clouds above also moved, but in opposition to the air currents.  The stalks of white grass beneath her danced but did so independently of the air¡¯s gusts.  Even the soil she stood on seemed to be subtly shifting around, almost vibrating in place.

    ¡°Lady Joan, do you know what this is?¡±

    The question came as a surprise to her, given that the angel had better sensory abilities than she did, shouldn¡¯t it be her asking that of Hadriel?

    ¡°No!  I . . . it is all everywhere, all small, but everywhere!  It . . .¡±

    She stumbled over her words as she attempted to divide her focus between answering her ally and trying to discern just what was going on.  As she did so she realized that the note from the halo was still ongoing, though despite its insistent pitch it was causing her no discomfort.

    The single unending note of the halo should have been having been irritating, grinding upon her nerves, but it wasn¡¯t.  Indeed, rather than feeling irritated or vexed she felt refreshed.  It was an oddity, one that stuck at the periphery of her thoughts as she continued to try to identify what was going on.

    ¡°Everywhere . . .  no, it is everyTHING!¡±

    Hadriel was the first to spot it, but as soon as she pointed it out Joan understood.  She¡¯d thought that the phenomenon was spread out over a large area, but it wasn¡¯t a large single effect, rather it was uncountable individual effects all merging together.  Every pebble, every blade of grass, every tiny air current, each and every one of them was . . . was what?  She could now make some sense of it, but she still had no idea as to what was going on.

    ¡°It . . . it cannot be.  No, but then . . . that does not . . . why . . . ?¡±

    To her side the crimson-winged angel seemed to be every bit as baffled as Joan herself felt, her eyes darting around as she tried to understand what was going on.  However, there was something to her words, as though she might have thought of something, but was dismissing it as foolishness.

    Then the air suddenly seemed to tear!  There was a loud ripping noise, closer to thunder than anything else, and the resurrected soul had to blink her eyes as the afterimage of a blinding line seared itself into her vision.  It took her a moment to realize what she¡¯d seen, but by then the air cracked again, this time more softly, and on the other side of her charge.

    ¡°Lightning?¡±

    As Joan watched, smaller and smaller bolts of lightning crackled around Adam, none of them ever touching him, but instead forming a corona.  In only a few seconds the display ceased, but the air felt charged even after the arcs of wild energy had faded.

    Was that the nature of the halo?  Thunder and lightning?  If so then it would make a certain level of sense.  Throughout human history, the wrath of the heavens and storms had always been associated and held in awe by the mortals across the world.  The power of lightning was a potent one.  It was no coincidence that such gods as Zeus and Jupiter had claimed that power for themselves, nor that the most militant of the angels of heaven were also known as the Thunders of God.  If her charge was to be a champion tied to the heavens then to be able to wield the power of lightning was a potent power to possess.

    Her mind was already beginning to devise ways in which such a power could be trained and refined when a single sentence from Hadriel scattered her thoughts.

    ¡°It is the mana.¡±

    ¡°Mana?  Is there something wrong with his mana?¡±

    Thoughts of lightning were abandoned as Joan¡¯s concern flared.  Was this to be another hurdle thrown before Adam?  Things were already hard enough for him, would magic also be as difficult a path as all his other divine gifts seemed to be?

    ¡°What?!¡±  Her question seemed to startle the angel because she turned to look at her, her eyes wide. ¡°No!  No, there is nothing wrong with his mana.  What I mean is that the feeling we can sense . . . it is the mana in this whole area reacting to his Crown.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I see,¡± That was good news. ¡°Which mana is it?  if we can narrow it down then training him in its use shall be much simpler.¡±

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    Hadriel blinked, her face blank for a moment, then shook her head.

    ¡°No, you do not understand.  He is not drawing in a single type of mana, instead, his halo has seized control of all the mana about him!  It is all entering him, cycling through his system, becoming a part of him.  I am not yet certain as to his range, but within that range, no type of mana seems to be outside of his influence.¡±

    She paused for a moment, then turned to face Joan, her eyes now wide with astonishment.

    ¡°That is why his halo is a Crown!  It grants him dominion over all . . . mana?¡±

    She sounded somewhat uncertain, but the French saint didn¡¯t focus on that, instead, she was more interested in what had just been suggested.

    ¡°So . . . it is the Crown of Mana?¡±

    Joan was uncertain as to the lore of the Crowns.  What she knew had come to her while learning other things, so she did not know how many Crowns there were, all who possessed them, or even what all those she knew of did.  Still, a Crown that controlled mana, that could be an immense asset.

    Mana was the base form of all magic, the original mystic energy from which every form of magic arose, so dominion over it would lead to a staggering number of options.  Even if it was simply a case of him being able to draw ambient mana in, then it would mean that his reserves of power would regenerate at a vastly increased rate.  If the Crown let him do more . . .

    Her thoughts were scattered by Hadriel¡¯s next words though, and thoughts of unlimited magical endurance were cast to the side.

    ¡°No . . . it is not just mana that is responding.  It is faint, but I can feel . . . chi?  The chi of the earth?  And . . . and there is something else, I cannot identify it, but there is something else stirring.¡±

    Her eyes went from narrowed to wide open, her face one of astonishment.

    ¡°Magic?  The Crown is tied to . . . magic?  I . . . I do not fully understand, but there is something . . . something tied to the forces that compose magic.¡±

    Joan opened her mouth to question the angel¡¯s words but was cut off by the sudden crackle of flames.  Turning back to Adam she saw that he was now sitting in a perfect circle of fire, the red and orange flames dancing in a beautiful but unnatural synchronized pattern.  As this happened, snow drifted down from above him, seemingly from nowhere. Tthe heat of the flames was causing the flakes to dance and blow about, even as they came down upon them.  The crackle of the fire was joined by the hiss of the flakes evaporating in their heat, the opposing elements existing together for a few brief moments before both faded away.

    ¡°So much mana is gathering in a single spot, it is manifesting random elemental changes purely by chance,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°But . . . it is so contained.  Even a master of the mortal magical arts would have difficulty in replicating such . . . contained power.¡±

    ¡°Another indication of Adam¡¯s potential, and this one does not seem to be as limited as the other divine gifts he possesses.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.  He seems to be able to use it more intuitively than his other abilities.  Could it be because it is due to the halo rather than his flesh?¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s question was an odd one, and Joan was not ashamed to say as much.

    ¡°I do not grasp your meaning.¡±

    ¡°The Crown is a halo, an advanced and enhanced one, but still a halo.  It is both a part of our charge and an external artefact.  The . . . interruption that disrupted your ritual caused our charge to fail to develop an instinctive mastery of his divine gifts, but the halo is different.  As a heavenly construct, it is unaffected by the disruption he has suffered, meaning that this aspect of his power is flawless.  He may not be able to use its full power, as with his other divine gifts, but it is less flawed, so he is closer to mastery with his halo than with his other abilities.¡±

    That made sense, and the resurrected soul felt some excitement begin to bubble up in her.  This was the first sign of a true advantage for Adam that had been shown since his training began, something that could give him the edge he needed.

    There were no more words as the two of them stood guard over the young demigod as the hours ticked by.  Various brief effects surrounded him as time passed.  Some of them were simple, such as the small gemstone trees that sprang up about him, then crumbled to dust and were reabsorbed by the earth.  Others were more inscrutable, such as the mercurial grey shimmer that passed over him for a few moments.  Or the time the colours seemed to flash to inversions of themselves, then back to normal fast enough to give Joan a minor headache.  The sun was just starting to go down when the note of the halo suddenly stopped, and Adam drew in a sudden breath as his eyes began to flutter.  It was still another minute before he fully awoke though, his eyes blinking a few times as they swum back into focus.

    ¡°Whoa! Trippy!¡±

    With that informative statement he tipped over backwards and fell flat on his back, his wings spread out gracelessly around him and his limbs splayed out in a vague resemblance to a starfish.

    Maybe it was simply a release of tension, maybe it was the sheer absurdity of her charge¡¯s posture, whatever the case Joan suddenly felt laughter bubble up from inside her.  Before she knew it she was clutching at her stomach as tears of mirth clouded her vision and her laughter echoed across the field.  Hadriel turned a slightly bemused look upon her, but that only served to send the French saint into further gales of laughter.

    After a bit, she was able to bring herself under control and gestured to Adam¡¯s prone form.

    ¡°L-lets . . . heh heh . . . let¡¯s get him inside.  He might be hardier now, but just leaving him there cannot be good for him.¡±

    She was still chuckling when the two of them lifted him.  His wings made the action a bit difficult, especially when they kept flexing in an almost spasmodic way, but aside from digging a few groves in the earth, they were of minimal impediment.  The sheer absurdity of it made her laugh even more, and there was a cathartic release to it.

    Ever since the negative consequences of the interrupted awakening had been learned, Joan had been worried he would not be able to meet his destiny.  This, his latest demonstration of power and the renewal of hope it brought, helped to dispel much of the gloom that had been slowly growing around her heart. It gave her a firmer sense of which direction she should be training him in.  It was a good feeling, a most welcome one.

    ¡°This development, his possessing a Crown, I must report it to the others that are assigned to this realm.¡±

    The red-winged angel¡¯s words were enough to end her cheer, as Joan¡¯s thoughts began to race.

    ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Hadriel was surprised by her sudden response and turned to look at her as they stood on the landing outside of Adam¡¯s room. ¡°Why should I deny my comrades this knowledge?  The news that there is a Crown upon the descendant of Bath Kol will kindle many spirits that might be wavering.¡±

    The resurrected saint¡¯s mind raced as she tried to put her feelings into words, as her denial had been more of a gut reaction than a thought-out response.

    ¡°Adam . . . Adam is still weak, he has not yet come into his power in any meaningful way, at least as far as his battle strength is concerned.  Letting others know that he has a Crown that he cannot yet use to full strength will simply ensure he is a target of greater priority to those that would oppose the powers of the High Heavens.¡±

    ¡°No angel would allow such information to spread to our foes,¡± Hadriel sounded genuinely offended by the insinuation that her brethren would do anything to aid the forces they fought against or endanger the demigod she was assigned to protect. ¡°They would lay down their lives first!¡±

    ¡°No insult is meant,¡± Joan assured her, struggling to give voice to her thoughts. ¡°But I fear that the knowledge would not be given willingly.  Sad though it is, the forces of the Enemy have succeeded in defeating the soldiers of heaven before, and in their defeat information has been forced from them through the use of torture or compulsion.  The knowledge that a demigod possesses a Crown must not be revealed until Adam can defend himself!¡±

    For a moment she feared that she had pushed things too far, as genuine outrage flashed across the face of the angel, but in the next moment, it was gone, replaced by a considering frown.

    ¡°I . . . understand what you mean,¡± She replied, her words coming somewhat reluctantly. ¡°Though I would wish it otherwise it has been known for the secrets of heaven to be taken by force, and I know that his safety is our highest priority until he learns to control his divine powers.  Still, it is a hard thing to do, to keep it a secret.  I know that for many of my fellow angels, the battle upon the mortal plane has not been as successful as we would have wished.

    ¡°Losses have been minimal due to the lack of overt conflict, but the forces of hell are proving . . . troublesome.  There are no great wars, but there are personal conflicts.  Nuriel continues her feud with Garmarath, and their clashes mean that she is not as attentive to her other duties as she might be.  Then there was the injury of Baradael in the battle on the shores of the Great Ice.  And though they are more irritating than dangerous the cults that call on demons appear often enough to dishearten my brethren.  Some good tidings would be well received and appreciated by all the Hosts.¡±

    Joan could understand where Hadriel was coming from.  From what she knew, the campaign upon the mortal plane had so far been mostly quiet, with only one or two moments of frantic activity and battle.  Most of the creatures sent from hell had chosen to work in a quiet way, rather than the more destructive ¡®burn, despoil, pillage, and burn some more¡¯ approach that the more violent among their number favoured.  For the most part, it was low-key, but twice it had resulted in outbreaks that needed pitched battle to put them down.

    And, of course, that was just the demonic side of things, there were so many other things to watch out for.  There were returned gods that could go mad with power, or rogue elementals going on mindless rampages to propagate their influence.  Then there were malicious demigods coming into their might and using it for their own ends, even mortals taking the name of the Lord God and the heavens in vain in some catastrophic manner.  So far such events had been mercifully rare, and most had been dealt with, but the deployed forces had to be vigilant.

    Still, for all that, the situation was not as bleak as it might sound.  Essentially the demons could advance, but only to a certain point, while the angels could always stop them advancing, but not until after many mortals had been hurt.  It was a stalemate, but one that was more wearing upon the angels than the demons.  They could take pleasure in the mayhem they caused, and by their very natures they had little concern for those of their number that fell. The forces of heaven, however, felt that each innocent life cut short, or each member of their numbers that was slain was a loss, a failure.

    The thing was that while angels were spiritual beings that would normally possess utterly unshakable wills and convictions, descending to the mortal realm had left them vulnerable to frustration, dismay, and even despair.  Here they inhabited bodies of flesh and bone, superhuman flesh and bone, but flesh and bone nonetheless.  The spirit might be willing, but even empowered and enhanced flesh could become weak, worn down by repeated battles without any real sense of victory.

    Good tidings, good news of any sort really, were of value to offset the slow grind the situation had on morale, and she understood why Hadriel had immediately thought of sharing the knowledge that the demigod the Lord had sent them to protect had such a clear sign of power as a Crown.

    ¡°We can let them know, but not yet, not now,¡± She disliked it, disliked having to deny the angels such good tidings, but she would remain true to her duty. ¡°When he is stronger, when he has a better grasp upon his powers, then we can inform them, let them know of the strength he can bring to our aid.  But not before.¡±

    Joan felt wrong being the one to say ¡®no¡¯ to the angel.  Her respect for the angels of the High Heavens was immense, but it did not overtake the responsibilities she had towards her charge.  And for now, she needed to keep Adam safe.

    The red-winged angel did not look happy at her words, but it was the resigned discontent of one who knew that what they wanted to happen was not the best course of action.

    ¡°Very well.  I would take joy in bolstering my fellow angel¡¯s spirits, but I understand that caution must be exercised.¡±

    Silence reigned between them as they carried their unconscious charge into the farmhouse, each of them occupied with their own thoughts.  It was only when they finally got him back up to his room, despite his wings, that Hadriel spoke up.

    ¡°Something has just occurred to me.  This is the third time that we have had to bring him up to his quarters in this manner.  Is it normal for mortals to lose consciousness so frequently?  Or should we be concerned for his health?¡±

    The question was asked in total seriousness, but as Joan considered it, she found herself highly amused.  Adam seemed to have a rather poor habit of somehow ending up unconscious with almost worrying frequency.  After Awakening, he was unconscious, after sparking his magic, after attuning to his halo, far too many times.  Perhaps it would be something to watch out for in the future.

    As they left Adam her thoughts shifted to more serious matters.  Tomorrow was when the serious training would begin, and she had to make plans as to how to get the best out of the time left to them.

 Chapter Four: The Colours of Magic: Part Three

    Emma held her breath as she tried to stay absolutely still.

    For just a moment she took the time to contemplate the irony of her situation.  Here she was, wrapped in some of the most sophisticated and potent stealth spells that the mortal plane had ever seen, and she was being forced to rely upon shadows and stillness to keep her hidden.  The very spells that had ensured no scryer, seeker, or distance viewer could ever find her did little to keep her concealed from the naked eye.  To be sure, they would hide her true nature, make her appear to be nothing more than a normal mortal, one that was forgettable and could easily fade into the crowd.  That was how she had carefully designed them, and for centuries they had kept her safe, letting her disappear into the mass of humanity.

    The problem was that though they were works of art that would make even immortal mages stare in awe, they were absolutely unsuited for what she was doing.  They were meant to make her a part of the crowd, indistinguishable from anyone else.  That wasn¡¯t of much use when she was the only person in this entire town.  Sure, she still appeared as only a normal human, but that did nothing to make her harder to spot.  And as the only living thing here, she stood out a great deal.  Even worse, they meant that she couldn¡¯t employ any lesser concealment magics, since the greater ones upon her instantly broke any lesser ones that she tried to apply.  It was a security feature meant to prevent other mages from tagging her with tracing enchantments, and even though it had saved her in the past, now it was a liability.

    The town had been empty for about a week now, a combination of governmental decisions and gentle mental pressure from the Hallowed Sanctuary having convinced the population to leave.  It was well known that this town had been practically next to the origin spot of the massive globe of light created by Adam¡¯s awakening.  Sure, most mortal parties didn¡¯t know exactly what it was, but they were smart enough to guess that anything that lit up half the world was something to take notice of.

    The French government had been all over the place for the first few days after Adam¡¯s awakening, looking for anything that might tell them something.  Naturally, they hadn¡¯t found anything at the local farmstead that had recently been renovated, not with the Sanctuary on it, and the same went for the nearby area.  Emma had holed up in a basement with a stockpile of food, drink, and an enchantment circle that had eaten up the resources she¡¯d been getting back together, as well as the mana she¡¯d been painstakingly stockpiling.  It had ensured that the soldiers and agents that had searched the town had never spotted her, but it had left her dangerously low on resources.

    Still, as they had found nothing the government agents had elected to simply cordon the area off and set a small group of soldiers to watch the place and report back to them if anything happened.  These were mere ordinary mortals, not even equipped with any sort of magical protection.  It had been easy enough for her to avoid their notice, and for the last couple of days, things had been going more or less how she wanted them to.  She¡¯d stayed out of the way of the soldiers, kept an eye on the Sanctuary, and monitored the general area.

    It was quiet and unexciting work, but that was fine for her.  It was relaxing, and she knew that this was the calm before the oncoming storm.  The lack of activity also meant that she was able to devote some time to trying to reduce her scales.  Given that she hadn¡¯t needed to do any magical ¡®heavy lifting¡¯ since breaking into the Sanctuary, she¡¯d been able to prevent the growth of more of the pale reptilian skin.  After all, her concealments were more about control than power. The spot that she had worked on before was still painfully burnt, and the white scales had returned, though the size of the patch had shrunk back to its original size.

    She¡¯d been frustrated that she hadn¡¯t been able to eliminate them completely, but undoing the growth that straining her power had caused was at least something.  However, the meagre resources and magic that she¡¯d expended had left her largely bereft of power.  She¡¯d been counting on plenty of time to restore her small reserves before having to deal with anything else.  Unfortunately, her luck hadn¡¯t held because as she¡¯d crept around the deserted town she¡¯d caught a faint whiff of sulphur.

    The scent hadn¡¯t been purely physical though, it had a spiritual component to it too, one that she recognized all too well.  It was weak, but it was unmistakably the scent of the Deeper Hells.

    She¡¯d immediately made her way out of the basement and tried to get a better grasp on the situation, all while being as stealthy as she could manage.  It hadn¡¯t taken her long to find the soldiers that had been watching the area, or at least what was left of them.  The external wounds they suffered had been relatively minor, little more than the scratches one would expect from an angry cat.  However, when she examined the corpses she found them soft, as though their bones and internal organs had been melted into pulp.

    There were five such bodies, and none of them showed signs of a struggle.  They had been taken down either by stealth, or they¡¯d somehow been immobilized before their attacker cut them.  The scent was upon them though, and it was still faint as ever.

    That gave her hope.  It wasn¡¯t an ironclad rule, but generally the stronger a demon or devil the more they would contaminate their environment simply by existing upon it.  The smells of sulphur and brimstone were the commonest signs of that contamination.  As such, the stronger the scent the stronger the being.

    She¡¯d begun to search for the creature, certain that it was still around.  The bodies were too fresh for it to have left them too long ago.  And she was sure that any being that had found its way here would take their time scouting the town before moving on.

    Finding the demonic killer wasn¡¯t difficult, he was hardly making any efforts to conceal himself, no doubt thinking that with the guards dead the town was deserted.  Emma had spied him before ducking back around a corner.  The brief glimpse was of a figure with inhumanly red skin and short stubby horns growing from his temples enough to let her know what she was dealing with.

    This wasn¡¯t a demon, but rather a devil.  Fortunately, it seemed he was only a minor one.

    The difference between devils and demons was often blurred, but there were distinct differences between the two main races of the Deeper Hells.  It could be complicated, but ultimately it came down to their basic alignment.  Both of them were evil, taking delight in the pain and suffering of others.  Both of them sought to corrupt and despoil, and both sought to destroy and ravage.  The difference was in how they approached it.

    Demons were creatures of havoc and excess, in battle they were almost animalistic, all fury and savagery, in corruption they offered the chance to drown in the sins of the flesh, gorging upon lust and gluttony.  Even when torturing the immortal souls condemned to hell, they were unbridled, often tearing the soul apart, forcing it back together, and then doing it again.

    By contrast, devils were more restrained, acting with discipline and focus.  When they fought it was in the trained and refined method that even angels would grudgingly acknowledge.  When they corrupted they offered complicated deals that slowly drew their victims deeper into nets and pitfalls of sin.  Their tortures were more measured and subtle, mental and spiritual as well as ¡®physical¡¯, slowly grinding down resistance and hope.

    The fact that she was dealing with a devil was both a good and a bad thing.  On the whole, devils were slightly weaker than a demon of the same rank would be, but by the same token a devil was smarter than an equivalent demon, and in the current situation she feared brains over brawn.

    Now she knew what she was faced with, and she knew that she couldn¡¯t just hide from this.

    A minor devil was normally one of the lowest of the low in hell, below even the cannon fodder foot soldiers that made up the vast bulk of the legions of hell.  They were the kinds of demons that were summoned up by the penny ante casters, stupid children with a lick of innate power that tried their hands at demonic magic or desperate and bitter old people seeking a chance to regain their lost youth.  They lacked the power to grant any truly grand wishes, but they could dabble in petty revenge and cheap thrills, the sort of thing that could get the stupid or the unwary to go deeper down the rabbit hole.

    Quite simply, if hell was a criminal organization, then these guys were the equivalent of bottom-rung drug dealers who hung out near poorer schools and tried to offer one free hit of badly cut drugs to rebellious and reckless teenagers.

    Still, it was an immortal being and it had power of its own.  Weakness tended to breed unexpected talents now and then, and Emma had been willing to bet that this one hadn¡¯t appeared here due to blind coincidence.

    She¡¯d managed to catch more glimpses of him as he made his way around the town.  He was looking for something, but he wasn¡¯t doing it with his eyes.  In the reflections of windows and other glass, she caught sight of him closing his pitch-black eyes, bowing his head and seeming to focus.  He wasn¡¯t making any effort to hide himself, so she could easily sense him channelling power through his small horns and casting a web of energy onto the world around him.  At first, she¡¯d been terrified that he might be trying to find her, but then she¡¯d realized the nets of power weren¡¯t meant for her.  Her protection was enough to keep her unnoticed so long as she didn¡¯t attract any attention.  Rather, the energy construct was letting the devil ¡®taste¡¯ the ambient mana of the area.

    She guessed that this devil was gifted with some sort of mana sensitivity.  That had probably been what had allowed him to zero in on this point, despite the lack of any mana remnant from the Awakening.  The Hallowed Sanctuary had been set up over the epicentre of the flare, meaning that the truly affected areas had been under its concealment.  That should have left nothing for the devil to sense.  Unless . . .

    It had been at that point that she¡¯d realized he was slowly moving across town almost in a straight line towards the farmstead hidden by the Hallowed Sanctuary!

    That was when she knew she had run out of options.  If she wanted to keep to her plan then she was going to have to eliminate this interloper, and the sooner the better.  Weak though the devil might be he was still many times tougher than any being of mere flesh or blood.  Emma had other options available though, and as limited as she currently was, she still had more power than any regular mortal.

    That was what led to her current situation, hiding in an alley, using a stinking rubbish bin as cover while she tried to lay an ambush.

    Under other circumstances, she wouldn¡¯t have dared try this, but there were a few factors in her favour.  Firstly, the devil was of the weakest breed.  Secondly, the devil was unwary, convinced that the town was now empty.  Lastly, she knew its kind, knew their strengths and weak spots.

    Still, she had no choice.  The Hallowed Sanctuary was a powerful spell, near flawless and strong enough to hold back armies.  However, as she had proven, almost flawless wasn¡¯t the same thing as completely flawless.  Its greatest strength was in its stealth, in not being found in the first place.  If this devil was able to track it down and report back to his superiors, then . . . No!  She would not allow it!

    This scout must never report back!  Dealing with him might only delay the inevitable, but that delay might just be enough.

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    At a guess, she¡¯d imagine that this devil was hoping to find something of value to buy his way into favour with one of the higher-ups, or at least Emma hoped so.  He looked like he had not yet found enough to guarantee his safety from irritated overlords.  Meaning he could die without drawing attention.

    Her thoughts paused as she heard the approach of his footsteps.  Good, she¡¯d chosen correctly.  Getting ahead of the devil had been something of a gamble, given how his path did meander even if it did go in the same general direction.  He might have chosen a different street, then cut across to regain his original direction and bypass her entirely.  But here he was.

    Step, step.

    He was getting closer now, still down the road, but every step brought him nearer.

    Step, step.

    Emma did her best to keep her breath shallow and quiet.  Beneath her she felt her muscles bunch, tensing for action to come, but she forced them to relax.  She didn¡¯t want to strain them, and it would still be some time until he passed by the mouth of the alley.

    Step, step.

    With a last glance around her, she crouched behind the refuse bin, doing her best to ignore the scent of rotting food and rancid fat.

    Step, step.

    Her tongue ran across suddenly dry lips, a faint prickle of sweat breaking out across her back.

    Step . . .

    He¡¯d stopped?  Why had he stopped!?  Had he noticed her?  Had he suspected something?  Emma could feel her heart thumping in her chest and hear the blood rushing in her ears as her mind raced.  Should she rush out?  Should she wait?  Taking another deep breath, laden with the scent of refuse, she tried to calm down.  Rational thought was her ally, panic and hesitation her foes.  Why had he paused?  Probably for the same reason he had so many times before, he was stopping to take another scan, trying to orient himself again.

    Step . . . step, step.

    Yes!  He was moving again, coming closer just as she¡¯d hoped!

    Step, step.

    Step, step.

    Step, step.

    The light coming into the alley was momentarily obscured as someone moved past it.  Alright, now or never!

    Stealth, at least without the use of magic, wasn¡¯t something that Emma would have normally risked.  Through the centuries she¡¯d avoided violence wherever she could, always seeking to slip away rather than risk any sort of confrontation.  Such actions weren¡¯t due to cowardice.  She didn¡¯t fear conflict because she would lose or be hurt, rather it was because she feared her own strength.  She kept her power sealed to ensure her own anonymity.  She knew that if she used the might she kept hidden then it would blaze up in a beacon to draw in those she knew still hunted for her.

    Taking care to be as silent as she could she stepped out of the alley.  Her feet, now devoid of shoes, were quiet as a cat¡¯s tread.  Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears though.

    The devil was just in front of her now, and she was surprised to note that she was actually taller than him by a couple of inches.

    Something must have given her away as she got closer.  The devil stiffened and began to turn.  It was too late though!  An unfamiliar surge of adrenaline shot through her bloodstream as she moved with the turn, keeping behind him even as the loop of cord she gripped between her fists encircled his neck.

    ¡°HURK-¡±

    Anything he might have said was cut off as the cord came tight, cutting into his throat and choking his voice.  This wasn¡¯t anything as subtle as an attempted strangulation, Emma was doing her level best to snap his neck if she could manage it!

    The devil struggled, but for those precious few seconds at the beginning he panicked, and she ruthlessly exploited that advantage as much as she could.  With a shove to his back, she slammed him into the wall of the building next to the alley.  The impact would have left a human dazed, maybe even broken some bones, but to a devil it was nothing.  That didn¡¯t matter though, since injuring him hadn¡¯t been her intent.

    A savage smile touched her face as she saw that the devil¡¯s right arm was caught between himself and the building, his own body pinning it in place as she pressed him there.  He tried to push free, but she held him there, despite his best efforts as she kept pulling on the cord.

    His left hand finally came back, his fingers tipped with talons rather than fingernails, talons that visibly dripped a viscous liquid.  It didn¡¯t take a genius to work out what it might be, given how the guards died.  She leaned to the side, staying out of reach, even as she kept all the pressure she could on the cord, pressing into him with her elbows.

    The devil couldn¡¯t push her off, limited as she was, he was still weaker.  That explained the poison and the sensitivity, he was a type she knew.  He¡¯d come into being weaker than most but had possessed a certain malleability with his power as a result.  He¡¯d grown his power to compensate for his weakness as best he could.  Increased sensitivity to the flows of magic, so he could sense the strong from a distance to avoid them, and feel the weak so he could hunt them.  Claws with surprisingly potent poisons, so he could end any attack swiftly, or inflict a single wound, then retreat and let the venom do its work while he was safe.  He was dangerous, but not like this, not when he was caught off guard.

    Sweat broke out on her brow and her arms began to ache, but she didn¡¯t dare to let up.  All it would take was one mistake, one scratch, one slip of her balance, and she¡¯d be dead!  His struggles were growing frenzied now, his left arm thrashing about as it tried to reach her, his body trying to buck her off even as she relentlessly pressed in.  She could imagine his face, even though she couldn¡¯t see it.  He was probably goggle-eyed, not understanding how what he thought was a mortal was doing this to him.  Her strength was mortal, and as far as he knew her cord was mortal, so why was it cutting into his throat?  Why was it cutting off his breath?  Why was it killing him?

    Emma bared her teeth and continued to strain.  Yes, she was sealed and denied the vast majority of the power she once held, but that didn¡¯t change WHAT she was!  She was a being that had existed when the first stars had been ignited, who had faced the first of the primal gods when they came crawling out of the remnants of the abyss.  She was immortal in a way that only the greater divinities were.  Even as a pale shadow of what she¡¯d once been she had power, subtle power.

    A mortal couldn¡¯t kill a devil like this, it simply wasn¡¯t possible.  The simple act of choking them couldn¡¯t break their immortality, even if the hell being was physically overpowered.  A mortal simply didn¡¯t have enough weight in reality to enforce the lethality of the act.  After all, a devil was a being of hell, they didn¡¯t actually need to breathe.  A mortal could hold a devil down and choke it all day, but it wouldn¡¯t be enough to kill them, not without special measures.

    The cord wasn¡¯t a normal one.  It was one that she¡¯d painstakingly been weaving for well over a year, a metre-long cord made of the most unexpected material.

    Spider silk.

    As far as reagents went a spider¡¯s web was about as rock-bottom common as you could get.  It was a natural mana conductor, possessed useful preservative properties, and was easy to get hold of.  A great many of the simpler spells and potions that beginners in the use of magic employed used them as a key component.  Of course, its fragility limited its usefulness, despite the comparable strength it possessed.  Mortals could harvest and use the silk to create fabrics, but it was an absurdly difficult task.

    Emma had some advantages though.  She could force a spider to do more or less anything she wanted.  Unfortunately, even with some reagents to focus her meagre power she could only control three or four at a time, and even then, not for all that long.  As such the weaving of her cord had become something of a hobby, rather than a serious task.  On those evenings when she found herself with little to do and some scraps of power to spare, she¡¯d take control of some nearby spiders and work on improving the cord.  Honestly, she¡¯d been somewhat surprised when she had finally finished it.

    Still, the cord had been useful and had been one of the few reagents that she hadn¡¯t had to expend in the last couple of weeks, something she was thankful for.

    The length of spider silk made for an excellent conductor of her nature, acting as a weapon that took on her existential weight as a greater being, despite how suppressed she was.  In her hands it was choking the devil, not simply cutting off his breath, but literally binding his being and choking it off!  She could feel his panic, his increasing desperation, as he fought against her.  His legs kicked, his free arm flailed wildly, even his head thrashed around in ways that would have broken a mortal neck, trying to dislodge her.

    None of it worked though.  She¡¯d made the right move, calling upon old skills that though rusty were still keen.  She was in the sweet spot, positioned just right so he couldn¡¯t reach her.  Maybe if he had more time to work with he could have done something, but she could feel the pressure growing, the devil¡¯s existence fighting against her constriction and failing.

    The devil was almost having a fit now, all semblance of humanity having fled him as he screamed into the bricks his face was pressed into.  Emma was sure that she saw one of the bricks begin to melt but paid it no mind.  Just a bit more . . .  Just a bit more . . .

    With an audible snap, she felt something give!

    The body she¡¯d been struggling against went limp, slumping bonelessly to the pavement.  She kept up the pressure though, refusing to take the chance that this was a trick.  It was only when she saw small grains of red sand falling away from the edges of his body and then fading away she relented.

    Before her eyes the crumbling accelerated, the whole form before her collapsing into dully glowing red sand that in turn faded away into nothingness.  Emma waited until the last grain had faded away, then collapsed against the very wall she¡¯d been holding the demon against.  Uncaring of the dirty bricks marring her clothes she let her back slide down it until she was sat upon the pavement and leaning back against the wall.  In her chest, her heart still hammered, but it was slowly beginning to calm down.

    Dead, the devil was dead.  Not the simple death of just the destruction of its body, but rather the final death, that of the destruction of the soul.

    That was an advantage that the weaker creatures of hell possessed.  Under normal circumstances when their bodies were destroyed their souls would survive.  The body wasn¡¯t a true vessel, such as mortals and angels possessed.  Rather it was a relatively simple construct that was inhabited by the mind and soul of the hell being.  When it was destroyed then the essence of the being would be weakened, unable to remain upon a plane where it didn¡¯t belong, and would be pressed back to the Deeper Hells.  It was a natural process, as much a part of the universe as the influence of gravity.

    For the hell beings, it was not a pleasant experience, and it did cost them in power, time and effort, and it wasn¡¯t infallible.  It did, however, allow them to survive what should kill them though.  It was only the lower rank and file of the legions of hell that enjoyed such an ability, when one grew more powerful that same strength cost them the ability to cheat death.

    What she¡¯d done . . . it had been hard, on her body at least.  She could feel muscles beginning to complain about the strain placed on them, feel the sting about her hands where the taunt cord had dug into them.  Yet there was also a strange sort of wild satisfaction!  The knowledge that she had fought a dangerous foe and dealt with them through cunning and ruthlessness.  It was absurd, that she should feel such pleasure for an act that would have once been so trivial for her, but there it was.

    Feeling the adrenaline in her bloodstream beginning to fade, Emma slowly clambered to her feet and began to make her way back to the basement she¡¯d been staying in.  Right now, she had to think about how things had changed.  Yes, she¡¯d managed to keep the devil from finding the Sanctuary and reporting it, and that was important.  But the death of the guards wasn¡¯t something she could just brush off.  Their superiors would soon become aware of their disappearance, even if she took their bodies and hid them away.  That would be enough to draw attention.

    There was no chance of them finding the Hallowed Sanctuary, of that she was confident.  But the taint of hellish energies that had been released by the devil¡¯s death was another matter entirely.  They might not know exactly what they were, but they¡¯d be able to sense them. If she could have removed them then she would have done so.  But as things stood that wasn¡¯t an option.  So the spot would attract more attention, and that didn¡¯t leave her in a good position.

    More and more governments of the world were doing their best to get some sort of supernatural muscle on their side, and that included lavish offers of money, property, and any other incentive they could provide.  Emma had been keeping an eye on the news, and there had been a report that two new demigods had agreed to act as government agents.

    So far there had been a lockdown on their information, but their existence alone was a boost to public opinion in the government.  If one of them was a magic user or gifted in scrying or searching, then things might get tough for her.

    This would not look good for her, some unknown hiding in the town where several personnel had recently been found dead.

    Honestly, she wasn¡¯t too certain of what would happen if she were to be gunned down.  Perhaps she really would die, due to her power being sealed.  Or perhaps those seals would come undone as her life force weakened, causing her full power to be unleashed.  Either outcome was one she wanted to avoid at all costs.

    Damn it!  She was going to have to leave and move to the nearest town.  It wasn¡¯t ideal, she wasn¡¯t comfortable being so far off, but if she was careful and with a bit of luck then she¡¯d be able to monitor the general area just as well.  It might be a bit more costly in magic than she would have preferred, but there were ways around that.

    Sighing again she started making mental preparations to leave, trying to work out just how much she could carry with her when she left, and just what she could afford to leave behind.  She was so engrossed in such thoughts that she didn¡¯t notice it when she reached up to scratch her back and her nails ran across something harder than skin.  Had she been paying more attention then she would have realized what it was.

    A small patch, barely the size of a small thumbnail, of white scales just above her shoulder blade.

 Chapter 5: Wonder and Horror: Part One

    Chapter 5: Wonder and Horror

    The sun was shining, the air was warm, a soft breeze blew and small clouds dotted the blue sky.  All in all, it was about as close to the ideal summer day as I could have imagined.  But this wasn¡¯t the main reason for my good mood.  No, it was something else that had me grinning like a loon.

    Namely, magic was AWESOME!

    I was hovering ten feet off the ground, fire licking about my left hand in a circle while my right was extended to a medium-sized tree trunk that was floating in the air before me, dirt clumps still falling from its roots.  I wasn¡¯t too sure just how much the tree weighed, but I was willing to bet that it was at least as much as a small car!  And I was lifting it with just my magic!

    It had been about a week since I¡¯d got my halo working, and it had been one hell of a week, as far as my magic and powers went.

    Once I regained consciousness, and taken some time to recover, I got a crash course on how most angels had some sort of elemental alignment that was natural to them.  Hadriel was tuned into lightning while Joan, even in her mortal form, was attuned to light.  And since Joan had been mortal she was in charge of my training.

    As it turned out she didn¡¯t really have to do all that much.  Joan¡¯s first lesson had been to teach me how to connect with my magic and bring it out of my body to affect the world around me.  That had been the difficult part, as the magical energy hadn¡¯t wanted to move away from me.  We weren¡¯t too sure why, but it seemed that mana and other ambient magic didn¡¯t flow away from me as they normally would with a mortal mage, instead, it seemed to prefer to stay close, or even drift towards me. It had thrown her off a bit, but in the end, all it needed was a bit more effort from me to get the magic to go where I wanted, something that became second nature fairly quickly.

    After I got the trick down she started to teach me how to bring out my elemental affinity, and that was where things got interesting.

    The way she described it I should be able to ¡®reach into¡¯ the magic I was releasing and ¡®pull out¡¯ my affinity.  She said that the nature of the affinity within the magic was variable between users, but the most common manifestation was as a stream of colour that I could lock onto.  She warned me that simply grasping my affinity was the easy part, actually using it was going to be trickier.  So, I followed her instructions and reached into my magic, only to find something that I thought was awesome.  When I mentally reached out to the magic it was easy to send my will into it and find something to latch onto, but I didn¡¯t find just one colour in there . . .

    I found all of them!

    Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, violet, the whole rainbow!  Not just that though there were other colours in there too, black, brown, white, grey, every shade and hue that could be imagined was in there, and it was all connected to my magic!

    When I told Joan she was impressed, but not surprised, which made me curious.  She told me she¡¯d been expecting something like that due to all the elemental forces that seemed to manifest at random around me when I got my halo.

    Those first few days were fun, loads of fun!  I found I was good at manipulating raw magic, the energy responded to my will easily.  It was when I tried to use that energy to manipulate elements that things got challenging.  So far, I hadn¡¯t found any element I couldn¡¯t connect to, but my wide affinity came at a cost in strength.  I could use the elements, but so far I was very limited in the raw power I could put behind that manipulation.  Joan told me not to worry about that though, as the rest of my powers grew so would my magic, and for the time being I should focus on the utility of so many options, and concern myself with raw power later.

    As things stood, I could cause small arcs of electricity to play around my hands, it wasn¡¯t lightning, but I was pretty sure it would make for an effective touch taser if I ever needed it to.  The same was true of my use of ice.  For the time being, it was limited to my hands, where I could gather the magic after pulling out the ¡®ice blue¡¯, as I thought of it.  My hands would get covered in this blue/white aura that made the air around them icy and froze the things I touched.  I wasn¡¯t too sure how effective it would be in combat, but I could freeze a whole bucket of water in only a few seconds.

    It was like that with all the other elements as well, even if they weren¡¯t things that I would have normally defined as an ¡®element¡¯ in and of themselves.  With plants, I could accelerate their growth and ensure that they grew large and healthy.  With the weather, I could make it lightly drizzle at my command and then disperse just as easily.  My abilities with air were able to produce strong gusts of wind able to knock someone over by waving a hand or blowing air from my mouth.  They were all at a level that was useful if I used them smartly.

    Of course, not all of my elements were so limited, several of them were a bit more ¡®front-loaded¡¯ and could be used offensively to start with.

    Fire for example.  So far, I could generate small flames on each of my fingers, or igniting such flames at a distance.  But once there was fire in existence I could mentally move and shape it with ease.  Even better, the fire I took control of seemed to be self-sustaining, not needing any fuel but my magic to keep burning.

    Earth and water were also useful elements, even though I couldn¡¯t produce any with my magic, only use what was already there.

    Still, for all the minor inconveniences that accompanied them each of the elements had interesting combat uses.  Earth I couldn¡¯t move around in any great amount, only a few hundred pounds at most, but what I could move I could move with surprising force, hurling rocks around like controlled cannonballs.  Water was less forceful but more responsive.  As with earth, I could only move a limited amount, something like a large barrelful.  But what I could move I could move with finesse.  In terms of pure force, it could hit like a riot hose, but the scary part was that I could encircle someone¡¯s head in water and drown them on dry land if I wanted

    Also, I¡¯d found that attuning myself to all those elements gave me other benefits.  I was now fire-resistant and I also wasn¡¯t as bothered by the cold as much.  I noticed an instinctive knowledge of what the weather would be like over the next few days, a sense of the electricity running through the wires in the walls, being able to see much clearer in the dark, and not being blinded by staring at the sun.  It was thrilling to discover even such minor advantages, and I was sure there would be more to come.

    However, it wasn¡¯t the elements that had proven to be my favourite form of magic.  It was what I thought of as ¡®colourless¡¯ magic, power without any elemental affinity at all.

    According to Joan this form of magic was one of the most common in the world and was known by many names.  Basically it was highly processed mana that had been infused with just my willpower.  As a result, it was arguably the ¡®purest¡¯ form of magic, raw mana directed by the mind and as a result was highly flexible.

    This form of magic manifested in many different ways, such as mind reading, mind over matter, protective auras, clairvoyance, stuff normally associated with psychic powers.  There was a lot of crossover, with the use elemental magic.  But arcana, which was one of the names for it and the one I liked the most as it was shorthand for ¡®arcane mana¡¯, was generally far broader in its utility.

    Case in point, I was using it to levitate a tree that I¡¯d just ripped out of the earth, and it was awesome!

    Telekinesis, or TK as I thought of it for short, was fun to use!  So far it was my best power, responsive, controlled, and pretty strong.  It had quickly become my go-to magic, being both useful and powerful.

    I¡¯d started using arcana after I finished getting a basic handle on my elemental powers, and at first, I¡¯d thought it to be kind of a needless extra.  I mean, why would I want to use telekinesis to move around stones or liquid when I could do the job with earth or water magic?  When I moved around stones, pebbles, or even sand, with earth magic I was in control of every single piece, my magic somehow letting me make a whole of the pieces even as I was able to control those pieces.  Water magic let me not only move the water under my control, but also shape it, divide it, or remerge it as I saw fit with absurd ease.

    By contrast, arcana telekinesis was all external manipulation, colder, almost machine-like, and not as potent or precise as a direct elemental connection.  If I had to describe it then I¡¯d have said that arcana was more akin to being able to reach out and pick something up with phantom limbs, while elemental control was turning the thing I wished to manipulate into a new limb.

    So, at first, I thought arcana was nothing but a poor substitute, but I soon found a difference, arcana telekinesis possessed much greater reach and could lift more weight and volume.  Fine control was possible, but it was when it came to exerting force and moving the big stuff about that it really shone! Well, that and personal defences.

    I¡¯d learnt that mainly by accident, but it was a pleasant surprise.  By focusing my arcana in front of me I could use the same force that let me move things about to make a repelling force against attacks.  These shields were pretty tough, enough that it took a near to full-force blow from Hadriel to break them.  And I¡¯d seen a similar blow turn a tree trunk more than a foot thick into sawdust in an instant.

    Offensively arcana-based telekinesis had a considerable number of options to choose from.

    For starters, there was telekinetically throwing stuff at an enemy.  Given that I was pretty sure I could throw something like a car with a similar ease to throwing a tennis ball that translated to me being able to put a lot of ¡®oomph¡¯ behind the things I used.  I¡¯d experimented with the various stuff around the farmstead, such as rocks, logs, and even a few leftover bits of equipment.  I might not be able to match the accuracy and force of earth magic when using stones, but when it came to a broken fridge or a rusting tractor the results were satisfying.

    I could also attack was with blasts of pure force.  Those were a bit tricky to control since the force of the attack spread out as soon as I launched it, dissipating quickly.  That was only iuseful at short-range, so I¡¯d worked trying to see if I could fix it.  In the end, I managed to contain the energy attack within a thin shell about the size of a football that I could then launch once ready.  There were still kinks, since it took me a few seconds to construct it and charge it up, and it was a bit slow when compared to the energy attacks that I¡¯d seen Hadriel and Joan use.

    Theirs were almost literally lightning quick, while my TK ball was only about as swift as an arrow.  Still, it did have a couple of advantages.  I could control its path even after I launched it, so I could make it home in on targets that had dodged it, or even avoid attacks that tried to intercept it.  Another plus was that, at least according to Hadriel, when it did hit it hit like a demon berserker.

    The fact that when I charged and launched it the most comfortable pose bore a strong resemblance to certain iconic Japanese streetfighter was pure coincidence.

    I swear!

    Though if I were to, by complete chance of course, shout ¡®Hadouken¡¯ when I launched it . . . well, I¡¯m sure nobody could really blame me.

    Another option was using telekinesis directly on a living target, and this turned out to be the most unreliable method.  When it came to hitting an enemy with something I¡¯d lifted or just raw force then it was a match between whatever power I was using and their defences, nice and straightforward.  But trying to use arcana directly upon a living being was when things got a bit more complicated.  Living things, things with their own ¡®power¡¯, resisted it, instinctively repelled it with the aura of their own life force.  This made it harder to get a grip on them, and the stronger the lifeform I was trying it on the harder it became.

    Using it on plants was pretty easy, though they had life in them it wasn¡¯t empowered by any sort of will, so there wasn¡¯t too much resistance.  If picking up a normal rock was as easy as picking up a spoon then picking up a plant of the same weight was like picking up a slightly greasy spoon.  It wasn¡¯t heavier, but it was just a little bit more difficult, my ¡®grip¡¯ having just a bit less traction to it.  I¡¯d also tried it on a few animals, just birds and squirrels that I¡¯d spotted at a distance, the results with them were pretty much the same, though the ¡®greasiness¡¯ of their auras was more pronounced.

    Trying to get a grip on either Joan or Hadriel had been an . . . experience.  Rather than just being hard to get a grip on, their auras had been actively fighting against me, and that was when they were just passively standing there.  As soon as they used their powers, or moved to actively resist, then it was as though their auras began to tear into my energies, shredding them to pieces.  I could make it more difficult for them if I concentrated and used more power to bolster my telekinesis, but that only meant it took them a full second to shred it as opposed to half of one.  According to Hadriel it was a simple result of having power and was a property that all immortals and beings of power possessed.

    Ultimately, it meant that there was a good chance I could do a decent Darth Vader Force Choke against any regular people and even some magic users, not that I would, it was just an option..  But against anyone with any real power, I was better off trying to beat them through the more traditional methods, such a bludgeoning them with large objects until they stopped moving.

    In all truth, I hadn¡¯t expected the last few days to have been as exhilarating as they had turned out to be.  When I¡¯d agreed to come here with Joan it had been a decision mainly motivated by fear.  She¡¯d told me I was going to get power, and I¡¯d been swamped by thoughts of what the worst that could happen could be.  Then there¡¯d been the whole thing about this being a mission from God, as in the capital ¡®G¡¯!  Joan had managed to keep me from imploding while I got a handle on things, but I¡¯d still been feeling more than a bit frayed around the edges.

    That was why finally getting some power, real power, felt so good.  It let me feel as though I wasn¡¯t helpless, as though I could build myself up into someone who could survive and maybe even thrive.  So it was hardly a surprise I¡¯d thrown myself into practising as hard as I could with my new magic.

    All of that led to my current exciting experiment.

    The flames around my left hand grew, lengthening until they formed a cylinder around my arm, reaching from the back of my wrist down to just above my elbow.  I could feel the heat on my bare skin since I was shirtless again, but it didn¡¯t burn me.  I¡¯d learnt to take care though, as long as I didn¡¯t push it too hard while it was too close then I could handle it.  Small flames were constantly emerging from my fingertips, feeding the cylinder and letting it slowly grow, all the while keeping it spinning.  My goal was to increase both the spin and the size until I had a large hoop of flames rotating around my hand.

    And as I was doing this I kept up my use of arcana telekinesis on the tree, levitating the trunk several feet off the ground while stripping the branches off one by one until only the trunk was left.  It wasn¡¯t easy, using two different types of magic at once, but it was something that I was determined to crack.

    One thing that I¡¯d learnt was that using multiple types of magic at the same time was hard!  Arcana was my best option so far, given how potent and responsive it was, but the versatility of the sheer number of elements I could work with was too great to ignore.  At first, I¡¯d simply used one at a time as I tried to get a better grip on just what I could do with them  But after a bit, I began to wonder about what combining them could do to overcome their limitations.

    It wasn¡¯t so easy though.  My first attempt was to try to combine wind with ice.  I could only generate cold around my hands, but I could also create gusts of wind from them. It made sense that combining the two would overcome the weaknesses of each.  Ice was strong but limited in reach, while the wind had reach but was lacking in power.  But if you could put them together . . . well, I was having visions of arctic winds that froze my foes in place from a distance.

    I had other ideas too, earth and fire to make lava, weather and lightning to make cataclysmic thunderstorms.  Maybe even earth and wind to make the sort of sandstorms that were the stuff of nightmares.  So many ideas.

    I ended up being too ambitious.

    I learnt that the hard way when the mixture of air and ice mana I¡¯d been holding exploded and more or less flash-froze the top layer of my skin over both my hands and forearms.  As Joan explained it to me later, when she was helping me regrow the ruined skin, merging elements was possible.  However, for someone like me, who had only just started to manipulate them, it was like trying to play a piano concerto after having just learnt to play ¡®Three Blind Mice¡¯.  It was just too much.

    So, elemental combination wasn¡¯t really an option any time soon, and the majority of my elemental powers were of limited use on their own until they grew stronger.  At that point it seemed that arcana was the best path I could follow, so I started honing my telekinesis as much as I could, and using the elements to supplement it.  But that had its own problems.

    You see, arcana and elemental magic didn¡¯t get on so well.  Fortunately, I had a little helper floating over my head, one that made balancing the conflicting magics a whole lot easier.  When I¡¯d asked Hadriel about it she¡¯d told me that while using two different elements at the same time was like wielding two similar weapons at once, using elemental magic and arcana simultaneously was more akin to drawing a picture with each hand at the same time, and they were pretty different pictures too.  My halo let me cheat some, but even so, it was not easy, hence my current efforts.

    Fire was one of the elements I found easier to control while using arcana, possibly due to them both being more or less pure energy manipulation.  What I was doing, trying to form a ring of fire, was normally easy enough to do.  I just fed fire into the cylinder and then pushed and condensed it until it formed the ring.  From there I could just keep it spinning around my wrist until I was ready to release the stored flames in a single attack.  Granted, it wasn¡¯t the powerful long-range fireball I would have preferred, but even as limited to short-range as it was it was still fairly effective.

    While using arcana though, it wasn¡¯t so easy to handle, and that was what I was working on.

    Bit by bit I continued to feed the fire, keeping up the condensation and the rotation as I used my TK to continue to strip off the branches from the tree trunk.   There were only a few more left, all I had to do was clean off the last ones at the top and then-

    FFFSSSSHHHH!

    With a sound not unlike pressurized gas escaping an air tank a long gout of fire shot out of the side of the cylinder as a jet of fire shot out of the side as my concentration slipped.  It was a small thing, just my focusing on one particularly stubborn branch that didn¡¯t want to come off cleanly, but it was enough.  The jet of released fire was directed away from me, but that was small comfort as I watched my efforts collapse.  Like a balloon that had sprung a leak, the cylinder of flames seemed to almost deflate, dissolving into wildly flickering flames dancing about my arm.

    Damn it!

    In frustration, I reached out with my arcana and snapped the trunk in two as though it were a twig.  That wasn¡¯t too hard, I just had to apply force at two points in the right direction and keep it up until the wood couldn¡¯t resist any more.  The explosive crack, as the trunk broke in a spray of splinters, was actually kind of satisfying.  Splitting my focus, I repeated the process upon the two halves of the trunk, breaking it into four, then again on the quarters remaining, breaking it into eight sections.

    This . . . this wasn¡¯t a problem, I could easily divide my attention between the parts being manipulated by my magic as easily as I could ride a bike!  Letting out a hiss of frustration I lowered myself to the ground, the broken remains of the tree piling themselves up into a neat little pile, the broken-off branches and foliage moving themselves into a second heap nearby.  Maybe later I could use them for a bonfire.  And I think I¡¯d seen a packet of marshmallows in one of the cupboards in the kitchen . . .

    Then I remembered that I couldn¡¯t taste anything anymore.

    Damn it!

    ¡°Come now, Adam, surely it cannot be so bad!¡±

    Joan¡¯s voice sounded from behind me, and I felt a wry smile touch my lips as I turned to face her.  Her presence might not be able to completely dispel the dark mood I felt trying to settle on me, but it did manage to lighten it some.

    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I replied. ¡°But it¡¯s . . . frustrating, you know?  I¡¯m trying to get this down and I can¡¯t seem to get it to work!¡±

    She stepped forward, her armour-clad hand resting on my shoulder.  She went about in her armour more often than not, and it was no longer as intimidating as it had been when we first met.

    ¡°Adam, you have already achieved in days what even gifted mortals would struggle for years to learn.  It is good that you are not merely content with the power that you have.  It is good that you are willing to push your limits and strive for more.  But at the same time, you should not be unrealistic with yourself.  Your halo is a great aid, but what you seek is one of the highest skills to achieve.  Mastery of both elemental and arcane magic will not come easily to you, but do not doubt that it will come in time!¡±

    She paused, stepping back and letting a smile spread across her face.

    ¡°Now, I know that your mastery of your arcane magic has been progressing well.  What say you to a sparring match?  There shall be no restriction upon our use of magic, nor shall there be a restraint upon our movements or weapons.  Let us see how far you have come, shall we?¡±

    That took me by surprise.  There hadn¡¯t been any sparring over the last week, not since I¡¯d managed to finally get a grip on my magic.  The closest we¡¯d come had been my aerial games of tag with Hadriel, and that had only been because she¡¯d wanted me to try to use my TK while in full flight.  It had been a good practice opportunity, but all she¡¯d been doing was trying to evade me, there¡¯d been no attempt on her part to fight back.

    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s okay?¡± I asked. ¡°I haven¡¯t tried to use this in a fight yet, you could get hurt.¡±

    But, it seemed that Joan wasn¡¯t quite as concerned as I was, because she let out a small chuckle as she drew one of the wooden swords that I¡¯d come to know and loath over the last few weeks.

    ¡°Your concern is appreciated, Adam, but do not forget to whom you speak.  I have been training with battle-hardened angels for centuries, you shall not find me to be easy prey.  And even if you were to succeed in striking me, do not think I shall be fragile.  One forged in the warrior schools of the High Heavens does not emerge from them intact unless they are . . . durable.¡±

    It could have sounded arrogant, but coming from Joan it was just earnest.  She was stating the facts so that I had nothing to worry about.  What could I do in the face of that other than agree?

    ¡°Excellent!¡± Joan beamed as she settled into a loose combat stance. ¡°I shall attack you with moderate force so that you can take some time to adjust, then I shall increase the amount of force and skill I shall bring to bear until we have a better idea of where your limitations and strengths are.¡±

    I nodded in agreement, then frowned as a thought occurred to me.

    ¡°Hey, Joan, you¡¯re going to be using that sword, right?¡± I gestured to the wooden weapon she held, then continued when she nodded. ¡°So . . . don¡¯t I get one?¡±

    The smile that touched her lips then was not the friendly one that I¡¯d seen before, rather it was something with considerably more edge to it, a predatory smile.

    ¡°Oh, most certainly.¡±

    I paused for a moment, then looked around.

    ¡°So . . . where is it?¡±

    ¡°Just over there.¡±

    Her head tilted indicating one of the large boulders that dotted the field between the house and the woods in the near distance.  There it was, the wooden sword I was now familiar with, leaning against the large rock, quite a distance away.

    ¡°Errr . . . can I go get it?¡±

    Her smile grew, just a touch.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Ah, I was starting to see where this was going, and I can¡¯t say I was too happy about it.

    ¡°Okay . . . so just how are we going to- Ohboytooclose!¡±

    My query was cut off, almost literally, as Joan suddenly charged forward, her wooden blade sweeping in to hit my side.  She wasn¡¯t moving as fast as I knew she could, but it was still all I could do to push myself backwards with flight to dodge the swing.  She could have kept coming, closing the distance between us, but instead, she deliberately paused, her head tilting and her eyebrows raising slightly.

    ¡°Does that answer your question?¡±

    That was all the reprieve I got as she came at me again, but this time I was a bit more prepared.  My left arm came up as though bracing an invisible shield between us, my arcana condensing and flattening out.  Colourless energy formed a blurred outline of a rounded shield, and for a moment I did a passable impression of Captain America as my defence intercepted Joan¡¯s weapon and bounced it off.  I knew she could have recovered if she¡¯d wanted to, but she stumbled back slightly, the rebounding force of her blow being stopped so suddenly.

    That was all I needed.  My right hand reached out, and the wooden sword leaning far away against the boulder was suddenly outlined in a thin aura of the same colourless energy as my shield.  The next moment it was moving, shooting towards me as though it had been fired by some enormous bow.  Her eyes flicked over to it, then back to me, her smile growing softer, almost approving, as she gave a single small nod, then she drew back her sword to swing again.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Then her eyes suddenly widened as she spun in place.  The blow that was meant to come at me instead swinging around to block the sword hurtling at her!

    She¡¯d thought I was summoning the wooden weapon to my hand, but I knew that was a futile move, so I¡¯d aimed it at her head instead.  Even if she was holding back Joan outclassed me by such a wide margin when it came to arms fighting that it wasn¡¯t even funny.  There was no point in trying to go head-to-head with her.  Which film was it where the hero said something like ¡®If you can¡¯t win the game then change the rules¡¯?

    The second she turned I lashed out with my wings, the cutting feathers tucked in, so the edges were ¡®sheathed¡¯, but the blunted sides still hitting with the sort of force normally reserved for things like sledgehammers.  My wings were quick, the muscles in them coiling and releasing like steel springs, but even so, it wasn¡¯t enough.  Joan was already moving, even before her sword had finished slapping my weapon out of the air she was already twisting in a way that should have been impossible while wearing armour like that.  Even as my wings tried to hit her she slipped between them, turning her dodge into a spin as she lashed out at me again, a blow that I couldn¡¯t avoid this time.

    My shield defended me, but given that this time it was me that got sent flying back, I knew that Joan was no longer holding back quite as much as she had been.  Part of me felt a little pride at that, knowing she felt she needed to escalate to keep things even.  But she was closing in on me, even as I tried to open a bit more room between us.  The next swing came in, and my shield finally shattered!

    Two thoughts managed to occupy my mind at more or less at once in the split second it took for her to pull back her arm.  The first was how unfair it was that she could use her magic to reinforce the wooden sword to the point it could stand up against my defences.

    My second thought was something along the lines of ¡®ohmygodsword!¡¯ as she recovered and came at me again.

    White covered my vision as instincts that were still new to me took over and my wings folded in to shield me.  I felt the impact of the wooden sword on the other feathers and felt at least one of them crack slightly under the force, not break, but definitely crack.  I wasn¡¯t too worried about that, I knew that the feathers healed quickly, even regrew if they were plucked.  No, what was of greater concern was that I¡¯d lost sight of my enemy, and that was never a good thing.

    The French saint came in low, almost as though she intended to sweep my legs out from under me, but made no such attempt since it would have been pointless due to my flight.  Instead, her sword came up in a thrust, the tip catching me under my left armpit and digging in painfully as it knocked me to the side!  My flight once again proved its worth, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough as I was only just able to bring my arms up to block a swing aimed at my face.

    That one stung like crazy!  I was tougher, but even so, I was pretty sure that even my bones were going to get bruised from that hit.  In retaliation, I released a burst of telekinetic arcana, no focus, just pure force, but all it did was send her stumbling back a few steps.  She quickly regained her footing and raised her sword into a ready stance, then paused.

    ¡°Come on Adam, you know you cannot defeat me in a battle at close quarters, this is something you know!  So, what are your options?¡±

    Always taking the chance to be the teacher was one of her more endearing qualities.  So, what might her lesson be this time?  She was right that I couldn¡¯t beat her in a close fight while she had the sword, so what could I . . .

    I restrained the impulse to smack myself over the head as the dots finally connected and I was left feeling like an idiot!  This was what I¡¯d been training at for days before I learned how to use my halo, and as soon as something new and shiny came along I completely forgot about it?  Idiot!  Flight!  Flight was my advantage on her, at least as long as she didn¡¯t transform into her angel state.  If she was sticking to her base form then I just needed to get high enough to get out of reach!

    I felt the magic inside me respond to my will and I was once again pushing backwards, opening space, but this time I wasn¡¯t just going along the ground, I was also gaining height.  I supposed this was meant to be a lesson, not a real fight, just something to show me that I had to spend some time putting everything I had together into a working whole, not get lost and focus on just one aspect.

    ¡°Good, as you are I cannot reach you by conventional means.   But do not make the mistake of thinking yourself untouchable, the foes you may face will certainly have some unconventional options at their disposal.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t good.  Cupping my hands as though holding an invisible ball over my stomach I started to charge up a TK blast while moving around the resurrected soul as fast as I could.  It wasn¡¯t a proper evasion, Hadriel had taught me those, and this was too straightforward, too predictable.  However, busy as I was with building up my attack, I didn¡¯t have the attention to spare to do anything more complicated.  So, I was trusting speed rather than unpredictability, if only for a few seconds.

    Joan must still have been holding back, because the blast of light that she released didn¡¯t hit me, though it was close.  Any faster and it would have swatted me out of the air like a sparrow struck by a ball.

    I¡¯d seen her mastery over light before.  Shortly after I¡¯d managed to get a better handle on my magic I¡¯d become curious about what Hadriel and Joan could do.  So I¡¯d asked them for a proper demonstration, a full-out match rather than the sparring that they¡¯d shown me.

    And I got my demonstration.  Oh boy did I get it!

    There was now a large chunk of the open plain between the farmhouse and the woods that looked as though a giant burning blender had descended upon it as a result of my request for a demonstration.

    Joan possessed an elemental affinity for light, and I supposed it was to be expected, given her mortal life.  Back then she¡¯d shone so brightly, brightly enough to inspire a defeated nation to rise up and drive out their invaders.  Brightly enough to succeed through sheer determination and charisma in a task that should have been nigh impossible.  Bright enough to be remembered through history as one of the strongest female leaders ever.  Now, that brightness wasn¡¯t metaphorical!

    Joan could do many things with her light, such as sudden bursts of brilliance that could dazzle, or create hologram-like illusions.  But it was when she used her light as either a weapon or construct that she really showed her strength.  That was something that I was being reminded of as a series of glowing spheres the size of beachballs flew through the space I had just occupied.  They were fast, easily strong enough to really hurt me if I let my guard down.  I knew this wasn¡¯t a real fight, but in the moment it felt horribly real.  The fact that it was more blunt attacks being used against me was a serious relief, but one that only went so far.

    I had to break some of my concentration to put on a burst of speed as one of the spheres came right at me, struggling to keep focus as I did so.  I almost lost the attack I was building, but I was able to keep it stable rather than letting it dissipate into the air.  Seeing another sphere coming at me I had no choice.  A loud ¡®Kyah¡¯ escaped my lips as I launched the charged orb of arcana energy straight at the oncoming globe of golden light.  There was an impact, and then I felt my blast punch through the sphere, the light construct bursting apart like a pricked balloon, before shooting towards the French saint.  She made no effort to dodge though, instead, she raised her free arm and manifested a large kite shield made of light.

    This construct was unquestionably stronger than the globes she¡¯d been firing at me, the edges more defined, small details clearer than I would have expected.  Everything about it suggested that it was something she was familiar with, something she had taken time to strengthen and grow accustomed to.  The TK blast hit it full on, then splashed upon it as though it had been nothing more than a water bomb.  Her arm did tremble slightly under the pressure of the impact, but that was all.

    That was . . . discouraging, to say the least.  Sure, that hadn¡¯t been a fully charged attack, so it wasn¡¯t the strongest I could manage.  It had been further weakened by having to punch through the sphere of light, but even so, it had still been strong enough to smash rock.  I¡¯d known that she was strong, but seeing it like this, that was giving it a whole other dimension of clarity.

    ¡°Come now, Adam, I know you can do better than that.¡±

    Joan¡¯s comment came only a split second before I felt something wrap around my right wing, then tighten as it dragged me down.  I only had time for a single startled yelp before I hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of me.  Still, I didn¡¯t let it paralyse me, instead, I forced myself to move, my flight magic pushing me away, along the ground forcefully enough that my feathers dug grooves into the soil as they were pulled along, resisting the grip that coiled about my caught wing.

    ¡°Good!  You have learnt that lesson well!¡±

    Her words were accompanied by the sound of some great weight hitting the earth, and I looked over to see that an enormous hammerhead of light had smashed down on the spot where I¡¯d just been lying!  That . . . would have hurt.  I found myself wondering if she had forgotten that this was just meant to be a sparring match.

    ¡°Maintain your focus!¡±

    I listened to her, my captured wing snapping out, its strength greater than the tendril of light, and severed the construct that wrapped about it.  The construct was strong, but it seemed to have sacrificed durability for speed and flexibility since the sharpened feathers tore through it as though it was made of wood.  Freed of its grip I immediately changed my trajectory, angling upwards and to the side once more.

    More spheres of light came at me, but this time I had an easier time dodging them since I wasn¡¯t trying to charge up an attack.  For the moment things were a stalemate, I couldn¡¯t come at her, but I could dodge all of Joan¡¯s attacks as long as I remained airborne.  Of course, this only held for as long as Joan kept to this level of power.  I knew she was capable of more, both in terms of the strength and size of her constructs, and the rate of fire at which she was shooting them at me.  If I let things drag on then she was most likely going to start ¡®upping the difficulty¡¯ to keep things interesting.

    What I needed was a way to break her momentum, her attack rhythm.  All I needed was an opening, a moment when I didn¡¯t have to devote most of my concentration to evasion.  And as soon as the problem presented itself a thought rose up in my mind that could well be a solution!  It might not work, but it was an option at least, and right now that was all I wanted.

    My halo was already out, though I hadn¡¯t really noticed when I¡¯d manifested it.  Reaching through it I kept dodging as I tried to bring my magic into focus.  Splitting my attention was hard, but this didn¡¯t need the same concentration that charging the TK bolt did.  I think that was because while the arcana is directed solely by my mind and will, the elements already had energy of their own, energy I was simply directing and empowering.

    ¡°A better effort, but you shall need to do more than simply do-¡±

    Joan¡¯s words were cut off as the soil beneath her right foot suddenly shifted from firm to loose, shifting about to leave her standing on empty air as a foot-deep hole abruptly formed beneath her.  She let out a yelp as she tipped sideways, but almost immediately bent her left leg to compensate and regain her balance.  That was fine, though I would have liked to have made her fall over completely, her sudden adjustment had forced Joan to break off her stream of attacks.

    I focused again, and earth flowed back into the hole that had opened up, sand and soil filling it, then fusing and hardening into something like stone.  I knew that it wouldn¡¯t hold her for long, not given her strength and her light constructs, but it would buy me some time to work with.

    ¡°Good, now you are starting to grasp it!¡±

    Despite her position, Joan honestly sounded pleased with my actions, but I wasn¡¯t going to let that distract me!

    Trapping her like that had bought some small amount of time, and I was going to have to do the best I could with it.  I briefly considered trying to charge up another TK bolt, but I didn¡¯t have the time for that, and the resurrected saint was sure to notice what I was up to.  Instead, I went with my second impulse, to telekinetically grab everything that I could and start using it as a weapon.

    All around the field stones and rocks began to lift themselves up into the air.  They were quickly joined by leftover wood such as the broken remains of the tree trunk I¡¯d been using before.  Even some of the rusted and broken remnants of the farming equipment that had littered the field rose up at my command.  They all hung there hovering about us, each of them outlined in the colourless energy of arcana.  I made a pushing gesture, and the entire mass converged upon Joan, just as she managed to pull her leg free.

    Had it been any normal human that had found themselves facing such an attack, then there would have been no doubt as to what their fate would have been.  Some of the things being thrown around weighed as much as small cars.  All of them were travelling as fast as if they¡¯d been launched from a well-made catapult. If even one of them had hit a normal person then the best they could have hoped for would have been some broken bones.

    Joan was unfazed though, the wooden sword she had been holding was cast aside in an instant, replaced with a new blade forged of solidified light.  Her glowing shield returned, and in that moment she looked like nothing so much as a mighty paladin right out of some fantasy novel.  She didn¡¯t move from where she was caught, instead, she went down on her left knee to regain her balance with her trapped leg, and then began to defend against everything I could throw at her!

    It should have been impossible, immobile as she was, she shouldn¡¯t have been able to defend herself against such an onslaught!  But somehow, she was doing it anyway!

    Well, perhaps it wasn¡¯t quite so inconceivable, given the nature of the attack she was facing.  I might have been telekinetically moving dozens of objects, but it wasn¡¯t as though I was controlling each of them individually.  My telekinesis treated them all as a sort of single object that was spread out, meaning that I couldn¡¯t just move each part of it as I wanted.  Instead, I had to think of it all as one thing, something I could change the shape of, or expand or contract.  I¡¯d found I could split my attention enough to take one or two items out of the mass and control them individually, but that was my limit for the time being.

    What I was doing was essentially choosing a single point, then throwing the whole mass of objects I was manipulating at it.  It wasn¡¯t the most sophisticated use of my power, but against a lesser foe that wouldn¡¯t have been an issue.

    Joan though . . . I honestly wasn¡¯t sure just how much she was holding back, but by the looks of things it either wasn¡¯t all that much or I was just more predictable than I thought.  I had to change my approach, otherwise, she was going to be on me in a matter of moments!

    The last of my missiles were deflected by the glowing shield, but even as Joan jammed her sword into the ground to free herself I was making my next move.  The earth around her turned into sand once more, but this time the sand wasn¡¯t a small patch under her foot, rather it was the entire area around her.  It wasn¡¯t easy to pull off, not from this distance away, and not for such a large area.  I could feel my internal magic weakening as I poured it into my effort.  That was fine though, I still had plenty, and I knew that I¡¯d recover.  Right at that moment my chief concern was not giving the resurrected soul the chance to retake the offensive.

    This time I didn¡¯t simply make the sand appear, instead I deliberately made it loose, my power letting the grains slide against each other with almost no resistance.  It was a trick I¡¯d stumbled across early in my practice.  It didn¡¯t need much in the way of focus or concentration, all it took was saturating the sand with ¡®active¡¯ mana and then just holding it there so that the sand could use it.

    Sand that had been solid suddenly became fluid as water, and with a surprised exclamation, Joan slipped into it.  My sand trap was just deep enough to leave her more than a foot under the surface of the shifting sands, though I could still see her hands reaching out of it.  If she were someone normal then I might have been a bit more hesitant to use such a tactic.  With the sand flowing as it was, it would be all too easy for the victim to accidentally take a breath of it, filling their lungs as though it were water.  However, when they did so their own mana would cut off the sand inside them from the very magic that was making it flow so smoothly, meaning that the sand in their lungs would suddenly become heavy, course, and thick, in a word; deadly.  Joan though . . . I had total faith that it would take far more than just this to kill her.

    And that faith was rewarded as a column of light suddenly burst up from the sand trap, its edges driving back the tiny granules to reveal the French saint at the bottom of the hole that had been formed.  In the next instant she was bounding out of the depression, her strength carrying her in a leap that would have made the most gifted athlete green with envy.  Still, that was fine, I hadn¡¯t been expecting the sand trap to do much to stop her, it was just the setup for the next step of my, admittedly desperate, plan.

    ¡°A good attempt, but still not enough!  Tell me, what do you pla-¡±

    She might have been about to say more, but I wasn¡¯t going to wait to hear what it was.  Instead, I concentrated on the sand that had been scattered, drawing it back to a single point, exactly where Joan was standing now.

    Again, it wasn¡¯t so much difficult as it was costly.  The sand that had been scattered was soaked in my magic, and it remained so stained even when my teacher¡¯s escape had sent it flying, so sensing it and reaching out to it wasn¡¯t the hard part.  Rather it was the act of pulling it in that was the problem.  My power over the earth was best when I limited it to a relatively small area.  The cost in magic for spreading that area grew at an almost exponential level as the size increased.  Doing this was a calculated move, sacrificing efficiency for pure speed since I couldn¡¯t use arcana telekinesis to replicate it fast enough to be of any good.

    Joan was again caught by surprise as the sand flew back at her, and instinctively raised her arm and forged a shield construct upon it to block the incoming granules.  But this time she wasn¡¯t being attacked by large solid objects, rather it was by sand that was slipping around her defences like water.  The grains clung to her, then clumped together with other grains, swelling and hardening as more and more sand joined them, slipping past her attempts to hold it back and solidifying into sandstone that grasped at her.  Already her left arm was covered in the stuff, the sand forming a sort of cast of stone reaching from her wrist to just below her shoulder, and it was growing.  More was forming around her legs, trying to catch them too.  It wasn¡¯t the strongest stone, but it was heavy, and if she wasn¡¯t careful then it would rob her of the sort of leverage she needed to break it as easily as she could normally manage.

    ¡°Splendid!  An excellent attempt, but still not enough!¡±

    At the saint¡¯s declaration, her light once again burst forth from her body, expanding outwards and shattering the stone that had been clinging to her.  But I didn¡¯t let the stone just fall away, instead, I forced it to press against her shield, trying to break through.  It couldn¡¯t, of course, Joan¡¯s light magic was stronger than my power over earth, so there was no way I could muster up the raw force needed to break through, but that wasn¡¯t what I wanted, so it was fine.

    More sand crawled in along the ground and whisped through the air, reaching up to try to get at the agent of the High Heavens, but was unable to penetrate through her shield.  Joan had pulled it in close now, surrounding herself in a simple bubble of force that kept my sand away.  From past experience, I knew that despite the simple form of the defence it was a sturdy one that she could maintain for ages if she chose to.  My attempts to break through were only a minor drain on her reserves, but they were a constant one.  By reducing the size of the field until it only just covered her, she also reduced how much it taxed her.

    Sand was crawling across the bubble shield now, trying to find a way in but being held back.  Inside Joan looked more irritated than concerned, but her concentration was clear on her face.  This was what I¡¯d been betting on, a theory I¡¯d come up with during our initial training and the first demonstration of her magic.  The resurrected soul had trained in the use of her magic extensively, but mostly in the ways that would support her role as a fighter.  She was adept at using the light she controlled as a weapon and as a shield, but I was gambling that she hadn¡¯t spent as much time on the more indirect uses of it.  The bubble that she was using wasn¡¯t something she used often, in the past when she wanted to defend she always used flat or slightly curved shields, though the size did vary.  More than that, I¡¯d never seen her use more than two at a time, that was what had led me to my idea.

    Joan was great at fighting, but what she wasn¡¯t so great at was dividing her attention.  For all her training in magic and combat, she didn¡¯t seem to be that inclined to . . . spread out her influence.  I knew that it wasn¡¯t as though she suffered from tunnel vision.   During the attack on my Awakening ceremony, she¡¯d been fighting dozens of foes at a time without being overwhelmed.  The only reason that the golem had been able to blindside her was that it had used its entry through a portal to catch her by surprise.  But when it came to attacking or defending she seemed to become focused on her hands as aids to her magic, using them to wield or direct it.

    What I was doing, forcing her to defend from more than a dozen directions at once.  I was forcing her to turtle up and devote her focus to maintaining her defences.  Sure, she could redo her earlier move, flaring it out to swat my sand away like she had when she burst out of the sand trap, but this time it wasn¡¯t so easy.  Instead of just loose sand pressing in on her this time I was using my power to make and press her with sandstone, something much tougher to deal with.  It probably was within her capacity, but it would cost her in terms of magical energy, enough to make her hesitate.

    And that was what I was counting on!

    Don¡¯t lose track of your enemy, that was a lesson that she and Hadriel had made sure I learnt, and it was the one I was going to try to exploit.  Up until this point I¡¯d been doing my best to keep as much distance between me and Joan as I reasonably could since I knew damned well that if she got in close then I might as well hand her the win.  The problem was that if I kept on playing Keep-away then she¡¯d just up the ante and I¡¯d end up getting swatted from the sky in the end regardless.  If I wanted to even get a chance at winning then I had to do something to change the odds, hence my crazy plan.

    The sand covered the top half of the bubble now, with tendrils reaching down to the earth to anchor it in place.  From where I was hovering it looked somewhat odd, like some strange, tan, goo-like monster was trying to swallow the spherical shield whole.  A thought occurred, and I concentrated, pushing the sandstone to change form, extending short spikes out towards the bubble in an attempt to break through.  It was another distraction of course, and I didn¡¯t doubt that the shield would hold, but as long as it made Joan¡¯s task a bit more focus-intensive then that was fine.

    I rose, gaining height until I could feel the edges of my vertigo starting to pull at me, and then I dove, propelling myself downwards as fast as my magic could manage!

    My plan was simple, mainly because I really hadn¡¯t had the time to cook up anything more complex.  The sand was meant to hold Joan in place and cut off her view of me, hopefully enough to let me catch her by surprise.

    I crashed into her as hard as I could, the blades on my wings tearing into her shield with a sound like breaking glass mixed with the spark of arcing electricity.  I felt a tight smile cross my lips as I felt the barrier collapse.  I knew that it couldn¡¯t have been at full strength, not if it went down this easily.  My earlier efforts must have weakened it somewhat, and putting all my weight behind my wings was enough to bring it down.

    I confess, the sight of Joan¡¯s surprised face, as I crashed through her defences, gave me a nice warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, and for a brief instant, I wondered if that made me a bad person.  Then all such thoughts left my head as the whole world suddenly seemed to spin madly around me, the earth and sky exchanging places half a dozen times before my back crashed into the dirt hard enough to drive me several inches into it, not to mention driving the breath out of my body and the senses from my head.  For a few moments, all I could see was a swimming mess of colours as the world drifted in and out of focus, then I felt a twinge, and things snapped back into clarity.

    That was when I became aware of the edge of a wooden sword pressing against my throat, and the situation became clear to me.

    I¡¯d lost.  It had been a decent attempt, but somehow Joan had taken control of my charge, redirected my momentum, and left me flat on my back, half buried, and wide open for her to slit my throat, had this been a real fight.  That I understood.  What was baffling me more was just how I¡¯d gone from ¡®about to hit¡¯ her to ¡®doing a bad impression of a tent peg¡¯.  There¡¯d been that spinning, but I had no idea of just what had happened, and it was annoying me.

    ¡°It was a good effort, Adam, and you should not feel discouraged that it failed.¡±

    She helped me up, her voice was warm as ever, and that soothed the my bruised ego.

    ¡°I¡¯d take that a bit more to heart if I hadn¡¯t had your sword pressed against my throat¡±

    As I replied I brushed off the dirt clinging to my skin, absently noting that despite having hit the ground as hard as if I¡¯d come out of a speeding car I still didn¡¯t hurt at all.  Behind me my wings fluffed out for a moment, their muscles causing the feathers to stretch apart and then shiver sharply as they shook off the dirt that had clung to them.

    ¡°Adam, you cannot expect to defeat me after only a few days of becoming used to your new power.  You have not yet begun to reach the full heights of that power, nor are you yet as skilled as you will become in time.  This will come to you with experience, but until then you must tailor your methods of fighting to suit the resources that you have.  This match between us has given me a better idea of what you can do, and what direction we should focus your future training.¡±

    I nodded, having expected something of this nature.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t keep me in suspense!  What do you think?¡±

    ¡°It is clear that for the time being your greatest advantages are your versatility and your abilities to not only attack but also to affect the battlefield itself.¡±

    She gestured to where the sand I¡¯d been controlling had fallen to the ground, then pointed towards the debris and other materials that I¡¯d been throwing around with my Arcana.

    ¡°It is unusual for a demigod to possess an aptitude in more than one or two elements, and it is unheard of for one to possess as many as you seem to have.  Thus far I have yet to see any that do not fall under your influence, so you have a vast array of options available to you that are denied to most others, even gods and angels.¡±

    ¡°For the time being I believe we should focus upon that, your ability to not only select from a multitude of different attack options, but also your ability to warp and alter the battlefield to your advantage.  As things stand you do not possess the raw power in any one area that would normally be attributed to a demigod, even one as newly Awakened as you.  But I believe it is within your capability to overcome this by taking advantage of weaknesses in your foes and altering the field to provide you with aid.¡±

    ¡°So . . . you think I should go with being a wizard type fighter?¡±

    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t too sure how I felt about that.  I could see the logic in it, as she said, I had the options, not using them wouldn¡¯t just be wasteful, it would be foolish.  However, I didn¡¯t like the idea of just hanging back and attacking from a distance.  I could see the logic, but I still preferred things a bit closer in.  When Joan had been teaching me to use a sword, I¡¯d liked that!  This whole thing of hanging back and laying down the firepower . . . well, it wasn¡¯t like I wouldn¡¯t use it if I had to, but it wasn¡¯t how I wanted to do all my fighting!

    ¡°No, you may have advantages in the use of magic due to your halo, but it is not your only option.  Your body has been blessed in virtually all ways by your divinity, so your strength, speed, and endurance are all at levels beyond normal mortals.  In time these advantages will also grow as your divine power does, but until they do it is best that we focus on building upon the advantages you already possess.¡±

    I nodded, liking the sound of that a bit more.  Maybe if I got tougher in the future I¡¯d be able to afford more close-range fighting.

    ¡°Does that mean we¡¯ll be starting up the sword practice again?¡±

    If we were, then I¡¯d be curious to see what I could do.  I knew that I was stronger now, as well as faster and tougher.  Joan still outclassed me, but maybe I¡¯d be able to do a bit better now.

    ¡°I am uncertain if such lessons would serve you well in the future.¡±  She paused, then continued as she must have seen something of my disappointment on my face. ¡°Adam, I do not mean that you are in any way deficient, merely that I no longer feel a sword is the best weapon for you."

    She gestured to my wings, more specifically, at the sword-like feathers on them.

    ¡°A sword is too close range a weapon for you to comfortably use,¡± She explained. ¡°Any foe that draws close enough for it to be effective will already be within the reach of your wings, making a normal sword largely superfluous.  There are types of swords that are abnormally long and would grant you sufficient reach to make it a practical weapon, but even then the presence of your wings would make wielding it difficult at best.¡±

    I might not like it, but I could understand.  I wasn¡¯t living in a comic book, where I could have massive wings that would be conveniently out of the way whenever I wanted to do something they might interfere with.  Nor was this a film, where special effects would take care of such an issue.  This was my reality now, and the large pinions attached to my back weren¡¯t just going to go away when inconvenient.

    ¡°So . . . what do you think would be a better option?¡±

    She looked at me for a moment, her expression considering.

    ¡°Are you so set upon wielding a weapon?  Might not some sort of armoured gauntlets be a better means to take advantage of your growing strength?¡±

    I paused to consider that for a moment, then shook my head.

    ¡°No, I get where you¡¯re coming from, but I think bare hands should be a last resort, you know?  I¡¯d rather have a weapon I can use to back up my wings, one I can just drop if things get in too close.¡±

    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t too sure why I felt so strongly on this subject, but I did.

    ¡°Very well, if you so wish.¡± Joan paused, then gestured to my wings while stepping back to give me room. ¡°Swing your swings as you would if you were attacked.  Do not worry about grace or accuracy, simply show me the basic elements of how you would move.¡±

    I began to move my wings in every offensive and protective move that I could think of.  Stabbing with the sword-like feathers, slashing, swinging the flats of the wings like huge open palms, then shielding myself with those same wings, in front, to the sides, from above, even from behind.  After a minute or two the resurrected saint nodded and held up a palm for me to stop.

    ¡°Yes, I believe that shall be enough, Adam.  I feel I have sufficient knowledge of how your wings move.¡± She slowly began to move across in front of me, gesturing at my new appendages as she did so. ¡°To my eyes, there are two routes that you can take regarding what weapons you may wish to wield.

    ¡°The first path is to take up some manner of spear or polearm.  Your wings already give you excellent reach in close combat, but having such a weapon will allow you to add another vector of attack at the same distance.  In addition, you would be able to use it to enhance such charging attacks as the one that you used to break my shield at the end of our sparring match.  Your wings are strong, but the bladed feathers upon them are unsuitable for such a tactic.  It would be better to wrap yourself in your wings and use your body as a battering ram if you wish to employ such an approach.  Wielding a lance or spear would let you focus the strength of your charge in a more deadly manner.¡±

    I could see that.  Yes, my wings were dangerous, but their structure made them more suitable for slashing attacks, rather than stabbing.  They were strong, but the muscles and bones were based on those of a bird, so they weren¡¯t meant to brace against an impact from that direction.  A polearm of some sort would be more suitable.

    ¡°The second path is to take to opposite choice, instead of a large weapon you should learn to use smaller and lighter melee arms.  These would enable you to comfortably battle any foes that manage to bypass your wings.¡±

    ¡°What, you mean like short swords?¡±

    ¡°More in the vein of large daggers,¡± She explained. ¡°Swords have the disadvantage of being encumbered by your wings, spears and polearms are likewise limited, but overcome this in the advantages they grant.  Daggers and knives of various sorts are largely able to ignore the issues your wings might provide and will grant you a needed edge, should matters grow too close.¡±

    Heh, ¡®edge¡¯ I wondered if she knew she¡¯d made an unintentional pun.  Well, regardless of her unintended joke, Joan was making some good points.

    ¡°Which do you think is better?¡±  I asked, wanting her opinion as an experienced warrior before I thought about making up my mind.

    ¡°Truthfully, it is too soon to tell,¡± She picked up her wooden sword from its spot on the grass and dropped into a fighting stance. ¡°As you develop you may gain sufficient strength to overcome the normal weaknesses of certain weapons, there is little certainty as matters stand.¡±

    She made a few passes with her sword, swinging at an unseen foe, even as her eyes remained focused on my wings.

    ¡°I feel that perhaps a smaller weapon would be the best choice, but it is an uncertain thing.  For now, I believe it would be best if we continue to focus upon your mastery of your magic.  We shall not allow you more physical abilities to fall behind, but your halo grants you an advantage that we must make the most of.¡±

    ¡°Okay, how about I go take a shower, then get back to my split focus exercise?¡±

    Okay then, back to practice.

 Chapter 5: Wonder and Horror: Part Two

    Neb ran through the night.

    Running was not something she was familiar with, why should she be?  Since the end of her first year of life, she had never needed to run, her wings had been more than sufficient to bear her anywhere she wished to go far faster than her legs could have ever managed, and even walking had been largely unnecessary.  To be sure, there were times when etiquette required her to walk, but that had only been in the presence of those of higher rank than her, such as when she was amidst the Court of Summer.

    Now she ran though, her youthful frame almost childish in size, but still managing to hurtle through the dark woods with the speed of a frightened animal.  To run was her only option, the only choice left to her.

    Neb was of the Fey, the old race also called fairies, elves, sprites and spirits, immortal beings that used magic as easily as mortals breathed the air. Beings that were beautiful in ways only the most exceptional of mankind could ever hope to be.  She was of one of the old Houses, nobility amongst the Court and ranked highly enough that once the Path to the mortal realm opened once more she had been one of the first to be allowed through.

    Though there had been many calls for a massed invasion as soon as the Paths had returned, the monarchs of the Court had been cautious.  They had known that it had not only been the Fey that had regained access to the world of Man.  It had been all the other realms as well.  Gods, monsters, the High heavens and the Infernal Legions, all of them would be moving to claim some part of the mortal plane.

    The monarchs of the Courts had known better than to throw themselves and their forces between the clashing juggernauts that would emerge in the wake of the Paths returning.  But neither could they ignore the opportunities that their return offered, so they settled upon a middle path instead.

    By comparison to the mortals the Fey were powerful and terrifying, but when held against the likes of the gods they were but rats beside wolves.  To be sure, enough rats sufficiently provoked and acting in concert along with the element of surprise could bring down a wolf and strip its flesh all the way down to the bone, but the losses in such a battle would be grievous.  The Courts of Summer and Winter were held in some respect by the various pantheons and immortal factions because of this.

    A small number of Fey would be allowed to return to the mortal plane using the older and smaller Paths that were the province of the Fair Folk.  Once in the world of humanity, each of them had the right to pursue their own goals, but when it came time to return to the plane of the Fey it was their duty to also bring back tribute for the court.

    Only thirty of them had left, and as far as Neb knew seven of their number had already perished.

    Dead, like she might soon be.

    About her the trees seemed to be closing in, their branches whipping at her, twigs scratching, leaves blinding, roots tripping her.  Were it not for her sight being keener than any mortals could ever have hoped to be, the darkness would have already had her careening into a tree or tripping over some fallen log.   As it was, she was able to force herself onwards!

    To stop was to die!

    The thought repeated in her head again and again as her lungs struggled to draw more air into them, to keep up with the demands she was placing upon muscles that she¡¯d never had to strain before.  Pain bit into her back with every movement, as the torn and mutilated remnants of her wings shifted with her every step, but she paid it no heed, instead forcing herself onwards.  Her once elegant dress, a garment made of unearthly silk and the furs of creatures bred and altered for the luxuriousness of their hides, was a ruin, torn by claws, stained by blood, dirtied by mud, but she didn¡¯t care.

    To stop was to die!

    Her family had been one of many amongst the court, but they had managed to accumulate enough debts and favours that she had been able to secure a position among the first to be sent.  It had been expensive, but she had been sure that it would be worth it.  The mortal realm was rich in valuable resources, such as magic, reagents, and souls, but they had one thing in abundance that Neb craved above all else.

    Children.

    Like many of the immortal races, the fey had a low reproduction rate, meaning that even in a life that could be measured in centuries, if not millennia, a female Fey would only mother two or three children.  Unfortunately, given the vicious nature of fey political manoeuvring those that didn¡¯t emerge victorious tended to end up dead, so the attrition rate on the race was greater than the survival rate of their children.

    In ancient times, back when they¡¯d still had access to the realms of man, this had been even worse, the toll of keeping their territories secure exacting a high price from their numbers.  A price that could not be easily sustained.  As such they had developed a means to expand their numbers quickly, by adopting human children into their bloodlines, children that ceased to be human and instead became fey.  It was a method that had worked, and the fey came to be feared as child thieves.  They would take an unguarded baby and leave only a lesser fey or an enchanted doll in their place.  These taken children were transformed, becoming fey themselves as losing all memories of ever having been anything else.  They were then adopted and raised in their new households as full members.  In some families, they had been treated as lesser, but it was soon learnt that the once-mortal were every bit as grudging, vindictive, and vicious as any pure-blooded fair one could ever hope to be.  Those families quickly learnt it, to their cost.

    Those children turned in this manner could also produce pure-blooded children of their own, and since it was the blood of the family they became a part of that was used to change them, this was viewed as a legitimate means to continue the bloodline.  It was a way that had saved many an ancient lineage back in the old times after many of the pure-blooded heirs had been lost to either battle, intrigue and revenge.

    Then the Path between the Planes had been closed and children were no longer free for the taking.

    The courts had struggled to adapt, but the nature of the fey was to be every bit as cruel to their foes as they were loving to their families.  Every action and reaction led to them losing more and more of their race, faster than new blood could be birthed by their weak fecundity.  New laws of conduct had been invented, new rules governing what was and was not allowed in the pursuit of the interfamily feuds.  Some of it had worked, some of it had failed.  But in all, the only thing it had done was to slow the decline that seemed inevitable.  By the time the Paths had returned the various races of the fey had been reduced to barely a half of the population they¡¯d possessed when the Paths closed, and the figure would have been even lower were it not for the strict and wise governance of their monarchs.

    Neb herself was the last daughter of her family, though once she¡¯d possessed both a brother and a sister.  Both had been lost to feuds with other families when she was young, but she still remembered their presence.  For the fey, the bonds of family were all, and the loss of her siblings had been a scar that they had not recovered from.

    So, she had sought to correct it, to find mortal infants that she could take and bring back to her home realm so that they could become her new siblings.  She had chosen this corner of this continent because not only had it once been the territory that her people had been able to hold, but also because it was currently uncontested.  The others that had come through with her had immediately set off for the new lands that had been colonized in the centuries since the closing of the Paths, desperate to see new lands and gather new power.  Neb had thought she was being cunning, keeping to an area where she could move in secret, steal what she wanted and loot the ancient abandoned sites where the settlements of the fey had once been hidden.

    There, she had been certain that she¡¯d be able to locate caches of ancient weapons, magical tools, and lost reagents.  It might have been millennia since they had been abandoned, but the magic in them should have been strong enough to preserve them for centuries more yet, and the concealment spells upon them would have ensured that no mortals would have stumbled across them.  So they would have been ripe for harvest, a wealth of resources to be presented before her monarchs upon her return, and then her new siblings could have been changed and added to her family.  It was a perfect plan, and she had been quietly working upon it since she had arrived.

    She had already carefully observed a nearby mortal town and had selected the infants that she would take.  They were two boys and a girl, each of them belonging to families that were either negligent or simply poor.  Neb would be sure to leave gold in their place, a suitable payment for her future kin, as well as a declaration to this land that the fey had returned.  All she¡¯d needed to do was find the cache of artefacts she sought, and thanks to the information she''d been able to dig out of her family¡¯s archive that had been the easy part.

    Or so she had thought.

    She could hear it behind her, the rustle of shifting leaves, the small snaps of twigs, the swish of air as it moved.  How?!  The question burned in her mind even as she struggled on, how could something so huge move so quietly?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry . . .¡±

    The small mournful words carried to her ears despite how quietly they had been spoken.  She felt the blood freeze in her veins as she realized just how close her pursuer must be for her to hear them so well.  Fear gave her strength, and she forced herself on, putting on a burst of speed as she tried to reach the mortal town.

    Would it follow her there?  She didn¡¯t think so, not since it seemed to be avoiding that area.  She¡¯d heard nothing of it in town when she¡¯d been investigating.  Oh, she had heard rumours of something in the woods, but since whatever it was had never seemed to come into the town she¡¯d dismissed it as just that, a rumour and nothing more.  But if it had been avoiding the town then there was a chance that it could offer safety if she could reach it!

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry . . .¡±

    How was she to have known that something would have found the old store of magical artefacts before her?  How could she have known that it would have already raided the stockpile of potent magic and-

    A log caught her in the back of her knees, the force of the impact enough to take her legs out from under her and send her tumbling to the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.

    ¡°I . . . I can¡¯t let you go though . . . I¡¯m sorry . . . I just can¡¯t!¡±

    An ordinary mortal would have been broken by the fall, their bones and joints snapped by the forces of momentum and gravity working against them, but fey were a hardier breed.  Even so, Neb had struck her head upon a stone as she came crashing down, and the impact was enough that it took her a few seconds to recover before she could scramble to try to regain her feet.

    A few seconds too long.

    ¡°Why . . . ?  Why did you have to come . . . ?  I just wanted to be alone!  So why . . . ?¡±

    Rolling onto her wounded back she pushed herself backwards, trying to make more room even as she tried to get to her feet.  She could see the thing that had been following her, though perhaps saying that she could see it was an exaggeration.  Aside from the darkness of the forest at night, the creature that had been pursuing her was covered in a strange hazy distortion. As though she was seeing it through clouded or warped glass.  She could see small details, but the complete picture of the thing was hidden from her.  Though that was not any sort of comfort, what small details she could see were enough to chill her blood.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The thing was large, easily bigger than a cart and the bulls that pulled it combined.  Yet for all its size the creature moved through the forest and between the trees with a sinuous, almost liquid, smoothness.  The strange combination between its silent motion and the vagueness of its form lent it an almost unreal quality, as though it were some sort of illusion that had attained substance.  Neb was of the court of Summer, and so was no stranger to sights that would have left mortals gaping in disbelief, if not mentally broken.  But this being before her terrified her in a way she¡¯d never experienced before, not even in the heat of a duel to the death!

    Part of it was the creature¡¯s physical appearance, something that could never have come to pass in the natural world.  Its hide was smooth and dark, maybe black, maybe red, in the shadows of the night it was impossible to tell.  The main portion of the thing was composed of many long snaking limbs that glistened as though they were covered in some viscous substance, yet she knew from first-hand experience that they were dry as old paper.  Some were short and thick, others longer and more dexterous.  The inside of the longer ones were lined with rows of long and vicious fangs that would have been at home in one of those mechanical saw devices she had seen mortals use to cut down trees.  The mass of limbs obscured the rest of the creature''s body, the only other detail she could make out with any clarity was perhaps the most disturbing.

    Atop the main mass there was the upper half of a person, their form half submerged within the flesh of the monster, as though they were trying to rise from the sticky water of a bog.  The obscuring effect covered them, making it impossible to tell if the figure was male or female, how old they might be, or even if they were clothed or naked.  The only hint was the voice that reached her, and even that was distorted to the point where she was unsure if it was masculine or feminine.  However, there was no mistaking the anger that was starting to creep into the formerly mournful tone.

    ¡°Just . . . Just leave me alone!  Is that too much?!  Just leave me alone and I won¡¯t get hungry!¡±

    Even as the human portion of the creature continued to mutter their nonsensical words the longest of the tendrils were reaching out for the downed fey.  She had no attention to spare for the words, instead, she scrambled onto her feet and tried to back away, only to find her retreat cut off by a sheer wall of dirt.  That had not been there before, she was certain of it!  But the pitted stone and crumbling dirt looked old, as though this was something that had been there for years, making her doubt her certainties.

    Had she been fooled by an illusion, something concealing it from her sight even as she tried to escape?  She, a member of the Summer Court?  Or was it something else, a trick that she had not noticed, turning her around and sending her other than where she¡¯d meant to go?  Questions raced about in her skull, scattering her other thoughts, and as she fought to regain her composure those snake-like limbs slowly reached for her.

    She knew how dangerous they were, after all, it had been them that had shredded her beautiful wings, reducing her to this pitiful ground-bound state.  Her wings, though gossamer thin, had actually been as tough as woven steel.  And those fang-lined tendrils had torn them apart as though they had been mere cobwebs!  She¡¯d tried to retaliate, tried to fight back, but her best efforts had been the ineffective efforts of a puppy against a fully-grown tiger.

    So, she had run!  She¡¯d run as hard as she could, as far as she could, as fast as she could!

    And it had done nothing but delay the inevitable.

    No! The thought bubbled up inside her, firming her spine, putting fire in her belly.  No! She wasn¡¯t going to die like this, not in some wild backwater of the mortal realm at the fangs of some leftover abomination that had been squatting in the remains of her ancestor¡¯s treasury!

    Nab was a fey of the Summer Court, the faction of her race aligned with all the qualities of that season.  Light, fire, life, growth, all of those and more were a part of the forces they drew upon.  Nab possessed a natural alignment with plants and their growth, a talent she had honed.  In the past, it had served her well, but in the face of this monster, it had been useless.

    The blades and spears she¡¯d made from leaves and twigs had done nothing, crumpling on the monster¡¯s hide like paper against armour.  Once or twice she had thought that she¡¯d managed to inflict damage to the more slender limbs, but when she had looked again the wounds that it had taken her strongest floramancy to inflict were gone.  Likewise, the shields that had saved her many times in the past were of no use, acting only as minor annoyances to the slashing and rending tendrils that ripped through them like some nightmare emerging from the night.  She had been bested before, by older and more powerful members of the court, but the sheer savagery that this monster had displayed as it tried to get at her had sent her into a panic.

    Even so, she still had a final weapon to use, a last resort to call upon.  She¡¯d not used it before because it was an . . . expensive magic to use, and doing so would instantly use up the seven decades worth of magic that she had been stockpiling within it.  Still, it was better to use it trying to survive.

    ¡°ROT AND DIE!!!¡± She screamed at the monster, letting the force she had carefully contained within herself spill forth.

    Unlike most fey with affinity to plants, she had been fortunate enough to be born with a secondary ¡®hidden¡¯ affinity, one that her family had kept carefully concealed and had educated her upon out of sight of all others.  This affinity was for the poisons that plants developed as natural defences, and given the vicious and virulent venoms that the plants of the fey plane had evolved over the millennia of being exposed to magic this was a potent affinity to possess.  For centuries now she had been perfecting the art of absorbing the nature of those poisons into her magic, then syphoning off a small part of her body''s naturally generated magic, using it to cultivate those very poisons, and then condensing and storing it into a magical pearl that grew at the back of her throat.  When she ruptured that pearl and exhaled the massive amount of pent-up poison . . .  well, it had been her final resort for much of her life for a reason!

    When she broke the pearl a tide of purple and green miasma roared out of her mouth, the venomous flood howling like the winds of a hurricane.  Her magic prevented the released poison from finding its way down her throat, so the only means of escape was through her mouth.  Had the fey not used magic to reinforce her flesh and bones then the force at which the toxic fog roared out would have shattered her jaw and torn the teeth from her skull.  As it was she was glad that she had the wall of earth to her back, it kept her from being blown over by the force of her attack, now that she didn¡¯t have her wings to grant her the flight needed to keep her balance.

    The flood of miasma washed over the creature before her, the plants and insects about it blackening and shrivelling in place.  Some of them even began to melt, the potency of the poison such that they broke down at a cellular level as though they had been sprayed with acid.  Even the very soil seemed to rot, breaking down into little more than sand and sludge as the otherworldly poison of the fey annihilated all life within it, and even the remnant of life that had rotted were scoured as well.

    Neb stared as she watched the desolation her attack was wreaking upon the woodland before her, and even though it was an action that was needed to save her life she could not help but feel a pang of pain.  Fey like her were tied to growing things, to the plants in full bloom, to the trees thick with leaves at the height of the summer season.  To see those same plants killed by her power was . . . unpleasant.

    But this monster . . . such a creature she had no compunctions about melting it down to the bones and leaving nothing but blackened sludge of its flesh!

    More than half of the venom contained in the pearl had been released now.  Had she been able to she would have ceased the flow, sealed away what remained, but such was not possible.  She had to wait until the flow exhausted itself, only then could begin the creation of a new pearl and begin to-

    Her thoughts were cut off as she saw something impossible, a shape moving through the miasma of her poison!

    NO!  No, that couldn¡¯t be possible!  That poison was as inimical to life as she could have possibly made it!  In the past she¡¯d used it to melt fey champions, mighty warriors that represented entire family lines in disputes, down to nothing but muck and a few bone shards!   How?!  How could anything possibly be living through it and still live?!

    ¡°Not enough . . . not enough . . .¡± The words were spoken between deep panting breaths, and the fey found herself stunned by the absurdity of any living creature being able to breathe amidst that murk. ¡°Did you think that it would be?  Did you think that that I¡¯d be out here if it was?!  IT¡¯S NOT ENOUGH TO END IT!!!¡±

    The last was spoken in a roar as the monster continued to advance on her, drawing closer despite the hurricane-force winds beating upon it!  She could see it now, see how her poison was eating away at it, opening up great swathes into gaping and weeping wounds.  She could see those wounds darken and curdle at the edges, sickening and rotting in bare seconds until they were the type of mortified wounds that only the greatest of healing magic could ever hope to save.  To all others, the only chance would have been to simply sever the poisoned limb and hope that the rest of the body could recover.

    But not here, not with this abomination!

    Even as her torrent of miasma ripped away at it, their flesh recovered, regrew, just as fast.  Before her very eyes, she watched as muscles that had been dissolving into bile and puss suddenly regenerated into full health.  Skin that had been on the verge of breaking apart instead firmed and grew revitalized.

    It . . . it wasn¡¯t stopping!  Even though she was pouring enough poison to slay a city onto the monster with the force of a tornado, it wasn¡¯t stopping!

    Panic beyond anything the fey noble had ever experienced before burst up in her heart.  This creature . . . it seemed to be on par with the mighty living engines of war created by the Summer Monarchs themselves.  She could think of nothing else that could compare, not even the wild magic-warped beasts that inhabited the neutral lands between the Courts.  This was like facing something out of a nightmare!  Something that refused to die regardless of what she tried.

    The torrent of poison was almost exhausted now, but Neb was now drawing further upon her reserves of magic, adding more to the remaining flow, and enhancing it further.  The torrent redoubled, and even as she could feel her reserves beginning to dwindle, she pressed on regardless.  This had to work!  This had to work! This had to w-

    A long tendril, one covered in wounds but still moving strongly, burst out of the haze of poison like some deep-sea serpent rising from a murky ocean.  Before the fey could react the long limb as thick as her arm encircled her ankle and tightened, the fangs on its length biting deep into her flesh.  The torrent of poison cut off in a strangled scream as the tendril flexed and dragged her from her feet, lifting her up into the air as though she weighed no more than an apple that had just been plucked from a tree.  Blood sprayed out of her leg as the fangs savaged it, biting into her flesh and opening her veins to the air, but for all the pain it was causing her that was not the focus of her attention.

    The mass of limbs that had obscured most of the monster¡¯s form had pulled aside to reveal the maw of some abomination from a nightmare!  There were no jaws, no teeth, just a deep black pit large enough to swallow her whole, the inside lined with a multitude of small mandibles, each of them tipped with small sharp claws.  Her eyes pierced through the dark, letting her see all the details in crisp sharpness as she was dragged through the air towards it.

    ¡°Why?!  Why did you have to come and disturb me?!  I was safe, I was sleeping!  Then you came and I got so HUNGRY!¡±

    The tone was both wrathful and melancholic at once, but Neb paid it no mind.  Instead, she was thrashing in place, trying to escape the limb that held her, uncaring of the way the fangs tore at her with her every movement.  She¡¯d abandoned her pride as a fey, she¡¯d discarded her wisdom as a magic user.  Terror, exhaustion, and despair had all combined to reduce her to the wild animal that lurked in the back of every fey¡¯s mind

    She didn¡¯t want to die!  She didn¡¯t want to die! She didn¡¯t want to die!

    She was screaming now, though she had no idea what she was saying.  Pleas, threats, offers, curses, it could have been any of them or all of them.  Words spilt forth without her thoughts or choice, just wild verbalizations of a train of thought careening out of control.

    Oh, Black Summer!  She was only a few inches away from the maw now, she could smell its carrion stench, feel the wind of its breath, see the mandibles beginning to wriggle as though in eager anticipation of her being in their clutches!

    Neb thrashed, her every free limb wildly swinging as she tried to free herself.  Her whole body bucked about, throwing itself this way and that, uncaring of torn muscles or broken bones.  And all the while she continued to scream, babble, and beg.

    Her efforts had some result, but it wasn¡¯t the one she wanted.  More tendrils constricted around her, more fangs biting into her as the beast bound her beyond her ability to fight. It should have been agonizing, so many fangs cutting into her, but she was so flooded with fear, magic and desperation that the pain was a far-off thing, something she was distantly aware of but which had no impact upon her.  How could it?  There was no room in her mind for anything other than that gaping maw!

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you found me.  I didn¡¯t want you to, but you did!  And now, this is all I can do for you, because I¡¯m just so hungryyyyy!¡±

    She heard the words, but she didn¡¯t understand them.  She felt the tendril that slipped around her neck, but she didn¡¯t comprehend it.  She sensed the fangs digging into her throat, slashing it open and letting her life¡¯s blood spill forth, but there was no pain.  All she was aware of was that the edges of her vision were going darker, the world fading away even as she was pushed into that maw.

    Her last thought, just before the darkness took everything, was to be happy when the world went away and took the monster with it.

    The last thing she heard, even as her thoughts ended, was a small and mournful; ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

 Chapter 6: Seeking Answers: Part One

    Chapter 6: Seeking Answers

    Looking at the scene before me made me feel uneasy, almost sick.

    It wasn¡¯t until Joan pointed it out that I even realized that I had been shying away from this spot.  It had just seemed more sensible to use the spot behind the farmhouse rather than this area at front of it.  It just felt more comfortable there, and the new white grass caused by my Awakening quickly grew to cover craters and gouges caused by my experimentations with my new powers.

    I hadn¡¯t even set foot on these fields in front of the farmhouse since the disastrous night of my failed Awakening ritual.  Back when I¡¯d been learning to fly I hadn¡¯t gone over to this side of the farmhouse.  Even when I went for short walks, just to clear my head, I¡¯d always taken them towards and along the edge of the wood, not out onto the wide field where I could have had a splendid view of dawns and dusks.  I¡¯d always just . . . avoided it.

    I supposed I could understand now, now that I was actually walking up to that burnt and blackened area.  Here there was none of the white grass, all that remained was the scorched remains of the tree trunks that Joan had used, the cratered earth, and the half-melted remains of the golem.  It was a desolate scene.  Sort of like that time I¡¯d gone to a war memorial on the coast of France.  It was the site where British troops had landed, and there was a World War Two memorial.  I¡¯d found it both compelling and disturbing to walk through.  There were huge craters there, large enough to stand at the bottom and look up to see the rim higher than your head.  I¡¯d looked at them, their sides smoothed by age and grass growing over them, and I¡¯d tried to imagine what it would have been like at the time of that battle.

    I felt something similar as I stared at the ruins of the ritual site, but this was something that I¡¯d been there for.  I could remember where the portal had opened, where Joan had been when the golem engaged her.  I could remember where I had stood, where I had been dragged by those demonic creatures, where I¡¯d fought back and jammed the feathers of my divine ancestor into its head.

    It wasn¡¯t until I felt a tickle at the back of my throat that I realized that my breathing had begun to speed up.  I¡¯d been so focused on the sight before me, and the memories they evoked, that I¡¯d actually been ignorant of the gut reaction they were stirring within me.

    Fear.

    Helplessness, anger, despair, all of them had been flooding through me, but focused on my survival as I had been I¡¯d shoved them down, burying them away.  But even buried as they were, they had been there, and they had left their marks on my heart. And none had done so more than fear.  As I looked at the burnt site of the ritual that should have given me the full depth of my potential I couldn¡¯t help but feel scared, as though something was hiding just behind me and getting ready to strike.

    . . . something that didn¡¯t have a real face.

    . . . something . . .

    I shook my head, trying to dispel the nameless dread that seemed to be trying to creep up on me.  That night, it seemed to be lingering more than I thought, and this fear, this . . . mixture of terror and despair, I didn¡¯t like it at all.  It was sensible to be scared at the time, to be afraid of the things that had come so close to dragging me away to God only knew where, but to be scared of just the place where it almost happened?  No, that was irrational, and I hated that!

    Intellectually I was aware that there was nothing for me to be afraid of, that this was just the site of a past event and nothing more.  Still, the anxiety this field caused me wasn¡¯t something I could just reason away.

    Damn it!  I hated this!

    Trying to distract myself I turned my attention to the remains of the massive figure that Joan had fought, and despite my mixed feelings, I found the melted and blasted figure to be oddly compelling.  Perhaps it was the sheer size of the thing, it stood more than nine feet tall.  I¡¯d always been a bit taller than average, and I¡¯d grown up with a father who had been even taller.  Since becoming a demigod I¡¯d grown used to being taller than either Joan or Hadriel, and with my new build, I¡¯d become used to ¡®feeling¡¯ bigger.  But now, standing in the presence of this behemoth of a figure I suddenly felt small in a way I never had before.

    I¡¯d only managed to get a brief look at the massive golem that had fought Joan, as most of my attention had been focused on the demonic monsters trying to drag me away.  Still, even that quick look had made it clear that this had not been a creature to be taken lightly.  It had broken Joan¡¯s wing, and I knew just how tough those could be.   Likewise, it had endured her attacks with her power over light, and I also knew full well how potent those were.  It had taken it all and kept on fighting, and now it stood before me, almost a ruin of the might it had once possessed.

    Its surface had been melted by the forces that had been unleashed upon it, but the frame and form of it remained intact.  Joan had told me what had happened that night.  How the destructive power released by my failed Awakening had been enough to sear the golem and leave it immobile, but to actually see it made me feel awe for not simply the power that had been unleashed, but also for the golem that had endured it and remained mainly intact.

    The front portion of the metal and stone construct resembled a wax figurine that had been exposed to heat for just too long.  Perhaps the golem had once possessed features and intricate details upon its face and chest.  But if it did they were gone now, buried beneath stone and metal that had melted, run, and then hardened again.  Its arms were in an even worse state, though they¡¯d somehow retained their general shape.  What had once been hands and forearms had been reduced to indistinct lumps, as though someone had reached that point upon a sculpture and instead of true limbs had just welded on lumps of semi-dripping slag.  Even the knees and feet that had been facing the direction of the heat were slightly distorted.  They drooped in places, the material that made them having melted and run just like the larger portions.  Imposing as the golem was there was something almost sad about it, as though it were slumping in defeat.

    I don¡¯t know why, but something about that seemed wrong to me.  When I¡¯d first seen it, the giant of metal and stone had been terrifying.  A monster that could stand up to my protector¡¯s angelic form.  Now though . . . it was strange.  The monsters were the demon things that had tried to drag me away, they were the things that haunted my nightmares.  The Golem. . . it was more akin to a part of the background, absurd as it might sound.

    I held no fear or animosity to it, instead seeing it like this was depressing.  It had been strong, mighty, magnificent even, and now it was just this, a melted wreck of its former glory, a proud lion that was now blinded and crippled.  This thing had been my enemy, part of the forces that sought to drag me through their portal!  I shouldn¡¯t be feeling any sort of compassion for it, no sympathy, no regret!

    And yet . . .

    I stood in front of the melted form staring up at the ruin that had once been its face.  It was caved in, the once hollow space behind the face plate having collapsed upon itself.  I found myself trying to remember what I knew about golems.  They were meant to have a word carved into their heads, that was what I remembered.  I couldn¡¯t remember what that word was meant to be, but I could remember that a traditional way to beat a golem was to scrub out the first letter.  That would cause the golem to stop, or so I thought.

    Was that why this golem had stopped?  Because the word in its head had been reduced to illegible slag?

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    I don¡¯t know what impulse took me, but I reached out to to poke at the drooping features of what had once been its face.  It was just a casual gesture, nothing important.  But as I touched the metal of its face something happened.

    ¡°Oww!¡±

    I snatched my hand back, startled by the sudden shock.  It wasn¡¯t the first one that I¡¯d had to deal with lately, not with the way my wings seemed to accumulate static in this hot weather, worse than my hair did.  But this shock had been a bit more potent than normal, but I had been standing here for a bit, and flexing my wings unconsciously probably hadn¡¯t helped.

    With a sigh, and a quick shake of my hand to dispel the slight numbness from the shock, I turned and took off into the air.  Enough introspection, I had to get back to training, or else Hadriel was going to kick my ass even harder than normal in our next sparing session.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The remains of the golem did not move.  It remained as still as any statue, but such an appearance belied what was happening beneath the surface.

    The construct was old, crafted before the reign of Solomon, created more than a thousand years before a star rose over the village of Bethlehem.  It had been forged with lore long lost, using the stolen hair of one of the champions of the Abrahamic God as the core component in its empowerment.  The weapons of warriors from other religions had been melted down and used as part of the metal to form its body.  At the time of its creation, the golem had been one of the pinnacles of mortal magical achievement in the whole world, the masterpiece of its creators.

    They had known that they were creating a weapon, a guardian for the kingdom they served.  Such a being would know battle, but for all its strength and durability the construct they had made was not invulnerable to harm.  It was able to endure much, more than any mortal being could hope to, but in time the damage it would suffer would accumulate, wearing it down, slowly crippling it.  So, they had done what seemed logical, they had granted the metal and stone giant the ability to heal.

    It had been a monumental task. They had granted a being without flesh the ability to recover from wounds and damage.  That small cabal of sorcerers and alchemists, whose names were lost to the sands of time, would have been held in the same regard as Solomon and Merlin.  But before they could make other great works the king they served had them all murdered.  It was a petty and small-minded decision, simply his way of ensuring that the golem that now served him would never be surpassed by another work of theirs.  Also, with them dead none save he knew the secrets of how to control the golem.

    The king did not rule for long though, not as intoxicated as he was with the power that the seemingly invincible golem gave him.  Secure in the knowledge that none could go against him he had indulged in the worst excesses.  He flaunted his power over the laws that he was meant to abide by and enforce, carelessly demanded tribute without mercy, and punished those who could not meet his demands.  In the end, his death was fittingly petty and ignoble.  No great hero killed him, no angel of the Lord was sent to dispatch him.  Instead, he died alone in the gutter of a back alley after a wild night in the slums of his kingdom, choking on his own vomit without a friend to help him.  The golem had heard no order, so it took no action to save him as he flailed and drowned in his own bile.  A fitting end for one that denied the world of so much.

    Through the years, then centuries, then millennia, the golem had served many masters, those who had managed to use magic to determine the words that would bind it to their service.  It had fought demons and angels, gods and monsters, heroes and villains, sometimes it had been victorious, sometimes it had been defeated.  Yet always it had endured, always recovering from the damage and waiting for a new master.  The golem, no, the Golem was not alive in the same way that mortals and immortals were.  During its creation, it had been imbued with a certain degree of intelligence and reasoning, all so that it might be a more effective warrior in battle.  It possessed the ability to learn, to remember its past experiences and derive knowledge from them.  It was even aware of itself, that it existed and that it thought, but for all that, it had not true will of its own.  That had been a deliberate decision by its creators.  After all, a weapon should not be able to contest how it was wielded.

    However, that was not to say that the Golem was without drives.  As a weapon, one that knew what it was, it required an owner, a user.  It did not want one, nor did it seek one, such was beyond the scope of its function. But even so, it knew it was ¡®incomplete¡¯ without a user.  It could even be said that it had some preferences regarding whom it served, even though it would always serve those who knew the Words with equal force regardless of how it felt towards them.

    The battle with the resurrected saint and getting cvaught in the blast of the failed Awakening ritual had inflicted a whole new level of damage.  One that was changing things for the first time in millennia.  The eruption of energy had been a mixture of different forces, some of which should have been inimical to each other, but which somehow were co-existing.

    In the past, the Golem had endured much.  The fires of hell, the thunder of heaven, the weapons of gods, the bile of monsters, so many things that had left it cracked, splintered and even broken.  But always its core had endured and the damage had been overcome with time and energy.

    This time it had been different, though.  Never before had the Golem faced energies that tore at it so deeply.  The construct¡¯s vital components could be found in two locations, its chest and its head.  The chest housed the core that served as the source of its power, an alchemical organ that was all but unique in the world.  One that constantly generated a steady and continuous stream of raw mana, that which let stone and metal move as though they were flesh.  By contrast, the head housed the spell words that gave the Golem the ability to think, to store experiences and to learn from them.  Both of these were heavily armoured, protected enough so that only forces that would have destroyed the Golem outright could reach them.

    And yet, the force of the demigod¡¯s failed Awakening had somehow passed through those defences, impacting the core and the spell words, halting them, freezing them even as the external surface of the construct was scoured by heat and force that melted it.  Had the core components been frozen then the main body would have drawn in ambient mana so that the recovery abilities could fix them.  Had it been the main body that was damaged beyond function then it would have been the components that worked to repair it from the inside out.  However, in this case, both had been rendered inoperable together, and neither of them was able to work to repair the other.

    That was why the construct had been frozen in place for weeks.  That was why it had not recovered in the slightest.  That was why the Golem had been, to all intents and purposes, dead.

    Until now.

    At the touch of the demigod mere moments ago something had happened, a spark of power had jumped between them.  It had been a small thing, a mere mote that he probably didn¡¯t even notice was gone, but for the Golem¡¯s body, it was the difference between existence and oblivion.

    Its components had stilled, the damage dealt to them too much to continue.  The core in the chest was now smothered in material that had partly melted, then hardened in the wrong shape.  The reactions that sustained the power generation of the alchemical organ had been halted, paused until they were restarted.  The spell words that governed the Golem¡¯s consciousness could have restarted the core, but they were in even worse shape.

    The spell words were housed in the head of the Golem, directly at the centre where it was hardest to reach.  The art of golems and homunculi was the art of emulating God¡¯s creation of mankind, and as such it needed to follow the basic form that they were trying to copy.  Thought was the crown of life, therefore it had to be housed in the head and brow, as such there was no other location the spell words could be written.

    The force that had left the golem a ruin had reached the very place where the spell words had been carved.  With any other golem that would have been the end of it, their words were their life. But this construct was somewhat more complex.  The spell words went beyond simple marks cut into stone and metal, rather they were carved into the construct¡¯s conceptual framework.  As long as the concept of the Golem continued in a physical vessel then so too would the spell words that were tied to it, a means for those words to endure even if its ¡®brain¡¯ were to be destroyed.

    Of course, this was merely a final safety measure, a way for its experience and knowledge to be saved in the event of a crushing defeat.  As things stood, without the core and with the main spell words all but lost, the ancient construct might have remained like that forever, trapped in a state of eternal limbo

    All that had just changed though, and all it had taken was a tiny spark to get things going.

    The power that had jumped from the demigod to the Golem, though almost insignificant, had been the perfect type that the construct needed.  Exactly why it had been drawn to the ambient mana in his aura was complex, but that was hardly of any importance.  What was of significance was that the deadlock had been broken.  It was a tiny thing, like a single snowflake falling upon the side of a mountain, but that one flake had moved another, and then the two of them moved two more, and then those moved more in turn.  It would be a slow process, but from small things could mighty avalanches be born.

    Slowly but surely the Golem began to repair itself.

 Chapter 6: Seeking Answers: Part Two

    Watch Demigod Forum

    Thread: New Demigods! #18

    Post:1

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Okay, if you¡¯re going to post on this threadd then you should know the rules by now, so don¡¯t make things harder for the moderators. Keep it civil, don¡¯t post stuff unless you can back it, don¡¯t feed the trolls.

    Anyway, since I¡¯m the guy starting the new thread it¡¯s only fair that I add something to show I¡¯m on the level.

    [Link]

    This just got loaded up a few minutes ago, some guy claiming to have woken up as a demigod. Some people are saying that the flames hes using are fake, but my roommate studies special effects and he say that he thiks thy¡¯re the real thing.

    So, thoughts? Is this guy the real thing, or is he another faker?

    Post:2

    User: NevaGonnaQuit!!! (Titles: None)

    Come on! Do you really think that¡¯s real?! The guy claims he can form flames like that and he just juggles one fireball around? FAKE!!! If it was the real deal then he¡¯d be doing something bigger! Like burning down a tree or something! This is LAME!!!

    Post:3

    User: Toon Lover (Titles: Recognized Cartoon Expert)

    @BlueRooster

    Your roommate might be right. All thse little flames that it leave behind look too intricate to be any sort of cheap CGI. I guess he could be faking it with some of the really high end stuff, but I¡¯ve herad that those are really expensive. I could be wrong though.

    Post:4

    User: Xaenioinix(Titles: None)

    @NevaGonnaQuit

    Hey, if I got the power to throw around fire then the first thing I¡¯d do would be to get a good fire extinguisher before I started using it! look at what he¡¯s doing on his patio, where there is NO EASILY BURNING STUFF NEARBY! If you¡¯re gonna set fire to something then make sure it¡¯s not anywhere near

    Post:5

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Thanks, I¡¯ll let him know someone agrees eith him.

    Post:6

    User: NevaGonnaQuit!!! (Titles: None)

    @Xaenioinix

    Demigod are meant to have total control as soon as they get their powers! If hes pussyfooting it then he¡¯s either a fake or hes go no balls.

    Post:7

    User: Xaenioinix(Titles: None)

    @NevaGonnaQuit

    Just cause he¡¯s got some common sense doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s a coward. Making sure he doesn¡¯t burn his place down means he¡¯s sensible.

    Post:8

    User: NevaGonnaQuit!!! (Titles: None)

    @Xaenioinix

    And you thinking like that just means that you;ve got no balls either!

    Post:9

    User: Toon Lover (Titles: Recognized Cartoon Expert)

    @NevaGonnaQuit

    Hey, keep it civil! Everyone¡¯s got the right to talk here, but you know the rules about abuse.

    Post:10

    User: Xaenioinix(Titles: None)

    @NevaGonnaQuit

    I¡¯m a woman!

    Post:11

    User: NevaGonnaQuit!!! (Titles: None)

    @Xaenioinix

    Guess that explains why you¡¯re a pussy instead of having any balls then.

    Post:12

    User: Xaenioinix(Titles: Temp banned)

    <u>This user has received a 10 day ban due to abusive language and personal comments exceeding the rules of this thread. This moderator recognizes that you were provoked, but that does not excuse the breaking of the rules. Please take some time to calm down. </u>

    <u>Moderator: Copper Guardian</u>

    Post:13

    User: NevaGonnaQuit!!! (Titles: Temp Blocked)

    <u>This user has been Blocked from any interactions on this site for 30 days due to abusive language, and blatant misogyny greatly exceeding the rules of this thread and site. Please take this time to calm down and remember that the moderators of this site keep a tight lid on such behaviour. Note: This is your second major infraction.</u>

    <u>Moderator: Copper Guardian</u>

    Post:14

    User: Toon Lover (Titles: Recognized Cartoon Expert)

    @NevaGonnaQuit and @Xaenioinix

    Come on guys, your going to drag the mods in on this. Cant you just stick to the original topic?

    Post:15

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Too late! I think that might have been a recod, not even 20 posts in and we¡¯ve already got two users banned. \(¡°)/

    Post:16

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    Getting back to the original topic, if this guy¡¯s on the level then has he mentioned what he plans to do? What he¡¯s showing isn¡¯t too powerful, but once he hits his stride he can probably do some major stuff. Do you think he¡¯ll be signing up with the german government?

    Post:17

    User: TrueLies222 (Titles: Well Behaved)

    Hard to say. Things are pretty weird in Germany right now, though it hasn¡¯t come to violence yet. They¡¯d love another demigod on the payroll, but only if he¡¯s reliable. If he plays his cards right he could name his price, but if he¡¯s not careful he might end up stepping on Odin;s toes.

    Post:18

    User: RainingMen (Titles: None)

    Not sure if this helps, but another site is saying that a new demigod fought some sort of tree spirit near Leipzig. He was throwing fire around, but you can¡¯t get a good look at him. Seems kinda like the guy in BlueRooster¡¯s video, so this might be the same guy. If it is then it looks like he¡¯s at least trying to save people. Here¡¯s a link [LINK]. I know its in german. They¡¯re basically saying that the spirit came in and started to wreck stuff, then this demigod showed up to fight her. He drives her off, then sticks around to help with the fallout. Looks like this one might be agoood one.

    Post:19

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    Good to see another demigod that¡¯s decent. Has anyone found out who he¡¯s descended from? Is he a child or a legacy?

    Post:20

    User: RainingMen (Titles: None)

    No info yet. Several government types have been seen talking to him, but there¡¯s nothing official out yet.

    Post:21

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Well, guess all we can do is hope. If it¡¯s the same guy then I¡¯m pretty sure that he¡¯s the decent type, and the video was nicely done . . . like is said, hope for the best.

    Post:22

    User: SunshineSunny:D (Titles: Hollywood Starlet, Official Info Source, Smug Kitty)

    Hey there to all my favourite readers! This is your favourite Hollywood actress with the latest big scoop, and this time its is something JUICY!

    Okay seriously, this is pretty big. I was just having my lunch break when there was this big rush, people running in and out of the studio, the boss locking himself up, the works. Me, I was left holding my bagel and wondering just what the hell was going on. It wasn¡¯t until I looked in on one of my friends Ispace that I learnt what was going on.

    Get this; Apollo just called a major press conference, one that nobody knew what it was about. At his request they were keeping everything hush hush, but a few minutes ago he revealed it and everyone went ballistic! He introduced a new demigod, a sixteen year old girl called Christine Shellber, and the awesome thing? She¡¯s a legacy of Apollo!

    Yup, that¡¯s right! Hollywood¡¯s uncrowned king now has a princess!

    What makes it even bigger is that Apollo announced that she wouldn¡¯t be signing on with his agency, or even his studio, she¡¯s completely independent! I shouldn¡¯t need to tell you how big of a deal this is, but in case you don¡¯t know let me spell it out. Apollo is pure cinematic gold, as in absolutely everything he¡¯s involved in turns so profitable you¡¯d think his mere presence makes existing money pregnant so it starts to multiply! Films, commercials, billboards, you name it, if Apollo is on board then its going to be a runaway success! Everyone wants a piece of him, but he¡¯s already got the connections and the money to only do what he wants.

    Now here is Christine, his legacy, and one that seems to have inherited his looks and his acting talent. They¡¯ve released a video clip from the conference, and she did some random acting just to show what she could do. I don¡¯t know if it was staged, or if it was just her taking random suggestions like it looked, but either way, she was amazing! Then you¡¯ve got her connection to Apollo, and his acknowledgement of her.

    Put simply, she¡¯d be publicity gold if she was just slightly good looking and was just a decent actress, and that would guarantee she¡¯d be getting some offers from the top agencies and studios. We¡¯re talking the sorts of offers that come with seven figure numbers on them, understand? But, the thing is that she isn¡¯t slightly good looking or a decent actress. She¡¯s supernaturally beautiful and a freakin AMAZING actress!

    The studios are going to go to firkin WAR over her! I¡¯m talking backroom deals, threats, blackmail, favour dealing, and enough money being thrown around to float a aircraft carrier, maybe even literally! Hell, if some people end up disappearing over the next few days I wouldn¡¯t be surprised, there¡¯s been blood shed in Hollywoood for less in the past.

    Anyway, there you go, a direct update from everyone¡¯s favourite sunnyside girl!

    Ciao!

    Post:23

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    It¡¯s confirmed! SunshineSunny managed to get that to us a full seven minutes before the official release was let out. There are links down below.

    [LINK]

    [LINK]

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Post:24

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    Hey, do you think she¡¯ll be able to speed up movie production like Apollo? It¡¯s awesome that he cane pump out the movies every month, but I¡¯d like to see some stuff without him in it, yknow?

    Post:25

    User: SunshineSunny:D (Titles: Hollywood Starlet, Official Info Source, Smug Kitty)

    Like I said, it¡¯ll probably be a while until the dust settles. Last I heard there was practically a bidding war going on, and not just with money. According to some leaked stuff Christine is getting offers of her pick of real estate in some of the highest end places, promises of exclusive image rights, total freedom on what kind of movie she¡¯d want to make, even some marriage proposals! Things are going nuts, its like every player has been saving their ammo for when the next big star comes out, and now that Christine is here they¡¯re all throwing all their firepower into trying to get her to sign with them!

    Y¡¯know, I don¡¯t say this often, but I¡¯m glad that I¡¯m with one of the smaller studios. Since we can¡¯t get in the ring with the big boys we should be able to fly under the firefight. This coming mess is the sort of thing where reputations, careers, and even whole fortunes are going to be in the lists of casualties.

    I¡¯m pretty interested in whats going to happen next!

    Post:26

    User: HotRodHotter (Titles: BANNED AND BLOCKED)

    <u>This user has been Banned and Blocked permanently from any interactions on this site due to abusive language, rampant misogyny, and sexual references in regard to a minor. God Damn it man, she</u><u>¡¯</u><u>s only sixteen, what is wrong with you?!</u>

    <u>Moderator: Copper Guardian</u>

    Post:27

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    @HotRodHotter

    What the fuck man?!

    Edit: Good to see he was banned! Nice work moderator.

    Post:28

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @Moderators

    Please get rid of the obscenity above please! I know that that crap doesn¡¯t fly here!

    Edit: Thanks.

    Post:29

    User: SunshineSunny:D (Titles: Hollywood Starlet, Official Info Source, Smug Kitty)

    Hey! Christine¡¯s a nice girl! If you want to indulge in your sad little fantasies about someone so far out of your league that you aren¡¯t qualified in lick the dogshit from her heel inside your own head then fine. But don¡¯t put your loser rapist delusions where we have to look at them!

    Edit: Thanks moderators, now I¡¯ll just need a few tequilas to help me forget that bullshit. Who was that moron?

    Post:30

    User: RainingMen (Titles: None)

    @SunshineSunny:D

    As far as we can tell he¡¯s this guy who keeps on using new details to make new profiles. I think he¡¯s been perma banned and blocked something like seven times now, but for some reason he keepson coming back. He¡¯s always putting up stuff like that, we try to ignore it, but he uses different names. Makes it hard to avoid getting mentally scarred by reading it.

    Anyway, change of topic. Why¡¯d you say that Christine¡¯s a nice girl? Have you met her?

    Post:31

    User: SunshineSunny:D (Titles: Hollywood Starlet, Official Info Source, Smug Kitty)

    @RainingMen

    No, but I¡¯ve been watching her videos, the ones her friends and family have been putting up at her request. It¡¯s a pretty smart publicity move, since it lets people have a better idea of what she¡¯s like as a person. Even better, some of these videos are from back when she was as young as eleven, so unless they¡¯ve been planning this for years then it must be genuine. Looks like she was always a looker, even before she became a demigod, and it looks like she¡¯s always wanted to be an actress. Anyway, the thing that stood out for all of them was just how damned adorable and earnest she was. I mean seriously, watching that video her practice her lines for an audition when she was twelve is just weapons grade cute! She keeps on making mistakes, but she keeps on trying, it really makes you root for her!

    I¡¯m completely serious here, if she¡¯d been able to share this stuff with a decent publicity agent and managed to get some coverage then she;d have been a shoein for stardom. I can think of at least half a dozen studios that could have made commercial gold out of this. Well, guess they¡¯re all kicking themselves now for not giving her a chance!

    Here are links to her videos. [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK] [LINK]

    Yes, there are a lot of them.

    Post:32

    User: SamsonofSam1984 (Titles: Movie Buff)

    If this girl is going to be hitting the movie scene do you think that she could play the part of a grown up Alicia in a Black Ice sequel? It would be awesome to have Apollo¡¯s legacy play the part of his caharacter¡¯s daughter in a sequel film!

    Post:33

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    @SamsonofSam1984

    Really, a sequel to Black Ice? Come on, he was way better in Excelsior, and that film was way more popular! If she¡¯s going to be playing any role across from him then it should be as Pamela, especially if she can use any other powers.

    Post:34

    User: SamsonofSam1984 (Titles: Movie Buff)

    Yeah, it might have been more popular, but superhero films are kind of a dying genre, what with real gods and monsters being about. Sinc ethe comic book companies took a major hit to their sales they¡¯ve kinda been reeling, so I¡¯m not sure a sequel will get funding. Black Ice was set in the world after the Black Sun, making it more believable and enjoyable. It getting a sequal looks more likely!

    Post:35

    User: Woodenwood (Titles: Well Behaved)

    @SamsonofSam1984

    Okay, you might have a point, but I bet New Look Back would get a sequel before Black Ice. That¡¯s already a shoe in for at least a couple of academy awards, and that¡¯s without bringing Apollo into it.

    Post:36

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @Woodenwood and @SomsonofSam1984

    Come on guys, there¡¯s a thread for discussions on Apollo¡¯s movies. No derailing the thread here. This is to discuss new, or possibly new, demigods. So, back to Christine, or move onto someone new.

    Post:37

    User: Games of the King |\/\/\/| (Titles: Games Master)

    @Anyone who¡¯s in the know.

    Can anyone tell me when the last confirmed new demigod appeared in the Uk? I know it¡¯s a bit off topic, but this is the closest thread to it I can find. Any help would be appreciated.

    Post:38

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    It is a bit off topic, but okay. Give me a couple of minutes and I¡¯ll be right back. Just got to look it up in my files.

    Post:39

    User: AndyAndy (Titles: None)

    @ Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    So, what are you looking for?

    Post:40

    User: Games of the King |\/\/\/| (Titles: Games Master)

    @BlueRooster

    Thanks, I¡¯ll be here.

    @AndyAndy

    A friend of a friend got involved with someone that claimed to be a demigod, a new one. I¡¯m trying to follow up on it to see if they were on the up and up.

    Post:41

    User: MordredWasABitch (Titles: None)

    @ Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    You know that the King doesn¡¯t let demigods run wild in his territory, right? Any of them start any shit here they end up getting Excalibur rammed down their throats!

    Post:42

    User: DustinDusty (Titles: None)

    @MordredWasaBitch

    Yeah, but what happens to the ones that toe the line? Sure, you hear about some demigods starting businesses or joining the local militia groups that are sprinign up, but all of them are pretty minor powerwise. What about the stronger demigods that awaken in the UK, what do you think is happening to them?

    Post:43

    User: MordredWasABitch (Titles: None)

    @DustinDusty

    Hey, what are you implying? The King would never lock up or put down anyone that didn¡¯t have it coming! He¡¯s had a freaking angel appear in front of Buckingham palace to declare him the legit deal! Do you think that someone Heaven gave their approval stamp on is going to be doing black bag disappearances?

    Post:44

    User: AndyAndy (Titles: None)

    @MordredWasaBitch

    I think your right that King Arthur woulndt be part of any such operation, but you¡¯ve got to remember that the political situation in the UK is all over the place at the moment. Given how many different directions the political factions are pulling in I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if a more militant one was doing their best to recruit all the powerful demiogds they could. Even if some of those recruits weren¡¯t coming willingly.

    Post:45

    User: ServantofPluto (Titles: Conspiracy Enthusiast)

    @Everyone

    Come on people! Don¡¯t bury your heads in the sand! Upcoming demigods and magic users are the current hot resource for every nation in the world that wants to have a seat at the table. The next arms race is here, and its for divine bloodlines!

    Post:46

    User: AlbionDefender (Titles: Confirmed Patriot)

    <u>This user has received a 10 day ban due </u><u>the intentional derailment</u><u> of this thread </u><u>by posting an article supporting his political view</u><u>. This moderator recognizes that you </u><u>are sincere in your wish to get your viewpoint across to others</u><u>, but that does not excuse the breaking of the rules. Please take some time to </u><u>reflect upon your actions</u><u>. </u>

    <u>Moderator: Copper Guardian</u>

    Post:47

    User: AndyAndy (Titles: None)

    Yikes! What was that? I didn¡¯t even know you could post that much in one go!

    Post:48

    User: CookingForThree (Titles: Not a Cook)

    @AndyAndy

    Don¡¯t let it get to you, it¡¯ll probably be gone as soon as the mods notice it. AlbionDefender is a nice guy, but he¡¯s got some hardcore views against King Arthur taking full rule of the UK. Don¡¯t get him wrong, he¡¯s not one of those guys that want to kick the King out of the country, he just thinks that power isn¡¯t a good enough reason for the overturning of legal authority. He keeps on putting those articles up whenever the King id mentioned.

    Post:49

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    Okay, I¡¯m back.

    According to my sources the last officially recognized demigod to awaken in the UK was Sandra Martinson, a confirmed Legacy of the Norse god Vidar. She apparently possesses greatly enhanced strength, endurance and durability, though there are hints that she¡¯s got some minor powers that she hasn¡¯t made official. Her official debut was about three weeks ago, but was kept on the downlow at her request. By the looks of thigs she wants to fly under the radar, not be in the spotlight or anything. My last info states that she¡¯s undertaking training to get some sort of qualification to sell her services as a bodyguard. Does that help?

    Post:50

    User: Games of the King |\/\/\/| (Titles: Games Master)

    @BlueRooster

    And there¡¯s been nothing else? Not even unofficial stuff?

    Post:51

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    Nothing that really stands out. There was some guy in Birmingham who was claiming to be a healer, but that turned out just to be some sort of scam artist. When one of the King¡¯s knights showed up to see if he was the real deal he was exposed and arrested. Apart from that there¡¯s just been the usual rumours and hoaxes, nothing that¡¯s been loud enough for my contacts to take any notice of.

    Post:52

    User: Games of the King |\/\/\/| (Titles: Games Master)

    @BlueRooster

    Thanks. I admit that¡¯s not what I wanted to hear, but it does mean I know where not to look now.

    One other thing. I know it isn¡¯t quite on topic with this thread, but do you know if Joan of Arc has been seen returning? I mean, if we get King Arthur and Saint George coming back then wouldn¡¯t she be a pretty likely candidate for a resurrection?

    Post:53

    User: MordredWasABitch (Titles: None)

    @EVERYONE

    Hey! HEY! KING ARTHUR X JOAN OF ARC! IT¡¯S THE OTP!!!

    Thanks for the idea, I¡¯m going to try and write a fic on it, see on the story threads!

    Post:54

    User: CookingForThree (Titles: Not a Cook)

    And so a thousand trashy Legendfics were born! Does the fact that I think King A X Joan of A might be interesting make me a bad person?

    Post:55

    User: BlueRooster (Titles: Threadmaster)

    No, no fanfic ideas on this thread, keep to the topic guys!

    @Games of the King |\/\/\/|

    Okay, I¡¯ll answer this, but then we stay on topic, okay?

    There have been no confirmed sightings of Joan of Arc, however there was a lot of unofficial publicity on her supposed return a few weeks ago. Some people were declaring very loudly that she¡¯d be returning, but then the same group ended up going suspiciously quiet just after she was meant to arrive. There was a lot of speculation about it, but the fact that they just clammed up, no excuses or retractions or anything like that, got some peoples attentions. Below is a link that should lead to the place where I found out about it. if you want to know more try working from there.

    [LINK]

    Post:56

    User: Games of the King |\/\/\/| (Titles: Games Master)

    @BlueRooster

    Thanks, this might be just what I was looking for. Thanks for bearing with me!

    Post:57

    User: JungleJim (Titles: None)

    Here¡¯s a video that was just uploaded onto the internet! Looks like another demigod awoke in Africa and is trying to fight the warlords on the Congo border, and he¡¯s using parrots made out of FIRE! How awesome is that?! Chek out the [LINK]

    -\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-

    Doug sighed as he closed the computer window and leaned back in his chair. On the screen before him, the other forum users continued to discuss the new demigod¡¯s videos, but that was of no interest to him.

    Another dead end. Well, he hadn¡¯t been expecting too much, but BlueRooster had a good reputation on the net for being well-informed and well-connected. He¡¯d been hoping he¡¯d maybe get at least a starting point to work from, but it didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d been lucky enough.

    Well, in a way this constant running into dead ends was heartening. No news was good news, right? If nothing had made it to the point where people were talking about it then that meant that nothing major had happened, right? Given that one of the most famous saints in the world was involved then surely it would be all over the internet.

    ¡°Damn it, Adam,¡± He muttered as he heaved himself to his feet. ¡°Why¡¯d you have to make things so complicated?¡±

    He winced as the familiar pain throbbed in his legs, but it wasn¡¯t anything he wasn¡¯t used to. It was irritating, but right now he was hungry, and he didn¡¯t want to have to deal with the headache that would follow if he didn¡¯t get some food in his stomach.

    Chris was out again, so the house seemed oddly quiet. At this time of the day, Adam was usually in, cooking something for the rest of them to share. His skinny housemate was no great cook, but the fact was both Doug and Chris were worse. Either of them could prepare food well enough to keep themselves going, but not well enough to make for a happy experience. So, when Adam had agreed to be the resident cook after sampling Chris¡¯ attempt at making a Sunday roast, there had been much rejoicing.

    Of course, he hadn¡¯t done it for free. His doing the cooking meant that his roommates were stuck with things like cleaning and laundry duty. It was a system that had worked, and why they¡¯d been able to live together so smoothly.

    With Adam gone now . . . it left a hole, and Doug disliked it.

    It wasn¡¯t just the chores, it was the general atmosphere, the feel of the house. Chris was the guy with the energy, the charisma, the drive. Doug, if he had to be honest with himself, was the more indolent of them, the guy who liked to take things easy, to just enjoy stuff. Adam was the midpoint between the two of them, the peacekeeper and the deciding vote, the reliable guy in the middle. The three of them together balanced each other out. With Adam gone . . .

    Well, it wasn¡¯t as though he and Chris had been at each other¡¯s throats or anything like that. The two of them had been friends for years, but there had been some friction between them since Adam had left. Nothing major, just little things, but little things tended to mount up over time, and Doug knew that if left alone for too long things could turn sour.

    Opening the fridge Doug pulled out some bread, ham and cheese, and set about making a sandwich. As he did he noted small details around the kitchen. The saucepan that Adam had received as a Christmas gift, a set of knives he¡¯d bought himself, an old cast iron frying pan that he refused to throw out, despite it being older than all three housemates put together.

    There was lots of stuff like that around, all things belonging to their missing housemate. So far, they hadn¡¯t done anything with them, no packing them away or anything like that. They had kept on cleaning his room with the rest of the house. Even going to the trouble of airing it out. They hadn¡¯t really talked about it, but there was a sort of unspoken agreement between them. They¡¯d keep things ready for Adam, ready for him to return if he wanted to. They missed him.

    Still, Adam . . . a demigod, it seemed like some sort of crazy joke!

    Doug had been filled in on what had happened when he¡¯d returned home. He¡¯d seen the letter Adam left and had spoken to his parents. At first, it had just seemed so unreal. Adam West, the guy who loved superhero films, who hated being cooped up, who overslept every chance he got, he was a demigod? It just wouldn¡¯t fit into his head.

    But then he¡¯d gone and taken a look at the tree, the one outside their house, the one Adam swore had been cut down in front of him by a sword made of light. Sure enough, even though it was still in one piece there was a line part-way up the trunk, and at that line, the top and bottom didn¡¯t quite match, as though the tree had been badly stuck together with glue. That was evidence right there, enough that Doug had to accept that at the very least Adam had been conned by someone with real powers.

    Would a demigod be returning to live somewhere like this? Would he come home and carry on at the local coffee shop? Would he still be aiming to go to university?

    No, Doug didn¡¯t think so, not if he was really being honest with himself.

    Demigods were becoming the new superstars, the new hot topics, the new shiny commodity. Even those that didn¡¯t try to make a splash were sought after. A restaurant could charge absurd amounts for so-called magical food, and a concert with a singing demigod could sell out in a way only the greatest rock stars could manage. Demigods could profit extensively from such skills, making the sort of money you¡¯d expect from the likes of neurosurgeons or top-tier lawyers.

    That was the kind of world that Adam had been dropped into. And, on top of this, he had the dubious honour of an added level of complication since he apparently already had the attention of divine-level movers and shakers. Doug couldn¡¯t even wrap his head around the implications of Joan of FREAKING Arc being sent down from heaven itself to protect Adam. The notion that God, as in the supreme being he¡¯d gone to church with his grandmother to pray to, was paying attention to the guy that still owed Doug thirty bucks . . .

    How likely was it that someone like that was going to be coming back to this place? Hell, would it even be sensible for him to try it? Assuming that he didn¡¯t bring any dangers that were chasing after him there¡¯d still be the inevitable horde of paparazzi that chased after any revealed demigod they could find. What kind of life would that be? Would it be any life at all? Would he be able to have a girlfriend? What about his parents? What about his friends?

    Adam¡¯s friend finished making his sandwich and carried it back to his room, still lost in his thoughts.

    Maybe Adam wouldn¡¯t be able to come home, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that both his friends here cared about what had happened to him. Doug wanted to at least know what was going on with him, but it seemed that after he left, his skinny friend had fallen off the radar.

    For a moment the gamer wondered just where his friend might have gone. He¡¯d been taken to become a demigod, so . . . maybe some sort of hidden monastery? Some hidden and mystical location, staffed with mages and fighters who would work to train those with divine blood into warriors to protect the world. Maybe Adam wasn¡¯t even the only one there, maybe there would be a team of them, trained to work together to bring down the sorts of threats that might threaten the world!

    A snort of laughter escaped through his nose as he sat down at his computer again. It sounded like the plot of some cheap Hollywood film desperate to tap into the public''s fervour and fascination with all things divinely related.

    Whatever the case, Doug was sure they¡¯d be hearing about him sooner or later. The gamer just hoped that wherever his friend was he was keeping a cool head because Doug was pretty sure he¡¯d need it.

 Chapter 7: Make the World Stir: Part One

    Chapter 7: Make the World Stir

    The robed figure thought of Marcello with both pity and envy.

    The acolyte had not been happy to receive an unwanted guest, but he had proven to be more . . . tolerable than expected.  He didn¡¯t seek to selfishly take advantage of their painstakingly gathered mystic tomes.  He did not try to force his presence upon his host in some effort to ingratiate himself with them.  He didn¡¯t over-avail himself of the luxuries the castle offered.  He was a civilized guest.

    There had been an equilibrium between them, a balance of power that each had wordlessly come to accept.  More than that after the failed attempt to seize the demigod there had been a shared sense of urgency.  They had failed in the task set to them by their patron and both of them had shared a desperation to do something, anything, to survive.  For that reason Marcello was trusted with the negotiations with the immortal that he had contacted.  The robed mage had felt that the urgency of their situation would be enough to keep him on task, to not make promises they could not honour.

    But now . . . now the wealthy mage thought they might have been wrong.  Perhaps they had been too trusting, perhaps they had allowed their normal suspicion and caution to slip due to the pressure of the situation they were under.

    But maybe that had been a mistake.

    When Marcello had returned with the remains of the stone egg the robed figure had been overjoyed.  Such potent reagents were all but guaranteed to placate any anger that might still be burning in the heart of their patron. And, more importantly, it would ensure their own skins remained intact, unmarred by heated pincers, or more esoteric tools of torture.  For the first few hours after their ally had returned the wealthy magic user had been largely content with the situation.

    Then the initial rush of relief had worn off, and cold reality had begun to encroach upon their thoughts.

    What had he offered in order to walk away with such a prize?  What possible price could he have paid in order to attain such potent remains?  More and more their thoughts had begun to spiral into a descent of suspicion and worry.  The scarred mage couldn¡¯t possibly have paid what those shards of stone were worth, that was a simple fact, so how had he been able to convince the immortal to part with them?  Had he made promises?  Promises on not only his behalf but also on the part of his fellow acolyte?  What could he have offered up?  What had been promised without any consultation?

    Such thoughts had been like an infected wound, constantly festering and worsening as time passed.  The robed mage had done their best to keep such postulations under control, but it had been to no avail.

    Then Marcello had revealed what else he had gained from the pact, the geass-bound imprint worked onto his flesh.  The geass-bound imprint that served as a second mana pool.  The secondary mana pool that threatened to upset the balance between them.

    Was that just a coincidence?  To have gained not only the shards of the Monkey King¡¯s egg but also something that strengthened him so . . .

    WHAT HAD HE PAID?!

    The geass within the imprint was real.  If he failed to uphold his side of the bargain then his ability to use magic would be stripped from him, and in an extremely painful manner too.  It was a terrible sword to have hanging over one¡¯s head.  In truth, had the robed figure been offered the same deal then it would have been accepted.  Regardless of the looming threat, such a chance to expand their power would have been difficult to refuse.

    However, it had been Marcello who gained the new well of power for his use, and that was the problem.  Since the two of them had met they had been matched in power, but it had been the robed host that had been the dominant one in the ¡®relationship¡¯, as it were.  Seniority as a servant of their patron and being the owner of their base of operations had ensured their role as leader.

    The Acolyte pulled at their robes, privately cursing the need to wear them all the time as they did.  The secrecy was annoying but necessary.  When they¡¯d set foot on this path they¡¯d made rules for themselves, means to keep strict separations between their life in the mundane world and their life as a magic user.

    They had so much to lose.  Reputation, position, trust, influence, all of them were powers that the Acolyte had spent their life cultivating, and all of them were powers that could be lost if their use of magic became widely known.

    With the arrival of the Legends, the general view of magic see-sawed wildly in the public mind.  One day magic users were seen as heroes, mortals seizing the power of the gods to help mankind.  On other days magic users were seen as dangerous fools consorting with unknowable powers and putting everyone around them in danger.

    The Acolyte had no desire to fall into either category, to have their public persona come under scrutiny, hence their near-obsessive maintenance of secrecy.  Marcello lived with them and it was unlikely that the scarred mage was even aware of their fellow practitioner¡¯s gender, let alone their identity.

    Well, regardless of secrecy or public identities the current situation was clear enough.  Power was needed.

    Before the Black Sun power had been an . . . undefined concept.  For some, it was reputation, the sort that meant that when they gave a command, made a request, or even implied something, and then others would leap to see it done.  There was the power of rank, of being in a position where other were obligated to obey by custom and duty, though there the power belonged to the station rather than the individual.  For others, there was wealth, possessions that could be traded, bartered away so as to receive something in return, again, it was also a fragile power, but it was a common one and one that was easier to attain.  Then there was the power that could come from allies or backers, those willing to share their power for a price, but such power was dependent upon others.

    The power the robed figure needed was of a more concrete sort, something that belonged to them and no other.  Once it could come by holding a weapon, and in the passage of history it had gone from clubs to blades, to guns, and then to the fearsome nuclear weapons of the world.  In more recent days it was also the power that most of the gods and demons wielded, the power of strength that could shatter steel, control the elements, to kill with a glance and a whim.  That was the power they wanted, the power that came from one¡¯s self, or from what you held.

    Their patron had granted them power, his gifts had augmented their internal reserves, strengthened their mystic veins and even awakened dormant traits in their blood.  He had also provided the Acolyte with knowledge, means to practice, spells to learn, information to absorb.  It had allowed the robed spellcaster to grow in powers swiftly, but there had been some drawbacks.  Without the time to establish firm foundations, they had reached a point of diminishing returns.

    That was what they were trying to correct now.  After all, they could hardly allow themselves to be overtaken by Marcello, even if it was due to the aid of the Witch of Camelot.  The Acolyte was one of the strongest mortal servants of their god, and they were unwilling to let that position slip from their grasp.

    Of course, gaining the resources needed to solidify hastily built foundations was not a trivial thing.  And as such, it required great power to attain.

    ¡°Mortal, why have you summoned me to this place?¡±

    The creature that spoke was a bizarre combination of a man, a snake and a scorpion.  It towered over the Acolyte, only contained by the glowing circle of lines and symbols the magic user had painstakingly inscribed upon the chamber¡¯s stone.  A bearded human head with a handsome face sat atop a chitinous body with six scorpion-like pincers for arms and a long serpent¡¯s body below.  Grey smoke seemed to waft from the creature at random points, curling into the air and then fading away.  Still, despite its unnerving form, the most unsettling feature were its eyes.  Each was a tiny blue star burning in a pitch-black void, as though two patches of the night sky had been cut away and plastered onto the being¡¯s face.

    ¡°I have called you to bargain.¡± The Acolyte replied, their voice steady, and their form betraying none of their fear.

    And they had good reason to be afraid.  This creature was a djinn, a being of magic and knowledge.  In modern times people who heard the name Djinn immediately thought of genies, a mistake made popular through fairytales and modern media.  What everyone seemed to forget was that the most famous of genies, those that appeared in the Arabian Nights stories, were slaves, powerful servants bound to obey.

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    Djinn, real djinn, were creatures akin to angels, in that they weren¡¯t gods or born of the earth.  They were beings of spirit and power, but not of heaven, they were creatures of smoke and fire, but not of hell.  They were not all good, nor were they all evil.  They were a breed apart.

    However, one thing the legends got right was that they were powerful.

    They also were much more reasonable than demons to cut a deal with, which was why the Acolyte had decided to go down this particular route.  Sure, to look at them there wasn¡¯t much difference between a demon and a djinn, but to those who knew it was the difference between success and damnation.

    ¡°And what do you desire, little mortal spellcaster?  And what are you willing to pay in exchange?¡±

    ¡°I wish to strengthen my core of magic and my mana veins.  I wish for some method to reinforce the foundations of my magic.  In payment . . .¡±

    The Acolyte paused for a moment, then stepped to the side, revealing what their robed figure had concealed.  It was an open chest.  Within were glass jars, some small, some large, all holding something.  One held a human eye floating in some sort of preserving fluid.  One held several live butterflies.  Another had golden coins, another seemed filled with nothing but sand.  It was a strange and eclectic mix, but it drew the eyes of the djinn like a cat having spied an unaware mouse.

    ¡°Trinkets,¡± It said, though the greed in its voice was at odds with its choice of words. ¡°But carefully selected trinkets.  I can feel the emotions within each of them, the grief in one, the rage in another, the joy in one more.  Yes, they are well chosen.¡±

    The powerful being paused, and even though its eyes were as alien as the stars above, the Acolyte was sure they saw calculation in them.

    ¡°Yes, these shall buy you what you wish.  A small treasure, not a great prize, but sufficient for what you wish.¡±

    Beneath their robes and spells the Acolyte felt a smile pull at their lips.  Yes, this was what they¡¯d wanted.  They didn¡¯t want some mighty artefact, such as Morgan la Fey had offered Marcello.  Their needs were more modest, something powerful but not earthshaking.  The contents of the chest had been items that were emotionally charged, treats that the djinn could feast upon at its leisure.  They had been somewhat difficult to collect, but money talked, and there were always those who wanted it enough to do strange things.

    ¡°What exactly do they get me?¡±

    The Acolyte knew that had to be careful.  Djinn were less likely to screw you over than devils, but there were still plenty of them that would delight in tormenting a mortal that summoned them.  Ask for a dead loved one back and you¡¯d end up with a hungry undead.  Ask for power and you¡¯d end up burning with it from the inside out.  Ask for knowledge and you be driven mad by the overload of information being forced into your mind.  It wasn¡¯t every time, not even every other time, but it happened often enough that those who dealt in summoning knew to watch their words and watch their step.

    In response to the question, the djinn tilted its head slightly, regarding its summoner like a butcher eyeing a bull.  What could it get away with, how vulnerable was the target, and was it worth it?

    ¡°You wish to solidify your foundations?  Yes . . . I can see why you would wish that.  Too much power, too fast, too soon, and now you wish to eliminate that weakness.  Very well, I believe . . . yes, this should serve well.¡±

    As he spoke one of the scorpion claws extended, and the robed magic user could see something . . . slide into being at the end of the claw.  It wasn¡¯t large, but as it came into being they had the impression it was being drawn there from somewhere else, not created on the spot.

    The object was small, dark and shrivelled, but it could be recognised as some sort of fruit.  Though it looked like something that should have been found in some forgotten corner of a larder magic radiated from it in a constant thrum.  Whatever it was, it was strong, deep.  It wasn¡¯t flashy, and it wasn¡¯t loud, instead, it was . . .  profound was the best word that the Acolyte could think of.

    ¡°And what is this?¡±

    Even though they had already chosen to take it the robed magic user was still cautious.  Yes, there was power there, but every little bit they knew about it could be invaluable.

    ¡°I present you with a fruit from the Garden of Eden.  Though it is dried and withered it still possesses some remnants of its lost glory.  Consume it and your craft and knowledge shall be empowered, the foundations of your magic made firm as granite stone.¡±

    Deep inside the Acolyte¡¯s heart a sharp spike of greed shot out.  Even if it was just a remnant that fruit was exactly what they wanted.

    It was a little-known fact that when Adam and Eve were cast from Eden they didn¡¯t leave empty-handed.  Though they couldn¡¯t bring any fruits from the forbidden tree that they¡¯d eaten from, they were allowed to take other fruits and seeds with them, a mercy to ease their future toil.  Those fruits and seeds had been grown, and eventually, more seeds had grown and been planted, then they had been harvested and so on.  Supposedly almost all fruit trees were descended from those original trees, but that was not important.  What mattered was that the first generation, the trees grown from the fruits taken from Eden, had retained some of the Garden¡¯s power, its purity and, most importantly, its knowledge.

    In some mystic works the Garden of Eden was likened to the Akashic Record in that it was a place where all conceivable knowledge and information existed and could be accessed.  Consuming fruits from the Tree of Knowledge might have been an interpretation of early humanity accessing some knowledge they were not meant to possess.  It was only a theory, but one that carried some weight.

    Fruits like these, fruits that carried a remnant of Eden within them, could provide something indefinable, not knowledge, not information.  Rather they could grant a moment of . . . brilliance, of inspiration, a moment where you were finally struck by the realization of how to finally solve the problem that had been plaguing you.  if the Acolyte ate it then they would know how to solidify their foundation, how to perfectly slot together all the disparate pieces into one cohesive and solid whole.

    Exactly what they wanted!

    Desperately trying not to appear too eager the robed mage reached into the circle and took the fruit.  There was no effort at a double-cross on the djinn¡¯s side, so the Acolyte gestured, and magic picked up the chest and carried it over to the powerful creature.  The exchange was complete, yet the djinn did not fade away.

    ¡°There is more,¡± It said, its voice almost honied. ¡°You have given me a fine bounty, I am willing to provide a small . . . gift to go with your chosen purchase.¡±

    Immediately the Acolyte felt their elation fade and be replaced with wariness.  A gift from a djinn was almost as dangerous as a deal or a wish.  Sure, there was a slightly better chance that it was given sincerely, but even so, the gift of a djinn could well be poison prettily wrapped.  Frantically the robed mage reviewed their interactions.  Had they done anything that could constitute an insult to the summoned being?  They could not think of anything, they had been as polite as they could while maintaining a position of strength.  They had offered fair trade, not demanding too much while offering too little.

    Could this gift be sincere?  Could they risk taking it?   Could they risk refusing it?

    Inspiration hit, a diplomatic way to decline.

    ¡°My thanks for the offer, but I believe we have bargained fairly.  I would not want to create a debt between us, even if it is a debt formed on friendship, I hope you shall understand.¡±

    ¡°Oh, what I offer is but a small thing, I would not wish to try to place you under obligation to me.¡± The djinn¡¯s voice was the very picture of polite disagreement, but there was an edge there, subtle and hidden, but sharp enough to draw blood. ¡°It is merely a small whisper I heard, but one that came from a reliable source.¡±

    Just information?  Well, information of the right sort could be as deadly to the receiver as a dagger to the heart.  Still, subtle though it was the Acolyte could see that that djinn wasn¡¯t going to take no for an answer.  It had its own agenda, and passing on this knowledge seemed to be part of it.  It was a risk, but it was probably best not to fight it.

    ¡°If that is the case, then I would be happy to hear whatever you might say.  Whispers and rumours can always be important in these changeable times.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.  As I said, it is a small thing, but I thought that it might be of some interest to you.¡±

    The djinn lowered itself until they stared into the dark depths of the Acolyte¡¯s robes.  So close the differences were made all the more apparent, the scorpion claws all the more alien, those star-like eyes all the more eldritch.

    ¡°I have heard that a powerful immortal witch has returned to the mortal world.  Peer of Merlin, the bane of Camelot.  Handmaiden of Avalon.  I have heard that she has returned and that she is eyeing her old lands once more.  Make of that what you will.¡±

    The next moment the djinn was gone, smoke swirled up, obscuring its large form, then swirled, condensed, and disappeared, leaving the circle empty.  That in itself was a statement that said; yes, the djinn could be called, it could be kept in the circle, but it could have left whenever it wished.  It was a powerful statement, but at that moment the Acolyte had more pressing concerns.

    It had known about Morgan la Fey?  How?  And how much did it know?  It had mentioned it to the robed magic user, so did it know about Marcello¡¯s deal?  If it did, then how?  Neither the Acolyte nor Marcello had told anyone else about it, and they didn¡¯t see Morgan la Fey being the one to tell others.

    Was Morgan la Fey was preparing to move against Arthur?  That was not unexpected, given their antagonism was a major part of both their legends, but that it was happening so soon was.  Arthur had returned to the mortal realm more powerful than he had ever been before.

    During the time of his legend, he was a mighty king who held the most famous sword in the world.  Now he had become something more akin to a deity than even a demigod.  On top of that, he was served by the spirits of the Round Table, tied to the land, and held tremendous popularity and favour among the mortal population, almost to the point of worship.  And La Fey was planning to go up against that?

    Across the Acolyte¡¯s hidden face, a small smile spread as their gloved hand gently caressed the Fruit of Eden.

    Marcello had sworn to aid the immortal witch, and if she was aiming to attack Arthur . . .

    Perhaps the scarred mage wouldn¡¯t be a concern for much longer.

    Taking a certain amount of schadenfreude in the thought the robed magic-user turned and left the chamber.  There were still things that needed to be done before the fruit could be consumed.  Tests to make sure it was safe, preparations to make sure the maximum benefit could be extracted from it, and plans as to how their improvement would affect future efforts.

    It was a lot of work, but it would be worth it.

    After all, the Acolyte might soon be doing the work of two, should anything . . . unfortunate happen to Marcello.

 Chapter 7: Make the World Stir: Part Two

    Japan had always been on my list of places to travel to someday.

    I¡¯d always loved travel, seeing new places, new people, and new foods.  Some of my happiest childhood memories were from holidays with my parents.  We¡¯d been to places like France, Greece, and Madagascar.  Maybe that was why I liked it.  I associated holidays abroad with the great times I¡¯d had with my family back then when I was still been getting used to being part of a real family.

    After my big gap year trip, I¡¯d been planning to start saving for another one, maybe for after I finished university.  Then, along came the Black Sun, and that was goodbye to university, and any plans that I¡¯d been making.

    There were many reasons that I wanted to go and see the country of the Rising Sun.  Not least was the chance to see the infamous Tokyo Tower which was seemingly destroyed in every single Godzilla film.  But at the top of my list, I wanted to see the famed Cherry Blossoms.  Maybe I¡¯d watched too many samurai films, but I really wanted to see entire small forests of cherry trees in bloom, the petals falling in small blizzards with every little gust of wind.

    Of late the thought of the places I¡¯d once planned to visit was . . . niggling at me.  An itch that I couldn¡¯t scratch!

    I¡¯d been stuck inside the Hallowed Sanctuary for too long.  Massive as it was, it seemed to be growing smaller by the day.  I was beginning to feel shut in.

    At first, it hadn¡¯t been that bad.  There was lots of stuff to do, so I hadn¡¯t had time to think about anything other than the challenge of getting my magic under control.  But, as the days rolled by, I¡¯d found myself wanting other things, new things.

    I¡¯d been to every bit of space available in the Sanctuary, and over the last few days, I¡¯d taken to running a lap around the inner edge of the perimeter.  It was actually a pretty massive area, but my new body had loads of stamina and was pretty fast, so it made for a good workout.

    The problem was that before long the route had become familiar, stale, and generally uninteresting.  So, to liven things up I¡¯d decided to combine that with further practice in the use of my magic.

    The first thing I¡¯d done was try to use my control over earth and stone to raise a whole bunch of outcroppings and boulders along my path.  That gave me an improvised parkour course to practice, Then I improvised ponds with steppingstones, frozen puddles to slide along and more parkour obstacles.  They¡¯d all been fun enough to start with, but I soon needed something else.

    At first, I¡¯d tried reshaping the earth to form statues of stuff like cheerleaders egging me on, just for a laugh.   But I quickly found that my control wasn¡¯t fine enough to manage that successfully.  I could create human-shaped statues, but they ended up looking more like semi-melted mannequins than anything else.  I tried other stuff, making rock formations, pyramids, stairs, but none of it stayed interesting.

    Now plant manipulation was something I knew I could do, although I hadn¡¯t practised much.  Using various shades of ¡®green¡¯ magic did seem to tie into the nature of trees and other plants, but it was much harder to work with than things like sand or fire, that weren¡¯t alive.  It wasn¡¯t impossible, but it was hard.

    I¡¯d figured that was the problem, they were living beings with their own life force, I couldn¡¯t just seize control of them like I did loose pebbles.  I was sure that in time I¡¯d be able to do more, but there were two things I could do.  Firstly I could manipulate dead leaves telekinetically, whipping them around me as I ran.  The second was to enhance growth in any plant I wished, and that was the big one, the fun one.

    It had been one of the first things I¡¯d managed with my uncontrolled magic, and it hadn¡¯t taken me that long to work out how to do it at will.  I could see a lot of future potential for this magic, especially if I could learn to shape and direct the growth.  Games and books were rife with examples of elves and druids of growing fields and orchards to feed the hungry, or literal treehouses to give them homes.

    On the combat side of things . . . well, I couldn¡¯t grow a tree so fast that it would act as a catapult and send someone flying, but if I was clever about it I could use the growth to create things like hedges of thorny vines and the like.  Still, I needed more practice, so I had an idea.

    It started at breakfast when I¡¯d given into my . . . mental hunger and taken a bite out of an apple.  I¡¯d known that there¡¯d be no taste, and even though I wasn¡¯t physically hungry I was starting to really miss any sort of food.

    I think it was a sort of almost morbid curiosity that led to me taking a second bite of the tasteless apple, then a third, each bite going deeper until I¡¯d bitten out the core.  As anyone who¡¯s tried to eat a core can say, it isn¡¯t a pleasant experience.  It is tough, the seed pods are ridged enough to cut your mouth if you chew them wrong, and the seeds themselves are extremely bitter when you crush them.  It was only when I felt one between my teeth that I stopped, and the idea occurred to me.

    That morning I planted the apple seed next to my running path and focused my magic into it.  The task wasn¡¯t difficult, and soon a sprout shot forth. It grew fast enough that I could watch it with ease like some recording being played at accelerated speed.

    It only took me about ten minutes to grow the seed from a tiny shoot into a full-grown tree, one that flowered and bore fruit before I withdrew my magic from it and allowed it to return to a more normal existence.  It was . . . satisfying, to sit there under the tree I had grown, smelling the scent of apples just coming to ripeness.  Sure, I couldn¡¯t eat them, but just the smell was relaxing.

    So, I plucked an apple from the tree, buried it in the ground and made another tree grow,

    Then I did it again.

    And again.

    And again.

    It became almost a sort of relaxing repetition and I was doing my best to improve my time on each tree, but after a bit, I was able to let my thoughts drift as the process became familiar to me.  The next thing I knew I was surrounded by more than two dozen apple trees, all of which were in the later stages of fruiting.  It was interesting, and it did make my next run around the perimeter of the Sanctuary a lot more interesting, so I decided to see what else I could manage.

    After raiding the kitchen for every form of fruit seed I could find I ended up with some interesting results.  A ten-metre-long stone frame that supported a massive grapevine, the bunches of fat white grapes full and juicy, ready to be eaten.  Joan was happy about that since it turned out that she was quite fond of grapes and made it a habit to pick some each day.  Then there were some orange trees as well, displaying an eye-catching contrast between green and orange as their fruits ripened.

    My latest project though, was a bit more ambitious, and given that I couldn¡¯t eat any of the fruit my motivation was purely based on how good the result would look.  While hunting for more seeds to work with I stumbled across an open and half-empty bag of frozen cherries hiding behind a rack of ribs in the farmhouse freezer.

    Honestly, my private theory was that it was something left behind by one of the workers who had helped renovate the place, that was the only reason I could think of for them to be there.  At first, I¡¯d been ready to just throw them away, but then a thought occurred to me and I let a few of the cherries thaw out.  To my delight, I found that the pips were still inside.

    Getting them to grow had not been easy.  Being frozen might have preserved them, but it had also damaged the seeds.  The magic I pushed into them didn¡¯t want to cooperate.  The first seed I tried to coax back to life ended up bursting into flames on me.  The second didn¡¯t burn, but it did crumble to powder after I pushed it too far.  The third, at least stayed in one piece, but shrivelled up as though it was months old.  It was the fourth one that I finally made a breakthrough on.  A tiny green shoot poking forth from the pip after I had spent more than ten painstaking minutes feeding green into it.  Soon enough I had a fully-grown tree, and from there I got more cherries and then more seeds.  And, of course, the famed cherry blossoms.

    After that, I might have been a bit overenthusiastic.

    I¡¯d been thinking about the trip I wanted to take to Japan, and also how I felt increasingly closed in.  So if I couldn¡¯t go to Japan, then I might as well try and make here a bit more like there.

    Japan had fared quite well regarding the return of its native pantheon.  It seemed that the Imperial family really did have some sort of blood link to their gods.  They weren¡¯t demigods, but apparently, there was something to their ancestral claims to the Mandate of Heaven.  With China having been taken over by their gods, the deities of Japan had decided to take steps to secure their homeland against potential invasion and an accord had been reached, one that ensured Japan¡¯s safety.  That was for the future though.

    In the present my efforts turned a portion of a farmstead in France into something from a Japanese tourist brochure.  My runs had grown much more interesting, and I¡¯d gotten loads of practice with my magic into the bargain.

    ¡°Adam, we need to speak.¡±

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    The sudden call broke me out of my happy contemplation.

    It was Hadriel who had spoken, the image of the half-naked warrior angel clashed with that of the tranquil background of the Japanese sakura.  It was as though someone had prepared a Japanese tearoom to perfection, and had then let in two Mexican wrestlers to fight.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Could you please return to the homestead, myself and Lady Joan wish to speak to you upon a serious matter.¡±

    Okay, that didn¡¯t sound good.

    ¡°Should I be worried?¡±

    I asked the question mostly in jest, but the warrior angel looked at me with very serious eyes.

    ¡°That would depend upon your point of view.¡±

    I almost gave in to the urge to sigh but managed to hold it back.  Hadriel was someone that I respected a great deal.

    The red-winged angel knew that she was beautiful, and she knew I found her beautiful, given how she¡¯d caught me staring at her in the past, but she didn¡¯t seem to place much value upon it.  She was . . . comfortable with herself.  And I think she would have been had she had a broken nose, wart-covered skin, and sagging features, looks were just unimportant to her.

    Yes, I respected her a great deal, but that didn¡¯t mean that she couldn¡¯t be exasperating at times.

    Hadriel seemed incapable of either informality or relaxation.  She was all business, treating me as a combination of a charge to protect, a student to educate, and a subordinate to command, all the time.  Even Joan, pious and dedicated as she was, would let go of some of her formality at the table, talking to me as a companion rather than as a responsibility.  The angel, though, never let up, it was as though she had just one setting.  As far as I could tell the only time that she came even close to thawing was when we were sparring.  She seemed to enjoy it, though I was still nowhere near the level needed to give her a good challenge.  I got the impression that battle was where she really shone, where I had a chance to make an impression.

    Though that was still quite a ways off, I think.

    Joan was waiting for us out on the white lawn near the back door.  Her expression was complicated, a mixture of resolve and trepidation that put me slightly on edge.  There was no fear there though, so I guessed that it wasn¡¯t something like an imminent attack.

    As we drew closer I opened my arms, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

    ¡°Okay, don¡¯t keep me in suspense, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    The French saint and the divine soldier exchanged brief glances, then turned back to face me.

    ¡°Adam, as you know the Hallowed Sanctuary shall soon be expiring, it is only a few days until its protection shall end.¡±

    I¡¯ll be honest, Joan¡¯s words caught me a bit by surprise.  Had it really been that long?  I realized she was right.  There had to be less than a week left of the Sanctuary¡¯s protection.

    ¡°Okay, so what¡¯s the plan then?  Are we going to move somewhere else?  Do you think I¡¯m ready to head home?¡±  I asked, half joking.

    ¡°Not yet, Adam,¡± She replied, her voice sympathetic. ¡°I know you wish to, but until your powers are greater you shall be able to do little there, save for drawing dangers to your home.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like that but I understood it.  So . . .

    ¡°Okay, so what did you want to talk to me about?  Do you have something else planned?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Hadriel stated, floating over to hover next to Joan. ¡°We feel that you require experience that cannot be provided by simple training.  Experience with foes that are genuinely dangerous and who seek to do you harm.¡±

    All I could do was blink at her, my brain freezing as it tried to understand what it had been told, but I was unable to process it.

    ¡°. . . What?¡±

    ¡°Adam, as matters stand you are more powerful than you realize,¡± Joan spoke up, her arms and hands spread in a gesture of openness. ¡°You have been granted great power, and even though you cannot yet use it to the full strength you possess, you are still a power to be reckoned with.¡±

    I could feel the scepticism that spread across my face.  I knew how I stacked up against my two guardians.  Still, I didn¡¯t say anything, I just waited.

    ¡°Consider this to be a trial by fire,¡± Joan explained. ¡°We intend to send you against a danger that has appeared in a nearby area.  A danger that seems to be based upon some form of monster, rather than a demonic agent, or a divine influence.  As far as can be determined something is warping the local animals into monstrous versions of themselves.  Thus far the beasts have largely stayed within the forest, but some have ventured out, resulting in several grave injuries, and at least three deaths.  As matters stand these encounters have only taken place near the edge of the forest, but unless something is done then the situation will grow worse.¡±

    Hadriel flicked one wrist, and the gem on the bracelet encircling it lit up, lines of light extending to form an image in mid-air.  At first, it was just a lot of outlines, but then the light started to fill them in, and what had been a sort of wireframe image became a magnificent holographic map of a large area.  The sight of it was enough to send the sci-fi fan in me into a squealing fit of joy at the sight of an actual holographic display.  Internally I chalked it up as one of my goals to achieve in light mastery, something I definitely wanted to be able to do.

    ¡°This is our current location.¡±

    As she stated this, a small round portion of the map lit up.  It was an area I was damned familiar with now, and I knew just how big it was, encompassing the farmhouse, the fields, and the edge of the forest.  Yet on the map, it was almost tiny, barely larger than a thumbnail.  Then the map rotated, bringing a new area closer to me, an area that was considerably larger than that of the Sanctuary and lit up in red.

    ¡°This is the affected area that the scrying of my fellow angels has been able to confirm.  We do not know what the cause of the twisting is.  Some power keeps it hidden from us, but we know it is somewhere within this area.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t find it?¡±

    I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt, but the question kind of came out on its own due to my surprise.  Angels were well known to be powerful.  If something was able to block them, then how exactly were they hoping that I could go up against it?

    ¡°It is not a matter of power,¡± the warrior angel assured me. ¡°Rather it is a simple matter of camouflage.  Whatever the source of this aberration of the natural world is, it can hide itself perfectly within the influence it is spreading.  The nature of that influence makes it opaque to the normal spells and castings that my brethren would normally employ.  There are greater works that could be brought to bear, but such are not to be used lightly, and are normally held in reserve for dire circumstances.¡±

    That made sense.  It was a bit worrying that I might be going after some sort of stealthy . . . was it even an opponent?  The way they described this it might be something like a cursed spring that was causing the trouble, so I might not even need to fight.  On the other hand, it might mean that I was going to have to face off against something like an assassin, something that could hide, and then strike.  And there was the most obvious problem as well.

    ¡°So how am I meant to find it?  I mean, if angels can¡¯t, then how am I meant to?¡±

    ¡°In that regard, you need not worry,¡± Hadriel assured me. ¡°The influence that keeps any magical attempts to see within is akin to a large bubble covering the area.  Once you are within this protection your own magical senses should make it a simple task for you to track down the source of warping power.  Our tests on your sensitivity to fluctuations or manifestation of power have confirmed this.¡±

    That was true, it had been boring, but they had determined that as far as sensing the manipulation of various types of energy went I had a pretty massive range and decent sensitivity.  Sadly, it wasn¡¯t a talent that was applicable in midbattle, due to the state of concentration needed for it being pretty fragile.  But for scouting or tracking it would be easy enough.  If I could get to that area and start looking, then I¡¯d be able to search through it easily.

    Of course, that left the other, and in my opinion more important, issue to address.

    ¡°Look, I get what you¡¯re saying, but . . . but am I ready for this?  I know that I¡¯ve got power, but I . . . I don¡¯t know if I can properly use it in a fight, y¡¯know?  I mean, what . . . what if I get scared and screw up?¡±

    Admitting that was hard, especially in the face of these two, but it had to be said.  In many ways it was among my greatest fears, proving myself unworthy of the attention and effort they had invested in me.

    But, at the same time, I didn¡¯t want to die because I¡¯d let my emotions overwhelm my reason.  Yes, I was scared, and that was something I desperately wanted to overcome, but by the same sentiment, I didn¡¯t want to rush into a hopeless situation due to recklessness or some blind need to prove myself.  It was a tightrope, a balancing act as I tried to avoid falling to either side.

    ¡°Adam, fear is nothing to be ashamed of,¡± Joan assured me. ¡°We hope that this mission will be a chance for you to gain combat experience against some enemies that not only are of a level you can deal with but are also little more than maddened beasts that need to be put down.  However, we do not intend to throw you into the fray without any sort of guarantee, such would be foolish and cruel.¡±

    As she spoke she handed me what looked like a small glass bottle, one small enough to fit into the palm of my hand.  The liquid it contained looked wrong though, the glowing blue substance moving strangely within the glass, as though it were slightly out of tune with gravity.  Still, strange though it was I could feel a certain power radiating from it, a power that felt oddly comforting.

    ¡°This is a spell container made by honoured Hadriel,¡± She explained. ¡°It has a simple function.  All you need do is break it and we shall immediately know to come to your aid with all the speed we possess.  However, please do not use it carelessly, this task has not been given to you lightly, so do not take it as such.¡±

    Ah, so a safety net of sorts. Sure, I hoped I wouldn¡¯t have to use the spell, but just having the option was enough to make me feel a bit more secure. Something I could fall back on if everything went to hell.  I knew just how fast the two of them could move when they needed to, enough so that they could both be at my side in a few seconds.

    ¡°Okay, I think I understand.  So . . . is it alright if I ask you for some more info before I go?¡±

    ¡°Do not think we are dispatching you this very minute,¡± Hadriel assured me. ¡°You shall leave upon the morrow.  Tonight, I shall inform you as to all the details that my fellow angels have been able to gather.¡±

    Well, that was a relief.  Knowing I wasn¡¯t just being sent off without some sort of briefing made me feel a bit better about this mission . . . wait, hold on one minute.

    It was at that moment that exactly what was happening finally clicked into place.  I was getting a quest, a real honest to gods ¡®find this and slay that¡¯ quest!  I could just imagine it in my mind, one of those quests you get in MMORPGs.  Complete with an electronic yet female voice reading it out loud.

    You have received a quest from [Joan of Arc] and [Angel Soldier Hadriel]!

    Cleanse the Twisted Forest!

    Objectives:

    Slay twisted beasts! (Optional)

    Find and Cleanse/Destroy the source of the warped energy twisting the local wildlife!

    Save any civilians trapped by twisted beasts! (Optional)

    Find Hidden Treasure! (Optional)

    Rewards:

    Increased Reputation with [Joan of Arc] and [Angel Soldier Hadriel]!

    Experience!

    Increased Reputation with [Local Civilians]!

    Hidden Treasure! (Optional)

    Failure Conditions:

    Fail to locate the source of the warped energy twisting the local wildlife!

    Excessive death toll upon local civilians!

    Die!

    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if thinking about video games was my coping mechanism.  Why else would my mind go straight there after hearing something so serious.

    Shaking my head, I saw that the red-winged angel was gesturing for me to follow her into the farmstead, hopefully, to start showing me the info that she¡¯d just mentioned.  Something told me that if I wanted to get through what was coming then I was going to need it.

 Chapter 7: Make the World Stir: Part Three

    Emma felt it as soon as Adam left the Hallowed sanctuary.

    For once his weakened state was working in his favour.  For most demigods hiding their newly awoken power was nigh impossible, even after their Awakenings, and they blazed like small suns to those with the skills to sense such things.  In time they would learn to regulate the power they emitted and grow more able to conceal themselves, but such was normally the work of months, if not years.  Adam had the advantage of starting out with a quieter ¡®signature¡¯, one that though still bright was not as dazzling as most of his freshly awakened kind.  As a result, he would have an easier time keeping it concealed as he grew in power since he already had an idea of where it should be ¡®lowered¡¯ to.

    That was for the future though, of more concern was the present.

    Why had he left?  Emma knew the workings of the spell the High Heavens had cast, and she knew that the were still a few days left before it would naturally fall.  The magic was stable, and the protections were still in place.  There wasn¡¯t any need to worry, so why leave its protective embrace?

    No, perhaps that was the wrong question.  What she should be asking was why his guardians would allow him to leave like this.  She didn¡¯t know either of them personally, but she knew something of their reputations.  When the Maiden of Orleans had answered the call of the Almighty back in the 1400s Emma had been living in Russia, but even so she had heard of her, in time.  Hadriel was less famous, but the angelic lore Emma had been able to study over the centuries had contained some mention of her, enough to suggest she was a . . . forceful personality, even for an angel.

    It might only all be second-hand information, but it had been the Lord Himself that had set them as the protectors of Adam, and she doubted that He would make a poor choice.  So, given their competency was more or less guaranteed, why would they be willing to allow their charge to leave the safety of the Sanctuary?

    Her eyes widened slightly as she carefully opened her internal ¡®eye¡¯ up just a fraction more.  As always, it was simply a tiny fraction of what she had once been able to freely do, but as ever she made do with what was available.  It might not be much, but it was enough to confirm what she had just sensed.  Adam was on his own, there was no hint of the blazing stars of power that would have been the saint in angelic form, or the warrior angel allied to her.

    That added another layer of complexity to the situation.  Not only was Adam leaving the safety of the Hallowed Sanctuary, but he was also doing so alone.  For a moment she considered the possibility that somehow the Sanctuary had been infiltrated, and he was now fleeing to escape, but immediately dismissed the idea.  His flight was fast but had no hint of the frantic energy she would have expected from someone trying to get away from forces that had broken into a nigh-impregnable fortress spell.  No, he was travelling of his own will, and he was going somewhere, not running from something.

    So, where and why, that was what Emma wanted to know.

    Unfortunately, she was well aware of her resources and knew that aside from speculation there wasn¡¯t really much she could do.  She lacked enough information for any accurate deductions, and she didn¡¯t have the tools or power handy to correct that.  Any guesses she came up with were just that, no way to confirm or deny them.  For the time being, she could shelve such speculation, and instead concern herself with her own next move.

    Should she follow him?

    Her first impulse was to do so, to go find some sort of transport and chase after the speck of familiar power that she knew how to trace.  She could find him almost anywhere, even if he chose to travel across oceans or continents, it was following him that was the problem.

    Though . . . should she be following him at all?  It was unlikely he had left permanently, not given what she had observed.  He¡¯d had direction when he left, but no sense of excessive urgency.  He¡¯d been going somewhere, but it was probably somewhere he¡¯d come back from.

    It didn¡¯t really matter though, she¡¯d give it a few days before she went after him, assuming he didn¡¯t come back.  She¡¯d have to wait for him to stop moving around before she could chase him.  She¡¯d just have to hope that he either returned, and made a trip unnecessary, or he stopped somewhere close enough that she didn¡¯t have to take a plane to reach him.  The last time she¡¯d travelled by aeroplane had been just after the Second World War, and it had been one of the most harrowing experiences of her immortal life, enough so that she had kept to trains and ships since.

    Letting out a sigh she sat down on her bed and tried to get her thoughts back on track.

    Staying in place for the time being was probably her best bet.  By the looks of things, Adam¡¯s guardians seemed to have either sent him out of the sanctuary or at least allowed him to leave.  She supposed it made some sense.  He¡¯d been in there for weeks, getting used to his power, and learning to use his magic, most likely he¡¯d been itching to spread his wings and get a good idea of what he could really do.  That was probably all this was, a chance for him to test himself outside the confines of the Sanctuary.

    If that was true, then he¡¯d soon be returning.  He¡¯d take only a few hours to return, maybe a day or so at most.  Still, there wasn¡¯t any harm in making some preparations, just in case her guess turned out to be wrong.  Preparation had always served her well in the past, there was no reason to forgo that now.

    As Emma began to sort through her bag, checking how many resources she had readily available, she wondered if anyone else had noticed Adam¡¯s departure from the Sanctuary.  It wasn¡¯t too likely, not given his relative lack of a ¡®loud¡¯ power signature.  The only way someone would notice him leaving was if they already knew his unique magical signature and had been actively scanning for it at the moment he left the protective spell.  Not impossible, but highly unlikely.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The woman looked up from her desk as a mental task, one of various she maintained suddenly began to demand more of her attention.

    For any mortal such a level of multitasking would have been impossible.  To split off a part of your consciousness, then devote it to continuously being on the lookout for a single very specific form of sensory input and only alert the main mind when it noticed it . . . that was not something a healthy and whole mind could accomplish.

    Her mind was divine though, beyond the limits of mortals in virtually every manner conceivable.  To devote some minor part of her to the task of monitoring the ambient mana of nearly half the world had been well within her capabilities.

    Leaning back in her chair she absently flicked her dark blonde hair over her shoulder as she began to mentally review what she had to do.  The family meeting that her father had called in the wake of the huge white light that had marked the awakening of a demigod with the bloodline of the Abyss had been . . . heated, to say the least.  This wasn¡¯t simply a matter of one of them being threatened by a future contender, nor was it anything as simple as an uprising enemy.  This was a matter of not only prophecy but also of legitimacy, of whether or not their family would retain the right to rule after the demigod completed his rise to power.

    There had been those who had called for his death, that the entire family should join all their power to hunt him down and slay him before he could truly come into his power.  Others had counselled caution, reminding those gathered that attempting to avert what had been prophesied had seldom ended well for those who tried.  There had even been those that had suggested somehow using him to the family¡¯s advantage, perhaps suborning him to their service, or convincing him to join the family.

    There had been arguments, suggestions, accusations, insults, denunciations, and alliances made and broken about the table as the discussion had continued.  To a degree the dark blonde goddess had found it interesting, a visible airing out of the feelings and secrets that had been kept hidden for so long that some of it had just been forgotten.  For her part she had remained mostly quiet, preferring to see what others were willing to give away before she showed her own hand, but her absence from the debate had allowed the discussion to devolve into chaos.

    In the end, it had been her father who had brought order back to the gathering, his authority and his power sufficient to force the others into subdued silence.  The meeting had once again continued, but this time with only one deity being permitted to speak at a time.  Her half-brother had been the one to push his luck and speak out of turn, as was his hot-blooded and contentious nature.  He had served as an example when her father had punished him forcefully enough for his golden ichor to stain the floor.  Each member of the family had spoken on their opinions, as well as a suggested course of action that could be taken, order maintained by the threat of further punishment.

    When it had been her turn, she had chosen to counsel caution.  Not only was this new demigod a powerful one, but it was clear that he also possessed a strong link to the High Heavens, meaning that to move against him might well draw their ire.  The family¡¯s pantheon was strong, but even so, the might of the angels was not to be dismissed.  Their principal focus might be their eternal war with the Deeper Hells, but that didn¡¯t mean that the heavenly forces could not move against other immortals if they so chose.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    So, she had spoken in favour of careful observation and tentative alliance.  This new demigod was unknown to them, his nature, his power, his loyalties, none of these were known.  She felt it foolish to move against him before they even knew if he was a threat in the first place.  There was no need to make a foe where one did not need to exist, not when an ally could be established instead.

    In the end a course of action had been decided upon, one that was not too far from her own suggestion, and yet there were some critical differences.

    For a moment she felt a smile tug at her mouth as she recalled one of the mortal phrases that had become popular in modern times, namely that ¡®the devil was in the details¡¯.  In this case, the details might end up getting her killed, at least for a short time.  She was a goddess, and regardless of how powerful this demigod might be, the chances that he could ever truly slay her were slim to none.  Still, if he did turn upon her it was unlikely that the experience would be pleasant.

    Her grey eyes closed as she stood from her desk, then opened as she turned to the door, leaving her thoughts behind.

    She had things to do, now that her target had left whatever protection had been obscuring him from her senses.  Travelling there would be a relatively simple task, given her divine powers.  No, the question was how to handle things when she did arrive.  Finding this demigod would not be the hard task, it was establishing the alliance that she hoped for that would be the issue.

    Stepping through the door she made her way down a short corridor, then turned into another room.  This set of apartments was her current home, a suite of rooms that most mortals would have regarded as the very height of luxury.  What with the rich carpeting the tasteful and expensive furnishings, the top-of-the-line hi-tech equipment.  However, the room she had entered was bare, devoid of carpeting, furniture or decorations.  It even lacked any sort of lighting, the walls still unpainted.  All that occupied it was a simple small sheet of cloth spread out on the bare concrete floor, a small number of items upon it.

    She felt another smile touch her lips as she saw those items.  Gifts weren¡¯t a guaranteed method to open dialogue, but suitable gifts could open many doors, and she was sure that these would get her the opening she needed.

    Now, it was time to prepare and to travel.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    She¡¯d been sitting in the grass and biting into a chicken sandwich when she sensed him, and even with her mouth full she¡¯d smiled.

    This had been the first time since the massive white globe of light had illuminated half the world that she¡¯d sensed him.  Up until now the only thing she¡¯d been able to do was to head towards the estimated point of origin of the globe, and hope that she could find something when she got there.  It wasn¡¯t the best plan in the world, but then again, she¡¯d never considered herself to be much of a planner in the first place.

    Discarding the remains of her meal by the side of the road she¡¯d swung her leg over the saddle of her motorcycle and gunned the ignition.  The bike was not some simple creation of mortal manufacture, at least not anymore.  She¡¯d called in some favours with Gibil to get the machine enhanced after she returned to the mortal plane.  Now it purred beneath her, the engine no longer needing mundane fuel, instead drawing power directly from her divinity.

    Her smile grew, splitting her face into a full grin as she accelerated down the lonely backroad she was navigating.

    She liked bikes, probably a holdover from the last time she¡¯d incarnated as a mortal.  That life had only ended a few years ago, close enough that there were probably still people alive and well who remembered her last incarnation.  She¡¯d been a biker then, a young woman both wild and serious who practically lived to ride.  She¡¯d pretty much lived in a garage, growing up seeing her parents repairing bikes and cars, picking things up, learning the trade.  By the time she was a teenager, she could have taken any set of wheels apart with her eyes closed.  The second that she was old enough to ride, she did so.  It had been a cheap Frankenstein of a bike.  It was made up from the parts of a half dozen different machines that had been cannibalized after being written off, but she¡¯d rushed to ride it with all the enthusiasm of a besotted girl running to meet her true love.

    That thrown-together motorcycle hadn¡¯t lasted too long, it had only taken about half an hour for the salvaged engine to finally give up the ghost and sputter to death in a cloud of smoke and other fumes.  But that half hour had been bliss for her.  As she¡¯d grown older, she¡¯d saved money, bought better parts, and eventually had her own bike, one that let her roar across the sands near her home, the wind in her hair, the sun in her face.

    There¡¯d been something of a gang of riders in her hometown, though not anything like the American motorcycle gangs that appeared in the news or films.  This collection of riders was more akin to a combination of a sports team, a vigilante group, and a neighbourhood watch.  They all loved riding and spent lots of time doing it, but they also kept an eye on the area, and when troublemakers came into town . . . they were shown the many, many reasons there were to either leave town quickly or to improve their behaviour.

    She¡¯d loved it!  loved the riding, loved the belonging in a tight-knit group, loved the action, loved it all.  She¡¯d grown up, got married, had a daughter, and through it all had never stopped riding every chance she got.  She never stopped loving the wild freedom it gave her.  She¡¯d died at the age of sixty-seven, some disease she couldn¡¯t even remember the name of, but she¡¯d joked with her family that she wanted to be buried with her bike.

    That love of bikes had stayed with her when she returned to being a goddess and was only slightly muted.  Now . . . well, if she had to cross a continent to some vague far-off location, then she might as well do it in the way that she liked, right?

    There was a slight scent of burnt rubber as she took a corner a bit too tightly, the rear tyre of her bike skidded for a moment before regaining traction.  A minor flick of her power was enough to empower the machine to repair the minuscule amount of damage, rubber literally growing back into place even as she sped down the road.  It was a vanity, but one she allowed herself because she could afford it.  By the same token, she didn¡¯t concern herself with a helmet, after all, what need had she for such a thing?  Her flesh and skull were more durable than the armour of a mainline battle tank, let alone a civilian crash helmet, so there was no reason she should bother with such.  Instead, she could enjoy the wind in her hair once more.

    Gunning the engine of her ride she once again focused on the distant spark of power that she had so carefully been watching for.  He wasn¡¯t as powerful as she had been expecting, but there was something to the spark, something that suggested hidden depths, even if it did lack the blazing power she had anticipated.  He was still distant from where she was, separated by several countries as they were, but she had ways around that, ways to shorten the length of her journey or ways to shorten the time it took her to take it.

    She had a vow to keep, after all.  One that she¡¯d sworn to her lord under the light of this demigod¡¯s awakening.  This wasn¡¯t the sort of vow one could just dismiss either.  This had been sworn on her name, her power, her very nature, she could no more ignore this oath than a turtle could ignore gravity if it was thrown over a cliff.

    The wind blew in her face, and her grin turned savage.

    Yes, she¡¯d sworn an oath, but that didn¡¯t mean it would be all bad.  What she had to do . . . some would stand against her, so she¡¯d at least get the chance to break some heads and spill some blood.

    Her smile widened at the thought, there was always a silver lining.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Far to the east, an old man in flowing robes sat in meditation.  The room he was in was not luxurious, in fact, it was little more than a natural cave that had been given a few touches of civilization to make it more liveable.

    A mat of woven reeds covered the dirt floor.  A simple tapestry had been attached to one wall.  In the corner sat a large jar of water, covered to keep it from going stale too fast, and with a small drinking ladle leaning against it.

    And that was it.

    The elderly man sat on the mat, his eyes closed, and his hands folded in his lap.  It had been a pose he had held for more than three days now, never moving, never stirring.  He paid no attention to the outside world, his entire focus turned inwards, to the flow of energy running through his body.

    As long as he maintained the flow as he was doing then food and drink were unnecessary.  He could continue like this for weeks, months, maybe even years, the flow slowly strengthening and sustaining him.

    However, such was not to be.

    Despite his internal focus, the seated figure found his awareness brought back to the outside world as an external power pricked at him.  It wasn¡¯t an attack, but it was potent enough and insistent enough that he could not ignore it.  He was unable to maintain his focus, and slowly his meditation slipped away, like a dream from which one was waking.

    Irritation touched him, but he forced it down.  This was no attack after all, this was a measure he had himself put into place before he began his training.  If it was activated, then it meant that events he could not afford to ignore were taking place.

    Reaching into his robes the old figure drew out a tablet of jade roughly the size of a small book.  It was heavy, but he handled it easily, his arms and fingers moving with a strength that belied their frail appearance.

    It only took him a moment to scan the characters that had been carefully inscribed upon the artefact and spot the ones that were now glowing with a soft blue light.  His eyes widened as he realised just which they were, and what it meant.

    Rising from his seated position the old man ignored the protest of stiff bones and sleeping muscles as he strode from the cave.

    One of the presences he had been searching for for weeks had finally revealed itself.  He was unsure of how it had been hidden all this time, or why it had shown itself now, but that was of minimal importance to him.

    He had no time to waste.  He had a duty to perform.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Golem felt it as the demigod left the range of its senses and took note.

    Its repairs were progressing well, only a camouflaging layer of surface damage concealed the truth of its returning strength and functionality.  The spell words had been re-inscribed, the broken connections in the main body had healed, and all that remained was for the core to complete the last and most delicate work in the repairs and the ancient construct would be able to return to full effectiveness.

    However, despite the near total devotion of its resources to its repair it continued to ¡®think¡¯ about the demigod that had left.  The one that had provided it with the energy needed to heal itself was important, both to it and to others.  As of yet the consciousness of the Golem had yet to come to a full determination of how it stood in relation to the demigod, but it was a priority as soon as it regained an acceptable level of functionality.

    Then it would not allow any obstacles to stand in its way.

 Chapter 8: Into the Dark Woods: Part One

    Chapter 8: Into the Dark Woods: Part One

    I found myself experiencing a strange mixture of terror and joy.  I didn¡¯t really think was possible to feel like this, at least not when you were of sound mind.

    The terror came from the fact that I was currently high enough in the air that the trees beneath me more closely resembled houseplants than they did the huge pillars of the forest that they would have been if I had been standing next to them.  Seeing them like that caused my stomach to tighten and my heart to beat harder in my chest.  I knew that I should be in the grip of blind terror, that I should be staring down and mindlessly flailing to grab onto something, anything, that could provide me with some stability, some assurance I wasn¡¯t going to fall.  Before, it had overtaken me, but now . . . now it was sort of there.  It was like an incoming tsunami that I could see, but which I knew would never actually reached me.

    I think that part of what was holding it at bay was the sheer elation I was feeling, the sheer unadulterated joy of freedom!

    I was finally out of the Sanctuary!  I was finally free to see more than just the same area that I¡¯d become sort of frustratingly familiar with over the last few weeks.  I was completely aware that it had been there to keep me safe.  I¡¯d known that I couldn¡¯t leave without risking less friendly elements finding me before I was ready.  However, for all that I¡¯d known that in my head it hadn¡¯t changed the fact that, as more time passed, I¡¯d felt more and more shut in, trapped, almost suffocated!  This freedom . . . it was a balm to my soul like you wouldn¡¯t believe.

    I hadn¡¯t even been planning to go so high when I started out.  Hell, I hadn¡¯t thought that I¡¯d even be able to get that high if I wanted to.  But here I was, soaring higher than I¡¯d ever thought would be possible for me, and for a time I just let myself bask in that simple joy.

    After some time though, the glow of joy dimmed a bit, and I got back to focusing on why I was flying, and what my mission was.  As far as my speed went I might not be flying as fast as a fighter jet, but I was able to eat up the distance between me and my target at a decent rate.  And as I travelled further I slowly started to edge up even higher.

    My fear, it was still there, but it was distant, almost smothered.  If felt secure in my own power, knowing I would not fall.  At my back my wings were spread, beating gently, despite not really needing to do anything they served nicely as a constant reminder that I wasn¡¯t just hanging there helplessly.  Gravity was not my lord and master, not anymore at least, so falling was an act somewhat similar to walking into a door, something I could avoid with a modicum of effort and attention.

    For a time, I simply enjoyed the experience of flying along, with no particular thoughts clouding my mind, just pure enjoyment of the sense of freedom unrestricted flight granted me.  It was not to last though, because a sudden vibration from my pocket brought me out of my careless peace.  It was funny, the feeling was almost exactly the same as when my cell phone was set to vibrate.  However, the source of the familiar buzz was not some item of technology, rather it was a crafting of magic.  Reaching in, carefully, since I didn¡¯t want to risk dropping it, I pulled the buzzing object out and held it before me.

    The small magical device that Hadriel had given me vaguely resembled a compass in that it was flat and had an eight-pointed star embossed across its face.  However, this artefact had no needle, instead, there was a tiny point of blue light that ran along the edge of the device, always highlighting the direction in which I was meant to travel.  The whole thing seemed to be made of pale blue glass that held some sort of viscous liquid that filled it completely.  According to what the red-winged angel had told me as I drew closer to the target area the light would shine brighter, then would go out completely once I was flying over it.

    As I looked down, I saw that the tiny point of bright blue was now distinctly brighter than it had been the last time I looked.

    The fear of heights continued to try and gnaw at me as I looked down, but it was overshadowed by a combination of uncertainty and anticipation.  This was it, I was going into danger, consciously, not in ignorance.  Right there, in the nearing woods, there were dangerous creatures I knew nothing about.  To be sure, it might be due to predatory hunger rather than maliciousness, but that would make little difference if the fangs came for my throat.

    The change came with such shocking suddenness that I paused in mid-air.  It was as though one instant the world around me had been normal, then suddenly the air felt different, heavier, hotter, more oppressive.  I felt as though something was wrong, as though I was being stalked by something that was only just out of my field of view.  Something like that should have stolen up on me slowly and quietly as I got closer to my target.  Instead, it was just suddenly there, hovering at the back of my mind.  Even then I might not have consciously noticed it, but since it came with the abrupt change in the whole atmosphere, it was unmissable.

    Danger, that was the simplest and most primal way that my mind could interpret the change, that I was in danger.  I didn¡¯t know if it was some power of mine manifesting itself for the first time, or if it was simply ancient instincts being roused from the slumber civilized living had placed them in.  Either way, it was insistent.  The forest ahead of me was not the safe one that I¡¯d been flying over a few moments ago, rather this one was the home of monsters, and it wasn¡¯t keeping that fact concealed.

    Levitating in place I looked down at the woodland beneath me, trying to see if there was anything that I could see that stood out.  With the change in atmosphere, I felt that I should be looking down on trees that were darker than they were meant to be, maybe growing out of a bubbling swamp, maybe with a few ravens in the trees cawing for added ambience.  But there was nothing like that, instead, the forest beneath me seemed to be every bit as normal as every other part of it that I could see.

    I really didn¡¯t want to have to go any deeper into it, but I couldn¡¯t see much of a choice.

    Slowly, I descended into the forest.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    He rose from sleep like some vast leviathan rising from the ocean¡¯s depths, he broke from his slumber in an almost violent eruption!

    His eyes opened, greeted once more by the darkness he had come to know.  Once he would have panicked at this, waking within the half-collapsed ancient chamber so devoid of light that he could not even tell if his eyes were open or not.  Once it would have terrified him, but now, despite having only just woken up, he lacked the energy to be afraid.  After all, what did he have to be afraid of?  Here, in this darkness, there was nothing more terrifying than he was.

    Even as his sluggish thoughts began to clear he could feel it once more, the hunger that had been his only companion for months.  For a moment he was confused, wondering why it had awakened him.  That was why he was here, after all, so that he could sleep without being tormented by his incessant appetite.  He knew that this place had once been a storehouse for magic items, and in the centuries those tools had been here their magic had seeped into the very rocks of this place, leaving an aura that permeated the surrounding area even after the artefacts themselves were long gone.  It had been that magic that had let him rest here, as his body absorbed that ambient energy and allowed him to slumber without needing to awaken for regular sustenance.  He might still hunger, but at least he could find some relief in the oblivion of dreamless sleep.  The only time he¡¯d awakened before had been . . .

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    That thought managed to burn through the fog in his mind and return him to full wakefulness, despair bubbling up as the implications crystalized.

    The last time he¡¯d been awakened like this had been because of the elf girl that had disturbed him.  The smell of her, both her flesh and her magic, had been too much for him, and his hunger had slipped beyond his control.

    Now . . . now there was something else coming, something that he could feel, smell, taste, even though they were still far away.  They were strong, of that he was certain.  Strong, powerful, and loaded with magic.  About the dilapidated chamber the sound of his inhuman limbs, slithering, as his hunger grew, could be heard with ease even if they could not be seen, responding to the detection of such a bounty.

    He felt a sob begin to build in his throat, but for some reason, it just stuck there.  It was the same with tears, his eyes stung, but not a drop of water fell from them.  Almost hysterically his sob morphed into a bitter chuckle.  No tears for him, why was he surprised?  After all, tears belonged to people, and he was no longer a person, he was just a monster.

    Slowly, he began to feel his body come to full wakefulness, first his limbs, then his central form.  Actually, could they really be called his?  After all, they were commanded more by his hunger than they were by his mind.  He might have some self-control after the hunger was satiated, but until then he was more of an unwilling passenger to his own flesh than he was anything else.  Damn it!  this wasn¡¯t fair!  It wasn¡¯t fair!  It wasn¡¯t fair!

    Trapped in his malaise of frustration, depression, and bitterness he was only peripherally aware of his body beginning to move out of the chamber he¡¯d hidden himself away in.  The ruins he slept in might be half-collapsed, but the portions that remained were surprisingly solid.  More than that, the corridors that connected the large underground chambers were far larger than the passageways of a human construction would have been.  When he¡¯d first stumbled upon this place he¡¯d been driven by the scent of magic and the hunger that tore at him. He hadn¡¯t taken much note of it at the time, but after his reason returned it had become a perfect place to hide between feedings.

    He came about a turning and was brought out of his dark thoughts as he spied a distant light.  It was faint, more the reflection of a reflection of light.  But to eyes like his, eyes starved of illumination for weeks, it might as well have been a beacon.  As he drew closer, the faint light began to reveal details of his form that the darkness had been concealing.  His form was larger now, the main body thicker, his multiple limbs longer and stronger.  What remained of his human form now rested only a foot or two beneath the ceiling, and given that these corridors seemed to have been built to drive something the size of cargo trucks through . . .

    Had he really grown so much during his sleep?  Had he eaten so much the last time he lost control?  In truth he wasn¡¯t too sure, aside from that elf girl, all the rest of his last time awake was mostly a blur.  His heart leapt to his throat as a thought struck him, had he eaten any people?  Sure, the elf girl had been bad enough, but she¡¯d been trying to kill him, so he wasn¡¯t feeling too guilty about that.  But if he¡¯d eaten someone human, like a hiker or a hunter . . .

    He finally emerged into the sunlight, and for a moment he instinctively tried to raise his hand to shield his face from the bright light of day, only for it to come to a jerking halt as he remembered that his arms were trapped.  Actually, for all he knew the portions of his limbs beneath the flesh of his larger self might simply be gone, melted away into the greater mass.  It wasn¡¯t as though he could feel them anymore, so it was entirely possible.

    Within him he could feel the hunger growing, maturing.  Before it had been a sleepy, almost indistinct feeling, for all of its demanding potency.  Now though . . . now it was growing sharper, more focused as it seemed to sense the distant power.  Not for the first time he wondered if he was just going insane, splitting his mind in a vain attempt to distance himself from the horror of his situation.  After all, how could ¡®hunger¡¯ be intelligent or aware?  But that was how it felt, as though some part of him had taken control, some part that had neither remorse nor conscience, just pure animal instincts to hunt and consume.

    Whatever had woken him, it was still distant, but he could feel it.  He remembered something from back . . . before, before the Black Sun, before he¡¯d become . . . this.  Something about how sharks could sense blood.  Something about smelling just one drop of blood when it was just one part in a million or something like that.  Could it be that he had something similar, only his body could somehow instinctively sense magic?  That had been how he¡¯d managed to find the underground ruins, and the hidden vault of magic artefacts that he¡¯d promptly consumed, all before he even realized that it had been magic that had been drawing him.

    Regardless, the part of him that was tied to his hunger seemed to realize that even though the distant power was approaching, it would be some time before it arrived.  Not too long, but long enough that it saw no point in just waiting for it.  For a moment he felt his limbs tense, as though the hunger intended to rush to meet this coming prey, but then they relaxed as the primal part of him decided it was better to wait than to expend more energy than needed.  As it did so he could feel his control over himself returning, a temporary control, one that he knew would end as soon as his instincts scented the prey having drawn close enough.

    Back when he¡¯d first begun to change, he¡¯d taken these brief moments of freedom to try and restrain himself, but it had never worked.  Chains snapped, concrete walls broke, and pits were easily climbed out of.  In desperation, he¡¯d even tried to kill himself, but even that had failed.  Eventually, he¡¯d simply given up, realizing that the best he could do was to try to isolate himself, and hope that would be enough.

    Without really thinking about it he¡¯d moved into the forest, towards some trees that he was familiar with.  They were old trees, thick ones that had the sort of roots that went down into the earth and left the trees they came from as immovable as half-buried boulders.  What he liked about them was that the lower branches were only a few feet off the ground, and had broken off into jagged stumps by some earlier occurrence.  As a child, he might have enjoyed using them to climb the tree, but in his current state, they were more useful for something more practical.

    Like a cat pushing into the side of some furniture he pressed his bulk up against the tree, then slowly drew his side along it.  He felt the pointed branch dig into his flesh, then heard the dull tearing as his skin caught and came off.  Rather than pain, he felt a pleasant sort of relief, almost as though he had finally been able to scratch an itch that he hadn¡¯t been able to reach.  He repeated the action, moving to other trees, tearing away long swathes of skin on each attempt.  On any other animal any mortal animal, such self-mutilation would have meant only death, either immediately by blood loss, or a later and more lingering one from infection and disease, but not for him.

    The first time he¡¯d done this he¡¯d been much smaller, barely larger than a pony.  Back then he¡¯d thought he was going to die, that the same force that had been twisting his body had somehow caused it to mutilate itself, that he was coming undone, but as he survived and grew he came to understand what was happening.

    What he was doing was something akin to a snake shedding its skin as it grew.  Granted, his skin came away in thick and wet strips and flaps of meat, but the hide that was exposed was always whole, and quickly grew strong.  The old skin would always become tighter as he grew, then split and be shed with ease, so he should not be surprised that he had to do it once more after he had noticeably gained in size.  It wasn¡¯t even something that he had to devote that much attention to.  As with so much in his life now it seemed that his instincts were perfectly capable of dealing with this without his conscious intervention.  Soon all the old skin had been shed, decorating the trees like some grizzly parody of Christmas decorations.

    Some part of him noted, now that he could see himself in the daylight, how the hide revealed by his actions seemed different.  It seemed blacker, shinier, almost . . . glossy?  That was different from what he remembered, but in truth, he didn¡¯t really care.  All of it, the fear, the hunger, the despair at the lack of control, all of it was just growing to be too much!  He didn¡¯t deserve this; he didn¡¯t deserve to be an unwilling passenger to his own flesh!  So, why . . . why was he like this?

    As the familiar depression settled upon him, his body lowered itself to the ground, sinuous limbs curling into place to comfortably support it as the new skin grew out and hardened.  About him, the strips and patches of skin and flesh that had been torn from his body steamed lightly in the sun, their scent carrying on the wind.  Already other creatures could catch the scent and were being drawn to it regardless of the instincts within them that screamed for them to run.  While he was still there they would not draw close, even the lure of the scent could not overcome the instinctual fear of a predator as large and deadly as he was, but when he was gone they would close in and feast.

    That was of no concern to him though, indeed, it wasn¡¯t something he was even aware of.  Instead, he just fell deeper and deeper into his thoughts, finding an escape from reality within the tides of his emotions.  However, even if his mind was distracted his body naturally knew how to rest and prepare.

    The prey was still distant, but in time it would come closer, and when it did . . . the hunger would be satiated.

 Chapter 8: Into the Dark Woods: Part Two

    Chapter 8: Into the Dark Woods: Part Two

    On landing the first thing that I noticed was how quiet the forest was.  No woodland is ever silent, there are always bird calls, creatures moving through the brush, and insects chirping or buzzing around.  I could hear those sounds, but they were from far away, only just in range of my bettered hearing, but where I stood, the quiet was eerie.

    Taking a deep breath, I tried to tamp down on the chill that was making its way up and down my spine and instead focus on the matter at hand.  The artefact that Hadriel had given me was kind of like a compass, pointing towards the area holding the energies it had been attuned to.  Now that I had arrived it was as if that compass was being used inside a room with magnetic walls.  It was just trying to point in every direction at once.  So, it went back into my pocket, and I tried to think of what else I could do.

    Well, basic though it might be I supposed the first thing I¡¯d need to do was to see what I could find with my eyeballs.  The area I¡¯d come down in was a small clearing amongst the trees, the sort of place that a family might come to for a nice picnic.  Turning around to get my bearings I stepped into the forest, aiming for the centre of the affected area.

    Almost right away I realized I was going to have some trouble.  Namely my wings.  Fully extended they just took up too much room, I might as well have been trying to walk into the woods with a couple of surfboards strapped to my back

    Folding my wings wasn¡¯t a problem but keeping them folded was. They tended to open up every time I was faced with anything that drew even a moderate reaction from me.  If I was startled, they¡¯d snap open.  If I was suddenly faced with a bright light then one would come around to shield my face.  If I was getting ready to fight they¡¯d half unfold and arch up behind me.

    Going into the forest was going to be problematic if they kept acting up in there, especially if I had to move quickly for any reason.  Both they and I seemed to be tough enough that I didn¡¯t have to worry about getting injured, but I wouldn¡¯t be able to make good time or maintain any sort of stealth.

    That thought brought me up short.  Stealth, really?  Was that even an option for me?  I supposed that if I flew up above the treetops then I couldn¡¯t be seen or heard so easily, but the flipside to that was that I¡¯d only be able to get brief glimpses through the canopy of leaves.  Given that it was the middle of summer virtually all the trees had bows bursting with a healthy covering that would block almost all attempts to see through them.  On the other hand, even if I folded my wings in and kept them closed I could see that just walking between the trees wasn¡¯t going to be as easy as I first thought.  Sure, I could go in for a bit, but once I got in deeper I¡¯d have to deal with the undergrowth that had sprung up under the foliage.  And, again, summer had made sure there was plenty to deal with.

    If I had to then I could force my way through, but I¡¯d still probably end up expending more effort than it was worth.  I supposed that I could try to split the difference and go the middle route, namely levitating until I could pass over the underbrush, but remain beneath the canopy.  Given that the main trees seemed to have kept smaller trees from growing between them that might be the best way to go.  The only problems would be having to manoeuvre around the various lower-hanging branches.

    As I looked at what I had to deal with, woods and jungles from adventure films sprang to mind.   Indiana Jones never had to worry about waist-high bushes of brambles to deal with, especially not ones with extra vicious-looking thorns on them.

    This was reality though, and the simple fact was that yes, the middle path was probably the best route.  In terms of speed, I would be largely unimpeded, and at least I wouldn¡¯t be making enough noise to alert anyone with working ears that I was coming.  As to the things in my way . . . well, a machete worked for the adventurer archaeologist, I was pretty sure that I could make do with some carefully applied telekinesis.  My wings might still be an annoyance if I didn¡¯t keep them under control, but I¡¯d just have to make do.

    Oh well, best get to it.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Slowly the forest began to come alive.

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    The creatures, the ones that had been twisted by the flesh of the warped one, began to emerge from the slumber they had fallen into.  There were not many of them, at least, not as many as there had been, but that was hardly a surprise.

    After they had been twisted by the flesh, hunger had overwhelmed them, and they had sought to satiate it.  For those of them that did not normally consume meat in their diet of plants and nuts had proven insufficient.  The twisting, the change they had undergone, had left them with a new appetite, one for flesh and blood.  For those who had already been eaters of meat the change only served to sharpen their hunger, to make it a ravenous void that always demanded more.

    Those twisted had fallen upon the unchanged inhabitants of the woods with a level of ferocity that had never been seen before, and a feeding frenzy had ensued.  Birds, beasts, and even the very insects in the grass had been devoured in short order, and the hunger of the changed had been satiated, for a time.

    When the hunger returned the twisted found that there was no longer any plentiful prey to be found.  Those who had not been consumed by the first wave of altered creatures had fled rather than risk being a future meal.  Few new animals had entered the area that had been abandoned.  Some of the twisted, the largest and strongest, left the woods, seeking new prey, but they soon returned, some unnamed instinct driving them back to their ¡®homeland¡¯ even as their hunger continued to gnaw at them.

    In the end, it was hardly a surprise that they turned upon each other in their desperation.  After all, the change had left them larger and stronger than before, so each of them was a feast on legs for their fellow twisted.  Of course, none of them were easy meat, the twisting having transformed even such harmless creatures as rabbits into aberrant killers.  Many had died, even as they tried to slay others for food, and in turn their corpses had served to feed those that were strong enough to survive.

    As it turned out, devouring others who had been changed by the cast-off flesh of the warped one was in many ways the best thing for the twisted.  Their flesh fuelled further transformations, making those that ate them even stronger, which in turn made them better able to kill and feed upon more victims.  It was a chain reaction that inevitably led to a second feeding frenzy.

    Though brief, only lasting a few days, the effects were devastating to the population of the twisted.  They had been pared down to barely a twentieth of what they had once been.  Of the survivors, two types had soon emerged.

    There were the scavengers, generally smaller twisted that had been able to survive due to natural quickness and smaller appetites.  They were able to survive by eating the scraps left behind, by stealing chunks of kills while the victor was engaged in eating, by being able to flee into the sky or the trees where the larger twisted could not follow.  They were the likes of the birds, the rats, the squirrels, and even some of the insects that had been twisted.  They were opportunists, and their weapons were speed and surprise.

    Then there were the alphas, far more fearsome, far more dangerous.  They were the ones who had faced their prey directly.  They had grown into terrifying, huge beasts that would not have been out of place as the foes of heroes in ancient legends.

    There had been more of them to start with, but several of them had been devoured by the warped one that was the source of the flesh that had twisted them.  It was an irony, one that was lost on the aberrant animals.

    In the end, there had been no more food to be had, but the survivors had consumed enough to sate their hunger, for a time.  Rather than engage in more dangerous competition with the alphas that remained, or try to catch the quick scavengers, and most likely use up more energy than eating them would provide, the twisted had instead fallen into a state of hibernation.  It was a mindless, dreamless slumber, but one that ended when they sensed the approach of something that tickled their senses.

    Power, magic, vitality, it didn¡¯t matter what it was called, they craved it!  The magic in the flesh they had first consumed had triggered their own transformation, consuming the flesh of others so afflicted had fuelled it.  But that was a pale thing compared to what they could sense coming.  The lifeforce of their fellow twisted was refined and strengthened, but this . . .

    Beasts that had hidden themselves beneath the earth, or inside hollowed tree trunks, or in small caves they had found, all began to stir.  What they felt approaching . . . it was beyond anything they had tasted before.  What they had gained from feeding upon their fellow twisted was nothing by comparison.  It was as though before they had feasted only upon scraps, droplets of juice squeezed from unripe berries.  What was coming now was more akin to the finest honey to be found in the finest beehive.  The richness, the sweetness, the volume, all of it was so much greater.

    They stirred, but few of them moved.  They still felt the torpor of their long sleep and also knew not to take any actions that might alert this new prey.  As things stood it had only just entered the hunting grounds of the twisted, and it would not do for them to drive it off by attacking too soon.  All the twisted had no thoughts that could be put into words, since they were all still just animals, no matter how much they had changed or grown.  Still, their instincts were strong, and they did not wish to lose their chance at this prey.

    Some, the smaller scavengers, were awake and moving, their smaller size allowing them to recover faster, but they were doing so slowly and carefully.  Stealth was their advantage, and they had not survived this long by surrendering it carelessly.

    The forest slowly came alive, and it was hungry.

 Chapter 9: Red in Tooth and Claw: Part One

    Chapter 9: Red in Tooth and Claw

    I am ashamed to admit that when the first attack came my first response was a high-pitched shriek of surprise and terror.

    The assault came out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard, as a good assault should.  I¡¯d been making my way deeper into the woods, making as little sound as possible while keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might look out of place.  I think that it was because I was focused on this that the sudden attack came as such a surprise.

    There was no warning of any sort, no movement out of the corner of my eye, no sound of something in the brush or skittering across the bark of a tree.  Instead, I went from ¡®scanning the area as thoroughly as I could¡¯ to ¡®having an attacker right in my face¡¯ in the space of a split second!

    Had my attacker been some formidable enemy then I might have been justified in my less than heroic reaction.  But, the creature that leapt down at me was a squirrel.

    On the other hand, this ¡®squirrel¡¯ was the size of a large housecat.  This ¡®squirrel¡¯ had large claws, carnivorous fangs, and a bloodcurdling attack shriek.  It was more an abomination than a squirrel, so maybe my reaction wasn¡¯t so misplaced.

    It had come at me with blinding speed.  It was only that horrid shriek that set off my reflexes in time to do anything to protect myself.  Plenty of practice with both of my teachers had hammered reactions into me.  So, my right arm had blocked the beast¡¯s way before I had a chance to think, and before it had a chance to maul my face off.

    And it was a damned good thing that I did because the wretched beast didn¡¯t give me even an instant¡¯s respite.  The second it struck it latched on, its teeth digging into my skin with the tenacity of a tick, even as its limbs ripped at me in a blur of speed.

    The claws that tore at me stung and drew blood, but despite the warped creature¡¯s best efforts the cuts were shallow, and the blood only oozed out in slow rivulets, rather than the thicker flow that it should have been.  This was definite proof that my awakening had made my body tougher.  It wasn¡¯t invulnerability, but it was something.

    All of this occurred to me in the space of an instant, even as my startled cry faded away.  I¡¯m not entirely sure what I would have done, stunned as I was by the suddenness and sheer ferocity of the attack, but I never had the chance to find out.

    Almost at the same time as my arm came up my wings snapped open, arching up behind me like a scorpion flexing its tail when threatened.  Unfortunately, I was right next to a tree when they did this, and as such my left wing hit a trunk, the force of it being enough to send me tumbling to the side, the squirrel still attached to my arm.

    What came next . . . I wish I could say that it was all planned, that I was able to keep my head and turn the situation to my advantage.  However, the truth was that I panicked, and in my panic more or less just thrashed about wildly in an attempt to recover my equilibrium, get rid of the squirrel, attack it, and get away, all at the same time.  It was an ugly, frantic, and uncoordinated effort, utterly devoid of any sort of skill or grace.

    And it turned out to be surprisingly effective, since my flailing arm impacted with a nearby tree, catching the twisted creature between my arm and the thick trunk.  There was a wet crackling noise, a stab of pain as the fangs of the beast were forced deeper into my flesh, and then just a dead weight hanging from my arm.

    It took me a moment to collect myself, but when I did so I stared down at my arm . . . then had to bite back another shrill scream at what I saw there!

    The squirrel was broken, of that, there could be no doubt.  When I¡¯d accidentally smashed it against the tree, I¡¯d inadvertently shattered both its spine and the back of its head.  Half the skull was caved in, and its back was arched in a way that no normal spine could manage, either should have been enough to kill it, but it still clung to life.

    Its body twitched, the eyes rolled in its head, and those teeth remained locked in my flesh, but all of that could have just been the last misfiring of a damaged brain on the verge of giving out.  Whatever the case might have been, I only felt a visceral need to get the damned thing off me!

    Distantly I heard the metallic sound of my halo snapping into existence as I reached for my magic.  Then my telekinesis seized the dying animal that was still latched onto me and none too gently pried its jaws open.  I¡¯m pretty sure I heard something break as it did so, but I wasn¡¯t too concerned with that.  Rather, I was trying to get my heart to settle down to a normal heart rate, something that the copious amount of adrenalin in my bloodstream was making difficult.

    Pushing myself off the underbrush crushed by my fall I did my best to analyse the situation as dispassionately as I could.

    Well, clearly, I should have been more prepared for an attack.  I¡¯d been aware that there were monsters in the forest, but I¡¯d been thinking of them as things like giant wolves or cats.  Something like a predatory squirrel, an ambush predator, had never crossed my mind, and it should have.  I¡¯d let myself fall into the trap of not fully understanding my situation, of thinking of it like the plot of a story, or the build of a computer game.  I had a quest, but that didn¡¯t mean that this was going to be some simple fight where I could find clues that highlighted themselves, and which I just had to put together in some simplified jigsaw minigame.  Enemies weren¡¯t going to advance at me slowly and give me ample time to blast them down or set up traps.

    I wasn¡¯t taking it as seriously as I should, after all, I didn¡¯t have any extra lives here.

    I should have come in here with my halo deployed and my magic ready!  I could sustain a shield that could tank hits from Hadriel, hits that I knew could smash stone if she wanted, so why didn¡¯t I have it up and running as soon as I came in here?  For that matter, why didn¡¯t I try to put together some sort of detection spell?  And an attack spell, why hadn¡¯t I prepared one of those?  I could at least hold a TK blast in reserve, as long as I didn¡¯t dump too much power into it, for a good half hour, so there was no reason I shouldn¡¯t have one ready to blast any warped murder critter that tried to eat my face!

    I let out a sigh, willing a shield into being around me as I should have done from the start!

    Doing my best to focus I drew upon the magic within me as I considered my options.  I had to be smart about this, I had to make sure I didn¡¯t forget about any of the metaphorical arrows in my quiver.  This wasn¡¯t a game, I didn¡¯t get any continues if something managed to kill me.

    Safe, or at least as much so as I could reasonably be, behind my shield, I started to work on the detection spell.  It wasn¡¯t going to be easy, given that I didn¡¯t know exactly what I was setting it to look for, but I had a couple of ideas that might work.

    The next time I advanced, I was going to be better prepared.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan was very carefully NOT pacing.

    Oh, she wanted to, she wanted to very much.  Of course, she also wanted to grab her sword, assume her angelic form, and fly off after Adam!  She wanted to go out into the field of white grass and run through her sword drills until she didn¡¯t have the energy to even hold her blade!  She wanted to scream in frustration!

    Instead, she sat in one of the armchairs in the farmhouse and waited.  She didn¡¯t twitch, she didn¡¯t fidget, she simply sat there, hands crossed in her lap, so still that she might have been mistaken for a statue.

    ¡°I understand your concern,¡± Hadriel stated as she entered the room, her red wings folded to avoid any issues. ¡°But there is little to be done now.  Adam has left, and unless you intend to chase after him there are not many other paths open to you.¡±

    The resurrected saint knew the angel was correct, but some part of her childishly wanted to simply ignore that fact.  It wanted to say that Hadriel was wrong and that there was something she could do.  Joan knew it was irrational, purposeless even, but even so, she couldn¡¯t help but worry about her charge.

    Taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, the French saint forced herself to relax.  Running her nerves raw like this was not doing her, Adam, or anyone else any good.  Instead, she should be focusing on doing something useful with her time.

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    ¡°Precisely how long will the Sanctuary last?¡± She asked, already knowing it was about six days, but wanting to know if Hadriel had a more accurate figure.

    ¡°The spell shall end in five days, nineteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes, and . . . fifteen seconds.¡±

    The answer came with almost machine-like precision, and Joan found herself wondering if the angel had some power that provided her an internal clock, for her to be so intimately aware of the time involved.  It was currently just before five in the afternoon, so less than twenty-four meant . . . sometime before noon in six days.

    That gave her time to plan things, to get ready.  The question was, what would they do then?

    Always before the path had been clear before her. Ever since her return to the mortal plane, she had known what needed to be done: gather resources, establish a secure location, find Adam, help him prepare for his awakening, help him awaken, and then train him in the use of his newly gained powers.  After that, well, she¡¯d envisioned Adam bursting forth in his full power to be a leader, a shining beacon in the world with her and other to aid him.  In his incomplete state though . . .

    Adam would have to do something, he needed to establish a reputation, one that he could build upon so that other demigods, and eventually the gods themselves, would pay heed to him.  Exactly what though, was the problem.  There were threats in the world, despite the currently fragile but stable status quo, and had Adam come into his full power Joan would have had no issue following him to face them.  Indeed, that had originally been the plan she would have suggested after he Awakened.

    It was also a plan she had been forced to discard.  Since then she and Hadriel had needed to remake to their assessment of their ward with each step of Adam¡¯s development.  Simply training him had taken most of their focus, and future planning was difficult as they had trouble anticipating his growth.

    Joan felt a frown touch her forehead as she realized that she wasn¡¯t as aware of the goings on in the world as she should have been.  It was understandable since within the Sanctuary they might be protected, but they were also cut off.  With her full focus on helping Adam improve his powers she had not given it any thought, but she had not been receiving any of the missives from the mortals that had been aiding her.

    Internally she berated herself.  Yes, there was nothing she could have done about it, not without compromising the security of the Sanctuary.  But for her not to even notice it until now was inexcusable.

    She would need to find some external help.  Perhaps she could leave, make her way to a nearby town and get in contact with the mortal organizations that had aided her in the past.  They could help her gain a clearer picture of current events, and from there they could together plan the next moves Hadriel and Adam might choose from.  The last days of the Hallowed Sanctuary would provide the time she needed, so . . .

    ¡°Something is wrong!¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s sudden statement echoed through the room, emphasized by her suddenly tense form.  There was a flash of light, and the two massive blades that were her chosen weapons filled her hands, the tips of the swords almost scraping the ceiling.  The angel had turned to face one of the walls, but her gaze wasn¡¯t focused upon the stone and mortar before her, rather she was intent upon what was beyond it.

    Joan blinked in confusion, and then she felt it too.  The Hallowed Sanctuary was an incredible spell, one that not only concealed and protected an enormous area with near perfection, but which also connected to all that occupied it.  This connection allowed those within to know when the Sanctuary had been detected, when someone was searching for it, or when someone was trying to break in.

    That wasn¡¯t what she was feeling, but there was a distinct sense of . . . impact on the side of the Sanctuary.  The blows were minuscule, all but unnoticeable, but they were coming in three short bursts, then a pause, then another three impacts.  This continued, the impacts growing harder with each repetition, but not to the point where they could ever hope to break the protection.  It took Joan a full half minute to realize just what the impacts were.

    Knocks.  Somebody was knocking on the wall of the Sanctuary!

    It was so absurd that it took a moment for the idea to properly connect in her head.  The Hallowed Sanctuary was a fortress, an impregnable mystic bastion, a spell that had frustrated entire armies of demons in the past!  For someone to be just . . . knocking on it as though it were some house¡¯s front door.

    No, wait!  The pattern of the knocking had changed.  Three knocks had become five, then a short pause followed by two more.  There was a pattern to it, one that she recognized.  For a moment she tried to place it, part of her concerned that it was part of some ritual or spell, one meant to bring the Sanctuary somehow.  Where had she heard it?  It had been recently, but where?  It had been-

    The pattern of knocks repeated again, this time with enough force that the impacts could have made common bricks crack had the same impact struck them.  The familiarity was almost maddening, it was just within reach, but she could not grasp it.  It seemed to taunt her, slipping through her mental fingers as she tried to pin it down.  It was something new, she was certain of that.  It was something from this modern era, something that she had heard only in the last few days.  Idly she wished Adam were here, he would be able to easily recognize it.

    Wait!  There was something there, something to that thought which felt right.  Adam, it had something to do with Adam.  What was it-

    It slid into position with an almost audible click as the memory surfaced.  Adam knocking on the door to her room with that exact same pattern as he asked her if she¡¯d like to join him for a late supper.  It had been only a day after they¡¯d arrived at the farmstead, and with the training she¡¯d been putting him through his appetite had dogged him as his body craved fuel to replace the energy it had used up.  She¡¯d been curious about the pattern, wondering if it had any meaning, and her questions had led to some interesting conversation.  The breakfast discussion had been about television commercials, advert jingles, and modern pop culture references.  All in all, it had been quite interesting, but then they¡¯d had to return to the task of training and Joan had largely forgotten about it.

    Shave-and-a-haircut . . . two-bits, that was what it had been called.  Adam had commented on how the almost iconic pattern had outlived both the product that spawned it, and the currency reference it had reflected.  In modern days ¡®two bits¡¯ would barely be enough to buy a small chocolate bar, let alone a shave and a haircut.  It was now a knock you used when you were trying to be funny when you wanted to make a disarming entrance.

    And now someone was using it on the side of the Hallowed Sanctuary?

    Joan was aware that some gods had lived in modern times, so the reference would be known to them, but even so, this was bizarre.

    ¡°They are not attempting to break in, not with such a level of strength,¡± Hadriel¡¯s words broke her from her thoughts. ¡°Are they trying to gain our attention rather than force their way in?¡±

    ¡°I believe so,¡± The French saint replied. ¡°That knock . . . in modern times it denotes informality, even humour, depending upon the situation.  If meant sincerely then it could be that whomever is knocking simply wishes to parley with us.  Of course, there is the possibility that it is a ruse, one meant to trick us into lowering our guard before a surprise attack.¡±

    Either was a possibility, and Joan was unsure of how best to proceed.  She knew that whoever this was had to be confronted, it was simply the approach that was in doubt.  Should she offer a peaceful meeting, or should she immediately attack whoever had managed to locate them?

    The resurrected soul shook her head taking a moment to calm herself before looking at the situation again.  Getting herself caught up using such binary thinking was a foolish mistake, one that should be beneath her.  This wasn¡¯t a case where it was either or, there was no reason she could not offer one open hand while keeping the other ready to draw her sword.

    ¡°I shall meet them.¡±

    She spoke the resolution as she turned to face Hadriel.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel, please hold back, but be prepared to attack with all your might should our visitors prove hostile.  There is no need to make a foe where one might not exist.¡±

    It made sense, given that the red-winged angel was the more powerful of them.  True, Joan could transform into her angelic form and match her, but the simple fact was that Hadriel had literal millennia of experience using that power, in contrast to the French saint¡¯s handful of centuries.  There was also the fact that Joan¡¯s hidden trump card made her harder to kill than the angel, something that warranted consideration when meeting an unknown potential enemy.

    ¡°Very well.  Should they mean us or Adam ill, then they shall face the consequences.¡±

    With anyone else it might have sounded like a boast, the sort of bravado that fighters engaged in before battle in order to strengthen their morale.  Coming from Hadriel though, it was a statement of fact, a completely honest declaration of her intent, one devoid of false confidence or arrogance.  As a visible emphasis to her words small lines of lightning the colour of gold began to run up and down her blades, sparking and cracking with barely restrained power as the angel readied herself for combat.

    With a nod Joan left the farmhouse, purposefully striding towards the edge of the Sanctuary the knocking was being made upon.  Behind her the red-winged angel hovered over the building, ready to dart in at full speed should hostilities erupt.  It was as good a preparation as could be managed in the time available.

    As she walked she noted that the point where the knocking was coming from was the spot at which the Hallowed Sanctuary covered the road that led to the farmhouse.  That would imply that whomever this was they had come via the road.  That was . . . strange, given the sheer power that was needed to interact with the spell in order to knock on it.  To be able to physically impact what was essentially a distortion in the world . . .

    For a moment Joan felt her confidence flag.   That kind of ability was quite literally god-like, and not just any god either.  This would require a powerful deity, one with either the raw might to overcome the difficulty, or one with a ¡®wide¡¯ or ¡®deep¡¯ enough domain to be able to ignore the world-altering effects of the Sanctuary.  Either possibility was daunting, even with a warrior angel as her backup.

    With one final check to make sure her sword was loose and ready in its sheath the Maiden of Orleans went forth to meet this unexpected guest.  Then, just as she was about to step through the outer field of the Sanctuary she felt it, another set of knocks, these precise and formal.

    And coming from the opposite end of the Sanctuary.

    For a moment she just stood there, frozen by the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.  Was not this the Hallowed Sanctuary?  Was not this one of the greatest protection spells that the High Heavens had to offer?  So why was it that not one but two beings were now knocking on it and requesting admittance?  For a brief moment, she found herself wondering if she had somehow been provided with some cut-price version of the spell, some knock-off rather than the genuine article.

    She would first have to deal with this first knocker, then see to the next.  Of course, the situation was now more complicated.  It could be that the first knocker was supposed to act unthreatening, then attack in tandem with the second knocker.

    This . . . was not going to be easy.

 Chapter 9: Red in Tooth and Claw: Part Two

    Ironically enough it wasn¡¯t my shield that came into play with the first attack, it was the TK blast I¡¯d been holding in my hand.

    I¡¯d thought that I was keeping my guard up, that I was prepared to act at a moment¡¯s notice.  However, some things you can¡¯t really prepare for, and one of those things is some sort of massive boar-thing the size of a large van suddenly charging out of the woods at you like some sort of runaway train!

    Seriously, the thing was massive, and it came out of nowhere, as though the forest had launched it at me from some sort of hidden cannon.  Something so large had no business moving so fast, yet it managed it.  With a squealing roar, the massive hog came at me like some sort of tusked meteor.

    Had this happened before I¡¯d had to deal with the living blender that might once have been a squirrel, I¡¯d probably have frozen up.

    Unfortunately for my attacker, I was now better prepared.  So, instead of freezing in shock, I reacted like a coiled spring that had finally been released!

    The TK blast that I¡¯d been holding in my hand flared as I instinctively dumped into it the largest surge of power I could manage in a split second. Instantly I was sending it hurtling towards the huge boar with a crude pushing motion.  Had it been any other sort of projectile I¡¯d probably have ended up missing.  I was off balance, surprised, moving on pure reflex, none of which was generally conducive to any great display of accuracy.

    However, the great thing about my telekinetic bolts was that they didn¡¯t go where you aimed them, rather they went where you wanted them!

    The blast of colourless energy flew from my hands and slammed into the oncoming boar, the collision occurring so close that I could make out the individual bristles upon the huge hog¡¯s snout.

    The thing was massive!  This boar . . . it might be somewhat smaller than an elephant had been, but there was something about it that made it loom over me.  Maybe it was the sheer aggression that it was radiating, maybe it was the way it was crashing through the undergrowth as though it was as insubstantial as air.  Whatever it was this thing was somehow even scarier than the demon things that had attacked my Awakening ritual!

    I knew that a full-grown boar was a dangerous creature, and even a regular-sized one could hit hard enough to smash bones and pulp organs.  So, one as large as this one should be capable of reducing a human to paste if it hit.  All that mass, all of it moving so fast, all of it backing tusks like spears and a body like a tank, that had to add up to a lot of force!

    A lot of force that my TK blast slammed into.

    The moment seared itself into my memory, an instant that confirmed that I really was both dangerous and powerful.  The blast started out at about the size of an apple, but quickly grew over the intervening space until it was the size of a basketball when it hit the boar.  Proportionally the bolt was small, but the effects were spectacular and undeniable.

    For an instant the beast itself flashed, a brief sheen of red light playing across its dark form, each bristle momentarily lit up by the bloody light.  I felt a surge of power, of magic that I¡¯d never felt before.  If I had to describe the ¡®colour¡¯ that it had in my mind then I¡¯d have called it a hot bloodred.  It was angry, aggressive, and very carnal.  It was the red of meat, muscle, blood, and sinew.  It was animal and savage, and it fought against my own arcana to protect the monstrous creature before me.

    Still, bloody and savage though it might have been, its magic wasn¡¯t as strong as mine, and so it broke like cheap glass.

    For the boar, the results were immediate and violent!  The globe of colourless energy slammed into its snout below its eyes, more or less on the centre of balance for it, the full weight of its body being behind that spot, and then stopped it dead. There was a horrible cracking noise, one similar to that which the squirrel-thing had made.  Only it was louder and deeper, as the warped boar¡¯s own momentum drove itself against the telekinetic sphere.  In the weird slow motion that came to those with a truly absurd amount of adrenalin running through their bloodstream, I watched as the boar seemed to fold in on itself, its form crushing up against the arcana blast.  I watched flesh rupture and blood spill forth.  I watched its skull being forced to the side even as its neck broke.  I listened as the sound of its squealing cry was cut off into a broken gurgle.

    Time resumed its normal progression, and I had to dive to the side as the power of my blast exhausted itself, allowing the now-dead body of the beast to continue charging at me.  Much of its momentum had been lost in the collision of forces, but there was still some left, and given its mammoth size having enough energy to keep moving at all made it dangerous!  My evasion was a clumsy one, but I was able to fold my wings in closely enough to avoid getting tangled in the underbrush or caught on the nearby trees.  On the other hand, I didn¡¯t really have time to see where I was going and ended up bouncing off a tree that body-checked me.  The impact was enough to wind me, so I had to take a moment to collect myself before I turned to inspect the remains of the boar.

    I¡¯d have liked to have taken a moment to look it over, to really see how huge it was, how long the tusks were, how wide its hoof-like trotters were.  After all, this was the first monster that I¡¯d fought and beaten on my own.  As reflexive and thoughtless as my actions had been, they had at least been backed by my own preparations and strategy, simple though it might have been.  It wasn¡¯t an epic victory, but it was a fight.  My first fight and I would have liked to savour it at least a little bit longer.

    Unfortunately, the massive red wolf thing that suddenly leapt out of the woods to my right proved to be something of a distraction.

    This time it was my shield that saved me.  The creature was so fast that I had no opportunity to react, I only became aware of its existence when it slammed into my protection with force comparable to Hadriel when she wanted to make me feel the pressure.

    I felt my shield crack under the force of the blow, but despite that it held.  As for me, it was only due to reflexive use of my flight that I was able to remain where I stood, rather than being sent careening back like a kicked football.  I was able to stay in place as the beast stumbled back, one of its front paws rubbing at its snout, letting me get my first good look at it.

    At a glance, I¡¯d have said it was on par with a horse, but I¡¯d never seen a horse with teeth and claws like these.  The creature was unquestionably canine, but it was as though some caricature had somehow come to life.  The snout was too long, the body and limbs too thin, the claws too big.  There wasn¡¯t enough fat upon the beast¡¯s body, all I could see were muscles and sinew stretched almost painfully taut across its frame.  Even the fur seemed unnatural, a mixture of oily black and blood-like red.

    It was just . . . wrong!  A creature like that, it should have been curled up on its belly, too weak from hunger to even move.  Instead, it was already recovering from its impact with my shield and was staring at me with clear hunger, bloody droll leaking between its teeth.  Hell, even the eyes looked off, too wide, too much white, the pupils seeming to be swimming unsteadily on a pale sea.

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    ¡°RRRrrrrrrhhhh . . .¡±

    The low rumbling growl sounded a large engine that was starting, rather than anything coming from a living being.  It wasn¡¯t loud, but it was penetrating.  The sound carried on the air, and I had little doubt that when the canine thing wanted to be heard then the whole forest would know.

    What I wasn¡¯t expecting was for the growl to be answered by a chittering from behind me.  It took effort, but I was able to resist the urge to turn until after I¡¯d reinforced my shield.  My first impulse had been to spin immediately, but Joan had kept hammering into my head that I should never let an enemy out of my sight.  Given that the creature before me tensed in apparent preparation when it heard the other cry . . . well, maybe I was thinking of it as smarter than it really was, but it looked like it had been getting ready to take advantage of any distraction.

    ¡°SSSSsssssss . . .¡±

    This time the sound came from an entirely different direction, off to my left and from low to the ground.  Yet again, I didn¡¯t bother with conscious thought, instead, I trusted pure instinct and just reacted my flight propelling backwards and to the right as though I had been tied to a missile that had just been launched.

    My instincts served me well, as I saw a green and grey blur pass through the space I had just vacated.  As I moved, I heard the chittering again, this time rising into a shriek that was all too similar to one I¡¯d heard only a short time ago.  I felt something hit my defences, though it lacked the force to inflict any significant damage, but didn¡¯t take my eyes off the foes before me.  Instead, I reached out with my hand to grab at the empty air as my magic reached out to seize the attacker at my shield.  In a single motion, I clenched both my fist and the telekinetic force I was applying, an action that was accompanied by a sharp squeak, and then a wet crunch.

    Any other time my crushing an attacker like that, without even looking at it, would have been something I¡¯d have taken pride in.  It would have been like a badass moment in a film, the hero not even looking at the explosion he set off.  However, that was impossible given what I was looking at, a thirty-foot-long snake that had come slithering out of the undergrowth and was now rearing up cobra-like!

    The snake before me was recognizable as one of its species, but like the other creature, it seemed to be more a caricature of one, rather than a real animal.  No snake had ever had jaws like that, nor such a fang-filled maw of a mouth.  The eyes seemed to be more insectile than reptilian, even the scales were wrong, more like flat knife blades than anything else.

    Then I noticed that the previously quiet forest had begun to come alive with sounds.  Hooting, growls, hisses, there were lots of new noises, but none of them sounded natural.  The cadence was . . . distorted in all of them, just slightly off, but enough to be very disturbing.

    Out of the corners of my eyes I could see the brush starting to move, things I could barely make out moving through it.  Some of them seemed to be small, not much larger than a housecat, but others were great indistinct masses pushing their way through.  None were larger than the boar, but even so they were intimidating.

    And there were so many of them.

    I was suddenly all too aware of the small vial in my pocket, the lifeline that Hadriel had provided me.  As I tried to keep my eyes on the wolf-thing that was still just beyond my shield I also tried to be as aware as I could of all the other movement around me.  The dog-beast was so close, its snout almost touching the magic defences, its fangs bared, and its eyes fixed on me.  Letting it out of my sight felt very dangerous, but what about the things I wasn¡¯t watching?  Like some treacherous iceberg emerging from concealing mist the thought that maybe I should call for help rose up in my mind.

    It wasn¡¯t an unreasonable thought, I was surrounded, outnumbered, and, if I was being honest, severely rattled by the sudden appearance of so many threats.  This was more than I¡¯d been expecting, more than I felt ready for.  Yes, there had been mention of dangerous animals, but I¡¯d been unprepared for the sheer ferocity of what I was up against.  When they¡¯d said the animals were being twisted into monsters I¡¯d thought of something like zombies or large lumbering mutations.

    This was different though.  The squirrel had been worrying, but if that had been the norm then I could have handled it.  The boar had been too fast, too sudden to really have time to assess, but these new creatures . . . they weren¡¯t charging in, they were taking time to size me up, inasmuch as they could.  They were also giving me time to stew, to let my fear and uncertainty grow.  One of these things I could handle, two or even three wouldn¡¯t be beyond me, but there were at least five here, and that was just the ones I could make out!

    This might be too much, that was the simple fact.  I had power, and I had some training, but this was getting thrown in at the deep end of the pool and being told to swim or sink!  I wasn¡¯t ready for this!  I wasn¡¯t-

    My increasingly panicked thoughts were cut off as something impacted my shield from behind me and to my left.  I couldn¡¯t see what it was, but the sound it made upon impact was forceful but muffled, making me think that whatever it was must have been heavily furred.  Again, my defences shuddered, but held.

    My eyes darted about me as my hands reached into my pocket and seized the vial.  I could see them now, a crazy menagerie of warped and twisted creatures.  There was the snake, the fox-thing, something that might once have been a weasel, several dog sized monsters that might once have been rats, more squirrel abominations, at least a dozen insectile aberrations the size of my hands . . . there were just so many!

    My fingers closed tighter around the small bottle, not yet enough to break it, but not far from it.  My fear was screaming at me to crush it, to call for help, to get away from the monsters surrounding me, but some small part of me hesitated.

    Claws and fangs were scratching at my shield, but none were actually breaking through.  Not yet.  That meant I had time, time to think, time to compose myself, time to act like a rational being rather than a scared animal.

    Over my head something that might once have been a bird smashed down on the upper portion of my defences.  The creature was almost unrecognizable as to what it had once been, the placement of its wings and the general shape of its body being the only indicators.  The head and beak had been replaced by a gaping maw of teeth that seemed to be twitching in place as they bit at the shield.  The thing had at least five legs, each of them ending in a claw that would have put even an eagle to shame, every talon a hooked and barbed nightmare.  All in all, it looked like something drawn from the fever dreams of a lunatic, and it seemed extremely eager to bite my whole head off.

    Despite my earlier thoughts on rationality and composure I ended up reacting on pure reflex.  My TK wrapped around the thing and squeezed!

    I wasn¡¯t sure what I thought was going to happen, but I hadn¡¯t been expecting the creature to collapse under my grip as though it was simply hollow cardboard.  That wasn¡¯t right, at least not as far as what I¡¯d been taught went.  Hadriel had explained it to me, that most supernatural beings had at least some resistance to magic as an inherent part of their being.  It was why gods couldn¡¯t casually curse each other, it was why mages couldn¡¯t rip each other¡¯s hearts out without the use of complicated and potent rituals, and it was why I couldn¡¯t crush either Joan or the angel using my arcana telekinesis.

    They had explained that not only was this trait shared by other supernatural beings, such as demons, fey, spirits and the like, it was also inherent to the various monsters that had returned to the world.  What gave them their supernatural powers also gave them the same protection, a protection I had assumed these twisted creatures shared.

    But it looked like I¡¯d been incorrect in that assumption.

    My hand reached out to the side, the movement helping me to focus my magic as I directed a crushing grip of telekinesis at one of the smaller canine monsters.  It was the work of a moment to wrap the arcana around its head, then press inwards as hard as I could.  There was a momentary resistance, then with a wet crunching noise the beast¡¯s head imploded, blood and dark oily fluids leaking out of the jagged breaks in the skull as it collapsed into the undergrowth.

    This confirmed it!  As things stood, they couldn¡¯t reach me, but I could kill them.

    I looked around myself, taking in all the monsters trying to break through my shield.  Maybe if they had enough time to work with some of the larger ones, they would be able to manage it, but I wasn¡¯t planning on being so generous.  Taking a deep breath, I prepared for what was going to come.

    This was going to be bloody work, I just knew it.

 Chapter 10: Hunter and Prey: Part One

    Chapter 10: Hunter and Prey

    He felt it as the monsters died, one after another.  He wasn¡¯t entirely sure why it was that he could sense when their lives were extinguished, but the connection was there.  It had always been there.

    In the earlier days of his change, it had been a boon, as it let him hunt down prey with little difficulty.  The monsters had been smaller then, but so had he.  They had made for a filling enough meal then.  He knew it was better for him to consume the monsters than it was for him to eat any people who stumbled into his territory.  However, over time they had become less satisfying, and less filling.  In many cases consuming them now only served to take the edge off his hunger, rather than satiating it as they had before.  Of course, there were exceptions, those larger and stronger ones that stood out to his instincts, they were still sufficient to dull his ravenous appetite, but only just.

    He supposed that he should have at least been somewhat grateful for their existence.  Since they meant that he didn¡¯t need to devour more of the local animals, or prey upon people in the nearest towns.  But at the same time, he hated the sight of them.  They were like him, twisted, warped, wrong!  What they had once been was gone, subsumed by their new hunger and instincts, leaving only a monster that once had been a normal animal.  He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if that was what was going to happen to him.  Was he going to end up a mindless thing that did nothing but kill and eat?

    Maybe that would be better, some dark part of him thought.  As things were, he was more of a passenger in his own body than anything else.  Any time the hunger surged he would find himself overtaken by it, unable to do anything but watch as his body dragged him along to hunt prey.

    Almost as though that thought had been some sort of trigger, he felt his limbs begin to stir beneath him.  In the next moment, he¡¯d risen from his resting state and was already moving between the trees.  As always, he was astonished by the strange liquid grace of his inhuman form.  Despite his size he was still somehow slipping through the trees, his form flexing and shifting to squeeze between the trunks without mowing them down.  His long limbs slithered out, finding purchase about the older and thicker trees, and using them as grips to help pull him along.

    Massive as he was, fast as he was moving, he was silent, eerily so.  His form was making some noise, snapped branches here and there, rustling leaves, but it was all so much less than it should have been.  He sounded more like a fox on the prowl, rather than the monster he was.  It was the stalking of a predator, one that didn¡¯t want to alert his prey.

    He could feel the power of his prey, the way that it burnt in his mind sang to him of how potent it was.  Magic, that was what he could feel, magic that was strong and deep.  The artefacts that he¡¯d found had possessed magic of their own, and for a time they had been able to satiate the hunger.  The elf girl had had magic flowing in her very blood, and the hunger had enjoyed her when it took her.  There was even some magic in the monsters that he ate, even if it was diluted and tepid in comparison to his other finds.  His body craved magic, he was sure of that.  Maybe it needed it to fuel his growth, maybe it was for something else, all he knew was that the hunger sought it out whenever it could.

    Whatever this was, it was drawing the hunger just like blood did a shark, and as always, he was being dragged along as it took control of his body.

    In fact . . . now that he thought about it, he could actually smell blood in the air, the enhanced senses of his body alerting him to the scent on the wind even as he drew closer.  There was blood, lots of it, and the smell was exciting the hunger, causing claws to extend from their sheaths, then slide back into place as his body readied itself for battle.  He was close now, he was certain of it.  The scent of blood was growing thick, and the feeling of the magic was almost electrical upon his skin.  Soon he¡¯d be able to see who had roused him from his sleep.  Soon he¡¯d see-

    His body slithered between two trees and gave him a clear line of sight at the site from which the smell of blood was emanating.  What he saw . . . it was as though his thoughts had suddenly frozen into place.  Strangely, his shock even seemed to affect his normally rebellious body, because it went still as stone along with his train of thought.

    The undergrowth had been torn up and flattened, leaving a sort of small clearing between the old trees.  The area was all but covered in the remains of the warped animals that had claimed this part of the forest.  It was easy to see where the scent of blood came from, because not a single one of those beasts had died peacefully.  Some of them had had their skulls crushed into pulp, others had received the same treatment to their entire bodies, and others had just been ripped in two, their internal organs having fallen out to stain the plants about them a mixture of red and black.

    It was a scene out of a nightmare, and under other circumstances, it would have sickened him.  But today he ignored it, saw it as nothing more than background to the sole object of his attention.

    A young man was hovering a few feet above the carnage strewn about him.  He couldn¡¯t be that old, the man-become-monster guessed that they might have been about the same age.  The floating man had great white wings growing from his back and had a frame that denoted physical power and training.

    On top of that, the floating man was beautiful in a way that was so rare in men.  His body was a living sculpture of the masculine ideal, his features fine, curving and straightening in all the right places.  His hair, his eyes, his skin, everything about him was flawless, as though they had been imagined and crafted by some divine creator.  Above his head hung a circle made of floating pieces of metal, a halo to go with the wings of an angel.

    But this was no angel, as even over the scent of the blood the monstrous man could smell the humanity upon him, the scent that didn¡¯t belong to monsters or elves.  He should know, even underneath all the warped changes his body had undergone he could still smell the lingering traces of humanity, traces that he clung to to affirm to himself that he wasn¡¯t just a monster.

    The scent of humanity on one that clearly had divine power.

    A demigod.

    Deep inside the man-become-monster something uncoiled.  It was something dark, something twisted, something venomous, something hateful.  It had been something that had been curled up tight within him for so long that he had all but forgotten it was there.  An angry spiteful lump of emotions that had bound itself into a knot as he forced himself to endure and remain sane through his endless ordeal.  But now . . . now in the face of this, it was coming undone.

    Because he could see that the winged man was another demigod!

    The knot came undone, and rage spilt forth.  Crimson-red rage that seemed to dye the whole world before him.

    Perhaps that was a taste of the future to come, some tiny part of him coldly noted.  After all, a world dyed in blood was what he wished for most at this moment.  Never mind his hunger, never mind his earlier despair, none of it mattered.

    All he wanted to do was tear this demigod apart!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    When the last of the monsters fell broken to the ground, I felt a wave of relief pass through me.

    I¡¯d been right when I thought that the business of defending myself would be bloody, but I had vastly underestimated just how bad it was going to be.  It was as though the things had no sense of self-preservation, they simply kept coming after me regardless of how many I killed, or how gruesomely they died.  Darting down from the air, leaping from branches, clambering over the bodies of those already slain, it didn¡¯t matter, they seemed to be relentless!

    Any other animal would have fled as the overwhelming smell of blood and viscera choked the air, their instincts driving them to escape such a dangerous area, I was sure.  But these warped monstrosities had no such instincts, instead, it was as though reaching me meant more to them than life itself.

    Maintaining my shield required concentration.  Despite the horrific mutations that the animals had undergone they weren¡¯t overwhelmingly strong.  Some of the largest animals might have been able to shatter my defences, if they had been able to charge them with their full strength, putting their massive bulks behind it.  But their numbers were working against them, the creatures getting in each other¡¯s way.  The bigger ones lacked the clear path they needed to gather force, so all the horde of beasts could manage was to bite, claw, and butt at my shield, trying to force their way through it.  But that wasn¡¯t happening.

    Still, keeping them at bay wasn¡¯t easy.  Every time one of them bit or clawed at my protection I had to focus energy to repair and reinforce it.  Not much, but some.  I had to keep splitting my focus many times to keep the shield intact, even as I was striking back.

    It was difficult, multitasking had never been a strong point of mine.  Handling two draws of power at a time had been difficult, but by being able to rapidly switch between them I was able to keep up.  In brief moments of respite, I was able to lash out, breaking or crushing one or more of my attackers before I had to return my attention to my defences.  At first, it was slow going, but as I managed to thin out the numbers I found more and more opportunities to go on the offensive.  It had taken some time, but in the end, all of the creatures lay dead, and I took a moment to gather myself.

    That had been brutal, there wasn¡¯t really any other way to describe it.  I¡¯d known what it was Joan and Hadriel had been training me for, but I¡¯d never been so viscerally aware of it as I was at that very moment.  Yes, I was being taught so I could defend myself.  But I was also being trained so that I could kill when the time came.  Maybe it hadn¡¯t been a big part of my education in violence yet, but I knew that it was going to be an important part of it.  How could it not be?

    All in all, things were not going as well as I would have liked them to.

    Taking a deep breath I tried to see if there were any positives to this, no matter how small.  I had at least confirmed the fact that these twisted creatures existed.  And by the looks of it I¡¯d gone a good way towards thinning their ranks.  The way they all came swarming at me at once made me think that the ones that lay before me must make up all the population of at least the immediate area, maybe even a large portion of the forest.

    Maybe I should take to the air again, it seemed to be my best option.  If I got high enough then not only would I be out of range to most attacks, but I¡¯d also be able to get a better view of the area.

    I started to slowly rise higher, away from the strewn remains of the monsters.  Soon I was just passing the canopy and could see the spreading field of tree-tops before me.  I was just about to start in the direction I¡¯d been following before when . . .

    ¡°HHHHYYYYAAAASSSSHHHHKKK!¡±

    All further thoughts were cut off as the . . . roar ripped through my eardrums and seemed to rattle my brain.  For a moment it was as though I couldn¡¯t think, all I could do was hover there, slack-jawed, as my mind tried to reboot itself.

    The iconic roar of Godzilla flashed through my thoughts.  A roar that had been created using a double bass and a resin-coated glove.  The result was something monstrous and unnatural, but organic at the same time.  A roar that was almost as famous as Godzilla itself.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The roar that had rattled me was kind of like that, in that it seemed impossible that it could have come from a throat of mere flesh and blood.  It had been too loud, too forceful, it had almost hit like a physical force!  The world spun, slipping in and out of focus, then came back into clarity just in time to see the monstrosity coming at me.

    For a brief moment, I thought that this must be another one of the warped animals, maybe a latecomer to the frenzy.  Then I got a good look at it and all such thoughts fled my mind.

    The thing looked as though some malignant god had decided to combine the worst traits of a snake, a spider, a centipede, and some sort of tentacled sea monster into a single unholy terror, and fed the result growth hormones its entire life . . . I don¡¯t think I could have found anything more alien if I¡¯d made my way to Mars.

    The monstrosity was long, its front portion as massive as a cargo hauler truck, then tapering out to a longer and narrower tail that reached back into the trees.  I couldn¡¯t tell just how long it was, but it had to be at least ten metres, maybe even more.  The front of the creature was dominated by a single massive maw filled with teeth.  It reminded me of the classic depiction of a fantasy monster called a sandworm, but worse. Rather than simply being a hole lined with fangs this seemed more predatory, more designed to bite and crush than it was to simply swallowing something whole.

    Both under its bulk and to the sides were clusters and rows of limbs.  The clusters were to the sides and beneath the mouth and were the longest of the appendages it seemed to possess, while its sides were lined with uncountable smaller limbs as a centipede would be.  However, these limbs weren¡¯t the armoured and segmented appendages that would have been natural to some giant insect.  Instead, they were curving sinuous tendrils, each as black as obsidian, each armoured in small flexible plates of chitin.  The thinnest among them were still as thick as my wrist, while the largest of them were slightly wider than my whole ribcage.  The longest of them extended from the front and sides of the thing, making me think of some mutated spider.  Other tendrils, the ¡®legs¡¯ of the centipede, ran down the length of the body, the ¡®legs¡¯ growing shorter the further they went until they were little more than nubs.

    The front ones though, were terrifying.  Muscular, thick, long as telephone poles, and sheathed in chitin to the point where it looked like they were armoured.  The thinner tentacles ended in barbed points, claws clearly meant to impale and subdue prey, while the larger ones seemed to have retractable claws like some deep sea Kraken.

    It came like a living avalanche, all stealth suddenly gone!  Trees were forced aside, wood snapping beneath it¡¯s weight, I think I even heard the sound of breaking stone.  A natural disaster made of flesh, muscle and claws.

    Then there was no more time for careful observation.

    The monster came at me shockingly fast!  Nothing so massive had any right to be able to move like that!  It just coiled up, then shot out at me as though it had been launched by a catapult.

    I dodged of course, or rather I tried to.  But even as I darted to the side those long tendrils lashed out, trying to snatch me out of the air.  I felt the shock of the impact as the limbs crashed against the sphere of my defences.  Then I sensed the shield begin to break under the pressure as the tentacle wrapped around the globe.  The underside of the limb seemed to split open like an overcooked sausage, but rather than blood or viscera spilling forth it was as though the thick tendril was unfolding, revealing a concealed inside.

    Suckers clamped onto the outer surface of my shield, the round suction finding purchase upon the glass-smooth protection.  I only had enough time to blink in surprise once before there was another impact as a second tentacle latched on!  Then a third, and then a fourth!  The sphere I¡¯d encased myself in was a good four or five metres in radius, giving me room to comfortably half-spread my wings if I wanted to. It was quite large.  Even so, more than half of its surface was now obscured by the crushing tentacles wrapped about it.

    I didn¡¯t have any time to think about it though, because I suddenly felt a sharp drag downwards as the monster¡¯s weight was reclaimed by gravity!

    It . . . it was too much!  I was having to concentrate to maintain my defences, and that was leaving me with no spare attention to devote to staying aloft.  I could feel myself being dragged downwards.  It was slow, even with the huge weight my magic seemed to be resisting somewhat, but it was happening

    ¡°EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHH!¡±

    The roar rattled my defences again and set my ears to ringing.  But this time the roar seemed to be somehow muted. The edge taken off it.  Because of my frantic concentration on maintaining my shield, it took me a moment to understand what was happening.  I was so wrapped up in the monster¡¯s limbs that they were muffling its own roar.  For some reason, the irony that it was unintentionally protecting me due to its eagerness to get me struck me as ridiculous.  But I couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted, not with how things were!

    ¡°EEeEhhHHhhHH, EEeEEeEh TTtTttEeeeeHh, eEeehh . . . EEEHHH . . .¡±

    The roar came again, but it sounded different now, more broken.  Rather than the all-encompassing cacophony it had been, it was stuttered.  I was sure that meant something, maybe even something important, but I really couldn¡¯t spare the attention to work it out.

    I could feel the tentacles tightening around me.  I could feel the way the pressure was being applied, but there was method to it.  The beast was after any weakness it could find, anywhere it could break through.  I was holding on, but I was starting to feel all too much like a delicious morsel hiding behind some all-too-fragile glass!

    I . . . I had to fight back!

    There wasn¡¯t really any choice.  This thing had the power to break through, and it had the size to do it in multiple places at once.  Defence was only a delay, attacking was the only chance I had to survive!

    One of my hands twitched from where it had been pointing as I directed my magic to shore up my shield and instead aimed at one of the tentacles trying to crush me.  A plan crystalized in my mind even as my arcana reached out.  I¡¯d crush the tentacles one after another, then deal with the main body.  Once it was taken care of, I¡¯d try and see if I could follow its trail back to wherever it came from.  Given its size and sheer monstrosity, it had undoubtedly received much more of whatever had twisted the other creatures, so following its trail back to its lair might get me closer to the source of the twisting.

    However, all thoughts of my future actions vanished as my arcana wrapped around one huge tendril . . . and dissolved as it tried to crush it!

    Shit!

    The curse echoed through my mind as I realized what was happening.  Unlike the earlier creatures I¡¯d killed this one had the same magic resistance that kept me from using this trick on either Joan or Hadriel.  That meant . . .

    The realization that my arcana couldn¡¯t directly harm the creature slammed into me just as the left side of my shield cracked!  There wasn¡¯t any sound, but there was a sensation in my head of something breaking like glass.  My eyes whipped around, and I could see it, a jagged crack forming across my shield, one that was growing even as I stared at it!

    Frantically I reached out, reinforcing the globe, strengthening it even as I repaired it.  As I watched the crack faded, the shield returning to its previous unmarred surface.

    Then the air shook as the creature bellowed again.

    ¡°TE . . . TE . . . TEEE DEESSS DEESSS!  TE TTTEEE . . . EEEE TEEEE . . . DDEEESSSSS!¡±

    Again, there was that roar, but now it wasn¡¯t sounding like just some animal noise.  Rather there was something off about it, as though I was missing something important.  But I wasn¡¯t at my most attentive.

    Instead, I was trying to frantically find more options, ones that would keep me alive.  Telekinesis was the magic I was best practised in, but right now it was of minimal use.  Sure, I could have switched to using TK blasts to attack the tentacles, but that would take more concentration than I had to spare.

    My mind seized on that, the notion that at that moment retaliation was impractical.  This thing was stronger than the other monsters, larger, faster, and it had magic resistance.  Just what it was, I had no idea, but it was dangerous, taking it on directly wasn¡¯t the smart move, not yet.

    Using the spell vial did cross my mind, but I dismissed it.  I didn¡¯t need a rescue, I just needed to get away, get some range, get some space to think.  It was a decent enough plan, but there were some problems with it!

    Those damned tentacles were wrapped tight around my shield and even if I were to dismiss it and try to escape, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to slip between them.  Maybe, if I moved fast enough, but I didn¡¯t see it as all that likely, a bad gamble to make.  No, if I wanted out then I was going to have to think more creatively.

    I wouldn¡¯t say that inspiration struck.  It was more a case of another part of my shield cracked, and I acted out of sheer desperation, trying to throw myself away from the direction of the tentacle in question.  There was absolutely no direction or control to the movement, just purely frantic action.  It was just a gut-level reaction that sent me, my shields, and the monster holding onto them, all crashing to the side.

    I knew that the creature had dragged me down, but I didn¡¯t know how far, and I couldn¡¯t really make out any details as my vision was obscured by the very tentacles that were trying to get at me.  So, I was caught by surprise when my shield barrelled into a tree that was thicker at the trunk than I was wide at my shoulders.

    My shield was pretty strong though, and even though I ploughed into the trunk at speeds roughly equal to a car on a freeway, it didn¡¯t break.  The poor tree shuddered and creaked, but it didn¡¯t fall either, and I found myself resting up against it.  The impact had come as a sharp jolt to me, one that made my head ring even as my defences kept me from suffering more damage.

    The tentacles that had been wrapped around my protection on the other hand . . .

    ¡°TTEEE DEESSS!  EEEEE TTEEE DEEESSS!  DEEESSTTT!¡±

    Again, those shrieks, less like animal roaring and now sounded disturbingly close to human.  Of course, any human trying to shout those words so loudly would probably end up shredding their own vocal cords, but that didn¡¯t seem to be slowing the monster down.  It was strange, I would have expected its roars to be inhuman wails of pain, not something getting closer to human sounds.

    The reason for that pain was all too clear to me.  When the monster had latched onto my shield it had done so with four of its main forelimbs, the longest and thickest of its tendrils.  One of them had lost its grip due to my sudden movement, and two of them had clung to where they were, though they were now only hanging on rather than trying to break through, and it was the last one that caught my attention as I reoriented myself.

    That one had been caught between my shield and the tree as I¡¯d crashed into it.  The limb had seemed strong, but uncurling as it had to use its suckers had left it somewhat vulnerable.  Being caught between the wood and my shield at the moment of impact had crushed the centre part of it into bloody mush, causing the ¡®head¡¯ of the tentacle to flop off my defences.

    The shortened remains pulled back, trailing blood as it went, the movement reminding me that I couldn¡¯t afford to get lost in thought!  I had a chance, I had to take it.

    My shield fell from around me, the tentacles that had been clinging to it suddenly finding themselves hanging in the air.  My right wing lashed out, the sword-like feathers slashing at the dark flesh with all the power that the new limb possessed.  As I did so I focused as hard as I could, dragging all the arcana I could muster into a single bolt the size of an apple and launching it at another tentacle on my left.

    The blast wasn¡¯t the greatest I could have managed.  I just didn¡¯t have the time or focus to spare to manage that.  Still, using pure telekinetic force was my best bet, given my limitations.  Sure, I could cook up a potent fireball or lightning bolt, given enough time, but time wasn¡¯t something I had too much of.

    My attacks were met with mixed results.  The blade-like feathers of my wing did bite deeply into the large tentacle to my right, the slash going two-thirds of the way to severing it completely.  My TK blast was less successful, the impact managing to knock the large appendage back, but doing little else to it.  Still, it was enough, for a brief moment I was free.

    I didn¡¯t waste the chance.  My wings snapped closed behind me, and I spun through the air, an almost pirouette-like motion, coming around so that the tree was now directly between me and the creature trying to get at me.  Before me, a tentacle came stabbing out but struck the trunk where I had been a moment before instead.

    ¡°TTTTT . . . EEEE . . . TTEEE!  DDEEE . . . TTEESSSS . . . TTEEE . . . TEEE DEETESSSTT!¡±

    My eyes darted to the monster as I realized that it was talking!  Yes, its words were distorted and inhuman, but they were recognizable as . . . French?

    My moment of stunned surprise cost me because the tentacle that struck the tree did . . . something.  It wasn¡¯t a move that a human could have ever duplicated, in fact, I doubted anything that had an endoskeleton could have done it.  The flexible limb seemed to move like a wave as a single ¡®ripple¡¯ moved down it, then slammed into the tree.

    It was a thick tree, one that had taken my impact and only lost some of its outer bark.  People often forget that tree trunks are extremely tough, so much so that you can drive a runaway twelve-wheel truck into one and more often than not it will be the truck that ends up totalled and the tree would still be standing there, scratched and torn, but upright and firmly rooted.

    So, I was rather justified in my shock when the ¡®ripple¡¯ reached the tip of the tendril, made the limb snap like the end of a cracked whip, and a large chunk of the tree trunk exploded into splinters!

    Thankfully I¡¯d already re-established a shield before me, though in this case, it was only a simple round one, rather than a complete sphere around me.  Still, I was glad it was there because it was large and strong enough to protect me from the hail of splinters that would otherwise have pincushioned me.  I might be tougher now, but I¡¯d learnt the hard way that I was a long way from being invulnerable, sharpened wood could still cut me.

    That was only of secondary concern though.  Far more worrying was the tree that was coming down.

    Whatever the creature had done had smashed out a hole more than halfway through the trunk, and with a great snapping groan the remaining portion gave way to the weight of the mass of branches above it.  More snapping could be heard above, as the branches of the falling tree got entangled with the bows of its neighbours, then broke them as its weight tore them loose.  Fortunately, the torn-out section had been mainly to the front of the tree, so when it collapsed, it was to the side rather than on top of me.  Unfortunately, that collapse meant that I was bereft of the moderate cover I¡¯d previously been hiding behind.

    ¡°TE!  TE!  TEEeEeeeEE . . .  JE TeEee dETesTe!¡±

    The words came again, distorted, but all too recognizable as human speech.  I threw myself backwards, trying to open distance even as I frantically worked to spread my shield to fully encompass me, but as I did so I finally got my first good look at the monster.

    And I finally saw just what was talking!

 Chapter 10: Hunter and Prey: Part Two

    Honesty, I wasn¡¯t too sure how I¡¯d missed . . . it? . . . him? . . . before.  The figure wasn¡¯t hiding, instead, he was plain to see upon the top of the ¡®head¡¯ of the monster.  I was hesitant to call the figure a person though, because their figure seemed to be every bit as distorted as their voice.  In the most basic appearance, they seemed to be a man, but it was only a guess due to the breadth of their shoulders and their general size.  Almost all their other physical traits were somehow warped, though it was difficult to be sure.

    The main thing was that he seemed to be half-merged with the monster.  His legs and hips were completely gone, either melted into the beast or just buried in its flesh.  He seemed to be slumped forward, his forearms and the surface of his chest sunken into the carapace of the monster.  In some perverse way, it looked as though he had laid face down upon the creature''s back, then begun to sink into it, and was now struggling to stay above the surface.

    His body, what I could see of it, was grotesque, there was no other way to describe it.  His frame was almost stick thin, but with lumpy growths all over him.  His left shoulder sported a cancerous-looking bulge the size of a melon, while his arms were each marked by at least four smaller growths.  His face was also deformed, growths beneath his skin making one side of his face bloated, while the other side was gaunt, almost hollow.  His forehead was afflicted as well, a smaller lump making it seem as though a small horn was trying to grow from one temple.

    To add to his strangeness his hair was long and grey but shot through with black streaks.  This, combined with the dirty and greasy look to it, only served to heighten the appearance of someone diseased and desperate.

    And lastly, there were his eyes!

    If eyes are the windows to the soul, then I had no idea what that said about the remnant of a man before me.  Those eyes were burning, as though he were trying to set the world on fire simply by looking at it!  I¡¯d seen the force of Joan¡¯s faith before, and I¡¯d also seen the inhuman conviction in Hadriel¡¯s eyes, but this was like some sort of black mirror of such gazes.

    And those burning eyes . . . they were locked on me.  I had no idea why, but I was currently the target of all the anger that they contained, and something told me that unless I was careful, that anger would gleefully feed me to that fire!

    The monster, or rather the man melded with the monster, seemed to pause for an instant as our eyes met.  There was something there, intelligence beneath the rage, an understanding that I had seen him, that I understood he was no mindless animal.  It was only a brief thing though, because in the next moment, I was once more moving, and he was again charging.

    ¡°JE TE DETESTE! JE TE DETESTE! JE TE DETESTTTTTTTTTTE!!!!¡±

    The words seemed loud enough to shake the ground, but they were much clearer now, more recognizable as something close to the utterings of a human.  Well, except for that last word.  That one seemed to trail off into an inhuman roar that came not simply from the mouth of the human body, but also from the gaping maw of the body he was attached to.

    That was the last thought I had time for because after that any distraction would have meant my death!

    The huge monster came surging at me, more like an onrushing tide than a living creature.  All four of the free main tentacles came at me, the others acting as legs to pull it along the ground in a strange mixture of a snake¡¯s slither, and an octopus moving over sand in the deeps.  I was only just able to get my shields about me in time to block the blows, and that single defence was enough to let me know that things had changed in this fight.  These were deliberate attacks, clear efforts to smash through my defences, and me along with them.

    I retreated, falling back as I did my best to maintain my protection.  It wasn¡¯t what I wanted, but as things stood it was all I could manage.  I wanted to take off, to shoot up and open distance, but the massive creature wasn¡¯t giving me a moment¡¯s respite.  All I could do was fall back and focus on my shield, nothing more.

    Not good!  Not good at all!  I was managing to maintain the shield, but I was certain that I¡¯d run out of power long before this thing ran out of stamina.  My only advantage this time was that it didn¡¯t have a hold on me.  This meant I could open more distance between us and make it harder for it to maintain a continuous assault.  The problem was that I wasn¡¯t sure how long I could keep it up, not with thick woods behind me.  It was something of a miracle that I¡¯d managed to make it as far as I had without finding my way blocked.

    But then, it happened.

    I should have realized that with my shield as big as it was there was no way I¡¯d be able to fit between the trees once they grew denser.  Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied with the attacks I was fending off to realize it until the back of my protective sphere found itself lodged between two thick trees.  Each of them was at least twice as thick as the tree the monster had smashed, and the space between them was barely more than a couple of metres apart.  Some corner of my mind wondered how two trees so close could have grown so big when they should have stunted each other¡¯s growth, but that was peripheral to the realization that I wasn¡¯t able to retreat further!

    The first blow was deflected by my shield, but the second impact cracked it.  I had it fixed before the third impact hit, but I wasn¡¯t able to repair the crack from that strike before the fourth one hit.  Then another.  And another.  And another.  They came so fast that, again and again and again!  Behind me I could hear the groan of wood, then the cracking of splinters as I was driven back by the force, and in front of me I could see my barrier beginning to break.  I couldn¡¯t keep up, that was the simple truth!  This thing, it was hitting me faster than I could recover.

    Even as the final blow shattered my shield into shards, I hurled myself backwards, both my magic and my wings acting in unconscious concert to move me as fast as I could.  Ahead of me, the last blow stabbed through the spot that I¡¯d occupied only moments before, impaling the ground hard enough to drive the tendril more than two feet into the earth.

    ¡°NON!  SOIS MAUDIT!  MEURS!  DISPARAIS!¡±

    Once more I could practically hear the rage and hatred drip from the words, the trees around me shaking from the sheer volume.  Then the sinuous limb I¡¯d only just avoided split open, more than a dozen smaller tendrils, each no thicker than my thumb, shooting out of it.

    The sudden attack caught me by surprise, the new limbs seeming to grow out of the first one like branches coming from a trunk, only at insane speeds.  They had reach too, easily crossing the distance separating us, and were fast enough to make it before I could raise another shield.

    ¡°Aaarrgghh!¡±

    It was less an exclamation of pain than it was one of surprise.  These tendrils lacked the hardened spear-like ends that the larger ones had and tried to grab me rather than impale me.  My arms came up instinctually, keeping them from my face, but the tentacles simply wrapped around them, tightening instantly and with such strength that I could feel the blood flow in them being cut off.  Then they were dragging at me, trying to pull me back towards the monster as he roared, a wordless howl.

    This time I did think.  It was a frantic and desperate thought, but it was enough to let me take action born of reason rather than instinct.  Rather than trying to pull back, and just pitting my strength against that of the tendrils, I shot sideways, dragging them against one of the trees.  My action must have been as much of a surprise to the monster as the tendrils had been to me, because for a moment there was a little bit of slack, of give to them, as though they had momentarily been unsure of what to do.

    I used the moment as ruthlessly as I could, dodging behind another tree trunk, dragging the tendrils behind me.  It was an awkward zigzag, one meant to do nothing more than tangle the tendrils, maybe discomfort them slightly as I pulled them taut against the trees.  Still, it must have managed something, even if only to confuse the creature, because, in the next moment, the grip on my arms loosened slightly.

    That was all I needed.  I hadn¡¯t moved all that far, but I¡¯d managed to move away from the clearing, and been able to put some more trees in between me and the monster.  It could have probably gotten through them easily enough, given the way it had burst into the clearing without having to knock them over.  But tangled up as it was that would have been more difficult.  I just needed him to hesitate for a moment, after all, then I could begin my counterattack!

    Most of my more potent offensive capabilities were touch-based, and I now had some convenient limbs holding me, but as of yet unable to harm me.  Fire, ice, or earth might not be able to help me here, but lightning . . . that was an altogether different proposition.  Lightning wasn¡¯t fire that you could recoil from when it scorched you.  If I¡¯d used my earth or my arcana then I could have cut or crushed the tendrils, but that would have inflicted only momentary pain and not real damage.  Lightning was different though, faster, deadlier, and all it needed was a moment, a touch, and then it could surge through a body faster than you could blink.

    Turning my mind inwards I focused on the mana of my core, feeling its flow, following it through me, and then into the halo hovering above me.  It came easily now, only the work of an instant.  A good thing too, because an instant was all I had.  As my fingers grabbed hold of some of the tentacles, I could feel them tense again, getting ready to do something.  I couldn¡¯t give them that chance, so I reached out, through the halo and to the colours that represented magic to me.

    The one I wanted was a bit of a strange one.  Electricity and lightning were different, distinct.  Both were covered by a single concept despite their differences though, one being wild and one being tamed.

    In my head, the concept I reached for didn¡¯t really have a name.  It was both lightning and electricity, but there was no name for it.  Even stranger was the colour it was linked to because it was one of the strange hues that didn¡¯t really exist in the world.

    A concept without a name, a colour without a hue, that was how lightning/electricity sat amidst the multitude of powers I could call on, and it wasn¡¯t even the most complicated.

    The halo thrummed above me as it helped me in touching my power, and then I felt the now familiar surge as it released through my hands and into my enemy, the electricity visible as it crackled down the tendrils!  I felt something, a connection, a link, a-

    ////<u>RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE WORLD, RAGE AGAINST FATE, RAGE AGAINST THE INTRUDER! RAGE! RAGE!  RAGE!</u>

    ////HATRED, POISONOUS HATRED!  WHY HIM?!  WHY HIM AND NOT ME?!  HATE HIM FOR IT!  HATE THEM FOR IT!  HATE! HATE!  HATE!

    ////HUNGRY, SO HUNGRY!  MORE!  MUST EAT MORE!  MAGIC!  FLESH!  HUNT IT!  EAT IT!  FEED THE HUNGER!  FEED!  FEED! FEED!

    ////Despair, black and clinging! Why this?  Why go on?  Why try to live when any sort of life is impossible?

    ////wHy mE?  wHy dO i HaVe tO bE tHe oNe tO sUfFeR?  whY Me?  WhY mE?  wHy Me?\\\\

    I felt the tentacles jerk for a moment, the smell of ozone suddenly thick in the air.  There was an instant where I could see the electricity crackling along the thin limbs, but that didn¡¯t matter to me.

    Instead, I found myself wondering what the hell just happened?!?!

    I¡¯d . . . I¡¯d been able to feel what the monster felt?  That was the closest I could come to describing it.  It wasn¡¯t so much that I could tell what he felt, rather it was as though I had suddenly been able to feel it as well, the emotions as clear and sharp as my own, but strangely distant at the same time.  I could feel them, but they left no mark, no imprint.  That . . . that was good, that mixture of rage, hatred, and despair, I didn¡¯t think that a sane mind was capable of supporting it.

    Stolen story; please report.

    And that hunger . . .

    A shudder ran through me, even as the tendrils went limp.  I wasn¡¯t sure just how much I¡¯d been able to hurt the monster with my attack, but a glance told me that it had at least paused in place, maybe stunned by the sudden shock.  I wasn¡¯t exactly sure how much electricity I¡¯d used against it, but I instinctively knew that it had been weaker than a natural lightning strike, so I doubted that I¡¯d managed anything fatal.

    Away, I had to get away!

    The single thought ripped its way across my mind as I tried to comprehend not only what I was seeing, but also what I had just felt.  Nothing like that had ever happened before!  Not when sparring with Joan, not when being taught by Hadriel.  To suddenly feel those foreign emotions swamping me, and then nothing . . . it had been too much!  Panic, desperation, and a simple primal need for space all came together, urging me to get away!  I launched myself upwards and away from the beast.

    It saw what I was doing, but it was too late to do anything.  I saw it curl for another leap, but this time I was too far away.  It tried anyway, the melded bulk of man and monster shooting upwards in a way that should have been impossible for something so huge.  Long tentacles reached out, snapping like whips, but fell short by a good margin.  Then the beast went crashing down, breaking branches, crushing undergrowth, and even toppling one of the younger trees.

    What was even stranger was the odd silence in which the monster acted.  There was no roar, no howled words, nothing.  It was as though a switch had been thrown and the earlier distorted roaring was just gone.

    Still, as it came down I slowed my ascent, turning to stare down at where it had come down even as I continued to rise.  With my improved eyesight I could still see the monster¡¯s form clearly, despite the distance.

    The thing was recovering from its fall quickly, all of its larger limbs either pushing it up to regain its footing or coiling around trees to aid it in reorienting itself.  It was quite a sight, watching something so large moving so fluidly.  Even its earlier injuries didn¡¯t seem to be slowing it down.

    In fact . . . those wounds seemed to be gone.  One of those larger tentacles should have been missing a good chunk of its end, but as my eyes flicked from one tendril to the next none of them seemed to be shorter than any of the others.  It was only when I saw some visible burns on one of the limbs, that I understood what was happening.  The injuries weren¡¯t deep, but they were wide, as though swathes of skin had been ripped off.  The chitin had remained, but the edges of it were clearly burnt and still smoked in places.

    I felt a surge of both guilt and triumph at the sight.  Guilt that I would ever inflict such a grievous wound on a living creature.  Triumph that I¡¯d finally been able to deal some damage to this monster that had been getting the better of me so far.  It was a strange conflict of emotions, one that was quickly chased away by what I saw next.

    The burns were shrinking.

    Right before my eyes massive wounds rippled at the edges, then were replaced by healthy hide and chitin, diminishing in size until they were gone.  I gaped for a moment, then my eyes flicked to the other tentacles, from one to the next, to the next, to the next.  All of them, every single one, was fine, with no hint of an injury.  As I continued to rise I could only blink in incomprehension until it finally clicked.

    This monster . . . he wasn¡¯t just healing, he was flat-out regenerating!

    I knew all gods possessed some form of advanced recovery, as did angels and demons.  It varied from one being to the next and was tied to whatever type of immortality they might possess.  That being said, it was possible to maim a god or leave lasting wounds.  Hephaestus, for example, was left crippled after his mother cast him from Olympus for being born ugly.  It was harder for mortals to inflict such wounds, but it was possible.  Of course, in the case of such injuries gods could simply abandon their ¡®avatar¡¯ bodies and return to their home planes, then when they reincarnated it would be in a once more perfect form.  Angels and demons had their own ways of doing something similar.

    For the most part, the wholesale regeneration of entire lost limbs in a matter of seconds was the province of powerful monsters.  Creatures such as the Hydra were an excellent example, beings that could recover from almost any injury, even going so far as to grow back entire lost heads.  In the end, it had taken Heracles himself to bring it down, one of the most powerful demigods ever, according to gods willing to talk on the matter, and even then he¡¯d needed help to do it.  Hell, technically he hadn¡¯t ever managed to fully kill the monster, given that one of its heads had been straight-up immortal, he¡¯d simply cut it off then buried it under a multi-ton boulder.

    I didn¡¯t think that the thing beneath me was on that level, but the fact that it had been able to completely regrow the lost end of its tentacle in the few moments since it had been smashed off was . . . worrying.

    For the moment I was safe.  Well, safe-ish.  Depending on how smart the thing beneath me was then just being out of its reach didn¡¯t guarantee it couldn¡¯t attack me.  In its position, I¡¯d have started to throw stones and boulders at me.  I knew it was damned strong, so it could probably have them coming at me as though they¡¯d been fired from a canon.  It didn¡¯t look like the man part of this thing still had enough control to be making those decisions, but I had no way to be sure.  The last thing I wanted was to be shot out of the air like a duck during hunting season.

    Beneath me the monster was turning around, its tentacles lifting it so the human form on the back of its maw could stare up at me.  Despite the distance between us, I knew that our eyes met for a moment.  It was too far now to get a clear look, but I could swear that those eyes were looking right at me.

    Then the monster let out one more roar and then turned away.  For a moment I was confused as to where it was going, then it started to shovel the dead bodies of the monsters I¡¯d killed into its gaping maw.  Seeing this there was a brief feeling of . . . respite.  It wasn¡¯t coming after me straight away, so I had some time to gather my thoughts.

    I was out of my depth here, that much was clear.  This thing . . . I wasn¡¯t sure if I could kill it.  Lightning had been one of my deadliest options, but it seemed like this monster had just shaken it off.  And what I had managed to inflict was being healed so fast it was ridiculous!  Did I have any other options available to me that would do worse?

    Well, there was fire, if I took the time to build it up and strengthen it.  And how well could flesh heal or regenerate once it was frozen solid?

    I had options, and that knowledge was enough to help the dread that I¡¯d begun to feel rising up in me settle down.  I could do this, I kept repeating it to myself as I tried to organize my thoughts and get my ideas into some sort of order.  Yes, I¡¯d been almost completely overwhelmed by this monster¡¯s attack, and I¡¯d been almost completely on the defensive the entire time  But that didn¡¯t mean that I was helpless against it, not with some prep time.

    And . . . maybe allies.  During the attack, I hadn¡¯t really had time to give it any serious consideration.  Truthfully, it was more a case that once the ¡®fight¡¯ had started I simply hadn¡¯t had enough spare mind to recall the charm, let alone use it.  Taking out the charm and breaking it wouldn¡¯t have taken much concentration, but it was concentration I could ill afford to spare at the time.

    Maybe I should try calling them now though.  Would that disappoint them?  Would they be shamed at my lack of resolve?  My fists clenched again as I tried to resolve my emotional quandary.  Why did being sensible feel like cowardice?  I had to admit, some small part of me felt disgusted that I was seriously contemplating it, but I told myself that it was just unthinking pride and caveman machismo.  The thing down there was dangerous, and it was only an idiot that allowed pride to dictate strategy.

    My hand dipped into my pocket that held the small vial of glowing liquid.  I didn¡¯t plan to use it, not yet.  The gesture was more a nervous action, a desire to bring out the small magical item simply so that I could get a better look at it, and get a better sense of what I¡¯d do if I chose to use it.

    Only, when my fingers reached in, I found no small artefact, only an empty pocket with a large hole torn in the bottom of it.

    My mind just locked up as I tried to process what my senses were telling me.  No, actually I damned well knew what they were telling me, rather I was doing my best to try to come up with something else for them to mean other than the truth.

    Gone!  It was gone!  When had it happened?  Had it been when I hit the tree?  When I was dodging?  Had it been the first time I tried to get away by flying?  It had fallen out of the tear, so when had I gotten the tear?  I¡¯d been protected by my shield all the time when the smaller beasts had been attacking me, and I¡¯d kept up that protection until it got broken on the ground . . .

    That was the only time it could have happened, so at least I had a general idea of where it was.  But that spot was only a dozen or so metres from where the monster was busy gorging on the bodies of the dead beasts I¡¯d left behind.  I could try retrieving it with telekinesis, but that would only work if I could see it.  So far, my abilities in that skill were limited by line of sight, unless it was at very close range.

    I realized just how . . . screwed I was.  I was up against a monster I didn¡¯t feel ready for, my backup didn¡¯t know I needed them and I had no way of calling them, and on top of it all I had absolutely no idea what to do!  I could practically feel the panic welling up inside me, a hungry hole all too eager to gobble me up if I let it.

    Oddly enough it was fear that saved me, fear of giving in to panic, fear of losing control, fear of breaking.

    Fear was something the entire world had become familiar with during the dark days of the Black Sun.

    I closed my eyes took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.  I did this again, and then a third time, each repetition leaving me feeling calmer, more in control.  It might not have been all that smart to do it while the monster was still so close, but I was still slowly rising, and the distance between us was enough that even if it did think to start throwing rocks I¡¯d be a tough target.

    When I no longer felt like I was going to lose it I opened my eyes and looked back down.

    More than half the bodies were gone now, mostly the smaller ones that he¡¯d been able to just throw into his maw.  As I watched the creature worked on one of the larger ones, its limbs tearing off chunks as large as I was.

    Gods, just how much was it going to eat?  Mentally I tried to add up the sheer volume of the corpses it had consumed, comparing that to how large the monster¡¯s stomach could be.  I could see a large bulge starting to form along its underside, but it didn¡¯t seem big enough to hold all the mass it had consumed.

    He¡¯d soon be done and I had to think about just what I was going to do next.  Leaving was an option, after all, I was here to try and find the source of the corruption, not fight every single monster I came across.  Leaving this thing at my back seemed like a bad idea though.  If some hiker or park worker came across him they¡¯d be dead, and if I came back there might be another ambush.  Dealing with him now seemed like the better option.

    I wasn¡¯t sure how I wanted to do that, how I wanted to advance.  My simplest option was to prepare as much firepower as I could scrape together, then hit the creature beneath me as hard as I could and not stop until it was very dead.

    Finding Hadriel¡¯s SOS spell was something I had to try.  I didn¡¯t need to use it but having it there to be used was a step in the right direction.  Of course, I didn¡¯t know how to go about it, but I had plenty of motivation, didn¡¯t I?  And that, and some magic, had to count for something.

    Joan had explained the basics of stuff like remote vision and scrying, though she hadn¡¯t gone into detail.  At the time I hadn¡¯t been too interested, since she¡¯d said it would have to wait until I was better at manipulating magic.  I¡¯d wanted to learn how to blast things, how to fly, how to protect myself.

    Now I was starting to regret that.

    Closing my eyes, I tried to remember what she¡¯d said.  It had been something about . . . using the magic itself as a sensory organ?  So that was, what, seeing through the magic?  I could do something like that up close, feel when things were getting very near to me.  It wasn¡¯t much use in a sparring match, since Joan and Hadriel moved too quickly for me to react when their practice weapons came that near, but I could feel it.  Could I do something like that here?

    Reaching out I tried to visualize the small bottle that had been handed to me, tried to visualize the exact colour of the liquid within, maybe even the feeling of the magic within.  It had been made by Hadriel, and she¡¯d hit me with her magic enough times during our sparring that I had something of a feel for it, although most of the time it simply felt like painful lightning.  Keeping all of that in my mind I stretched out with my magic, fumbling blindly to find what I wanted.

    To my surprise, I felt something almost immediately, though it wasn¡¯t what I was looking for.  Instead of the bottle of magic, I felt a . . . connection, something that ran from me to . . . somewhere else.

    I¡¯d not encountered anything like this before, but that wasn¡¯t saying all that much.  It was definitely a connection of some sort, but as things stood I could only perceive the end that was ¡®plugged in¡¯ to me.  After it left me I could tell that it went somewhere, but otherwise it was invisible, untouchable.

    No, not untouchable, more like ¡®empty¡¯.  The link had some firmness to it, but it lacked any energy, any vitality.  It was a line without any power running through it, a dead connection.

    So, I did the logical thing and channelled my magic into it.

    It wasn¡¯t a completely reckless move, though I admit that it was quite the gamble.  My line of reasoning was that Joan and Hadriel, and maybe Emma, though I didn¡¯t think it likely, were the only logical supernatural beings that I could have a connection to.  Joan had healed me up tonnes of times, so I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if that had led to some sort of link.  With Hadriel there was less of a connection, but it wasn¡¯t completely out of the realms of possibility.

    I wasn¡¯t too sure what I was expecting to happen.  I supposed that an ideal result would have been some sort of communication with either of my allies, at least enough to let them know I was in some sort of trouble.  However, rather than reaching off into the distance the link, once filled with magic, ran downwards from me, straight to the monster below.  I couldn¡¯t really see it, not with my eyes, but it was as though I could sense the direction of the link purely on instinct.

    What startled me was the feeling that accompanied the solidification of the connection.  Earlier, when I¡¯d felt the creature¡¯s emotions, there¡¯d been a similar connection, but that had felt like a foghorn going off next to my ear.  This time it was fainter, distant even, but there was something recognizable there.  Those emotions that had been like a collapsing mountain of burning rocks seemed to be just tumbling pebbles in the distance, but the emotions they carried, the intensity, shone through despite the ¡®distance¡¯.

    Unsure of what else to do I mentally reached out to the link, trying to see if it could do anything useful.

 Chapter 11: Words and Pain: Part One

    Another leg came free of the corpse with the wet sound of tearing meat.  The dripping appendage was easily as large as a full-grown man, but as it went into his maw, he felt nothing.  The hunger wanted more, demanded more.  These bodies . . . they were the greatest glut of food that he¡¯d come across since fleeing to these woods, and they still weren¡¯t enough.

    He could feel them settling into his lower body, feel them begin to break up and be absorbed into his form.  There was some relief, the hunger losing its edge, even if it didn¡¯t lose its teeth, but that was all.  There was no satisfaction, no satiation!  The hunger didn¡¯t just want meat, it wanted more.  It wanted the bright power he could taste in that distant figure, the same power he¡¯d supped upon when he consumed the elf-girl.

    Power, that was what his body wanted.  Power, not simply flesh.

    Well, whatever his body wanted, it seemed as though it had been denied today.  The winged figure had turned out to be stronger than the elf-girl.  In truth, he wasn¡¯t too sure how he felt about that.  Before there had been anger, fury at what he had seen, but it had been hot, fast, burning out quickly and leaving him feeling hollow again.  He supposed he should have been happy that the winged man had managed to escape being devoured, but it was as though he lacked the energy or even the will to care.

    It all seemed so pointless, what did he or his desires matter?  Every day he seemed to have less and less control over his monstrous side, every day he seemed to be sinking into it more.  How long until-

    *Hey!  Hey, can you hear me?*

    For a moment he was so startled that even his body paused in its eating.  It didn¡¯t last long though, and the tentacles resumed their delivery of food into his maw.

    *Hey!  Can! You! Hear! Me!*

    It was a bit louder now, but this time his body didn¡¯t even pause in response.

    He didn¡¯t either, as depressing as it was to admit, this wasn¡¯t anything too new to him.  He didn¡¯t know if it was a part of his . . . transformation, some other power that he couldn¡¯t control, or if it was just a sign that he was coming undone, but he had heard voices before.  Most of the time they were nonsensical, barely more than gibberish.  Other times they were snatches of conversations, as though he was just hearing one side of it.  then there were the pleas, the repetitions of the last moments of some of those poor bastards that had met their ends due to his inability to control the hunger.  Worst of all were the angry voices, the accusatory ones.  They railed at him and accused him of being weak, of being uncaring, of being a monster.  They spoke in the voices of his victims, but truly, he didn¡¯t know if they were real, or if they were simply the echoes of his guilt and self-hatred bouncing around inside his skull.

    He didn¡¯t want to have to deal with this, not now, not ever really.  He just wanted to do what he could to satiate the hunger, then return to his cave so he could sleep again.  With any luck this winged figure would just fly away, taking his taste far enough that the hunger could no longer sense it.  He didn¡¯t want to hear how he was a monster!  He didn¡¯t want to have to worry if his flagging sanity was finally beginning to break!  He didn¡¯t want-

    *HEY! CAN! YOU! HEAR! THIS?!*

    It was louder this time.  Not painfully so, but enough that he paused again, this time looking about himself.

    *HAH!  YOU DID HEAR THAT ONE!  WELL, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!  LOOK UP IF YOU CAN!*

    Almost without thinking about it, he reared up, his human eyes swinging to stare up into the blue sky, the floating figure that was out of his reach was the only thing that marred the expanse of blue.  The winged man was staring down at him, the look of concentration on his face clear despite the distance between them.

    *OKAY, SO YOU CAN HEAR ME.  CAN YOU REPLY?  HEY, COME ON!  SAY SOMETHING.*

    Again, the words rang in his head, not painful but definitely unsettling.  They didn¡¯t belong in his mind, but they were there all the same, and he had the growing certainty that they were real.

    ¡°H-hello?¡±

    It was strange to hear his voice asking the single-word question.  In the past months, he¡¯d only heard himself speak in desperation or anger, distorted by both his emotions and his transformation.  Now, to his surprise, he sounded more human than he had since he¡¯d begun to change.

    *I HEARD THAT!  OKAY . . . OKAY, YOU CAN HEAR ME.  THAT¡¯S GOOD.  SO . . . WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME?*

    He continued to stare up, unsure of just how he should feel.

    ¡°I . . . what?¡±

    *WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME?  WERE THOSE MONSTERS YOURS, OR SOMETHING?*

    ¡°What?  No!  No . . . those things just . . . showed up.  I . . . I eat them when I get too hungry.¡±

    *SO WHY DID YOU ATTACK ME?*

    ¡°I . . . I was hungry,¡± he admitted, somehow feeling shamed by the admission. ¡°You . . . I . . . I didn¡¯t want to!¡±

    There was a pause, and he felt his body beginning to shift its balance, the thicker tendrils getting ready to move him if needed.  Then the voice came again, and his form relaxed slightly, even as he felt his human body tense in expectation of more questions he didn¡¯t want to answer.

    *LOOK, WHAT¡¯S YOUR NAME? *

    That caught him off guard.  His name?  Gods, it had been weeks since he¡¯d even really thought of it.  It didn¡¯t even feel like it belonged to him anymore, as though he¡¯d changed so much that he wasn¡¯t that person now.  Still, he answered, an odd sense of urgency wanting to hear someone address him by that name, no matter how removed from it he felt.

    ¡°I . . . I¡¯m Etienne Beaumot.  I . . . I used to live in one of the towns nearby.¡±

    It all came back in a flood, the things that he hadn¡¯t thought about for what felt like ages.  Things he hadn¡¯t wanted to think about now that they were lost to him.  His home, his parents, his siblings, even his cat . . . oh god his cat!  He¡¯d . . . he¡¯d . . . his mind recoiled from the memory, and he started to feel the anger welling up again.

    *ALRIGHT, ETIENNE, DO YOU KNOW HOW I CAN HELP YOU?  CAN I JUST PULL YOU OUT OF THAT MONSTER, OR WOULD THAT JUST HURT YOU?*

    For a moment he . . . Etienne, his name was Etienne- wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the other was talking about, then it finally clicked.  The winged figure thought that his monstrous self was . . . was separate, that it was a monster that had caught him and was eating him.  A bout of hysterical laughter threatened to spill forth, but he swallowed it down.

    ¡°Look, you . . . you can¡¯t!  This monster, it¡¯s . . . it¡¯s me, okay?  I . . . I became this, there¡¯s nothing to save me from!¡±

    Yes, there was no saving him.  How could there be, he was a monster now

    *HOW?* the confusion in the mental voice was crystal clear. *LOOK, I¡¯VE BEEN SENT HERE TO SEE ABOUT ELIMINATING THE CAUSE OF ALL THESE MONSTERS.  DO YOU KNOW WHAT CHANGED YOU?  IF I CAN FIND IT THEN MAYBE . . .*

    He might have said more, but Etienne was no longer listening.  He thought he could save him?  Didn¡¯t he know that Etienne had thought of that so many times at the beginning?

    ¡°You . . . you can¡¯t save me!  YOU CAN¡¯T SAVE ME!¡±

    He repeated himself in a shout.  It wasn¡¯t the earth-shaking roar of before, rather it was an all too human bellow of frustration.

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    *WHAT DO YOU MEAN?*

    ¡°I started to change before I came here!¡± The words just spilt out, the chance to finally tell anyone what had happened to him for the first time . . .  he didn¡¯t even think of holding back. ¡°It was just after the Black Sun, and it happened so fast!  At first, I just got stronger, but then my legs started to change, then they turned into tentacles, and then they grew into a monster!  I ran!  I . . .  There was . . .  I came here!  But it just kept growing, and now, the monster is swallowing me up!  It¡¯s always hungry, and it¡¯s going to eat me as well!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t entirely coherent, but it was how it had been for him, the hope at the beginning of getting powers, the horror as things went wrong, the fear as he had to run, and the despair as the monster he was becoming seemed to grow and grow until it would eclipse him.

    *YOU¡¯RE A DEMIGOD?*

    Etienne almost laughed at that, a laugh that would have been filled with bitterness.

    ¡°Yeah, I think I am.  That¡¯s kind of funny, isn¡¯t it?  I . . . I think I was one of the first to get their powers.  But while others got to fly, throw fire around, or make wolves appear out of shadows, I got to be a monster.¡±

    Despite his best efforts a sour chuckle did escape, even as his eyes locked once more onto the figure in the sky.

    ¡°You¡¯re a demigod, right?  You¡¯re one that got lucky.  You got those wings, that power.  You got to be beautiful, you got to be strong.  And look what I got!  I got to be a monster!  I got to be so hungry that I can¡¯t control myself!  I got to live out here in the woods so I don¡¯t EAT MORE PEOPLE!¡±

    Even as he screamed the words he remembered.  He¡¯d run from home when the hunger grew too great, but he hadn¡¯t run soon enough.  On the edge of town, as he went stumbling towards the woods, he¡¯d come across someone.  He didn¡¯t know who they were, being so lost in the gnawing ache that consumed him.  He¡¯d just seen the man approach, then a red haze had fallen over Etienne.  When it fell away the hunger had receded and he¡¯d been standing over nothing bloodstains, not even bones having been spared.

    He¡¯d fled!  Sick with disgust and fear he¡¯d run as deep into the forest as he could and tried to stay away from people.  Twice it hadn¡¯t been enough.  Twice hikers had strayed too close and the hunger had taken over.   Twice he¡¯d been dragged along as the monster growing out of him had hunted and fed on humans again.

    *HEY, CALM DOWN I-*

    ¡°WHY ME? WHY DID IT HAPPEN TO ME?!  I DIDN¡¯T WANT THIS!  I DIDN¡¯T WANT TO BE A MONSTER!¡±

    For the first time, he had someone to hear him, to hear his frustration, his anger at an unfair world.  At last, he had someone to hear him give vent to all that he¡¯d been pushing down in an effort to stay sane.

    ¡°I DIDN¡¯T WANT TO BE HUNGRY ALL THE TIME!  I DIDN¡¯T WANT THE MONSTER TO BE SO HUNGRY THAT IT TAKES OVER!  I DIDN¡¯T WANT TO HURT ANYONE! I . . . I DIDN¡¯T WANT TO HAVE TO RUN TO KEEP MY FAMILY SAFE!  I . . . I didn¡¯t want to become a murderer!¡±

    He lost strength as he spoke the last words, the terrified face of the elf-girl rising up in his mind as he remembered her last moments.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to kill her, I didn¡¯t!  but . . . but she had so much power, and the hunger wanted her, and I . . . I couldn¡¯t stop it.  I . . . I kept away from people, but she came to me.  And she smelled so good, and the hunger could taste her magic, and it wouldn¡¯t stop, and . . .¡±

    He knew he was rambling now, but he couldn¡¯t stop.  He just wanted to explain to someone, anyone really, that he wasn¡¯t a monster.  He was caught in one, maybe being slowly consumed by it, but he himself was not a monster.  It might drag him along, make him feel its hunger, make him feel the sensation of the hunt and the kill, but it wasn¡¯t him that was making the choices.  Etienne Beaumot was not a murderer by choice, not by his own free will!

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want this!  I . . . I just wanted . . .  When I heard about the first demigods I wanted that, I wanted to be special!  It didn¡¯t want this! I didn¡¯t want . . .  I¡¯m sorry, alright? I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t save her.  I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t stop it!  I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry . . .¡±

    It was too much, the tumble of words had devolved into an almost incoherent babble of apologies and explanations, both of which tapered off into mumbling that eventually came to an end.  For a moment there was only silence, then the voice in his mind spoke again, quieter now, almost as though the speaker were trying to cajole a dangerous animal.

    *Look . . . I want to help!  What can I do?*

    Help?  He wanted to help?

    ¡°Help me?  You want to help me?!  What can you possibly do?!  CAN YOU TURN BACK TIME SO I¡¯M NOT A MURDERER?!¡±

    His warped form rose up once more, the long limbs lifting him so he was now directly facing the distant figure.

    ¡°THERE WAS NO HELP BEFORE!  THERE WAS NO HELP WHEN I . . . I . . .¡±

    He shied away from the memory, from the guilt it brought!  Instead, he focused on the one speaking to him, the other demigod.  The one like himself, but . . .

    ¡°WHY YOU?!  WHY YOU AND NOT ME?!  LOOK AT YOU, YOU¡¯VE GOT POWER!  YOU¡¯VE GOT LOOKS!  YOU¡¯VE GOT EVERYTHING YOU COULD WANT!  SO WHY AM I A MONSTER, AND YOU AREN¡¯T?!  WHAT MADE THE DIFFERENCE?!  WHY YOU AND NOT ME?!¡±

    The world was starting to disappear under the familiar red sheen of rage.  He welcomed it, letting it cover him like a blanket, a defence against the harshness of the world.  While he raged then there was no fear, no guilt, no despair, only red anger that smothered all.  Still, he kept shouting, even if he no longer thought about what he was saying.

    ¡°WHY YOU?  WHY NOT ME?!  WHY DO I HAVE TO SUFFER?!  WHY DO I HAVE TO HURT?!  WHY NOT YOU?!  WHY ME?!  I DIDN¡¯T DO ANYTHING WRONG!  I DIDN¡¯T DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE THIS!  SO WHY ME?!  I HATE YOU!  I HATE YOU! HATE YOU! HATE YOU! HATE HATE HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE!!!!!!!¡±

    Beneath him his twisted body surged once more, the thick and strong limbs shooting him into the air in a way no being as large as him should have been able to manage.  Etienne felt himself rising, saw the long tendrils of his monstrous form stretching out to grasp the winged figure, then saw them come up far too short to reach.  The next moment he was crashing down, but even though branches snapped beneath him and he saw at least one smaller tree break he felt nothing.  No pain, no injury, a fall that would have left a human a broken mess, and he felt nothing.

    Once.  Twice.  Three times his body leapt up, each time getting higher, but never really coming close.  After the final failed attempt the monster part of him must have realized the futility of its actions because it seemed to go into a sort of frustrated frenzy, lashing out at the trees and plants about it with vicious aggression.  Some clinical part of Etienne¡¯s mind was distantly interested in this reaction, given that his monstrous aspect had never really acted in any way other than to satiate its hunger.  This frustration . . . did it mean that there might actually be some sort of mind down there?

    Under other circumstances he might have found it intriguing, or horrifying, but right now . . .

    Trees came tumbling down.  Slim trunks that could only be a decade or two old, thick thorned bushes, even one massive trunk that had to be at least a century old, all of them were smashed down as the tentacles lashed out with a desire to destroy.  It was impressive, but it didn¡¯t reach him.  Instead, he felt the comforting anger starting to ebb, the fire burning itself out as he proved unable to reach the object of his frustration, and the wanton destruction doing little more than providing momentary venting.

    ¡°I . . . I wanted to be a hero,¡± Maybe he was tired, maybe his throat was just raw from all the shouting, but rather than a roar his words came out as more of a whimper. ¡°I wanted to be special, to save people, to be praised and . . . and . . .¡±

    He didn¡¯t even know why he was saying it.  Beneath him his body slumped, allowing gravity to pull it down to the ground once more.  For an instant, he wondered if his emotions were affecting his body¡¯s actions, or if it was the body¡¯s actions that were affecting his emotions.  The anger, the tension, it was running out of him like water from a punctured vessel.

    ¡°I wanted to be great!  I wanted to show Isabelle she was wrong.  I wanted to make my Dad proud. I . . . I wanted Tony to be jealous.  I wanted to be famous!  I wanted to be on TV, in the papers, on billboards!¡±

    The confession had been a babble, almost a rant, but it had lost steam as he¡¯d continued.

    ¡°Now . . . now look at me.  I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m just a monster living in the ruins in the woods!  I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m going to die here, aren¡¯t I?  Some . . . some monster out in the woods . . . they die, don¡¯t they?  The hero kills them, or another monster does.  Am . . . am I going to die like that?  Is . . . is that why you¡¯re here?¡±

    That made sense.  The far-off figure was beautiful, literally angelic with wings and a metal halo floating above him.  And Etienne was a monster, a murderer.  Didn¡¯t it make sense that the beautiful hero was here to destroy the evil monster?

    ¡°Do it!¡± He was surprised when the words came out of his mouth, but he was even more surprised that he actually meant them. ¡°Do it, kill me, kill the monster, make it end!¡±

    Some of his fire returned, enough that his body reared up once more.

    ¡°I never wanted this!  I never wanted to be a monster!  I NEVER WANTED TO BE A MURDERER!¡± He knew he was repeating himself, but he didn¡¯t care, he wanted the far-off figure to know that. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight.  I don¡¯t want to kill.  I . . . I just want this to . . . to end.¡±

    The strength went out of him again, but this time it felt worse than ever.  He¡¯d done it, he¡¯d really done it.  He¡¯d admitted it to someone else, he¡¯d admitted it to himself.  He wanted to die.  He wanted this . . . this nightmare to end before it got any worse.  Before the monster growing from him swallowed him up.  Before he lost every shred of what made him a person.  Before the hunger devoured him all the way, body and soul.

    Beneath him, the monstrous form moved again, but this time there was purpose to it.  The hunger had returned, and the body moved to appease it, but rather than simply charging after the nearest scent or taste there was direction that had never been there before.  In a few movements, he¡¯d returned to the remaining corpses, though most of the stronger ones had already been consumed.  Tentacles reached out, both the larger and stronger ones as well as the smaller manipulators.  In short order he was carrying more than a dozen of the corpses, holding them close to his body as the monster turned and slithered back into the trees.

    ¡°Try and kill me if you want, I don¡¯t care,¡± it was more of a mumble than anything else, but even so he was sure that the winged figure heard it. ¡°You can try, but I don¡¯t think the hunger¡¯ll let you.  It¡¯ll fight, it¡¯ll try and kill you, and eat you.  It¡¯s what it does.¡±

    As Etienne entered the woods he heard the voice in his head once more.

    *I . . . I want to help you.*

    It was a pretty thought, a nice thought, a nice dream, but really, at this point, Etienne was sure he was beyond help.

 Chapter 11: Words and Pain: Part Two

    It was strange.  Even though Etienne had definitely been speaking in French I had been able to understand him perfectly.  The words had come to me along the link, and the meaning behind the French words had been clear as crystal.  It was an interesting effect, one that made me idly wonder if this was something that would apply to other languages.

    This Etienne . . . I found him both pitiable and horrifying.  He was like a dark mirror, an example of everything that could go wrong with being a demigod.  I knew that there were gods out there that were monstrous, but I hadn¡¯t really considered how it might be for the children of such gods to come into their power.  Seeing him emotionally collapse right in front of me . . . it had been disturbing.  Fascinating in some grim way, like seeing a car crash happening right in front of you, but also repellent.  That despair, that bleak misery when he¡¯d said he wanted it to end.

    People weren¡¯t meant to experience that!

    Maybe it was childish, na?ve, or plain ignorant of the realities of the world, but I felt that people should be able to live their lives well.  There wasn¡¯t any need for some great extravagance, no need for mansions, sports cars, or ridiculous wealth.  A place to call home, decent food and water, safety and your loved ones near you, a content life.  It was modest, it was simple, and it would have been something I would have been happy with, and it was what everyone in the world should have a right to.

    Etienne had lost that.  Turning into this monster had left him without a home, without companionship, it had left him without hope.  All he could do was live out here and try to keep his hunger away from others.  In a way it was selfless, but it was clear that it was eating at him, just like his transformation.

    It just felt wrong.  This kind of suffering, this kind of isolation, it wasn¡¯t something someone should have to endure.

    The cheep of a bird was what brought me out of my increasingly dark thoughts, mainly because it startled me to hear it at all.  Up until now, the only animals I¡¯d heard in the area had been the twisted ones that attacked me, so as soon as heard the noise I immediately raised my shield in preparation for another attack.  I hung there, ready for anything, for a few moments, until I realized that the small sound had actually come from below me.

    It took me a few moments to locate the source of the cheeps, but I finally spotted a small bird that was pecking at the length of the tentacle that had been smashed off by my earlier collision.  I felt a smile touch my face at the sight, despite everything boiling around in my head.  All those monsters had been driving off the natural wildlife, so after they all died trying to get at me it made sense that the more ordinary animals would return.  Maybe this was a good sign, a sign that I was doing something ri-

    A loud squawk interrupted my thoughts, a sound that combined surprise and fear into a volume that such a small bird should not have been able to produce.  It was odd enough to draw my attention back to the small form.  What I saw there made my eyes widen in shock.

    The bird was on its side, the flesh beneath its feathers visibly shifting around even as those feathers seemed to shift in colour in violent ripples, brown and grey being replaced with red and black which then faded, only to return an instant later.  The small claws on its feet lengthened and thickened, becoming something closer to black talons.  And even from as far up in the sky as I was I could hear the faint snaps and pops of its skeleton shifting around under its flesh.  Every now and then it would let out another squawk or shriek, indicators that whatever transformation it was undergoing was far from painless.

    And through it all, it kept pecking at the tentacle, ripping out beakfuls of meat, swallowing them, then going back for more.  The only times it paused in its feasting was when it had to let out its cries of pain.

    Reaching out with my arcana telekinesis I gripped the small creature and pulled it up towards me.  The sounds it made as I pulled it away from the meat might have been heartrending under other circumstances, but with the dark blood dripping from its beak, and its whole form writhing as it changed, most of the effect was lost.  Instead, I tried to push my attention into the bird, trying to see if I could understand what was happening.

    As with the twisted animals before there was no resistance to my magic.  My arcana slipped into it without issue, and I could feel my magic wrapping around bones and organs with ease.  Had I been less busy I might have been a bit disturbed by the sheer control I had over the creature¡¯s life.  I might have felt unsettled by just how easily I could have snuffed it out if I wanted.  Instead, I found my attention squarely focused on the changes being wrought within the bird.

    It was dying, of that there was no doubt.  I could feel its brain practically cooking inside its skull, the internal temperature and the overfiring neurons all going crazy.  The same was true of its organs, which seemed to be melting and reforming like some mad science experiment.  This wasn¡¯t a metamorphosis, not an improvement or transition.  Rather, everything was being torn apart and broken down then being used as building material for something new.

    Even as I ¡®watched¡¯ the small bird, a creature that normally wouldn¡¯t feed on anything bigger than a spider or worm, was being recreated into a predatory parody of itself.  Sharpened claws and beak, feathers that were harder and more pointed, some sort of venom being leaked from its skin like sweat to coat those feathers, all of it was just . . . wrong.

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    A surge of disgust took me as I looked at the struggling beast.  It was now more a violent caricature of a bird than anything else, its form gaunt and stretched in an almost grotesque manner.  It occurred to me that by pulling it away from the meat it had been eating I might have denied it the resources it needed to fuel its change.  That might explain the skeletal appearance if it had to cannibalize itself to feed the alterations.

    There was a wet crunch as I closed my telekinetic grip, the stick-thin animal being reduced to an unrecognizable lump of blood and feathers.  After a moment¡¯s thought, I channelled mana and set the lump on fire, watching it burn out of the corner of my eye as I turned my attention back to the forest below.

    This . . . this was bad.  I¡¯d come here looking for the source of the warping of the local animals, and I was getting a sinking feeling that I now knew what that source was.  It wasn¡¯t sure of course, for all I knew these monsters could be made by any animal eating the corpse or remains of an already twisted creature.

    That was a logical notion, the problem was that I didn¡¯t really believe it.  Etienne had said he was a demigod, and I was sure he¡¯d been telling the truth.  The link that had let us talk had gone deep, and I could feel the sincerity in everything he¡¯d told me.  There had been bitterness, anguish, and so much anger at seemingly everything, but I hadn¡¯t felt any sort of attempt to conceal anything, or any reluctance to share.

    More than that, it was too much of a coincidence.  How likely was it for a demigod whose powers were clearly out of control to somehow end up in the same place where the local animals were being mutated into monstrous versions of themselves?  And on top of that, how likely was it that the same demigod would end up getting the same mutating effect and then passing it on?  If Etienne said that he¡¯d started to change after getting here then I might have credited it, but he¡¯d clearly said that the changes started before he had to flee here.

    Damnit, this was not looking good.

    Reaching into myself I pushed magic into the link, not as much as before, but enough to make it surge into clarity to my awareness.  Like before I could tell where the connection led, it was as clear as an arrow flashing in the direction of the monstrous demigod.  Finding him wasn¡¯t going to be a problem, the question was what I wanted to do once I did.

    I didn¡¯t want to kill him, not if I didn¡¯t have to.  Etienne didn¡¯t strike me as a bad guy, not someone who took pleasure in murder or cruelty.  There had been guilt in him, loads of it, along with despair and self-disgust.  He knew what was right and wrong, but he was being dragged along by his powers against his will.  He wasn¡¯t a monster, not really, rather he was a guy that had drawn the worst of the short straws with his divine blood.

    But . . . what could I do?  It was looking more and more like I might not have much of a choice.  Regardless of whether or not he was happy with his state, it didn¡¯t change the fact that he was powerful.  That meant that trying to subdue him might be impractical, at least with my level of power.  Either Hadriel or Joan would have been able to manage it, but even they might have some trouble pulling it off.  So far Etienne had taken everything I could throw at him and barely slowed down.  Hell, the most grievous injury I¡¯d been able to inflict had been by accident, and even then it had been healed so fast that it hadn¡¯t made much of a difference.

    That said, I could still think of a few things I could do, things that took me some time to set up, but which were more powerful than the attacks I could pull off at a moment¡¯s notice.  If I pushed them as hard as I could I was sure that even the monster Etienne was becoming wouldn¡¯t be able to just shrug them off.

    But that still left the question of what I wanted to do, or what I was even able to do.  I wanted to save Etienne, but I wasn¡¯t sure I had the means.  For a moment I considered trying to find the SOS artefact, since any effort would be greatly aided by either, or even both, of my protectors and teachers being with me, but a glance at the area where I thought I¡¯d lost it put paid to that idea.  The area was a mess, torn down bushes, fallen trees, and scattered corpses.  Both the brief fight and the monster¡¯s frustrated tantrum had covered the space in a mass of debris.  Even using telekinesis finding it was going to take ages especially if it had been pressed into the soil or mud.  I could spend hours and not find it at all.

    I could have just given up, abandoned the whole mission and just returned to the farmstead.  I had the link after all, and assuming that it didn¡¯t fade with time or distance it would make it easy for me to find Etienne again after I brought Joan and Hadriel with me.

    But I didn¡¯t want to!

    I didn¡¯t want to disappoint them.  I didn¡¯t want to let myself down!  I had no idea what I was going to be facing in the future, but I knew that it was going to be much worse than this.  Was I going to give up at the first hurdle?  Was I going to fly back to my protectors as soon as the going got tough?  If I did it this time, then would it be okay to do it the next time?  If I ran away now, then when was I going to stop?  When was I going to make a stand?

    On top of that was the desire not to kill another person.  Cursed and warped he might be, but my fellow demigod wasn¡¯t some mindless monster like those twisted animals.  No, he was a person, a hurt and broken person, but a person all the same.  Simply killing him as if he were a rabid beast felt so wrong.

    And there were the less noble reasons as well.  Fear on one hand, pride on the other.  There was even a bit of anger at the monster that had batted me around like an overgrown beachball.

    Both good and bad emotions came together into a strange mix that somehow hardened into a firm resolve.  I was going to do this, I was going to fight Etienne, and I was going to do my best to save him.

    Checking the connection again I saw that he was still moving, prompting me to slowly start to follow.  As I did so I extended my hands to the side, the fingers spread, and began to focus on drawing on my mana.  Above me, my halo seemed to give a soundless chime in response, and even my wings seemed to shiver briefly.  This was the most mana I¡¯d ever tried to draw upon in one go.  During practice, I¡¯d been more careful to take my time when gathering power, been careful not to push myself.  Even though I wasn¡¯t as powerful as I could be, not even when compared to ¡®proper¡¯ demigods, I still could do a lot of damage if I was careless.  The amount of power I could currently draw was greater than the amount I knew how to control, even with the aid of the halo, and that meant danger.

    Of course, I was going into a fight I knew I had to win, so if ever there was a time to push my limits then this was it.

 Chapter 12: Bleed for It: Part One

    Chapter 12: Bleed for It

    Etienne felt the stupor of dejection and misery settle over him like a heavy cloak.  In a way, it was almost comforting to hit absolute rock bottom, to no longer have anything to care about anymore.  There was a black peace to be found in it.  There was no more hope, no thought that things could ever get any better, but at the same time there was no fear of things getting worse.  Here, down in the muck and rotting filth that remained of his life, there was the security that he was as low as he could get.

    Around him the world moved, his monstrous form carrying him along once more.  He had no input in what was happening, no control over its actions, the hunger was in control.  However, it wasn¡¯t acting as it normally did, relentlessly pursuing the object of its appetite until it could be devoured.  Never had it acted with anything approaching intelligence or planning, only with violent relentlessness.  To see it doing something new might have been of interest to him before, but now he simply could not bring himself to care.  He¡¯d simply watched, his eyes feeling as dull as his soul, as the monster born of his flesh devoured the corpses it carried, even as it made its way deeper into the forest.

    It wasn¡¯t returning to the ruins that had served as his home for the last months, of that he was peripherally aware.  Instead, it was going to the heart of the woods where the oldest trees were.  He¡¯d been there before, having explored the forest back when he¡¯d been more in control of himself.  He¡¯d wanted to know the area if only so he knew where he could flee if people found him.  He remembered feeling . . . something there, something old and dark.  The monster that was a part of him had felt a resonance to the place, and that alone had been enough to scare him.

    The area he eventually came to rest in was a small clearing, barely large enough to fit his bulk.  About him were old trees, the great ones that reached high into the sky, the ones that had centuries of growth behind them.  Beneath him, the tentacles that moved his form relaxed settling his body onto the grass that filled the clearing.  Soon the corpses it had been carrying were being consumed one after another, adding to the ones that had already been gorged upon.

    Etienne felt it then, the familiar splitting as his skin grew too tight and the flesh beneath it bulged and swelled.  Even in his pit of depression he couldn¡¯t help but take some pleasure in the sensation, his body forcing him to feel satisfaction and even a sort of hollow joy at the experience.  He supposed that it was a basic biological reaction, one meant to motivate him to grow larger on his own as if what was happening to him was in any way natural.

    It was odd though, this time the ¡®moulting¡¯ felt different.  For a moment he felt just the slightest stirring of curiosity, but it was quickly smothered beneath apathy and despair.

    Like someone in the audience of a cinema, he watched with only vague attention as the last of the corpses was consumed.  His body then slithered over to the largest of the trees that surrounded the clearing, a huge oak that must have been centuries old.  His body was enormous now, akin to some multilimbed sea monster that dragged itself out of the waves, but even so the tree dwarfed him.  His limbs reached out, to do what he wasn¡¯t sure, but there was a sense of anticipation, as though something important was going to happen.  Even the hunger seemed to feel it, an eagerness that Etienne had never felt from it starting to build.

    Depression started to fade away, replaced by trepidation and growing fear.  He wasn¡¯t sure what this was, but he didn¡¯t like it.  It felt as though his body, his monstrous body, was getting ready for something.  Something that would make it stronger, make it grow.  And something in the remnants of the young man told him that if it did grow then it would grow right over him, sealing him in, digesting him, until there was nothing left of Etienne, only the monster would remain.  Only the hunger.

    So, when the fireball exploded in his face, some part of him was almost relieved.

    Most of him was shocked though, especially the monstrous part of him.  The fireball, even though he¡¯d only gotten a glimpse of it, had been about the size of a large watermelon, but when it hit the earth it had gone up in the sort of explosion that one normally only saw from detonating cars in action films.  There was a rush of scalding air, a thunderous roar, and a shockwave that actually pushed him back, the combination momentarily stunning him.

    As he tried to regain his senses his monstrous form reared back, shying away from the flames.  The motion caused the world to shake and shudder about Etienne as he was thrown around.  All the sudden movements, the attack, the sound, all of it was enough to jar him from his depression, ancient instincts momentarily trumping emotional exhaustion.

    What was happening?  What had-

    A second fireball came down like a meteor, slamming into the ground to his left with enough force to crater the earth as it sent up another explosion of fire and force.  This impact had been closer than the first, and Etienne felt the flesh of a tentacle sizzle as it burnt.  There was pain, but it was a distant pain, not really his own.

    Underneath him the maw of the monster opened, and a shrieking roar echoed forth, a cry of anger, pain and . . . fear?

    That, more than anything else, made the young man gather his thoughts once more.  Fear?  He honestly hadn¡¯t even believed the monster growing from him was capable of the emotion, but here it was.  It wasn¡¯t overwhelming, but it was there.  A hint of a smirk touched his lips as Etienne made the connection.  Fire, that was what had it scared, this was the first time the monstrous part of him had encountered fire.

    It made sense.  He¡¯d fled from his home as soon as the first hints of the hunger had begun to show themselves, terrified of what it might mean for his friends and family.  By the time it had started to grow into a being of its own, he¡¯d already been living out in the woods for more than a week.  Since he¡¯d felt no cold and had been afraid of attracting any attention, he¡¯d not used fire in those early days.  Afterwards, when the monster began to take over, he no longer had the freedom to even try it.

    So . . . it didn¡¯t like fire.  Well, he had no idea how he could use it, but it was at least worth knowing.

    A third fireball came down, this one even larger than the previous two, and struck the tail of the monster.  Another shriek of surprise and pain split the silence of the forest as his body spun around, instinctively seeking an attacker that wasn¡¯t there, only to be struck again, this time in the side.

    Dozens of the smaller tendrils were seared off now, and even some of the larger tentacles had been crippled.  He could feel their pain, though it was far-off, as though he were looking at something through dirty glass.  He could also feel the growing confusion and frustration of the hunger, strange as it was.  It was as though with every moment that passed, what had once just been an overwhelming impulse was growing more complex, more aware.

    And right now, it was getting angry.

    Another fireball came down, but this time the monster wasn¡¯t taken by surprise.  Instead, it twisted, swatting at the projectile with one tentacle, sacrificing the limb to send the attack off course.  As it turned it let him see where the assault was coming from.

    Truthfully, he wasn¡¯t sure how he had missed it until now.  He supposed that his earlier stupor of depression might have had something to do with it, but even so . . .

    Hovering in the sky was the winged figure from before, but he wasn¡¯t up there on his own.  Floating above him was a huge sphere of fire, one so large it could have easily held a pair of cars inside it.  Seeing it Etienne couldn¡¯t help but blink in surprise, wondering how the winged man could be so close to it and not burn.

    *Just hold on, Etienne!  I think I can do this!*

    The message in his mind came as a surprise since he really hadn¡¯t been expecting to experience it again.  But his thoughts on that were scattered as another fireball came down.  Then another, and another.

    As the area around him seemed to explode with all the force of a small war Etienne felt his body moving, each sinuous motion so swift he could barely keep track.  Some part of him noticed that the huge globe of fire was shrinking with each shot, but that was a distant concern.  Instead, the young Frenchman was consumed by the rush of motion as his monster dragged him along.

    Despite the veritable rain of fireballs, he was somehow managing to avoid direct hits.  Skin was seared and limbs were lost, but it wasn¡¯t enough!  The monster he was a part of would not stop, would not let itself be stopped!  He could feel skin regrowing, and limbs starting to regenerate.  He didn¡¯t know the limits of his monstrous form¡¯s ability to heal, since it had never been truly tested before, but he was willing to bet that the winged figure would run out of fire before his body ran out of regeneration.

    Not that it would make much difference.  So long as the winged man stayed up there, out of reach, there was nothing that his monster could do to reach him.  Idly Etienne noted that if his warped monster body really wanted to attack the far-off foe then it should try throwing some rocks or trees at him.  Not that such was likely, the creature that had grown out of him was far too-

    The young man¡¯s thoughts were cut off as a tentacle shot out, curled around a rock as large as a man¡¯s torso, and with a whip-like snap of the flexible limb sent it careening through the air with all the force of a cannonball freshly fired!  The figure was able to dodge it, but only narrowly.  Any hesitation, any mistake, would have left him shot from the sky since the figure didn¡¯t seem to have had one of his protective shields up.

    For Etienne, it was enough of a shock that his still sluggish mind finally snapped back into focus.  For a moment all he could do was stare as more tendrils seized debris and hurled it upwards, rocks, wooden logs, even clumps of dirt, anything they could grab.  Then reality slammed back into him.

    Had . . . had the monstrous part of him . . . taken his idea?  Had it heard what he was thinking and somehow learned from it?  even though his heart was more than half sunken into the mass of flesh beneath him he still felt it skip a beat.  That thought was terrifying to him, the idea that this thing growing from him was not only swallowing up his body but also his thoughts . . .  Somehow it was even worse than the idea of his flesh being absorbed.  It was like this thing didn¡¯t just want to kill him, it wanted to take everything from him, his body, his mind, even his soul!

    Then another thought occurred to him, one that was chilling in its own way.  The monster that had grown from him had been horrifying when it had simply been a veritable incarnation of hunger.  It hadn¡¯t thought, it hadn¡¯t relented, and it hadn¡¯t shown mercy.  All it had done was satiate its appetite in the simplest and most brutal way available to it.  But . . . just now, it had used his thought to overcome a problem.  Had it been able to think?  Or had it just taken his thought once he came up with a basic solution?  Either was frightening, but not as much so as the notion of that remorseless devourer managing to actually think in the pursuit of its next meal.

    Further contemplation of the kind of horror the hunger could do with the ability to plan and improvise was cut off as the winged figure retaliated, launching another fireball.  This one was larger than any of the previous ones, nearly cutting the size of the floating flame sphere in half to make it.  Again, his body was able to avoid it, but the blast of heat and force was enormous, enough to throw his monstrous from through the air and send it crashing to the ground.

    Again, there was pain, but it was dull and distant still, the pain of his monster, not of himself.  Even so, Etienne once again found himself marvelling at the sheer resilience and tenacity of the beast that he was a part of.  The force of that impact would have reduced any normal being of flesh and blood to a broken pulp.  The heat of it was enough to strip away skin and lay bone and muscle burnt and bare to the air.  But despite horrific wounds, the monster still rose again, flesh wriggling and seething as it repaired and regenerated.

    Then the second huge fireball slammed into him.

    For the first time, Etienne felt the impact. He, himself, felt it.  It wasn¡¯t the monster.  It wasn¡¯t some distant sensation filtered through the blurred connection with the beast consuming him.  He felt it in the remains of his own bones, felt his eyes water and his ears ring.  His thoughts were scattered as he felt something impact the side of his head.  He tasted blood in his mouth, and the world swam around him, a confused jumble of sights and sounds that he couldn¡¯t comprehend.

    *Okay, this might hurt, but . . . but trust me, okay?*

    He vaguely understood the message being sent to him, but his mind wasn¡¯t able to grasp it,

    There was a flash of white, and then the world dissolved into searing hot lines of pain, and all he could do was scream.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I did all I could to ignore the throbbing pain in my temples, but it was no easy task.

    I¡¯d pushed myself harder than I ever had before!  It was something to be proud of, breaking a limit, and improving myself, but it hadn¡¯t been safe either.  This was something that I¡¯d been planning to work on before this whole ¡®quest¡¯ thing was dropped on me, back when I thought I still had just under a week to practice with.  I¡¯d known I was going to need some tricks that had more raw power than what my arcana telekinesis could bring to bear.  It had the advantage of control and flexibility, but my sparring sessions with my guardians had shown me that sometimes pure destructive power was what was called for.

    That had been where this idea came from, the notion of raw firepower.

    At first, I¡¯d thought of using lightning, but I soon realised I wasn¡¯t ready for that yet.  Electricity was too wild, too volatile.  It wanted release, it wanted to touch and flow and spread, and it wanted to do it in an instant.  I¡¯d taken several nasty shocks before I accepted that with my current level of control it wasn¡¯t a viable option.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    So, after accepting my limitations with lightning I turned to fire.

    Fire was just as dangerous, but its nature felt a bit more obedient.  It was biddable, but not slavish.  It felt old, and it made me think of humanity''s ancient ancestors hiding in caves and huddling around small campfires.  As far as the more ethereal elements went, like electricity, light and shadow, fire was the very first that mankind was able to truly harness.  It had been the very basis for all technological development, the companion that lifted humanity out of the mud and into the future rulers of the world, so it made sense that there was some sort of connection there.

    That was probably why I¡¯d thought that I could pull this off, even though I felt I lacked the experience to control so much of an element.  Fire was responsive, enough for my purposes.

    I¡¯d first thought to use it directly, but the time it took to build it up was impractical.  Both Hadriel and Joan had taught me that in a fight slowness or predictability were liabilities.

    So, I¡¯d come up with the idea of it being more useful if I prepped before the fight.  I could store fire in a sphere and make it refined and concentrated so I had a ready reserve of potent power.  I hoped that eventually I could create a huge reserve, bring it into battle, and then freely unleash bursts of its power as a sort of magical artillery piece.

    I just hadn¡¯t actually tried it yet.

    I hadn¡¯t really planned to make the one I had so huge, when I¡¯d started I¡¯d only intended to get it to the size of a basketball, maybe a beachball, if I thought I could handle it.  But as I¡¯d made it, I kept on thinking about the way I¡¯d been all but helpless when Etienne attacked me.  Of how the most damage I¡¯d been able to inflict had been by pure accident.

    So, I kept up the flow of fire, and the globe was already larger than I¡¯d planned, larger than any of my previous attempts!  And as it grew I realized that a sharp pain was starting to grow behind my eyes along with it.

    At that point, I should probably have stopped, since pains in the brain are a good hint that something isn¡¯t right.  However, I could feel the power I had collected in the globe, and it was huge!  It was more powerful than anything I¡¯d ever used.

    Below me, Etienne had been moving through the trees swiftly and smoothy, despite being so huge.  The way he moved reminded me of some sort of sea creature, one that moved over the sands of the sea bottom with liquid grace.  Following him wasn¡¯t a problem though, even if I was building the sphere up, I just flew along in the correct general direction.

    That was why I decided to do something . . . risky.

    I didn¡¯t stop the flow of energy, instead I increased it!  I felt the pain in my head spike, but at the same time, I felt the power in the globe grow, even as the sphere itself grew in size.

    I just kept going, even as my target moved beneath me, even as my pain grew, I kept on empowering the globe, feeling a mad grin spread across my face as it swelled in power.  By the time Etienne came to a stop the sphere of flame had grown large enough to swallow up a small car, and I could feel the power within.  As he started to swallow the corpses he¡¯d been carrying I continued to feed more burning red into the globe.  More.  More!  MORE!

    The pain in my skull was intense but just manageable.  Sure, I felt as though a dull ice-pick was being slowly driven into my skull, but at the same time, it felt . . . unimportant, as though it was a dull and irritating complaint rather than the screaming warning it should have been.  I¡¯d fallen into a sort of semi-trance, so focused on my efforts that I was watching the twisted demigod beneath me without really seeing him anymore.

    Then I saw something happen that forced my attention back to the monster below.

    After it had finished consuming the corpses it had dragged here, the serpentine length of its body, which was bloated and taunt, began to heave and contort, the muscles beneath its hide jumping and warping.  I¡¯d seen it without really registering it, without caring, but then the back of the creature split open, just behind where Etienne was fused to its body.

    Wings, that was what was emerging from the monster¡¯s back.  They weren¡¯t feathered, like my own, rather they were a strange combination of those of a dragonfly and those of a dragon.  Bones and muscle seemed to make up the framework of the wing, but where the leather-like membrane would have been for a dragon there was instead the fine and translucent film of a dragonfly.  The film was still limp, crumpled from where it had emerged from the split flesh.  But even as I watched I could see them gaining colour as blood flowed into them, I could see them straightening as their internal pressure rose.

    It was right then and there that I realized waiting was no longer an option.  If I gave the monster growing from Etienne¡¯s flesh even a few more minutes, then that was all it would need to be able to take to the skies.  It shouldn¡¯t be able to, even wings that big shouldn¡¯t have let such a huge bulk fly.  However, its flesh shouldn¡¯t be able to heal as fast as it did, it should not be able to regenerate lost limbs like it did, but it didn¡¯t care.  It gaining flight and me losing my greatest advantage looked all too possible.

    Waiting wasn¡¯t an option, I had to act fast!  I sent a message along the link without really thinking about it, some sort of assurance that I¡¯d do the best I could to help him, but I wasn¡¯t really paying it too much mind.  Instead, I was focused on what I had to do.

    The first wave of attacks was done using the condensed fireball.  First, I used multiple smaller attacks to inflict burns and injuries to hurt those wings and tie up its healing.  Then, I moved onto larger attacks to wreck the wings, sever larger limbs and disorient the creature.  After that, I dumped the remaining energy into a final series of big blasts, ones that I¡¯d hoped would manage to immobilize it, either through damage or simply by stunning it.

    Things had gone well, despite having stuff thrown at me like missiles.  That had been a shock but I kept going.  By then I¡¯d used up enough of the globes fire that the pressure on me had been reduced enough that I could dodge the first volley.  Then I¡¯d retaliated, this time with a single larger fireball.  It drained the globe to nearly half its remaining size, but the impact on the monster was brutal.  It was a miss, but the explosion sent it skidding backwards, limbs flailing as it tried to find purchase.

    That in itself was daunting, a reminder of the kind of power I was throwing around.  Etienne¡¯s monstrous form was huge, bigger than two or three elephants combined, but the force of the blast had still sent him careening across the clearing.  I paused for a moment, trying to make sure that Etienne wasn¡¯t severely hurt.  However, the burnt flesh was already wriggling, regrowing, filling the burns like water flowing into an empty vessel.

    That was all I needed to convince me to go through with my plan.  It wasn¡¯t going to be pleasant for him, but I hoped that his regeneration meant that he could take it.

    So, I released all the remaining fire in one attack!

    It seemed to be the first time that I¡¯d actually managed to hurt the huge creature.  The blast caught the monster on its side and hit with enough force to blast a crater into its flesh, bones and innards being revealed through the charred meat even as its back was slammed into the trees that grew at the edge of the clearing.  For a moment it just hung there, then gravity reclaimed its hold, and the colossal form fell onto its belly, the underbrush being crushed by its weight.

    I saw it trying to move, but its movements were sluggish and uncoordinated.  It was hurt, hurt enough to be stunned, hurt enough to be vulnerable!

    I dove, pushing myself to move as fast as I could!  The sudden shift from having been held in place by the flame globe to suddenly darting down like a hunting hawk was almost disorienting, but I remained fixed on my target, the human form now more than half-submerged in the creature¡¯s flesh.  I landed, my shoes denting the flesh beneath me, almost slipping, then rising as I decided to hover just above the back of the monster rather than trust to keep my balance on it if it moved.  I took a moment to orient myself, getting just behind the sinking figure of Etienne, and sent a message along the link, feeling he should have at least some reassurances about what I was going to try.

    *Okay, this might hurt, but . . . but trust me, okay?*

    Bile rose up in my throat as my feathers cut into the flesh around the half-submerged figure.

    This . . . this was more than I could ever have imagined.  So far, I¡¯d used them in my spars with Joan and Hadriel.  I¡¯d used them to cut wood and stones, I¡¯d even tested them out against metal, just to see how they compared.  The sensations had always been strange, hard to get a grip on.  My wings had plenty of nerves in them, enough that I could feel the wind moving through them, and know how to shift them about to be more comfortable.  I felt it when the sword-like feathers hit something, or cut something.  And this . . .

    ¡°YYYGGGHH<u>HHA</u><u>AAA</u>AAA!!¡±

    The scream didn¡¯t sound human, even though it came from Etienne¡¯s human mouth.  It echoed through the trees, reverberating around the clearing, somehow managing to rise above the earth-shaking roar that came from the maw beneath him.

    Gritting my teeth against both the deafening sounds and the thick warm sensation of my feathers slicing through flesh I pressed on.

    The first cuts went down and under, moving diagonally so they¡¯d meet up beneath him.  At its most basic it was similar to how one would cut a chunk of bad flesh out of an otherwise good fruit.  It was something I¡¯d done hundreds of times over the years, the action simply vastly scaled up.  I kept telling myself that as I pressed on, it was just a bigger version of something familiar.  That was all, I mustn¡¯t think of it as anything else.

    My wings drew back, the white feathers stained with the dark red blood and gore now dripping from them.  For just a moment I hesitated, then thrust them down again as I shifted position.

    Another scream rent the air, but I closed myself to it!  This . . . I knew it was cruel, I knew that it hurt, but I couldn¡¯t think of anything else that might have a chance to work!  Underneath me, I could feel the monster trying to move, to fight back, to dislodge me, but the last attack had been severe enough that it had yet to recover.

    More blood gushed oy, a tide of it.  For a moment I flinched back as it washed over my shoes, but I pressed on.  I focused on keeping myself locked in place as the muscles in my wings strained, driving the bladed feathers in deeper, then cutting sideways, struggling to meet up with the other cuts.

    *Just a bit more!  Just a bit more and I can save you!  Please, just hold on, Etienne!*

    I sent the thought out along the link, speaking to both the demigod beneath me and to myself.  I had to believe it, it had to be right.  Just a bit more, that was all, just a bit more and-

    I felt it as flesh gave!  YES!  One of the cuts had met up with another, forming three sides of a square.  All I needed was one more!  My right wing flexed as I dragged it sideways, redoubling my efforts!  Just a bit more! Just a bit more! Just a bit-

    The last corner connected, and both Etienne and his monster let out shrieks of pain.  For a moment the world seemed to swim, and I swore I could feel a tiny trickle of something making its way from my ear, but I refused to allow it to distract me!

    My head still hurt, it hurt a lot!  But I wasn¡¯t letting it stop me, not now!  Reaching out, I wrapped my telekinesis around Etienne and the mass of flesh he was attached to and pulled.  There was the resistance to my magic again, but this time I wasn¡¯t trying to cut through it. The flesh had been severed already, all I was trying to do was pull it free.

    Those cuts had been diagonal, making a sort of upside-down pyramid into the flesh, but even as large as the bladed feathers on my wings had been they weren¡¯t long enough to reach all the way through.  The ¡®pyramid¡¯ I¡¯d been carving was incomplete, the third of its length reaching for the ¡®tip¡¯ remaining uncut.  The rest was complete, but the mass of flesh to which the demigod was fused could not be removed without dealing with that last connection.

    So, I was going with the most expedient approach and just trying to rip it out with pure brute force.

    It wasn¡¯t quite as reckless as I may sound.  My earlier slashes had already severed the great majority of the connections keeping the flesh in place, leaving only a minor portion uncut.  I had leverage on my side, and a far larger surface area to grip.  Add in the raw strength of my TK, and I felt I had a pretty good chance at pulling this off.

    It had literally only been a few seconds since I landed on the monster¡¯s back, even though it had felt like an eternity.  The first cuts had taken a second or two, and even the more resistant flesh had given after only a few moments.  As my telekinesis got its grip, I was counting off the seconds in my head, trying to figure out how much longer I had.  I¡¯d done a lot of damage, but the monster born of the demigod¡¯s flesh healed absurdly fast.  How long would it remain stunned, especially with the pain I was inflicting upon it?

    I pulled, and I could feel the great chunk of muscle and blood shift.  There was resistance, but I could feel something starting to tear, starting to give!  Etienne moaned, and for a moment I wondered if this was going to kill him.  Cutting him out of the beast like this . . . could he survive it?  was I going to pull him out only for him to bleed to death on me?  The only reason I thought that this might work was that I¡¯d already seen his human body display a similar healing ability to his monstrous self.  During the first fight, I saw a flying bit of wood cut into his cheek, a deep cut that had drawn blood, yet only a few seconds later the cut was gone and I¡¯d taken note of it.

    He could survive, that was what I kept telling myself.  He¡¯d survive long enough for me to get him to Joan or Hadriel, and then . . . then I wasn¡¯t too sure what could happen, but it had to be better than leaving him here!  Maybe they could heal him, maybe they¡¯d say he had to die, either way, it was better than letting him just get swallowed up by that thing that had been growing out of him.

    More, MORE!

    I kept pulling, feeling flesh at the base starting to give.  It was tough, very tough, and it felt as though there were dozens of different connections that each had to be individually broken before they would tear, but it was giving way to my TK.  I felt another break, then another, and another.  There weren¡¯t many left!  Just a bit more!  Just a bit-

    The blow came out of nowhere!  Fortunately, even as focused as I was on tearing the flesh free, I¡¯d still kept a shield up, but it wasn¡¯t enough.  One second, I was standing there, my halo humming with power as I did my best to pull Etienne free, the next I was flying through the air, my head ringing and my shield cracked.  I ploughed into the ground in a way that was all too familiar from my training.  The difference was that they¡¯d never hit me this hard, not even Hadriel, and she tended to hold back as little as possible.  That blow . . . if I hadn¡¯t had my defence up . . .

    My disordered thoughts suddenly sprang back to full alertness as I saw the massive form before me move, the action almost fluid as dozens of limbs great and small moved together to aid the motion.  Above it I could see the chunk of flesh that I¡¯d been trying to pull free, sticking out above it like some sort of cancerous growth.  There was a silent moment, as the monster turned to face me and then paused, confusing me.  Then I saw what was happening.

    Vein-like threads burst out of its skin around the area I had sliced up, dozens, then hundreds of tiny tendrils shooting up, digging into the severed meat and finding purchase.  As I watched the veins drew tight, and pulled the mass of flesh back into place, the wounds closing up as though they were being zipped closed by an impatient hand.

    ¡°Hah . . . hah hah . . .¡± The voice came from Etienne himself, though this time it lacked the inhuman volume it had used before, though it still carried regardless. ¡°Hah, hah ha . . . hah hah ha ha ha haaa!¡±

    He broke down into hysterical laughter, and ¡®broken¡¯ was the only word I could think to describe it.  This wasn¡¯t the mirth of joy or humour, rather it was brittle as broken glass, the laughter of someone standing on the edge of madness and getting ready to fall.  In a way, it was even worse than the near-incoherent words he¡¯d howled at me when he first attacked me in his berserk state.

    ¡°That . . . heh heh . . . that was close,¡± The words dripped with something, something both ugly and pitiful. ¡°I . . . you know . . . for a moment there I really thought . . . I really thought that you might do it.  Free me, kill me, either one . . .¡±

    He was speaking in French, but I could still understand him.  Maybe it was because of the earlier link, maybe it was because the link was still working even if I wasn¡¯t paying it any attention.  Whatever it was, I could understand him, but in a way, I wished I couldn¡¯t.  If I couldn¡¯t make out his words it would have been easier, I wouldn¡¯t have felt guilt at failing him.  I wouldn¡¯t have had to hear him and understand.

    ¡°I . . . I guess I¡¯m stuck like this, right? I . . . I¡¯m not going to get out of this, I¡¯m just going to be stuck here until . . . until this thing eats me!¡±

    Despite the distance separating us, I could still see it as his head, which had been bowed before, came up and his eyes met mine.  I found myself startled by those eyes, even as far away as they were I could see they were almost startlingly green, though the whites were so shot through with livid red that it made a sharp contrast.

    ¡°It¡¯s hungry, you know?  So hungry . . .  I . . . I don¡¯t think it can be satisfied, not really.  It just wants to eat, and eat, and eat until there¡¯s nothing left, and then it¡¯ll just go somewhere else and eat what¡¯s there!¡±

    Those eyes were getting wild now, both anger and despair bleeding into them as they stared down at me.

    ¡°Why?!  Why¡¯d you have to come?!  I . . . I could have slept, kept it quiet, kept it hidden!  But . . . but then you had to come, and . . . and you smelt so good that you made me hungry!  Why?!  Why¡¯d you make me hungry?!  Why¡¯d you have to come?!  Why couldn¡¯t you leave me alone?!?!?!¡±

    I noted how his voice was changing, growing louder and more inhuman as he went on.  More than that, I noted how partway through he stopped referring to ¡®it¡¯ and began to talk about ¡®me¡¯ being hungry.  That was bad, I might not know too much about the situation, but I knew that it was bad news!

    Then he was charging at me, and I didn¡¯t have time to think of anything!

 Chapter 12: Bleed for It: Part Two

    Etienne knew he should be feeling despair, that he should be panicking, that he should be afraid!  He could feel himself . . . breaking, crumbling away as his human body sank bit by bit further into the mass of the monster that had grown from him.  It was already up to his elbows, and though it was slow it was still faster than it had ever been before.

    He should have been desperate for rescue!  For escape!  For even a hint of hope!

    He should have been terrified!

    Instead, there was only a sort of giddy exhilaration that seemed to be sweeping over him, numbing his emotions, burying all his despair and apathy.  His anger, his frustration remained, but it was all directed outwards, no longer turned internally, and even then, it was a languid, almost sluggish thing.

    Maybe this was how it felt to take drugs, some small part of him wondered.  Being able to all but ignore the world around him and simply enjoy letting his misery go.  Inflicting it upon the world rather than himself.

    He could see himself moving, see the monster that had grown from him attacking the winged figure, but it failed to connect to him, to stir any sort of emotional response.

    Was this disconnection due to the monster?  Some corner of his mind that was unaffected was screaming at him, shrieking that this, his feelings, his emotions, all of it, was all just something to keep him docile.  Whatever change the monster was undergoing, part of it was pumping something into Etienne that was lulling him into an unresisting stupor so he could be easily absorbed.  He could see it, could hear his reason working it out, but just as before it didn¡¯t seem to reach him.

    Instead, all he did was watch.  Watch as his monster surged forward, almost entirely healed as its arms lashed out at the winged demigod that had dared to attack it.

    The first blow was blocked by that shield.  So was the second, and the third.  However. the fourth blow left cracks snaking across the protection, and the fifth caused it to shatter!  Shards of clear energy scattered into the air and then dissolved into nothing, but the beast that had grown from his flesh paid it no mind.  It just continued to lash out, though no longer with the wide and wild swings it had been using before.  Now the thick tentacles came in like darting snakes, the claws on their ends aiming to stab and skewer like spears.

    The demigod moved, his speed impressive but he only just managed to avoid the attacks.  He was being driven back, the savage attacks kept him pinned, unable to take to the skies again, not unless he was willing to be stabbed in the attempt.  Etienne blinked slowly as he realized that was an idea he¡¯d had, a way to keep the winged figure from regaining the air.  It had been taken, stolen, devoured.  Again, he knew he should have felt fear or outrage, but there was none.

    The other demigod was now backed up against a tree.  Not a bad move, Etienne thought dully, with the thick tree behind him he couldn¡¯t retreat anymore, and if he tried to go up then the thick leaves and branches would slow him down enough that the tentacles could get him.  Was it checkmate?  Had the monster used his ideas to trap its prey?

    The French demigod felt the body beneath him rear up, the muscles under its hide bunching in preparation.  Then he was moving, the massive form he was a part of striking so fast that Etienne could feel the wind whistling by around him.  He could feel the maw of the beast opening wide, and smell the rancid scent of its mouth.  To either side all its tendrils, both the larger combat ones and the smaller and more delicate ones, flared out, ready to catch the winged figure no matter which direction it tried to dodge in.

    He wondered what would happen after the other demigod was eaten.  Would the hunger be satisfied?  Would the magic that practically dripped from the winged figure be enough to satiate its craving?  And if it was, what would it mean for Etienne?  Would the monster go back to sleep after it had eaten?  Or . . . or would it do more?  After devouring the magic of the other demigod would it start to change more?  Would it start to consume the man it had been born from even faster?

    Did he even care at this point?

    The young Frenchman¡¯s flood of questions was cut off by an explosive crack as an eruption of roots and soil burst up in between the monster and the demigod.  He just had time to blink in surprise before the beast he was a part of careened into a spike-like boulder the size of a car!  There was a terrific impact, the loud crunch of something breaking, and even through his haze of indifference he could still feel the pain that erupted from the maw of his monster.

    It took him a moment to understand what had happened, and even in his near stupor he could still feel a trace of amusement.

    The monster he was a part of was huge and had plenty of mass backing it up, but even so, it was still flesh and blood.  The portion of the boulder that had come out of the earth must have weighed tonnes, and there had to be even more of it still under the ground.  As such when the gaping maw, open and ready to devour the winged demigod, slammed into it the result had been much akin to a car smashing into a large tree.  The sharp point of the boulder had torn through the left side of the beast¡¯s gaping mouth, ripping out teeth, muscles and bone as it did so.  Blood and drool flew about as the monster born from his flesh thrashed, trying to free itself, but momentarily caught.

    A second loud crack drew Etienne¡¯s attention back from his drifting thoughts.  This time the sound was different from the sound of emerging stone, instead it sounded more glass-like.

    Blinking he saw that, once again, shards of colourless energy sparkled in the air around the winged demigod before fading away.  Then there was a blur of motion, black and white clashing too fast for him to see it clearly.  The fog around his mind seemed to . . . shift slightly, not letting him go, not growing thinner, but maybe opening just a bit.  He could feel his thoughts getting just a bit sharper.  He still felt muzzy, disconnected even, but his mind no longer felt so slow.

    The blur came again, but this time he was able to understand what it was.  The monster was free of the stone spike now, even though he could still feel pain radiating from one side of its jaw and had reared up once more.  From his position above its mouth, the French demigod could see the clash before him.

    The winged figure was still grounded, but he wasn¡¯t helpless.  Once again, his shield had been shattered, but that didn¡¯t mean he was helpless.  The boulder between the monster and its prey was making some of its blows on one side awkward, though they remained strong.  It did make them slower though, enough that their target was able to dodge them.

    That still left him with the tendrils on the other side, but he was managing to fend them off.  Even as divorced from the situation as he was Etienne couldn¡¯t help feeling a tiny spark of interest flare up at the sight.  Rather than fighting with fire or magic the winged figure was using his feathered limbs themselves as both weapons and shields.  Even as he hovered in the air he was able to bat aside blows and retaliated with the sword-like feathers on his wings.  These retaliatory strikes weren¡¯t able to completely sever the tentacles they hit, but they were able to hurt them, even if the wounds quickly healed.  Etienne could feel the echoes of the pain, and feel a growing frustration from the monster he was a part of.

    The hunger was being denied, and deep beneath the overwhelming need to devour and consume, there was something that might be thought, something that realized it was being delayed.  Something that could hate the existence of that delay!

    The shift in the battle came so quickly that Etienne almost missed it.  There was another blur of motion, a loud crack, and a scream of pain, then the other demigod was crashing to the side, bouncing off a tree before tumbling into the underbrush.

    In his mind¡¯s eye, the young Frenchman saw it happen again, his thoughts catching up to his senses.  The tentacle had come in faster, harder than before, but just before impact, it had stopped.  This abrupt arresting of its momentum had caused the end of it to crack like the largest and most vicious bullwhip ever.  There had been no skill to the blow, just power, but in the end, it had been enough.

    A wing that had been coming up to defend against a blow buckled beneath the sudden force, the crack of bone was easily heard as one of the longer bones just snapped, unable to stand up to the immense pressure so suddenly placed upon it.  The demigod¡¯s face had paled with pain, but even as a cry of pain burst free from his mouth another blow was coming at him, and this time there was nothing to block it!

    The world snapped back into focus as his monstrous self surged around, the muscles in its main body working with its multitude of smaller tendrils to make the movement unnaturally sinuous. Even though its target had been thrown off to the side it was quickly able to reorient upon it.  There was a moment where it paused, and Etienne could feel something in its mouth cracking back into place as it finished healing, then it surged forward again.

    However, this time its charge wasn¡¯t met by a rock, rather it collided with a fireball!

    It wasn¡¯t as large as the last one Etienne¡¯s monster had been hit by, but it was still potent.  Strong enough to halt the beast¡¯s charge.  Strong enough to hurt it.  The French demigod again felt pain and smelled the scent of burning flesh.  Still, it wasn¡¯t enough.  A snarl echoed forth as the monster reared up again, the burns upon it already healing . . . only to be met by a crackling fork of yellow lightning!

    Etienne felt that one, felt the jolt run through him, felt his muscles lock up, only to be followed by pain a moment later.  His chest felt tight, and for a moment he wondered if he was having a heart attack, then the feeling receded, washed away by the fever-hot warmth of his healing.

    As he blinked his eyes, trying to recover from the shock, he became aware of a noise echoing through the clearing.  It was . . . strange, out of place.  It sounded like the ring of a tuning fork, a single note that went on and on.  But rather than fading away, it was growing louder and louder.

    Then an icicle the size of an infantry spear pierced through one of his tentacles, almost completely severing it, and the sound was unimportant.

    The attacks kept on coming, fireballs, icicles, cutting wind, stone cannonballs, lightning, and even beams of searing light!  It was only one at a time, but as the strange note grew louder they came faster and faster.  Blood flowed from dozens of wounds now, and the pain was no longer just a distant echo, now he was feeling the pain himself.  The attacks were wilder than before, less accurate, and some of the cutting wind had left a gash along his shoulder, and though it was healing as fast as the monster the spike of agony it sent through his body had been his own.

    The lassitude that had been all but drowning him before was burning away now.  Emotion was starting to take a grip on him again.  These weren¡¯t his emotions though, at least not entirely, the anger might be his, but his anger wasn¡¯t directed at the other demigod as this was.  He was angry at the situation, at the world, at whatever god-forsaken trick of fate had left him as this monster where so many others had become heroes out of storybooks.  However, that anger was getting swept up in the rage of his other self, the monster that was part of him and yet not him.  It raged, and so did he!

    He advanced, even as the flesh was burnt from his bones, even as his muscles spasmed tore from electrical shocks, even as ice and stone rained down, he advanced!  Like a soldier forcing himself forward through the winds of a gale, he advanced.  Like a beast from the depths of the ocean fighting against a fierce current, he advanced.  Like a madman charging into the ranks of his foes, he advanced!

    It was difficult.  Large as his monster was, the attacks being rained down upon him were powerful.  They would have been enough to blast him back had they caught him unprepared.  Instead, his tentacles stabbed into the earth to act as anchors or wrapped around nearby trees, anything to help him push through the onslaught.  Thinking of it as a wind was surprisingly accurate, but this was a wind that was tearing away at him, cutting, crushing, piercing and burning him, even as it tried to push him back.

    He felt his lips curl, and he imagined that a manic smile might well be splitting his face.   Pain . . . what did it matter?  He was already healing, he always healed, didn¡¯t he?  And as he healed . . . wasn¡¯t he getting stronger?  Wasn¡¯t he getting tougher?  Before this kind of assault would have hurt more, that rain of fireballs had been weaker, but it had hurt more.  But now, now that he¡¯d healed up, wasn¡¯t he tougher?  Wasn¡¯t he stronger?

    The note grew louder, and the attacks grew fiercer, but it didn¡¯t matter.  Anger and a sort of drunk exhilaration, that was all that filled his mind.  The pain was there, but it had fallen to the wayside, something that no longer held meaning, that no longer held power over him.

    Another searing fork of lightning hit him, this one blue rather than yellow.

    Not enough.

    A huge misshapen hailstone of ice, easily the size of a basketball smashed down on his side with crushing force.

    Not enough.

    A lance of stone, as long as a streetlight and thick as a battering ram speared up at him from below, stabbing up through the serpentine body behind him.

    Not enough!

    A torrent of fire roared out at him, striking at the now closed maw, pressing against it with an almost physical force, more flesh burning, more hide being seared away.

    Not!  Enough!

    The wind assailed him, hundreds of invisible blades cutting at his tendrils, his hide, his human skin, one even slicing into one of his eyes, that half of the world going dark for a moment.

    NOT!  ENOUGH!

    And he kept on going, his anger not letting him stop, not anymore.  Hunger, anger, it was all just one jumbled mess now, along with the rest of his thoughts.  Kill, eat, it was all the same.  And this winged idiot was trying to stop it?  Trying to stand in the way of his hunger?

    ¡°NOT ENOUGH!  JUST NOT ENOUGH!¡±

    He screamed the words as the monster lunged!  It was met with resistance, more attacks, but it forced its way through.  Both the man and the monster were blinded by the assault though, so all they could do was swing wildly at where they thought their tormentor to be.  Etienne felt his crazed smile widen as he felt an impact and heard a cry of pain.  A hit!

    But still . . . not enough.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    It . . . it wasn¡¯t enough!

    I¡¯d thrown everything I could at Etienne!  Hell, I¡¯d managed to do more than I¡¯d ever done before!  When I¡¯d been down after my wing was broken my halo had reacted, starting to give off that note, then . . . then I suddenly felt like I could take on the world!

    I could suddenly channel more of the colours, make them bigger, stronger, sharper!  I¡¯d been able to do the kinds things of I¡¯d imagined when I heard I was going to have magic.  Fireballs, lightning bolts, lasers, ice spears, almost anything I could imagine.  Suddenly I was the mighty sorcerer out of my favourite books, the sort that could face off against a horde of orcs or take on a dragon.

    So, I used it, I used it all and rained down as much elemental destruction as I could on the advancing monster.  I could feel it, feel just how strong the attacks I was using were.  Hell, I could see it!  The few attacks that missed or were dodged managed to tear up the ground like artillery fire, blast trees over, and smash stones apart.  I could feel that pressure growing in my head again, but this time it was worse, like a pipe forced to contain too much pressure and too much heat.  I thought I felt something leaking from my nose but ignored it as I forced myself on.

    I couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted.  Yeah, I might be hurting myself, but if I didn¡¯t stop the monster then I wouldn¡¯t simply be hurt, I¡¯d be eaten.  Not just killed but consumed!

    I hit him as hard as I could, with everything I could think of.  Some colours slipped away from me, my mental grip not yet strong or skilled enough to hold them.  The empty grey, the roiling purple, the sickly and poisonous green, even with the boost from my halo they were beyond me.  Others though, the ones I was familiar with, they responded, and came in a quantity and quality I¡¯d never been able to manage before.  Power enough that I was sure even Joan or Hadriel would have been impressed.

    Again, and again, and again!

    And . . . he . . . just . . . kept . . . coming!

    He burnt, he broke, he bled, he froze, but it didn¡¯t stop him!  He regenerated, he healed, and he just didn¡¯t stop, no matter what I did.  I aimed at his limbs, trying to cripple him, he pulled himself along with the bleeding stumps even as they regrew.  I attacked his main body to drive him back, he just forced himself onwards, uncaring of pain, healing as fast as I inflicted the damage.  I even attacked the real Etienne on the monster¡¯s back, hoping to drive it back if he was hurt, but even that failed.

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    Seeing that, seeing him take everything I could throw at him and still keep coming, I felt my earlier confidence start to crumble.  This was the most power I¡¯d ever been able to draw out, surpassing anything I¡¯d managed in training, but it wasn¡¯t enough.  And if it this wasn¡¯t enough to beat him then . . . was I even able to?

    There was no other way though, escape wasn¡¯t really an option.  That blow, the one that had broken my wing, had done more than just snap the bone, it had also broken the web of power I¡¯d built inside myself to allow me to fly.  That web had been anchored to my whole body, but some of the focus points had been in my wings, and when it broke the unfamiliar pain and the shock to the physical appendage had disrupted the web, breaking it.

    I could recreate it, and re-establish my power of flight, but it would take time and concentration, neither of which were available to me as Etienne continued to advance.  if I let up, if I gave him any opening, then he¡¯d come crashing down on me like an avalanche of flesh and fangs.

    And what was even worse was what I felt over the link.

    When my wing broke, I¡¯d tried to reach Etienne, tried to . . .  Honestly, I didn¡¯t know.  I knew he wasn¡¯t in control, but I thought I might be able to get him to pause, to hold back, to do something.  It was a wild hope, like holding up your hand when attacked to try to get them to stop.  You knew they wouldn¡¯t, but the instinct was there.

    When I opened the link, it was as though the mind on the other end was gone.  Instead, all I found was a blazing inferno of rage and hunger.

    Simple words couldn¡¯t do the sheer enormity of those emotions justice.  So much anger, anger at me, anger at the world, anger at everything, thick, black, and burning.  And the hunger . . . it was like it had no end.  A hunger that would consume everything!

    I shut them out, closing the link and concentrating on using every offensive element I could think of.  But even as I poured the magic into fire and thunder I could feel both rage and hunger at the back of my thoughts. Bleeding through, screaming at me!  Screaming they would never quit, never give up, never stop!

    I ignored it, kept on pushing, kept on attacking, kept on throwing everything I could at the monster before me.  I wasn¡¯t even really thinking about it anymore, the pounding in my head not really allowing it.  Instead, I was just running on instinct, cycling through the elements I had a grip on, using them in every way I could imagine, or that just felt right!

    One of them had to work!  One of them had to-

    The blow caught me completely off guard, so absorbed was I in trying to force more magic into my attacks.  I thought I heard a voice, or was it just the echo of one, something from a moment ago that was just now filtering into my conscious thoughts?

    Whatever the case, I came back to myself as my back slammed into a tree.

    There had been no grace or skill to the blow, just pure brutal power.  I felt things crack inside me, felt pain ripping through my spine, tasted blood in my mouth, but somehow, I managed to stay conscious.

    Somehow, I managed to half shift half fall into a sitting position, my back to the tree, even though the slightest movement was causing me agony.  I really only managed it because my limp wings were pulling me into a sort of middle position, both of them splayed out on the ground.  Distantly I worried about them getting dirty, then, as another bolt of pain ran up my back, I wondered if I should be more worried about my spine.

    Coughing from a sudden tightness in my chest I lifted my eyes to stare at the monster, trying to see what it was doing.  To my surprise it wasn¡¯t rushing straight at me, rather it was slowly rising up, like a cobra lifting its head.  The long tendrils that came from its frontal portion rested on the ground, though I couldn¡¯t tell if they were dangling down or propping it up.

    It wasn¡¯t facing me right now, but as I watched I saw it slowly begin to turn.  Its sudden slowness after the frantic action of the last few minutes was jarring, disorienting.

    Still, what did it matter how slow it was?  There wasn¡¯t much I could do about it.  I couldn¡¯t move, my limbs just didn¡¯t respond.  If it weren¡¯t for the fact that I could still feel their pain I might have feared that my spine had been snapped.

    But worse than that, I was just spent, I had nothing left.  I¡¯d been burning through my stamina like crazy as I got stronger, knowing that escape wasn¡¯t an option anymore, not after it cornered me.  At that point my only choices were victory or death, so why try and preserve my reserves of power?

    Before, I¡¯d had momentum on my side.  As I pulled from my reserves I¡¯d been able to drag more out, the act of constantly draining it making it easier to keep up a continuous major flow.  As my reserves dwindled down it¡¯d been harder to keep up, but that was where the momentum played its part.

    Well, it had worked.  I¡¯d managed to throw massive amounts of magic at the monster, and I no longer had the strength to drag out any more.

    True, my reserves weren¡¯t completely empty, and they were refilling as my enhanced vitality allowed me to recover magical energy fast, but that didn¡¯t matter.  What was used up was my ability to convert it, to use it to conjure up any sort of offensive force.  I¡¯d pushed that part of me too far, and like an overworked muscle, it had just given out.  It¡¯d probably heal in time, but not soon enough!

    Above me, even my halo seemed to reflect my exhaustion, the note that had once echoed so clearly now sounding dull and faint.  It sounded like a dirge of sorts, a final mournful send-off.

    My body wouldn¡¯t move, all I could manage was spasmodic twitches.  My magic still reacted, but felt numbed, uncoordinated.  My head was pounding too much from pain, pressure, and disorientation to really think about anything.  I was trying to clear it, but everything felt off, wrong.

    A shadow fell across me as Etienne¡¯s monstrous form finished twisting about.  For a moment all I could do was blink up stupidly.  Then, as the maw opened and it started to move closer, it finally clicked into place.

    I was going to die.

    The confusion burned away like morning mist under a hot sun, but it didn¡¯t do me much good since my body still refused to obey me, and my magic was no better.  Twitches were the best I could do when I tried to move, and tiny sparks were all I could produce, rather than lightning bolts or fireballs.

    Nothing!

    That was all I could do, nothing that would save me!

    Maybe the creature that was growing out of Etienne somehow sensed it too.  Earlier it had moved like lightning, now it had the ponderous slow inevitability of an oncoming glacier.  Was it taking pleasure in my fear?  In my frustration?

    I¡¯d heard that some animals tormented their prey because it made them taste better.  The chase, the fear, it released hormones and chemicals in an attempt to stay alive.  Such things apparently spiced up the flesh.

    Was that what I was dealing with?

    My vision blurred as my eyes began to tear up, a mixture of frustration, despair, and fear making them well up.  I blinked, trying to clear them, but only felt my frustration grow as I realized I couldn¡¯t even reach up to wipe them away.

    I . . . flailed, that was the only way I could think of describing it.  Sat there, paralysed, watching the monster that wanted to consume me drawing closer, I did the only thing I could and just flailed about with what magic I had left.  There wasn¡¯t any thought to it, no plan, no reason, just the frantic flailing of the desperate.

    I first felt my opportunity not with my magic, but rather with my flesh.  The tree I¡¯d smashed into had been right at the edge of the clearing, enough so that the underbrush had grown up around part of its trunk.  I¡¯d been trying to make a fist, but instead, my fingers had convulsively clutched at the dirt.

    It was only when my arm twitched, jumping to the side a bit, that those convulsing fingers finally curled around something other than loose dirt or empty air.

    I only noticed it because of the pain, otherwise I might have been too focused on the oncoming monster.  Still, the feeling of sharp thorns digging into my palm was enough to draw my attention, making me realize I had a death grip on the bramble.

    This wasn¡¯t one of the ¡®domesticated¡¯ versions of the plant, the ones bred for large berries and small thorns.  This was a wild bramble, the sort that defended itself with the kind of thorns that looked as though they¡¯d happily tear the flesh from your bones if you stuck your hand where it didn¡¯t belong.  Thorns that curved almost a centimetre out of the vine.

    Thorns that were now embedded in my skin.

    What happened next would have been a brilliant tactical decision, if I¡¯d done it consciously.  Instead, it was an action of pure reflex, nothing more.

    Even as I looked down at what was hurting me I¡¯d still been flailing around with my magic, mindlessly trying to find something, anything, that I could use it on.  As soon as I looked down and my mind made the connection between the pain and the bramble vine I was clutching, my magic made the jump.

    It was absurdly easy, probably because of the thorns digging into me, soaking in my blood.  Magic and blood share a deep connection, with blood being quite possibly the simplest and oldest method of using magic.  Blood had many properties, or so Joan had told me when giving me a grounding in some of the basics of magic, but its best was as a conductor for magical energy.

    My magic was looking for an outlet, one that could somehow help me, and here was a vine soaked in my own blood.  With all the ease of electricity shooting through a soaking wet towel, my magic jumped to the bramble and immediately went to work.

    It wasn¡¯t a sophisticated use of my power, not like how I¡¯d worked on the cherry trees, or the other plants back at the farmhouse.  Instead, my magic slammed into the plant with only two overwhelming imperatives; ¡®Keep me alive¡¯ and ¡®Stop the monster¡¯, nothing more.

    When using magic, control is paramount.  You never let the magic just run wild.  Doing so made it powerful, but also made it unpredictable and dangerous, that was something Joan and Hadriel had repeatedly emphasized to me.  The consequences of uncontrolled magic could be . . . messy

    What I was doing was dancing on the line between maintaining my control, and simply throwing power at the problem and seeing what happened.  Fortunately, even in my scattered mental state, the halo helped me to imprint the basic imperatives that were in my mind onto the magic, something that probably saved my life.

    The entire bramble, attached to the vine I held, practically erupted outwards.  The whole thing grew so fast that for a moment I honestly thought the underbrush was exploding.  Long stems, almost tentacle-like in their growth, shot towards the monstrous form of Etienne, wrapping around the nearest limbs, and growing along them.

    The monster did not react violently to those first growths.  If anything, it seemed to be more puzzled than anything, at least as far as I could tell.  No, puzzlement was too human a concept to apply to it.  Rather, it was as though it had been expecting a more dangerous attack, and was uncertain as to what to do next after having seen how weak what came was.  With a simple shift of its weight, it broke the stems, then continued onwards, ignoring the new growths that followed them.

    That was a mistake.

    The first hint the warped monster got that things were going wrong was just as it got closer to me.  At that point, my thoughts were coming back together into some sort of cohesion, and I could have sworn I saw saliva leaking from the corners of the maw, as though it were drooling in anticipation.  Then I saw its muscles bunched to move it forward . . . and it remained in place.

    I¡¯m not sure who was more surprised, me or it.  I still wasn¡¯t too aware of what was going on at that point.  When the stems that had wrapped around Etienne had been so carelessly broken, I¡¯d given up on them but kept pumping in the mana anyway, because it was all I could do.

    My eyes flicked around the clearing, taking in various sights like pictures, then trying to make sense of it.  I stared in incomprehension, then the pieces clicked together, and I could work out what was happening.

    The bramble I¡¯d been flooding with my power had spread across the whole clearing like some sort of plague, the vines dipping into the ground, then coming up again as they grew.  From where they had been pulled out I could see that they¡¯d dug roots into the soil, long and deep roots to fuel their growth.

    And they needed that fuel.  The first stems, the ones that had been so casually broken had been about as thick as my little finger, but otherwise normal.  These new vines . . . they compared to those first ones in the same way a tiger compared to a housecat. Each one was thicker than my wrist, the thorns on them looking like some unholy cross between daggers and meat hooks.  Even the leaves were dangerous, large and leathery, and lined with smaller hooks along their edges.  For a moment I thought back to childhood memories, to tales of Sleeping Beauty and a castle choked with briar thorns.

    But this was no fairy tale.  The brambles bit into the earth, emerged again, split, split again, dug into the soil again, then grew more.  Again and again and again.  Shoots growing off into their own vines, only for more shoots to grow from them.  In short order, the bramble I¡¯d been empowering had become a veritable tide of brown stems, green leaves and grey thorns.  A tide that had engulfed the back of the serpentine monster and was moving to swallow the rest of it.

    There was a moment, a split second that seemed to stand out to me.  Maybe it was some mystic talent that I hadn¡¯t been aware I possessed, or, more likely, it was my still somewhat concussed state.  All I knew was that in that instant I could feel the world teetering, balancing on the weight of a single choice.  And what made things worse was that it wasn¡¯t me who was making the choice.  It wasn¡¯t even Etienne himself who was making it, I could tell that from the way his eyes seemed to swim between a glazed stupor and a feverish intensity.

    No, the one making the choice was the monster that was growing out of his flesh, a creature that came as close to being a mindless embodiment of hunger as anything I could imagine.

    It could have lashed out at me, helpless as I was it wouldn¡¯t have been hard.  Yes, it couldn¡¯t reach me with its mouth, not held as it was, but its tentacles were free, and I couldn¡¯t do anything to dodge or defend myself.  It could have picked me up and thrown me into its maw like some sort of snack.  It could have lashed out with those hidden barbs and killed me just as easily.  It could have dragged me away from the bramble I held, cutting my ability to feed the plant mana, ending the problem it was dealing with.

    But such thoughts, such plans, were the province of thinking beings, of man, of the beings like man.  This creature, it was just an animal, and a stupid one at that.

    Maybe I was being harsh, after all, how was it to know that I was the cause of the green growth seeping over it?  All it knew was that it was being attacked, so perhaps it could be said that it was natural for it to forget its food and instead concentrate on the danger.  Whatever the case, the monster¡¯s attention was diverted from me as its tendrils reached out, tearing at the vines tightening around it, uncaring of the thorns.  It tore away great swathes of green, tangles of vines and stems larger than I was.  But the brambles kept on growing.

    I could feel it.  My mind had cleared and I could now understand what I felt from the plant I was tied to.  The soil here was good, nutritious if not rich, and the rain the night before still rested beneath the surface providing plenty of water as needed.  The plant could grow freely, though it was unlikely the other plants in the area would do so well in the coming days.  It was strong growth, but I needed more!

    I gritted my teeth and forced more mana to travel through the channels in my arm and into the thorns digging into my flesh.  Above me I heard the flagging note of the halo pick up once more, growing clearer and louder.  I also felt the rest of my body . . . flush, as though a wave of heat were passing through me.  My limbs still felt weak as a kitten¡¯s, but the paralysis seemed to be passing.

    In response to my efforts, the growth increased, both in speed and size.  Longer vines, thicker stems, more vicious thorns, more, more, more!

    Nearly half of the monster¡¯s form was covered by greenery now, held in place despite the thrashing of its upper portion.  I could hear the continuous groan and snap as the enhanced brambles gave way, but for every one that broke another grew to take its place.  It was a question of leverage, namely that the monstrous creature had none.  It had been caught by surprise and was now too entangled to break free.  Any struggle it made was fought by hundreds of vines sharing the burden.

    I felt a surge of hope, of excitement!  Maybe I would be able to survive this!  Maybe I could win!

    Almost immediately after those thoughts rose up I felt something wrong through my link with the bramble, something bad.  The plant felt . . . tired, weak, spent.  For a moment I couldn¡¯t understand what was happening, it had been growing like a rocket only an instant before, my magic fuelling it.  So, what was wrong?  What had changed?

    The connection to the plant provided the answer almost immediately, the same magic that empowered its growth granting me an intuitive understanding of the plant it suffused.  Water, and food, it seemed to be crying out for both, though water seemed to be the primary need.  For an instant I couldn¡¯t understand it, sure that earlier I¡¯d felt lots of water in the ground, ready and waiting to be drunk.  Then the plant provided the answer.

    It had all already been drunk, used as material for the explosive growth of the bramble, and leaving the ground nearly as parched as a desert, and without water, it couldn¡¯t draw nutrients from the soil.  The growth of my plant was faltering and would soon fail.  Magic could make up for some deficiency in resources, but it could only go so far.

    I needed more water, more rain!

    My free hand rose shakily up, the half-open fingers pointing towards the clear sky as I focused, trying to keep the flow of magic entering the bramble steady even as I tried to open up another flow from the same source.  For a moment I thought back to my experiments with dual casting, levitating that tree trunk while playing around with fire, and felt a surge of satisfaction.  It hadn¡¯t been useless, it hadn¡¯t just been a game!

    As a colour weather magic was strange, a sort of blueish-white and grey that made me think of the different types of sky.  It was all three colours at once, yet was able to keep the colours distinct from each other.  It was an apt colour for the magic, subtle and strange.

    Controlling the weather didn¡¯t need much power, and why should it?  The amount of power already present in the world¡¯s atmosphere was immense, all I needed to do was prod it, coax it in the direction that I wanted and then let it do the rest.  I could feel how easy it would be to mess things up.  Weather was wild, even wilder than most forms of magic, and not something I had wanted to use at all until I had more experience.

    But what I needed wasn¡¯t a hurricane or a blizzard.  What I needed was the simplest thing that weather magic could provide.  All I wanted was rain.

    The weakening brambles strained, breaking, weakening, but the colour of weather already flowed through me, reaching out into the sky.  What was once a clear blue with only a few streaks of white suddenly became grey.  Fat droplets of water started to fall, even before the clouds above had managed to gather together.  The downpour grew stronger and stronger as the sky darkened, though the only place it was doing so was directly above us.  Around the edges, I could see the blue of the regular sky, but above me and Etienne only the dark grey of rain clouds could be seen.

    The water fell, and my bramble drank it greedily.  The growth surged back to full force, then seemed to double and redouble!  A strangled roar escaped the monster¡¯s maw as it tore away at the thorny growth.  But despite ripping away huge chunks of plant body with every effort it just wasn¡¯t able to keep up.  First, the rest of its back body was engulfed, then one of the larger tendrils was caught, then one of the main tentacles, then another, and another.  Each tendril that was caught meant there were fewer limbs to keep the growth back, and it became easier to ensnare another limb.  Blood leaked out of hundreds of tiny wounds, but still it struggled, healing them as fast as they were inflicted.

    Slowly I fought my way back to my feet the thorned vine still tightly clutched in my hand.  I was still unsteady, feeling more like a newly born colt trying to stand than a demigod that had just bound the nightmare of a monster.  I couldn¡¯t even use my flight to help me, all my attention was focused on keeping up my feed to the bramble.  Behind me my wings dragged in the mud, soaking wet and still lacking the energy to pick themselves up.  It was a hindrance, and I could feel it as soon as I took my first step, but I didn¡¯t let it stop me.

    Staggering forwards through the pouring rain I made my way towards the bound form of Etienne and his monster.  It was on the ground now, the vines having grown tight, dragging it down until its belly was flat against the earth and more shoots and stems bound it in place.  Bound it where I could reach it.

    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure what I was doing, but it was the only thing I could think to do.  It was only a vague notion, but earlier I¡¯d managed to make a connection to Etienne when his monster wrapped its tendrils around my arm.

    Maybe . . . maybe if I could establish a stronger connection then . . . something would happen.  I didn¡¯t know what, but I hoped that it would be enough to let me survive this mess!

    It was only a few steps, but it took me what felt like an eternity to reach the bound monster.  It would have been better to have laid my hand on the beast¡¯s main body, a satisfying way of confirming my dominance.  Unfortunately, I lacked the energy to make it even that far, so I settled for dropping down to the dirt and sitting next to a bound tentacle, mud staining my already-soaked clothing.  Most of the limb was covered in the thorny vines, but there was enough free skin for me to grab the thick limb without getting skewered.

    I wasn¡¯t sure what I was expecting, some sort of door to open in my mind maybe.  To feel some sort of flow of energy in his body that I could connect to.  Maybe even to just connect again with Etienne himself.

    I wasn¡¯t expecting to be dragged into what felt like a raging storm the size of a star!

 Chapter 13: The Devil at the Root: Part One

    Chapter 13: The Devil at the Root

    Etienne could feel himself coming apart.  He¡¯d held on as long as he could, but he knew that the end was coming.

    Under him, the monster raged!  It was trapped, held, restrained for the first time in its short existence, and it hated it!  Hated it with a blazing passion that actually took the French demigod by surprise.  Less than an hour ago this thing that grew from him had possessed nothing in the way of emotions, only appetites and drive, yet now he could feel hate and anger from it.  Under other circumstances he might have found it interesting, but as things were . . .

    He was sinking into the beast even faster now, its flesh seeming to grow more eager to consume him the more agitated it became.  Maybe some part of it understood that it could grow to be more once it took him in?  He didn¡¯t know.  All he knew was that the more the monster struggled, the more it bled, the more it fought the stronger it became.  And as it grew stronger Etienne was slowly swallowed up, not just in body, but also in mind.

    He could feel it, tiny bits of him coming apart as more and more of him disappeared under the creature¡¯s hide.  Ideas, concepts, even memories, it was taking them all, making them part of itself.  He could no longer remember his own mother¡¯s face or the colour of his home¡¯s front door.  He couldn¡¯t remember how to start a campfire, or how to fix a broken fan.  It would have been awful, but his mind had once more collapsed into a strangely lucid apathy.

    Maybe it wouldn¡¯t come to him being consumed, maybe this winged young man would kill him.  It was possible, right?  Etienne wouldn¡¯t have thought it possible for the other demigod to restrain the monster as he had, but he¡¯d managed it.  Could he do it?  Could he really end it before Etienne was gone?

    By this point only his head and shoulders were still unsubmerged, all the rest of him was gone, melted into the flesh of the monster.  He was less a person fused to the back of the monster¡¯s head, and more akin to some sort of grotesque growth.  Was that all he was, a growth, a pustule, a pimple on the monster that had taken over his life?

    Through eyes that were growing heavy he watched as the other demigod clambered to his feet and all but stumbled towards the beast¡¯s bound form.  Was he really going to try to kill Etienne and the creature that had grown from him?  He didn¡¯t look like he could.  Hell, he looked as though he could barely stand.

    When the winged demigod fell back to the earth, his legs seeming to give out, it didn¡¯t come as too much of a surprise.  But then he reached out and touched the bound tentacle . . .

    There was a sudden sensation of falling, as though the world around him was receding into the distance.  For a moment he felt the apathy burning away, being replaced by panic.  Was this it?  Was he being pulled in and consumed?  Was . . . was he going to die?  Or was he going to linger, his soul trapped in this monster until it was killed?

    No.  no, he didn¡¯t feel bad.  In fact . . . Etienne blinked as he realised that he felt good, better than he had in weeks.  The pain, the pressure, the constant grind on his mental walls from the hunger¡¯s incessant demands, it was all gone!  For the first time in what felt like forever, it was just him, his mind on its own.

    The last of his uncaring faded away.  No, rather it was torn away!  For the first time, the demigod looked around himself, finally finding the will to act, trying to understand what was going on.

    Wherever he was Etienne knew he wasn¡¯t here in the flesh.  He had no flesh, no arms, no legs, all he had was a point of view, a perspective that let him see, hear, feel, even smell.  He could turn, he could alter his viewpoint, but nothing else.  Whatever was going on, it had left him an observer.

    As to where he was . . . he was unsure.  All around him seemed to be nothing but endless open space.  It wasn¡¯t white, rather the space around him was a pale grey that seemed to stretch away into infinity.  There was nothing else, no landmarks to orient himself upon, just him and the void.

    In a way it was restful, a relief from the constant crushing pressure he¡¯d been forced to endure since his awakening.  For a moment he just enjoyed that relief, not bothering to think about the future, just existing in the present freedom from his monster.

    Then there was a flicker off to his left, a hint of motion amidst a world of stillness.  Instinctively Etienne oriented his sight to focus on the movement, his will directing his viewpoint as easily as it would have moved his eyeballs.  What he saw was a vague outline cast in white, as though mist was moving around an invisible figure.  There were arms, legs, and . . . wings?  For a moment the French demigod wondered if this was the afterlife and if this was some sort of angel here to take him wherever he was meant to go.  However, there was something familiar about the outline, the proportions, the hints of the face . . .

    The roar that drew away Etienne¡¯s attention started low, so much so that at first he didn¡¯t really hear it, only felt it.  But it grew quickly, and soon it was a distant rumbling that couldn¡¯t be ignored.  His eyes flicked away from the outline, trying to find the source of the sound.  To his surprise, it was ¡®behind¡¯ him, the spot directly opposite to his original line of sight.

    It was a distant globe, one that seemed only to be the size of a football.  It was mostly grey, and darker grey than the rest of this place, an angrier grey.  Every now and then a flash of red would light up a part of it, only for it to grow dark again.

    And it was growing larger.

    Much larger.

    Very quickly.

    All thoughts of the white outline beside him faded away as the once small globe grew, first to the size of a beachball, then to a house, then a hill, then more as it began to dominate his entire field of vision.  It was colossal, the size of an entire mountain range.  No, even bigger!  What he¡¯d taken to be a ball was actually a huge globe of . . . storms?

    Yes, the massive sphere seemed to be composed of immense billowing banks of storm clouds, black as soot and roiling as though driven by the winds of some mad hurricane.  The storm front seemed to bubble up in every direction, then fall back down towards the centre of the enormous sphere, only to be replaced by more clouds only an instant later.  The whole thing was like a gigantic ever-moving spherical tempest, one that roared the entire time.

    By the gods, that noise!  It was as though the entire world was being swallowed up by a never-ending thunderclap, or maybe the endless cacophony of some impossibly massive waterfall roaring on interminably.  But . . . there was something else, something beneath the endless torrent of sound, something hidden.  He didn¡¯t know what it was, but deep in his soul he felt something he¡¯d never known was there stir and shiver.

    Closer and closer, and finally, he realized that it wasn¡¯t that the once small globe had grown larger, rather it was that he had drawn closer to it.  No, had he possessed eyes they would have widened as the realization hit him.  He wasn¡¯t travelling towards it, instead he was falling into it!

    Understanding of his situation came only a moment before his viewpoint passed through the ¡®surface¡¯ of the massive storm, plunging into darkness that was lit only by the frequent flashes of red.  To his side, Etienne could still make out the pale winged outline that had been moving with him, but it was difficult, through the strange raging tempest.

    And even more disturbing than the wind was the fire.  Yes, fire.  That was what the strange red flashes were, gargantuan bursts of blood-coloured flames!  At first, he¡¯d thought that it was red lightning, but then he saw a huge column of fire erupt from the depths of the storm.  For a moment it blazed there, a crimson line of light in the darkness, but then it was torn by the wind, scattered and dissolved into the tempest.  Etienne couldn¡¯t see what source the fire had, but he could tell that it came from the depths of the storm, the centre.

    The point he seemed to be falling towards!

    He didn¡¯t know how long he fell, time seemed to lose all meaning in the whirling, roiling world of cloud, wind, and fire.  It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours.  The young demigod only came back to himself when suddenly he fell through a final bank of clouds to find himself . . . in the eye?

    It was a calm space surrounded in every direction by the huge storm, a smaller sphere within the larger globe.  Of course, calling it smaller was a relative term.  Etienne had no idea how far he had travelled through the tempest, or how large it had been from the outside, but this calm spot was still large enough to comfortably house the mountain that floated at its centre.

    It seemed that it was that mountain he was being drawn to, even as his fall began to slow down.  After only a few minutes the French demigod was floating above the dark mass, gazing down at it as the world of storms roared around him.  As he hung there, Etienne wondered what was meant to happen next.  Why was he here?  Just what was going on?

    Then the mountain moved.

    For a moment he didn¡¯t quite understand what he was seeing, his mind unable to fully grasp the sheer scale of it.  He thought it was some sort of rockslide, a side of the mountain giving way and sliding off into the grey void around them.  But then he watched the supposed avalanche rise up, up, and up, and he couldn¡¯t deny what he was looking at.

    It was a wing, a titanic bat¡¯s wing fit for the most fearsome of dragons.  It unfurled from about the gargantuan mass like an unwrapping cloak, then it was joined on the other side by an equally huge wing, completing the pair and revealing what they had been wrapped about.  Absurdly, the sight made Etienne think back to a Disney film that he¡¯d seen as a child, a scene that had frightened him at that time, of a demon on a mountaintop unwrapping its wings in a similar way.  All he could think was of how . . . childish the sight that had once given him nightmares was in comparison to the sight before him now.

    Awe inspiring as the sheer scale of the wings was though, it had nothing on what they revealed.  The figure was vaguely human-like in that it had a head, shoulders, arms, and a torso, but that was where any similarity to a man ended.  Below the waist, there were no legs, simply a mass of . . . tentacles?  Vines?  He wasn¡¯t sure.  This place, the eye of the storm was better lit, lines of fire constantly running along its inner surface giving a dull red light, but even so it was murky.  Etienne was sure he could see several sinuous lengths wrapped about each other, but that was all, he could see no details.

    The upper body of the . . . the titanic figure before him was easier to make out.  The bodiless demigod could make out a broad chest and muscles that bulged like carved stone beneath the surface, connected to the huge wings extended from the figure''s back, just around his shoulder blades.  The arms, which stretched out as the wings spread, could not be mistaken for human.  The left one had at least one more joint than it should have and ended not in a hand but in a gigantic dragon¡¯s head.  He couldn¡¯t tell the colour of its scales, not with the red light from above, but there was no mistaking the huge jaws, the gleaming teeth, and the tongue that flicked out serpent-like.  The right arm was more human-like in design and proportion, but rather than fingers the hand was composed of five short snakes extending from where fingers should have been on a hand.

    Still, as inhuman as all of that was it was the head and face that were the most horrifying.

    The proportions were close to those of a man, but the details . . . the head and face were framed by an almost leonine mane, the hair seeming long and matted.  However, as he looked closer, he saw that the ¡®hair¡¯ was moving, twisting in place.  Even though he didn¡¯t have a body the demigod was sure he felt the blood freeze in his veins as the realization hit him.

    Snakes, the entire mane, every hair of it, was made of snakes, hundreds, thousands of them!

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    And the face . . . horrifying as the snakes were, the face of the giant was even worse!  It was as though some mad sculptor had tried to craft facial features that were the distilled essence of ugliness.  The face had the correct features, eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, and so on, and they were all in the correct place, but that was all.  The mouth was too wide.  The lips curled in a sneer to reveal inhuman teeth.  The eyes were wide and staring, the distant glow of dancing flames to be seen in their depths.  The nose was jagged, crooked, broken and hooked.  And all of it came together to show an expression that spoke of overwhelming rage and cruelty.

    The giant¡¯s mouth opened, and suddenly the roar of the storm was overwhelmed, buried beneath a howl that could have made an erupting volcano seem tame by comparison!

    Etienne felt something slam into him.  It couldn¡¯t be considered a voice or words, it was simply too huge, too vast to be contained by such concepts.  If continents somehow communicated with each other, if they somehow used earthquakes and volcanoes to pass concepts between them, then it would have sounded like this!  In that instant, the young demigod was happy that he had no body, because any sort of flesh, even the inhuman monstrosity that he had become, would have been pulverized by that sound as surely as an ant before an avalanche!

    Yet there was also something else, something buried.  He could hear it though, he could understand it!

    It wasn¡¯t a word.  It wasn¡¯t any sort of language.  It was a concept, one that combined many notions.  It was primitive, it was brutal, and it left no room for misunderstanding.

    *BLOODLINE/DESCENDANT/KIN/TOOL/VENGENCE/OFFSPRING/REVENGE/ANNIHILATION!*

    For a moment Etienne felt his mind creak and shudder, not only unable to endure the sheer force behind the communication but also stunned by what it meant! No!  No, it couldn¡¯t be true!

    *PROGENY/WEAPON/BLIGHT/INHERITOR/MALEDICTION!*

    There was no denying it, no matter how he wished otherwise.  He was a demigod, which meant he was descended from a divine being, and the roar was hammering into his mind one thing.

    This monstrosity before him was the source of his divinity.

    Now, at least, he knew why he¡¯d become a monster.  How could he possibly have been anything else?  This . . . this monstrosity, this abomination, was his ancestor, the source of the power that had made him a demigod!  How could such a bloodline be anything other than incurably tainted?

    And beyond that, there hadn¡¯t simply been an explanation of their connection in that howling hurricane of a roar, there had been more.  There had been possessiveness, a sense that to this being he wasn¡¯t just a descendant, he was a pawn, a piece to be moved.  And there was a sense of towering rage.  A burning need to strike out, to hurt, to ruin, all as an act of retribution, to hurt those that had hurt this being.

    *Wha . . . what?*

    By comparison, Etienne¡¯s own voice was a thin and meagre thing.  It felt as though it were being lost in the wind, swallowed up by the darkness about him before it ever had a chance to reach anyone.  But it must have reached the titanic monster, because images and emotions came back at him, slamming into his mind with all the grace and delicacy of a sledgehammer being used to crack open a peanut.

    Etienne saw himself as he had been when he began to change, his legs becoming those of a monster.  When this had happened to him he had run from his home, trying to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to stay until he worked out what was happening to him.  However, in the vision, he wasn¡¯t hiding.  Instead, he was rampaging, ignoring attempts to stop him with guns and improvised weapons as he gorged his hunger on anything or anyone he wanted.

    Etienne saw himself again, now larger, the first time he had shed his outer skin as he grew.  In his vision he left, but his view remained on the cast-off flesh.  He saw as it attracted animals, he saw as they devoured it with wild abandon, and he watched as they died.  Then he saw as they came back, as they changed, twisted, and became monsters.  He watched as those monsters ran off, seeking prey of their own, saw them as they hunted down other creatures, devoured them, and grew in size.

    Etienne saw himself once more, now as large as he had been when he was fighting the other demigod.  He was surrounded by a great throng of the twisted animals, rats, foxes, squirrels, insects, birds, boar, and deer, many of them so warped that he could barely even guess what they had once been.  He watched as his self in the vision consumed them, tentacles snatching them up and throwing them into the gaping jaw of his monstrous body.  Before long the host was gone, and his body began to heave and bulge as it grew.  Again, his skin split, the larger from growing out, and again it was abandoned, only to draw in more animals after he left.

    Etienne saw himself, but it was as he had never been.  There was no hint of humanity left in the self that he saw, there was only the monster driven by hunger.  The beast was huge, towering over the form that Etienne had been trapped in many times over.  There were more aspects to it now, wings, claws, teeth, all in places that seemed bizarre and unnatural.  The monstrosity was ripping its way through a city, bringing skyscrapers crashing down, snatching up people and throwing them into its now multiple mouths.  Figures lashed out at it, striking with lightning, fireballs, blades of ice and darkness, but none of it seemed to do anything.  What injuries were inflicted healed immediately.  And even worse, any wound made left flesh behind, flesh that drew in animals that then ate it and became monsters.

    Etienne saw himself as he would have never wished to, as a titanic monster the size of a small mountain!  All about him lay the ruins of a once thriving city, but now it contained only the dead or the twisted.  In the sky about him hung figures.  Some glowed with power, some had wings growing from their back, some were even wreathed in black and malevolent fire, but all of them were staring down at him and gathering their strength.  They descended upon him, powers that felt strong enough to crack cities being unleashed, but his other self only roared in defiance and lashed out in return, a thousand times a thousand teeth, claws, limbs reaching to rend and tear divine flesh!

    He reeled back, his thoughts racing as he struggled to process what he¡¯d been shown.  Emotions had accompanied the images, painting a dark and painful picture.

    He wasn¡¯t a demigod, not in the normal sense.  Rather Etienne was a half-blood meant to be a weapon, flawed in a way specifically meant to create a monster.  That flesh that sloughed off him each time he grew . . . it was meant to create monsters, monsters that would spread, flourish, grow, and then serve as fuel for him to grow once more.  It was a repeating cycle, one that would overtake whatever ecosystem existed and shift it to destroy the enviroment around him while giving him the biomass he needed to continue his monstrous growth.

    And all of it was aimed at the creation of that . . . that thing that had been in the final vision!  Etienne knew that it was what he might have become, had the hunger consumed him and gone on to feast without restraint.  A monster that could kill demigods with ease, once fully mature!  A catastrophe that could devastate cities and force the gods themselves to act!

    And that was what his . . . progenitor wanted!  The French demigod knew it with a bone-deep certainty.  Whoever this titanic monster that was the origin of his divine blood was, they harboured an unending hatred for the gods.  To them Etienne was not a family member, wasn¡¯t a child or some sort of descendant, rather he was a weapon aimed at their enemies, and meant to die in the attempt.  But not before he hurt them, and that was all that this monster cared about!  That his creation made the gods suffer, that Etienne hurt their worshiper, that he made the gods bleed before he died!  Compared to that, the death or survival of the young demigod was utterly unimportant.

    For a moment the bodyless young man simply hovered in place, stunned by the titanic rage and crushing indifference.  The gargantuan monster had answered his question because it didn¡¯t care that he knew, as far as it was concerned, Etienne¡¯s fate was set.  His body would become the monster he had seen, the only other possible outcome was his death.

    *Who are you?*

    The question slipped out on its own, his mounting bewilderment, frustration and fear all combining to force him to ask it.  He had to know who was doing this to him.

    Again, it hit him!  Images, emotions, concepts, all of them slamming into him with the force of a tidal wave!

    Figures fleeing before him, both the gnats on the ground and beings of power, of authority, and they flee all before him!  They flee from his power, from his rage, from his very visage!  The Gods themselves flee before him, hiding themselves in distant lands, hiding in the forms of animals!

    Monsters!  Nightmares!  The creatures that mankind cowers before!  A lion with an invulnerable hide, a dragon guarding golden apples, a many-headed serpent that knows not death, a three-headed dog that guards the underworld!  All of them mighty!  All of them dangerous!  All of them his children!

    A battle that makes the sky shake and the earth splinter!  A king of the gods who has regained his courage lies broken and beaten before him, his limbs leaking golden blood where they have been torn open!  He howls his victory to the heavens, letting his mother know that her retribution is at hand!

    Rage!  Hatred!  The defeated has returned, his strength greater than ever!  They battle again, but this time there is no victory!  The sky is blotted out as a mountain is lifted by the god-king, then brought crashing down!  He is buried, he is broken, he is defeated!  But it is not enough!  The rage still remains, the rage that is as much a part of him as his bones!  His immortality remains, and he lives!  He lives as ages pass!  He lives as the world changes!  He lives as he is forced from the world!

    Escape!  Freedom!  A chink in the prison after so long!  He can only become one of the gnats, the tiny ones, but it is an escape from the prison!  He lets loose his rage!  He satiates his appetites!  And then there is death, a return to the prison!  But there are other chinks, though the time between them is great, and each time they come he escapes and gives vent to his frustrations!

    Inspiration!  His strength cannot escape his prison, but his essence can!  Another beast, one to scar the world!  Time, time will be taken until the power returns, but until then his blood will last!  It will wait!  It will fester!  And when the power returns his blood will make the very land that the gods love bleed!

    Again, Etienne was sent reeling by the communication.  Flashes of the past blurred with the present, scattering his thoughts and leaving him unmoored for a moment, adrift in this strange abstract world.  Then cold realization crystalized his thoughts, and it all slammed back into place with jarring force as he understood!

    Typhon, the last Titan, monster born of Gaea and Tartarus, born of Earth and hell.

    As any sensible person in a world where the legends of ancient times had returned in the flesh would have done, Etienne had made it a point to find out about the mythologies of the gods that had entered the public eye.  When he¡¯d first begun to note his own changes that research had taken on a frantic fervour as he tried to find some hint of what was happening to him, and how it might be reversed.  He¡¯d learnt the tales of the Greek, Norse, Celtic, and Egyptian myths.  He would have learnt more, learnt other mythologies, but he¡¯d been forced to flee as his powers awakened and things grew worse.

    Still, what he had learnt was enough to let him understand what he saw, to make sense of the images he saw.  Typhon had been one of the great monsters of Greek mythology, the last challenge the gods had been forced to face to end their wars against the titans.  He was the last titan, one so huge that his head had brushed the sky when he walked, one so fearsome that the gods had fled before him when he attacked.  He battled with Zeus, after the sky god marshalled his courage, and Typhon crippled him by tearing the sinews from his muscles.  The victory was short-lived though, since with the aid of Hermes and Pan, Zeus recovered his strength and faced the titan again.  Tricked and poisoned Typhon was weakened, and eventually, Zeus used his might to lift up a mountain and bury the titan under it, trapping him forever and turning the mountain into a volcano.

    Typhon, the father of the Nemean Lion, the dragon Ladon, the Hydra, and Cerberus, all famed monsters that faced heroes and gods.  He had been the mate of Echidna, the mother of monsters, and he himself had been the most horrifying monster of all!

    And that was the origin of his bloodline?!

    Perhaps the link did more than just carry his words, perhaps it let the distant titan sense the broken demigod¡¯s emotions because even as he watched, Etienne saw those vast and ugly features rearrange into a cruel smile.  Eyes filled with fire stared at him.  Stared into him.

    *WEAPON/VENGEANCE/INEVITABLE!*

    No!  He wanted to scream it at the distant figure, to defy him, to deny him!  Etienne wanted to curse him for the ruin his life had become, for the despair, for the creeping sense of hopelessness he¡¯d had to suffer.  Yet for all his fury and spite and outrage, there was nothing he could do.  He might as well have been cursing at the sun for burning him, Typhon paid his descendant¡¯s emotions no more mind than a mountain would to the activities of an ant.

    Instead, the French demigod felt himself being slowly . . . squeezed was the only word for it.  Pressure was being applied to his being from every direction, his mind, his very essence, all of it was being crushed down into a more condensed state.  Etienne could feel his thoughts pressing together, running out of room to flow. The same was true of his emotions, anger, despair, bewilderment, all of it was being forced together, running into each other and losing distinction.  It was insane, impossible, thoughts and feelings didn¡¯t work that way!  But it was happening anyway, and through it all, he could feel a cruel glee radiating from the gigantic figure before him.

    Typhon might not care about the tiny mortal soul before him, but he cared about his vengeance upon the gods.  There was concentration going into whatever he was doing.  Not care, even through his growing pain Etienne could be sure of that, and not real effort, since it didn¡¯t seem to require much in the way of power, but there was focus.  The demigod could feel it, something . . . twisting inside him.  Something that was being condensed and strengthened by what Typhon was doing to him, something that was blackening, warping, becoming . . . other than what he was.

    Oh . . . Oh gods, no!  NO!

    He could feel it, the hunger that had dogged him, it was there growing inside him!  Whatever Typhon was doing, it was making the hunger take him!  This was what it had been trying to do earlier, when he¡¯d been sinking into its flesh, being swallowed up by it.  Now . . . now it was trying to eat his soul from the inside out, the hunger growing within him, until it had devoured all else.  Until there was nothing left but the all-consuming monster that he¡¯d seen in those visions.

    And that was what the titan wanted!

    He had no use for humanity or reason.  He just wanted a monster, and Etienne was simply the soil from which that tainted fruit would grow.  And if he was consumed in that growth . . . well, what should it matter to the Greek monster?

    Around the bodiless soul, the world began to grow dark as what consciousness remained to him began to fade.

 Chapter 13: The Devil at the Root: Part Two

    I felt as though I was losing myself.

    I didn¡¯t quite know what had happened, but somehow my mind had been dragged along when Etienne was sent into this . . . communion of his.  The problem was, I wasn¡¯t meant to be here, I could feel it as an undeniable fact, as real as gravity and just as unforgiving.  This place, what was happening here, I didn¡¯t belong, I wasn¡¯t a part of it.  Yet somehow, I¡¯d been pulled into it, the link I¡¯d been using to communicate with Etienne acting as a manacle that pulled me in when he¡¯d been drawn here.

    It was like being trapped in a massive hall of mirrors, only half the mirrors were broken, half of the whole ones were just hanging loosely from their fittings, half of those were tinted in a riot of clashing colours, and scattered among the mirrors were a few odd windows that let me see outside.

    Oh, and the hall was upside down.

    And spinning in random directions.

    The whole thing was one huge mess of confusing and clashing images and sounds.  I got brief flashes of the ¡®real¡¯ world, enough to have a general idea of what was going on, but for the most part, all I was getting was a distorted reflection of my own thoughts and feelings.  It was made even worse by the continuous riot of emotions flowing into me through the link.

    Etienne was a mess, there was no other way to put it.  There were moments when he seemed to have managed some sort of stability, only for it to fall into despair, fear, or outrage again, then he¡¯d try and build himself up once more, only to fall again.  I could feel it getting worse and worse, the attempts to recover growing more feeble, even as the falls became more torturous and brutal.  With my brief glimpses of what he was seeing I had spotted that colossal figure he was gazing upon, though I had no idea who it was.  What I did know was that even through his muddle of desperate emotions Etienne felt some sort of kinship to it, so I was guessing it had something to do with his bloodline.

    Then I felt something more than just emotion for the other demigod, I felt something . . . growing.  Something that sent chilled shots of fear through his mind strangling other thoughts and choking any other emotions.

    Hunger, remorseless, relentless hunger.  A hunger I had sensed before, if only at the edges.

    I could feel it as the hunger grew, and I could feel it as it seemed to devour everything around it, slowly hollowing Etienne out from within.  I didn¡¯t know what was going on, if it was natural, an attack, or maybe even something that he was doing to himself, but to me, it didn¡¯t matter.

    Seeing it, seeing his mind, his emotions, maybe even his very soul, being eaten out like that . . . there weren¡¯t the words to describe how much it disgusted me!  A person¡¯s mind is the result of their memories, emotions, and ideas, and those things should be untouchable.  To break those deeply intimate and private parts of a person, to undo them, to reduce them to nothing, what did that do to the mind they made up?  You could kill someone, you could torture them, but to unmake them like this . . . there was something repellent about it that went down to my core!

    This, what Etienne was being forced to endure, it was like watching some helpless victim being abused, and being unable to do anything to help!

    And what was worse was that I could feel it trying to reach out to me!  Somehow the hunger could feel the link, the connection, and it was trying to use it as a bridge to find more ¡®food¡¯ to devour.  It couldn¡¯t yet, not with so much of Etienne¡¯s essence in the way, but once it had consumed him . . .

    I wanted to break the link, to cut off any possible channel that hunger could have used to reach my mind.  I could do it too, it would¡¯ve been easy since it was my magic that was sustaining the connection.  All I had to do was will it, to consciously push the magic in it in just the right way, and then the link would break like a thread of glass hit by a lead pipe.  I wanted to do it!  I wanted it desperately!

    But if I did, then Etienne would be on his own.

    What would happen then?  What would the monster become when every shred of humanity was consumed?  What would Etienne be after he was hollowed out into an empty husk?  That wasn¡¯t something he deserved, of that I was sure.

    More than that though, what was I going to do if I did run away from this hunger?  Breaking the link might save me from it, but it wouldn¡¯t change anything in the outside world.  Out there I was still exhausted and grounded, and the brambles couldn¡¯t keep the monster held for much longer.  With nothing left in it but this insatiable rage and appetite I didn¡¯t doubt that it would be stronger, so my chances to get away weren¡¯t good.

    Screw that!

    The world about me was still a madly kaleidoscoping mess of conflicting sounds and images, but I blocked it all out as I reached along the link.  I had no plan, I was just doing it so that I could honestly tell myself that I¡¯d done all I could.  I fully expected the hunger to consume my effort, but if I went down I was going to go down swinging.

    Then I felt . . . something unexpected.

    It wasn¡¯t the hunger, it wasn¡¯t the link, it was something else, something that ran through the link, but wasn¡¯t a part of it.  Something that had let the link form?  Something that had responded to my magic?  For a moment I felt my fear fall away, a stunned kind of fascination replacing it.  This . . . this whatever it was, it ran past the hunger, and the all-consuming appetite couldn¡¯t touch it.  And it ran into Etienne¡¯s essence, the deep and as yet untouched part of him.

    I felt completely certain that this was something . . . something that I might be able to use to save him!

    I reached along it, both my mind and magic following the path.  It went past thoughts, past emotions, past the notion of consciousness, down and deep into something old, something primal, something born in that instant in the womb, when a collection of cells tipped over the point of being a dependant growth to being an independent life!

    My focus narrowed down, everything else falling away.  The whirling chaos of sight and sensation, the onslaught of outrage and despair from Etienne, the relentless pressure from the hunger, none of it existed to me anymore.  All that remained was the new link, the connection that was reaching out to something I couldn¡¯t name, but which was something I¡¯d known my entire life.

    Instinctively, I reached out with mental fingers, my magic responding and connecting to the distant point that seemed to be both the darkness of beginnings and the light of creation.  What I felt was overwhelming!

    There were shapes, concepts, hues, and sensations that I¡¯d become vaguely familiar with as I learnt to use my magic.  But rather than standing alone or in distinct groups, they were all merged together, bleeding into one another to create something that was strangely greater than the sum of its parts.  It was huge, it was complex, and it was powerful, potent in a way I¡¯d never seen before.

    It was also . . . wrong, broken, twisted in a way it shouldn¡¯t be.  This . . . this essence, it was massive and incomprehensible, but I could, intuitively, sense something not right in it.  The flow of it, the configuration, it should all be moving in a certain way, feeding into itself, processing, a repeating pattern as natural as the beat of a heart.  But it was blocked, misaligned, crippled even.  Here . . . here, and here, the points of fault just leapt out at me as though they were screaming for my attention!  The essence there was stained, putrid, a miasmic muck that seemed to clog and rot the channels and flows it clung to.

    I didn¡¯t think, and I didn¡¯t hesitate, too much of my attention was being taken up by this strange experience for me to do either.  Instead, I just reached out to the first of the distortions, trying to get a better understanding of what they were.

    *RAGE!  PURE UNTHINKING, UNMERCIFUL RAGE!  RAGE AT THE TINY MORTALS!  RAGE AT THE ARROGANT GODS!  RAGE AT THE DISTANT SERVANTS OF THE OLD ONE!  RAGE AT THE CORRUPTED ONES FROM BELOW!  RAGE AT ALL!  RAGE AT THE WORLD! RAGE!  RAGE!  RAGE ETERNAL*

    My mind tried to recoil from the sheer venomous vitriol that smashed into me.  How could any mind possibly experience such impossible heights of fury and retain any sort of rationality?  I tried to pull back, to disconnect the thread of magic that I had used to probe the knot of wrongness, and found that I couldn¡¯t!

    The thread remained in place, despite my efforts to break it!  More than that, it was changing! It took me a few horrified instants to realize what was happening, and as I did so my earlier fear and disgust returned in full force.  The wrongness of the distortions, whatever it was that was letting them warp the primal essence they were a part of, was infectious.  It was working its way along the line of magic like rot eating away at a healthy limb.

    And I couldn¡¯t break the thread!

    I panicked.  In the face of the oncoming corruption I mindlessly thrashed, lashing out with my power wildly as I tried to find something, anything, that could save me!

    More lines connected to the distortion, wild efforts that were caught like the first thread.  There was some effect though, as the rot slowed its progress, its speed seeming to disperse between the multiple threads.  But it wasn¡¯t stopping, and as I watched the corruption continued to advance.

    More!  I needed more!  The thought wasn¡¯t rational, it was just a kneejerk reaction to the oncoming threat.  I saw it coming and just threw all the magic I could at it, madly cycling through the colours as fast as I could think of them.  They streamed by in an endless rainbow, one composed of pure chaos as the hues followed one another in a nonsensical order.  Blue, red, purple, orange, violet, white, green, grey, and every variation of shade that could be imagined, all of them rushed past my mind¡¯s eye as I shoved them up the infected threads, desperately trying to keep the rot away.

    Nothing worked though!  The colours, the magic, ran into the infection, only to be corrupted and consumed themselves.

    Chnnk!

    Chnnk chnnk chnkk!

    The now familiar sounds startled me as they suddenly echoed around me.  The short, sharp, metallic noises shouldn¡¯t have been here.  How could they be?  Here I had no body here, not really.  All I had was my awareness and my magic, driven by my will, so why could I hear my halo forming?

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Chnnk!  Chnnk!  Chnk chnk chnk!

    I felt it then, the presence of the divine construct as clearly as if it were hovering over my head.  The difference wasn¡¯t great, but it was there, something lending my magic greater potency, making the colours come more easily.  With renewed vigour, I drove my magic up the threads again . . . and nothing changed!

    Regardless of how much strength I was pushing along the connections, regardless of what type of magic I was using, nothing slowed the creeping advance of the rot.  I struggled, like a fish caught on a line, trying to break my own threads of power, and without any success.

    What made it worse was that there was a growing sense that there was something I could do, some way I could save myself, but I couldn¡¯t think what it was!  It hovered just out of reach, like a name on the tip of your tongue.  It was there!  And I couldn¡¯t find it!

    Instead, it found me.

    It was in the instant the rot finished consuming my threads and made contact with my consciousness.  For a moment I felt that rage again, that dirty, cruel, selfish rage that seemed to soil all it touched.  Had I had a mouth I would have screamed.  Had I had a body it would have trembled.

    Then . . . darkness welled up, drowning everything, swallowing me, the corruption, the essence of Etienne, everything.  For a moment I wondered if I should be scared, but somehow I couldn¡¯t muster any fear.  The darkness about me was absolute.  And yet . . . I didn¡¯t feel threatened.  This darkness, this void, it felt comforting, safe.  There was something almost familiar about it, though I could not explain it.

    For a moment I just existed there, the comforting darkness about me simply holding me suspended.  It was an instant of respite that seemed to last, but which took place in the space of a couple of seconds.  Then that perfect moment of tranquillity was broken, the edges disturbed as the rot that had been advancing on me tried to break in.  I didn¡¯t know how I knew it, but the knowledge was just there, in my head.  I knew my name, I knew how to breathe, and I knew that the corruption was trying to encroach upon the perfect void that I existed in.

    That was when I felt a change in the darkness around me.  Before it had been calm, passive, welcoming.  There hadn¡¯t been anything remotely human about it, but I had felt something from it, something alien and inhuman, but vaguely recognisable nonetheless.  It had felt . . . happy?  Content?  Satisfied?  It had been something like that, but whatever it was, it had felt that due to my being there.  The feeling was passive, a state of being without motion or action.

    When the rot intruded though . . . the reaction was not passive.

    The corruption didn¡¯t stand a chance!  One instant it was there, trying to corrode the edges of the space in which I existed, the next; gone.  Not destroyed though, I knew that.  Instead, the intrusive force had been consumed, utterly devoured by the nature of this . . . place?  No, it wasn¡¯t a place.  This was a . . . a concept, an undefined idea forcing itself into being.  A thing rather than a place?  No, that wasn¡¯t right either.

    Still, whatever it was, I felt welcomed here.  This emptiness, this void, this . . .

    Abyss . . .

    The word rose up in my mind, not my own thought, but not an intrusion either.  It was just there, meant as a greeting and an identifier by this blackness which I found myself within.

    Abyss.  The origin.  That from which all arose, and that to which all shall eventually return.  Birthplace and grave, the starting point and the final destination.  The realm of the Firstborn.

    It wasn¡¯t words this time, more like concepts, images and associations rising up in my thoughts in response to some gentle prompting.  All of it led back to an image though, a sight I¡¯d seen during the dream I had before waking up as a demigod.  That dream of watching creation come into being.  I remembered the first thing that was made, the abyss, the void that had replaced the nothingness that existed.  Was this connected to it somehow?  And why was I . . . here now?  Did it connect to Etienne, and if so how?

    That thought was enough to fully rouse me from the musings I¡¯d fallen into. Etienne!  What was happening to him?  That corruption, had it consumed him?  Had it consumed me?  Had what I¡¯d sensed earlier been some sort of trick?

    In response to my thoughts, the void about me parted.  Or rather, the Abyss that I¡¯d hung in didn¡¯t so much part as it . . . turned inside out.  It might sound absurd, but that was the only way I could think of to describe it.  The void of absolute blackness that had hung around me reversed itself, and suddenly it was as though that vast emptiness was hanging within me.  Not physically, of course, rather it was as though it had entered the part of me that wasn¡¯t physical.  It wasn¡¯t quite my mind, nor my soul.  Maybe it was some part of my mana channels, or maybe my chi system.  Regardless, that all-encompassing Abyss now just sat there, as tiny as the head of a pin, but still somehow vast enough to swallow up the world.

    The huge pattern of Etienne¡¯s essence hung before me again, still vast as ever, but somehow seeming smaller after my brush with the void.  The distortions were still there, and my threads were still connected, but the earlier creeping miasma was gone.  With a thought I broke the connections, freeing myself, but I didn¡¯t run.  Part of me desperately wanted to, but another part of me felt that somehow, things had changed.  The Abyss within me, it wasn¡¯t simply sitting there, it was tinting my magic.

    The point at which it sat . . . it was something of a nexus in the flow of my internal energies.  As they ran through me they passed through that spot, and as they did so that pinprick of absolute darkness touched them, and left them changed.  It wasn¡¯t a negative change.  What was happening was a good thing, but at the same time, I had no idea what it was.

    Still, it was enough to keep me from leaving.  Instead, I tried to reach out with my magic once more, much more carefully this time.  The thin tendril of power extended slowly to the nearest of the distorted points, careful not to make contact, but close enough that I could ¡®feel¡¯ through it.  Before I had felt nothing, that was why I¡¯d been so careless in connecting to the crippled and rotting sore in the pattern.  Now, something had changed.  I pressed my awareness through the magic, trying to use it as an extension of my awareness, concentrating on the distorted sore of corruption.

    I could see it now!  I could see where things had gone wrong!

    As I focused closer, I could see that the twisting, the distortion, it wasn¡¯t something that had happened by chance.  This was something deliberate, something that had been done to him with both forethought and malice.  It had been meant to change him, it had been meant to run out of control!  That monster that had grown out of him had been no random mutation!

    I felt the eyes that I didn¡¯t have narrow as I reached for my magic again.  I could feel the Abyss threading through it, veins of darkness running through it like lines of metal ore in stone.  It didn¡¯t corrupt though, rather it reinforced, leant strength, leant potency.  I should have been scared, given what happened with my earlier attempts to touch the distortions, but there was no fear, not now.

    Contact, and I could feel the corruption trying to take hold again, but this time my magic wasn¡¯t alone, the veins of the Abyss gleefully devoured the rot before it could take hold.  The wrongness vanished into it, disappearing down into those unfathomable depths.  I felt a savage glee as my magic cut through the corruption, reaching out and touching the essence beyond it.

    As soon as I did so I could see just what was wrong, and also how to fix it!  It wasn¡¯t hard, the essence wanted to function properly, it wanted to flow as it should.  These changes were aberrations, things that it struggled against.  All I had to do was give it a bit of power, and a small push, just a nudge, in the right direction and then . . .

    I felt satisfaction as the corruption, the wrongness, gave way.  There was a moment of resistance, then it just collapsed before the pressure I was applying.  For a moment the remains just sat there, then the proper flow resumed and what was left of the corruption was dragged along the pattern, breaking up into nothing as it went.  Reaching out I repeated the process, each time the twisted knots of rot and sickness resisted, then broke.

    With the third one, I was sure I heard something, some distant note or rage that seemed to echo the emotions I¡¯d found within the corruption.  I didn¡¯t know the origin, I didn¡¯t know who¡¯d done this to Etienne, but if my actions hurt them in any way, then I felt nothing but vindictive pleasure at it.  Anyone that does this to another living being, crippling them in such a cruel and destructive way, deserved every scrap of frustration or pain I could inflict upon them.

    Before me, the huge pattern of essence was finally moving without obstruction.  It was beautiful to watch, like an artistic masterpiece slowly coming together before my eyes.  I could see as portions of it that had been obstructed began to move, those movements then causing other portions to move in different ways.  Flows that had been forced into incorrect channels finally were able to move as they should, thus freeing other flows that had been obstructed by their diversion.  As I watched, the flaws faded, and the essence returned to a perfection of form that took my breath away.

    For a long moment, I just watched, allowing myself the pleasure of seeing the transformation taking place before me.  Then I felt the world around me starting to fade at the edges, like a dream collapsing just before you wake.  I didn¡¯t try to fight it, instead, I let myself fade, content in the knowledge that I¡¯d managed something.  Something good.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The titan struggled in his confinement, rage giving him a strength that he¡¯d lacked for centuries.

    Anger was no stranger to him, rather it was an old friend, or perhaps a familiar tormentor.  It had been with him for so long, keeping him warm, never letting him forget, never letting him rest.  However, even an immortal could only sustain a certain level of rage for so long before those fires banked and were reduced to merely glowing embers.  Yes, they still burnt, but they lacked the fiery vitality they once possessed.  Time had drained them of fury, and now they simply simmered, waiting for the day when the titan was free and he could rage across the world once more.

    This was not that day.  He was still trapped, still held down by literally millions of tons of rock and dirt, the only light he could see was the dull red of molten lava.  More than simply the material, the magical binds holding him trapped remained as strong as ever, tying his essence to his prison, so even his soul was chained to these caverns.

    With the reopening of the Paths Between Worlds, he had begun to regain his old power, but the same power that revitalised him also served to empower his prison.  He was no closer to escape than he had been a century ago.

    Still, a thought had warmed him, a seed he had planted millennia ago would now be able to blossom forth in all its vile glory.  Yes, the gods had returned, and they would find his legacy waiting for them.  He had felt the tremble in the ether when his bloodline had awakened.  No other would have felt it, but it was his power that had stirred.  Even beneath the mountain that held him, the titan had sensed it as clearly as the roar of one of his children would sound in an abandoned graveyard.

    That signal had filled him with malicious glee, knowing that in less than a mortal year the gods would find themselves facing a monster worthy of his bloodline.  He¡¯d eagerly anticipated it, waiting for the day when he could watch through the eyes of his progeny as the works of mortals fell, and the gods fought to save the remains.

    He knew that this monster would eventually fall, but before it did, rivers of blood would flow.  The gods would know the pain of their precious mortals being slaughtered by the legion, they¡¯d know the pain of battle, as their flesh was shredded by fang and claw.  It was not the final battle he longed for, but it would hurt them, it would remind them that even in his prison he could reach them.  That would be enough, for now.

    So, he had waited, his patience devoted to that distant moment when his progeny would rampage.  Patience was not a part of his nature, but it was something he had learned over the ages of his captivity.  So, he had waited.

    And now . . . it was gone!

    He had felt it as the work upon his bloodline had come undone.  Ensuring that the demigod born of his lineage would be the beast he desired had been difficult, but not impossible.  Aspects of the blood had been strengthened, others weakened, all to ensure the birth of a monster.  It had been tied to him, his blood ensuring the ascendance of bestiality over humanity, so he had felt it when all his work came undone.

    Those glowing embers flared into life then, rage such as he had not known since Prometheus was still free burning up in his heart as he roared and struggled!  Above him, the mountain creaked and groaned but held despite his greatest efforts.  Even so, he continued to thrash, stone breaking into shards that cut into his flesh, drawing blood like magma from his dark skin.  The pain only served to enrage him further though, and he howled into the darkness of his prison.

    Who had done this?!  Who had destroyed his plan?!  Those words echoed in his mind, the only coherent thoughts amidst an ocean of bloodlust and fury.  He wanted to lash out, to crush the one that had foiled him, to make them suffer, to feed on their entrails, to hear their screams of pain!

    Locked in his prison, Typhon of the Titans raged impotently.

 Chapter 14: Choices and Opportunities: Chapter One

    Chapter 14: Choices and Opportunities

    The first thing that I noticed as I came round, was that my hand hurt.  My broken wing seemed to have healed, even though it still ached a bit, but it was my hand that hurt.

    That might have had something to do with the inch-long thorns driven into my flesh, as well as the death grip my bleeding hand had on the vine.  Between the punctures and the exhausted muscles, I was unable to make my fingers release, I had to reach over with my other hand and gently pry each finger open.  Carefully pulling those thorns out of my palm was . . . interesting.  It should have hurt more, but a combination of my improved body and the leftover adrenaline kept it down to a dull ache.

    As soon as I¡¯d gotten my hand free, I took a moment to look around myself and take stock of the situation.

    The clearing was a mess, no two ways about it.  The grass that had once covered it was either torn up by the fight or covered by the blanket of oversized brambles.  The torn-up earth had also been reduced to little more than a muddy bog.  On top of that, more than a few trees had been knocked over by the fight.

    But that was all background information, meaningless compared to the main detail I immediately focused on.

    Where was Etienne?

    His body should have been looming over me like a beached whale, and he should have still been wrapped in the thorny vines I¡¯d restrained him with.  Instead, there was no sign of the bound monster.  The mass of brambles just lay there, covering the ground like a discarded blanket.  Right before me was the spot where one of his tentacles had been, the one that I¡¯d grabbed in order to make contact, but there was nothing but mud and brambles.  Staggering to my feet I took another look around the clearing, trying to make sense of what was going on.

    The movement made me acutely aware that it wasn¡¯t just my hand that hurt, the rest of me wasn¡¯t in great shape either.  My head felt as though my halo had rebelled as was trying to crush my skull.  It wasn¡¯t as sharp as the pain in my palm had been, but just about my whole body seemed to be suffering from the sorts of dull pain I was normally happy for Joan to be able to heal.  I felt as though Hadriel had just been using me as a punching bag.  It went even deeper than just the muscles though, as I could feel my internal channels of power throbbing as magic passed through them.  Earlier I¡¯d pushed myself further than I ever had, and now I was paying the price.

    But truthfully, it was better than I had feared.  I remembered that horrible moment when I hadn¡¯t been able to move after being hit by one of Etienne¡¯s tentacles.  Sure, I¡¯d been able to push through it, but even in my most serious sparring matches, I¡¯d never felt that . . . broken before.  I¡¯d been afraid that after this fight I¡¯d find myself crippled somehow, so feeling sore was a pretty good result as far as I was concerned.

    Just then I noticed I was almost as much of a mess as the clearing around me.  The shirt I¡¯d modified was ruined, torn, mud-stained, and barely hanging together.  My trousers had fared only slightly better, both knees being ripped open and the rest of them caked in mud.  Still, they¡¯d held together, just about.

    Taking another look around the clearing didn¡¯t reveal anything else, and I wondered if the other demigod had regained consciousness first and just left.  It was a good sign that he hadn¡¯t eaten me while I was out cold.  Not doing so probably meant that I¡¯d managed to help him somehow.  On the other hand, what did it mean that he¡¯d just left like that?  He¡¯d been screaming some pretty . . . dark stuff, might it have persisted even after whatever I managed?

    A groan from the centre of the clearing caught me by surprise and made me spin in place to try to find the source of the sound.  Even though I was using magic to hover a bit off the ground my body still ached, and the sudden movement made my vision swim for a moment.

    The groan had come from what I¡¯d previously thought to be just a clump of the brambles I¡¯d grown.  Since it was too small to possibly be Etienne, I¡¯d assumed that the lump was where the blanket of vines had fallen over a boulder, or some uprooted bush.  Now though, the clump was moving, and the groan had become words.  Irritated French words which I could understand, even though the link I¡¯d used earlier seemed to be gone.

    ¡°Wretched plants, get out of my way!¡±

    The voice was familiar, even though it sounded different.  Before I had time to think about it anymore the hump in the blanket of leaves and vines shook, then parted as a bare arm forced its way out into the late afternoon sunlight.

    A bare and distinctly human arm.

    It was pale, almost ghostly, but it was human, well-muscled, and energetic as its hand was joined by another in pushing the vines aside.  Unsure of what else to do I gently floated over to get a better look, not making any sudden movements since I didn¡¯t want to startle . . . whoever this was.

    A head and shoulder came out of the cleared hole, the movements those of someone who had been lying down and was now sitting up.  The face that turned towards me was unquestionably Etienne¡¯s, but it looked far different from when I had seen it before.

    Like his arms he was pale, but aside from that he looked to be well.  The gauntness had filled out, and the bulges and lumps that had previously marred his face were gone.  The grotesque growths on his body also seemed to have disappeared, leaving a perfectly proportioned athletic frame behind.  His recovery seemed to have left Etienne looking in good shape.   Even his hair was revitalized, the dull and greasy grey having been replaced by a rich dark brown colour.

    ¡°Etienne?¡±

    At my question, his deep brown eyes focused on me with disconcerting intensity.

    ¡°You . . . you¡¯re Adam, right?¡±

    ¡°Uh . . . yeah, that¡¯s me.¡±

    He nodded, then started to struggle free of the blanket of vines.  The thorns didn¡¯t seem to bother him, as he gripped at the stems without caring about them.  I was sure that I saw some of them pierce his hand, but there was no blood, and he seemed to be in no pain.  This left my mind though, as soon as Etienne fully made his way out of the brambles and stood up.

    I had thought that he was back to normal, but I was wrong.  Below his waist, he was unquestionably inhuman, yet it didn¡¯t seem as unnatural as the monstrosity he¡¯d been a part of before.  His lower body was every bit as alien as his earlier state had been, but somehow it didn¡¯t feel as wrong.

    Starting just below his navel the French demigod resembled a strange combination of snake, kraken, and centipede.  In a way, it was reminiscent of the monster he had been, but where that creature had made me think of growth gone rampant, this new version was something else.

    In lots of ways, it reminded me of a Naga from Hindu mythology, a man with a serpent¡¯s tail in place of his legs.  As Etienne freed himself, he revealed a long length of flesh and muscle at least four metres long.  However, what Etienne now balanced on was nothing as simple as a snake¡¯s body.  There was some likeness, the sinuous way it moved, and the fine scales of its underbelly were definitely those of a snake.  But the interlocking plates of thick chitin that protected the back and sides of the serpentine body were insectile in appearance.  Added to that were the dozens of smaller tentacles that emerged from the sides of the snake-like body, further putting me in mind of the length a centipede.

    Of course, the multilimbed length was not the only addition he had received.  At his waist, emerging at the sides where his hipbones would have been, were two long and thick tentacles.  Again, they were similar in appearance to the ones that the monster had used against me, and they seemed strong, given how Etienne was resting on them as he drew himself up, taking stock of his changed appearance.

    He looked inhuman, but at the same time it didn¡¯t look wrong on him.  More than that though, he also looked healthy, vibrant in fact.  He might not have regained his humanity, at least not completely, but he looked vastly more vital and self-possessed than when he¡¯d been trapped in that monster¡¯s flesh.

    For a moment he just stood there, resting on the two thick tendrils and the snake-like centipede¡¯s tail, looking down at himself, staring at his hands as his fingers clenched and unclenched.  He didn¡¯t look angry.  If anything, he looked bemused, as though he had no idea of how he was meant to react to this.  Then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine again.

    ¡°Did . . . did you do this?¡±

    Did he mean had I turned him into this?  Or that I¡¯d freed him from the monster?  I wasn¡¯t sure, so I just told him what I knew for sure.

    ¡°I . . . there was something wrong with . . . with your power,¡± I explained, deciding to keep things as simple as I could. ¡°There were blocks, broken bits that were rotting because they couldn¡¯t move right.  I . . . I fixed them, made them so they could move like they were meant to.  I couldn¡¯t see what they were meant to do, but it felt like it was better than just leaving them all to rot away, y¡¯know?¡±

    As far as I was concerned, I was speaking English, but clearly, he understood me without issue since he just nodded slowly in return.

    ¡°I feel better now,¡± he commented, his voice somewhat absent. ¡°I feel awake, in control.¡±

    One of the tentacles that had been helping him balance came up, the end waving in his face as he stared at it.  Beneath him his serpentine length adjusted to support his weight, keeping him balanced.

    ¡°I did that,¡± he said, gesturing at the tentacle with one hand. ¡°Before . . . I couldn¡¯t do anything.  It all just moved with the hunger.  Sometimes I could suggest some stuff, but most of the time it just dragged me along and there was nothing I could do about it.  but this . . .¡±

    The tentacle waved from side to side, then curled up, then opened up to reveal the hidden claws before closing up again.

    ¡°I did that!  Me!  I¡¯m in control of myself!  ME!  I¡¯m in control!!!¡±

    His face split in a wild grin as he suddenly turned to fully face me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it inside me anymore!  No more screaming at me to eat!  To kill!  I¡¯m free of it now!  I¡¯M FREE!¡±

    I think that he might have lunged at me to hug me, that was how exultant he looked.  Instead whatever he intended to do was foiled as he turned too quickly, and one of his new limbs slipped into the carpet of brambles beneath him and caught on something.  Watching him trip was very odd, given his inhuman lower half.

    The caught tendril pulled tight like a rope, causing him to jerk to the side with a yelp of surprise.  Maybe he could have recovered, but he reached over with the other tendril, maybe falling back on old reflexes from before his awakening.  Doing so put too much weight on one side of his body and he wasn¡¯t able to compensate in time.  His earlier yelp was followed by a second as he tipped over, the smaller tendril legs running along his snake-like lower half uselessly grabbing at the air as he fell.

    For a moment all I could do was stare.  It might sound strange, but the sight of Etienne¡¯s inhuman form falling was kind of like watching a car crash, there was something darkly fascinating about it.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    The question felt inane, but I had to ask it.

    ¡°Y-Yeah.  I . . . I¡¯m fine.  I just- ouup!¡±

    The other demigod¡¯s words were cut off as he tried to rise, only for one of his tentacles to again go out from under him as it slipped in the still-wet mud.  Without really thinking about it I moved forwards, my feet floating only a centimetre above the mud and vines, offering my hand to help Etienne regain his . . . well, ¡®feet¡¯ wasn¡¯t the correct term, since he didn¡¯t have any, but it was close enough.  It was the polite and considerate thing to do, but even as his hand closed on mine, I realized it was also the stupid thing to do.  I was in the range of any attack he might choose to use, and worse, he had a grip on me if he wanted it.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    He didn¡¯t try to attack me though.  Instead, he just accepted my help in regaining his balance, the thick tendrils propping him up until he was ¡®standing¡¯ once more.

    ¡°Okay.  Okay, I think I¡¯ve got this.¡±  He muttered, glaring down at his new limbs as though they¡¯d deliberately tripped him up.

    I felt a surge of sympathy, recalling how I¡¯d similarly glared at my wings several times.  Etienne had it worse than me though.  At least I¡¯d kept all of my familiar limbs and just ended up with some additions.  He¡¯d gotten stuck with major changes for more than half his body.  That couldn¡¯t be easy to deal with.  Glancing around I pointed to the nearest of the fallen trees, at a spot where the trunk was relatively clear.  It wasn¡¯t much, but it made for a better seat than just sitting down in the mud.

    ¡°Look, we¡¯ve got to talk.  Do you want a seat?¡±

    ¡°I . . . yes.  I think that¡¯d be a good idea.¡± He agreed.

    Getting him over to the fallen trunk wasn¡¯t too hard, just a bit slow.  Once we got there it took him a moment to work out just how he could sit down, but figured it out quickly enough.

    ¡°It¡¯s weird,¡± he admitted as he took his seat, the tentacles emerging from his hips pressing against the trunk to give him greater security. ¡°When I¡¯m not thinking about what I¡¯m doing then I¡¯ve got no trouble.  But as soon as I do something goes wrong.  It¡¯s like I¡¯m getting in my own way when I think about it.¡±

    ¡°I know exactly what you mean,¡± I admitted, waving a wing behind me. ¡°It took me days before I got a handle on these guys after I ended up with them.  I almost cut my bed in two more than once.  Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get the hang of it, just give it some time.¡±

    ¡°So . . . how long have you been a demigod?¡± He asked, looking up at my wing.

    ¡°It¡¯s been about a month now,¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯m still trying to get my head around it, having magic, being able to do . . . all of this new stuff.  I keep on thinking that I¡¯m going to wake up and find out that it¡¯s all just some kind of dream.  Then I get hit during training and realize it¡¯s all real.¡±

    It was a weak joke, but it managed to get a small smile on his face.

    ¡°Training?  Did you have help?  Do you still have help?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I got lucky,¡± I confessed. ¡°I got found by someone before I even knew I was a demigod.  She told me people were looking for me, people that weren¡¯t looking to do me anything good.  She helped me get ready for my Awakening, then protected me when these demon things tried to drag me off while I was getting my powers, which ended up being a whole mess.¡±

    ¡°Sounds rough,¡± Etienne commented. ¡°But . . . do you know who you¡¯re descended from?¡±

    That was an awkward question to answer.  I knew that I was descended from several sources, but it wasn¡¯t something I wanted to spread.  As far as I knew the most anyone had shown so far was a convergence of two Legacies in a single person, but I was double that.  On top of that, I knew that his ancestry had brought him nothing but pain, so it was probably a sore topic.  I decided to keep it simple and use the only name I knew I was descended from.

    ¡°I¡¯m descended from Bath Kol, one of the Archangels.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a lie, but it left out a whole load of the truth, but for now, it was going to have to do.

    ¡°Ah, that makes sense.¡±

    The other demigod nodded as he looked at me.

    ¡°The wings are kind of a hint, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    To emphasize my words I spread them slightly, barely suppressing a wince as I felt a twinge of pain in the wing that had been broken.  It had healed, but it was still pretty tender.  They only seemed to hurt when I moved them though, so as long as I was careful with them I should be okay until they finished getting back to a hundred percent.

    ¡°They¡¯re beautiful.¡±

    As soon as he said it Etienne¡¯s eyes fell, and he looked a bit . . . shy?  Bashful?  Embarrassed?  Envious?  I did my best to lighten the mood by giving a short laugh in response.

    ¡°Heh heh.  Yeah, but like I said, they can be inconvenient.¡±

    Silence descended upon us once more, an awkward silence.  In the end, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the same thing I¡¯d asked a few minutes ago.

    ¡°Look, are you okay?¡±

    This time Etienne didn¡¯t answer as readily as before.  Instead, his eyes fell to his lap as his fingers interlaced and squeezed.

    ¡°I . . . I¡¯m not sure,¡± He admitted. ¡°I¡¯m in control, you know?  For the first time in weeks I can do what I want, but . . . what do I do now?  I . . . I just want to go home, but at the same time I don¡¯t.¡±

    He paused looking at me with wide, almost pleading, eyes.  It was as though he was silently begging me to understand, to be able to just get what he meant even as he started to ramble.

    ¡°I mean, look at me!  I look like something that came out of a horror film!  Do you think that I¡¯ll just be able to just go back to my normal life?  Do you think that I can just go back to my family, just go back home?  How¡¯ll that go for them?  How¡¯ll they be able to handle it?  I . . . I can¡¯t even go back to my room!  I . . . I won¡¯t even fit onto my bed anymore!¡±

    He seemed to run out of steam as he came to realize just how difficult the situation was.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to stay away, but . . . where can I go?  I can¡¯t go home, can I?  What . . . what should I do?¡±

    ¡°I . . . I guess you could come back with me if you want.¡±

    The suggestion more or less popped out on its own.  I¡¯d just wanted to offer some sort of comfort to someone that clearly overwhelmed by their situation.  There wasn¡¯t any real thought behind it, but the more I considered it the more it began to make sense.

    Etienne needed time.  Time to get comfortable with his new self.  Time to get a handle on any new powers he might have.  Time to deal with what had happened to him.  The simple fact that he hadn¡¯t just curled up into a ball and been reduced to a sobbing mess spoke of his mental fortitude.  I¡¯d only been able to sense some of what he¡¯d endured through our link, and even that had been horrifying.

    Also, if he came back with me then Joan and Hadriel might be able to help him.  They¡¯d be able to train him, to make him strong, and that could work to his advantage as well as mine.

    A plan, or at least the framework of a plan, started to form in my mind.  If Etienne went home now then I couldn¡¯t see things going well for him.  Even if his family could accept him there was a good chance that the people around him would be less rational.  If things went badly then it could lead to anything from a media circus to a riot or a witch hunt against him.  However, if he came with me he might have a better chance.

    ¡°Huh?  What do you mean?¡±

    His question broke me out of my thoughts as I looked back at him.  His eyes were wide, and for a moment he looked . . . younger than he had, more vulnerable.  I resolved to be careful in how I answered him, it would be all too easy to break the glimmer of hope I could see in him.

    ¡°Yeah.  You know I said that I had people training me?  Well, I don¡¯t see why they couldn¡¯t do the same for you.  They . . . I don¡¯t know, maybe they can help you get your power under control, or at least show you how to use it better.¡±

    I saw a flash of something scared and hurt in him and realized I might have made a mistake.  Calling his control into question when it had to be a huge sore spot, hadn¡¯t been smart.  Right now, it had to be something of a trauma, not something you poked at.

    ¡°If nothing else, think of it as a place to take some time to just get yourself sorted out,¡± I continued quickly. ¡°We¡¯ve got some spare rooms, and plenty of food too.  I . . . I don¡¯t know how things are going to be soon, but you should be fine for the next day or two, at least.  After that . . . we can work things out.  At the absolute worst I could just bring you back here, if you want.¡±

    For a moment I considered telling him that one of my guardians was Joan of Arc.  But telling him that didn¡¯t feel right.  It felt as though I was using her reputation to manipulate him.  I wanted him to think about this on its own merits, not on who he¡¯d be working with if he went with it.

    ¡°I¡¯m . . . I¡¯m not sure,¡± He admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t . . . I don¡¯t know what I want to do.  I¡¯ve got stuff . . . stuff I¡¯ve got to work through and . . . I don¡¯t know if I want anyone there while I do it.¡±

    I could see something firming in his eyes, but there was also something else.  I could feel it, something that wouldn¡¯t let go of him, and it wasn¡¯t something I was seeing on his face or in his stance.  Instead, it was coming through the link between us.  It was faint, faded from what it had been, but the fact that I could still understand his French as easily as I did English proved the link was still there.  Maybe it was letting me pick up on his emotions somehow?  Still, I wanted a bit more clarification.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Etienne was silent for a little bit, his eyes looking up at me, then dropping to his where his pale hands flexed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I want to go anywhere yet,¡± He tried to explain. ¡°I . . . things got ugly here.  Not just with the hunger swallowing me up, there was also . . . things that happened.  I . . . I don¡¯t think I want to leave until I feel like I¡¯m ready . . . until I¡¯ve got everything settled.  Does that make sense?  And . . . I¡¯m not sure how long it¡¯ll take.¡±

    I nodded, his reluctance and inner conflict easy to see.

    ¡°Will you be alright?  I mean, what are you going to do for food and shelter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a place,¡± Etienne replied. ¡°I . . . I was staying there while I was . . . before, but it¡¯s big, so I¡¯m sure there are some smaller caves and stuff I can use.  It¡¯s dry there, and since it¡¯s summer I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve got to worry about the cold.  Food¡¯s easy too, I know where there are some plants I can eat, and hunting shouldn¡¯t be too hard, not now.¡±

    As he spoke his arm snapped out, the speed impressive, and a chunk of the trunk we were sitting on vanished into splinters, the wood completely pulverized.

    ¡°I think I can handle finding something to eat.  And if worst comes to worst . . . well, I can always head into town.¡± He said, a combination of bravado and confidence creeping into his voice.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I replied. ¡°But are you sure that¡¯s what you want to do?¡±

    Etienne was strong, that was clear.  But right now he was unsteady, still trying to find his mental balance after what he¡¯d gone through.  If he was here alone then he might be alright, but he might also end up stuck in memories of his worst times without anyone to pull him out.

    Beyond that, it just seemed like something of a waste.  He was the first fellow demigod I¡¯d ever encountered, and he was just going to stay out in the woods?  I knew that the feeling was at least partially selfish, but I wanted him to come with me.  It would be nice to have someone with me, someone else learning to use their powers, someone else learning about the Legends.

    I also genuinely felt that joining me would be a better option than him just hiding in the woods with only his own thoughts for company.  It wasn¡¯t as though I was planning to drag him onto a stage in the middle of some major city and then throw him to the press.  But with just me, Joan, and Hadriel it would be easy enough for him to have some solitude without being just cut off from everyone.

    Still, it wasn¡¯t my choice to make.

    ¡°Look, how about this,¡± I offered. ¡°I¡¯m still tired, so I won¡¯t be going anywhere for a bit if I can help it.  So, why don¡¯t you take some time, think things over on your own, see how you feel about things?  I can wait here for a couple of hours or so, so don¡¯t feel too rushed.  If you want to come with me, then I¡¯ll be here, if not there¡¯ll be no hard feelings from me, okay?¡±

    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to leave?  What if I want to stay here until . . . until I think I¡¯m ready to leave?¡±

    Etienne¡¯s voice was small, quiet, almost as though he didn¡¯t want me to hear him.

    ¡°Then that¡¯s fine,¡± I replied, trying to be as sincere and confident as I could manage. ¡°That¡¯s your choice to make, and you don¡¯t have to worry about me pressuring you or anything.  Still . . . I don¡¯t want you to just disappear, you know?  Can we work out some way for you to get in contact if you change your mind?¡±

    A wry smile crossed his face as he gestured to his unclothed state, then waved at my own battered condition.

    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t just exchange phone numbers, so what can we do?¡±

    ¡°Where would you go first if you went back to . . . to town?¡±

    ¡°Um . . . home I guess,¡± He answered. ¡°I want to see my family again, let them know I¡¯m alive.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so why don¡¯t you give me their address?  With that, I can get in touch with them fairly easily, once I¡¯ve got access to the internet or phones.  I¡¯m not sure when it¡¯ll be, but I can¡¯t imagine it being longer than another couple of weeks.  Once I do, I can ring them up, and see if they¡¯ve heard from you.  What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I . . . suppose it could work,¡± He agreed slowly. ¡°But how would I get back in touch with you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°Things are a bit crazy at the moment.  I don¡¯t know what¡¯ll be going on in the next few days, but I think that we¡¯ll be moving.  Hopefully, it will be somewhere I can get access to some computers, but I don¡¯t know when that¡¯ll be.  As soon as I can contact your family, I¡¯ll tell how to contact me, and they can pass it on.  From there . . . well, let¡¯s see how things go, okay?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the best plan, but it was simple.  The address Etienne gave me was easy enough to remember, but just to be sure I found a short stick and scratched it into the side.  It wasn¡¯t as comfortable as carrying a paper version, but it still fitted into my one remaining pocket.

    ¡°So . . . if I don¡¯t come back . . . ?¡±

    The question was hesitant, more as though he was asking for my permission than for my opinion.

    ¡°If that¡¯s what you think you need, then that¡¯s fine,¡± I tried to reassure him as best as I could. ¡°If you want to come with me, that¡¯s great, but if you want to take your time then I understand.  You¡¯ve got to do what you think works best for you, so no pressure, alright?¡±

    ¡°I . . .  Thanks.¡±

    His relief was practically palpable at not having to choose in a hurry.  I¡¯d offered him time, and that seemed to be what he most desperately wanted at the moment.

    ¡°Take what time you need,¡± I replied.  ¡°I¡¯ll wait here.  I could do with some time to catch my breath.¡±

    I glanced around myself, taking in the ruin of the clearing in the wake of our fight.  No feather mattress or silk sheets, but it was going to have to do.

    ¡°I . . . okay,¡± Etienne nodded to both me and himself as his new lower half slithered, bringing him off the trunk. ¡°I¡¯ll . . . I¡¯ll try and work out what I want.¡±

    Just before he entered the treeline he turned back, his eyes meeting mine again.

    ¡°Listen.  Even . . . even if I don¡¯t come back, even if I don¡¯t take your offer . . . thank you.  If . . . if it hadn¡¯t been for you, I¡¯d . . . I¡¯d still be trapped, being swallowed up by that monster.  So . . . thank you, thank you for saving me.  If I don¡¯t come back . . . well, at least I¡¯m not a monster anymore, I¡¯m just me now.  That¡¯s got to be better, right?  So, thanks.¡±

    He was absolutely sincere, and I couldn¡¯t help smiling at him.  He smiled in return, then turned and disappeared into the trees.  His movements were smooth and graceful, so it looked as though he was getting a handle on his new limbs at least.

    Glancing up at the sky I let out a sigh as I tried to think of how I could fill the next couple of hours.  For a moment I considered looking for my lost spell vial, but then dismissed the idea.

    I was tired, and I probably wasn¡¯t going to need it before I got back to the farmhouse.  Sure, it had some magic, but it wasn¡¯t as though I was losing a flaming sword or something like that.  I was just going to take this time to rest recover, and get myself ready to go back.

 Chapter 14: Choices and Opportunities: Chapter Two

    Despite the thoughts crowding about in his head Etienne couldn¡¯t help but feel a thrill pass through his body as he moved through the forest.

    He wasn¡¯t going as fast as he had when he was a monster, but now he was smaller, his limbs shorter, so he wasn¡¯t covering as much space as he had before.  Instead, he slithered along the ground, his lower half long enough and heavy enough to let his torso remain at more or less standing height as he moved along.  The small tendrils on the side aided in his movements, stabilizing him in ways that a serpentine form would not normally have been able to manage.  They kept him from tipping over, despite the weight difference his human form provided.

    However, none of that mattered to him right then.  Instead, he was focused on his freedom, the sheer joy of being able to want to go somewhere, and then being able to do it, his own body not fighting him every second.  As he¡¯d said to Adam, it was easier when he didn¡¯t think about it, when he just let his instincts do the driving.  He was slowly starting to understand how his new form was meant to move, but it would be a while before he was used to it.

    Still, all of that was secondary to the main issue he was mentally working on.  Should he take Adam¡¯s offer?

    Did he even deserve to?  That was the question that plagued him.  Etienne knew he hadn¡¯t been in control of himself, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that he was a murderer.  That man, those hikers, even the elf girl, the one with the wings that he¡¯d torn before he ate her.  They¡¯d been people with thoughts and feelings, just unlucky enough to cross his path when the hunger was in control.  Yes, the elf girl had attacked him, tried to kill him even, but she¡¯d been scared, desperate, and he¡¯d eaten her alive.

    They¡¯d just been normal people, even the elf girl had been a person, and he had killed them all.  Four lives on his conscience.

    Did . . . did he deserve any happiness after that?  It wasn¡¯t a thought he liked, but it wasn¡¯t one he could get rid of either.

    Of course, what were his other options?  It wasn¡¯t as though he could turn himself in.  This kind of situation . . . it wasn¡¯t something the law had ever been designed to handle.  He didn¡¯t want lawyers or debate.  He wanted . . .

    In all truth, he knew what he wanted, he just had no idea how to get it!  He wanted absolution, to no longer feel as though some terrible guilt was weighing down on him! The problem was that he had no idea how to achieve it.  Rambling, almost nonsensical thoughts ran through his mind as he thought about it, notions inspired by everything from his schoolboy history lessons to comic books that he¡¯d once read.

    He thought about somehow tracking down any family the elf girl might have had and swearing his service to them as some sort of compensation like some knight in a fairy tale.  He thought of going to the French government, paying for his absolution by somehow helping the country.  He thought about becoming a hermit, living out here in the woods away from anyone.  He even thought about becoming some sort of masked hero, after all, he had the powers, so why not?  It was all just a jumble of random thoughts banging against each other as they rattled around in his head.

    The young demigod turned a corner and came out of his thoughts as he realized where he was.  Without meaning to he¡¯d come back to the ruins where he¡¯d been living these past months.  He wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d come here.  Maybe it was just habit, maybe some part of him wanted to see this place, now that he had control over himself.  Whatever the case, he now stood before the cave-like entrance to the underground ruins.

    It seemed so much larger now.  Before he had been merged with a creature larger than a trio of elephants combined, now he was more human-sized again he could appreciate just how large the passageways were.  Absently he moved deeper into the ruins, distracting himself from his turbulent thoughts by marvelling at his new perspective.

    It wasn¡¯t so easy though, despite the ancient architecture around him Etienne could not keep his mind from returning to what Adam had offered him again and again.

    Should he go with him?  On the face of it, the offer was a good deal.  Adam was powerful, and he said he had allies.  Etienne knew that he was on his own in this, so joining another group, no matter how small it might be, could only benefit him.  Sure, he didn¡¯t know as much as he¡¯d like to, but it wasn¡¯t like he was drowning in options.

    The young Frenchman also had to consider the position his new appearance put him in.  His new form was infinitely preferable to being slowly consumed by the monster growing from his hunger, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that he still looked strangely alien.  As he had left the clearing Etienne had tried to see if he had any sort of shapeshifting abilities, anything that would allow him to regain human form, but hadn¡¯t been able to find anything.  His powers were far more responsive now, enough so that he could feel a couple of knots of power hovering at the back of his mind.

    He knew what they were by pure instinct.  One of them felt like contained power, a way to give himself a surge of temporary enhanced strength, surpassing even what he already had.  The other one was more nebulous, but there was a sense of ¡®more¡¯ to it, a sense of ¡®bigger¡¯, ¡®louder¡¯, ¡®harder¡¯, ¡®better¡¯.  Neither power seemed to suit what he wanted, neither of them let him change or conceal what he was.

    If he were to go into any town or city what was the best he could hope for?  Maybe people wouldn¡¯t attack him immediately, giving him a chance to explain that he wasn¡¯t a monster.  But even if that happened, he did not expect that he¡¯d just be treated normally.  Realistically he couldn¡¯t expect better than kind pity, being treated as the poor freak that had rolled rock bottom when he got his powers.  More likely he¡¯d just be shunned, seen as a potential danger, a monster yet to run wild.

    The most likely outcome was that he would just be attacked as soon as he was spotted.  He didn¡¯t know how things had changed while he¡¯d been hiding in the forest, but when he¡¯d left people had been scared.  The first appearances of monsters had cost lives, in some cases entire small towns had to be abandoned.  What if things had grown worse?  If turned up in any sort of city or town would he have demigods coming to kill him?

    For a moment Etienne wondered if they¡¯d even be able to kill him.  Before, back when he¡¯d been a part of the monster, he¡¯d wondered if anything could kill him.  His own desperate efforts hadn¡¯t been able to, and Adam¡¯s frantic attacks hadn¡¯t been able to.  Now . . . now he was different, smaller, slower, maybe he was weaker?  He still healed as fast, he knew it instinctively, but would that be enough in a fight?

    It didn¡¯t matter, he didn¡¯t want to fight.  He didn¡¯t want to hurt anyone.

    He didn¡¯t want to be alone anymore.

    Sighing Etienne turned back to face the distant daylight entering the ruins.  He¡¯d moved in deeper than he thought he had, the brightness of the outside was surprisingly far off.  He noted that the darkness didn¡¯t bother him, he could see through it without difficulty, but it was an absent thought.  He was focused on trying to understand what it was that he wanted, beyond paying for what he¡¯d done, beyond enjoying the freedom he now possessed.  What was it he wanted?

    He wanted to go home.  That was it, that was what he wanted at the deepest core of his heart.  He wanted to go home, go back to the life he¡¯d once thought was boring, go back to the parents that had once nagged him, the siblings that he¡¯d been quietly jealous of.  That humble, bland life, he desperately wanted it back!

    But he knew that was impossible.  Even if he wasn¡¯t a monster, he was still monstrous.  It was a bitter pill to swallow, but one he had to stomach.  He needed to prove himself, to get himself positively into the public eye if he wanted to change that.  It struck him as a slightly cold-blooded way to look at it, but he realized that if he wanted to survive as anything other than a pitied freak then he was going to have to pick his course carefully.

    Slowly he began to make his way back to the mouth of the cave, his mind mulling things over.

    In the end, he¡¯d already made his decision.  Going with Adam was the best choice, the only option that would let him work to redeem himself and give him a chance to one day see his family without being a burden on them.  The winged demigod . . . there was something about him that made Etienne wonder if their meeting was more than just random chance.  Adam had said he had people that were training him, allies that would work with him in the future.  He hadn¡¯t said much, but even that little bit spoke volumes, it said that he had backers, backers powerful enough to spare people who could train someone as powerful as the white-haired demigod.

    Of course, he might be reading it all wrong, but in the end, did it really matter?  Adam seemed like a decent guy.  He certainly wasn¡¯t afraid to fight, and he seemed to have understood what had happened to Etienne and not hold it against him.  Adam had offered to let him join come with him, and that had to be worth something, right?

    And Etienne didn¡¯t want to be alone again.

    His conviction firmed up as he made his choice.  He¡¯d go back to Adam and accept his offer.  From there . . . well, he¡¯d have to see how things went.  But it couldn¡¯t be as bad as being a prisoner to his own body, he was sure of that.

    He slithered out into the light, looking up to see where the sun was.  It didn¡¯t seem to have moved far, so he couldn¡¯t have been in the ruins that long.  It shouldn¡¯t be too hard to get back to the clearing, to meet Adam and-

    ¡°Ah, there you are.  I knew you¡¯d come back here eventually.¡±

    The words had been in perfect French, but there had been an accent to them that he couldn¡¯t place.  It was light, but distinctive at the same time.  The voice itself came from behind him and was so unexpected that he instinctively rose on his serpentine body, twisting around to face the speaker even as the smaller tendrils spread and the main two rose into a ready position.

    The speaker was a young woman, in her early twenties at a guess.  She was dressed oddly, wearing the bright orange overalls of a factory worker.  The front was unzipped to reveal a tight tank top underneath, one that displayed an athletic build with generous cleavage.  Still, it wasn¡¯t her strange choice of clothing that was the most eye-catching thing about her.  That was her hair.

    Her bright emerald green hair.

    At first, Etienne had thought it was an impressive dye job.  This woman¡¯s hair seemed to shine in the afternoon sun in the sort of way that most professional models would have been willing to shed blood for.

    Then she¡¯d moved, and he realised that her hair was too shiny.  It was reflecting the light as though it were a mirror.  The demigod blinked in surprise as he put it together.  Her hair wasn¡¯t just normal hair follicles, rather it was as though each strand was composed of incredibly flexible emerald glass.  It was a beautiful sight, but in a way, it was every bit as inhuman as his own lower limbs.

    Her face was pretty, the sort that he¡¯d have expected from a young woman serving as the ¡®face¡¯ of some business for an advert.  The reassuring and attractive look they wished to associate with their business.  She had high cheekbones, a small nose, and vivid blue eyes.  All in all, she was striking, her strange appearance making her eye-catching and memorable.

    Her eyes though . . .  no, more than that.  The way that she was looking at him . . . it was so cold and detached, she looked bored.

    ¡°And what¡¯s happened to you?¡± She asked the question but obviously expected no answer. ¡°The scrying showed you much bigger than this, more rampant . . .  Did you manage to force yourself back to stability?¡±

    She paused for a moment, then gave a small shrug.

    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t really matter.  You¡¯ll work just fine either way.¡±

    There was nothing overtly threatening about her.  She didn¡¯t glare, she didn¡¯t tense up, she didn¡¯t go for a weapon.  But something changed about her, something that screamed at Etienne.  One moment she was an oddly out-of-place figure, the next she was a threat, a predator, a danger.  All his instincts yelled at him to either flee or attack, but not to just stand there.

    The Frenchman chose to run.  Whoever this was he didn¡¯t want to hurt her, not now that he had control.  Maybe she was a threat, but he¡¯d be happy to just get away.  He didn¡¯t want to fight, not yet, not when he didn¡¯t know what the stakes were or how it affected him.  He felt his muscles bunch, his new appendages getting ready to propel him backwards, away from this strange and scary woman.  If he was fast then he could lose her in the trees, get back to Adam, and-

    ¡°Oh no, none of that.¡±

    She spoke as though addressing a disobedient child, and all she did was hold up one hand as though to chide him, but in the instant she did so Etienne felt every muscle in his body suddenly lock up.  He couldn¡¯t move, not a finger, not a tendril, not even an eyelid!  He just stood there, as still as if he had just been turned into stone!

    And he screamed!

    Inside his own flesh, a prisoner again in his own body, he screamed and thrashed, and railed against whatever was holding him.  He felt his heart pounding in his chest, forcing the blood through his veins, trying to grant him greater strength.  He strained, trying to break free, trying to move, trying to be free!

    A momentary look of surprise flitted across the woman¡¯s face, followed by mild irritation and then an expression of minor concentration.

    ¡°Oh?  Ah . . . ah, that was surprising,¡± For the first time she looked at the demigod before her as though she was seeing him, rather than seeing some minor task she had to fulfil. ¡°Not bad.  Not bad at all.  I can see why I was sent to get you.  You will be useful.¡±

    Get him?  She was here to take him somewhere?  Etienne¡¯s mind flashed back to things he¡¯d read on the internet, some of the rumours that had prompted him to run when he had.  There¡¯s been talk on the forums he¡¯d been a part of about demigods disappearing, there one day and gone the next.  Some people said that they got targeted by monsters, or that they ran away to try and make it big, or to go on adventures, or to find their divine source.  But one rumour that had persisted, despite being disparaged and ridiculed, was about some organization that was hunting for demigods before they got known.

    When the young demigod had begun to visibly mutate those rumours had scared him, and made him wonder if he might be kidnapped as well, given what was happening to him.  Was he one of those ¡®failed¡¯ demigods that were being quietly disposed of?  Or was he turning into a monster t be exploited?  So, he¡¯d run, run and hidden in the woods.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Now . . . was that what this woman was here for?  He was trapped, he was not in control, he was going to be taken!

    Again, he struggled, and again the only result was a momentary frown on the woman¡¯s face.  Nothing, that was what he was achieving, nothing!  He wasn¡¯t strong enough!  He wasn¡¯t powerful enough!  Without thinking about it, Etienne reached out the knots of power in his mind.  Maybe one of them could do something!  They made him stronger, right?  So maybe that could-

    ¡°Ah ah ah.¡± Again, the young woman spoke, addressing him as though she were scolding a child who had tried to grab sweets that were meant for later. ¡°None of that now.  I don¡¯t want things to get messy, after all.¡±

    It felt as though a hand of ice had suddenly clamped down over his entire mind!  He could feel his thoughts freeze, still there, still conscious, but trapped, unable to reach out further, unable to act.

    ¡°Come on now, it¡¯s time to get you back to your new home.¡±

    The sensation that followed those words was entirely tangible.  He could feel the wind pick up behind him, hear the strange electrical snap of arcing lightning, and see the flashes of light from behind him.  He didn¡¯t know what it was, but he could guess that it was some sort of portal or tunnel opening up.  Something to take him away, to make him disappear!

    Again, he struggled, struggled against the hold on his mind, struggled against the hold on his body!  He tried to call on his anger, the anger that had given him those bursts of strength in his fight with Adam.  He tried to use the unfamiliar muscles in his new limbs, he tried everything he could think of!  Everything!

    For a moment, just one moment, he thought he could feel his fingers move, felt his arm tremble.  Hope shot through him and he focused in on it, trying to push more, to break through, to-

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough!¡±  Again, her voice cut into his thoughts, just as the smothering feeling of power settled down on both his body and his mind. ¡°Holding you like that is more trouble than it''s worth.  Why don¡¯t you take a nap while we get you transported and processed, okay?¡±

    Despite the almost friendly tone of her voice, there was nothing gentle or polite about the suffocating pressure that suddenly pressed down on his mind.  Before he¡¯d felt as though he was trapped under heavy blankets, but now he felt as though he were being buried alive.  The thick cloying power rolled over him, and try as he might, he couldn¡¯t fight back.  He felt like a mammoth that had fallen in a tar pit, helpless, his strength useless.

    As the darkness started to creep in at the edges of his vision, he felt his sluggish thoughts turn towards Adam again.  Would he be alright?  Would this woman try to capture him as well?  Even as the world dimmed, he saw her move past him, toward the . . . whatever it was behind him.  Was she going through?  Did that mean she was only here for him?  Was Adam safe?

    The world spun, even as it darkened, and Etienne could feel himself falling into oblivion.  His last thought, before the darkness took him, was to wish that he¡¯d just accepted Adam¡¯s offer back in that clearing.  Why had he had to think about it?  why couldn¡¯t he have just accepted?

    It would have been nice, to have a friend again, to have someone he could trust.

    It would have been fun . . .

    It would have been . . .

    Then, there was only darkness.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I glanced down at my watch and was bemused at how well it had managed to hold up through this entire mess.  That arm it was on was healing up from being both beaten and cut up, and the sleeve was both torn and bloody.  But somehow, the watch had managed to make it through without anything worse than a couple of minor scratches on the strap.

    On the digital display, I could see the seconds inexorably marching by.  It had already been more than an hour, but there was no sign of Etienne.  I was more than prepared to wait for the full two hours, but as more time passed me by the more I suspected that he wouldn¡¯t be coming back.

    I knew that trying to clean myself was a losing battle, but I still wanted to do something.  As things stood my clothes were a write-off, torn and stained to the point of uselessness, and the rest of me wasn¡¯t much better.  I could feel the drying mud and blood on my skin, and in my hair, I could even taste it in my mouth.

    I was sore, and I was tired, but I was still able to muster up enough power to draw some relatively clean water together.  Maybe cleaning off my face and hands wasn¡¯t much, but it made me feel better.

    My magic channels still burned like exhausted muscles, but even so, I was able to use a thin trickle of power without hurting them.  Enough power to move a few rocks together into a ring.  Enough to make finding some decently dry twigs and branches and piling them between the rocks an easy task.  Enough to ignite the small pile and start a campfire.

    Soon enough I was able to telekinetically drag over a log I could use as a bench while I let the campfire¡¯s warmth soothe my tired body.

    I stayed there, letting the heat of the campfire pervade me as I felt my power working to heal me.  It was an odd sensation, one that I hadn¡¯t had much chance to experience before.  Any injuries I¡¯d received during training had been quickly healed by Joan, so no time or energy would be wasted, but now I could feel it as my magic ran through me, concentrating at the points I was most injured, relieving pain and mending damage.

    My eyes closed as my attention turned inwards, focusing in on where my magic and my chi were concentrating themselves.  I felt them both rushing to my head, interacting with the etheric connections between my brain and my halo.  To start with, those connections seemed to be inflamed and raw, but soon I felt the pain recede as they settled down.

    The pain didn¡¯t go away completely, but I felt better than before.  That was the way it was working across my entire body.  My spine, my arm, my ribs, my wing, all of them recovered, enough to be fully functional, but not enough to feel completely normal.

    After just over an hour I felt the flows of power beginning to settle down, the concentrations of my internal energies falling back to ¡®background¡¯ levels.  I came back to myself, surprised at how time seemed to have just flown by as I concentrated on my inner workings.

    But now, with no distractions left, I found my mind turning to a more disturbing topic.

    I¡¯d just had a fight.  A real one, not just some training spar, one where my foe had been doing their best to kill and eat me.  This hadn¡¯t been like the assault by the twisted animals, that had been more akin to extermination than it had been a real conflict.  Or at least it had been once I got myself ready.  Going against Etienne¡¯s monster had been . . . terrifying.

    After I was grounded I hadn¡¯t really had time to be too scared, not once I¡¯d lost all control over the fight.  My plan had failed, I¡¯d been caught on the ground, and all I could do was fight or die, I hadn¡¯t been able to spare any attention to realize how frightened I¡¯d been.

    Now I could feel the enormity of what I¡¯d gone through starting to bear down on me.  Almost against my will, I could see the fight being replayed in my mind, and I could see just how lucky I¡¯d been.  So many things could have gone wrong, just one mistake, just one hesitation, just one moment slower to react, and I would have been dead.

    I could see how it could have gone with disturbing clarity.  I could see where I would have been torn apart, where I would have been impaled on claws and talons, where I would have been dragged screaming into that maw and devoured.  I felt my body shake in a way that had nothing to do with the cold as I fully understood how close I¡¯d come to dying out here.

    Hell, I should have been dead.  If it hadn¡¯t been for that weird surge of power from my halo, then I would have been.  With my normal power, I would have easily been overwhelmed while stuck on the ground.  But then I¡¯d been stronger, able to use magic I¡¯d only imagined before.

    Like a drowning man finding a floating branch, I seized that idea, trying to drag my thoughts away from how close I came to my death.

    Where had that surge of power come from?  Well, I knew where it had come from, as I recalled how the halo had begun to hum, to let out a clear note like a bell that had just been struck, and then I¡¯d just been . . . stronger.  However, I didn¡¯t know why it had happened, or where it came from.  Joan had told me that, eventually, I¡¯d be able to use the halo as a means to increase my magical strength, but so far it had been more of a limiter to keep me from pushing myself too much

    Joan had also told me that the halo served as training wheels, helping me learn to use my magic even as it restrained me.  It was meant to keep me from using more power than I could handle, keep me from accidently frying myself if I tried to channel too much energy.  But . . . hadn¡¯t that weird note started when my wing was broken?  Had it been reacting to that, letting me have access to more power because I was in more danger?

    I wasn¡¯t sure.  If it did then that spoke to a certain level of intelligence, enough to make a judgement call on the situation.  Or . . . maybe I was overthinking it.  Could it just be something like a pre-set reaction to something happening? My halo letting me have access to more power when certain conditions were met?

    There wasn¡¯t any way for me to be sure, but I was going to have to ask Joan about it when I returned to the farmstead.  Just one more thing to add to my growing list.

    I had to ask her about my halo, about the power it had given me.  I also had to ask about the woods, and if the corruption would end now that the source had been removed.  Then I had to talk to her about Typhon and find out if we had to worry about any other demigods suffering a similar fate to Etienne.

    And then there was Etienne himself.  Would she agree that he was ¡®cured¡¯?  Would she think he was a future threat waiting to happen?  Even if she didn¡¯t, would she accept him if he came with me?  Or would she consider him tainted by what had happened, or by his ancestry?  Even his actions while under the influence of his own corruption might make her want to turn him away, and I would understand that.

    I shifted about uneasily.  Joan was protective of me, as was her duty, so finding out how close he¡¯d come to killing me might not sit well with her.  On top of that were my own feelings, which seemed to be growing more complicated the more time I gave them to settle.

    For one thing, Etienne had tried to kill me.  I understood that it hadn¡¯t really been him, but that was on an intellectual level.  On a more emotional level, the memory of his monstrous form coming at me was seared into my mind.  I wasn¡¯t scared of Etienne himself, not now that he was in control, but just seeing him brought up that unsettling memory, making his presence . . . somehow uncomfortable.

    On the other hand, he was the first other demigod I¡¯d ever met, and . . . well, I didn¡¯t want to be alone.  Both Joan and Hadriel were great, but I couldn¡¯t quite think of either of them as peers, as people I was completely comfortable with.

    Having Etienne around would mean someone else that was in the same boat, or at least on the same level.  We¡¯d both be demigods, both new to the greater supernatural world, both finding our feet.  Maybe we could help each other cope.  Maybe . . . we could be friends.

    Glancing at my watch I noted that an hour and a half had passed since the French demigod had left.  Would he be back soon?  To distract myself from going down another spiral of thoughts I started to drift around the clearing, seeing if there was anything that might be interesting.

    I wasn¡¯t sure what it was that drew my attention to the spot where Etienne had pulled himself out of the brambles.  I must have floated by it a couple of times already by then, and nothing about it had struck me before.  By that point, I¡¯d picked up a couple of sticks and had a vague idea of trying to carve them into spears, just to see if I could, when something caught my attention from the hole in the carpet of thorned vines.

    Maybe it was a glint of light on something shiny as the clouds moved across the sun.  Maybe it was a brief hint of magic at the edge of my senses.  Maybe it was just a random whim that made me look there.  Whatever it was I glanced down at the hole as I floated over it and noticed something that didn¡¯t belong there.

    Reaching out with my arcana I pulled at the sides of the hole, widening it until the light of the lowering sun could reach in.  I¡¯d thought that there was something left over of the monster that had grown from Etienne. The monster that he was now free of.  I¡¯d thought that the body would be there like a deflated balloon, or maybe the cast-off skin of a snake.  I¡¯d even thought that there might be some sort of slime there, the decomposed remains of all that excess flesh.  Instead, all I found was sand.

    Sand, that was a dark colour.  Sand that had a strange scent to it.  Sand that was made up of many fine and smooth granules.  Granules that were more fragile than sand though, breaking down into powder when I rubbed them between my fingers.  There were a lot of them though, enough to leave the ground beneath the vines covered in them, the water soaking into them making the lower portion a damp slurry.

    I would have turned away after a brief investigation, but I saw something poking out of the dark sand, something that had a metallic shine to it.  Mildly interested I reached out with my TK again and tried to pick it up.

    ¡®Try¡¯ was the operative word, because as soon as my arcana made contact the magic fell apart in a way that was growing unpleasantly familiar to me.  Magic resistance!  Whatever this thing was it had magic resistance!

    That immediately put me on guard.  After all, the last thing I¡¯d encountered with magic resistance had been Etienne¡¯s monstrous side, and it had come all too close to eating me.  The fact that I was finding this thing in the exact spot where that creature had fallen was not doing much to dispel that fear.

    I hovered in place, my sore body tense as I waited to see if there would be any sort of reaction to my attempt, but nothing happened.  The object just sat there as I waited, doing absolutely nothing.

    I wasn¡¯t too sure what to do.  On the one hand, anything that could cause my most advanced magic to fall apart on contact was something I wanted to investigate.  If only so I could learn to recognize it in the future.  On the other hand, the paranoid part of me worried that it might be some sort of a lure for a trap, that I¡¯d reach in there to grab it, and then something would grab me.

    So, I decided to use a tried and true technique native to all cultures around the world.

    I poked it with a stick.

    Much to my surprise slavering mouths filled with rotten teeth failed to surge out of the sand to bite down on the branch I was using.  What I did manage was to dislodge the object from the pile of sand it had been sitting in, enough so that I finally got a good look at it.

    It was about the size of a small apple, and irregularly shaped.  It was rounded, but not completely so, rather it was misshapen.  The word ¡®lump¡¯ seemed to describe it quite nicely, but it wasn¡¯t its shape that was of interest to me.  Instead, I found myself intrigued by what it was made of, a distinctly metallic-looking substance, but one with an interesting sheen to it.

    Deciding that I might have been erring on the side of paranoia, but still trying to play it safe, I reached out with one wingtip and flicked the metallic lump out of the hole and to the side.  The small hunk of metal bounced once, then settled into a clump of brambles.  Nothing happened, and after waiting a few seconds, just to be sure, I floated over to it and carefully touched it with two fingers.  I¡¯d been worried that touching something that dispelled magic might do something to my flight, maybe cancel it or something.  But when again nothing happened I decided to pick it up.

    The lump was heavy, enough that it made me think of lead.  The surface was shiny though, and the lump almost seemed to be polished, given how smooth it was.  In colour, the metal was dark, almost black, but there were hints of colour to it, hues that swam in the darkness and only appeared when the light hit the right angle.  From one angle it would be blue, from another red, and from yet another, there¡¯d be a hint of purple.  More than that there seemed to be a pattern to the metal, a wave-like appearance that made me think of the edge of a katana I¡¯d seen in films.

    There was something oddly fascinating about it, and watching the light play across it, shifting its colour and making the waves dance, served to fill most of my remaining time.

    I watched the last few minutes tick down to the agreed two hours, but there was no sign of Etienne.

    Then I waited a further ten minutes, just to see if he would arrive late, but still there was nothing.

    So, I waited for another twenty, a faint anxiety growing in my heart.  Still, there was no sign of him, no sounds out in the woods, no call saying he was coming.

    Still, I didn¡¯t want to leave, not yet.  So, I waited longer, my frustration growing as time passed.  I could understand if Etienne didn¡¯t want to leave, if he felt he had to stay here until he felt ready, but couldn¡¯t he at least have said it to my face?

    In the end, I put the metal back on the ground and took to the skies, my body aching but able to fly easily enough.  I flew in ever-widening circles around the clearing, trying to peer between the branches to see if I could spot Etienne¡¯s pale form.  I shouted, trying to see if I could get a response, but there was nothing, no reply, no fleeting glimpse of him.  Nothing.

    Feeling disappointed I landed back in the clearing in order to put the lump of metal into my pocket.  I was taking it with me, but at that moment it wasn¡¯t what I was really thinking about.

    I¡¯d been ready for Etienne to refuse to come with me, but this thing with him not even coming back . . . it was leaving a bad taste in my mouth.  It felt unsatisfying, as though things hadn¡¯t ended properly between us.

    Still, there wasn¡¯t really much I could do about it.  I couldn¡¯t find him, and the link that had connected me and Etienne seemed to have disconnected.  It was still there, at least on my end, but it wanted reaching anything on the other end.  Maybe Etienne was out of its range, or he¡¯d worked out some way to turn it off so I couldn¡¯t reach him.  it didn¡¯t really matter

    Working out which way led back to the Sanctuary wasn¡¯t hard.  Even though it was distant I could still feel the energies of the huge spell that concealed the farmstead.  To anyone else they would have been unnoticeable, of that I was sure.  But I¡¯d been living inside it for the better part of a month, I¡¯d become somewhat attuned to it, so it seemed to almost call to me.

    Turning that way, I waited for just one more minute, just to see if Etienne would make a last-minute appearance, but soon I began to fly towards the distant power.  I wasn¡¯t going as fast as I had earlier in the day, I was so tired.  It would now probably take me an extra hour or so to get back, but that¡¯d be fine.

 Chapter 15: An Unexpected Encounter: Part One

    Chapter 15: An Unexpected Encounter

    He saw the young demigod flying through the air from some distance away.  There were no trees or other obstructions in the field before him, so catching sight of him had been a simple task.  The winged figure was quite high up in the air, enough so that it was unlikely anyone would spot him unless they were actively looking for him.  He was flying at a steady pace, but not with the speed that the agent would have expected from one of his illustrious bloodline.

    That was not his concern though, what was of importance was signalling the demigod to descend so that they could speak. The agent had several options available to him, but he was hesitant as to which one to use so it could not be misconstrued as an attack.

    An idea occurred to him, and he reached into a silken bag concealed in the voluminous depths of one of his sleeves.  It was a crimson silk bag with embroidery depicting birds in silver and gold threads.  Despite it¡¯s elegant appearance it was no mere decorative item, it was actually a complex artefact, one that he had made under his Lady¡¯s watchful eye.  The enchantment upon it was intricate in creation but simple in execution.  It simply meant that the inside of the bag was larger than the outside, thus letting him store many objects within it.  The small silver-backed mirror that he pulled out, could have fitted in there, but it would have left little room for anything else were the enchantment not in place.  The silken bag was a simple object, but with the magic it possessed, it should be sufficient for his purposes.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The first flash of light caught me by surprise.  I¡¯d just been flying along, just enjoying how free I felt in the air when a sudden burst of light made the world go white.  I came to a stop, blinking my eyes to clear the spots and trying to work out what had happened, and then there was another flash.

    It took two more before I finally spotted where the flashes were coming from.  Down in the field I was flying over, just in front of a small copse of trees, was a figure in white.  My eyes were still a bit dazzled, so the details were somewhat blurry, but they seemed to be holding something that kept flashing at me.  For a moment I considered just flying on, not stopping to investigate.  As far as safety went it was probably my best option.

    Whoever this was they weren¡¯t attacking me, they were just trying to get my attention, so . . .

    My decision was made, I slowly started to sink down to earth, being careful to check the area with both my eyes and my magic.  I still needed practice in that area, but I was good enough to be able to sense a decent number of things.

    The figure below me had power, a strange blend of mana and chi.  Still, out of all the people I¡¯d met so far, I thought they were the weakest.  Of course, my only examples so far had included a warrior angel, a resurrected saint, and a demigod, so my internal scale of power might have been a bit slanted.  Where they shone like stars the figure below me simply shone like a lantern.  The closest I¡¯d seen had been Emma, and with her, there was always a feeling of something hiding.

    I didn¡¯t sense anything else though, and it wasn¡¯t as though the copse of trees was large enough to hide anything.  The idea of magically concealed enemies crossed my mind, but if I went down that rabbit hole then I could end up paralysed by paranoia.

    So, nothing ventured nothing gained.

    My ruined trainers came to a stop just above the ground, the stalks of grass scraping the bottoms of my soles.  This close I could see the figure much clearer, and his appearance was . . . a surprise, to say the least.

    He looked as though he¡¯d stepped out of some Chinese historical drama.  One set in the imperial court and one with a lavish budget.  He wore long robes that had looked white from a distance, but which were revealed to be embroidered in white at closer inspection.  The main robe was a light yellow, with a beautiful design picked out in pristine white threads, tiny pearls acting as embroidery.  The cut and design were unmistakably Chinese, but I didn¡¯t know more than that.

    The man wearing these beautiful clothes was almost a walking clich¨¦. He had classic Asian features, a long white beard and moustache, equally white long hair done up in a topknot, an aged but dignified face, and perfect poise as he waited for me.  He looked every bit like the archetypal ¡®wise master¡¯ that I¡¯d seen in countless martial arts films.  Looking at him I was suddenly all too aware that I was a mud-stained mess.

    Still, despite his almost humorous appearance I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be amused or dismissive.  The way he carried himself, his expression, everything just seemed to radiate a calm and collected dignity.  This wasn¡¯t some guy dressed up in a costume, of that I was certain.  The power that surrounded him, the control, the self-possession, all of it belonged to someone that I felt I had to treat with respect.

    As I approached him, I noted the mirror in his hand, even as he slipped it into a bag at his belt.  I was interested that he¡¯d used such a simple method to contact me, rather than something more aggressive.  I hoped that was a good sign.

    I came to a stop about ten feet from him, out of arm¡¯s reach, but not out of my wings¡¯ reach.  I hoped things didn¡¯t go poorly, but if they did it would be a minor advantage.

    For a moment we just stared at each other in silence, tension slowly building.  Then, in a single flowing movement, the white-haired man clasped one hand over his fist in a martial arts salute and bowed to me, a deep bow at that.

    I didn¡¯t know much about Chinese etiquette.  What I did know was stuff I¡¯d learnt from things like films and comics.  I knew that a salute with one hand over the fist was important.  Depending on which hand it was it could be either a sign of respect or a challenge to a fight.  Seeing him make that salute put me slightly more on edge.  Still, he was also bowing, so I guessed it wasn¡¯t a challenge.  His words did catch me off guard though.

    ¡°Honourable young Master.  This humble servant greets you.¡±

    He spoke in Chinese, and I shouldn¡¯t have been able to understand a word of what he said.  Except, somehow, I did.

    It was kind of like when I¡¯d had the link with Etienne, I could hear his words, but I intuitively knew the meaning behind them.  At the same time, it was different though, more . . . shallow.  What was interesting was that I could feel no link between me and the man dressed in white, yet I was understanding him easily enough.  Was it some natural power that I hadn¡¯t realized I possessed?  But if that was the case, then why didn¡¯t I always understand when Joan spoke in French?

    Well, for the moment I didn¡¯t care, I could understand Chinese, and that was awesome for the time being.

    Then he spoke again, and any other thought I might have been having came to a screeching halt as I focused on him completely.

    ¡°My honoured Lady, your divine progenitor, has tasked me to speak with you upon matters concerning to your future.¡±

    My divine progenitor?  The thought of it shot through my brain like lightning, questions and suppositions rising and falling as I tried to get them in order.  That could only mean one of the gods or angels that I was descended from!  Joan had told me about the events of my awakening, of how there had been four spheres of power representing four bloodlines in me.  One had easily been recognisable as being derived from Bath Kol, but the other three had been a mystery to her.  If this guy could tell me another one of them . . .

    For a moment I wasn¡¯t sure how to respond.  I considered copying him, bowing in the same way but dismissed it.  I was pretty sure he was greeting me as a subordinate would a superior, so bowing to him in return might be rude, or foolish.  Instead, I decided to go with a slight incline and a nod of the head.  I wasn¡¯t sure if it was right, but it was the best I could come up with.

    ¡°Might I know who I have the honour of speaking with?¡±

    I did my best to imitate how a fictional version of King Arthur had spoken in one of my favourite films.  That depiction of him had been regal and honourable, so . . . I hoped I was going in the right direction.

    ¡°This humble servant is simply called Li, young master. Such a name is more than sufficient.¡±

    I kept my face as impassive as I could, but internally I was frowning.  Li?  Really?  I might not know too much about China, but one thing I did know was that Li was one of the most common family names.  It was like Smith or Johnson in the West.  To say his name was Li . . . he might as well have been a western man in a dark suit claiming he was ¡®Mister Smith¡¯.

    ¡°I . . . okay,¡± I internally gathered myself trying to regain my royal mask. ¡°Might I know who your Lady is?  I confess to being ignorant as to the origins of most of my divine progenitors.¡±

    There was no point in trying to pretend otherwise.  He obviously knew enough about me to find me, to know the route I would take.  That in itself was disconcerting, but something I was going to have to worry about later.  Trying to fake knowledge on something like this would only make me look foolish and ignorant.

    ¡°Of course.¡± He nodded gravely.  ¡°It is this humble servant¡¯s privilege to inform you that your divine ancestor is the great goddess N¨¹wa.¡±

    I felt there should have been . . . something.  Some flash of revelation, some feeling of instant recognition.  It might even have been appropriate if a sudden gust of wind had blown across the field.  Maybe a serendipitous parting of the clouds.  Instead, there was just nothing.

    The simple fact was that the name meant next to nothing to me.  Chinese mythology hadn¡¯t been something I¡¯d followed as ardently as other legends.  I was more familiar with aspects of it, such as the legend of the Monkey King, or the immortal archer that shot down the extra suns.  The only reason the name of N¨¹wa was vaguely familiar to me was that she¡¯d appeared in a videogame I¡¯d played a couple of years back.  In it, she¡¯d been just a plot device, someone who gave you a challenge and then provided you with the equipment needed for the next stage.  The only thing I could remember about her was that she¡¯d had several gemstones hovering about her, and that was it.

    How was I meant to handle this?

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The man who called himself Li gazed at the young demigod before him.  This was the inheritor of the blood of the goddess he had devoted his life to.  This was a young man that was privileged in ways that Li could only dream of.  This was someone that the heavens themselves were taking note of.

    Li was not impressed.

    When he had been tasked with this meeting he had been elated.  In his mind, any descendant of his goddess had to be a great man, a future hero or leader.  That the bloodline he descended from had been rooted in the Western cultures of Europe had been a disappointment, but he had been aware that the gods had chosen to incarnate in other lands during their exile from the mortal realm.  Had her inheritor been of her home nation¡¯s blood then he might even have been inducted into the new imperial family, a young prince to strengthen the new ruling bloodline.

    Still, even if he was a foreigner to the Middle Kingdom Li had possessed expectations.  He had thought to meet a young prince, a dignified warrior, someone akin to the King who had returned to the British Isles.  This man, barely more than a boy, was . . . less.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    True, in form he was beautiful, almost perfect.  His features were exquisite, his frame and body a perfect blend of hard muscle and refined delicacy, each balancing the other in a manner that mortals could only dream of.  The great white wings that grew from his back only served to emphasise his near perfection, making him appear every iota as magnificent as the very angels that served the God of the High Heavens.  In form he was striking, but in power?  In presentation?

    Li had thought that standing before this descendant of his lady would be akin to standing before a lesser version of her.  Instead, there was nothing, no sense of pressure from his power, no pressing aura of authority.  The being before him felt almost completely mundane in comparison to what the servant had been expecting.

    For just a moment Li was tempted to test his own strength against the Legacy of his goddess.  Though only a mortal himself, the servant had been one of those few who had been selected by his goddess upon her return due to his tending to one of her shrines.  She had taught him divine arts, ones that even a mortal could use.  These were the martial arts that had become fantasy in modern entertainment, but under his goddess¡¯s instruction, he had regained the vigour of youth and great power besides.  What modern media depicted with wires, explosions and digital effects he could do in truth.  How would that compare to this demigod, weak as he was?

    It was a momentary thought, and one that was immediately dismissed, the fact it had even appeared in his mind was a mark of shame.  It should not matter how strong the young master was!  It should not matter if he was even a mortal.  So long as he had the blood of the divine goddess N¨¹wa flowing in his veins he was accorded respect and subservience from those sworn to her.

    Still, deep in some rebellious part of his heart, he could not help but look down upon the winged man.  Even worse than his unimpressive projection of power was his dishevelled state.  His garments were torn rags, dirtied with filth and blood, his hair was a matted mess, and grime clung to his skin, despite an apparent attempt to wash it away.

    Li was aware that his judgements were irrational, but he could not help them.  This man was the descendant of his goddess, he should not be clad as a beggar or vagabond.  It felt as though he were disrespecting her by allowing her bloodline to be reduced to such a state, and the urge to chastise the demigod rose within him.  Still, he crushed it down, unwilling to take any action that ran contrary to his orders.

    Instead, he focused on the young man¡¯s reaction to learning the name of one of his divine progenitors.  It was . . . lacklustre, at least as far as Li was concerned.  To learn that the blood of such an august deity was in his veins should have prompted awe, joy, and possibly even fear of being unworthy of such a legacy.  However, the winged demigod simply looked mildly confused.  There was recognition there, but none of the immediate reverence that the old servant felt was due.  He could feel outrage beginning to bubble up, but then the young man spoke.

    ¡°N¨¹wa . . . the name is known to me, but I am shamed to say that I don¡¯t know as much of her as I should.  The furthest I have ever travelled to the east is Turkey, so my knowledge of the deities of China is lacking.¡±

    Well, at least he acknowledged his ignorance, as well as how shameful it was to not know more about the goddess that empowered him.  Li felt his opinion of the demigod rise by a minor increment.  Ignorance was far easier to correct than foolishness, so he was willing to educate this winged man in the greatness of his goddess.

    ¡°Very well, young master.¡± He offered another respectful bow before continuing.  ¡°N¨¹wa, or Wahuang as she is called by her devoted, is a great goddess with many accolades to her name.  She is the creator of mankind, having moulded our race from earth, and given us life.  She is the goddess who invented the concept of marriage and taught it to us mortals.  And when the pillars that supported the heavens were broken, it was she who restored them, with great magic and skill.  She and her brother are respected gods who have given much to the world.

    ¡°She is the mother of mankind, the Celestial Empress, the Guardian and Architect of the Heavens.  That is whom you are descended from, and that is who now acknowledges you as her kin and inheritor.¡±

    It was a woefully brief summary of his Lady¡¯s deeds and honours, but it was sufficient for this brief meeting.  Had Li had the time he would have ensured that the young master had encountered him in more appropriate settings where the servant could take the hours needed to properly educate him on his divine ancestor¡¯s legends.  So much had been lost to time, and so much had been revealed with her return.  Her greatest deeds had remained, but the smaller things she had done had been forgotten.

    None remembered that it had been N¨¹wa who had formalised the positions of the five elements represented by her five coloured stones, thus playing a major role in the creation of mortal magic.  None remembered how she had taken a leading role in the repairs and rebuilding of the cities of the heavens after she restored the broken divine pillars.  None remembered how she had cut up the body of the giant turtle Ao and used his meat to feed the hungry in the wake of the disasters that had rocked the mortal realm.  So much had been forgotten during the centuries of the Great Exile.

    Still, the young demigod seemed to be at least appropriately impressed by the nature of his divine progenitor, so he clearly had some sense.

    ¡°So . . .¡± He sounded uncertain as his eyes met the old servant¡¯s. ¡°Will I get to meet her, or . . . ?¡±

    ¡°The exalted goddess has responsibilities that currently occupy her attention,¡± Li explained. ¡°As such she must maintain her current duties to the exclusion of all else, I have been given the duty and honour of revealing your heritage to you and passing on your exalted ancestor¡¯s acknowledgement and gift.¡±

    There was a moment of silence as the young man seemed to turn inwards, trying to order his thoughts.  That was good.  Had he immediately shown interest or greed regarding the gift the goddess had sent him it would have lowered his standing in Li¡¯s mind.

    ¡°So . . . I¡¯m a Legacy of N¨¹wa . . .¡± the winged young man seemed to be speaking more to himself than anyone else, then he blinked and looked up at the old servant. ¡°I . . . thanks for this.  I knew I had many bloodlines, but I only knew one of them for certain.  To know another part of where I come from . . . it is a relief.¡±

    There was a pause as the servant saw the demigod¡¯s attention turn inwards, and then his eyes focused on Li once more.

    ¡°I am thankful for this, but will this knowledge come with . . . duties.  Don¡¯t misunderstand me, I am glad to know of my ancestor and am honoured that she would send someone to let me know, but I am already . . . I feel as though I have almost more than I can cope with already.  I am unsure if I can handle any more.¡±

    Well, that was something of a point of favour on the young man¡¯s side, in Li¡¯s mind.  Had the demigod immediately been interested in what powers or privileges his bloodline provided him with, then the old servant would have been disappointed.  He would have answered of course, such would have been his duty, but he would have been shamed to see such behaviour from his lady¡¯s descendant.  That he instead spoke of responsibilities over privileges, even if it was to say he did not yet feel ready to meet them, showed the sort of maturity that the old servant could approve of.

    It was but another small increase in his regard for this winged man, yet it was noteworthy.  Such issues were his own private business though, what was of greater import was to fulfil the task he had been entrusted with.  A task that the young man¡¯s question led to quite neatly.

    ¡°No,¡± He replied. ¡°The exalted goddess does not need for you to take up any duties at this time.  Her place in the New Jade Empire is a quiet one, as per her wishes.  Certain . . . hierarchies are still unsettled though, and until their flux has ended she has little wish to bring those of her bloodline into the Empire.  My purpose here is simply to inform you of your lineage, and pass her blessing to you.¡±

    As he spoke Li reached into his sleeve, and in a practised motion reached into his magic pouch and pulled out the object his Lady had ordered him to pass to her descendant.  From the demigod¡¯s perspective, it would have seemed that the gift had appeared from nowhere, a small piece of theatre to provide greater authority to Li, and so to his Lady in turn.

    ¡°As of now this is all that the exalted goddess shall provide you with, a blessing, and, it is her hope, a starting point for your future.¡±

    The servant watched as both interest and confusion flitted across the young master¡¯s face.  It was clear that he did not fully understand the value and importance of what was being offered to him, but at the same time, he was not simply dismissing it either.  That was to his credit, but again, Li felt a spark of irritation that this Legacy of the goddess he served did not immediately grasp the honour being bestowed upon him.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I¡¯ll be honest, this had not been what I had expected.

    I was descended from a Chinese goddess?  It didn¡¯t seem real to me, or more accurately, it didn¡¯t seem realistic.  When I tried to learn more about the various mythologies I¡¯d done most of my research on European mythology and what Abrahamic legends of angels and demons I could find.  That had made sense to me, living in England meant that if the Legends were going to affect me then it was probably going to be the ones that naturally belonged to the area.  Britain also had a strong Christian heritage, King Arthur and his knights went looking for the Holy Grail after all, and with the return of the King, there were some angelic appearances in the UK.  So, it made sense to focus on them.  Being descended from a goddess from the other side of a couple of continents just didn¡¯t seem like something likely.

    But, now that I thought about it, geography didn¡¯t really limit the bloodlines I could be descended from.

    For one thing, there was no limit on where the gods could descend as mortals.  It was just as easy for a Roman god to have been reborn in Cuba as it was for them to do so in Italy, so there was no limit on where such bloodlines might begin.  For another thing, old bloodlines could get passed around as those carrying them travelled to new lands, intermarried and then passed them on, especially in modern times where travel was so easy.  It was entirely possible for some Japanese schoolgirl to be a Legacy of the Canadian trickster spirit Raven.

    So, my being a descendant of N¨¹wa wasn¡¯t so much of a stretch.

    A part of me desperately wanted to find somewhere, anywhere, with internet access so that I could find out more about her.  To have more family, even if they were only distantly related, show up and not know anything about them . . . that wasn¡¯t sitting well with me.  There were so many questions I wanted to ask!  But at the same time, I hesitated.

    This Li was keeping things formal, very formal, and I wasn¡¯t sure what was going to happen if I broke that decorum.  So far, he hadn¡¯t given me any chances to ask questions, nor had he really asked any of me.  Hell, I was pretty sure he didn¡¯t even know what my name was since he hadn¡¯t used it and he hadn¡¯t asked.

    It was just intuition, but I felt that breaking character, breaking the formality, would be a bad move.  I could hold it, I could keep playing this role until this was done.  I hoped that Joan or Hadriel might know enough to answer my questions, and if they didn¡¯t . . .  Well, we were going to have to leave the Sanctuary soon, hopefully that would offer a chance to get to a computer.  I couldn¡¯t wait!

    Then I watched the old man¡¯s hand come out of his sleeve holding . . . an orb of metal?

    For a moment I was surprised by the sight.  Not because of the metallic sphere itself, but because it had a feel to it strangely similar to the lump I¡¯d found back in the clearing.

    There were differences of course.  The orb before me was larger easily half again as big as the lump, meaning it was about as big as an orange.  Also, unlike the metal I¡¯d found in the clearing, this was a perfect polished sphere. It looked as if it had just come out of a showroom. Then there was its colour.  Rather than the multiple dark hues of the lump in my pocket, the orb was golden.  It was the sort of gold that made one think of treasure chests and royal crowns.

    But for all those differences it was their one similarity that was eye-catching.  Just like the lump of metal I¡¯d found, the orb had the same wave-like pattern, as though it was composed of many metals that had been folded upon each other, and then shaped into a sphere.  Each wave seemed to be a different shade of gold, and each time the orb moved those waves seemed to ripple in an almost hypnotic manner.

    Maybe the resemblance between the two different chunks of metal was superficial compared to their differences, but even so, I couldn¡¯t help but be certain that they were somehow deeply related.  There was a . . . a quality, something I couldn¡¯t put my finger on, that they shared.

    Reaching out I took it from Li¡¯s hand, my eyes narrowing as I tried to work out my sudden certainty of its connection with the metal in my pocket.

    ¡°What . . . is this?¡±

    I asked the question almost absently and was slightly surprised when I received an answer.

    ¡°This is refined ore from the exalted goddess¡¯s own workshop.  Mystical materials that have not been seen in the mortal realm for millennia were purified and combined to reach a superior state, then condensed and shaped into the Thousand Heavenly Blessings Metal Sphere you now hold.¡±

    I blinked at that, both at the description and at the name.  I knew something was being lost in the translation, but names like ¡®the Thousand Heavenly Blessings Metal Sphere¡¯ sounded far too much like they belonged in some cultivation comic.

    I¡¯d read a couple in the past, mainly at the insistence of friends, and I¡¯d always found the names of the weapons and herbs in them to be too over the top to take seriously.  When a character started talking about retrieving something like ¡®the revered Thousand Year Old Jade Bone Grass¡¯, or calling their swords something like ¡®Ten Thousand Heavens Splitting Red Jade Slaughtering Edge¡¯ I just lost my suspension of disbelief and did my best not to laugh.  It was an unfair reaction, since when the original names were spoken in films I knew that they could sound quite beautiful.  It was just a matter of the nuances being lost between languages.

    Still, as silly as the name sounded to me, I didn¡¯t find myself amused.  Instead, I was intrigued.

    ¡°What does my . . . honoured ancestor expect me to do with it?¡±  I asked, almost using her name before I remembered I had to act formally.

    ¡°That is completely at your discretion,¡± The old man replied. ¡°If you wish you may sell it in trade, amassing a fortune.  Many will pay vast sums in any payment you wish in order to secure it.  Use those funds to secure a life of luxury, set the foundation of a powerbase, or simply gift it to any cause or charity you desire to support.  The exalted goddess will take no insult, she shall see it as you making use of your inheritance in accordance with your wishes.

    ¡°Or you can choose to keep it, learn how to use it as you see fit.  Such metal can be a potent reagent in the use of spells and rituals, or it can be used in the forging of a weapon or artefact, or even absorbed into your body to enhance your physical abilities.  The matter is completely at your discretion.¡±

    I nodded slowly my eyes still focused on the sphere.  It felt important to me, more than just because it was a gift from one of the sources of my divinity.  It felt important in some way I couldn¡¯t put my finger on.  Without thinking about it I moved to put it in my pocket, only to remember that I only had the one that hadn¡¯t been torn open, and that was already in use.  Trying to summon up some sort of dignity, I spoke.

    ¡°Would you happen to have a spare bag you could part with?  I¡¯m afraid that my clothes did not fare well in my last battle, and I have nowhere to carry this gift on my way back to my current home.¡±

 Chapter 15: An Unexpected Encounter: Part Two

    Once more Li felt his regard for his goddess¡¯s descendant increase by a small increment.

    To be sure, the young man was still far from the dignified young master that the old servant would have preferred.  However, the winged demigod was showing himself to be better than his initial impression would have suggested.

    His treatment of the gift that had been given to him was certainly worthy of admiration.  The young man had not been seized by greed at the possibilities of such a treasure, or by pride at being the owner of such a rare prize.  Instead, he had been . . . considering of the sphere of divine metal, thoughtful in a way Li approved of.  Perhaps there was some dignity to the demigod after all.

    ¡°Would you happen to have a spare bag you could part with?  I¡¯m afraid that my clothes did not fare well in my last battle, and I have nowhere to carry this gift on my way back to my current dwellings.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t too much of a surprise request.  After all, the young demigod¡¯s clothes seemed to be only just holding together, and he clearly had no means to carry the treasure he had been given, save for in his hands.  Li could understand the desire to hide the valuable gift away, after all, only a fool paraded around such a priceless artefact for all to see.

    Internally the old servant considered the request.  His lady had only instructed him to pass her gift along to her descendant, so Li was under no obligation to grant him anything further.  However, underwhelming though he might be this was still the acknowledged Legacy of his goddess, and he had not shown himself to be . . . unworthy.

    ¡°I believe I can aid you in your difficulty.¡±

    As he spoke the servant of N¨¹wa reached into his other sleeve and took hold of a bag similar to the one that he¡¯d extracted his goddess¡¯s gift from.

    This bag was less ornate than the one that he had carried the globe of Heavenly metal.  It was made of a dark and leathery cloth, and devoid of any embroidery save for some minor edging picked out in silver threads.  The drawstring had a small tassel at the end, but aside from that the pouch was fairly plain.

    This was one of his earlier efforts to create the magical pouch he now used.  Compared to his preferred creation, a masterpiece that could hold almost a room¡¯s worth of contents, this bag could only hold as much as two large luggage chests.  It hadn¡¯t been a failure though, which was why he had kept it, but it had hardly been the success Li had been working towards.

    It was one of several such artefacts that had been made during his education in the use of Profound Energy by this goddess.  Though of no use to him, the servant had kept them, knowing that they would be of value to others.  He¡¯d thought to use them as minor rewards, gifts for those that served him and his lady well.

    The one he intended to hand over to the young master was not the largest of those that he carried, but it was the most secure.  The magic that created a self-contained space within a small vessel was resilient to attempts to breach it, but not invulnerable.  The bag he now selected had been an effort to improve upon that and create a pouch that could not be stolen from.

    It had been a qualified success in that regard.  The amount of power needed to break into the pouch would cause the self-contained space within to collapse, erasing itself before anything could be retrieved.  It was not ideal, but it would ensure that any thief trying to steal from it would receive nothing.

    Unfortunately, the additions that provided that extra security had also reduced the size of the internal space, meaning it was insufficient for Li¡¯s needs.  Still, he had learnt from it, and all of his subsequent efforts had benefitted from the experiment, so it had not been any real loss for him.

    Pulling it out of his sleeve he held it out to the winged demigod.

    ¡°This should serve suitably.¡± He stated, careful to keep any sort of smile from forming on his face.

    ¡°My thanks.¡± Came the polite reply.

    Li watched with a certain level of internal amusement as the young man placed the orb into the bag.  Had the pouch been a normal one it would have only just been large enough to contain the sphere of Heavenly Metal comfortably, so it came as a surprise to the demigod when the pouch was no fuller or heavier after he placed the treasure within.  The goddess¡¯s servant forced his face to remain impassive as the young master looked at the bag in confusion, then extracted the sphere, before returning it.

    ¡°I . . . What is this?¡±

    The descendant of his lady kept his voice controlled, though it was quite clear that it took some effort.

    ¡°Merely a trinket that may be of some use to you, young master,¡± Li replied. ¡°I trust that it shall make transporting your inheritance far easier than simply holding it.¡±

    The old servant watched as the demigod took something else from his pocket and placed it in the pouch.  Li couldn¡¯t see what it was, but for a moment he was certain he faintly sensed power in the air, dark and subtle power, but deep at the same time.  It was enough to cause one of his eyebrows to rise almost imperceptibly as questions bubbled up in his mind.

    What had that been?  And why had he not sensed it before?  Was it some sort of spoil of battle?  The young master had claimed the state of his apparel was due to recent combat, and the fact he was carrying around something with that kind of force to it . . .  Well, if it was a spoil then it would indicate that the battle could not have been an easy one.

    Once again, Li felt his regard for the demigod rise by another minor increment.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    It was taking a great deal of willpower not to grin like a maniac as I stared down at the gift I¡¯d been given.

    A Bag of Holding!  I¡¯d been given a freaking Bag of Holding, one of the most iconic magical items in all of fiction!  If Doug had been there to see it then he might well have drowned in his own drool.  Well, that or have a heart attack from sheer jealousy.

    Even beyond the simple coolness of owning such a famous magical item were the practical applications though.  Already, I could imagine many ways it could be used to cover some of my weaknesses.  I¡¯d need to do some experimentations with it, of course, to get a handle on its rules and limitations, but I was looking forward to it.  I did my best to bring my racing thoughts back under control as I looked up at Li.

    ¡°This . . . this is quite the magnificent gift,¡± I said, doing my best to remain as formal as I could. ¡°Are there any limitations or rules that I should follow in its use?¡±

    That was the most important thing to know.  I didn¡¯t want to end up destroying it by trying to store water in it if any sort of liquid would undo the magic on it or some other quirk like that.

    ¡°You need not concern yourself over much, young master,¡± The older man assured me, his voice as formal as if he were addressing me in a royal court. ¡°That pouch is a most sturdy one, the works upon it ensuring it will be durable, and even recover in time if damaged.  The only thing you must not do is attempt to access the contents without opening it.  the arrays upon it shall resist such efforts, and if overpowered will simply collapse and destroy the bag and all its contents.¡±

    Okay, I could work with that.  With a respectful nod, I tied the pouch to my belt, pleased that it weighed no more than it would have if it were empty.  Carrying the lump of metal in my pocket had begun to be slightly irritating since I was constantly checking to see if its weight had caused my trousers to rip.  The damned things were already in a bad state, and I was just lucky that the belt I¡¯d been wearing had managed to come through relatively unscathed.  The pouch would be far easier to carry than both the metal lump I had found and the sphere I had been gifted.  I made sure it was secure, then turned to face Li once more.

    ¡°Allow me to offer my thanks once more, not simply for this gift or for bringing me my . . . divine ancestor¡¯s gift, but also for letting me know who she is.  Since learning I was a demigod, I¡¯ve only known of one branch of my ancestry.  Learning the truth of another is most welcome.¡±

    That was the truth, not knowing where I came from, and what lineages were within me, had been gnawing at the back of my mind ever since I came to the farmhouse.  Now, after seeing what had happened to Etienne it had begun to weigh on me more.  The thought that my own ancestry might have some lurking timebomb growing in me like some malignant sore.  Now that I knew another of them . . .

    Well, I knew next to nothing about N¨¹wa, but I was sure that either Joan or Hadriel would be able to tell me something.  From there I could do my research, once I got access to a computer.  My mental to-do list was just growing longer and longer.  How long would it be before I started to miss something?  I¡¯d have to write it all down as soon as I got back, make sure nothing slipped my mind.

    I suppressed a frown as I realized that I¡¯d let my thoughts wander.  Li had begun to speak, and I¡¯d been so lost in my worried I¡¯d missed the start of what he said.

    ¡°. . . is the most that my lady can extend to you.  As time passes, matters in the New Empire shall settle from their turbulence, and she may be able to contact you, perhaps even invite you to meet with her.  If you gain notoriety then she may also be able to move more openly, as your acknowledgement would only strengthen her position, rather than undermine it.¡±

    Alright, I was able to get a fair bit out of that, and not all of it sounded good.  The way it was phrased made it sound like N¨¹wa¡¯s position in the New Jade Empire was not as stable as it could be.  I knew something of what was going on over in China, but many of the details were being kept secret.  It was well known that the mortal government was largely gone, replaced by the Celestial Bureaucracy, but the actual power structures behind them were mostly unknown.  What Li said . . . it made me think that while some positions were secure, such as the Jade Emperor, others were still in flux.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I didn¡¯t know too much about court politics, but even I could see that such a situation could lead to the metaphorical knives coming out.  Some depictions of the old Chinese court had always shown a great amount of scheming and backstabbing.  I could see what Li might be getting at, and why N¨¹wa would want to keep me out of it.  Actually, the fact that she was keeping me away from her current situation might be due to a wish to keep me safe, rather than to protect her own position.  Or she might simply view me as currently useless, and not want to acknowledge me until I had the power to be an asset rather than a hindrance.

    Damn it!  Some small and angry part of me was raging at this ignorance.  Amanda and Anthony were my parents, and I loved them, but there was always some small part of me that had wondered about my blood family.  When I¡¯d learnt I was descended from Bath Kol I had been so excited, and the fact I ended up with wings had been all the proof I needed to believe I was descended from an angel.  However, it was hard get my head around the idea of a powerful archangel being related to me.  I settled for thinking of her as sort of an ancestor, one that had died and passed on.

    N¨¹wa though, with her things were different.  She was alive right now, she existed somewhere in the world I could reach with an aeroplane, maybe even without one.  She was the first blood relation I¡¯d ever had a chance to meet, and the fact I didn¡¯t know just how she truly thought about me was . . . frustrating.  Very frustrating.

    Part of me just wanted to grab the servant before me by his robe and shake him until all the answers I wanted came out!  I was getting sick of always being careful, of always being patient.  I¡¯d been patient with Joan.  I¡¯d been patient with becoming a demigod.  I¡¯d been patient with Hadriel.  I¡¯d been patient with my own power being stunted.  Patience had been my rock, the armour I used to protect myself in the face of all the upheaval in my life, but it was also starting to grate on me.

    I let none of this show though, or at least I tried my hardest not to.  I had committed to a role when this meeting between us began, breaking the face I had been showing wasn¡¯t going to help my case any.  I had to keep it formal, keep things controlled.  Now, what would sound suitably courtly?

    ¡°What sort of . . . deeds would most suitably honour my divine ancestor.¡±

    ¡°Any deed that obstructs the goals of the Deeper Hells would be looked upon with favour by the entire Empire,¡± Li replied, a flash of something dark appearing in his eyes at the mention of the Deeper Hells. ¡°But any action that preserves the order of the world and saves the lives of the innocent will bring acclaim to both you and the exalted goddess.  Though I do not seek to suggest you seek glory for its own sake, it is only natural that the more public your victories the greater the renown you shall gain.¡±

    That made some sense.  There were several famous demigods in the world, and those that were linked to them had gained notoriety through them.

    ¡°I shall endeavour to bring honour to both my name and hers.¡±

    I stole that line straight from something I¡¯d seen two years ago, but it seemed to have been the right words because Li offered me a nod in response.

    ¡°may you be able to honour her suitably.¡±

    He paused for a moment, then brought his hands up again in that martial arts salute once again.

    ¡°I would prefer to remain here longer,¡± He stated, bowing respectfully as he did so. ¡°Had I the time it would be my privilege to educate you on the nature and past deeds of your exalted divine ancestor.  However, my responsibilities are many, and my lady has many tasks I must perform.  I have passed her treasure to you; may it bring you prosperity and power.¡±

    He paused for a moment, his eyes passing over me in clear assessment.

    ¡°You have potential, young master.  But should you ever have the opportunity to present yourself to exalted N¨¹wa then I suggest you place the greatest effort into making yourself presentable.¡±

    Before I had the chance to come up with any sort of reply to that, the old man levitated into the sky.  It took me by surprise because I didn¡¯t sense any magic coming from him, not like I did when either myself or my guardians used our flight.   Instead, there was something else, something completely different to any energy I¡¯d encountered before.  Mana and magic were bright powers, energies that constantly changed as they responded to my will, taking on the qualities I needed.  By contrast, chi was more solid, more constant, but at the same time it was more energetic, a coiled spring waiting for release.  This new energy compared to magic and chi in much the same way living wood would compare to burning fire or solid steel.  There was power there, but it didn¡¯t feel stronger or deeper than those I had access to.  Instead, it felt . . . broader, more wide-reaching.

    All of this flashed through my mind, but in that instant of distraction Li vanished from my sight. I just had time to look up, drawn by another surge of that strange power, and see his form fading into the distance.  I didn¡¯t even want to guess how fast he was going, but it was faster than anything I could manage.  In only a handful of seconds, he was too far away for me to make out, but the speed of his passage didn¡¯t seem to disturb the clouds around him, or the plants beneath him.

    It seemed I had something else to add to my ever-growing to-do list.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Li felt a tiny worm of guilt gnawing at his conscience as he flew away.

    Yes, he had duties to attend.  Yes, he had to return to the Empire and continue to work on advancing his lady¡¯s interests.  Yes, he had to continue his own training and advancement to be better able to serve the goddess he was a devoted servant to.  All of that was true, but even so, he hadn¡¯t needed to depart from the young master quite as abruptly as he had.

    He could have stayed, and spoken with the young demigods some more.  He could have informed him more of the delicate interplay of powers that were preventing his divine ancestor from being able to give him the support that she wished.  However, he had chosen not to, instead, he had left him ignorant of the complex situation he was now peripherally attached to.

    His choice was not made due to dislike or contempt though.  Indeed, his impression of the descendant of his goddess had improved throughout their interaction.  To be sure, Li still felt the young master was not yet truly worthy of exalted N¨¹wa¡¯s full attention, but the old servant no longer viewed him as the dirtied and . . . underwhelming young man he had first appeared to be.

    The winged demigod had some admirable self-control, and he was not blinded by the gifts he had been given.  Even during his excitement over the sphere and the pouch, Li had been able to see his mind working away behind his eyes.  There was some willpower there, as well as intelligence.  To be sure, there was none of the incandescent brilliance that he¡¯d seen in some of the genius students of his lady, but there was something that looked to have potential.

    The young master had also conducted himself with a certain level of dignity, despite the ruined state of his clothes and the grime and blood that clung to him.  He was no courtier, showing none of the training that the ranking members of the New Jade Empire were adopting and excelling in, but he had managed even so was noteworthy.

    The reason that Li had elected to cut their conversation off had nothing to do with malice or contempt, rather it was prompted by his absolute loyalty to the goddess he served.

    Li was one of the first students that his honoured goddess had chosen to educate in the cultivation and use of Profound Energy, and his growth in power had granted him many gifts.  Among them was the ability to sense the depths of a being¡¯s power.  It was an inexact ability, one that only gave him impressions rather than an accurate picture, and it was slow to work.  Fortunately, the exchange between him and the young master had lasted long enough for him to gain a sense of the power of the descendant of his goddess.

    The impression he gained had been a strange one, there had been power to be sure, but it had been like only a thin active crust over something inert, inactive.  In the past, Li had encountered the children and Legacies of gods before, and always their power had been akin to crackling stars of power, eager and ready to release their strength.  This different core of power seemed to be incomplete when compared to them.  Or, he thought as he looked back on it, perhaps a better word to describe it would be ¡®unfinished¡¯, or even ¡®juvenile¡¯.  Yes, that last one sounded the most correct.  The power of this young master was still taking form, still settling.

    As soon as he¡¯d realized this Li had understood that the demigod before him was not yet in the full maturity of his power.  What the servant was seeing was not all there was to see.  The realization had not changed his plans though, it had only cemented them further in his mind.

    This descendant of his goddess was not yet all he could be, and that was a sufficient reason to leave him alone for now.

    The truth was that Li now held the young master in high esteem.  He was the blood of the great goddess N¨¹wa, after all.  However, that esteem did not mean that he was ignorant of the risk he posed to the exalted goddess, simply by existing.

    N¨¹wa had been among the first of the Celestial Court deities to choose to return to the mortal realm.  Her return had been quiet, with her choosing to create a small palace for herself in an out-of-the-way spot far from prying eyes, then amassing servants and followers from the ranks of those that she found interesting.  Since Li himself had been among these first recruits it had been a situation that had worked for him, however the initial peace of her training had not lasted long.

    The exalted goddess had underestimated how fast matters in the mortal realm would escalate.  She hadn¡¯t anticipated how the leaders of the mortals of her country would violently react to the return of the gods they once worshipped.  She hadn¡¯t anticipated how swiftly the Celestial Court would defeat the mortal armies and assume control over the country once more.  She was a deity, a being with millennia of experience and learning to draw upon, but even so, she had been caught out of position by the unexpected turn of events.

    N¨¹wa was a goddess without direct, personal, enemies, but that did not mean she was without opposition or those that wished her harm.  Gods had power, and power always inspired envy and greed.  Then there were her fellow deities, those that would not hesitate to cause her harm if it allowed them to elevate themselves.

    His honoured patron was taking a risk in aiding her descendant, by reaching out to him she was exposing a potential weak point.  Li¡¯s response to this was to leave the young demigod with as little contact as possible, and only a vague understanding of the situation.

    Let him grow in power, or fall into helplessness.  Hopefully, he would keep from proclaiming his heritage in any sort of public forum until he had gained enough power and notoriety to be the asset the goddess needed.

    Li did not like how little control he had over the situation; how little influence he could exert other than this one meeting.  He hoped it would be enough.  He hoped that his goddess would not be harmed in any way.  He supposed that he also hoped that the young master would thrive enough to be reunited with his divine ancestor.

    Suddenly a thought occurred to him.  He had never learnt what the name of his divine patron¡¯s Legacy was.  An unusual oversight for him.  Briefly, he considered returning to learn it but then dismissed the notion.

    It probably would not be all that important.  If he thrived, then they would learn his name in time.  If he fell to obscurity or death . . . would his name be worthy of recollection?

    He continued to fly on.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I took off slowly after seeing my ancestor¡¯s messenger fade into the distance.  I was still a bit stunned at the sheer speed that I¡¯d seen him demonstrate.  I was aware that either of my guardians could have achieved similar speeds if they used the full angelic power at their disposal.  Li had been completely human and mortal, at least as far as I had been able to tell, but he¡¯d been able to go so fast . . .

    Would I ever be able to reach those kinds of speeds?  Just one more question for my ever-growing mental list.

    It only took me a few minutes to reach the area of the farmstead.  It could have taken more time but after the meeting, I was feeling somewhat exposed.  Sure, the old man had been courteous enough, but the fact that he¡¯d been able to find me so easily had been disturbing.

    What if someone else was looking for me, someone with hostile intentions?  I could still put up a fight, but tired as I was, I wouldn¡¯t be at my best if I was forced to defend myself.  With that in mind I channelled as much of my magic as I could comfortably handle into my flight, kicking my speed up considerably.  It shortened the time to return considerably.  Of course, I had no idea of just what I was unknowingly speeding towards.

    If I¡¯d known, then I would¡¯ve taken my time.

 Chapter 16: Journeyéˆ¥æªš End: Part One

    Chapter 16: Journey¡¯s End

    The golem felt the return of the demigod and took note.

    Emotions weren¡¯t really a factor in its thinking, but it did have priorities, drives, an impetus behind its actions.  It could recognize events and developments that made those goals easier or more difficult.  It could then select courses of action based upon them.

    As such the construct felt a sensation that could vaguely akin to relief when if became aware of the demigod¡¯s return.  His return meant that fewer future resources needed to be devoted to tracking or monitoring him.  His proximity made the mission of the golem that much easier.

    It was not yet fully returned to functionality, and it still had not yet completed its deliberations on how its mission status stood in regard to the demigod that had inadvertently given it the energy needed to commence its repairs.  All it had determined so far was that the winged young man was important, a priority.

    Whether that was a priority target, obstacle, asset, or danger had still not yet been determined.  The information it had was insufficient for a conclusion to be reached.  After its full mobility and strength were restored it could begin to gather that information.  Then it would determine its mission in its totality.

    Standing as immobile as it had for the past few weeks the golem continued its slow approach to restoration.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I could tell there was something . . . different as soon as I came into sight of the Hallowed Sanctuary.  As someone that was keyed to it, someone it recognized as authorized to leave and enter it, I could easily see it from outside.  To me it appeared as a massive transparent dome that would almost look like it was made of glass, save for a faint golden tinge to it.  In the setting sun of the early evening it made for quite the pleasant sight, sort of like a second sun dipping beneath the horizon ahead of the other.  Well, if you looked at it with your eyes half shut anyway.

    Still, as I drew closer I felt there was something off.  Before there had been a feeling of security, of safety to the huge dome.  But as I got closer it seemed more fragile than it had been, almost delicate.  I found myself wondering if Joan and Hadriel had somehow gotten the date that it would fall wrong, and that it would be happening in the next few hours, rather than in a couple of days.

    I came to a stop, hovering high enough that I was about even with the top of the dome.  It was strange, as early as this very morning flying this high would have been enough to make my head spin and my heart to hammer, but now . . .  Well, I did have to swallow to moisten my suddenly dry throat, but that was so much less than I had felt before that it was almost nothing.  Still, as awesome a development as this was I pushed it to the back of my mind and concentrated on examining the farmstead.

    I couldn¡¯t spot anything wrong, nothing that could account for my sudden certainty that something was not right.  I could see the buildings, I could see the area around them.  I could see the additions I¡¯d made to the area, and I could even see the remains of the golem close to the burnt crater where my failed awakening had taken place.  Despite me looking everywhere everything seemed to be as it should be.  There were no craters or burn marks, at least no new ones anyway.  No hints of fighting or disruption.  Everything looked just as it was when I left.

    As I came closer to my chosen landing spot I kept on scanning the area, but found nothing that could explain my unease.  It was getting to the point where I was wondering if it was just a trick of my tired mind.  Had this whole day been so harrowing that I couldn¡¯t just accept that it was over?  Was I conjuring up ghosts to jump at simply because I was too wound up to relax?  No, even as the thought occurred to me, I dismissed it.

    I realized that I had paused in mid-air, stopping my descent as my thoughts had turned inwards.  It made me realize that I must be more tired than I thought, if just a drift in my chain of thought was enough to make me stop like that.  I needed some rest, that was the simple truth.

    Admitting it to myself made me feel a bit better.  It was a reason for my unfounded suspicions, a reason I was feeling off, I was just dead tired.  As I started to go down once more, I began to make a mental list of things I had to do before I could go and collapse on my bed.  I¡¯d have to talk to Joan and Hadriel, that was a given.  I didn¡¯t have to give them a total in-depth blow-for-blow account, but I should at least let them know the bare bones of how things had turned out.  Maybe show them the two pieces of metal, see if they knew what they were.  More than that though . . . I just wanted to get some sleep.

    But tomorrow . . . tomorrow I was going to grill them both until all my questions had been answered!

    I aimed to come down in the main drive in front of the farmhouse, setting down on the gravel where cars would have parked if they ever came here.  It was a nice wide area, so I could come down without having to fold my wings first.  It also let me enter the farmstead through the front door, which would make the trip to my room and my shower a little shorter.  It was only because I came down there that I was able to see into the large store shed that had been renovated into a garage.  Someone had done a shoddy job in installing the new door, because it tended to come half undone in any sort of strong wind.  It didn¡¯t really matter since no one used the garage, but it was one of the things I¡¯d noticed while looking around the place.

    It was because of that half open door that I could see into it as I came down, the light of the setting sun going in at just the right angle to reflect of something that hadn¡¯t been there when I left.

    It was a motorbike, one of those big ones that make you think of roaring down a desert with the sun coming up behind it. It had the same look, the same feel to it as the legendary Harley Davidson, even if it wasn¡¯t one. When I looked at this bike, I could easily imagine it being ridden by a Hells Angel style biker, one that looked like they lived on a steady diet of red meat, caffeine, beer, and steroids.

    Quite simply, this looked like the bike of a bad ass!

    So, why it was in this garage?  The Hallowed Sanctuary was still up, so nobody should have been able to even find this place, let alone enter it.  Well, I supposed that Joan or Hadriel could have left and come back, but I hardly saw either of them as the type to go out and get a tricked-out motorcycle.  And that begged the question; where had it come from?

    ¡°Adam¡±

    My eyes were pulled from the garage to the front door of the farmhouse.  The door that was now open and filled with a concerned looking Joan.  She was dressed in her casual clothes, but even so I was suddenly painfully aware of my own ragged and dirty state.  Nervously I scratched the side of my head while offering a sheepish grin.

    ¡°Hi Joan.  Things . . . were a bit tougher than I was expecting.¡±

    She just blinked at me, taking in not simply my appearance, but the nuances as well.  I could see her focus in on where my clothing had been torn by fangs and claws, where blood had dried on me.  I could see her eyes narrowing as she took it in, reading the story it told her of what sort of things I¡¯d had to deal with.

    ¡°Are you hurt?¡±

    She asked the question as she stepped out of the doorway, striding over the gravel until she was directly in front of me.

    ¡°No,¡± I assured her, holding up a hand palm out to keep her from giving me healing I didn¡¯t need. ¡°I¡¯m just tired.  Things got complicated, lots of stuff happened.  Right now I need a shower and some sleep, but once I¡¯ve got myself feeling like a person again we¡¯ve got to talk.¡±

    I stepped past her, my wings already folding in so I could step through the doorway.  I was internally bemoaning how food didn¡¯t really do anything for me, since something sweet might have managed to give me enough energy to talk to them tonight, when a hand on my shoulder stopped me in mid-step.

    ¡°I am sorry, but there are matters that cannot wait,¡± Joan sounded apologetic, but her voice remained firm all the same. ¡°While you were gone, we received . . . visitors.¡±

    I blinked, turning to face her, my confusion clear on my face.

    ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡±

    The resurrected saint opened her mouth to say something, but a muffled unfamiliar voice spoke from behind me, causing me to turn in place.  The feminine voice was faint from distance, but I could still make it out clearly enough.

    ¡°So, he has arrived?¡±

    Coming around the far side of the farmhouse was Hadriel, but she wasn¡¯t alone.  Two unfamiliar figures followed her, though with the setting sun just behind them I couldn¡¯t make them out.  It would normally have been easy to channel a little light magic into myself to keep from being dazzled, but I simply didn¡¯t have the energy.  Instead, I waited for them to enter the shadow of the farmstead, turning back to face Joan as they approached.

    ¡°We have . . . guests,¡± She explained. ¡°It would seem that when you left the Sanctuary there were those that were able to sense you and used that knowledge to uncover our location.  They were unable to break into the Sanctuary, but they were able to convince both myself and honoured Hadriel that they meant no harm.¡±

    Okay, I could feel a bit of nervousness starting to grow in my stomach.  Hadriel had been more than happy to educate me on the nature of the Hallowed Sanctuary, so I knew how powerful a spell it was.  Entire armies of powerful beings could have thrown themselves against it, and all they would accomplish would be to harm themselves.  And its stealth abilities, the power to keep what was within hidden from prying eyes, was second only to that defensive power.  That these guests had been able to find it, even if it was with help from me, made it sound like they were powerful.

    ¡°So, what do they want?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I asked the question as I heard the approaching voices of the newcomers.  It didn¡¯t sound as though they had spotted me yet, so I had time to get at least a little preparation in.

    ¡°They wish to talk to you,¡± Joan replied, her voice low and intense. ¡°They have ties to your progenitors and have come seeking alliance or friendship.  They have sworn binding oaths that they mean you no harm, we would not have allowed them into the Sanctuary otherwise, but do not take them lightly.  They have not yet told us exactly what they wish to speak on.  They said they shall speak only to you.¡±

    ¡°Ah, is that him?¡±

    The voice spoke out, much closer now, and both I and my guardian started to turn.  As we did so Joan said one last thing, her voice pitched low so only I could hear it.

    ¡°They did not come together, each of them is here for their own reasons, they simply arrived at the same time by chance.¡±

    I gave a small nod, acknowledging what I¡¯d heard, then turned my attention to the trio approaching us.  Hadriel stood in the middle, the newcomers on each side of her.  As normal the red winged angel was hovering a few inches off the ground, but even so the two women beside her still stood taller than her.

    And what women they were.  I felt my eyes widen as I took in the sight of these newcomers, doing my best to suppress an urge to gawk like some teenager being hit by puberty for the first time.

    Both of the figures before me were breathtakingly beautiful, but it was in almost completely different ways.

    The woman on the left was dressed in something that made me think of a toga, but which was more elaborate than the relatively simple ones that were known from statues and art.  It hugged her closely, highlighting the figure it covered, and was mainly white, and edged in vivid blue.  She also had a long silk shawl or scarf that ran down from her left shoulder to her right hip, then up her back and over her left shoulder again.  It was pinned there with a golden brooch shaped like an owl¡¯s head, the end of the cloth falling forwards to her knees.  It was an odd look, but it was also dignified, like a flag or standard.

    Still, as eye-catching as her clothes were, they had nothing on the woman who wore them.

    Just from looking at her it was clear that she was anything but ordinary.  First off, she was tall, very tall.  I¡¯d never been a short guy, and after my Awakening I¡¯d gained a couple of inches, so I was now a little over a full six feet tall.  Even so this woman stood a full head taller than me, my eyes more or less on level with the hollow of her throat as she stepped forward.  If I had to guess I¡¯d have put her at six foot nine, maybe even a full seven feet tall.

    Not that it looked bad on her, far from it in fact.  She was beautiful in a way that I was coming to associate with supernatural beings, but even Hadriel, the most gorgeous person I¡¯d ever met in person, was eclipsed by her.

    Still, her looks were of a different type.  The red winged angel was beautiful, but this woman had a more . . . refined look to her, an appearance that spoke of sophistication as well as strength.  Her bare arms were clearly toned and strong, despite their slender form, and the clothes that she wore hinted at a figure that was both athletic and alluring without being either deliberately seductive or vulgar.  Her skin was fair but filled with vitality.

    Her face and features were every bit as perfect as the rest of her, a face that could only be described as ¡®aristocratic¡¯ being framed by long dark blonde hair.  Grey eyes were in turn framed with long lashes and topped by thin and sharp eyebrows.  Her mouth was a perfect cupid¡¯s bow, her lips a shade that I couldn¡¯t tell if it was makeup or just natural.  I couldn¡¯t even try to guess her age, there was a vitality and freshness that spoke of youth, but also a maturity and refinement that spoke of life lived.  All of her features came together to form a face that I could imagine inspiring anything form devotion, to obsession.

    More than that, she was not simply beautiful, she was also flawless, in a very literal sense of the word.  I could see nothing that marred her loveliness, not a mole anywhere on her skin, not a hint of a scar, or suggestion of a wrinkle.  No dry skin, nor any sort of roughness or discolouration, there wasn¡¯t even a hint of any of them.

    . . . just like me.

    The thought rose up even as my eyes took her in again.  After my Awakening my body had been idealized, every imperfection removed, and all my features brought to the pinnacle of what they could be.  This woman had something similar, though some part of me was certain that this wasn¡¯t what she had become, rather it was what she had always been.

    However, beyond her mere physical appearance there was more to her, something that made it impossible to mistake her for just a tall and beautiful woman.

    Magic seemed to hover around her in an invisible aura.  It was thick in the air, but at the same time it wasn¡¯t oppressive.  It was also different to either of my guardians¡¯.  Joan¡¯s power was light, something I could only sense when I had my halo out.  When I could perceive it, her power always felt clean and bright to me, a reflection of both her personality and the light magic she could use.  By contrast Hadriel¡¯s was more . . . wild, more violent, even though it was also tightly controlled.  The crackle of lightning and the ring of steel sounded from her power just as clearly as the light of Heaven shone from her.

    The aura of the woman before me was . . . confusing.  Some of it felt light, lighter than air, lighter than sunshine, but indescribably complex at the same time.  There was also a sense of hardness, but it came in so many types that it was hard to get a grip on it.  I could feel the metallic hardness of steel, the more rigid toughness of stone, as well as wood, bone, and others that I didn¡¯t even recognise.  There was also the softness of cloth, the crinkle of something like paper, and the tinkle of gemstones hitting each other.  It was all a confusing and strange mess, but over it all was a sense of iron control and unyielding . . . wisdom, that was the only word I could think of to describe it.

    And above all else, she was powerful!

    That aura of her power . . . even as tightly controlled as it was, I could feel it pressing against my own presence, and there was no doubt in my mind of which would yield if push came to shove.  The only time I¡¯d ever felt anything stronger than this had been when I caught a glimpse of the titan Typhon in that vision.

    As for the other woman, she was far more attention grabbing, despite the many similarities that they shared.

    The figure on the right wasn¡¯t quite as tall, but she still stood at least a handspan taller than me.  Unlike the other woman she was clad in more modern clothes, leather biker pants and a well-worn yellow tank top.  Her feet were sheathed in leather boots, that seemed to be more practical than decorative, since they were visibly worn down and had flat soles rather than killer heels.

    Her figure was more obviously athletic, corded muscles moving under her bare skin and pressing against her close-fitting clothes, but it was also generous.  Both her hips and her breasts were full and taut, the kind of body that would be found in a Victoria¡¯s Secret catalogue.  She also had apparently no problem with showing it off, because her top was tight, tight enough for me to clearly see that she neither wore a bra, nor apparently needed one.

    Her face matched her body, she was just as beautiful as the other woman, though in a distinctly different way.  Her skin was dark even darker than my own, and her hair was black as a midnight sky.  It was also styled into a cascade of coils, rather then the smooth flow of the first woman.  Some of it was woven into tight and long braids held by rings at their ends, while other parts of her hair hung loose, curling freely down her back.  Her face was less . . . refined than the first woman but was in no way inferior.  Her features were more earthy, almost sensual, with full lips and dark eyes in a heart-shaped face.  Just like the other woman she had a certain agelessness to her, looking as though she could have been anywhere from barely a year or two older than me, to even in her early forties.

    I noted that small golden hoops hung from her earlobes, and I could see a trio of small golden rings hanging from the upper edge of her left ear.  The jewellery seemed almost out of place, but still served to highlight her features rather than distract from them.

    The combination of features, body, and clothes made her not simply beautiful, it made her smoking hot!

    And just like the other woman power hung heavy around her, a thick aura that I was sure even the most magically insensitive mortal would have been able to feel.  However, unlike the other woman this power didn¡¯t feel light, instead it felt . . . restrained.

    I blinked as I felt it, a sense that what my magic was conveying to me was nothing more than the outer layer of her power, a mere skin.  But that skin wasn¡¯t sitting there, it was holding back pressure, immense, overwhelming pressure.  No, it wasn¡¯t a skin, it was a dam!  A dam that held back enormous amounts of . . . something, I couldn¡¯t tell what.  What I was sure about was that whatever was being restrained was in no way passive.  It was roiling behind that dam, churning and seething with power I couldn¡¯t get my head around.  I couldn¡¯t sense it, not directly, but I knew that it was there, could sense its echoes through the force that restrained it.

    My eyes darted up and met those of the black-haired woman, and despite the distance still separating us I could read her with eerie certainty.  She knew I had sensed something of the power she was holding in, and more than that, she knew I knew she knew.  He lips drew back in a small smile, and one eye closed in a brief wink.

    Then the crushing feeling of straining power was gone.  Her aura remained, I could tell she was powerful, vastly so, maybe even stronger than the first woman, but that feeling of strain, of barely held back force, it had disappeared like a dream after waking.

    I supposed that if I wanted to describe them as simply as I could then I would have said the first woman was a stunning stateswoman, then the second was hot bad girl.  It was a juvenile way to categorize them, but my excuse was that I was tired, I was sore, and I was not expecting to face such beauties out of nowhere.

    ¡°So . . . was the mud and blood a fashion choice?  Because I can tell you, it really works for you, in my opinion.¡±

    The dark-haired woman¡¯s voice was as dark as the rest of her appearance, slightly throaty, definitely attractive.  For some reason I found myself thinking of chocolate, if her voice was a food then it would have been rich milk chocolate.

    ¡°Ah . . . no,¡± I tried to gather my wits to reply. ¡°No, I . . . I¡¯ve just been in a fight.  Things . . . things got out of hand and I got more banged up than I was expecting.¡±

    ¡°You have been in battle?  What manner of foe did you face?  Some sort of beast?¡±

    This time it was the first woman who spoke, her voice regal, sophisticated, a slight accent to it that I couldn¡¯t quite place.

    ¡°It . . . it was a demigod, actually,¡± I replied hesitantly, my eyes darting between them, then looking to Hadriel who was wearing a blank expression. ¡°He was out of control, but I managed to fix him.¡±

    As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to yank them back.  They didn¡¯t need to know that!  Etienne didn¡¯t need others knowing about him, not when he wanted to be alone.  I mentally floundered, trying to think of something to say, anything!  But nothing came to mind, my thoughts almost feeling fuzzy.  Tired, I was just too damned tired for this!

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯ve had your first real fight then?¡± The dark-haired woman stepped forward, her eyes raking me in a way that made feel naked before her, but also kind of flattered at the same time. ¡°You don¡¯t move like a loser, so I¡¯m guessing that you came out of it as the winner then.  Did you have to beat this other demigod into submission before you could fix him?¡±

    Her tone was cheerful, but there was a hungry undertone to her words, an excitement and bloodthirst that I was only seeing the edges of.  I also noted that unlike Joan or Hadriel this woman spoke less formally, her speech showing clear familiarity with the English language, rather than their perfect but stiff knowledge of it.

    ¡°We can speak of such matters at some later point, there are more urgent matters for us to concern ourselves with at this time.¡±

    The first woman spoke before I could reply, her voice commanding and tinged with impatience.  It wasn¡¯t harsh, but something about it was the final straw on the camel¡¯s back, and I felt something give in me.  Before anyone could say anything else, I held up a palm in a halting gesture, the movement sharp enough to draw attention.

    ¡°Look,¡± I said, doing my best to stay as calm as I could, but unable to keep a tinge of irritation from entering my voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure that why ever you¡¯ve come here is important, but you¡¯ve waited for me to get back here, so can you wait another few minutes?¡±

    The dark-haired woman grinned, while the grey-eyed woman frowned slightly and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off by speaking first.

    ¡°Look, right now I¡¯m dirty, sore, and don¡¯t even have clothes that are in one piece.  I¡¯m sure you can spare me at least a few minutes so that I don¡¯t look like I¡¯m about to fall over, alright?¡±

    I phrased it as a question, but I didn¡¯t even wait for an answer, instead I just turned and strode into the farmhouse, not even looking back.  I could certainly have been more diplomatic about it, that was for sure, but at that precise moment I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to care.  The scarier one of the newcomers seemed to be more amused than offended by my attitude, and that was enough for me.

    I might not be able to get the sleep I desperately wanted, but I was not going to face anything else until I had had a shower and put on a fresh change of clothes.  Once that was done, I¡¯d at least be ready to face whatever these two wanted while not feeling like I¡¯d lost a fight with a gravel lorry.

 Chapter 16: Journeyéˆ¥æªš End: Part Two

    Joan looked to Adam¡¯s retreating form, glanced back to their ¡®guests¡¯, met honoured Hadriel¡¯s eyes, then offered a quick bow before following after her charge.

    In all truth she wasn¡¯t sure if she was horrified or impressed by the young demigod¡¯s action.  On the one hand he had just potentially offended their two very powerful guests, who had a well-earned reputation of being . . . less than forgiving of those that crossed them.  On the other hand, since they hadn¡¯t started demanding his blood, then he might have successfully kept them from establishing dominance over him.

    ¡°Adam, you did well to take the control of the flow of the conversation,¡± She began as she followed him up the stairs. ¡°But I am uncertain of how-¡±

    Her words were cut off as a dirty and torn collection of rags that had once been a shirt hit the floor just inside the demigod¡¯s room.  Before she could think of restarting Adam had undone his belt and thrown it and the odd bag hanging from it onto his bed.  He then turned to face her, one eyebrow slightly arched as he looked at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have a shower now.  So, you can either stand there and watch me take the rest of my stuff off, or you can give me some privacy.¡±

    Joan blinked, then felt her face redden as the full implication of his words sank in.  she quickly stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.  But even as she did so she heard the sound of a zip being undone, and of fabric falling to the floor.  Despite her best efforts she couldn¡¯t keep memories of the brief sight she¡¯d had of her charge¡¯s naked body in the days after his Awakening.  She felt her face flush redder at the memory, and berated herself for being so easily flustered.

    Through the door she heard the shower being turned on, followed quickly by the sounds of splashing and Adam made use of it.  She hoped that he wouldn¡¯t take too long, though she knew that cleaning his wings would probably take some time.  The French saint just hoped that it wouldn¡¯t be so long that the newcomers grew irritable.

    This out of character behaviour from her charge might be something of a boon when it came to dealing with them.  The Adam that she was familiar with was perhaps a bit too easily awed when meeting those that were of the mythological worlds.  Herself and honoured Hadriel had both stunned him when he had first met them.  That he was able to handle the appearance of two being of an even higher tier than them so . . . deftly should have been heartening.

    Instead she found herself wondering what her charge had faced that had put him in such a frame of mind.

    The task he had been sent on had been judged to be simple, a safe first mission for him to cut his teeth upon.  The corrupted beasts he should have faced may have been dangerous to even prepared mortals, but to someone of Adam¡¯s power they should only have been nuisances at worst.  The information passed to her and honoured Hadriel had indicated that the twisting of the creatures had been the result of an environmental effect, most likely a small rupture in a local ley line.  They had thought that all he would need to do was force his way through the altered animals, then locate and seal the rupture.  His aptitude for controlling mana and magic should have made the task a simple yet challenging one, perfect for his first outing.

    But he¡¯d said that he encountered a demigod, that had been unexpected.  The reports that they¡¯d been sent had made no mention of such a being in the vicinity, let alone its actually being involved in the problem.  How could angels whose specific talents had been for scouting have missed such a detail?

    The resurrected saint supposed that this demigod might have possessed some gift that kept them concealed form detection.  It was a possibility, but so was another explanation, a darker one.  Joan¡¯s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibility of deliberate misinformation, either from the source, or from the report somehow being tampered with before it reached them.   It was a painful thought, that the angels of Heaven itself could not be trusted, but her first duty was to the charge placed upon her by the Almighty, and that came before even her respect for His soldiers.

    As a means of quietly disposing of Adam, sending him against a powerful and out of control demigod was plausible.  As things stood her charge was a long way from coming into his full power, so he was vulnerable, especially if he had not been expecting such a serious challenge.  And there would have been no way to be certain of his ultimate fate, the matter ruled as a tragic misfortune.  With the resources needed to keep the forces of hell in check it was unlikely that more assets could be diverted, so . . .

    Joan shook her head, leaning back against the wall next to the door she had exited.  She disliked the path her thoughts were travelling, feeling them begin to stink of paranoia rather than reason, but she would be remiss in her duty if she did not at least consider the likelihood of such notions.

    Who might seek to sabotage Adam¡¯s first independent action?  Who would benefit?  Who had the means to alter the angelic reports?  Such questions and more bubbled up in her mind, but the answers that she came up with were frustratingly vague.  Few knew of his existence in anything more than the most general of terms.  The entire world knew that a powerful demigod had Awakened, his aura illuminating most of the world had seen to that.  However, those that knew who he was, that he had a destiny, that the Lord of the Heavens Himself had placed value on him, were far fewer in number.  Of that number the vast majority were angels, and those were of the higher ranks, those that knew Bath Kol on a close level.

    Could it be one of them?  It was a . . . bitter thought, that one of the paragons of the High Heavens that she had known would seek to harm her charge, but she had to at least contemplate the thought.  Even angels of the highest tier were not incorruptible, the fall of Lucifer had proven that.

    The sound of the water cut off, and Joan could hear her charge moving around.

    Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, letting the crown of her skull rest against the wood and plaster behind her.

    Was she overthinking this?  Was she so determined to protect the young demigod that she was seeing threats where there were none?  Could she be seeing nothing more than misfortune and perceiving it as signs of some non-existent betrayal?

    There was just no way to know, not for certain, she did not have enough information.  All she could do was guard Adam as best as she could.  That should be somewhat easier from now on, since she had no intention of letting him go off on his own any time soon.

    She heard soft voices from downstairs, vague words she couldn¡¯t make out, but recognized as belonging to the newcomers.  At that her eyes opened, and she came up from her resting pose.

    The resurrected saint did not fear them, not while they were bound by their oaths of hospitality, but what the represented was enough to put her on edge.  Joan dearly would have wished for more time, time for Adam to grow stronger, more skilled, more experienced.  He had such potential, but the interruption of his Awakening had badly hamstrung the demigod¡¯s ability to reach that height of power.  Indeed, had it not been for him possessing a halo it might have taken months or even years to reach the point he had.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    All of that meant he was vulnerable, far more so than he should be.  And now the powers of the world were closing in on him.

    When Joan had first been given this task, she¡¯d thought her duty, after his Awakening, would be that of a bodyguard.  Adam would be powerful enough to stand on the upper tiers of power, to be shoulder to shoulder with the likes of divine kings.  Joan knew that her own might could not stand on such a stage, so she thought she would act to keep him safe from the weaker threats that could circumvent such strength.  Assassins, poison, spies, those were the concerns she would have to face.

    Now though . . .

    Joan inhaled, then let the breath out in a long slow sigh.  This was a path her thoughts had run so many times over the last few weeks that she feared it might be wearing a rut in her brain.  She was as unlikely to come up with a solution now as she had been the dozens of times before, so she must not allow herself to be caught up in it once more.  She should focus on what had changed and what she could do.

    Adam had seen battle, real battle by the looks of it, and that was important.  Their black-haired guest had not been wrong in her assessment that the young demigod did not have the air of one defeated, so he must have gained some measure of victory.  That was good.  Now that he understood how real fights could be, how fast, and messy, and chaotic, the next part of his training could begin.

    A smile touched her face as she thought of his reaction.  The winged demigod was unlikely to enjoy it, given that it would mean her and honoured Hadriel holding back on him far less, but in the end it would be to his benefit.  There was an old saying about how the more you sweat in peace then the less you bleed in war.  Joan regarded it as sound advice, but felt that there was a logical progression to it, once you followed it through.  The more one bled in peace then the less one died in war.

    Her thoughts were interrupted as the door beside her opened and Adam stepped out.

    It was clear that he¡¯d prepared himself in a hurry, because his hair was still damp and only slightly ordered by a few quick brushes, or so it looked.  He¡¯d changed into fresh clothes, ones that he hadn¡¯t worn in training yet, given their neat creases and tidy state.  The same went for his shoes, these being simple business shoes, rather than the trainers he¡¯d used most of the time.  His shirt, a simple blue button-up one, was less neat due to the quick cuts he¡¯d made to the back to accommodate his wings.  It was similar to the modification she¡¯d seen him do before but done in haste.  Still, it allowed him to wear the shirt with some comfort and without looking absurd, so she could understand why he¡¯d done it.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Her charge said, turning to face her. ¡°I feel a bit more alive now.  How do we do this?¡±

    He was putting on a brave face, but she could see that he was still tired.  She hoped that the coming introductions wouldn¡¯t take too long, but she doubted that would be the case. Something like this, something this important, was unlikely to be over swiftly.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    It was growing dark outside, the sun set while I was frantically cutting another shirt, a proper shirt, so it would fit on me.

    The main living room of the farmstead seemed to be a far better setting for a meeting, and I was glad I¡¯d made them wait for it.  It was not only brightly lit by electric lights but also feeling oddly formal.  Once, years back when this building had housed several families that worked here, this room would have served as a communal meeting hall, the place where both grave meetings and joyous celebrations would have been held.  With the refurbishment it had been altered into a combination of a lounge and a study.  One wall was taken up with several bookcases, though they stood mostly empty at the moment.  Another wall was taken up by a long mirror that ran above an ornate fireplace.  Old slitted windows ran along a third wall, letting some light in from the rising moon, while the last wall was mainly empty, save for the doorway that led into the room.  There were several leather armchairs placed about the room, along with two large leather-bound sofas, a coffee table, and a large mahogany desk.

    However, for all that, it was also a room that all of us could comfortably fit into.  Me, Joan, Hadriel, and our two newcomers.  There was even enough room for me to unfold my wings slightly without having to worry about banging into things.  This had been the room that the warrior angel had shown our guests into while I was doing my best to get myself cleaned up and ready.

    I was feeling much better now, the shower and change of clothes going a long way towards making me feel less like corpse that had dug its way out of a shallow grave and more like myself.  I was still bone weary, but at least I no longer felt like I might fall asleep as soon as I sat down in a chair.

    Evidently the grey-eyed woman was of a similar opinion on my appearance, because she gave a nod of approval as I stepped into the room.

    ¡°Perhaps taking some time to care for yourself was a wise choice.¡± She commented, turning from the bookshelf where she had been studying one of the few books there. ¡°I trust that your short respite has given you some more energy to face us with?¡±

    I nodded, doing my best not to stare at her.

    It was difficult, really difficult.  Even though she was just standing there, as casually as if she were in her own home, she still managed to seem almost impossibly glamourous.  She was a stateswoman, a queen, a beautiful idol that demanded veneration and adulation by her mere existence.  Now that I was rested it was even harder that before not to feel star-struck, as though my earlier exhaustion had somehow fogged my vision and I was only now seeing her clearly.

    ¡°Aww, I don¡¯t know,¡± That rich and tantalizing voice drew my attention away to the black-haired woman, who was lounging on one of the sofas. ¡°I kinda thought that the blood and mud look worked for you, really brought home the man-fresh-from-the-battlefield vibe you had going.¡±

    She was slouched in a way that should have looked almost slobbish, but instead she managed to make it seem seductive and primal, like a panther lounging in the sun.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I replied, amazed that I managed to keep my voice steady. ¡°But getting me cleaned up makes me feel human again.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  But you can aim higher than that, can¡¯t you?¡±

    Her tone was playful, but I could hear that hungry edge in there again, one that sent a cold shiver sown my spine that had nothing to do with her beauty.

    ¡°Be that as it may,¡± The first woman broke in. ¡°I believe that it is time for introductions?¡±

    Her eyes turned to Joan, who had followed me into the room, then flicked over to Hadriel, who had been standing beside the fireplace, arms folded as she watched our ¡®guests¡¯.

    I turned my head to see a silent look being exchanged between my protectors, then Joan stepped forwards, turning to face me as she did.  It was odd, she was just wearing the simple dress she favoured when not wearing her war gear, but her poise and stance made me think of her as every bit as impressive as she would have been in full armour and carrying her sword.

    ¡°Adam,¡± She calmly stated, her eyes locked with mine. ¡°It is my privilege to introduce our esteemed visitors.¡±

    She gestured towards the first woman, who had stepped away from the bookshelf and was now fully facing me.

    ¡°This is Lady Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus and a goddess of the Olympian pantheon.¡±

    The French saint turned and indicated the other woman, who was now sitting up and facing me in a much more formal manner.

    ¡°It is my further honour to introduce you to the goddess Kali, of the Hindu pantheon.¡±

    For a moment the world seemed to freeze in place around me as my thoughts raced, tripped, collapsed in a heap, and then tried to pick themselves up into some semblance of cohesion.  In a few moments I would regain myself, I would mentally scramble to try and recall all that I knew about these goddesses in particular, but that would be later.

    At that moment, as I stared at the beautiful, powerful, and above all dangerous women before me only one thought occupied my mind.  It had finally happened; the gods had come crashing into my life.  I¡¯d been aware that I would eventually be needed to interact with them, but I¡¯d always thought it would be later, when I was stronger, more experienced, ready to operate on such a high level of power.  But that wasn¡¯t the case, they were here now, and I had to deal with them.

    What was I thinking?  It could vaguely equate it to a mocking voice in the back of my mind saying; ¡®welcome to the big leagues, chump¡¯.

    Outside rain began to fall.

 Epilogue 1: Rogues

    Epilogue 1: Rogues

    Marcello found the way that the rain was pouring down to be oddly appropriate.  It lent a certain ambience to the situation that seemed well deserved.

    This very country was weeping for what had been lost.

    The last two days had been a mad rush, one thing taking place after another so fast that he¡¯d barely been able to catch his breath, let alone stop and think.  Everything had been about reaction, about doing his best in the moment without any time to prepare, or so it had seemed.

    He was well aware that he wasn¡¯t a player in this game, he knew that he was a pawn of the immortal he had made a deal with, but he¡¯d thought that he¡¯d at least have had some impact on how matters unfolded.  When he¡¯d been called to fulfil his debt, he¡¯d not thought he¡¯d be a key figure in it, but he¡¯d thought he would have some role, maybe as a lookout, or disabling some sort of security measure.  Both were roles his skills were suited for.

    Instead, he¡¯d been reduced to the part of a tool.  He hadn¡¯t been a participant; all he¡¯d been was what amounted to a walking carry case!

    The scarred man closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the window that he¡¯d been staring out of.  The glass was cool against his skin, and he could feel the headache that had been building up start to recede.  Stepping back, he turned and took in the room he was currently hiding in, as well as the other occupants.

    The place itself was the dusty office of an abandoned warehouse.  It sat in an unused corner of a dock on the southern coast of England, something that had just faded into the background, no longer important to anyone.  In a few years, it would probably be torn down to make way for something more profitable.  However, for the time being, it served their purposes.

    The other occupants seemed to be undaunted by the thick layer of dust coating everything, as well as the absolute lack of any sort of furniture.  The immortal he¡¯d made a deal with had been the one to select those who¡¯d perform her mission, and her chosen agents had been . . . unusual, to say the least.  None of them had offered any of their names, and none of them had spoken to him more than had been absolutely necessary.

    The apparent leader of the group was a seemingly young man, his features hidden by a hood with a cloth masking the lower half of his face.  Marcello had been sceptical of him serving in such an important role, but the oddly dressed man had proven himself to be a thief of considerable skill.  The scarred mage had seen him use magic and some sort of inherent powers during their mission. Both had been used with efficiency and proficiency.  He¡¯d also seemed to have a good sense of when to press on and when to pull back, his decisions having let them avoid encounters with mortal guards and even the supernatural protections they¡¯d encountered.  Why the immortal had chosen him to lead this group was fairly obvious.

    The second member was a woman of about Marcello¡¯s age, though she had paid him even less mind than the other mage had.  She¡¯d been dressed a bit more conventionally, at least once she took off the black balaclava that she¡¯d been wearing during their task.  The only word the scarred mage could think to describe her was ¡®hard¡¯.  Her features might as well have been carved from granite for all the warmth there.  She wore the sort of gear he¡¯d have expected from some army agent having to sneak into a terrorist base.  During their mission, she¡¯d been the one to act when violence was needed, soundlessly killing those too much in the way, and doing it with a casualness and familiarity that sent a chill down his back.

    Still, it was the last member of their group that unsettled him the most.  The others were aloof, but Marcello had worked with true psychopaths in the past, even before being pulled into the world of myths and magic.  He¡¯d never liked it, but he¡¯d had to sit down and work with the sorts of sick killers that managed to thrive in the rotten underbelly of civilization.  He¡¯d been able to stomach their twisted interests, and even turn a blind eye to those that begged to be saved from them.  So, dealing with the first two members of this mission had been something he was used to.  The third one though . . .

    Like Marcello, the final member of the group seemed to have been brought along simply for one task, the other two treating them as little more than a mobile piece of equipment.  Unlike Marcello, he had made no comment, protest, or effort to assert himself.  Instead, he had remained stonily silent, almost inhumanly so.  Had it not been for the sound of him breathing the scarred mage would have wondered if the final member of their group wasn¡¯t some sort of golem or construct.

    The man¡¯s appearance didn¡¯t help either.  He was dressed in nothing except a simple black kilt about his hips.  Everything else, from his face to his toes, was concealed beneath a wrapping of thick black bandages.  The wrappings did little to conceal the large frame of the man though, the thick muscles of his limbs, or the thick dark brown mane that grew from his head.  What they did conceal were the features of his face, even the eyes being obscured, though it didn¡¯t seem to bother him.  Ultimately, his strange dress and the even stranger way he carried himself gave him a certain inhumanity that almost made the scarred man think of the hell-driven homunculi beneath his ally¡¯s castle.

    Even as he looked at them Marcello couldn¡¯t help feeling shocked at the situation.  The four of them had done something impossible today.  They should have been celebrating, or at the very least look and feel flushed with victory.  Instead, they were all standing in different parts of the dusty office, watching each other warily, with no sense of accomplishment or camaraderie.

    He looked down at the long cloth-wrapped bundle he held in his arms.  It was clasped tightly to his body, and it would remain so for as long as he had breath in him.  The immortal had told him in gruesome detail what would happen if he didn¡¯t.  He¡¯d rather die in battle than face such a fate.  Still, considering what the bundle held he could understand why she was so vehement about it.

    Even wrapped as it was he could not have mistaken it for anything else.  The wrapping was a creation of the immortal, a master working of alchemical creation and spell weaving into a material construct, something that had stunned him when he first saw it.  Marcello knew the immortal stood at one of the pinnacles of mastery over magic, but seeing it so obviously demonstrated was something else.  Still, as exceptional as the enspelled wrapping was, it was worthless compared to what it held.

    He could see it in his mind¡¯s eyes, the immaculate golden sheen, the enamelled crimson decorated with rubies, the line of tiny runes running down the inside.  But beyond the mere physical appearance, there had been the feeling of its power.  He¡¯d only seen a glimpse before it had been wrapped in the cloth and that power had been hidden, but even that brief glance had been enough to sear itself into his memory.

    He had seen treasures before, both the ones the immortal had tempted him with and the ones his fellow servant had gathered, but none of them came close to the majesty of the item he carried.  The potency, the purity, the quality, all of them reached into a tier of being that even a deity would admire.  That power had been soft and passive, but even so, it had been so strong that he¡¯d felt his heart quail simply from being in its presence.  But then again, considering what it was, was that any sort of surprise?

    The nameless sheath of Excalibur.  To Marcello, it had always seemed strange.  Excalibur had a name, one that was known about the world, yet the sheath did not.  In legend, even Merlin himself had acknowledged the sheath as being of greater value than the sword.  Excalibur was a weapon that knew few peers, a blade able to carve through the invulnerable, a sword able to slay even the supposedly unkillable.  The scabbard imparted immortality and near invincibility, keeping its wielder from harm and healing what little damage could be dealt.  In the end, Arthur had only been defeated because the sheath had been stolen from him, and yet it had no name.

    It still dizzied his mind that they had been able to get it out of Buckingham Palace, given that it was now one of the most secure locations in the entire United Kingdom, maybe even the entire European continent.  After King Arthur had returned the British royal family had offered him rooms in the palace, and he had accepted.  The move had been a good one, as it lent legitimacy to both the returned king and the current royal line, an action that had helped stabilize the UK during the return of the myths and legends of the world.  Then, with the returned King living there, the Knights of the Round Table had set to work in turning the palace into a fortress.

    And the four of them had managed to break in and steal one of the most powerful artefacts in the world from it.

    Marcello dearly wished he could say that his own actions had helped in the monumental task, but the truth was that he¡¯d done very little.  In fact, the whole group had faced far fewer obstacles than he¡¯d been expecting.  From what he¡¯d been able to glean in the few spare moments he¡¯d had after they fled with their prize the immortal that sent them had chosen to do far more than simply trust in their ability to steal the scabbard.

    No less than three supernatural events had hit Britain.  All on the same day, all at the same time.

    Manchester had been attacked by a pack of black hounds, beings of shadow and fire that had rampaged through its streets attacking and destroying any artificial source of light they could find.  Birmingham had been infested with strange misty wraiths that clung to people and lulled them into a deep sleep they didn¡¯t seem able to wake from.  London itself had been sent into chaos as spectral horses made of water and blood rose out of the Thames and began to run amok through the city.

    These disturbances explained why the palace had seemed somewhat empty when they sneaked in, but the mage was sure that there had been even more going on.  Those who would normally have been there to block their entrance were instead deployed elsewhere.  Still, Marcello had no idea of how the immortal had engineered events so that Arthur had been forced to depart without taking the scabbard with him.  True, it had been left protected by some of the most potent defences he¡¯d ever seen, but it was still strange that the returned king had not taken it with him.

    Of course, thinking of how they had been able to steal the scabbard at all made the scarred mage turn his attention back to the bandage-wrapped figure.  That one had only done one thing throughout the entire ¡®heist¡¯, and that had been to reach through the myriad of defences around the scabbard and pick it up.  There were protections that should have repelled even a god, and he took the legendary artefact as easily as if it had been on a shelf in a shop.

    It hurt Marcello¡¯s head just trying to think about how much power must have been involved in that one act of picking up the sheath.  Like a mouse standing next to an elephant, he¡¯d been able to get a general idea of the sheer power of those protections, even if they were so far beyond his own abilities.  This man . . . was he some sort of demigod?  One with some sort of absurdly powerful magic resistance or cancelling?  Neither seemed right since there hadn¡¯t been any sense of clashing or suppressed energies.  It must have been something else, but he had no clues as to what it might have been.

    ¡°Why the long face?  You have aided in a theft that will become a new legend, is that not worth some good cheer?¡±

    The scarred mage managed to keep from yelping in fear, but he wasn¡¯t able to keep from visibly jumping at the sudden voice.  Wildly whipping his head around he saw the figure of the immortal standing beside him, her stance a casual one as she glanced at him, then the other occupants of the dusty room.  Of the others, only the masked man and the hard-faced woman reacted, both of them tensing as though expecting a fight to break out, then slowly relaxing, if only slightly, when they recognised the speaker.  The bandage-wrapped man paid her no mind at all, as though her appearance were no more significant than the footsteps of an ant.

    Before Marcello could even think of replying she was suddenly leaning close to him, her entire attention fixed upon the wrapped bundle in his arms.

    ¡°Excellent.  You have followed my instructions and maintained the seal by keeping it close to your body.  It would have been unfortunate if you had made some error.¡± She paused and glanced up at him, her face deadpan. ¡°Cleaning up after your punishment would have been . . . tedious.¡±

    As she spoke the air in the room became . . . thicker, oppressive.  It wasn¡¯t anything as overt as her flexing her power or manifesting it in some way.  Instead, it was the simple flexing of her personality, a reflection of a will and character that had endured for longer than many of the countries that currently claimed their place in the world.  All she was doing was letting down the act of being a ¡®normal¡¯ magic user.  All she was doing was letting them sense just a bit of who she really was.

    For just a moment the scarred mage felt fear grip his heart as he was once again reminded of just how great a gulf of power separated him from the sorceress before him, then his own will brought the emotion to heel.  He might not be her equal, but he was still a magic-user, someone who had carved their own path to power through their will and discipline.  More than that, by her own admission she needed him, enough that him failing to obey her orders would have inconvenienced her, if nothing else.  That meant he had leverage, even if it was only slight, perhaps enough for him to sate a question that had been burning at him.

    ¡°Why me?¡±

    The sorceress raised an eyebrow at the question, perhaps surprised that he¡¯d been able to ask it, given her small demonstration of power.  A darting glance showed that the man and the woman were both tense once more, though the bandaged member of their group remained as uncaring as before.

    ¡°Oh?  What do you mean, Marcello?¡±

    Her tone was playful, and he immediately knew that if he were to gain any answers from her it would simply be because she found it to be amusing.  Or because it was somehow advancing one of her plans.  Perhaps even both, there was no way to tell.  Still, he wanted his answers, so he wasn¡¯t going to be picky about how he got them.

    ¡°Why did you send me?  Those two . . .¡± He gestured at the others, uncaring of how their glares flicked to him in response. ¡°. . . could obviously have done the job without me.  Either one of them could have held the sheath, so why did you send me along to carry it out?¡±

    ¡°Because only you could use it as was intended.¡±

    For a moment Marcello could only stare at her, wondering if he had accidentally spoken aloud, or if she had somehow read his mind.

    ¡°No,¡± She said, her voice just as playful as before. ¡°I do not need to read your mind, your question is clear enough, to those that have the eyes to see it.  It is written across your entire form.¡±

    The immortal paused, leaning back slightly as she studied the mage who had, perhaps foolishly, allowed himself to end up in her debt.

    ¡°Why me?  Why did you send me along like this?  I was superfluous, there wasn¡¯t any need for me to be there!¡±

    The questions were almost pleas, but the statement was spoken with just a touch of anger.  It was foolish, to show any sort of discourtesy was the same as a peasant offering insult to a king, but his frustration and bewilderment at the whole situation were wearing down his self-control.

    The amusement went out of the immortal¡¯s expression as she continued to level her stare at him.  It wasn¡¯t cold, it wasn¡¯t hot, rather it was flat, detached, a reminder that to her he was nothing more than the lowliest of serfs scrabbling a meagre existence out of the dirt.  It only lasted for a moment, but for that brief span, he felt his heart freeze in his chest.

    Then she smiled, an amused smile of someone who had seen an animal perform some sort of entertaining feat, and he could once more feel the familiar beating in his chest.

    ¡°Oh, Marcello, I am forever wondering if you are daring or simply a fool.  Still, you are interesting, so I shall indulge you in this matter.¡±

    She reached out and tapped the wrapped scabbard with one manicured fingernail, the simple touch causing the spell designs woven into the material of the cloth to light up and glow a sapphire blue.  Even though the cloth was wrapped and folded he could still see the whole thing, as though it were spreading out before him.  As before Marcello was staggered by both the complexity and the power of the designs, but this time he saw something he hadn¡¯t been able to make out before.  Though the spell-work was far beyond anything he could unravel, his own skills were enough to note that there was something wrong.

    Part of it was . . . missing.  It wasn¡¯t a central part, but it was a significant portion.  What was even stranger was that it was clear that the blank gap in the design was deliberate.  He could see where the connecting lines framed the emptiness so they could attach to something else, rather than just being cut off as if they had been erased, or just left incomplete.  It was almost as incomprehensible as it was impossible.  The level of skill needed to make such an empty space on so complex a design went beyond his ability to imagine!  It shouldn¡¯t even be possible.  But she had done it, somehow.

    What he couldn¡¯t understand was why she had done so.  This . . . this was like a painter creating a masterpiece on a par with the Mona Lisa, but doing so in bright vivid neon colours that required expert chemistry to create.  It wasn¡¯t a perfect metaphor, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything more accurate.  It just . . . didn¡¯t make sense!  Why . . . ?  How . . . ?  His train of thought stuttered and shook as he tried to understand what he was seeing.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°You see it, do you not?  The spot where a key component is missing, a hole in the spell weave.  Do you know what it means?¡±

    The immortal¡¯s voice was light, that of an adult trying to lead a child to a logical conclusion as part of their education.

    ¡°It . . . it shouldn¡¯t work,¡±  Marcello mumbled, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. ¡°If it¡¯s incomplete then the whole shouldn¡¯t be able to function, it should be no more powerful than a common tablecloth.  It shouldn¡¯t be able to keep the sheath concealed, so . . .¡±

    ¡°And yet it does,¡± She broke into his thoughts, her smug smile practically audible in her voice. ¡°At this very minute some of the greatest mages in the country are bending their efforts to locate it, knights trained by Merlin himself for a task such as this, yet they find nothing, their every effort frustrated.  And as long as you keep holding it to your body they shall continue to be thwarted.  What do you think that means?¡±

    He blinked at her, his thoughts racing as he tried to reconcile what she¡¯d said with what he knew.  It shouldn¡¯t work, yet it did, as long as he was holding it.  What did that mean?  Why was him holding it important?  There was a chunk missing from the entire weave, how was holding it making up for-

    His entire train of thought came to a screeching halt as something finally clicked into place.  it must have shown on his face because the immortal allowed another pleased smile to spread across her own lips.

    ¡°It¡¯s me . . .¡± Marcello said slowly. ¡°The missing part . . . I¡¯m filling it in, right?¡±

    ¡°Good, I was wondering when you would figure it out.  Yes, the binding only works when it is touching your body since your lifeforce spreads to it and fills out the emptiness left in the design.¡±

    She sounded pleased, both with herself and with him.  Her eyes glittered with anticipation as she waited for him to finish working it out, to ask the question that he now suspected she wanted to answer.

    ¡°Me . . . there¡¯s something about me that lets it work.  I filled it in . . .  I let it work.  That¡¯s why you wanted me on this . . . theft, so I could get it to work.¡±

    His eyes narrowed as he continued, the question he thought she wanted coming forth easily.

    ¡°What was it?  What was it about me that made it important for me to use this and carry the sheath?¡±

    Once again, silence claimed reign over the small room as the immortal sorceress simply smiled.  Behind her the scarred mage noted that the other two were moving restlessly, but as before the last member of the group was as unresponsive as a manikin.

    ¡°There is something inside you,¡± She explained, a certain relish in her tone. ¡°Something hidden, something . . . dead.  You shall never be able to make use of it yourself, but it is there, and it has power.  Call it a relic of a bloodline, a withered and decayed remnant of something that was once so much more.  Under normal circumstances, it would be useless, rare to be sure, but only worth a passing note.¡±

    Her smile changed, gaining an edge that might well have been a match for that of Excalibur itself.

    ¡°But such lost powers were always an interest of mine.  And in the centuries since I have been exiled from this world, I have needed something to keep myself entertained as I waited.  My experiments were limited of course, due to a lack of subjects, but I was able to create theories and test some aspects of them.  In that, I must offer my thanks to you, Marcello.  You have successfully proven that my suppositions were correct.¡±

    Her words were grateful, but that ¡®successfully¡¯ hung in his mind like a hangman¡¯s noose.  For him to be ¡®successful¡¯ meant that there had most likely been those before him that had been ¡®unsuccessful¡¯ and in the world of power and magic failing to successfully use power of any sort, especially old powers tied to your blood, tended to be . . . unforgiving.  How many had been unsuccessful before him?  And how sure had she been that he would be a success?

    ¡°What you have is . . . unusual,¡± The immortal continued.  ¡°It is nothing so simple as some forgotten spell of great power or blood-locked ritual.  It is an ability to . . . reflect the power of artefacts and creatures back upon themselves.  I imagine that in ages past your ancestors must have been formidable foes, able to turn the power of spells and attacks back upon themselves, neutralizing them with only the use of a tiny amount of their own reserves.  I doubt that it was perfect, but it would have been the sort of advantage that would have made them legends.¡±

    She paused for a moment, her eyes . . . unkind.

    ¡°One would wonder why there are no such legends.  What could have happened to ensure that such a bloodline left no lasting record upon history?  Perhaps they grew arrogant in their abilities and challenged one that wiped them out.  Perhaps some being of power took note of them and chose to remove them before they could grow into a threat. I do not know.

    ¡°What I am certain of, is that the remnant within you is of use to me.  Though you could never access it yourself, weaving your presence into the spell work allowed my shroud to contain the energies of the scabbard.  Your power allowed my shroud to reflect those energies, cause them to cancel themselves out.  As long as you hold it then it does not matter if Merlin himself were to seek it out, no hint of its power can be found.¡±

    That explained so much, why he was here, why his job had been just one thing, why she¡¯d been willing to part with such treasures in order to secure his service for this.  If he was simply here to ensure the scabbard could not be traced by any magical means, and nothing else, then it was still a decent deal for her.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t help but feel . . . slighted.  As though this wasn¡¯t him repaying a debt, but rather him being used blatantly and carelessly.

    It wasn¡¯t a surprise.  In fact, it was something that he¡¯d been expecting.  This was an immortal after all, how much possible value or worth could mortals have in her eyes, even mortals that held her interest?  She¡¯d made a show of commenting on how much she wished she could have recruited him before his patron had, but how much of that had been sincere?  How much of it had been an act, something meant to stroke his ego and leave him more willing to accede to her whims?

    ¡°How did we take the scabbard?  The protections on it could have held back an army, so how did we just take it?¡±

    He knew he was skating on thin ice, but he couldn¡¯t keep himself from asking.  It was as though the self-control he normally wore like armour was fracturing, flaking away in the face of the immortal¡¯s infuriating amusement.  Knowing how this impossible theft had happened . . . somehow it was suddenly more important than just pure curiosity. It was as though by knowing he¡¯d be able to lessen this humiliation.

    ¡°Oh?  You wish to know more?  How greedy of you.¡± Eyes deep enough to drown him narrowed, then relaxed. ¡°Very well, I will allow you to know.  Consider it an act of gratitude for your part in my plans.¡±

    He knew this reveal was not for his benefit, she was simply showing him so he could clap for her.  He was the audience that she could crow her brilliance to.  It was oddly juvenile, but it was also human in a way that he hadn¡¯t been expecting from a millennia-old sorceress.

    His thoughts were cut off as she turned from him and strode over towards the bandage-wrapped member of their group.  Even though it was a simple action she moved with an impossible liquid grace that put even the most accomplished dancer he¡¯d ever seen to shame.  Her passage didn¡¯t seem to disturb the air as she moved, and not a single speck of dust was displaced by her footsteps.  For a moment he felt as though she wasn¡¯t there, that she was just a mirage, then she reached the motionless member of their group and demonstrated that she was no mere illusion.

    She reached out, and delicate fingers took hold of the bandages that had been masking the figure''s face.  There was a tiny flash of light, and long nails, that looked as though they had been carefully manicured, were outlined in a soft silver glow.  At a touch from the glowing nail¡¯s edge, the black bandages parted as though severed by a razor edge.  One after another they fell away, revealing a sight so unexpected that Marcello almost dropped the precious burden he carried.

    That face . . . those features . . .  he knew them.  How couldn¡¯t he?  They were some of the most famous in the world, after all.  Still, even as he recognized them he could also see some differences.  The skin was too pallid, almost ghostly.  The hair was darker than it should be and hung in limp and greasy locks about the revealed face.  Eyes that should have been brown were darker, almost black, and were framed by bloodshot whites.

    But for all these differences there was no mistaking the man that had just been revealed.

    Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King himself!

    Marcello felt his mouth open, a barrage of questions waiting on the tip of his tongue to be unleashed.  But then he saw the small self-satisfied smile on the immortal¡¯s face, and he refused to play her game one inch more than he had to.  Instead, he turned his thoughts inwards, trying to deduce just what he was seeing.

    This couldn¡¯t be Arthur himself, that much was clear.  But if that was the case, then who was this?  The simplest explanation was that it was either a facsimile, some construct created in the king¡¯s image, or a person who¡¯d been reshaped to emulate him.  However, neither of those would have explained how the man had been able to draw the scabbard from its protections.  Those defences had been keyed to Arthur specifically, but only the simplest of them would have been fooled by mere physical similarity.

    So . . . what could have disabled those defences?  The way he¡¯d just reached through them, without hesitation or caution . . .

    Those defences had been meant to keep the scabbard safe from anyone.  Even a god would have had to shatter them in order to reach the artefact, and even for a powerful deity, it would not have been an easy task.  The only one that should have been able to reach through them was the rightful owner of the scabbard.  This was a fact, as was their final member being able to reach through those protections as though they were made of air.  Put that all together and it could only mean that this man didn¡¯t simply look like Arthur, in some way he WAS Arthur.

    Obviously, he wasn¡¯t the real Arthur, given that the King had been very publicly seen in Birmingham slaying shadow hounds at the same time as the theft had been taking place.  Then . . . that meant that the man standing silently before him was some sort of copy?  Marcello knew of several spells that could do the equivalent of cloning, growing a copy of a living being from something like a sample of flesh, blood or the like.  The problem was that such spells had limits.  It was one thing to clone a mortal, it was another thing to try to make a copy of an angel or god, the power requirements were immense.

    King Arthur might not be a deity, but he was an existence that was on par with them, a mortal that was only mortal in the loosest sense of the word.  He possessed divine powers but had no divine blood in him.  He was bound to the land in a way that was normally only possible by the most ancient and primal of deities, but he was a man.  Destiny and fate bent and warped about him, yet he was a being cloaked in prophecy and legend.

    A simple copy of his blood and flesh should not have been enough to pass through the scabbard¡¯s defences.  They wouldn¡¯t have simply checked for features and blood, they would have tasted his power, the powers clinging to him, the oaths he had sworn that were binding, they might even have read his very soul.

    His eyes widened as the thought occurred to him.  Soul duplication?  He¡¯d heard of it during his training, but only in that it was as close to impossible as you could get.  Souls were unique and powerful, that was why gods and demons held them in such value.  Simply creating one was difficult in the extreme.  Copying one that already existed was magnitudes more difficult.  Duplicating the soul of a being like Arthur, one with power, destiny and a collection of other souls tied to it . . . that would require the combined efforts of more than a dozen powerful and skilled gods.  She was brilliant, but-

    ¡°It is not soul duplication,¡± She interrupted his thoughts, one hand reaching up to stroke the side of the copy¡¯s face while her eyes met its empty ones. ¡°Do you think that I could possibly duplicate Arthur when every god and spirit to dwell in this land was unable to even wake him before his time came?  My skills are great, but were I able to duplicate him so then I would be able to become the ruler of these isles, a mere dozen of him sufficient to secure that rule against even the gods themselves.¡±

    She paused, and her caress became a grip.  Marcello watched, slightly horrified, as the nails on her fingers sank into the duplicate¡¯s skin, blood welling up about them as they drove in deeper.  The scarred mage was no stranger to cruelty or even torture.  He¡¯d done things before, things that would have him locked away in any civilized society on the planet, and he could not say he regretted any of it.  He¡¯d done it for power, he¡¯d done it to survive, and he didn¡¯t feel guilty.

    Even so, there was something very disturbing about the way the false Arthur continued to just blankly stare at the immortal, even as rivulets of blood ran down its face.  There was some sort of intelligence there, some sort of awareness, but it was numb, empty, perhaps even less alive than the demon-filled homunculi that his robed associate had created.  All it did was stare as its creator used her bloody grip to pull the face down to her level.

    ¡°But . . . there are different routes to one¡¯s goal, especially if one is willing to make sacrifices.¡±

    The creator and creation were now almost eye to eye, the immortal staring at the duplicate of the Once and Future King with an ugly intensity.

    ¡°Soul resonance, it is difficult to achieve, but flexible once you have it.  Of course, it is not a simple thing to do.  You need a perfectly tuned tool, a suitable opening to exploit, a strong answering force, familiarity with the soul that you hope to attune to, so many things both great and small.¡±

    Her other hand came up, joining the first and framing the face of her creation.  Unlike her first grip, this one was not cruel, and her nails simply sat upon the skin, and the contrast between one gentle hand and the other bloodstained made the sight before him all the more disturbing.

    ¡°Born of his blood and my magic, attuned to him by a shared existence.  In the eyes of the world Arthur and this creation are two parts of the same whole, though the original is vastly the greater portion.  Creating him so the connection would form naturally was difficult, but once the seeds were sown all that was needed was time to let them be ready for harvesting.  Of course, matters were not so simple.

    ¡°The resonance was inconsistent, only fully springing forth when Arthur exerted himself.  When he called upon his power that strength would ripple down the connection, allowing my creation to temporarily harmonize with him and be as one in the eyes of the world.¡±

    She paused again, and he felt more things slide into place.  All these distractions across the country, they weren¡¯t simply to clear the palace of its defenders, they were also to push Arthur to use his strength.  The creatures that had been summoned, shadow wolves, and mist horses, they weren¡¯t powerful or strong, but they were elusive and difficult to deal with.  It was like trying to swat a mosquito with a frying pan, possible, but difficult.

    How much effort had Arthur been expending in not only putting them down but also in holding himself back?  How free had he been with his power when trying to put down the hoards of irritating and frustrating shadow creatures?  Clearly, it had been enough.  Enough for this creation to harmonize with him and for just a brief time be considered to be him by the magical defences protecting his treasured scabbard.

    ¡°Yes,¡± She spoke, once more seeming to read his mind. ¡°For that moment, this was Arthur.  Another Arthur, the same Arthur, a part of him that stood apart.¡±

    Her eyes turned to Marcello.  Or, more specifically, the wrapped scabbard he held in his arms.

    ¡°He has served well.  He has completed the task he was created for, an excellent tool.¡±

    The scarred mage wasn¡¯t entirely sure, but for a brief moment, he thought he saw something flicker in the eyes of the copy.  It was a small thing, but amidst the blank emptiness that seemed to reside in those eyes a tiny spark of . . . satisfaction seemed to stand out like a candle in an endless void.  Then it was gone, as the hand that had been gently holding his face joined the other in cruelty as its nails bit into skin.

    ¡°An excellent tool.¡± She repeated.

    It came so fast that Marcello almost missed it.  That silver glow flashed out again, spreading to cover the bandaged figure in an instant.  Something flickered in those eyes again, maybe a tiny hint of surprise, then it was gone.

    And so were the eyes.  And the face.  And the head.  The duplicate¡¯s entire form was gone, reduced to dust-like ash in an instant, the grey powder drifting to the floor with surreal gentleness.

    ¡°An excellent tool, but one that has served its purpose.  Such a tool should not be left lying about, others may choose to pick it up.¡±

    What was most unsettling was the way that her voice never changed, even as she destroyed her creation.  It remained the same slightly amused tone of a teacher, even as she annihilated a being that must have cost her vast power and resources to create.

    For the first time, Marcello saw a clear reaction from the other members of the group, fear.  Both of them were tense, so much more so than before.  Each of them had bunched muscles, ready to flee at the slightest provocation from the sorceress.  It was their eyes that stood out the most though, darting around, taking in everything, looking for escape routes, even as they filled with a sort of hopelessness.

    He could understand it, after all, what were they to this immortal other than tools?  And she had just demonstrated just how she felt about tools that outlived their use to her.  The scarred mage might have some protection from his association with his patron, but it was increasingly feeling like a thin reed to balance his life upon.

    ¡°Oh, do calm down.  There is no reason to be so fearful,¡± Like someone who had just finished a minor task the immortal dusted off her hands as she spoke, her tone even more amused. ¡°He was too valuable to leave where others could find him, where he might begin to develop a sense of self of his own.  You are all . . . adequate for mortals, but you have little chance of becoming threats to me or my future plans.  Him though . . . he could have been very troublesome.¡±

    A shadow passed across her face, and for an instant, her beautiful features had an ugly cast to them.

    ¡°He might have sought to usurp Arthur.  To try to take his place and his steal power, as if such a wretched half-formed existence could ever succeed.¡±

    A foot kicked out at the remains, stirring the ash briefly before it fell back to the floor.

    ¡°Arthur . . . Arthur is beyond what he could be.  He is beyond what most gods can be.  A king tied to the Land, blessed by spirits as ancient as the very bones of these isles, born of prophecy, raised by the hand of Merlin, nurtured by Avalon into something beyond mortal.  That is Arthur, one that stands upon the edge of invincibility.¡±

    She paused, her eyes turning back to Marcello, fixing upon what he held.

    ¡°Or he used to.  Now he lacks his greatest defence.  He is vulnerable and shall have to be more careful.¡±

    There was glee in her voice now.  But, oddly, there was none of the malice that he had been expecting.  When she said that he¡¯d have to be careful, it wasn¡¯t spoken as though she looked forward to his end, rather it was as though she was . . . hoping it would teach him a lesson?

    The scarred mage was still trying to puzzle it out when the immortal stepped back, turning so that the remaining three members of her small band of thieves were all in her sight.

    ¡°Still, enough with these distractions.  You cannot remain here for long, though my prize is concealed there are other means to find you, though my own protections are delaying them for now.  In the morning you shall embark upon a vessel I have prepared for you.  You shall leave for the continent.  There you shall meet with agents that shall instruct you upon your next steps.¡±

    For a moment Marcello could only stare at her in confusion.

    ¡°What?  You¡¯re not taking the scabbard now?  You could have it at the other side of the world in a few seconds, why have us cart it around?¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help himself, he had to ask why he had to continue on this crazy venture.  He¡¯d helped steal one of the most valuable artefacts in the country, wasn¡¯t that enough?

    ¡°Were I to take it now then it would be all too easy for many of those with power to determine who has it and where I have gone.  No, you shall carry it across the sea and transport it to a location I have prepared.  From there I will be able to safely bear it to a secured location where it will not be found.¡±

    That made sense.  He didn¡¯t like it, but it made sense.  It would not simply be Arthur and his allies that would be looking for the scabbard, after all.  Demons, gods, spirits of all types, the numbers that would lust after an item of such power were practically beyond counting.  Even if they simply intended to ransom it back to its true owner, the rewards would be enormous.  Those that might have some way of using the artefact . . . they might well end up increasing their power by magnitudes!  Even those who didn¡¯t want it for themselves would be searching, if only so that they could return it to its rightful owner.  This event was something akin to poking the beehive of the fragile semblance of order that the Legends had been creating since the Black Sun with a stick.

    And he was currently carrying the treasure that started it all.

    His eyes fell to his burden, then came up again, only to find that in that brief moment, the immortal had disappeared.  For an instant, he felt panic closing in, a crushing pressure that sought to overwhelm him as the full implication of just what kind of mess he was in rose up in his mind.  He closed his eyes and forced a few deep breaths until he was able to get his sudden panic under control.

    Yes, he was caught in the rapids, but the boat he was caught in was not a weak one, and it was at the command of someone who was not to be underestimated.  Yes, he had stolen the scabbard of King Arthur, but he had done so on the orders of one who knew what they were doing.  One who would, hopefully, not cast him away after he had finished his task.  One who he had to hope would set him loose once his obligations to her were finished.

    It was something of a sandcastle of hopes, but at least the foundation was solid.

    After all, Morgan le Fey had experience in stealing scabbards.

 Epilogue 2: Secrets

    Epilogue 2: Secrets

    ¡°So, d¡¯ya have any idea why he ended up smaller than we were expecting?¡±

    The question was addressed at a woman that could in many ways be described as the embodiment of non-descript.  Everything about her seemed to be bland or average.  She was in her mid-thirties or early forties.  Her hair was a shade of mousy brown that could be found anywhere in the world.  Her height was just as standard, average to an almost mathematically perfect degree.  Her figure was unremarkable, and so were her features.  She was just like any woman that one might pass by on the streets without noticing, a woman who could have been a teacher, an accountant, a shop manager, or a cashier.  Only two things about her would make her stand out in the minds of those who saw her at work.

    The first was that she was wearing a lab coat over the simple skirt and blouse she wore.  Said lab coat wasn¡¯t a clean one. In fact, it had a number of dark brown stains splashed across it that suggested dried blood.  The pockets of the coat also had a variety of tools and instruments poking out of them.  From simple things, such as a measuring ruler and a ballpoint pen, to more esoteric items, like a gleaming scalpel or a test tube full of a gently glowing liquid, all of them were ready to be grabbed and used.

    The other thing were her eyes, framed by unremarkable wireframed glasses.  In colour, they were every bit as bland as the rest of her, a forgettable brown that slipped from the mind.  But the look behind them, their intensity, their focus, that shone through like floodlights burning through mist.  These were eyes that stared out at a world that they assessed and judged, seeing everything and then evaluating it.  And there was a sense that not much met with her standards.

    Her eyes flicked over to the woman who had just spoken, finding the clash of her brilliantly emerald hair and the orange overalls to be just as irritating as ever.  In fact, there wasn¡¯t much about the green-haired young woman that didn¡¯t irritate the woman in the lab coat.  Her frivolous attitude, her lack of professionalism, and her irreverence to her superiors, all of it ground on the nerves of the older woman to the point where she did her best to avoid interacting with the demigoddess.

    Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, for all her flaws the overall-wearing woman was an excellent field agent, one with a reputation for being able to get things done.  True, she wasn¡¯t the most powerful demigod in the world, but her powers were flexible, and she had proven herself to be skilled and crafty in their use.  It was enough to allow her to hit above her metaphorical weight class, and it made her a valued asset to the organization they were both a part of.

    The pair of them stood in a large room surrounded by computers and advanced medical equipment.  The centre was taken up by a massive glass water tank, one large enough to have comfortably held a killer whale if it had to.  However, rather than water, it held a thick, vaguely orange liquid, and rather than an orca it contained the latest of the demigoddess¡¯s acquisitions.  The lamia-like demigod looked almost comically small in the huge tank, almost lost in it.  But then again, the tank itself was almost comically small for the chamber it was placed in.  Originally the tank in this room had been large enough to have held a fully-grown blue whale, but that had been replaced with this smaller one, once they realized their new subject was much smaller than anticipated.

    There was no reply to the question though, causing the green-haired woman to frown.

    ¡°So . . . d¡¯ya have any idea why he ended up smaller than we were expecting?¡± She repeated, her voice slightly louder this time.

    ¡°Not as of yet,¡± The older woman replied, turning back to a computer screen displaying data being fed to it by the other devices in the lab. ¡°We have only the initial samples to work with.  I imagine it shall be days or weeks before we have any concrete answers.¡±

    Her voice was every bit as forgettable as the rest of her, the tone flat and all but emotionless.

    ¡°Well, lemme know when ya find out, okay?  I was looking forward to a good fight when I found him, something big y¡¯know?  He was a bit tough to put down, but it was kinda boring, even when he fought back.  I was hoping to take on something new, something I hadn¡¯t already beaten.¡±

    Both of them were speaking in English, though there was a strong accent to the demigoddess¡¯s words.  Both their voices reverbed about the chamber, and their words weren¡¯t alone in doing so.  Every click, beep, and whir coming from the machinery echoed about the huge room, the final effect being slightly unsettling.  The older woman didn¡¯t seem to mind, but the green-haired girl seemed eager to try to fill the echoing quiet.

    ¡°Is he going to be any use like that?  I mean I was expecting him t¡¯be huge, y¡¯know?  Like, lots of heads, maybe an extra set a¡¯ legs, lots o¡¯ teeth, that sorta thing.  Instead, I just find a guy that looks like a weird lamia, that¡¯s disappointing.  Now that he¡¯s just people size, is he going to be any good to ya?¡±

    Internally the older woman dearly wished that she could stuff the demigoddess into one of the other tanks that lined the edge of the room.  Those had been too small to fit the latest of her subjects, but a more normal-sized victim would have gone in just fine.  Once the emerald-haired woman was in there and surrounded by the suppression fluid even her powers wouldn¡¯t have been able to help her get out.  That thought, of the demigoddess being trapped in there and unable to talk, brought a small smile to her face as she continued to work.

    ¡°Hey, yer smiling!  Did ya find somethin¡¯ good?  Y¡¯hardly ever smile, y¡¯know that?  Does that mean ya found something y¡¯can use?¡±

    As the younger woman continued to chatter the nondescript woman did her best not to let her increasing frustration show on her face.  Had the demigoddess been some sort of unintelligent ditz then it might have been bearable, like ignoring the buzzing of a fly.  What truly irritated the older woman was that she knew full well that the emerald-haired girl had a good and intelligent head on her shoulders, she¡¯d simply never used it, or cultivated any sort of discipline or self-control.  If she¡¯d just apply herself then she could have been . . . more!  More than the babbling annoyance that she had to put up with.

    A ding from one of the computers off to the side drew her attention away from her dark thoughts and back to the matter at hand.  Striding over she sat in the swivel chair before the screen and started to review the data that was now being displayed.

    The equipment in this room, indeed in most of the complex, was something the rest of the world currently considered to be nigh impossible, a cooperative mixture of science and magic.  In the world beyond the complex they lived in, mortal minds were being pushed to nervous breakdowns as they tried to reconcile the wild laws of magic with the rigid framework of science that had been built over the millennia.  Here, that had been solved by an alliance of the divine and the mortal, and results were already being reaped.

    The computer was showing her the results of the bloodwork and DNA analysis of the demigod floating in the tank.  Rather than the familiar computer display of numbers and words that would normally show up on such a device this one was showing lines of runes and diagrams of magic circles.  To most others, it would have been incomprehensible, but the older woman could read it as easily as she could her own name.  After all, she had helped invent the system.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Her eyes flicked from line to line, taking in the data, assessing it, digesting it.  She¡¯d done it dozens of times before, so it was a task she was accustomed to.  The values displayed were good ones, indicative that her new subject was a powerful Legacy, uncommonly so.  Her eyes ran across the scrolling runes, noting such qualities as were interesting to her.

    High levels of flesh-aligned mana indicated a strong probability of both enhanced physical abilities and instincts, those were always useful.  Strong internal organs that she was unfamiliar with suggested the demigod might well be adaptive to a wide variety of environments, a rare power.  His personal mana was also surprisingly robust, it was taking the device longer than expected to complete the decoding of its internal makeup.  Still, with the power-enhancing capabilities of the machine, the breakthrough came quickly. She was soon immersing herself in the revealed data, enough so that she could ignore the incessant chattering of the younger woman.

    It was an interesting mixture.  The powers of flesh and blood were prominent, but so too were enhancement and growth.  Poison was in there, though it was a comparatively minor amount.  There were also ties to nature magic, though they seemed to be even more tenuous than poison.  It was an interesting mixture, and she was absently making mental notes when she noticed something that didn¡¯t belong, a discordant note in the visual harmony.

    It was only a couple of lines of runes amidst the flood of information, but the instant she saw them her hand darted out, fast as a striking snake, pressing the keys needed to stop the flow of data.  Her eyes narrowed as she scrolled back, trying to find the lines that had so startled her.  They were there!  It had been no mistake, no trick of the mind, the lines stared back at her, unchanging and utterly out of place.

    ¡°Didja find somethin¡¯?¡± The demigoddess spoke practically into her ear, almost making her jump in surprise. ¡°Ya look like ya found somethin¡¯!  Is it any good?  Is it interestin¡¯?¡±

    Internally the lab coat-wearing woman railed at her. If she had to speak why couldn¡¯t she speak in French which she spoke flawlessly?  At least then she wasn¡¯t mangling the language to the point of near incomprehension with both her accent and her grammar!

    ¡°Yes, there appears to be an anomaly in the bloodline.  Please go to the Seeker¡¯s Chamber and inform the Seeker that he should cast another auger in regard to this demigod¡¯s progenitor, it may be possible that he is an inheritor of two Legacies.¡±

    ¡°Awww, do I have ta?¡±  The question came out as a whine. ¡°Ya know that I¡¯ll be stuck waitin¡¯ for ages if I try ta see him.  It takes foreva for him to get ready.¡±

    ¡°Then you had best leave now,¡± The older woman replied. ¡°The sooner you get there the sooner you shall be finished.¡±

    The demigoddess pouted in response, but she did turn and walk out the door, leaving blessed quiet in her wake.  The woman allowed herself a momentary smile before turning back to her computer and beginning to type furiously.

    The task she had sent the demigoddess on would keep her out of the way for the better part of an hour, though sending an agent to disturb the Seeker would cost her later.  She would have to burn through some favours owed her after she told them that it had been an error on her part, but it was a price she was willing to pay to ensure that none saw what she was about to do.

    On the screen, the lines of runes detached from the rest of the readings and occupied the screen by themselves.  A few more clicks and the woman brought up a file from her personal data collection, and another set of lines joined the first ones.  It was just as she had thought, the lines were identical.

    With her eyes narrowed in thought and concentration, she stood, striding over to another device, this one centred around a needle.  Without hesitation, she held her hand under it, and didn¡¯t even flinch as the needle stabbed down and extracted a sample of her blood.  With cold eyes, she watched as the red liquid was pumped through a transparent line and into another machine, one lined with more runes which glowed into life as the sample reached the spell-covered core of the machine.

    The device worked fast, and in a handful of minutes, more data flowed onto the screen she had been working from.  Sitting down it was but the work of a moment to find what she¡¯d been looking for, then a third line of runes joined the first two.  Once again, all three were the same, confirming what she¡¯d suspected.

    Power was tied to blood, this was one of the oldest rules of the divine.  It was why blood was such a powerful reagent.  It was why blood-drinking creatures such as vampires were present in virtually every mythology around the world.  Blood was a potent medium for power, and power could be read in it as easily as the print in a book could be if one had the skills.  Mana signatures were unique to every being, a sort of magical fingerprint, and such signatures could linger in blood samples for as long as the blood remained relatively fresh.

    The woman in the stained lab coat possessed no divine power of her own, even though she was of a bloodline with divinity in it.  The Legacies, the mantles of power passed down through the generations, had passed her by.  Still, such an inheritance did not pass unmarked, meaning that even if she had no power of her own, mana had still left its mark upon her very DNA.

    And while all mana signatures were unique, that didn¡¯t mean that there could not be similarities.

    She stared at the three lines of runes, two of which she knew were representations of the mana signature in her own blood.  The third one had been found in the analysis of the captured demigod¡¯s blood, but the data indicated that the mana that signature had been found didn¡¯t actually belong to the demigod¡¯s.  This a foreign mana that had been inserted into him.  In time it would have faded away.  The fact that it was still potent enough to be noticed in the analysis indicated that it had been introduced recently, maybe as recently as a day or two ago.

    A frown creased her face as she reviewed the data, trying to learn what the foreign mana had been doing.  It was a difficult task since she was only working with the earliest data.  A more in-depth analysis would come over the next few days as the magic-enhanced computers performed more intensive analysis and sorted through the masses of data that would be accumulated.  What she had, was just the tip of the iceberg, but it should be enough.

    There were traces of . . . something in the blood.  Some sort of recent shift.  She wasn¡¯t sure what it was, all she could see were the leftover signs.  Still, they were enough to form an outline, a rough estimation.  When combined with the early reports on the rampancy that this demigod had supposedly displayed, but which was no longer there . . .

    She leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the trio of matching rune lines, but her mind was miles away and two decades in the past.  She remembered herself, as young, reckless, unfocused, unmotivated.  She remembered a party, drugs, drink, someone kind, someone cruel, then waking up the next day without any memory of what had happened.  She remembered an unwanted pregnancy, the disgrace, the humiliation of not even knowing who the father was.  She remembered her family casting her out, leaving her to rely on fickle friends and what benefits she could squeeze out of an uncaring social security system.  She remembered a difficult pregnancy, followed by the panic of realizing that she had to take care of this tiny new life.  She remembered being terrified by her own fierce feelings for the squalling red thing that had come out of her body, the bewilderment it invoked in her, the utter mess it left her in.

    And most of all, she remembered leaving him, wrapped in blankets, warm and asleep, on the steps of an old couple she¡¯d known growing up.  She¡¯d rung the bell of their house, waited until she could hear them moving, then run as though all the hounds of hell had been at her heels.  She¡¯d prayed that the small bundle of wailing and sleeping that she couldn¡¯t even bear to name would have a good life, and then she¡¯d run and kept running until she had no more energy left in her.

    Life had changed much since then, but even all these years later she could still remember the sight of that tiny sleeping face as she laid him down.  Her child.  Her blood.

    She looked at the three lines, the meaning of them all too clear to her now.  She paused for a moment, then tapped a few keys, erasing her search and her recent actions from the memory of the computer.  A few more quick instructions and all traces of the deleted memories were themselves expunged, no traces remaining.

    The screen reverted to showing the original data, the display updating as more and more new information was added as the analysis of the samples continued.  Now that she knew what to look for it was much clearer to the her.  She could see the hints of how the captured demigod had been quite a different creature only a short time before, she could see something of how he had changed.  The rampancy seemed to have been quite acute, and yet the foreign mana had been able to bring it down, forcing the demigod¡¯s warped divinity into a more contained and ordered state.

    From a chaotic monster to a powerful demigod . . . the change was a testament to both power and skill, if she was any judge, and it brought a smile to her lips.  She was uncertain as to exactly what her feelings were on this matter, but on one thing she was quite certain.

    ¡°Well now,¡± She murmured, feeling the need to speak it out loud, even if she would be the only one to hear it. ¡°It looks like my son does good work.¡±

    Adam, his friends, allies, and enemies will return in Blood Divine: Stolen Blood!

 Book 3 - Stolen Blood: Prologue: Hunted

    <u>Blood Divine: Book 3</u>

    <u>Stolen Blood</u>

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Prologue: Hunted

    The boy ran through the alley, trying his best not to stumble over discarded packing crates as he rushed along.  Here, in the back alleys of the docks, there was far too much discarded junk.  Small mounds of broken crates, shipping beds, and other debris that workers were too tired to dispose of properly at the end of the day.  The small paths between the warehouses, the places where nobody ever bothered to go, were used as an improvised dump.  Every couple of years the alleys were cleared out by the local council as they were a fire hazard, but even that was done half-heartedly.

    It had been a long time since this alley had been cleared, and there was more than enough stuff lying around that every few steps saw him stumbling over something.  Still, despite it all the boy didn¡¯t fall, he kept on going, somehow keeping his balance and enduring the pain of each trip and impact.

    Fear kept him from going as fast as he could.  And even as he ran his ears kept straining to hear even the slightest hint of the approach of his pursuers.  He did his best to be as quiet as he could, making as little noise as he could, as he continued to stumble forward in the dark.

    That darkness wasn¡¯t total though, up ahead the boy could see distant streetlights, and hear the roar of traffic.  This portion of the docks was all but abandoned, but if he could make it back to the main city, back to the crowds, then . . .

    All further thoughts were cut off as one of the walls that made up the alley exploded outwards behind him.  The boy was a good distance from it, so the flying shrapnel missed him, but the sound and force of the explosion caught him off guard and sent him stumbling to the side, his shoulder hitting a wall.

    ¡°Good chase, boy.¡±

    The voice that spoke was rough, that of a man who was unused to talking, whose voice had grown rusty and coarse with disuse.  It came from within the warehouse, drifting through the broken hole like smoke wafting from burning wood.

    On hearing it the boy gritted his teeth.  The voice wasn¡¯t known to him, but the tone, that roughness of disuse, he was far more familiar with that than he wished to be.  He¡¯d encountered it too many times to fail to recognize it.  To him, that tone meant fear and frustration.

    Of course, he¡¯d only managed to develop those emotions because he hadn¡¯t yet been caught.  He¡¯d seen others, the other prey that had been stalked, they¡¯d been caught, but he¡¯d managed to get away.  He¡¯d managed to learn, to get stronger, to stop just being prey.

    A figure stepped through the dust cloud, his features coming into focus slowly as the flickering light of an old streetlight illuminated the alley from one end.  It wasn¡¯t good lighting, but the boy¡¯s eyes were keen, keener than they should have been, and he could make out the details of his enemy.

    The man, if ¡®man¡¯ was the right word for such a creature, was not tall. Barely more than five and a half feet at the most.  However, he looked taller than he was due to his extreme gauntness.  The man was only clad in rags, torn trousers, old and worn-out boots, and a cloak or cape that was little more than a motheaten blanket hanging from about his neck and shoulders.  It was the body beneath them that was unnerving though.  It was as if the man was on the verge of starvation, his skin drawn taut across his body, yet his muscles had remained unaffected.  The contrast between sunken flesh and hard muscle was unnatural, wrong, and just the sight of it was enough to send shivers down the back of those who saw it.

    But for the boy, it wasn¡¯t the man¡¯s body that was the most frightening, it was the eyes.  Where his eyeballs should have been there were only pits of sulphurous yellow-green fire burning beneath eyelids.  The eldritch flames licked about, caressing the flesh of the face that housed them, yet failing to burn any of it.  The boy knew those eyes, knew them and hated them.  All in all, the figure before him would not have been out of place in a nightmare, especially with the strange, serrated sickle that he held loosely in one hand.

    ¡°So, is the hunt over th-¡±

    The question from the man with the burning eyes was cut off as the boy charged him.  It would normally have been an absurd sight.  Even though he wasn¡¯t tall the gaunt figure was still a full head taller than the boy, and this was a slim child, lacking the weight and muscle he needed to take on a larger and older foe.  Normally it would have been an absurd sight, but something happened to change the odds.

    As he moved the boy changed, his body swelled, growing hazy as though a second image were being overlaid onto his form, then his original form faded leaving only the new one.  In an instant it was no longer a young boy charging down the back alley, instead, it was a grizzly bear.  The burning eyes of the gaunt figure only had a moment to widen in surprise before the great furred form slammed into him, one huge, clawed paw coming around to swipe at him as it did so.

    In the wild, it was entirely possible for a grizzly bear to rip the head of a mousse with a single swipe.  The sheer force that such animals possessed gave the breed the reputation of being one of the strongest mammals on the planet.

    The alleyway was not a wide one, and cluttered as it was it made the charge of the large predator an awkward one.  Even so, bears were successful hunters for a reason, they were faster than their bulk suggested, and they were agile, accurate, and deadly.  The emaciated figure barely had time to even shift his stance before a paw bigger than his whole head slammed into him.

    Amazingly the man¡¯s body held together as it was thrown back by the impact. Even as the snap of bones echoed through the empty warehouse, followed by more snaps as the body struck a wall, no blood flowed.  Instead, the limp form simply fell to the ground like a discarded bag of trash, the burning eyes sinking into dully glowing coals of green and yellow.

    The bear didn¡¯t relax though, despite the death of the figure that had been menacing it.  Instead, a rumbling growl emanated from its throat as the huge beast turned to glare into the darkness of the warehouse.  What human eyes would have missed the eyes of a bear were better equipped to spot.

    There!  At the back of the warehouse, it could just make out two more pinpricks of light, light that was the same sulphurous green as the fire in the figure¡¯s eyes had been.

    Without hesitation the bear retreated, shuffling back through the hole that had been blasted into the alley, never taking its eyes off those lights.  There was another growl, but this one didn¡¯t come from the bear, it was higher, more of a snarl than a growl.

    It happened so fast that a normal human witnessing it would have seen little more than a succession of blurs.  Just as the bear was halfway through the hole a black and white form dashed from the shadows at the far end of the warehouse.  It was fast, blindingly so, but the bear that had been a boy could tell what it was.

    A wolf.  It was a wolf with fur a dull grey, the shade of dark ashes.  It was a large example of its breed, nearly half again as large as a regular wolf would have been.  Like grey lightning it darted across the separating space, springing straight at the bear, its jaws open, eager for blood.

    The leap was aimed at the bear¡¯s throat, but despite the speed of the attack, the transformed boy was able to raise a forelimb in protection.  Teeth that sought to tear and savage a throat instead closed around a limb of thick muscles and even thicker bones.  Still, the wolf was undeterred, its jaws flexing as they tightened their grip, digging teeth through fur and deeper into flesh.

    The grizzly roared, a sound of pain and anger that shook dust loose from the edges of the broken masonry nearby.  In a movement that seemed too calculated to be that of an animal, no matter how cunning, the bear swung the limb, the wolf attached to it seeming to weigh no more than a feather.  The movement might have seemed wild to an observer, but it had purpose behind it.

    The bulk of the wolf slammed into the ragged side of the huge hole with enough force to send more dust and shrapnel flying.  The air went out of its body in an audible ¡®whuff¡¯, but its jaw refused to let go.  Those burning pits in place of eyes glared up into the brown and black eyes of the bear, malice clear in them, as well as a baleful challenge.

    In response the bear roared and swung its arm against the masonry again.  Once!  Twice!  Thrice!  Each time the wolf refused to relent.  Each time it endured, glaring back at the bear with hatred and contempt.  It seemed to mock the bear for its failure to dislodge it.

    The bear swung its arm again, and once more there was an impact, but this time there was no simple thud and huff of air.  This time there was no defiance or hatred in those burning sockets.

    This time, the wolf screamed!

    Convulsively its jaws unlocked, the muscles spasming as the rest of its body twitched madly.  With a low growl, the bear drew back its injured arm, then swung full force with its other forelimb, its huge paw slamming into the exposed chest of the wolf with enough force to pulverise the bones beneath and drive the beast into the brickwork as though it had been hit by a runaway car.  Another keening shriek emerged, as the cause of its pain became visible, a broken metal wall reinforcement, its length bent to face inward and the end a torn mess of shredded metal sporting points as sharp as spearheads.  The first few blows had shaken away the masonry covering it, and the last blow had impaled the wolf upon it like a butterfly in a collection.

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    The flame-eyed beast should not have been able to make a sound, not with the metal shaft impaling it through its lungs, but somehow it had managed it, letting out a whining howl that seemed to need no breath to sustain it.  Its chest was smoking where the metal ran through it, as though the former support were red hot and searing the wolf from within.  With another snarl the bear struck again, bending the exposed part of the metal shaft over, pinning the wolf in place so it couldn¡¯t pull itself off the jagged support.

    The howl of the wolf intensified as it tried to struggle, but its uncoordinated thrashing simply drove it down further.  The smoke rising from its chest was thicker now, oily and rancid as if someone was trying to cook spoiled meat.  The bear took one last look at the impaled beast, then shuffled out of the warehouse and back into the alley.  It paused for a moment, licking at its forelimb where it had been savaged, but then it began to shuffle towards the distant lights.  There was a shimmer once more, and the bear returned to being a boy.

    A boy whose arm now dripped blood.

    He paused, leaning against a wall as he gingerly pulled his sleeve up to look at the injury beneath.  The wound was smaller than it had been, reduced by his transformation.  Now it was hardly life-threatening, more like something that might need disinfectant and bandages and not much more.

    Pulling his sleeve tight around the wound the boy broke into a jog as he continued to the light of the more populated areas.  Hopefully, he could find help there, someone willing to help fix him up before he moved on.  He¡¯d get some respite since his pursuers tended to leave him alone while he was in crowded areas, but if he stayed there too long then they were willing to come after him, regardless of the presence of others.

    He¡¯d seen where that led to in the past, and even though he was scared and growing desperate, he didn¡¯t want that to happen again.  He didn¡¯t want to be responsible for that happening again.

    Gritting his teeth, he continued on, not looking back to the warehouse where his enemies lay broken.  He didn¡¯t need to, after all, he was all too aware of what it was that he was running from.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    In the warehouse, a broken body twitched.

    It shouldn¡¯t have been able to, not given the damage it had taken.  Bones had been snapped like toothpicks, muscles and organs had been pulped into ruin, and the spine and nerves were in such a mess that it shouldn¡¯t have been possible for any signals to be getting where they should go.

    Still, regardless of the structural impossibility the broken body of the gaunt figure continued to twitch.  More than that, this was no random spasmodic movement, there was a method to it, as first one finger moved, then another, then an arm, then a leg.  They were all tiny movements, but they repeated in sequence, a steady rotation.  And each time they moved the movement was greater, more controlled.

    With a sickening crack the neck that had been hanging at a grotesque angle snapped back into place.  As it did so the eyes that had been banked into embers flared up once more into sulphurous flames.  More snaps and cracks could be heard as more bones forced themselves back into position, restoring the mangled frame into something resembling a man once more.

    Unsteadily, but with growing balance, the figure rose to its feet once more, his burning eyes surveying the warehouse, then falling on the still whimpering form of the impaled wolf.

    ¡°Impressive.¡±

    The voice was as horse and scratchy as it had been before, but there was a hint of something more there now.  Some emotion that couldn¡¯t be named was buried in there, something hungry, something bloody.

    Without bothering to show any sort of kindness the gaunt figure reached out, seized handfuls of the wolf¡¯s flesh, and with two sharp and uncaring yanks drew the impaled beast off the metal it had been held by.  The wolf let out a strangled yelp, a noise that should have been louder, but was so constricted by pain that only a weak protest escaped it.  More blood flowed as its injury was torn open by the movements, and more smoke rose from the wound as it scraped against the metal, but the gaunt figure seemed to care little for any of it.

    ¡°You let him escape once again?¡±

    The question was asked by a new voice, one that came from the same dark end of the warehouse that the wolf had emerged from.  This voice was different.  It was rough, almost growling, but it was not scratchy from disuse.  Instead, it spoke with authority, as though used to being heeded.  There was irritation in the voice now, perhaps even anger and the emaciated figure beside the wolf ducked his head in submission.

    A tapping of metal on stone echoed through the warehouse as a new figure entered the sparse light coming in through the hole.  Had any mortal been there they would most likely have recoiled in horror at the sight of the newcomer.

    When mortals in the modern age thought of centaurs the image that came to mind was of a horse¡¯s body with the torsos of a man or woman where the head and neck should be.  The image of the character of centaurs was that of deep thinkers, of sages and teachers, of discipline and moderation.  This was due to the most famed centaur of all, Chiron, the teacher of heroes.  He had been one of the famed myths of Greece, one that had survived to the modern world, and one that permeated into many of the popular modern stories.  As such, when depicted in books, movies, or comics, centaurs were the wise men, the teachers, and the healers who aided the heroes.  This was the popular depiction, the one that came to mind first and foremost.

    It was also wrong in almost every way.

    Chiron had not been the rule, he had been the exception.  For every centaur that was calm, there were a hundred that were wild.  For every centaur that was kind, there were a hundred that were cruel.  For every centaur that sought gentle wisdom, there were a hundred that chased after brutal strength.  Centaurs had been raiders, carousers, creatures ruled by their lusts and hungers and who had little care for others.  The true nature of centaurs made them little more than barbarians, and as such they were feared more than loved.

    The creature that emerged from the darkness was a centaur, but not one with which modern society would have expected.

    The modern image of the centaurs was shaped by modern media, which tended to depict the horse portion of a centaur as small.  That was so that there was a close scale between them and whatever humans they were interacting with.  There were also the limits with special effects and budgets to work around.  This all meant that centaurs were thought to have a certain appearance, one that was almost delicate, despite efforts to make it otherwise.

    The reality of a true example of the breed was far less delicate, far more brutish.

    He stood nearly eight feet in height, and the dimensions of his human potion were broader and thicker than a normal person would have been.  Horses were large creatures, and a human body scaled to that of a full-grown horse was likewise large.  More than that, there was something inhuman about even the human-looking parts of him beyond his muscular appearance.  His hair was too thick and wild.  The proportions of his arms were a bit too long.  His face and the skull beneath it were shaped slightly differently from a human.  And, in this case, there were the eyes, eyes just like the gaunt figure and the wolf.  Eyes that burnt like twin pits of some hellish perdition.

    Then there was his garb, a combination of crudely stitched-together hides and fearsome-looking bronze armour.  In one hand he carried a vaguely Roman-style blade, the metal an odd, faded yellow marked with bronze runes.  On his back was a massive axe, one that would have been too enormous for a human to wield, but for a giant like the centaur it was well-suited.

    The looming figure advanced, bronze horseshoes tapping on the concrete until the centaur towered menacingly over the other figure.

    ¡°You had the boy, and you let him escape?¡±

    Before the smaller figure could offer a reply the centaur¡¯s empty hand lashed out, wrapping around the other¡¯s throat and lifting him off his feet as though he weighed no more than a bottle of wine.

    ¡°We have tracked this demigod for three days now, and this has been the closest we have come to catching him.  You know why we must have him, and yet you allowed him to escape?!¡±

    His voice didn¡¯t rise, but the anger in it was clear to hear.  He drew his captive up until their burning eyes were level, the smaller figure dwarfed by him, highlighting the difference in both power and stature.

    ¡°-idn¡¯- g-t -wa-, n-t -omp-ete-y . . .¡±

    The words were broken, almost unintelligible, but they were enough to catch the centaur¡¯s attention.  They were enough to make him loosen his grip a little.  They were enough to give the gaunt figure a chance to speak clearly.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t completely escape!  I have his blood!¡±

    As he rushed the words out, he gestured to the wolf that was still laying on the concrete, panting as its wound slowly healed.  The stain of red could still be seen about its jaws, and in the fur of its neck and face.

    ¡°Blood!  We can use it!  We can find him again!¡±

    The centaur glared at him for a moment, then released the gaunt figure as he turned to the wolf.  The grey-furred beast whimpered as it was none-too-gently picked up but made no other protest.  With meticulous care the centaur ran a silken cloth across the lips and surrounding area of the creature¡¯s face, gathering as much of the blood as he could upon the square of fabric.  Once he was done he dropped the wolf to concrete as though it were of no more interest than an empty beer can.

    ¡°Very well, Cargale,¡± He spoke as he turned away, stepping back towards the darkness. ¡°That shall be useful, enough so to make up for your loss.¡±

    Behind the hulking figure, the smaller form of Cargale shakily climbed to his feet.  For a moment he glared at the form of his superior, anger tensing his body, but then he relaxed as he slumped.

    He knew his place; he knew where he stood.  Cargale was a former mortal, one granted a type of immortality by the Hunt Fyre that burned within him, the immortality of undeath.  His kind were common in the ranks in which he served, making up much of the fodder.  He was a wolf rider, a scout and tracker, little more.  The centaur was a captain, a commander of a small band that Cargale was a part of.  Such positions were won by power, and the undead hunter was self-aware enough to know that he lacked the power to even think of giving in to his anger.

    Instead, he buried it, saving it for a later time.  In an attempt to distract himself, he turned his attention back to his wolf, seeing how it was healing.

    The wound in its side was slowly closing, though the edges remained inflamed and burnt from where they had touched the metal.  The support beam that had stabbed through the beast had only had a minimal iron content, and that iron had been processed, yet it had still been enough to affect the fey flesh of the wolf.  Cargale didn¡¯t curse, he didn¡¯t spit his irritation or frustration.  Speaking to vent his anger had never been his way.  Indeed, words had never been his way.  Silence was his preferred state, and he had gone for years without speaking a word.  He had only spoken to the boy because he¡¯d felt that his success in evading them for so long deserved acknowledgement.

    Perhaps that had been a mistake.  Had he attacked without warning, without mercy, might he have overwhelmed the demigod before he could transform?

    In all truth, the undead scout didn¡¯t care.  They had his blood now, which meant that they could track him anywhere he went.  True, it would take some time for the ritual to bind that blood to the Hunt¡¯s magic, but once that ritual was completed there would be nowhere the boy could flee that they could not find him.

    Cargale, allowed a twisted smile to form on his face as he watched his wolf shakily regain its feet.  He would have a chance to stalk the boy once more, and the next time he would allow for no mistakes.  It was not only for his own satisfaction but also for the sake of the band he was a part of.

    After all, the Wild Hunt had a reputation to maintain.

    Had anyone been watching him as he and his wolf walked into the shadows of the warehouse, they would have noted the darkness being broken by the appearance of two spots of sulphurous green light.  Then another two.  And another, and another.  Before long dozens of such lights were waiting for him, all of them matching the lights in his eyes, his wolf¡¯s eyes, and the eyes of the centaur.

    So many eyes, and all of them eager to hunt.

 Chapter 1: Oaths and Gifts: Part One

    Chapter 1: Oaths and Gifts: Part One

    I wasn¡¯t at my best, but I knew that standing there in slack-jawed incredulity was probably not the best move to make.

    The problem was that I wasn¡¯t sure what I should do.  I had two goddesses in front of me, and not just any goddesses either.  These were Athena and Kali, names that had managed to retain their fame through to the modern world, even over the centuries when the gods had been barred from the world.

    Athena was the one I was more familiar with, the Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and craft.  She was one of the most highly regarded deities in Greek mythology, and certainly the most highly regarded of their goddesses.  She was one of the three most beautiful among the goddesses, yet she was famed for far more than that.

    She was the goddess that lent aid to heroes.  She was the advisor to her father, Zeus, the king of the Olympians.  She was the inventor of the plough, the yoke, the rake and the bridles.  She invented the chariot, designed the first ships, baked the first earthenware, and carved the first flute.  She had helped establish Athens, the city named in her honour.

    She had endured into the modern era as a symbol of wisdom strength, and classical learnings.  She had influenced the world so greatly that she was the inspiration behind the image of Britannia, the personification of my home country.

    She¡¯d fought wars, fought giants, even fought her fellow gods.  She was patron to strategists and tacticians, to those who practised the art of war, rather than the brutality of mass violence.

    Of course, divine though she was, she was far from perfect.  She had been cruel in the past, inflicting suffering and curses for petty or vindictive reasons.  Medusa had been cursed to become the Gorgon because she had been the victim of Poseidon¡¯s lust in Athena¡¯s temple, and the goddess had lacked the power to punish her uncle, so she had vented her fury on the victim instead.  Arachne was another example, a mortal that had dared to surpass the goddess in a skill she was proud of and had paid for that talent by being driven to suicide, then restored to life as the mother of spiders.

    Greek myths were the ones I was most familiar with, and what I¡¯d learned told me to be both respectful and wary of the daughter of Metis.

    And it wasn¡¯t just the mythology that I was familiar with as far as she went.  The gods that had returned had acted in many different ways.  A few chose to live solitary lives in areas they claimed.  Others chose to return to the way things had been in ages past, living in temples or grottos and letting mortals come to them.  Mercifully few so far had chosen to establish control over the domains they claimed.  The deities could be loud or quiet, subtle or overt, it all depended on their desires and natures.

    And then there were the majority of the Greek gods, who had made quite the splash when they chose to integrate into modern society, at least in part.

    The Olympians liked the modern world and the comforts and pleasures that it offered.  They¡¯d chosen to be a part of it, though they had also wanted to remain gods.  Probably the most famous of them was Apollo, who¡¯d become the unquestioned king of Hollywood and the most sought-after and acclaimed actor alive.  Still, the other deities had made the news in their own ways, and among them had been Athena, along with her father and half-brothers, setting up Olympus Industries.

    While Zeus¡¯s face had become the face of the company Athena was almost as well known, given that she was in charge of both public relations and many of the marketing aspects of the business.  She had appeared at dozens of press conferences, board meetings, negotiations, and public events, and was something of a media darling due to her air of absolute competence and confidence, and of course her beauty.  There had been very few major demonstrations of her power, but her larger-than-life size and the occasional casual demonstration, such as moving a car that was inconveniently parked, as though it were an empty tissue box, left no illusions as to what she was.

    And now she was right there and wanted to see me.  Under such circumstances knowing more about her proved to be not so much useful as really daunting.

    By contrast, I knew only a little about Kali, despite her fame, but that it wasn¡¯t doing much to settle my nerves either.

    In the modern world, Kali was famed as a goddess of darkness and destruction.  She was the quintessential ¡®multi-armed¡¯ goddess, the one most people thought of when it came to Hindu gods.  She appeared in many Western forms of entertainment, such as films and games.  More often than not she was depicted as the villain, or rather as the deity villains worshipped.  Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was a good example, with Kali being depicted as a malevolent deity seeking human sacrifices.

    Still, from what little I knew of her that was more a Western reimaging of her than anything else.  It was like they¡¯d heard that she was a goddess of destruction and decided that automatically meant she had to be evil.  I¡¯d seen her depicted as the goddess of all kinds of things, the night, madness, murder, and evil, it was almost a joke, how much she could be misinterpreted.

    In comparison with Western myths, I knew very little about Hindu mythology, but I did know where they¡¯d gone wrong.  Kali was a destroyer, but she was a destroyer of evil, having come into existence in order to slay some sort of immortal demon.  The destruction she represented was the natural breakdown of things in the face of the endless march of time or something like that.  It was a bit confusing because I knew she was closely related to Shiva, another Hindu god of destruction, and one of the most powerful gods in the pantheon.  How they could both be gods of destruction was something I wasn¡¯t too sure about, but I knew that Shiva was most often portrayed in a benevolent or even heroic light.  So, I didn¡¯t think she could be evil if they were so closely associated.

    And that was just about all I knew of her.  The only thing I was really certain about was that her reputation was fearsome, so taking her seriously was the only option.

    I wanted to take a deep breath and centre myself.  I wanted to close my eyes and take a few moments to get my thoughts in order.  Unfortunately, neither option was really open to me, not if I wanted to make a decent impression and avoid showing disrespect.

    . . . Disrespect, like me making two GODDESSES wait while I took a shower!

    I could feel worry and dread starting to gnaw at my stomach.  Had I already shot myself in the foot?  Neither of them seemed to be too offended or angry.  In fact, Kali seemed more amused than anything, and Athena had approved of my getting myself cleaned up.

    I felt that roiling in my stomach start to die down as I realised, I might not be quite as screwed as I thought.

    ¡°I . . . I¡¯m not gonna lie here,¡± I tried to keep my voice as level as I could, but a slight stutter still crept in. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to meet gods so soon.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get ya,¡± Kali replied, her tone shockingly informal. ¡°Best advice I can give you is that plans and gods never get along all that well.¡±

    She stood up and offered me a grin, one that showed all her teeth.  As she did so I couldn¡¯t help but notice that her canines seemed to be just a bit too pointed.  It wasn¡¯t anything overtly inhuman, but it was enough that I felt my eyes widen slightly.

    The taller goddess, Athena, shot a sidelong glance at her fellow deity, then turned to face me, her posture as dignified as if she were an ambassador meeting with a foreign dignitary.

    ¡°Your name is Adam, correct?¡± I nodded and she continued. ¡°I have been sent to treat with you on behalf of the gods of Olympus.¡±

    For a moment I just stood there, unsure of just how I was meant to take that.  I was coming down from my earlier surge of adrenaline, and my tired mind was starting to lag.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but why?¡± Again, despite my efforts to stay calm some of my bewilderment seeped into my voice as I asked the question. ¡°I . . . look, Joan and Hadriel told me that there¡¯re things I need to do, important things, but I haven¡¯t done anything yet!  Why are either of you here now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I guess this does seem kinda crazy,¡± Kali admitted, waving at herself and her fellow goddess. ¡°In my case, I¡¯m here because there¡¯re promises involved, stuff I swore to one of your progenitors.  Don¡¯t know what blondie over there wants though.¡±

    Somehow, without changing her expression in the least, Athena managed to radiate a sense of irritation and disapproval.  However, she simply turned to address me again.

    ¡°You are correct in that it is unusual for a demigod as new as yourself to warrant the attention you are receiving, but it is also unusual for a demigod¡¯s Awakening to illuminate half the world.¡±

    She had a point there.  I knew what had happened, Joan and Hadriel had told me, after they received reports from angels that told them just how big my Awakening flare had been.  The problem was that even though I had been told all that, it still didn¡¯t seem real to me.  How could it?  The idea that I did something like that, lighting up an entire side of the planet, was just too big to get my head around!

    As ridiculous as it might sound, I¡¯d genuinely forgotten about it over the last few days.  Training, worry, and then this mess with Etienne all combined to drive it to the back of my mind where it had ended up getting buried.

    Being reminded only left me more aware of just how unready I was to handle this.

    ¡°However, as great as the display of your Awakening was, it is not the primary reason for my being here.  Rather, it was what we sensed within the light of your Awakening.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

    ¡°It was clear to myself and my family that at least a portion of the energies in your Awakening was of our own bloodline,¡± The Greek goddess explained. ¡°Though we are as yet unaware of the origin of your divinity, we are certain that it is old, it is powerful, and it is tied to our own.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  So, there¡¯s a chance that Adam here is descended from Zeus by one of his kids?¡± Kali asked it with interest as if commenting on a development in a popular sitcom.

    For her part, Athena turned to look at the Hindu goddess, her expression a study in calm control.

    ¡°No.  Whomever his progenitor was they are older than my own father.  It is most likely that Adam is descended from one of the titans, meaning that he is probably a cousin or even brother of Zeus.¡±

    A titan?  As soon as I heard that my thoughts turned to Etienne, remembering all too well what had been inflicted upon him by his own progenitor.  A progenitor that had been the last of the titans.  Was I going to face something like that?

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s kinda that way with me too.  Although, I do know who your old man is out of the bunch from my neck of the woods.¡±

    The casual and carefree way that Kali spoke almost made me miss the actual meaning of the words themselves.  I had to go over it again in my head before I realized what she meant.

    ¡°Wait! You know who one of my ancestors was . . . I mean, is?¡±

    Athena¡¯s affirmation of my bloodline being linked to one of the Greek gods had been almost expected.  The Olympian pantheon had proven itself to be . . . prolific, to say the least.  There wasn¡¯t any sort of official census or anything like that, but anyone who paid attention would note that there were far more demigods with ties to the Greek myths than any of the other sources of divinity.  By all accounts, the Olympians had been the most avid users of the gaps to the mortal plane during the years when the Legends had been exiled, and as such had left many, many Legacies and Children.  Since I had so many bloodlines, I had sort of expected one of them to be tied to the Greek myths.

    The thing was the goddess didn¡¯t know who it was, so it still seemed uncertain, maybe even a bit unreal.  There wasn¡¯t a name, anything for me to grab hold of, not like there had been with N¨¹wa, so I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be too eager.

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    But Kali . . . she knew who I was descended from?  Hope rose in me at the idea of learning more about my unknown . . . family?  Ancestors?  Progenitors?  How the hell was I meant to think about them?

    ¡°Yep,¡± She replied, popping the ¡®p¡¯ at the end of the word in a way that made me think of old American sitcoms rather than goddesses of immense power. ¡°He was the guy that asked me to come here and give you a hand.  He can¡¯t get involved himself, not unless he wants to drag you into some of the really high-level stuff before you¡¯re ready.  But me . . . I¡¯ve got a bit more freedom than that.¡±

    He?  It was a he?  I wasn¡¯t sure why, but my mind focused on that minor aspect before I could bring myself to think about the rest.  Up until now the Legends that had been the source of my divinity, the ones I knew of anyway. Had both been female.  Bath Kol was one of the few female seraphim while N¨¹wa was a goddess.  In my mind, I had these vague images of them as something like absurdly powerful long-lost aunts.   Intellectually I knew it was probably inaccurate, but on an emotional level that was the closest I could come to putting my confused feelings into words.  The knowledge that I had a male relative should have been a small thing, but it felt important, as though something was rounding out where it was needed.

    ¡°Who . . . who is he?¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to stumble over the question, but my suddenly dry throat made me stutter the question.

    ¡°Shiva.¡±

    She said it so casually that for a moment I didn¡¯t even realize she¡¯d answered my question.  Shiva?  For a moment I just mentally fumbled, memories of computer games and late-night subbed films running through my tired mind.  Then I made the connection.

    Shiva.  As in Lord Shiva?  As in one of the most powerful gods of the Hindu pantheon, if not the flat-out most powerful of all?

    I had some idea of how enormous this was.  Shiva was one of the trinity at the top of their pantheon, the trinity that represented creation, preservation, and destruction.  He was the destroyer, arguably the most powerful of them all.  He was the god that other gods prayed to, that demons worshipped.  He was the god that destroyed the old universe so that the new one could flourish into place.

    That was pretty much all I knew about him, but it was enough to leave me mentally reeling.

    ¡°Adam is descended from Lord Shiva?¡± I glanced over, seeing that Hadriel had stepped forward, her face intent.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± The dark-haired goddess confirmed, her posture still as casual as ever. ¡°It surprised me too when I found out.¡±

    ¡°I have never heard of Lord Shiva making use of the cracks into the mortal plane during the Exile,¡± Hadriel stated, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡°I am aware that some angels attempted to monitor which deities chose to descend to the world of mortals, even if it meant forsaking their power.  The method used was imperfect, but they were able to sense when the strongest deities chose to abandon their power.  They would surely have noticed had a god of Lord Shiva¡¯s stature done so.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Kali grinned as she waved a finger in admonition. ¡°But when did you guys start doing that?  Shiva only did it once, and it was right at the start, back when us gods were learning the trick by watching you angels take the plunge.  Back then no one knew all the ins and outs of it, so when he tried it, he ended up doing it just like an angel, losing all his memories and being reborn as just another mortal.¡±

    She paused for a moment, grinning.

    ¡°He had a decent life, an average one, a normal one, but he also created a bloodline with a Legacy in it.  And that Legacy has now culminated in Adam here.¡±

    ¡°So why are you here?  Does your lord seek the protection of his descendant?¡±

    It was Athena who asked the question, her face one of neutral curiosity that didn¡¯t indicate her own feelings on the matter.

    ¡°After that show with lighting up the sky we had to do something,¡± Kali¡¯s face grew serious as she looked at the other goddess, then turned to face me. ¡°He¡¯s got a lot of power, and he¡¯s got ties to the High Heavens.  These guys from Olympus are interested in him, and once word gets out a bit more there¡¯ll be a lot of eyes on him.  Shiva thought he could use some backup, so here I am.¡±

    ¡°Je vois, you are here to aid him?¡±

    It was Joan who asked this time, her face intent.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the plan.  Think of me as a bodyguard slash assistant, here to keep you safe and help you succeed.¡± The black-haired goddess paused for a moment, then looked me straight in the eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be fighting your battles for you though.  I¡¯m here to help, not let you coast through on my back, you understand?¡±

    At that moment all her amused informality fell away, and I was acutely aware that I was facing a very powerful and very dangerous being.

    ¡°What guarantees do we have on your allegiance?¡± Hadriel asked, her form tense. ¡°You are formidable, goddess Kali, but your bloodlust is as famed as your prowess.  Will you turn on us in the heat of battle, should your battle frenzy grow too great?¡±

    The Hindu goddess didn¡¯t move, she didn¡¯t change her posture, she didn¡¯t even change her expression, but she didn¡¯t need to.  The atmosphere in the room, previously slightly tense but not hostile, became almost unbearably oppressive.  I could feel a cold shiver run down my spine, and the butterflies in my stomach died as a void seemed to take their place.  I tried to move, to step between them, to try and calm down the situation, but to my growing panic, I realized that I couldn¡¯t move!  I wanted to, I could feel my muscles tensing and trying to obey me, but nothing was happening, the sudden atmosphere seeming to hold me in place as though I were entombed in concrete.

    ¡°You¡¯re a brave little angel, aren¡¯t you?¡± Kali asked, her voice light, even as her eyes fixed upon the crimson-winged angel. ¡°It¡¯s not often that anyone questions me as an ally.  Normally they¡¯re just glad I¡¯m not an enemy.  Is that what you want?  Would you prefer me as an enemy?¡±

    The feeling of ants made from ice marching up and down my spine redoubled as I watched the angel and the goddess stare at each other.  For her part, Hadriel seemed utterly undaunted, with no hint of fear in her expression.  Her body was tense though, bare skin making it easy to see the muscles moving beneath, readying themselves for action.  Tension built in the room, the Hindu goddess remaining lounging on her seat while the angel . . . I didn¡¯t even know what she wanted to do.  Fight?  Flee?  Protect me?

    I think it was that last thought that finally let me do something, the thought that they might end up fighting over me in some disagreement about trust.

    ¡°H-Hey . . . HEY!¡±

    The first word was halting, barely more than a croak, but I managed to repeat it with enough volume to get the attention of the two of them.  The pressure in the room dropped off as their gazes focused on me, rather than each other, and I found I could move once more.

    ¡°Huh, looks like you¡¯ve got some decent guts in you,¡± Kali commented as she leaned back, deliberately taking a more relaxed posture.

    ¡°Adam . . . ?¡±  I was pretty sure that that was the first time I¡¯d ever heard Hadriel speak with anything less than absolute confidence in her voice.  She sounded just slightly uncertain, as though unsure of how to react to me stepping in like this.

    ¡°I . . . look, Kali,¡± I kept going, trying to keep my momentum, afraid that if I did stop then the reality of the situation, that I was talking to a goddess, would paralyse me. ¡°Can . . . can you give us a reason to trust you?  I don¡¯t mean any . . . any insult, or anything like that, but we¡¯ve got to be careful, okay?¡±

    It came out more hurriedly than I wanted it to, but at least it was coherent, and the way I was feeling, that counted as a win.

    Kali had stood up, and though the air wasn¡¯t as tense as it had been there was a definite return of tension as she tilted her head to the side slightly.  Athena hadn¡¯t retreated, hadn¡¯t stepped back, but she had turned in place, making it clear that she wasn¡¯t about to step into this as she looked between us.

    ¡°Ballsy,¡± the Hindu goddess grinned as she said the world, her smile that of a lioness that had come across an entire herd of unconscious prey. ¡°You sure you want to keep pushing on this?¡±

    I swallowed, then moistened my dry lips as I did my best to keep from fidgeting under her gaze.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean any disrespect,¡± I said, trying to be polite without being deferential. ¡°But Joan and Hadriel have got my trust.  I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t know you.  So, I¡¯ve got to ask for something.¡±

    For a moment only silence reigned in the refitted room, Kali pinning me in place with a look so inscrutable it was almost disturbing.  Then her smile came back, less predatory, more . . . pleased, as though she liked my response.

    ¡°Good, keep that backbone, you¡¯re going to need it.¡±

    The smile dropped from her face and she took a step forward, her posture and expression suddenly formal.

    ¡°I have sworn an oath before and to Lord Shiva.  I have sworn this oath upon my loyalty to him, upon my own name, upon my own power, upon my own honour.  I shall be your ally.  I shall aid you, teach you, guard you.  I shall never raise my hand against you, nor your family, nor your allies.  So long as you hold faith with me and your divine ancestor I, Kali the Black One, shall serve you as your companion in your tasks to come.¡±

    She didn¡¯t kneel, she didn¡¯t bow, she just stood there, her eyes meeting mine with a clear and unblinking gaze.  Despite her lack of ceremony, I could feel that what she¡¯d just said weren¡¯t simple words.  There was weight behind them, power, something that I couldn¡¯t really put into words.  What I did know, on a bone-deep level, was that if she broke this promise there would be consequences.  Just what they¡¯d be I had no idea, but that they would be something severe was a given.

    I wasn¡¯t the only one to feel it either, because to the side I saw Hadriel relax slightly.  She was still ready, still prepared to act if she needed to, but the edge of tension seemed to have been released.

    ¡°Tres bien, it shall be an honour to fight by your side, great goddess,¡± Joan said, stepping forward, and offering a polite bow to Kali. ¡°Your prowess in battle is famed the world over, I am certain that your aid shall be of great value.¡±

    The dark-haired goddess gave a slightly bemused smile as she seemed to notice the resurrected soul for the first time.

    ¡°Oh?  You look like a fun one.  Once we¡¯ve got the meet-and-greet out of the way d¡¯you want to go out back for a spar?  It¡¯d be interesting to see what a mortal returned from the High Heavens can do.¡±

    Her tone was almost . . . flirty?  Enough that my thoughts went in a rather dirty direction for a moment.  That only lasted until I saw the look on the Hindu goddess¡¯s face though.  The eagerness in her features, the look in her eyes, I didn¡¯t know how I recognized it, but I knew it wasn¡¯t lust.  That was bloodlust, the look of someone anticipating a fight the way an alcoholic anticipated a fine bottle of wine, not the cheap stuff to tide them over, but the good stuff.

    ¡°Perhaps at some later point,¡± Joan replied, her tone devoid of anything but earnest sincerity. ¡°However, tonight there remain introductions to be made, and afterwards it would seem that Adam shall require a long night of rest.  Any battle between us that grows too hearty would no doubt make his sleep impossible, so it would be best to wait until a more opportune time.¡±

    Kali just stared at her for a moment, then glanced at me, then back to Joan, then back to me.

    ¡°So . . . you¡¯ve got the backbone and you lucked out with this one.  She is for real, right?¡±  At my silent nod, she continued. ¡°Okay, I think this is going to be interesting.¡±

    Without another word, Kali slumped back down onto her seat and made a ¡®your turn¡¯ gesture to Athena.  The Greek goddess had seemed slightly put out that she had to go along with such a casual direction, but she¡¯d been moving to speak to me even before Kali made the gesture, so it had been what she was doing anyway.

    ¡°Though we do not know whom you are descended from the power of the gods of Greece is strong within you.  As such it was decided that the Olympians would extend an offer of alliance and friendship to you.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± I asked, trying to be polite, but not showing weakness.

    ¡°In the first, I shall act as a teacher,¡± She explained. ¡°It shall be my duty to educate you upon the history and culture of your Olympian descent, as well as what duties might be expected of you.  I shall also serve as your first point of contact with the gods of Greece, with the hope that in time you may be introduced to more of your kin, and grow to be a part of the family.¡±

    That sounded pretty good to me.  Maybe she wasn¡¯t saying she¡¯d help guard me like Kali, but the value of an offer to learn more from one of the wisest deities in the Greek mythos wasn¡¯t something to underestimate.

    ¡°And what of battle, honoured Athena?¡± Joan asked, drawing the room¡¯s attention to herself again. ¡°To offer your wisdom is a boon that only the foolish would turn away, but what of when your student is in danger?  What of when he enters battle?¡±

    There was a pause as the tall goddess stared at the French Saint, her eyes judging, evaluating.  Then she offered a small nod.

    ¡°A teacher does not fight their student¡¯s battles for them, but at the same time, a teacher will act to protect their student.  If this privilege is not abused, then I shall stand at the side of Adam when it is called for.¡±

    ¡°Even in the halls of Heaven the wisdom of Athena is well known,¡± Hadriel commented as she stepped forward. ¡°It would be a boon to have upon our side in the trials to come.¡±

    ¡°But . . . what about your responsibilities?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, aren¡¯t you a major player in Olympus Industries?  I . . . look, is being here worth it?  Can the company afford to lose you?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an idle question; the goddess of wisdom was unquestionably a large part of why the divinely led corporation was doing so well.  Yes, they had a near-total monopoly on the creation and distribution of divinely empowered items.  Yes, Zeus himself had enough charisma to bring in recruits by the hundreds and investors by the busload.  Yes, Hephaestus was creating new products and production methods by what seemed to be the day.  However, it was Athena who was always credited with being the brilliant negotiator, the deal maker, and the bastion against those trying to use legal means to get their claws into the fledgling powerhouse.

    By being here her company had to be losing money due to her absence, huge amounts of money!

    ¡°There will be some disruption from my absence,¡± Athena allowed.  ¡°However, I feel that it will be minor.  I have recruited competent mortals, and Hermes is a skilled negotiator in his own right.  I may need to contact my family on occasion, but with the technology available in this new age my departure is not the crippling blow it might have been.¡±

    She paused for a moment, her look evaluating as she stared at me.

    ¡°Also, you are family.  It may not yet be clear how close you are, but it would be ill-done of me and my kin to ignore you.  Mortal coin is not so valuable that it would outweigh you, our blood.¡±

    ¡°. . . Thank you?¡±

    How was I meant to answer her?  What she¡¯d just said gave me some idea of the kind of value she placed on me, but a simple thanks seemed insufficient.

    A smile crossed the goddess¡¯s face.  It was beautiful, which was hardly a surprise, but what did strike me was the way the smile was tinged with . . . pride?  Self-satisfaction?  It wasn¡¯t an ugly emotion, but it was not one I had been expecting to see there, even if only briefly.  Then it was gone, and I was unsure if I had seen it at all.  I would have thought about it more, but I was distracted as Athena reached into her robes and pulled out a folded square of golden cloth.

    ¡°Your words do me honour,¡± She smiled as she began to unfold the cloth. ¡°However, it is not merely wisdom and learning that I bring.  Upon gaining so new and unexpected an addition to the family, my father felt it only fit that gifts should be offered to welcome you to the life of the divine.¡±

    The cloth finished unfolding, revealing itself to be a large sack.  To be sure, it was elaborately embroidered, and the golden cloth looked like it should have been used to make an emperor¡¯s best robes, but in the end, it was a sack.  More than that, it seemed to be completely empty, yet Athena was laying it out on the small table and opening it as though she intended to take something out.  With her being so tall the sight of her kneeling down to use the coffee table should have been awkward, but somehow she managed to make it look stately and dignified.

 Chapter 1: Oaths and Gifts: Part Two

    Chapter 1: Oaths and Gifts: Part Two

    ¡°The first gift is from my uncle, the King of the Underworld, Hades.  He knows that heroes must sometimes need to use stealth and cunning to face their foes, so he hopes this gift shall be of use in the future.¡±

    As she spoke, she reached into that strange sack and drew out a . . . helmet?  Yes, it was an ancient Greece-style helmet, like one of those worn by the Spartans, save that it didn¡¯t have one of those big mane things on the top.  Instead, the skull of the helmet was a smooth curve, and the face and nose guards formed a sort of mask that was iconic in modern culture.  The helmet was made of steel, polished to a near mirror shine, but otherwise unadorned.  I noted that the sack still looked as empty as before, so I guessed it to be like the small pouch hanging at my waist.  I began to wonder how they might compare to each other, but my thoughts were derailed as the goddess started to speak.

    ¡°This is a Helm of Darkness, a helmet that will provide invisibility for the one that wears it.  It was forged at my uncle¡¯s command by using a small shard of metal taken from his own Helm, and as such possesses a portion of its power.  Not only does it grant invisibility, it also muffles the noises made by those that wear it and defends from spells and enchantments that would be able to pierce normal cloaks of concealment and the like.¡±

    Well . . . wow?  What else was I meant to think?  Being able to turn invisible was one of the dreams of every child.  Hell, even quite a few grown-ups too, and it was just being laid out in front of me as a gift.

    Athena gently put the helmet down on the table and turned back to the bag.

    ¡°The second gift is from my other uncle, the god of the oceans and the shaker of the earth, Poseidon.  He hopes that his gift shall protect you from harm and see you safe through many battles.¡±

    Again, she reached into the sack, but this time she drew out something larger than the helmet.  It took me a moment to realise what it was, but as she laid it out on the table it finally clicked.  It was a breastplate, one made in the style of the ancient Greeks.

    It was one of those vest-like ones, the dark, almost black metal forged to resemble the musculature of a ridiculously ripped man.  The chest and abs stood out in sharp definition, sculpted from darkened metal that was almost black.  There was a small amount of ornamentation forged into it, edging to the individual pieces of metal wrought in gold, two small horses facing each just beneath the neck hole, small touches that seemed to highlight the fact that this was no dress armour.  This was meant for war, for battle, to turn aside blades and arrows that would otherwise take the life of the one wearing it.

    I could also feel power in it, and I think I would have been able to even before my Awakening.  I didn¡¯t need to call out my halo to feel the magic in that piece of armour, it practically radiated from it like heat from a fire.

    ¡°This is the armour of Achilles, forged by Hephaestus and worn in the war against Troy.  After his death, it was given to his son, Neoptolemus.  In time he gave his father¡¯s armour to his grandmother, the sea Nereid Thetis as a memento of his father and her son.  In turn, she eventually passed the armour to Poseidon, and now it is time for it to be worn in battle once more.¡±

    I was trying my best to keep a calm face on, but this was pushing it a bit.  This was the armour of ACHILLES, one of the greatest heroes of the Iliad!  Growing up my mum had read me so many stories, and the Trojan War had been one of my favourites.  This was the armour that Achilles had worn when he faced Hector?  I . . . I almost felt overwhelmed!

    Well, on a purely practical level I was grateful, I couldn¡¯t remember much, but most of the versions I¡¯d heard of the story agreed that after Achilles lost his original armour with the death of his friend Patroclus his mother had gone to Hephaestus and persuaded him to forge a sword, a shield and armour without equal.  These gifts, combined with his invulnerability and his great prowess, had made him only a step or two removed from flat-out invincible.  He¡¯d beaten Hector, he¡¯d slain the Amazon queen Penthesilea, and defeated fellow demigod Memnon.  In the end, he was laid low by a cowardly arrow to the heel where his armour didn¡¯t protect him, and where his invulnerability was absent.

    But my vulnerability wasn¡¯t in my heel; it was somewhere that this armour could protect very well.  Yes, I struggled to keep my face calm as I realized I could definitely see a use against my vulnerable bellybutton issue.

    ¡°Thirdly I bring a gift from my father, the King of Olympus, Zeus.  Somewhat more mundane than those of my uncles, he hopes that it shall prove more useful in removing the minor yet irritating obstacles from your path.¡±

    I had a hard time dragging my eyes away from the armour, but my curiosity was able to overcome my awe.  This time the goddess pulled out . . . a small wallet?  It was made from dark leather and seemed to fasten with a clip rather than using Velcro, like mine did.  All in all, it looked completely normal, mundane in every way I could think of.  Unsure of what else to do I reached out to it, glanced at Athena to make sure it was alright, then, at her small nod, picked it up.

    The wallet was not empty, it had a full feeling to it, the sides almost bulging due to whatever it held.  My curiosity piqued I unclasped it and opened it up.  Inside I found cards, lots and lots of cards.  They were plastic ones, in many colours and with many designs, some of which I recognized.  It took me a moment after I extracted them to realize that they were all credit cards with various American banks that I recognized, such as Western Bank, True Trust, NBI, and a host of others.  A quick check showed that there were also several other banks that I was familiar with due to my travels.  A couple of French ones, one that I recognized as being Swiss, a German one, a Greek one, and a couple of British ones.  All told there were a total of twenty-five different cards in the wallet, along with a small bit of folded paper.

    Unfolding it I saw that it was a print-out, one with pictures of each of the cards on it, with numbers next to the pictures.  The security numbers I guessed, meaning that I would be able to use these cards.  Not bad I supposed, but how much did they each have on them?  Or was I meant to work to get something into them?  With my new abilities, I could think of a dozen ways to make so serious money in pretty short order, but if that was the case then Zeus had given me a pretty crappy gift in comparison to his brothers.

    Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face because Athena suddenly spoke up.

    ¡°My father is aware that in order to operate in this modern era wealth is of considerable aid in easing your efforts.  Since the pathways opened once more Hermes has been working upon various projects and building up the wealth of himself and my family.  At Lord Zeus¡¯ command, he has prepared these accounts for your use, in the hope that the wealth contained in them will be of aid to you in efforts.¡±

    Well, that made more sense.  Not what I was expecting from the King of Olympus, but I could see the practicality of it.  I had power now, lots of it, but having some money to back it up would make things easier in many ways.

    ¡°How much are we talking about?¡±

    If it was a few thousand then I could work with that.  Granted, I didn¡¯t have a very clear picture of what I was going to be doing in the near future, but even if it was something like relief work to places that had been hit by gods fighting then-

    ¡°Each card contains an amount roughly equal to three million pounds sterling each, in the currency of the country in which the banks of the cards are based.¡±

    I didn¡¯t consider myself a greedy kind of guy.  My interests are mainly on the cheap side, books, games, reading on the internet, even my trips were as inexpensive as I could make them.  I¡¯m not the kind of guy who dreams about one day buying some sort of super expensive sports car, designer clothes, or outrageously costly jewellery.  That said, I have had daydreams about what I would do if I somehow won the lottery, but daydreams were all they had ever been.  I never seriously considered having that sort of money.

    And here I was, having been handed . . . how much?  Come on, this was basic maths!  Each card was something like three million . . . three million pounds, three million!   Oh, what I could do with-  No!  Come on, don¡¯t get distracted.  So th-three million each, and there were . . . how many cards?  I¡¯d counted them only a couple of minutes ago, how had I managed to forget how many there were?  It was . . . twenty-something.  Twenty-seven?  No, that wasn¡¯t it; it had been a rounder number.  Ummm . . . Twenty-five, that was it, twenty-five!

    So, it¡¯s three times twenty-five, so that¡¯s . . . that¡¯s . . .

    My head spun slightly as I realized that okay, that is a pretty big number.

    ¡°So, Lord Zeus is giving me seventy-five million pounds to help with whatever I¡¯m going to have to deal with?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the goddess replied, her words as calm as the surface of a lake in midsummer. ¡°My father felt such wealth would be of use in your future efforts.  There are also a small number of properties included in the wallet, locations you can use should you ever choose to travel in America.¡±

    Money and properties?  Some part of me was wondering just why the King of Olympus was being so generous with me, but the larger part of me was driven by another sort of curiosity.

    ¡°What kind of properties?¡±

    ¡°Nothing of great note,¡± She replied, ¡°An apartment in New York, a domicile upon the western coast, some tinker projects of Hephaestus that my father believed you might benefit from.  Minor gifts one and all.¡±

    It was almost ridiculous but having a wallet full of money and property in my hand almost seemed like more of a change than becoming a demigod.  Yes, I now had new looks, a huge pair of wings growing out of my back, and powers that most could only dream of, but there was something more familiar, more real, about suddenly having more wealth available to me than I¡¯d ever even thought would be possible in my lifetime.  Somewhere at the back of my mind, I could hear a small voice gleefully shouting; ¡°Screw the rules, I¡¯ve got money!¡±

    I took a deep breath, trying to dismiss the juvenile notions that sprang up of fast cars, massive TV sets and overpriced game systems.  I couldn¡¯t lose sight of the other gifts, just because the money was more immediately understandable.  Invisibility and invulnerability were more valuable than mere cash, even if each of them was limited.  I¡¯d been given treasures here, and unlike the metal sphere I¡¯d been given by N¨¹wa these had immediate use, especially the armour.

    Ever since I¡¯d learnt about my navel being my weak spot, the implications of it had clung to my mind no matter what I did.  In sparring it was worst of all, this constant fear that just making a single mistake, just dodging the wrong way or blocking too slowly would cause a hit to strike that small vulnerability.  Sure, I¡¯d done what I could to protect that critical spot, but there¡¯d always been the fear that it wouldn¡¯t be enough.  That armour would go a long way towards making me feel a bit safer, that was for sure.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I stated to Athena, inclining my head as much as I thought I could without being subservient. ¡°These are marvellous gifts, ones that I¡¯m sure will be of great service in time.¡±

    ¡°I am pleased they have found favour with you.¡± She replied, stepping back, even as she started to hold up the golden sack once more.

    I opened my mouth to say something else . . . and found a huge yawn swallowing up any words I might have said.  I actually heard my jaw crack as it stretched, even as my hand darted up to cover my gaping mouth.  I heard a snort from the side and glanced over to see Kali making no effort to cover her amusement.  Looking back at Athena I saw that she looked mildly irritated, but not offended.

    ¡°I . . . sorry about that,¡± As soon as I could speak again, I offered a somewhat sheepish apology. ¡°Looks like a wash and some adrenaline will only take me so far.¡±

    I tried to make a joke of it, smiling as I idly scratched the side of my face.  Kali was already smiling, and Joan joined her with an amused smile of her own.  Hadriel was as stoic as ever, and Athena nodded gravely.

    ¡°Perhaps it would be best if we continue this in the morning,¡± The Greek goddess allowed. ¡°Our introductions have been made, and gifts given.  This can be continued once you have regained your full vigour, agreed?¡±

    She didn¡¯t just address me but questioned the whole room.  Nobody had any objections though, and my own nod was damned heartfelt.

    ¡°So, got any spare rooms where I can crash?¡± Kali asked as she got up. ¡°I don¡¯t mind a night or two in the shed if I have to, but a bed¡¯s always nicer.¡±

    ¡°There are several rooms that have been properly furnished and prepared,¡± Joan stated, opening a door to let the goddesses out. ¡°They may not have been expected to be used, but they are ready, and should be quite comfortable.¡±

    She paused for a moment, looking at Kali, then at Athena.

    ¡°The beds may be somewhat small for you though.¡±

    ¡°A minor matter,¡± Athena waved a hand dismissively as she stepped through the door. ¡°One that can be endured with little discomfort.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit.  Glad to see you¡¯re not going to be a petty princess about this, blondie.¡± Kali sounded genuinely amused as she followed after them.

    ¡°Hardship is not something I am unfamiliar with,¡± Athena replied, her voice a tiny bit stiff. ¡°In my travels, I have ha-¡±

    Whatever else she might have been going to say was cut off from me as Hadriel pushed the door shut, her hand on my shoulder to keep me from following after the saint and the two goddesses.  Before I could ask her why she¡¯d kept me back she turned to face me, her expression questioning.

    ¡°I shall allow you to return to your room shortly, but before you rest, I must know . . . did something unplanned happen during your mission?¡±

    I blinked at her, my sleepy mind having trouble shifting gears for a moment.  I¡¯d been so caught up in trying to concentrate on the unexpected guests that had arrived, as well as the implications and complications inherent to their presence, that what had happened earlier had just slipped to the back of my mind.

    ¡°You . . . you could say that.¡±  I offered, a weak grin on my lips as I sat down in one of the armchairs.

    I really did mean to tell her about everything that had happened to me.  about Etienne, about what Typhon had done to him, about meeting with Li and the orb and bag that he¡¯d given me.  I meant to tell her about the sudden surge in my magic, about how I was stronger, about how scared I¡¯d been during the fight, and how out of my depth I¡¯d felt.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    There were loads of things I wanted to tell her, and almost as many questions that I wanted to ask her, but I never got a chance to voice any of it.

    As soon as I sat down in that armchair it didn¡¯t matter how uncomfortable I felt.  It didn¡¯t matter that I had to lift and spread my wings a bit to avoid putting all my weight on the joints that connected to my back.  For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was no longer having to hold myself up, either with my muscles or with my magic.  Yes, the back of the chair pressed into the inner portions of my wings made it feel as though I was sitting with my arms tucked behind me, but I didn¡¯t care.

    The armchair was soft, the room was warm, and I was so tired.  All I did was close my eyes for a moment, just to give them a chance to rest.  I really did plan to open them again and talk to Hadriel.  However, as soon as they closed it felt as though they had lead weights hanging from them.  I was vaguely aware that things weren¡¯t quite going to plan, but I just didn¡¯t care.

    The darkness stole over me, thick and comfortable, like a fresh blanket, and the last of my thoughts sank into the calm oblivion of sleep.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel stared down at the slumbering form of her charge and did her best to quell her minor frustration.

    Once again, she had to remind herself that despite his outer appearance Adam was not a true angel.  He was still subject to many of the weaknesses of mortal flesh, despite the enhancements that his body now enjoyed.  At least his need to intake food and drink was no longer a concern, though she was still uncertain as to why he chose to regard that as a loss rather than a gain.

    Turning away from the young demigod she closed her eyes and reached out with her more etheric senses.  Not far from herself, she could feel three signatures of power, one familiar, the other two all too new.  Joan was clear to her, having been in her presence for days now.  The familiar feeling of the High Heavens permeated the resurrected soul, something akin to the presence of an angel, but not quite the same.  The Angel of Swords found it soothing, a reminder of home while she existed upon this plane of flesh and matter.

    Athena felt potent, but it was in a way that the angel was familiar with.  There was something about the Greek goddess that was somewhat akin to the soldiers of Heaven.  Perhaps it was due to her nature as a virgin goddess of war in a pantheon that was known for their . . . passionate pursuits.  The goddess of craft and warfare had dedicated herself to the development of her skills, rather than the pursuit of her pleasures, and the results combined with her divinity were similar to the nature of angels, at least on a superficial level.  Consequently, the power that radiated from her put Hadriel in mind of being in the presence of one of the higher-ranked members of her brethren.  One of the commanders of armies, one of the spearheads, those that led the charge against the forces of hell.  It was a considerable power, one sufficient to lay cities to waste or drive back armies.

    And it was utterly overshadowed by the power of the second goddess.

    As a foot soldier of the High Heavens, the red-winged angel did not stand high in the ranks.  Yes, she was skilled and powerful, but she had never sought to elevate her position, content with her place as a combatant.  As a result, she had not spent much time in the company of the elite of the High Heavens, but that didn¡¯t mean she had never encountered them.  She had once been privileged to be commended by Michael himself for her part in one of the offensives against hell.

    She remembered standing in his presence and feeling his power.  Michael, one of the eldest of the warriors of the High Heavens, one of the great generals of their forces, one of the few angels to bear the title of both an archangel and a seraphim.  A one-time peer of Lucifer, a champion of the Almighty, one of the trump cards of the Heavenly Host.  She recalled being in awe of his might, of knowing how it compared to her own and how tiny she was by comparison.  Never in her life before or since had she felt anything similar, save for when she stood in the presence of her creator.

    Not until now.

    Kali . . . she, unlike Athena, could in no way be said to resemble an angel.  She was a goddess, pure and simple, an incarnation of mortal fears and dreams, yet a being that existed independently of them.  She was an incarnation of the domain she was connected to, a personification of a concept that was ancient and powerful.  Kali was a complex goddess, her domains not being easy to define.  In simplistic terms, she could be said to be tied to death, time, destruction, violence, and even the concept of ¡®doomsday¡¯, the end of all.  Some had called her the goddess of destruction, but that was not entirely accurate either.

    Lord Shiva was the god of destruction in the Hindu pantheon, but he was the destruction before renewal, the end that allowed for a new beginning.  Kali was the inevitability of destruction, be it through the violence of an attack, or simply the inevitable breakdown brought on by the passage of time.  In that way, she was the more fearsome deity, because she was the more implacable, the more inevitable.

    Beyond that, she was a warrior goddess, a being that had been birthed to destroy the seemingly indestructible.  Hers was a legend of blood, massacre and fear, and all of it done to defeat a great evil.  It wasn¡¯t an evil myth, but it was a fearsome one, one that made it all too easy to misinterpret her nature.  The ultimate combination of all these qualities was a goddess that verged on the demonic but remained righteous.  A goddess that served as one of the major trump cards to one of the strongest pantheons in the world.

    In truth, Hadriel was uncertain as to how she felt about the dark goddess having sworn her oath to Adam.  On the positive side, it meant that he now had a truly fearsome ally in his ranks, one of the greater powers of the world.  The crimson-winged angel was confident in her own skills, as well as those of Lady Joan, but also knew that she could not stand against the likes of the mightier gods and demons.  Perhaps in time, Adam would come into enough of his potential that he could stand amongst such ranks, but such would be far in the future if it ever happened at all.  Until then an ally of Kali¡¯s strength would be an invaluable asset.

    On the negative side, the Hindu goddess was a less . . . reliable ally than Hadriel would have preferred her charge to possess.  Yes, her strength and power were undeniable, but just as legendary was her bloodlust and battle frenzy.  Kali was known to descend into such fury that she would continue to fight even after a battle was over, with Lord Shiva famously being the only one able to calm her.  Her vow to Adam might protect him and his allies from her wrath, but an undisciplined soldier, no matter how powerful, could still be a millstone about an ally¡¯s neck.

    Hadriel did not sigh, such an expression of emotion was not natural to her, but the feelings within still churned in her heart.  This evening had been illuminating, in quite a number of ways.

    Lord Shiva.  Her charge was a Legacy of Lord Shiva!

    Such a bloodline was on par with Lady Bath Kol and went a long way to explaining the immense potential her charge seemed to possess.  In the Hindu pantheon, Lord Shiva stood as one of the unquestioned peaks of power, possibly even as the mightiest god of all.  His feats and accomplishments were myriad, and any Legacy of his was certain to be powerful.  Perhaps just as important was the connection it granted her charge to the Hindu pantheon since a demigod born of their lord¡¯s bloodline would command considerable respect.  The few gods of the Hindu pantheon that had made themselves known had mainly kept to themselves or focused on fighting their traditional enemies but had demonstrated their power.  If Adam could convince them to aid the High Heavens against the incursions of the forces of hell, then it would be a boon.

    ¡°Nnngh . . . nngghhhnn!¡±

    She was pulled out of her thoughts as Adam stirred in his sleep, a low murmur escaping his lips.  He didn¡¯t appear to be distressed, instead, he just looked mildly irritated.  As she watched his wings pulled up around him, forming a feathery cocoon about his slumped form, and he quieted down.  She just had time to see a smile spread across his face before a wing was drawn up, hiding his face.

    Hadriel¡¯s head tilted slightly as she looked down upon the sleeping young man.  Was he dreaming?  The thought nagged at her as she continued to stare, her mind drifting from the implications of his bloodline to something of a more trivial nature.

    What was it like to dream?  The thought nagged at her, even as she moved to take a seat of her own.  Angels were superior to mortals in many ways, but that very nature came at some costs.  The minds of the soldiers of the High Heavens were broader, deeper than that which mortals could naturally attain, but they were also less complex, less intricate.  Mortals had things like the free will, a balance of good and evil within them, and even a natural level of innovation that was rare amongst angels.

    The winged servants of the heavens had come into existence with their purpose and identity already fully formed.  They didn¡¯t know uncertainty in the way mortals did, and their minds were structured differently as a result.  The division between conscious and subconscious thought was far smaller in their case, little more than what was needed to maintain instincts and intuition.  This made them deadly in battle, where their minds were keyed to swift and decisive action, as well as able scholars and administrators in times of peace, but it did come with some costs.

    Though angels could sleep they could not dream.  This lack of dreams did not harm them, as it would mortals, and was a small thing, almost insignificant, but it refused to leave Hadriel alone.  She often wondered if it was just her amongst her brethren who felt this odd envy.  She was unsure of why she felt this way, but she often wished that she could dream, that she could slumber and escape into a world of wonder and nonsense born of her own buried thoughts.  Such a small thing, but it was a tiny private sin of envy that she allowed herself.

    She would have preferred to awaken Adam, to complete their discussion as well as learn what had happened during his small mission.  His state when he returned had clearly shown that matters had gone awry, but that was all she could deduce.  However, it was clear that her charge was exhausted, and she needed to allow for his mortal frailties.

    It was best to let him sleep and recover his strength.  Tomorrow he should be mostly, if not completely, recovered, as a result of his increased vitality.  She could afford to wait a few hours for her answers.  His sleep would also give her more time to consider the arrival of the goddesses and how to account for their presence in the future.

    For a moment she considered lifting him and carrying him to his bed so that he could sleep better, but then dismissed it.  he was comfortable enough where he was, and his wings and vitality would ensure he didn¡¯t need to worry about being cold.  Turning about she flicked the electric light off as she left the room, leaving her charge to his rest.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Marcello was trying to keep a grin from forming on his face, but it was far harder than he would have expected.

    Normally, smiles and other joyful expressions didn¡¯t come to him with any great ease.  It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t experience such emotions, but a lifetime of hardship and years in the military had left him naturally grim-faced.  Emotions were things that he had come to mask, to conceal lest they give other insight into his mind, or simply the impression of weakness.

    Still, despite more than a decade of such habits, it was difficult to maintain his grim veneer in the face of this success!

    He¡¯d thought that it was going to be impossible, that actually leaving the British Isles with the scabbard of King Arthur could not be done.  Yes, he¡¯d held onto the hope that Morgan le Fay knew what she was doing, but as pressure had mounted, as the noose about them had closed in, he¡¯d begun to think there was no chance of escape.

    In all truth, he¡¯d been shocked by the sheer scale and vehemence with which the king and his country responded.  He¡¯d expected the king to send out some of his knights on a quest to retrieve the scabbard, maybe enlist the aid of demigods or other magic users to aid them.  What he hadn¡¯t expected was the near full mobilization of the military, the police, and even some rescue services joining in the search.  Airports, docks, and railways stations, all of them had been occupied by forces that searched every passenger and staff member to see if the lost treasure was in their possession.

    And it wasn¡¯t just mortal forces that were searching either.  The Knights of the Round Table were out in force, spreading to all corners of the country as they sought the thieves of their king¡¯s lost artefact.  Magic users and demigods had come with them, but it had not been the small group of questers that Marcello had anticipated.  Instead, dozens had seemed to come crawling out of the woodwork, working in concert with troops and cops to weave a web meant to keep the scabbard from being taken.  It had been a huge effort, and it had almost been successful.

    The scarred mage had nearly swallowed his tongue when one such search party had come to the very docks where he and the others had been hiding.  And then he¡¯d gone on to nearly bite his tongue in half when he saw that the party actually included one of the king¡¯s own knights.  He knew the sorts of powers that those knights had, powers beyond mortals.  They were refinements of souls, people that had been mighty in life, and then joined Arthur in Avalon after their deaths.  There they had been tempered by the passage of years and the power of the sacred isle, meaning that when they returned to life, they were more than they had once been.  Just as Arthur was on par with a god, so were they on par with strong demigods.

    Given that the scabbard was tied to the magic of Avalon, a magic those knights had soaked in for centuries, they should have been able to sense it.  They should have been able to sense it more accurately than even a highly talented mage.  The check group had not been far from their hiding spot, only a handful of minutes¡¯ walk away.  They should have been able to easily find the lost scabbard.

    But they didn¡¯t.

    Morgan le Fay¡¯s magic had held, the enchantments she¡¯d woven into the covering he tightly held had worked!  Hours passed, day became night, and the knights hadn¡¯t come charging in to retrieve their king¡¯s lost treasure.  Instead, they had remained at their posts, waiting to see if anyone would try to enter the docks, unaware that the group they sought was already there.

    It had been nerve-wracking, the wait, the tension, constantly wondering if the precautions the immortal enchantress had taken would be enough.  He¡¯d spent hours thinking that any minute something would go wrong, that he¡¯d hear the breaking of wood and concrete that would signify that the knights had found them.  He¡¯d found himself wondering what would happen to him then, whether he¡¯d live to be tried by Britain¡¯s king, or if his patron would take steps to silence him before he had the chance to talk.

    Marcello knew it had happened before; agents of his patron that had been captured ended up dead before they could spill secrets they might have.  The deity he served had long-term goals, and at the current time, those goals seemed to be best served by him staying in the shadows.  Anything that might draw attention was dealt with ruthlessly.  And the scarred mage had no desire for such a fate to be inflicted upon him.

    However, the minutes became hours, and still, they were not found.  Then, just after three o¡¯clock in the morning, the silence of their hiding place was broken by a whisper.  It was so faint that at any other time, it would have been all but inaudible.  In the oppressive silence of their tension, it rang as clearly as the roar of a lion.

    ¡°It is time.¡±

    The voice was unmistakably that of Morgan le Fay, but this time the sorceress herself did not make an appearance.  Instead, a small globe of dully glowing green light manifested in the middle of the warehouse office.

    ¡°Follow this light,¡± Her words were a command that left no room for disobedience, not harsh. ¡°Preparations have been made.  It shall lead you along a secure route to a vessel that will allow you to escape.¡±

    That had been it.  Even though the other members of the small group had whispered questions, demanding more information, there had been no reply.  When the tiny sphere had begun to drift out of the office and towards a back door what choice had they had but to follow?  It was quite clear that the immortal enchantress had no use for their input, only their compliance, and they had no choice but to offer that compliance if they wanted to get out of this with their skins intact.

    The guidance offered by the dull light had proven to be perfect though.  It had led them past patrols, guided them to the hiding spots needed to evade detection from spells and sweeps, led them away from obstructions, and made sure they didn¡¯t stumble over such things as broken glass or anything that could give them away.  It had been gruelling, and by the time they made it to the small out-of-the-way pier at the far side of the docks, Marcello was soaked in sweat, his arms aching from where they clutched the wrapped scabbard to his chest in a death grip.

    There had been a small motorboat waiting for them there, barely more than a large dingy in truth.  The entire thing had been painted black and had been empty as a ghost ship.  There was no sign of who had brought it there, but the scarred mage noted that it remained in place, despite the lapping of the waves beneath it, and despite the fact it wasn¡¯t tied to anything.

    ¡°Get aboard.  Quietly.  Do not take your time, your window of opportunity is a small one and shrinking fast.¡±

    It had only taken them a matter of seconds to board the small boat, Marcello having the hardest time since he couldn¡¯t freely use his hands.  The instant they were all seated the small vessel had begun to move, though the motor had remained dead and their passage made no noise.  Behind them, the lights of the docks had finally disappeared into the distance, and the only lights had been from the stars above them and a silvery moon that hung in the sky.  Marcello had continued to anticipate the sounds of pursuit, the roar of an engine, the whine of a helicopter, and maybe even the splash of some enchanted steed riding across the water.  However, as minutes and then hours passed, he realized a single, amazing, fact.

    They¡¯d managed to make their getaway!

    That was the reason he was struggling to keep a smile from his face.  Against all odds, Morgan le Fay had actually managed to get him and the scabbard out of the country.

    He still held the wrapped scabbard tightly, but it no longer seemed quite as heavy as it had before.  Looking up he thought he could make out distant lights on the horizon.  It might have been a trick of his eyes, or it could be that they would soon be reaching land, either was fine with him at that moment.  After all, the worst was behind him now.  Once they reached the shores of France it would be a relatively simple matter to meet up with the immortal mage and hand the stolen artefact to her.

    Yes, he could now comfortably say that the worst was behind him.

    --------------------------------------------------------

 Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part One

    Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part One

    The first thing that my muzzy brain managed to latch onto, as I struggled my way out of sleep, was the fact that I really wanted something to eat.

    It wasn¡¯t that I was hungry, not really.  In fact, I felt pretty comfortable where I was, all warm and relaxed.  However, despite my contentment, I had an odd craving to munch on something.  Half-awake I found myself thinking about eggs and bacon, marinated steaks and fried potatoes, fluffy rice and the sort of curry that burnt your mouth in the best possible way.  I felt saliva gather in my mouth, and I idly licked my lips as I rose to full consciousness.

    Then cruel reality hit me as my mind came fully awake.  I remembered the price demanded by my new powers, namely the loss of any taste from food or drink, and felt the warm and relaxed contentment I¡¯d been enjoying turn sour.

    Blinking the sleep out of my eyes I groggily sat up, my wings unfurling and then catching on the arms of the armchair I was curled up on.  It didn¡¯t really hurt, but it was uncomfortable, and constricting.  For a moment I tried to get up the normal physical way, struggling against the weight of my wings as I leaned forward to stand.  There was a moment where I just struggled, unable to move forward, pinned by the weight of the wings I was still getting used to.

    Then I remembered that I no longer just had muscles to work with.

    It was a testament to how hard Joan and Hadriel had trained me that the magic came to me as easily as it did.  I could feel it flow through me, a cool wash of power that was both comforting and refreshing.  I felt it burn away the last of the sleep fog in my mind better than any coffee I¡¯d ever tried.  In the next moment, I wasn¡¯t using muscles and weight to get to my feet, instead, I levitated out of the chair, my pinions folding into a more comfortable position behind me.

    With that done I looked around and realized I wasn¡¯t in my room and had been sleeping in an armchair, my wings folded over me like a blanket.  It wasn¡¯t hard to work out what had happened, not given how tired I¡¯d felt the night before.  I stretched, noticing that despite not having slept in a bed I didn¡¯t feel stiff or cramped.  In fact . . . I felt pretty good, the pain of my overworked magic channels all but completely gone.  Looking at my hands I saw that the cuts and scuffs on my skin were faded, some small scabs being the only sign of the earlier bleeding.

    A knock on the door interrupted my examination.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    The door opened, and Joan stepped through.  She was wearing the under-suit that she wore under her armour, a sight I¡¯d grown used to over the last few weeks.  If she was wearing that then it meant there¡¯d be training later, probably combat training.  My musings were interrupted as she smiled at me, a warm and friendly smile.

    ¡°Ah, bon, it is good to see you are awake, Adam.¡±  She nodded, leaning against the frame of the door as she looked at me. ¡°I trust that you feel refreshed after a good night of rest?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied, feeling a bit self-conscious of the way I¡¯d just drifted off the night before. ¡°I feel loads better now.¡±

    ¡°Good.  You should be aware that both our guests have already risen from their sleep.  For the time being, they are content to allow you your recovery, but both of them will wish to speak with you soon.¡±

    Oh yeah, the full recollection of the night before came crashing into full recollection with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.  Looking over to the side I could see the gifts Athena had given me still lying on the table where she¡¯d displayed them.  The armour, the helmet, the wallet, all of them just sat there, and a greedy possessive part of me wanted to grab them and stuff them into the magic bag that still hung from my current belt.  Of course, it then hit me that I was currently sharing this house with two goddesses, literal ones!

    ¡°Okay . . .¡± I had to pause for a moment and wet my suddenly dry mouth. ¡°Okay.  Where do we go from here then?¡±

    ¡°To begin with,¡± Joan replied, stepping into the room and facing me. ¡°I think it would be best if you let me know exactly what happened to you yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Without really thinking about it I sat back down on the armchair, my wings spreading once more to accommodate me. ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s plenty to talk about there.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Emma hunkered down beside the broken tree stump that offered her cover and stared out at the edge of the Hallowed Sanctuary.

    If she¡¯d had any choice in the matter she wouldn¡¯t have been here.  If it had been up to her she¡¯d have been on the other side of the country.  But this was where Adam was, so this was where she had to be.  And it just so happened that there were now two powerful goddesses there as well.  And not just any goddesses either, these were two of the dangerous ones.

    When she¡¯d sensed them arriving Emma¡¯s heart had practically been in her throat.  It had been her worst-case scenario, assuming the deities were hostile of course, and she had immediately begun to make plans.  However, she¡¯d seen the gods being admitted into the Sanctuary without the need for force, and she sensed no conflict within it.  To almost anyone else it would have been impossible to scry the insides of the Hallowed Sanctuary, but Emma knew the tiny flaws in the spell, the cracks she could slip tiny threads of magic through.  It wasn¡¯t enough to affect the mighty spell, but it let her have an idea of what was going on within it.

    That was how she¡¯d been able to learn the identities of the goddesses, and that knowledge was why she was in her current uncomfortable position.

    Kali and Athena, it was not a combination of deities that Emma had been expecting to encounter, but it worried her.  Both goddesses were dangerous but in different ways.  Kali was power, violence and bloodthirst wrapped up in one barely contained package.  The Hindu mythology contained many powerful deities and demons, but when it came to sheer violence and savage might Kali was in a class of her own.  Athena was a more oblique danger.  She knew the value of manipulation and was skilled in both statecraft and insight into the mortal mind.  Emma needed to know why they were here, what they wanted with Adam, and how it might affect her own plans.

    All of that brought her back to her current situation, namely hiding in the woods on the edge of the Sanctuary and trying to learn more about the situation within.

    For her, it was a huge risk.  Yes, her wards should keep her from being sensed by any of those within the spell, but there was always the chance that something could go wrong.  If the likes of Joan or Hadriel sensed her . . . well, it wouldn¡¯t be pretty, even under the best circumstances.

    However, the need for knowledge drove her on.  So, Emma maintained her crouch as she fed more of her meagre stores of magic into the threads she was pushing deeper into the Sanctuary.  She had to be painstakingly slow, inching them in little by little to avoid any disruption that could be detected.  Her efforts had yielded much information so far, the identity of the goddesses as well as the fact that Adam seemed to have grown in power.

    She had also learnt something else, something that had shocked her since it should have been impossible.  Still, her careful analysis had confirmed it to her and left no doubt.

    The Hallowed Sanctuary, a spell that should have lasted for several more days and should still have been able to repel entire armies, was breaking down faster than it should have done.  If her estimates were correct then it would only hold for one more day, two at the absolute most.  And once it fell Adam and his allies would have no safe harbour to fall back to.

    What made it even worse was that Emma was almost certain that neither the resurrected saint nor the warrior angel guarding him was aware of what was happening.  The only reason that she knew about it was because of her magic so carefully interacting with the spell.  To those monitoring it from inside this subtle degradation would be imperceptible.  They¡¯d be expecting more time to prepare for leaving the spell¡¯s protection, and then it would break early upon them.

    What was even worse was that Emma couldn¡¯t understand why this was happening.  She knew the spell had been perfectly cast, and she knew it had settled properly.  When she¡¯d slipped through it before she¡¯d been able to confirm that it was every bit as strong as the mighty bulwarks that she¡¯d seen in the past.  She¡¯d seen no hints of introduced corruption or some other spell working against it.  There should be no reason for it to be breaking down as it was, and yet there it was, subtly falling apart.

    To her that meant only one thing, sabotage.  Somehow the spell had to have been flawed from the start, some kind of imperfection that gathered momentum as time went on.  Such a change had to have been tiny, minuscule to the point where it could be slipped into the casting without any of the angels performing it noticing.  The flaw couldn¡¯t gain the power needed to bring the Sanctuary down early, but it was able to shave off a few short, but potentially critical, days off the spell¡¯s duration.

    The implications of such a sabotage had hit Emma almost like a physical blow.  The ranks of the angels had no traitors amongst them, their very nature prohibited it.  Those who would betray them immediately Fell, cast from the ranks of Heaven by the very act of choosing to make that betrayal.  How could the sabotage be conducted then?  Some sort of control the victim was unaware of?  Blackmail of some sort?  Some agent of hell actually infiltrating the High Heavens?  Any one of them was a catastrophic possibility, but not one she could act upon.

    Her principal concern had to be Adam!  She had to let him know what she¡¯d learned.  That his protection was going to fail sooner than anticipated!

    Unfortunately, breaking back into the Sanctuary to let him know that would be nigh suicidal until she had more information.  That was what brought her back to her current situation, slowly infiltrating the Hallowed Sanctuary so that she could learn enough to get to the demigod without being killed in the process.

    Patiently, carefully, she continued on.

 Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part Two

    Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part Two

    Joan stared at me as I finished recounting what had happened to me the day before. Throughout my explanation, I¡¯d seen plenty of emotions flit across her face, though she had been quick to control them. There had been surprise, concern, shock, irritation, anger, sympathy, more surprise, and then excitement and curiosity as I went through the events. She asked me some questions about Etienne, then about my wait for him, then finally about Li, asking me to clarify some details.

    When I was done, she stayed silent for a moment, just looking at me. The silence seemed to drag on for a bit, enough to make me feel awkward, then she broke it.

    ¡°Adam. You should know that I am proud of your achievement in helping a fellow demigod to escape a horrifying situation. That you were able to . . . rebalance his damaged divinity is remarkable, and something that speaks well to your future power. More than that, it was an act of commendable compassion, healing rather than harming.

    ¡°I am also pleased to hear that you managed to advance your power. We shall have to conduct some tests to see how great your development has been. Honoured Hadriel believed that battle might prove to be a catalyst to draw forth your potential, this would seem to confirm that thought.

    ¡°Lastly, the confirmation of one of your divine ancestors is another boon to us. The knowledge that you are also descended from the goddess N¨¹wa will grant us further insight into your potential powers, assuming such information is accurate, of course.¡±

    That made my eyes widen. During my meeting with Li it had never even occurred to me that he might be lying. His appearing, obviously with power of his own, the ways he¡¯d addressed me, the orb of metal he¡¯d passed to me, even the pouch I¡¯d received, all of it had struck me as genuine on a deep level. Of course, there hadn¡¯t been any real proof that he¡¯d told the truth, just his word. I opened my mouth to ask Joan what she thought but never got a chance to say a word as she kept on speaking, her voice growing hard.

    ¡°However, why did you act so foolishly after losing the charm with which to contact us?!¡± She wasn¡¯t shouting, but her voice had risen. ¡°Why were you so reckless as to continue to face some rampant demigod rather than return to us and ask for aid?!¡±

    Her eyes were locked on me, and their gaze pinned me like a butterfly to paper from sheer intensity. What made it even more piercing was the emotion there, not simply outrage, but also . . . fear? Fear and concern. I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, what I had done, but again she spoke before I could.

    ¡°Adam, I was set upon this plane to protect you, to teach you, to aid you. I do not expect you to sit back and let me fight in your place, if for no other reason than that in time your power shall eclipse my own. But until then, let me aid you!¡±

    She took a step back gesturing about herself.

    ¡°Do you understand? All this is for you! I, honoured Hadriel, even goddesses Athena and Kali, we are all here because of you! Mon dieu, if you die, then it is for nothing, the world will turn on, and it shall grow darker without the light you shall one day cast. You cannot take such risks! You cannot afford to let yourself die in some backwood, fighting against a monster that is so small in the grander scheme of things. You have to be more discerning, Adam, too much depends upon you.¡±

    I . . . wasn¡¯t entirely sure how I should respond to that. In truth, I never liked it when Joan brought up my supposed destiny. I knew she had complete faith in it, and I suppose that some part of me accepted it as true. But, at the same time it still just didn¡¯t feel quite real to me, even after all I¡¯d gone through. I tried to ignore it, instead focusing on the other part of what she¡¯d said.

    ¡°I do understand, but leaving just . . . it didn¡¯t feel right, you know?¡± I said, trying to explain. ¡°Just turning and coming back at the first sign of real trouble . . . it was more like running away than getting help. Plus, it felt wrong to leave him like that. Even if he was an enemy, I didn¡¯t want to leave him at my back, and once I got talking to him . . . I couldn¡¯t just leave!¡±

    There was a pause as she just kept looking at me, our eyes locked in a measuring stare.

    ¡°Adam . . . there is bravery, and there is recklessness,¡± Her voice was softer now, but I could still hear that core of iron in it. ¡°I shall not ask you to discount your instincts or your compassion, but you must show greater judgement. You must not give in to the heat of the moment, and you must remember that you are not alone, and you are not expected to be. Your desire to stand upon your own merits has value, and in the future, I do not doubt that you shall stand tall, but until then allow us to help you.¡±

    I understood what she meant, and I couldn¡¯t really say she was wrong. Still, I was sure that what I¡¯d done at the time hadn¡¯t been a mistake. If I hadn¡¯t done it would I have been able to help Etienne like I had? If Joan and Hadriel had been there with me would I have been able to make that link I¡¯d forged out of desperation? If they¡¯d been with me would I have pushed myself as much as I had?

    Slowly I nodded, my thoughts racing as I tried to put my thoughts into words.

    ¡°I get what you mean,¡± I said slowly. ¡°I get that I should have been more careful, and I¡¯ll try to be in the future.¡±

    Joan smiled as she began an answering nod of her own but paused as I continued.

    ¡°But . . . I don¡¯t think I was wrong this time. If I¡¯d left, if I¡¯d waited . . . I don¡¯t think we¡¯d have been able to save him when we got there. We¡¯d have just found the monster, nothing of Etienne left.¡±

    The French saint frowned slightly but offered another, slower, nod.

    ¡°I was not there,¡± She admitted. ¡°So, I cannot know how it was at the time. I shall trust your judgement in this matter, but please show more care in the future. Agreed?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I replied, trying to defuse the heavy atmosphere. ¡°I¡¯ll try to avoid fighting powerful insane demigod monsters on my own. I really don¡¯t want it to become a habit.¡±

    The quick smile I got out of her seemed genuine enough, so my attempt at humour seemed to have worked. She came deeper into the room, taking a seat in one of the armchairs facing the one I was sitting in.

    ¡°Tr¨¨s bien, then let us move on to other topics,¡± She said, leaning forward as she sat. ¡°These balls of metal that you now have, show them to me.¡±

    I nodded and soon had both of them out. Joan stared at them both, her gaze lingering on the sphere Li had given me, the one he called the Thousand Heavenly Blessings Metal Sphere. The other one, the more misshapen dark orb of metal I¡¯d found at the battle site, caused her to frown slightly, her face more puzzled than disturbed. She got out of her chair and came over, but her approach was slow, almost as though she was worried she¡¯d scare them if she moved too fast.

    ¡°Well,¡± Her voice was low as she reached out to gently touch the darker sphere. ¡°I am honestly surprised, Adam. How could I possibly have expected you to stumble across such treasures in a single day?¡±

    ¡°You know what they are?¡±

    ¡°I know what one of them is,¡± She replied, gesturing to the sphere Li had given me. ¡°Or at least I have a strong notion. The metal this ball is composed of feels very similar to the divine metal that angels use to forge their weapons and armour. It is not identical, but the power within it is almost a match.¡±

    She paused, her eyes flicking from the orb and then to me several times.

    ¡°It lends weight to the claim that you are descended from the goddess N¨¹wa. The similarities are offset by the differences in casting and refinement. I am no sage in the art of divine metals, but a portion of my training by the soldiers of Heaven was in the forging of my own weapons and armour. I did not create the materials I used, only reformed and reforged them, but that was sufficient to grant me some familiarity with them. From what I can sense this metal is infused with the celestial nature of the Jade Court, the governing deities of the Chinese divinities.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure how I was meant to react. I was really glad that it didn¡¯t seem as though Li had been lying to me, and it helped cement the possibility of N¨¹wa being my ancestor. However, I had no idea what having a small sphere of this metal meant. If it had been larger then I could see it being used to make something useful, maybe a shield or some armour, but the sphere was only the size of an average orange. That wasn¡¯t enough metal to make anything other than a small knife at most. Was that what I was expected to do with it?

    My confusion must have shown because Joan continued.

    ¡°It is a small amount, but do not be overly concerned. Many great weapons have been forged using combinations of magical metals. The Norse Mjolnir, the Irish Gae Bolg, even the famed Excalibur, all of them were created with a combination of materials, rather than just a single metal. Even a gift the size of a seed can be valuable, and you have much more than that here.¡±

    ¡°What about the other one?¡± I asked, lowering the gift passed to me by Li and holding up the smaller and darker ball of metal. ¡°Do you know what it is?¡±

    A troubled look passed across the resurrected saint¡¯s face as she looked back at the strange lump. She didn¡¯t seem concerned, which I took as a good sign. Instead, she just stared at it, as though it were a riddle she was trying to answer.

    ¡°There you have me,¡± She admitted, reaching out to lightly prod the metal with a fingertip. ¡°I can tell that it is not harmful, but I have never heard of a metal with such a reaction to magic. I have heard of stones that consume magic, I have heard of metals that can disrupt spells they come into contact with. But this metal . . .¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t move it with magic,¡± I volunteered. ¡°When I tried the TK just came apart as soon as I tried to get a grip. The weird thing is that I could still use magic when I was touching it.¡±

    To demonstrate I closed my fingers around the dark ball, then reached out with Arcana to levitate the wallet Athena had given me the night before. There was no disruption to my magic at all, the act as smooth and controlled as I could have wished for.

    ¡°C''est intrigant,¡± Joan commented, a small spark of light jumping from her finger to the misshapen ball, only to splash on its surface as though it had been a droplet of water. ¡°It only appears to respond to magic that affects it directly. And you say that you just found it in the remains of the demigod''s monstrous form?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied as I nodded. ¡°After he . . . got smaller, more controlled, the rest of him just broke up into something like sand. I found that in a pile of it. I¡¯d probably have missed it if some light hadn¡¯t hit it just right.¡±

    ¡°I see. May I?¡±

    The French saint asked as she reached for the shiny dark lump of metal. At my nod she picked it up, weighing it in her hand. She held it up to the light coming in through the window, then turned it over several times, studying it from various angles.

    ¡°I cannot be certain,¡± She finally admitted, handing it back to me. ¡°But I believe that it might be some form of hardened essence.¡±

    She said it as though that should mean something to me, but my blank look must have conveyed my ignorance because she explained.

    ¡°As beings of power live it is only natural that power accumulates within them. This is true of you, of me, of angels and gods, even demons and monsters. In most cases when such creatures die that accumulation of power is absorbed into them. For immortal beings, it accompanies them when they return to their natural plane of existence, their absorption of it going some way to compensate for the loss of power incurred by the destruction of an avatar. However, for beings that die permanently, the results can be different.¡±

    She pointed at the smaller of the balls, prompting me to put it down on the arm of my chair as I slipped the other one back into my pouch of holding.

    ¡°In such cases the accumulated power has no channel to follow, so on most occasions, it just dissipates into the atmosphere. However, there are times when it instead congeals, hardening into a solid state. What it becomes is influenced by the nature and power of the being it was accumulated within. Sometimes it takes the form of scales or hide, sometimes it can be metal or wood. On rare occasions, I have heard of it even taking on the form of completed weapons, or pieces of armour, though such occurrences are extremely rare. Unless I am mistaken, this is one such condensed power, though what it is now I am less certain of.¡±

    I looked at her, then back at the black ball, my expression most likely as bemused as I felt. Loot? Was she talking about a monster drop LOOT SYSTEM? I¡¯d been able to stretch my mind and credulity to take in a lot of stuff. I¡¯d learnt about gods, magic, angels, and demigods. Some of it had been easy, some of it had been near impossible to get my head around, but this . . . this might just be a step too far in the direction of absurdity! Life should not resemble a computer game this closely!

    Taking a deep breath I did my best to calm myself, focusing on the dark lump of metal as I did so. I told myself that this was fine, that it wasn¡¯t rationality giving up the ghost. Yes, item drops were a popular part of video games, but there was also a basis for it in mythology. Heracles, for example, was famous for claiming spoils from the creatures he slew. He got an invulnerable hide from the Nemean Lion, and he got lethal poisoned arrows from the Hydra. Seigfried claimed power by bathing in a dragon¡¯s blood, and by eating its heart. The same was true in Chinese mythology, if I remembered right, something about claiming pearls from a dragon. If I looked at it from that angle it was easier to swallow.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°So . . . do you think it¡¯s worth anything?¡± I asked, my tone exaggeratedly greedy as I tried to waggle both my eyebrows.

    My small joke seemed to go down well because Joan grinned before answering.

    ¡°That is a difficult matter to be sure of,¡± She admitted. ¡°That it is metal means that, like your gift from your ancestor, there may be value in it as a forging material. Likewise, it might be of use as a reagent or ritual component. Its natural property against magic is of interest, though it might reduce its value if it cannot interact with other magic due to it. For now, it seems to be capable of being stored in your pouch easily enough, I would recommend keeping it in there until you find either a use for it or someone that might value it enough to barter with you.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I agreed, slipping the ball of shiny dark metal back into my pouch. ¡°I can get behind that. So, what¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°That is the question, is it not?¡± The French saint sat back down. ¡°There are still some days left of the protection afforded to us by the Hallowed Sanctuary. It was originally the plan of honoured Hadriel and me to use those days to further train you, hopefully building upon what you might have learnt about yourself during your outing. Once the Sanctuary fell there were several missions that you could have cut your teeth upon and used to build some notoriety, both with the divine beings and with the mortal world. However, that was before two goddesses decided to ¡®honour¡¯ us with their presence.¡±

    She didn¡¯t say the word ¡®honour¡¯ with spite or contempt, but there were definitely some strong emotions there, and I felt my curiosity rise. Before I could ask a question though, another thing occurred to me.

    ¡°Oh yeah, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. It''s about the Hallowed Sanctuary. I noticed something off when I came back yesterday.¡±

    Joan sat up a bit straighter and her eyes narrowed slightly.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°When I came back yesterday it looked . . . weaker, kind of fragile. It was stronger when I left, but when I got back it looked like it might break. Is there something wrong with it?¡±

    Joan visibly relaxed, settling back in her chair.

    ¡°It is good that you are aware of such a change, but there is no need to be concerned. What you have observed is merely a result of allowing goddesses Athena and Kali to enter. Their presence has caused some disruption to the Sanctuary due to their sheer power, but the fragility you saw is simply a cosmetic change, the Sanctuary remains firm.¡±

    I nodded again, then tilted my head slightly as I thought of something.

    ¡°Is their being here a problem? Not to the Sanctuary, I mean to us. To what we¡¯re going to do next. Could they be a problem?¡±

    Joan leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh.

    ¡°Oui et non. They bring power to your side, which can be of value, but their presence also escalates the situations you may find yourself in. Deities such as they will not be content to wait as you build yourself up. They will offer you aid but will also demand a suitable stage upon which to perform. Also, power calls to power, and their very presence may draw challenges that you are not yet ready to face.¡±

    I nodded, seeing where she was coming from, but she wasn¡¯t finished.

    ¡°Still, they are here, and it is unlikely that they shall be leaving, so we must live with the world we have, not the one we wish for.¡± She sat back up, her hands clasped in her lap. ¡°Their being here does offer opportunities. As educated as honoured Hadriel and I are in the supernatural realm I shall admit that the majority of our knowledge is focused upon the High Heavens and our foes. We know something of the pantheons, the faery courts, the spirits of the Far West and the empires of the East, but our knowledge is only superficial when compared to that of a goddess of wisdom and learning such as goddess Athena.

    ¡°She knows many things we do not. Many secrets, many alliances, and many small details that may carry much more weight than they seem to. This is not solely on her own pantheon and mythology either. During the Age of Legends, she was the Olympian ambassador to many of the other pantheons. She is knowledgeable on them as well, both their legends and their cultures, information that may well prove invaluable in the future.

    ¡°As for the goddess Kali . . . she brings us power and reputation. Her contributions are less wide-ranging, but I have no doubt they will be important. I am confident that I am a match for any nine demigods out of ten. Honoured Hadriel is a tested soldier of Heaven, she has faced demons, rogue spirits, and even rampant gods. But neither of us is in the same tier as Lady Kali. Quite frankly, I doubt that even Lady Athena herself could survive if a death battle broke out between them. She might make a fight of it, but Lady Kali is unquestionably the mightier of them.¡±

    She looked up at me, her eyes intent.

    ¡°That is the goddess that has sworn to aid you, do you understand? Any enemies you might gain will have to take her into account, and that will mean the dangers you face will be proportionately increased.¡±

    Silence reigned as I processed what she¡¯d just said. The simple fact was that I had only a vague idea as to the real power of a god. Sure, I¡¯d seen pictures online of the aftermath of when gods had fought, smashed buildings, melted concrete, and craters big enough to fit whole houses into, but it wasn¡¯t the same. That was comparable to what I¡¯d managed against Etienne, greater, but in the same sort of ballpark. I knew that when gods put in some effort they could do much more, much much more.

    So, now I not only had that sort of power in my corner, but there was a good chance I was going to have to be up against something like that in the future. Wonderful.

    ¡°We still have time left before the Sanctuary ends,¡± Joan said, her tone reassuring. ¡°And the presence of the goddesses does afford us some opportunities that may well prove invaluable in the future.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, my curiosity momentarily replacing my worry.

    ¡°We have allied gods with us, powerful and skilled ones,¡± The French saint explained. ¡°They can help train you. They can grant you experience in facing the full power or skill of a god but upon a relatively safe field of combat. Do you understand how rare an opportunity that is? For most, the first time they face the might of a divinity is overwhelming, often fatally so, but you shall hopefully have the chance to learn at that level before facing it in true battle. You shall be able to practice under the pressure of facing such power, to grow accustomed to it. you shall be able to learn where you stand in comparison, and what you can do to either fight or flee.¡±

    Her sudden enthusiasm caught me by surprise. Her earlier tone had been graver, but now she seemed almost excited by the possibilities occurring to her. A thought occurred to me, and I had to ask.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t I have done the same thing with Hadriel? I mean, she¡¯s an angel, right? Shouldn¡¯t she be on par with them?¡±

    ¡°That is a question with a . . . complicated answer,¡± Joan replied. ¡°And not one to go into at this moment since it would take some time to explain. Remember to ask me about it later though, it is something that you should know.¡±

    That piqued my curiosity even more, but if she said it would take time to go through then I could wait.

    ¡°Where are Kali and Athena right now?¡± I asked, suddenly curious as to what the goddesses were doing.

    ¡°Goddess Kali is still abed,¡± The resurrected saint informed me. ¡°She appears to be enjoying her slumber and asked not to be disturbed when she went to bed last night. Goddess Athena has not slept at all. She has been working in her room, though I do not know the subject of her work. She also requested not to be disturbed until she was finished. So, for now, at least, neither of our new guests will be disturbing us.¡±

    ¡°Guess that gives us a bit of time to work things out some.¡± I offered. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m feeling more than a bit intimidated with them being here.¡±

    ¡°A sensible reaction,¡± Joan assured me, a smile on her lips again. ¡°It would require a very brave man, or at least a very foolish one, not to feel such in the face of such powerful goddesses. However, remember that you are not as other demigods are. Your power will one day be comparable to theirs. They know this as well, otherwise, they would not be here, their words of family and fellowship aside. You are not someone they can ignore, remember that and take heart in that knowledge.¡±

    There it was, Joan¡¯s faith in me and my nebulous future. It was reassuring, knowing that someone like her believed in me, but it didn¡¯t completely dispel my own concerns.

    ¡°Yeah. I know that I¡¯m stronger now, but the idea of having that kind of power . . . it still doesn¡¯t seem real.¡± I admitted.

    For a moment the French saint just looked at me, and then her smile grew wider.

    ¡°Well, you have told me that you felt stronger after your recent battle. So, tell me about this increase in your power. How great would you say it was?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it happened just after I lost control of things,¡± I admitted. ¡°Etienne had me down on the ground and I couldn¡¯t get away. He was pounding on my shields until they broke, and when they did I knew that I was next. Then . . . I don¡¯t know, my halo started to make a note like a bell, only it just went on and on, and I suddenly had more power to throw around than ever!¡±

    ¡°Just what do you mean by that?¡± Joan asked, curiosity clear on her face. ¡°Please try to be as concise as you can.¡±

    ¡°It . . . it was like someone suddenly hooked me up to my own personal powerplant,¡± I offered. ¡°You know how magic is like colours in my head? Well, it was like I could suddenly just channel more of the colours than ever. Like I could make them bigger and stronger than ever before.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Well, you remember the first time we sparred with me using magic?¡± Seeing her nod, I made a wide gesture with my arms. ¡°It was like I could do more . . . just more of everything! Back then I could only just move enough sand to fill a . . . a bathtub or something like that. Now I can yank up boulders and stone spears shoot out of the ground! It¡¯s like that with everything, fire, lightning, ice, I¡¯m way stronger than I was before with all of them!¡±

    I could feel a grin spreading across and did nothing to contain it. Remembering just what I¡¯d managed in my fight with Etienne was exhilarating. It made me think of what I might be capable of in the future, of what my real potential might be.

    ¡°Please could you summon your halo,¡± Joan asked me, interrupting my thoughts of future god-like power.

    I nodded as I sent the mental command. The now-familiar sound of metal snaps and pops filled the room as the circles of floating metal pieces appeared above my head, my sense of the magic about me coming into sharper focus as they did so. However, there was something new, a low, almost imperceptible, hum. A note that hadn¡¯t been there before. It hung at the very edge of hearing, so faint that it was no surprise that I¡¯d missed it in that clearing after the fight, or when I was flying back. Strangely the note didn¡¯t grind on the senses at all. Instead, it felt comforting, something about it making me absolutely certain that it was on my side.

    For her part, the French saint seemed more puzzled than anything else as she reached above my head and poked at the halo.

    ¡°Once again, you have succeeded in perplexing me, Adam.¡± She admitted as she took a step back. ¡°I have never heard of a partially activated halo. Indeed, I had no idea such a thing was even possible.¡±

    ¡°Errr . . . . what?¡±

    Her words took me by surprise, but how could I have expected something like that?

    ¡°Your halo . . . it is active, and serving as a focus for your power, but at the same time it is not feeding you any additional strength.¡±

    She paused for a moment, and though I couldn¡¯t see it from my angle I was suddenly unquestionably aware that she was using a mote of light to poke at one of the components of my halo. The knowledge was just there in my mind. I heard a slight change to the note of the halo for a second, then it returned to its previous cadence.

    ¡°Yes,¡± She murmured, more to herself than to me. ¡°It no longer seems to be controlling your mana flow for you, at least not completely. Were you able to make some sort of breakthrough? Or has some sort of instinctive control been triggered?¡±

    She stepped back, looking at me appraisingly.

    ¡°How much more powerful do you feel, Adam? Be as honest as you can.¡±

    ¡°I feel much stronger,¡± I admitted, looking down at my hands, then back up to her. ¡°It¡¯s like . . . before I could only see the edges of what I could do, you know? There was loads I could do but it was all so limited. I could see more that I could do, big stuff, things that I could really use as weapons and shields, but I didn¡¯t have the muscle to pull them off. Now I do though!¡±

    An orb of energy sparked to life over my right palm, fire first, then shifting to a glowing ball of light, then a cracking sphere of arcing electricity, then a semi-transparent whirling ball of spinning air, then back to fire. It was so easy, so simple. I lightly tossed the ball to my other hand, the cycle of shifting states continuing even as I caught it and bounced it back. I could feel a grin starting to split my face at the simplicity of what would once have been a gruelling test of control.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got other ideas now,¡± I told her. ¡°Stuff I couldn¡¯t see how to do before, but I might be able to manage now, things I saw you and Hadriel pulling off.¡±

    My thoughts were going to things like the light constructs that Joan had used in their sparring matches, or the living lightning that our resident angel could throw around. I didn¡¯t think I could match their more impressive feats, but I could probably copy some of their simpler tricks.

    ¡°Vraimant?¡± Joan sounded curious, but there was also an edge to her tone that I was missing in my growing enthusiasm. ¡°This growth in power sounds like a great boon.¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± I agreed, still distracted by the shifting magic orb I now held suspended between my palms. ¡°I didn¡¯t really have time to do much against Etienne other than throw everything I could as hard as I could. Then I was just so tired when I got back. But now . . . now I can feel it better. I can sort of sense it, just feel how much more . . . push I¡¯ve got. It¡¯s . . . it¡¯s awesome!¡±

    By the end of my explanation, I was talking more to myself than to Joan, my attention turning inwards as I actively poked with my will at the networks of energy running through me. I could feel the magic, the sparked mana that flowed through my body and my wings. I could feel the chi, the life force that powered my vitality. Both of them felt stronger, more invigorated, so much more compared to before.

    ¡°Then it would be best to learn the extent of this growth.¡±

    I should have noticed the oncoming train at that point, but I was just so distracted by the chance to finally take a careful look at my increased power. I could tell that some of it was tied to the halo, and then there was the development of my internal power, but there were other changes, small but fascinating. Things like my muscles, where tiny threads of chi and magic were running through them. Threads that didn¡¯t seem to be a part of the energy circulatory systems that I¡¯d sensed before. Instead, they seemed more like . . . effects? Spells? They were more akin to the extensions of power I made to affect the world, like fireballs or lightning bolts. Only these were clearly not destructive, instead they seemed to be reinforcing my flesh rather than damaging it.

    It wasn¡¯t just the muscles either. I could sense similar threads running through my bones, my skin, even through my eyes and eardrums. I couldn¡¯t feel it, not in the conventional way, but once I focused in on them it seemed so easy to perceive them. And there was more, other things happening . . . deeper. It was like I couldn¡¯t ¡®see¡¯ them, but I could tell the way they were disturbing other things I could see. It was enough to give me a vague impression, a notion of what was happening. Joan said something else, but I was too distracted to pay attention, just making a general sound of agreement as I tried to narrow my perception, to gain more focus.

    ¡°Splendide!  We shall begin immediately.¡±

    That drew me out of my reverie, my eyes blinking as I realized I¡¯d missed something. And given how pleased Joan sounded I was pretty sure it was something I should have been paying attention to.

    ¡°Sorry . . . what? I got lost in my head there for a sec.¡±

    I didn¡¯t get time to ask anything else, because the French saint grabbed me by the wrist and promptly dragged me out of the room. I barely had time to fold my wings in as tightly as they¡¯d go as I was pulled through the door and down a short corridor, the scratches on the wall showing where I¡¯d failed before. I was so intent on making sure that my sharp feathers were being carefully tucked in that I didn¡¯t voice anything else until Joan pulled me through a door and I was out in the morning sun.

    With a bit more space around me, I could relax and let my wings unfold into a more comfortable position. It also let me look up at the resurrected soul, my mouth open to ask her what was going on.

    Then I noticed that she was now standing in full armour, her sword at her side and a smile on her face. A smile I recognised from our previous training sessions.

    Suddenly I had the impression that getting lost in the study of my changes might not have been the best idea.

    ¡°Well then, Adam. Let us learn how you have grown.¡±

    I just had time to draw on my power before she came at me, and then there was no more time for thinking.

 Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part Three

    Chapter 2: The Morning After: Part Three

    He wasn¡¯t awakened by the sound of traffic, nor by the bustle of the morning crowds.  Maybe he¡¯d grown used to those over the last few days, enough that they no longer bothered him.  Maybe he¡¯d just been so exhausted of late that he just managed to sleep through them.  It wasn¡¯t like it mattered all that much.

    What had woken him up had been the smell of sizzling beef and frying onions.  The scents had drawn him from confused dreams of deep forests and icy rivers, back to a waking world where his stomach was loudly demanding he find the source of the delicious scent.  Stiff limbs stretched as he came fully awake, shoving aside the dirty blanket he¡¯d used to cover himself through the night.

    The alleyway that he¡¯d fallen asleep in was still the same, surprisingly clean aside from the pile of discarded cardboard at the end.  He¡¯d used those broken boxes as a makeshift bed, piling some of the bigger ones on top of himself so he¡¯d be hidden from sight.  He was thankful it was still summer since he could sleep without too much fear of rain or cold, but still, it was hard.

    Pushing the last of the boxes off himself he climbed to his feet, his hands automatically gathering up the blanket, folding it and pushing it into the rucksack he held.  As he did so he mentally took stock of his situation, tallying up his physical condition along with his dwindling resources.

    His arm still hurt from the night before, though nowhere as badly as it had when he went to sleep.  Rolling up his sleeve he saw that an angry line of scabs ran across his upper arm, but there was no more blood, and the wound seemed to be closing well.  Aside from that, his body was stiff, but he felt more rested, the exhaustion of the night before dulled and driven back.  His head felt clearer, no longer fogged and aching.

    Of course, his situation wasn¡¯t all positive.  His body still reeked of unwashed sweat and grime.  The taste of unwashed and dirty teeth clogged his mouth, and his feet still ached from all the running and walking he¡¯d been forced to endure.  His clothing was just as grimy as the rest of him, stained and worn by days of hard living without rest.

    The only change of clothes he had was in the rucksack, and they were just as badly off.  Aside from that he had a bottle half filled with tap water, and assorted odds and ends that he¡¯d naively thought he¡¯d need when he ran from home.  Aside from that was the remains of his dwindling supply of money, money given to him when he had to run.  He tried to add it up in his head, trying to remember what he¡¯d spent it on, and how much he had left, as his eyes tracked down the source of the smell that had woken him up.

    As it turned out, a food stall had set up right next to where the mouth of the alley opened up onto the main road.  The owner had probably set it there hoping to catch the morning crowds as people rushed to work, giving them a chance to sell to those hurried latecomers who hadn¡¯t had a chance for a proper breakfast.  That didn¡¯t matter to the boy though, all he cared about were the meat patties that were sizzling on the metal grill alongside onions, bacon, and potato wedges.

    His stomach grumbled again, and his hand dug into his pocket, pulling out a few coins.  He didn¡¯t have too much to spare, but it was enough, or it should be.  The rest he needed to keep for later.

    Shouldering his bag, the boy slunk out of the alley, doing his best to avoid attracting any attention.  He took a minute to look at the board showing the stall prices.  He couldn¡¯t read much French, but burger and chips was easy enough to understand, as were the numbers next to it.  wordlessly he handed over his coins, pointing at what he wanted.  The man behind the stall, a tall thin man with greying hair, offered up a sympathetic smile, even as he couldn¡¯t keep his nose from scrunching up in disgust at the boy¡¯s smell.  The food was handed over in small tubs to make it easier to carry, along with a soda that he didn¡¯t have to pay for.  The boy offered up a grateful smile, then took off down the road as he waited for his purchases to cool down a bit.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    He didn¡¯t stay on the main road long though.  Instead, he took a side street, heading back to the docks.  He didn¡¯t go too far though.  Crowds meant safety, but some dangers could hide in those crowds, he couldn¡¯t afford to be too far from them, but he couldn¡¯t stay in them too long.  Resigned, he sat himself down in the shadow of an old warehouse, one all too similar to the ones where he¡¯d been attacked last night.  The sea was nearby though, and he could hear the lapping of the water against wood and concrete, a sound that soothed him as he bit into his food.

    Once upon a time, he might have complained about the lack of mayonnaise in the burger or the lack of ketchup on the chips, but hunger was the best spice of all.  Such things seemed trivial now, and the taste of meat and cheese was nothing short of divine to him.  Before long the burger was gone, quickly followed by the salted potato wedges and the sweet and sugary soda, and he was feeling much better.

    It was only then that he took time to stop and consider what he was going to do next.  When he¡¯d run from his home, he¡¯d thought he was embarking on some sort of adventure.  It had seemed so obvious to him at the time.  He was the hero, and he would do great things.  He knew he had power, and he knew he was special, so it all lined up in his head.  Such thoughts hadn¡¯t lasted long though, not when he was forced to sleep under hedges, shiver through summer showers in the night, or watch his money slowly fade away as he got further and further from home.

    Then came the hunters, and adventure became the last thing on his mind.  Now, he had to run, to hide, to just get away from the burning green eyes however he could.  He didn¡¯t know why they wanted him.  He didn¡¯t know where they would take him or what they would do to him.  He only knew that it would be bad, knew it in his guts!

    So, he ran, he hid, and, when he had no other choice, he fought.  He knew he couldn¡¯t keep it up forever, that sooner or later his luck would run out, but what other choice did he have?  Ending up in France had been an accident, him stowing away on the wrong ship.  It had bought him some time, but the hunters had found him again.  They kept finding him . . .

    ¡°Salut gamin! Qu¡¯est que tu fais-tu ici?¡±

    The voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a young man in dock worker clothes walking towards him.  The boy didn¡¯t understand the words, but the tone was easy enough to figure out.  There was concern there, some annoyance, maybe some kindness.  At another time he might have been happy to hear it, but right now . . .

    He didn¡¯t hesitate, he just took off as fast as he could.  Behind him, there was a shout of surprise, but he didn¡¯t pay it any attention.  The boy ducked into one of the many back alleys of the docks, using his smaller size to his advantage as he squeezed between a discarded fridge unit and a brick wall.  Behind him he heard curses in French, things he didn¡¯t need to understand to know that they probably shouldn¡¯t have been said where he could hear them.  They quickly faded though, as he put more distance between them, moving deeper into the maze of warehouses and sheds that made up the older part of the waterfront.

    As he ran, he grimaced.  It wasn¡¯t that he was ungrateful for those who tried to help him, it was just that their help caused more trouble than good.  He needed freedom to run away, and if the nice helpful people took him to the cops or social services all that would do was drag more people into his mess, and make it harder for him to get away.

    Being on his own was better, at least while he could.  What he¡¯d do when his money ran out . . . he didn¡¯t know.

    Slowing down he looked about himself, taking stock of where he was.  The warehouse he was next to looked like an old one, mould and rot clear on the wood, the glass fogged over by dirt and scratches, the metal showing signs of rust.  The sounds of the sea were closer here, so he guessed he was in the abandoned part of the dock.

    He could hide here for a little longer.  Long enough for that man to give up.  After that, he¡¯d have to move on.  These docks might be some distance from where he¡¯d been attacked before, but they were still too close for his liking.  He¡¯d need to open more space, and find somewhere else to hide.

    Then he could go back to trying to find some other demigods.

    The boy made his way deeper into the maze of old and broken buildings, half-heartedly making plans even as his tiredness began to catch up to him again.  Above him the sun continued to climb the sky, its heat hinting at the coming of another bright and warm day.  A day that cared nothing for the events that happened beneath its light.

 Chapter 3: Playing with my New Toys: Part One

    Chapter 3: Playing with my New Toys

    Joan dodged to the left, avoiding a stream of fire as it shot past her like a thrown lance.  It wasn¡¯t a move that any normal human flesh and blood could have hoped to pull off, but the French saint moved like a ghost, never stopping, never giving me a clear shot.  My following fork of lightning split the air, but again she wasn¡¯t where it was going!  Grimacing in concentration I gestured with my left hand, the ground just ahead of her sinking as soil and stone left it, rising up to form a ball the size of my head.  The instant it was formed I shot it at Joan, the ball of condensed earth moving as fast and deadly as any cannonball.

    In response she moved more gracefully than the most accomplished ballet dancer in the world could have dreamed of, combining a seemingly impossible tilt to the side with a folding of her legs.  For a moment she slid along the grass as though she were a performer on a stage, then she was past the projectile, her sword out, completing a movement I hadn¡¯t even been able to see.  Behind her the improvised missile fell apart, cut cleanly into quarters, the earth coming apart as the magic was also divided.

    My right arm moved, magic responded, and the very air around her condensed, dozens of square feet of atmosphere condensing down into a sphere the size of a basketball.  In only an instant the ball of thickened air had moved, going from where it had been to directly beside the resurrected soul.  Two thunderclaps rang out, one from where the ball had been, as air rushed in to fill the gap, the other directly on top of Joan, as I released the hold on the air globe, letting it spread out once more with the force of a hurricane.

    Light sparkled around her, a dome of refracted light marking the edges of the shield she used to protect herself as she kept coming, the air hammer battering uselessly against it.

    Both my hands closed into fists as the halo above my head let out a low hum.  Beneath me an oval centred on the saint. one the size of a large room, turned white with frost as I called on ice.  Heat bled from the oval, even as I forced the power of cold and winter into it.  Spears of ice formed, shooting up from the ground as though subterranean soldiers were stabbing pike up through the earth.  They were long, thin and clear, viciously pointed and more than enough to skewer an unwary victim.

    The cold didn¡¯t slow her down, the ice didn¡¯t disrupt her steps, and the spears of ice couldn¡¯t touch her, and those that tried to bar her path fell like wheat before her sword.

    My eyes narrowed, my fists opened, and then my hands came together, the fingers interlacing as though trying to capture something between them.  Beneath me fire erupted, dozens of small flowers of flame flaring into being around my protector, condensing down to tiny points, then bursting into a staccato roar of explosions that shook the ground, burnt the grass, and sent out shockwaves strong enough to shove me back a few feet.

    Then Joan came charging out of the fire and smoke, her armour still gleaming, more flickers of light tracing across it as she kept going!

    All I could do was stare in awe as she kept closing in on me, though some small part of me was petulantly shouting that this just wasn¡¯t fair.  That had been the hardest I¡¯d ever hit her before, and she just shrugged it off?!  I wasn¡¯t sure just how strong that fire explosion had been, but I was willing to bet that it could have brought a house down.  And Joan just kept on going?

    Just how much had she been holding back in our sparring sessions before?

    Desperately I sent myself backwards, flying away in an attempt to widen the shrinking distance between us!

    ¡°Allons!¡± The blonde saint yelled as she leapt into the air, covering the distance separating us with shocking speed. ¡°Is that all that you have?!¡±

    I was barely able to get a shield up in time to block the sword that came swinging at me, the arcana-based protection cracking even as it managed to deflect the strike.  Another moment and I¡¯d firmed up the shield, repairing it just in time to catch the second strike, then frantically working to get it ready for the next one.  In the space of only three seconds my defences were repaired, nearly shattered, then repaired again almost half a dozen times!  Then gravity regained its hold on Joan, and she fell to the earth, landing gracefully, then kicking off in a shower of loose dirt as she shot away like a rocket.

    For my part, I was just trying to pull myself back together, barely able to keep up with the blisteringly fast pace that she was setting.

    ¡°Trop lent!¡±

    The shouted French words were the only warning I got before a trio of rocks the size of footballs slammed into my shield one after another, each of them moving as though just launched from a catapult.  I spun in place, trying to keep track of the resurrected saint even as I tried to understand how she¡¯d been able to find and throw such stones so easily.  My frantically searching eyes darted around, only to find her from the light she was giving off.  I only had an instant to take in the sphere of blazing golden yellow energy held between her hands for a moment, then my vision turned white as she released it!

    My shield held for a moment, then shattered inwards under the strain, the beam punching through and hitting me like a runaway truck!  The white turned to black for a moment as I felt the air being driven from my lungs, and then the black broke into painful shards of a blurred and swimming world as I hit the ground.  It was a harsh impact, hard enough to shake my bones and let me know I was going to be one big bruise soon.  Shakely, I tried to sit up, my wings dragging at me as I struggled to remember how to move them.

    Then I felt something cold and hard at my throat, and my vision cleared enough to see the sword blade laid against my neck.

    ¡°And now you are dead.¡±

    We stayed like that for a moment, and I briefly considered using telekinesis to throw her away but dismissed it.  In the past, I¡¯d only been able to use my Arcana-based TK on her when I caught her off guard and she hadn¡¯t been able to defend against it.  As things stood, I doubted that she was leaving herself so vulnerable.   Most likely she was braced and ready to shake off any attempt to send her flying or otherwise attack her.  She had me dead to rights, plain and simple.

    Sighing I let my arms flop down at my side, a clear indication that I had accepted my loss.  Joan stared down at me for a moment, then sheathed her sword and stepped back.  Magic let me float up onto my feet again, my wings fluffing slightly as they tried to shake off the soil clinging to them.  It was an odd sensation; one I still wasn¡¯t used to yet.

    ¡°A worthy effort,¡± The French saint commented, offering me an approving nod as she stepped back, the steel of her sword withdrawing from my neck as she did so. ¡°You are correct that your power has grown.  Your control and speed have also vastly improved.¡±

    ¡°Not enough though.¡±

    I tried very hard not to whine or grumble, but I could hear some of my frustration seeping through.  It wasn¡¯t resentment, I knew that Joan was just giving me the best training she could.  Instead, it was more internally directed.  I¡¯d really thought that I¡¯d have been able to do better.  Etienne had been so huge, so monstrous, so unstoppable, but in the end, I¡¯d been able to stalemate him.  Sure, I hadn¡¯t beaten him, but I¡¯d brought him to a halt, bound him in place.  His monster . . . I could only imagine the sort of damage it could have done if it got into a town or city.

    After taking on something like that I thought I¡®d be able to make a better showing against my trainer.  I hadn¡¯t thought to win, but I had thought to drive her back, make her work for it.  Maybe even make her resort to her angelic transformation to beat me.  Instead, she¡¯d just rushed through my attacks, dodging or enduring them with almost casual ease, all while still just in her human form.  It brought home just how much she¡¯d been holding back in our previous matches.  Back then, when she¡¯d been caught by my sand trap, how easy had she been taking it on me?

    ¡°It was closer than you might believe,¡± She assured me, her face serious. ¡°If your power continues to grow at a consistent rate then it shall not be long before even honoured Hadriel will need to grow cautious.¡±

    Her words made me feel a bit better. I was about to ask for more feedback when the sound of clapping interrupted.  Looking back towards the farmhouse I saw two tall figures walking towards us.  Athena was as stately as ever, a vision of dignified beauty.  Kali, on the other hand, was less well-groomed.  To be sure, she still appeared as gorgeous as before, but her clothes had a rumpled look to them, and she had some of the worst bed hair I¡¯d ever come across.  It said something about the nature of divine beauty that despite this she was still able to pull off the whole ¡®sex on legs¡¯ look.

    Kali had been the one who was clapping, a wide grin on her face as she did so, and her voice sounded out as she drew nearer.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll admit it.  That was pretty fun to watch!¡± She gestured to the scene of our short bout, taking in the scorched, frozen and cratered soil. ¡°That was a whole bunch of elements you were throwing around there, so I¡¯m guessing that you¡¯ve got plenty of diversity to work with, right?¡±

    ¡°That much is certainly clear,¡± Athena commented, her expression considering. ¡°Your diversity is considerable, but you may require further training in how best to leverage it against a foe.¡±

    ¡°The majority of Adam¡¯s training has thus far been in control and power,¡± Joan explained, offering a nod of respect to the goddesses as they drew closer. ¡°Though he has been learning to use the magic he has in combat he has yet to begin any rigorous combat training in how best to wield it.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    I was honestly surprised to hear that, and I couldn¡¯t keep the question from popping out.  What Joan had said just didn¡¯t make sense.  There¡¯d been training, lots of training!  I had the memories of angry bruises and broken bones to back it up!

    Seeing all eyes turn on me I decided to keep going.

    ¡°Sorry, but what do you mean?  What about all that sparring?  All those times you and Hadriel came at me with swords?  Wasn¡¯t that combat training?¡±

    ¡°Adam,¡± Joan held up a hand in a gesture to ward off further questions. ¡°Do not misunderstand me.  That was training.  Important training.  However, it was focused upon letting you learn how to access and manipulate your magic in the heat of battle, not on how that magic should be best used as a weapon.¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°But . . . why?¡±  I was genuinely confused, unsure as to why she wouldn¡¯t have begun with something so important.  Just yesterday I¡¯d been fighting for my life, shouldn¡¯t I have been as prepared as I could have managed?

    ¡°Adam, you have only had your magic for a short time.¡± Her voice was firm but not harsh. ¡°Your progress has been commendable, but you lack the instinctive grasp upon your power that other demigods enjoy.  Your development has been akin to teaching the art of the sword to a man whose hands were cut off at birth, but who has now been completely healed.  Before I can teach you the sword forms that will build your skills, I must first teach you how to grasp the blade and not lose your grip upon it when your attention slips.¡±

    Okay, I could see where she was coming from.  I couldn¡¯t say that I liked it, but I could understand it.  All that sparring was meant as pressure to teach me how to access magic even when I was being attacked and harried.  I supposed that I could thank that training for my survival since without it I would have faltered and lost in the face of Etienne¡¯s monster.

    ¡°Okay, so when will I be ready for real training then?¡±

    ¡°I believe it should be soon.¡±

    The voice came from my side, startling me enough to make me spin in place, my wings catching the air and making me stumble as I used my muscles again, rather than my magic.  As I caught my balance, I saw the red-winged form of Hadriel hovering only a foot off the ground, her arms folded under her breasts as she looked at me.  Under most circumstances, the pose might have been sexy, but the stern way that the angel was looking at me made it perfectly clear that any appeal on her part was due to my male mind, not any effort of hers.  Instead, she looked at me as she normally did, evaluating, and judging, making me feel more like material to be worked into something useful than a person.

    ¡°With this increase in power, we can begin your education in how to take advantage of such things as elemental affinities and domain weaknesses.  We may also begin to work with higher powers than simple manipulation of worldly elements.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the fun stuff.¡±

    The grin on Kali¡¯s face would not have looked out of place on a shark that had just spotted a wounded fatted calf paddling in the ocean.

    ¡°Let me know if the kid ever shows any talent for Destruction, I¡¯d be happy to give him some pointers if he does.¡±

    ¡°I think it unlikely that such will be the case,¡± Athena commented, her eyes moving from me to the other goddess and back again. ¡°His lineage is powerful, but such powers are rare for demigods to inherit.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s descended from Shiva though,¡± The dark-haired goddess replied, her grin still on her face. ¡°How likely do you think it is that a Legacy of the Great Destroyer will have access to Destruction?¡±

    The Greek goddess didn¡¯t answer, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at me once more.

    ¡°Errr . . . quick question.  What d¡¯you mean by ¡®Destruction¡¯?¡±

    I could practically hear the capitalization of the word, so I was guessing they weren¡¯t talking about a talent for breaking things.

    ¡°It refers to one of the highest powers that gods or demigods sometimes possess,¡± Joan explained. ¡°There are the elements of the world, things like fire, ice and stone.  Then there are less tangible aspects, minds, souls, and life force.  Then there are the greater building blocks of existence such as space and time.  Above them are such powers as Creation and Destruction, the powers that normally only belong to gods of great power.  Such powers are prized, but they are also feared.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, Shiva has some real power at his beck and call, but he doesn¡¯t use it all that often,¡± Kali commented. ¡°As his Legacy, there¡¯s a chance you might have gotten some of it.  of course, there¡¯re other things you might have gotten.  Strength, shapeshifting, wish granting, there¡¯re plenty of options.¡±

    ¡°Okay . . .¡± again I tried to scour my mind for any forgotten tidbits on Shiva, but again I came up blank.  Still, my curiosity demanded answers. ¡°So, what is Destruction?¡±

    ¡°It is a feared power,¡± Athena explained, stepping forward. ¡°One that represents the conceptual destruction of a target, a destruction that goes well beyond the simple breaking of its form.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Destruction is a power that does not simply involve the fragmentation of the target¡¯s composition,¡± She explained. ¡°It also holds dominion over death, decay, anti-life, even the abyss that consumes all.  Destruction is-¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± Kali cut the other goddess off as she raised one hand and pointed off to the field away from the farmhouse. ¡°Why don¡¯t I just show him?¡±

    She was still smiling, but at that moment it wasn¡¯t a pleasant smile.  It was still as beautiful as before, but now there was something wild and savage about it.  I could see shock crossing the features of Joan and Hadriel, but before either of them could say a thing Kali . . .

    Saying that she shot something at the empty field wasn¡¯t the right way to describe it.  Using that word would imply that it was something that she¡¯d pushed there, that she projected.  What happened . . . it originated from the Hindu goddess¡¯s hand, but it wasn¡¯t sent out.  It was something that was released, something aimed and then unleashed.

    As for what it was . . . that was harder to grasp.  It wasn¡¯t so much that there wasn¡¯t anything to see, as it was that what I could see didn¡¯t make sense.  There was an impression of blackness, as though what I¡¯d seen should have been black, and then there were edges of something else around it that made me think of dark reds and violets.  The thing was that all of that was just a . . . a hint, an impression.  What I actually saw was like a heat distortion mixed with an image fragmenting like a broken mirror or something seen through a kaleidoscope.  There were no colours, but at the same time there was a feeling that colours should have been there, that they were there, but I wasn¡¯t able to see them properly.

    It was brief, as the . . . whatever it was darted out of the outstretched hand and towards the open field in the space of a second, but it was enough to make my head hurt.  What followed was far easier to see, but no less terrifying.

    A massive explosion of power erupted at the spot where the distortion had touched, but it wasn¡¯t like any explosion I¡¯d ever seen, be it fireworks, bonfires, or special effects on a screen.  The mass of angry, and clearly purple and red, energy resembled a combination of fire and lightning, but it moved oddly slowly.  Sure, it was fast, growing from the size of a pinprick to a house in only a second or so, but it wasn¡¯t the blinding speed I would have expected from raw unleashed energy.  Instead, there was something slow about it, as though the power making it up was somehow ponderous.  But what it lacked in speed it made up for in something else.

    The half-sphere of roiling power was visibly turning anti-clockwise at a slow pace. However, it was at the edges that I could feel what was happening.  My magic was now always available to me at some level, even when I completely let it go I had a sort of background awareness of the elements around me, enough to know what they were and how available they were for me to use.  I could feel the earth, the air, even the light around me in much the same way a normal person could feel just how even the ground beneath them was.  Most of the time it was something you did without thinking about it, but then something would change and you¡¯d become more aware of it due to that change.

    At that moment, as I watched the angry mass of power grow, I could feel the elements within it being torn apart!  No, not torn, that would have implied that there was something left behind.  It was more like I could feel them vanishing from my senses.  But it wasn¡¯t as though they were just popping out of existence.  As I focused in on the feeling more and more, trying to understand it, there was a sensation of . . . grinding, tearing, clashing.  It was as though the power Kali had unleashed was ripping at everything it came into contact with and carrying on that assault until the opposing force was shredded from existence, the component parts fading away as they came free.

    Destruction, that was the only way I could think of it, pure and total obliteration.

    Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the half-sphere of energy faded away.  In its wake, it left a deep crater, one that showed that the force hadn¡¯t stopped when it reached the earth but had extended its destruction downwards.  The destruction wasn¡¯t smooth though, it might have been better if it had been.  Instead, the edges were ragged, with crumbling protrusions that seemed to continue to splinter and break as I watched.  The final crater was huge, big enough to fit most of a house in it, and it had taken barely seconds to carve it out.

    ¡°And that¡¯s Destruction,¡± Kali said, breaking the silence that had fallen on our small group as we all stared at the crater. ¡°Get why it¡¯s a big deal?¡±

    I just nodded, my voice mute as my eyes remained rooted to the sight of the terrifying power.  Yes, I could have made a similar crater with my power, but it would have taken me time to build up the energy, and even my best efforts wouldn¡¯t have been so absolute.  Fire burned, ice froze, lightning electrocuted, and wind hit, but those were all elemental forces, things of the world.  This destruction . . . it destroyed.  More than that, it wanted to destroy.  I didn¡¯t know how I knew it, but the same sense that let me tell the colours of magic and use them, also told me that it didn¡¯t just destroy because of its nature, it had something akin to a will driving it on.

    ¡°Cool.  Maybe you¡¯ll be able to do that one day.  Don¡¯t get your hopes up too much though.  Miss Greecey here¡¯s right, it is a pretty rare power for a demigod to have.¡±

    Under other circumstances, the face Athena made at being referred to as ¡®Greecey¡¯, which sounded way too much like greasy, would have been funny.  It was a strange combination of affronted dignity and perplexed bafflement, as though unable to decide just how to take it.  However, my mind was still full of impossible destruction that violated the principles of science that I¡¯d grown up with my entire life.

    Matter and energy couldn¡¯t be created or destroyed; it was a simple lesson that I¡¯d learnt when I was about twelve.  Science might not have been my strongest subject, but the idea that the essential building blocks of the universe couldn¡¯t appear and disappear, only change state, had always stuck with me.  Here I¡¯d seen that supposedly rock-solid law of the universe metaphorically being bent over and spanked by the power of a goddess.  I¡¯d felt it as matter was shredded from existence, I knew it with grim certainty.

    It shouldn¡¯t have affected me as much as it did, after all, I lived with a saint and an angel, I could fly, and I could make the elements dance to my will.  But seeing something like this, something that so casually and blatantly violated a fact I¡¯d accepted as true and immutable . . . it brought home just how different my world was from just one year ago.

    ¡°Is . . . is there another one?  Something that creates?¡±

    It seemed important.  If there was this power that just destroyed things, that just erased them from existence, then wouldn¡¯t there have to be something that made up for loss?  There had to be some sort of balance in the universe, right?

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Athena spoke before Kali, giving her a warning glance before turning back to me. ¡°Creation is the counterpart to Destruction and is held in perhaps even higher regard, given that it is the power that spun all that is into being.  It is the power to create from nothing, to bring materials, energies, life, and even powers into existence without any source.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a cheat code is what it is.¡±

    Kali muttered her comment, but I still managed to hear her.  It struck me how she was a strange fusion of divine power and beauty with familiar human quirks.  That bit about the cheat code, that was the sort of thing I could see Doug saying, not a goddess of violence and destruction.  It made me wonder just how much time she¡¯d spent as a mortal, and how recently that had been.

    The Greek goddess didn¡¯t deign to respond to the other deity¡¯s comment, instead, she simply continued.

    ¡°There are many levels of potency in such a power, of course, and it is not limited to the simple creation of new resources.  It also allows the wielder to command and manipulate what already exists, to alter and mould it further.  The powers of Creation are many and potent, a prize for those that hold it.¡±

    I nodded, thankful for the short lesson, and once more reminded of how little I really knew.  There was so much to learn.

    ¡°I think that such topics are for a later time though,¡± Athena continued. ¡°Last night we were unable to adequately discuss the situation.  Now that you are rested and recovered it would be best to continue in some more detail.  I also need to educate you in the use of the gifts that were given to you, since I doubt you are educated in how to don Grecian armour.  There is also the matter of the properties that you now own.  It would be remiss of me not to fully inform you as to the details of your new assets.¡±

    The change in subject caught me by surprise, but I had to admit that she had a point.

    ¡°Okay.  How about I take a shower and get a change of clothes, then we can get to it?¡±

    Joan might not have been too hard on me, but after she broke my shield and slammed me to the ground I had plenty of dirt and torn-up grass on my clothes and in my hair.  Not the look I wanted while being taught by someone like Athena.

    ¡°Very well, unless your other mentors have anything that would demand greater priority?¡±

    She looked around at that, but Joan, Hadriel and Kali shook their heads.

    ¡°There is nothing that cannot wait,¡± The angel state, inclining her head to the goddess slightly. ¡°As you say, it would be best if Adam took some time to familiarise himself with his gifts.  Their use should be made a part of his training.¡±

    The resurrected saint nodded her agreement, and the Hindu goddess grinned as she did likewise.

    ¡°Yeah, let him check out his new toys.  Stuff like that¡¯s one of the perks that comes with being a demigod, so better enjoy it before the headaches start piling up.¡±

    As I followed Athena into the farmhouse, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if my already complicated life was going to get even more tangled.

 Chapter 3: Playing with my New Toys: Part Two

    Chapter 3: Playing with my New Toys: Part Two

    She was through!

    Emma had to bite on her lip to keep a cry of triumph from giving away her position.  She didn¡¯t know if anyone was acting as a sentry, or if there were spells that monitored the area, but she knew better than to push her luck.

    It had been some time since her tiny filament of a spell had completed her infiltration of the Hallowed Sanctuary, and for the last hour or so she¡¯d been eavesdropping everywhere she could.  She¡¯d heard some of Adam¡¯s conversation with the Saint, she¡¯d witnessed their short sparring match, she¡¯d even heard the words of the goddesses and seen Kali¡¯s display of power.  She felt she had more of a grasp on what was going on in the Sanctuary now, but that knowledge hadn¡¯t changed her plans.

    It had been necessary to infiltrate the Sanctuary once more.  She needed to talk to Adam, not only to warn him about the early failure of the Sanctuary but also to let him have her own insights on his new companions.  The idiot was already starting to make mistakes, and he needed to know it!

    So, she had once again been patiently working her craft for hours, slowly using the path of her infiltration to prepare a passage through which she could transport herself into the Sanctuary, without alerting anyone.  She was well aware of what would happen if she failed if she brought the spell¡¯s defences down upon her.  She might survive, but even if she did then all her concealing magic would be stripped from her, leaving her exposed for the first time in centuries.  At that point . . . well, she wasn¡¯t honestly sure what the results would be, but at the very least the angel and goddesses present would try to kill her.

    Caution and patience, they had been her guiding virtues since before the Roman Empire fell, she had to hold onto them for just a little longer.

    Still, the task before her hadn¡¯t required her full attention, only her careful restraint.  That meant that her mind could wander a bit, and she found her thoughts drifting back to what she had seen of Adam¡¯s brief spar with the resurrected saint.

    The sheer diversity of power that he¡¯d shown had been heartening.  She¡¯d known he would be powerful, with an Awakening like his how could he be otherwise, but his lack of intuitive understanding of how to access that power had worried her.  Emma had done what she could in teaching him how to spark his magic into life, but some part of her had been afraid that it wouldn¡¯t be enough, that he¡¯d been crippled by the attack on his Awakening.  His mastery of various elements as well as Arcana had been heartening, an affirmation that he was growing in power.

    Still, she knew it wouldn¡¯t be enough, not with what she suspected was coming.

    He had time, that was his main advantage.  What she feared might be enormous, but it took time to gather momentum.  She just hoped would be enough time for him to grow into his full strength.

    Her musings had been interrupted by a sensation at the very edge of her senses.  Under other circumstances, she might have missed it, but in her present state of alertness her senses were tuned to even the slightest change.  The tickle of energy she had felt at the perimeter of her awareness was distinctive though, distinctive and intriguing.

    Turning her focus upon the mote of power, she paused to get an idea of its location.  It wasn¡¯t far, on the opposite side of the farmhouse to where the small group was making their way.  Other powers lingered in the area, traces of infernal and celestial, as well as more earthly forces, all were faint though, mere remnants of a struggle.  What she sought was more vital, even if it was faint.

    Her brow had creased above her closed eyes.  The power she was trying to find seemed to be attached to another power, a larger one.  Yet even though she could sense this larger power she couldn¡¯t determine its nature or location.  It was like seeing an invisible hulk in the midst of thick coloured mist, she could see it by what it displaced, and then only enough for a vague idea of its size and shape.

    She didn¡¯t like this, not one but two unexpected factors hiding so near to Adam.  She could tell that they were hiding successfully from those in the farmhouse.  Neither the angel nor the saint would have tolerated such forces so close to their charge, not hidden as they were.  The divine agents would have dragged the forces into a more visible state if they knew of them, if not destroyed them outright.

    The only saving grace seemed to be that both powers were dormant, unmoving.  If they stayed that way, then it would give her some time to deal with them.  Focusing further she had tried to get a better idea of the one she could sense.  It was smaller, but at least she could get a better idea of what it was.

    Potent, that she was sure of.  The remaining mote that she could sense was small, but it was strong.  The power felt golden to her, not so much in colour, but rather in quality.  It felt rich, pure, shining, and precious, yet for all that she could not fully identify it.  Still, it seemed to be content where it was, simply sitting in place.

    With a quiet sigh, Emma had drawn her attention away from the dormant powers and back to her earlier cautious advancement.  From then on she¡¯d focused harder, refusing to allow herself to be further distracted.

    Now she was through though, the path she needed to physically enter the sanctuary ready for her.  She just had to find the right time, when Adam was alone, and make sure that she didn¡¯t do anything to alert the other occupants of the farmhouse.

    She just needed the right moment.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Yes . . . tighten that strap and you shall have it locked in place.¡±

    Following Athena¡¯s instructions, I pulled the leather strap, feeling the supple but strong leather slide through a concealed buckle.  I felt it tighten, holding in place and bringing the breastplate flush against my chest.  It felt . . . right, comfortable, really comfortable.  I¡¯d expected it to be heavy, and cumbersome.  Instead, it was as though I wasn¡¯t actually wearing anything at all.  I could feel it on me, but at the same time, it was as though I was just wearing my normal stuff.  Even better, the armour had seemed to have been altered to allow for my wings, overlapping plates sliding in such a cunning way that the backplate allowed them full freedom of motion without compromising much on protection.

    ¡°Good, there is no hint of rejection.  It would seem that Achilles¡¯s treasure has no objection to your use of it.¡±

    The Greek goddess¡¯s calm words caused me to look up in alarm, the implications of what she¡¯d said unsettling, to say the least.

    ¡°Wait!  Is this thing alive?!¡±

    The thought that I was somehow wearing a living thing, something that could approve or disapprove of me, felt . . . slimy, as though I were unwittingly taking part in the use of a slave.

    ¡°Nothing so sophisticated,¡± Athena assured me; her tone dismissive as she gestured at me. ¡°The breastplate is an object of power worn by one who wrote their name into history with their deeds, one that was a being of power in their own right.  Such close contact leaves an imprint upon the power within the armour, a shade, a memory.  There is no true consciousness, no active mind or thoughts.  There is only raw emotion, such things as a desire for revenge or a disgust of cowardice.

    ¡°The imprint can feel the remnants of your own emotions lingering in your aura and then feel if they are compatible.  If there were some conflict, if you were some sort of craven or shamelessly dishonourable, then the remnant upon the armour would reject you.  Achilles was a proud warrior and would not stand for his arms and armour to fall to the unworthy while alive.  In death, his imprint upon them follows his wishes.¡±

    Was that meant to make me feel better?  Because if Athena really thought so then I might have to reconsider how accurate her title as ¡®Goddess of Wisdom¡¯ actually was.

    ¡°So . . . it¡¯s haunted?  I¡¯m wearing a haunted breastplate?¡±

    A tiny flicker of irritation crossed her face but was quickly gone.

    ¡°No.  No spirit or soul is inhabiting the armour.  It is simply a remnant, an impression of power, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I glanced down at the dark metal covering my torso. ¡°What would have happened if it didn¡¯t approve of me?¡±

    ¡°In the simplest cases it would have merely felt uncomfortable,¡± Athena explained. ¡°It would have grown less comfortable until you had to take the armour off.  If there was a greater rejection, if you were one that Achilles would have strongly opposed, then it would have felt as though the armour had grown red hot.  You would have suffered agony and burns until you removed it.¡±

    She paused, her face taking on a chilling smile before continuing.

    ¡°Had you been one that Achilles hated, such as a reborn Paris or Hector, then it would have been worse.  The armour would not have rejected you, instead it would have cursed you.  It would have betrayed you in battle, a strap coming loose at the worst time, a blade slipping into your side rather than being turned aside.  It would have done all it could in order to bring you to death and ruin.¡±

    The earlier feeling of sliminess was completely gone now, but instead, I felt as though I had a couple of sticks of dynamite strapped to my chest.  My concern must have been obvious.

    ¡°Do not be afraid.  There is no rejection, as I have said.  The armour does not hold ill intentions to you, and it shall serve you well.¡±

    Pausing, she turned to Hadriel, who was standing quietly to one side, and gestured for her to come forward.

    ¡°Honoured angel, please strike him upon the plate.  I do not ask for your strongest blow, but enough that it would harm him under normal circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Hey!  Hang on a sec . . .¡±

    ¡°It is my duty to guard him, not to harm him.¡±

    A frown crossed the crimson-winged angel¡¯s face as her arms unfolded, looking at the goddess and ignoring my own protests.

    ¡°And I would not ask you to,¡± Athena assured her. ¡°I merely seek to illustrate the value of the gift given to him.  Should he be harmed I shall take full responsibility, and the returned mortal is skilled enough in healing to repair any damage, should the armour fail.¡±

    ¡°I just want to say I¡¯m not too comfortable with . . .¡± I tried again, only for Hadriel to talk over me again.

    ¡°Very well.  I shall concede that it is best to test the mettle of your gift here in safety rather than upon the battlefield.¡±

    She turned to me, and I¡¯ll admit that the look in her eyes did not inspire me with too much confidence.

    ¡°Hey!  Wait!  Are you serious?¡±

    I was getting confused and concerned, so when Joan spoke up, her first words were like seeing a light in a dark tunnel.

    ¡°Please, Lady Athena, honoured Hadriel, hold for a moment.  You need to reconsider!¡±

    My heart lifted at her words . . . only to plummet as she continued.

    ¡°Such a test cannot be conducted within this house, not if we wish to avoid damaging it.  If we wish to truly test the strength of the armour, then we should do so outside.¡±

    My guiding light had been revealed to be an oncoming train, and I couldn¡¯t help but stare at Joan feeling shocked and betrayed.  In response, she turned and grinned at me, a mischievous expression that caught me so completely by surprise that I missed Athena¡¯s response.  The next thing I knew the angel and the goddess were stepping out of the back door and out onto the fields behind the farmhouse, leaving me with the resurrected soul and Kali.

    ¡°Oh, this looks like it¡¯s gonna be fun!¡±

    The goddess of destruction offered me a predatory grin, before turning and following after her fellow immortals.  For a moment all I could do was gape after them, then I felt a gentle pressure on my arm.  Turning I saw Joan standing next to me, her smile now more kind than mischievous.

    ¡°My apologies for my small jest, Adam.  I am afraid the look you gave me would allow no other response.¡±

    I just stared at her, unable to believe that she was . . . teasing me?  Joan usually came across as so earnest, so dedicated, so serious.  Despite my surprise, I could feel a smile tugging at my lips as I looked at her.  She beamed back, and I could feel my earlier concern melt away.

    ¡°Do not be too concerned, Adam.¡± She advised. ¡°Despite her . . . militant attitude honoured Hadriel would never place you in danger.  This test is necessary to determine the reliability of your armour.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I get that.¡± I agreed as I walked out of the door with her. ¡°But do I have to be wearing it when it gets tested?¡±

    ¡°Do you truly believe we could test it simply by wrapping it about a wooden post?¡± the French saint chided me. ¡°For it to show its greatest strength it must be worn by one with power of their own.  It draws upon you to awaken its own power, then feeds it back to you, the two of you stronger together than apart.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to enjoy this, am I?¡±

    I gave up protesting, well aware that I couldn¡¯t really argue.  I¡¯d just have to think of it as training. Learning to tank a hit when I had to.

    ¡°Do not be too concerned, Adam,¡± Joan assured me as we walked over the grass towards the waiting goddesses and the angel. ¡°Should the worst come to pass I can heal you, but I think it shall be unnecessary.  Honoured Hadriel is well versed upon the limits of her own strength, and I doubt she will be careless in her tests.  You may receive some bruises and scrapes, but I doubt she will inflict any sort of true harm.¡±

    Glancing down at my torso I took in the finely worked dark metal and felt the ease with which it hugged my form without disturbing or restraining me.  It was more like another shirt than it was armour, there was something comforting to it.  I felt a trickle of confidence start to find its way through my nervousness, enough to let me bury my trepidation.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I declared as I drew close to the small group of immortals. ¡°Let¡¯s get this done.  What do y-¡±

    I didn¡¯t get to finish my sentence.  Instead, I was cut off mid-word as Hadriel¡¯s fist impacted me on the middle of my chest just below my ribcage.

    I¡¯d been hit harder before, I¡¯d also been taken by surprise before, but that didn¡¯t detract from the unexpected force of the blow.  My vision spun as I was thrown off my feet and sent sailing through the air, my wings wildly flailing as I tried to stabilize myself.  Then I was hitting the ground, and the all too familiar feeling of dirt and gravel grinding beneath me was running through me.

    For a moment I just lay there, trying to get my wits back together, then I used my magic to lift myself up, dusting myself off as I rose.

    ¡°Hey, you could at least have given me a chance to get ready!¡±

    I couldn¡¯t keep the irritation from my voice as I looked at the red-winged angel.  For her part Hadriel seemed completely unashamed, merely meeting my gaze with a calm look of her own.

    ¡°Do you think that your enemies will be so polite as to announce themselves before they attack you?¡± The angel asked as she observed me. ¡°It was best to test the armour while you were unprepared so that the merits of the Olympian¡¯s gift could be seen on their own.  And I would say the test has been fruitful.¡±

    A small smile touched her lips as I blinked at her.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You are unharmed, are you not?  I would say that Achilles¡¯s breastplate has shown itself not to be fragile.¡±

    I realised I wasn¡¯t in pain, nor had the breath been knocked out of me.  I might have been sent flying and disoriented by the sudden impacts of the blow and the earth, but the only pain I felt was in my arms and legs from the impact.  My chest, the spot that should have been screaming and turning purple, felt just fine.  There was no tingle of numbness, nothing that suggested I¡¯d be in for the pain later, the armour seemed to have completely soaked up the blow.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    For a moment I just hung there, staring down at the dark metal of the breastplate in surprise. Sure, she hadn¡¯t hit me as hard as she could, but it hadn¡¯t been a gentle tap either.  She¡¯d sent me flying, but hadn¡¯t hurt me . . .

    ¡°Okay,¡± I nodded, bracing myself. ¡°Hit me again, please.  Harder this time.¡±

    For a moment I thought I saw a gleam in the angel¡¯s eyes, and I started to wonder if, somehow, I¡¯d insulted her without meaning to.  Such considerations were cut off as she hit me again, this time in the middle of my sternum, and quite a bit harder than before.

    This time I saw it coming though and had a chance to brace myself with my magic.  The impact still sent me stumbling back, but at least I wasn¡¯t sent flying.  Again, the breastplate absorbed the strike, though this time I did feel a bit of pain at my shoulders and hips where the impact drove the armour into me.  It wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as taking the blow unprotected would have been, but it was a reminder that the gift wasn¡¯t making me invulnerable.

    ¡°How . . . how hard was that hit.¡±

    My dry throat made the question stumble a bit, but I was genuinely curious.  I knew how strong Hadriel was from our sparring matches.  I¡¯d sent stones at her in the past, baseball-sized things thrown with my telekinesis, but she¡¯d shattered them with her bare hands easily enough.  Had that been the sort of strength she¡¯d just used?

    ¡°It was not my strongest blow,¡± She declared, causing my spirits to drop a little. ¡°But it was close.  I believe it is a truth to say that this armour shall serve you well in the future.¡±

    That brought my spirit back up, especially as I looked down at the breastplate and noted that it covered my navel.  Okay, I couldn¡¯t really argue with that.  Having possibly invulnerable armour defending my weak spot couldn¡¯t be anything but a good thing.

    ¡°I think that a final test is in order though.¡±

    I looked up . . .  and found Hadriel holding one of those oversized swords of hers.  I think my thoughts went something along the lines of ¡®Oh, come on¡¯, but were cut off as the sword swung at me, and I was once more taken off my feet.

    This time my flight magic wasn¡¯t enough to keep me in place, and the armour wasn¡¯t able to completely protect me.  It didn¡¯t break, it weathered the blow, but it could not absorb the force of the sword strike as it had the previous blows.  Again, I felt the pain at my shoulders and waist, a sharper pain than before as the rims of the armour dug into my muscles.  My breath escaped me in an explosive huff as the breastplate was forced against my chest, driving the air from my lungs.

    Still, I managed to keep my senses, landing on my feet rather than in a sprawl.  To be sure, I was unsteady and was gasping to get my breath back, but if this had been a fight I could have at least defended myself.  Hadriel gave me a small nod of approval as I walked back to them, her sword having vanished into her bracelet once more.

    ¡°Again, lady Athena¡¯s gift has held up well.  Despite my use of my sword the breastplate is not even scratched, truly a worthy creation on the part of Hephaestus.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°But it looks like I¡¯ve still got to worry about getting hit.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± The angel¡¯s tone was calm but firm, reminding me way too much of one of my primary school teachers. ¡°Though the metal you wear is a marvel, the flesh beneath it remains vulnerable.  Do not think yourself invincible by wearing it.  Also, remember that it does not cover all of you.  It protects from attacks upon your central organs, but your head and neck are still vulnerable, as are your limbs.¡±

    I noted that she hadn¡¯t made any mention of my weak spot, even though the armour covering it was an important point.  That made sense I supposed.  Kali and Athena had only been here a few hours, hardly enough time to build up enough trust to let them in on those kinds of secrets. So I tapped on the armour, offering a grin as I did so.

    ¡°Gotcha.  Still, anything that can guard most of my vitals the way this does is something that I¡¯m going to be wearing as much as I can.  It¡¯s a bit of a weird fashion choice, but I think I can make it work.¡±

    I said it as a joke, but even as I did I realized there was a certain truth to my words.  Despite it being armour the breastplate and backplate were surprisingly close-fitting.  If it came to it, I could probably wear a coat or jacket over it.  Of course, I still needed to find any I could wear with my wings.  I¡¯d either have to get much better with my TK or I¡¯d have to find an adaptable tailor.

    ¡°Well, now that we have seen the worth of the armour, shall we see what the helm can do?¡±

    The question was asked by Joan, who was holding the Greek-style helmet that Athena had given me.  I¡¯d thought it had been left in the study when we came out, but maybe I¡¯d been too preoccupied with my upcoming . . . test to notice her taking it with her when we left.

    ¡°It may not be as famed a treasure as the armour of one of Greece¡¯s greatest heroes, but I am certain that you can see how it will be useful,¡± Athena commented as she stepped closer, taking the helm from Joan and holding it out to me.

    ¡°Yeah, you said that Hades put a bit of his own helm into it.  I get that that¡¯s important, but can you tell me why?¡±

    A tiny frown marred the goddess¡¯s features for a moment.

    ¡°During the Titanomachy, the great war the Olympians fought against their titan predecessors, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were all given treasures forged by the freshly freed cyclopes.  These treasures joined with them, with their divine power, becoming potent foci for them to use.  My father was gifted his lightning bolts, possibly the most potent offensive weapons in my entire pantheon.  Poseidon was given his trident, a weapon that could inflict wounds that even a god would fear and that in time came to enhance his reign over the oceans.

    ¡°By contrast my eldest uncle didn¡¯t receive a weapon, instead he was gift a helm, or perhaps it could be best thought of as a crown.  The Helm of Darkness did not simply make him invisible, it made him a part of darkness itself, a being that could not be seen or touched, but which could see and touch those he wished.  It was he who stole the weapons of the Titans before they went into battle.  He who destroyed their supplies, learnt their secrets, uncovered their weaknesses, all before the first blow was even struck.  My father and Poseidon . . . the Titans were wary of them.  But Hades . . . he was the one they feared.¡±

    She gestured to the helmet I held.

    ¡°A tiny shard of that power is now yours to wield.  Do not think that it is simple invisibility that the gift imparts upon you, though.  I have been told that you already have some mastery over light, correct?¡±

    At my nod she continued.

    ¡°In time you shall learn how to bend light about yourself, to cloak yourself in illusion and disappear from the sight of others.  Such a trick is common amongst those with a certain level of mastery over light, and as such the counter is likewise well known.  There are skills that can overcome such measures, but then there are counters to those methods, and back and forth it goes.

    ¡°This helm grants its wearer a greater level of concealment.  Not simply hiding from sight, but something beyond that.  It shall conceal you from spells that might detect you, and ensure that the technologies of this era are blind to you as well.  It shall muffle the sounds you make, contain the heat you give off, still the air in your passage, and even make you lighter upon your feet.

    ¡°True, in time you may grow skilled and powerful enough to do all of these feats yourself, but this helm shall do them all for you now, and it shall cost you none of your own power to maintain them.  I am certain that you can understand what a boon it might be to you.¡±

    My eyes drifting down to the polished steel surface of the helmet in my hands.  Stealth fighters were a major thing in the military for a reason, after all.  If I could attack from invisibility that would be a major advantage.  Telekinesis would have even better synergy, letting me appear to be somewhere else, making an enemy exhaust themselves chasing me when I was safely elsewhere.

    ¡°There are limitations, of course.¡± The Greek goddess¡¯s words broke my train of thought. ¡°Unlike my uncle¡¯s true Helm, this one cannot maintain its concealment when you draw upon power beyond a certain level.  It will continue to cover you should you employ your flight magic, minor defences, or lower offensive powers.  However, should you draw upon greater forces then you will disrupt the web of magic used by the helm.¡±

    And just like that my visions of a future involving myself as an invisible stealth bomber, raining down magical destruction upon my bewildered foes, vanished like dew under the summer sun.  I supposed that I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised.  In myths and legends whenever a hero got a magic item there were always limitations on it, things that kept it from being I cheat item.  It was true of the arms of Achilles, it was true of Excalibur, so I shouldn¡¯t be surprised it was true for my gifts.

    Well?  Are you going to try it on, or just stand there staring at it?¡±

    Kali¡¯s playful tone brought me out of my thoughts of lost power and back to the matter at hand, quite literally, given I was still holding the helmet.  Seeing no reason to hesitate I brought it up and slipped it over my head, and looked out through the eye holes.

    The first thing I noticed was how comfortable it was to wear.  The inside of the helm was padded with some sort of leather, but the way it gripped my head was both effective and comfortable.  I could feel it pressing in at my temples, cheekbones, and the back of my head.  It felt firm, enough so that I was confident that the helmet wouldn¡¯t come off easily, not if I shook my head or moved around.  I was also sure that I could have worn it for hours and not had to worry about headaches, overheating, or any other discomfort.

    The next thing that struck me was how the world seemed to have changed.  It wasn¡¯t a huge thing, but it was noticeable, a clear shift in the colours of the world around me.  The closest I could come to describing it would be to say that it was similar to wearing coloured sunglasses.  The world seemed a bit darker, and the colours that I normally saw were tinted with something else.  The problem was that the colour that now suffused the world before my eyes was a colour I¡¯d never seen before.

    It was so bizarre that for a moment all I could do was stare.  The colour . . . it didn¡¯t have a place on the spectrum, it wasn¡¯t some shade of blue, red or yellow, it wasn¡¯t anywhere on a rainbow.  Instead, it was alien, but familiar at once, as though I¡¯d known it all my life.  It wasn¡¯t making things harder, I could still see the world around me with crystal clarity, but the colour still tinted my view.

    The last thing that I noticed was the slight shifts of posture in the women around me.  It was only small things, a shifting of weight to get a firmer stance, or a tiny tensing of the muscles as they looked around, but it was there for all of them.

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    Joan asked the question as I took a couple of experimental steps, and I noticed that her eyes didn¡¯t follow me.  Moving further to the side I saw that the same was true of the others, none of them looking at me, rather their eyes stayed on where I had been.

    For a moment I felt as though I was back on that playground, nothing more than a kid pretending that nobody could see him.  Looking down at myself I could see that my whole body seemed to be outlined with just a touch more of that impossible colour than everything else.  Carefully, remembering Athena¡¯s words about how using too much power could break the helm''s invisibility, I lifted off into the air and drifted up and to the side.

    ¡°Adam?!¡±

    There was a bit more urgency to the resurrected saint¡¯s question this time, and I realized I still hadn¡¯t answered her.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine Joan.  This is just a bit weird.¡±

    They all turned to where my voice had come from. Faint amusement showed on Athena¡¯s face, while Kali was just grinning.

    ¡°I cannot sense you.¡± Hadriel was the first to speak, her head tilted slightly as she stared in my general direction. ¡°Perhaps if I were to use more . . . active methods I could find you, but as you are you could approach me and none of my passive perceptions would notice you.¡±

    ¡°I can see where this shall be useful,¡± Joan commented. ¡°Stealthy infiltrations.  Reconnaissance into hostile territory.  Escapes from pursuit.  Surprise precision strikes from nowhere.  There are many possibilities.¡±

    ¡°Heroes in the past have made use of such gifts,¡± Athena commented, her voice tinged with pride just on the edge of smugness. ¡°Perseus wore such a cap when he hunted the gorgon Medusa. The Norse hero Siegfried acquired a cloak of concealment from the dwarf king Alberich.  Even your own King Arthur possessed such a treasure, a mantle of invisibility, one of the gifts granted by Merlin the wizard.  It seems only right to provide one to a prospective hero of this new age.¡±

    There was a moment of silence as I took that in, agreeing with Joan¡¯s assessment, and feeling a secret pride that Athena was putting me in the company of such heroes as the ones she¡¯d mentioned.

    The Kali spoke up.

    ¡°Yeah, but I should warn you . . . if you use it to spy on me while I¡¯m in the shower then you¡¯d better be ready to pay the price, got it?¡±

    For a moment all I could do was stare at her, my thoughts having trouble shifting tracks with what she¡¯d just said.

    ¡°Honoured Kali, men will be men, but I think that Adam shall show better sense than that.¡±

    Joan¡¯s response was calm, reminding me that in life she had spent months in an army where she was often the only woman.

    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Kali seemed to be amused if her wide smile was anything to go by. ¡°That has got to be the first thing that goes through a guy¡¯s head when he gets invisibility.  Especially when he¡¯s surrounded by such hot women.¡±

    Her grin turned wicked with her last words.  Joan just looked at her, her expression faintly exasperated that the goddess wouldn¡¯t let the subject go.  Athena simply looked in my direction with a slightly raised eyebrow, a measuring look as though to say; ¡®well, is that the kind of guy you are?¡¯.  As for Hadriel, she had an expression of vague . . . pity and distaste on her face, as though she¡¯d encountered a passed-out drunk kid in an alleyway.

    ¡°You know I¡¯m not an idiot, right?¡±

    I asked the question as I took off the helmet and let myself slowly lower to the ground.

    ¡°Oh?  So, you¡¯re not going to try to peek on me?¡±

    As she asked the question the goddess of destruction adjusted her stance.  There weren¡¯t any major changes, a slight cocking of her hips a minor drawing back of her shoulders, a tilt of her head so her mane of black hair hung down one side of her face and front.  It was all small stuff, but somehow the cumulative effect made her go from ¡®attractive casual¡¯ to ¡®smoking sex goddess¡¯ in the span of a second.  Just like that, the notion of trying to spy on her while she was naked in the steaming hot shower became far more appealing.

    Fortunately, hormones didn¡¯t manage to trump self-preservation.

    ¡°Yeah.  Don¡¯t get me wrong, you¡¯re crazy hot, but I know enough mythology to know that seeing a goddess while she¡¯s bathing is just asking for trouble.¡±

    Yeah, I might not remember the names, but I knew the fates that had befallen some unfortunate men who stumbled across a goddess bathing.  Being struck blind had been the mildest fate they¡¯d suffered, with one unlucky bastard getting turned into a deer and then being torn apart by his own hunting dogs.

    ¡°Well, what about those that aren¡¯t goddesses?  Are they worth a peek?¡±

    Okay, now I was sure that the Hindu goddess was just stirring the pot for her own amusement.

    ¡°Like I said, not an idiot.¡±

    I think that just for a moment I saw a brief flicker of approval pass across Hadriel¡¯s face, but since I wasn¡¯t looking at her directly it was hard to tell.  For her part Joan looked pleased with my answer, offering me a small nod as our eyes briefly met.

    ¡°Perhaps we should return to our original topic,¡± Athena commented, gesturing to the helmet I still held in one hand. ¡°The helm has proven itself.  Have you any questions to ask?¡±

    I did actually, a couple of things occurred to me as soon as she made the offer.

    ¡°Are there any limits to how long I could use it?  I mean, could I wear it for hours and not worry about it running low on power, or something like that?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± She replied. ¡°The divine magic is efficient and self-renewing, drawing in magic from external excess.  Simply wearing it will provide the helm with the energy it needs to function, your own naturally radiated power enough for it.¡±

    ¡°What about if I gave to someone normal, someone without magic?¡± I asked.

    ¡°If worn by a mortal it could still draw in ambient mana to fuel itself,¡± Athena replied. ¡°If the wearer remained in place for hours then it might exhaust what the helm could harvest from the atmosphere.  However, the act of moving only a few feet would provide enough fresh energy to continue to function for hours more.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I filed that away, unsure if it would be important, but deciding it was better to know. ¡°And how tough is it?  Could it take a hit?¡±

    ¡°It is meant more as a magical tool than a piece of armour,¡± The Greek goddess admitted. ¡°The form of a helmet was selected because it was a convenient one, but it could have just as easily been a crown or cap.  Still, it is the work of my brother, and nothing that Hephaestus crafts is fragile.  It should be able to endure some punishment, but do not think it more durable than a mortal well-made helmet would be.¡±

    Looking down at the helm I wondered for the first time how I was going to carry it around.  It wasn¡¯t as though I could wear it all the time, given that putting it on activated its invisibility.  I supposed that I could stuff it into my bag of holding when not using it but taking it out and putting it back on could take too long in a crisis.

    For a moment I found myself thinking about far too many fictional protagonists.  When they had magic armour that was inconvenient, they could just summon it or will it away with ease.  No fuss, no effort.  Real life wasn¡¯t that convenient I guessed.  Still, I already had a bag I could stuff a small armoury into, so there was no need to get greedy.

    ¡°So, d¡¯ya want to play with your new toys some more, or are we going to get on with something else?¡±  Kali asked the question with the kind of easy-going teasing that I was starting to expect from her.

    A gust of warm summer wind passed across the field as she asked her question, the white grass swaying as it passed.  I was momentarily distracted by the feel of it in my feathers, my wings fluffing up instinctively to catch it, and a pleasant shiver running down my spine.  The sensation was like having someone else comb your hair, only more so.

    It was only a momentary distraction, and I quickly turned my attention back to the conversation.

    ¡°I believe it is time for me to contact my brethren once more,¡± Hadriel stated. ¡°They shall provide me with an update upon current world events, information we can use to plan our actions once we leave this Sanctuary.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so we¡¯re going to plan our next move?  I can get behind that!¡±

    There was definite eagerness in Kali¡¯s voice now, though I wasn¡¯t quite sure what for yet.

    ¡°I have methods of contacting my own allies,¡± Athena offered. ¡°Such methods shall not compromise the safety of this spell, nor reveal our location.¡±

    ¡°I guess I can check in to see if anyone has sent me any messages.¡± Kali offered, also turning to head back to the farmhouse.

    In short order, it was just me and Joan standing there, the sudden shift abrupt enough to leave me staring after them in surprise.  Unsure of what else to do I offered the helmet to the French saint.

    ¡°Want to try it on?¡±

    ¡°Non merci,¡± She declined. ¡°That was a gift for you, it is not for me to wear.¡±

    I frowned at that and immediately decided that this needed to be nipped at the bud.

    ¡°Nope,¡± She looked taken aback by my response, but I didn¡¯t give her time to reply. ¡°Nope.  You¡¯re my ally, and there are going to be times when I might need you to use it, so no getting ideas about it being for me and only me, okay?¡±

    Seeing her nod, I offered her a grin in return.

    ¡°Besides, I want to see what it looks like from this side of things.  That¡¯s something I need to know, right?¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Joan nodded and took the helm, looking down at it as though it were some sort of strange animal she had been handed. ¡°I see.  If that is the case, then how can I decline?¡±

    Turning the helmet around she lifted it up and slipped it over her head.  I had a moment to think it looked silly on her, the Grecian style at odds with the more sophisticated lines of her armour.  That only lasted for an instant before she was gone.  There was no fading away, no disappearance as though a veil were being drawn over her.  One instant she was there, the next . . . nothing, just the field behind her as though she had never been.

    ¡°Mon Dieu, is . . . is this what you saw when you wore it?¡±

    It was disconcerting to hear Joan¡¯s voice coming out of nowhere, as though she were some sort of ghost.  I kept looking for her, but not finding her, even though she sounded so clear, so present.

    ¡°You mean that strange colour?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah, took some getting used to.  You can see it too?¡±

    ¡°I . . . I think I have seen this colour before,¡± I think she was talking more to herself than to me. ¡°Where was it?  O¨´ ¨¦tait-il?¡±

    Then she was in front of me again, the suddenness of her appearance startling me enough to take a half step back.

    ¡°It is something for later,¡± She muttered as she handed the helm back to me, though something in her eyes still seemed unsettled. ¡°For now . . . what do you feel you need?¡±

    ¡°Honestly?¡± As she nodded, I let my shoulders slump. ¡°I could use some downtime.  It¡¯s just been one thing after another.  I haven¡¯t really had any time to decompress, y¡¯know?  I got some sleep last night, but it''s just been all go apart from that.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Joan actually looked a bit guilty. ¡°I suppose that there have been a great many claims upon your time since you returned.¡±

    Glancing up she looked at the sun.  Following her gaze I was surprised at just where it was, a reminder that despite how I felt it wasn¡¯t all that late.  It was only midmorning, the day still stretching out before me.

    ¡°Why do you not take the rest of the morning to relax?  It would seem that our divine allies are all occupied with their own affairs for the time being, perhaps we should take the opportunity it affords.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I said it with real gratitude, thankful that she got where I was coming from.  At that moment I really wished that I could still taste my food because some comfort eating would have been appreciated.  Instead, I figured I could just lie on my bed for a bit and try to just do nothing.  No rushing around, no planning for the future, just lying there and letting my mind go peacefully blank.   Well . . . that was what I was going to try for anyway, whether I got it or not was another matter.

 Chapter 4: Revelations: Part One

    Chapter 4: Revelations: Part One

    Joan watched as her charge made his way back to the farmhouse.

    Adam had come far from the young man that she¡¯d first met.  Looking back, she remembered how she had asked if there was another Adam in residence when she¡¯d first met him, an action she now regretted.  He¡¯d seemed so ordinary back then.  Not weak, but . . . unremarkable?  It was something of a harsh description, but the first time the French saint had seen her charge there had been nothing to suggest just what a unique being he was.

    Now things were different.  His power was growing, he was developing his skills, and, more than anything else, he looked the part he was beginning to play.

    A wry smile touched Joan¡¯s lips as she moved to follow the demigod.    Adam¡¯s new appearance was going to be of use to him once he returned to the wider world, shallow as it might seem.  Mortals were more likely to take heed of someone who was obviously of divine blood.  As for gods and immortals, his beauty was going to be almost as much a factor in his interactions with them as his power would be.  Far too many deities could be influenced by an attractive face.  Of course, many gods had little restraint in the face of someone they desired.  Mythology was rife with examples of gods and goddesses desiring someone, and not being willing to take no for an answer.  Her charge might be no helpless mortal to be plucked like a ripe apple, but still . . .

    The reborn soul dismissed her train of thought as she entered the farmhouse and made her way to her room.  Such worries were unproductive, not something she could do anything about at this moment.  What she could do was find out new information that might be of aid to her charge.

    Reaching into one of the lower drawer of her bedside table she pulled out an old leather-bound bible.  She took out a piece of folded parchment, one with a number of circles filled with Enochian characters.  Spreading it out on her desk she sat before it, her fingertips placed on certain runes as she channelled her power into it.  In response the intricate design lit up, golden light running through the circles and the symbols as they took her power and used it to fulfil the function they had been made for.

    Joan only had to wait a few moments before she felt a connection form.  The design she was using was an old one, one learnt from books that had been meticulously guarded and preserved in the secret vaults beneath the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Pr¨¦s.  When the Black Sun ended, and the divine returned, the ranks of the Faithful of the Lord had sought out writings and works that were once thought simply the labours of the mad.  By the time Joan had descended, there had been some few among them that had begun to learn the mortal magic of Heaven from them.  This was one of their greatest accomplishments, a seal that permitted communication regardless of other angelic spells that might interfere.  It was not undetectable though, so the reborn saint had not used it before.

    Now though . . . not only honoured Hadriel stood guard, now there were also the goddesses Athena and Kali.  If the communication should be intercepted and an attack launched on this location then Joan would honestly pity the fools that tried.

    <Your Holiness?>

    Joan did not quite hear the words in her mind, but the meaning came through easily enough.

    <Samuel, it is good to hear from you.>

    Samuel had been one of the first mortals that the resurrected soul had encountered after her return to the flesh.  He was a studious man in his late forties, pale from too much time indoors and balding early due to too much work.  He was earnest in studies of the rediscovered holy magic and had achieved considerable success.  To be sure, he lacked any sort of destructive or combat power, but in matters of scrying or divination he was surprisingly potent.  It had been this magic that had led to him being highly placed among the faithful who had offered their aid to the angels.  When Joan had descended he had been her principal point of contact with the organization.

    <Ah, likewise, your holiness, I can assure you! How does your mission progress?  Have you found the Nephilim?  Has he Awakened to his power yet? Shall we see the glory of a son of Heaven unleashed upon the sinners?>

    Joan had to bite back a sigh as she listened to the tirade of questions.  Samuel was not a bad person, of that she was sure.  However, his piety and zealousness  made him somewhat difficult to deal with.  As a living saint, he practically venerated her.  She was uncomfortable with such a level of reverence, feeling unworthy of it, but that she could have borne without comment.  It was his eagerness to clash with the perceived foes of the Almighty that concerned her.

    His intentions were not malicious, but as a dedicated academic he had spent the majority of his life in libraries and archives.  To him, the world was as black and white as the tales of daring believers and flawless angels he had read about his whole life.  This blindness to the greys of the world concerned the resurrected saint but was not something she was in a position to do anything about, not with the other claims upon her time.

    <Adam has begun to develop well,> She replied, pausing for a moment to consider, then deciding to share some minor details. <Already he has cured a fellow demigod that was twisted by his power and drawn the attention of the Hindu and Greek pantheons.>

    There was a pause, and Joan could feel the echoes of emotions bouncing down the link to her.  This sort of connection was not meant to allow such an empathic bond, but with the intensity of the emotions on the other end, it was happening regardless.

    The French saint could feel the edges of a roiling maelstrom, a mixture of outrage, disgust, guilt and bewilderment, all swirling around a central point of iron will that remained in control.  It was not the first time she had felt such a mixture of emotions from her ally, but she still couldn¡¯t help but feel a certain disappointment at it.

    Samuel had been brought up to fully embrace the belief that the Almighty was the only true god.  To him, the return of the other pantheons had been a call to arms, a chance for the forces of heaven and the faithful to finally destroy these ¡®false¡¯ gods.  To learn that these other deities were not only to be left alone but were actually acknowledged by heaven as being true gods . . . it had been hard to swallow.  Indeed, it seemed he had not yet fully managed it.

    Joan could feel sympathy, after all, she had been in a similar situation when she first learnt of the existence of other pantheons.  In her life she had been devoted to the Lord, she had lived her life according to his teachings and those of his son.  She had followed his teachings, and that had included the Commandments that He had passed on to Moses.  To learn that successive generations of translation and interpretation had caused some of them to drift from their original meaning had been a bitter pill to swallow.

    The First Commandment stated that there was no god save for the Almighty, or at least that had been what she had been taught.  It had been difficult to learn that He was not the only god as she had believed, but rather that the Commandment meant that he was the preeminent god of those ancient people with whom the Lord had made a covenant.  It did not preclude or deny the existence of other deities, only that those of the covenant could not place them above the Almighty.

    It was a truth Samuel was having trouble coming to grips with, but Joan knew he was at least trying.  Perhaps the knowledge that some of those gods were now her allies would help him in coming to terms with the the reality if their situation.

    <It is good to learn he is receiving the . . . respect he is due.  Hopefully, we shall all soon be able to witness his radiance and bathe in the might of a Son of Heaven.>

    Letting another unfortunate comment pass, Joan chose to continue to the reason that she had contacted the church-associated mage.

    <The time for us to end Adam¡¯s training and move into the larger world is quickly approaching.> She explained. <What can you tell me of any recent developments?  Has any matter arisen that could prove a suitable mission upon which to have my charge further cut his teeth?>

    <Another warlord has arisen in Africa,> He stated, <This one seems to be backed by a deity though.  There are rumours of human sacrifice, orgies, mass slaughter of isolated settlements.  Defeating such a fiend might well serve to bolster the reputation of your charge in the international eyes.>

    This . . . this was the problem with Samuel.  She had asked for a task to ease Adam up to the next level, and the academic immediately suggested thrusting them into a hungry bear trap.

    Africa was currently a mess, the continent worst impacted by the return of the deities.  The northern portion of the continent was faring best, due to the return of many Egyptian deities that had acted in the best interests of their old country, and then extended their influence westward.

    However, the further south one went the less stable the situation became.  Central Africa was home to several gods that simply wanted to restore the untamed wilderness they remembered from their rule.  Then there were the warlords.  More than a dozen demigods had found their way to the increasingly lawless portion of the country.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    For the time being, most of the world regarded that portion of Africa as an example of how bad things could get if the gods and other immortals showed no restraint.  On an international level, the policy was to be hands-off, the majority of the continent serving as a location the wilder gods could travel to if they wished to abandon civilization.

    No, the French saint had no desire for her charge to get tangled up in that mess.

    <I fear that such an expedition might be more than he is ready for just yet.  Perhaps something on a smaller scale would be more appropriate.>

    Joan attempted to be diplomatic in her response, knowing that the unsuitable suggestion had not been offered in malice.  In truth, she had been expecting something like this, though the foreknowledge did little to dispel her slight exasperation at the scholar¡¯s well-meaning blunder.

    <Ah . . . forgive me.> Contrition coloured the communication as Samuel apologised. <I allowed my enthusiasm to overcome my caution.  Allow me a moment.  Something suitable . . .  Something suitable . . .>

    His last sentiment seemed to be directed more to himself than to the reborn saint, and Joan had the distinct impression that he was shuffling papers on his end.  She could all too easily imagine him combing through the piles of reports that he often kept heaped on his desk, the method he used to organise them more complicated and arcane than the magic he studied.  The thought brought a smile to her lips just before the wordless communication began again.

    <I believe I have some situations that might be suitable for your young lord to attempt,> Samuel informed her, satisfaction tinging the link between them. <A dragon has recently been seen in the Carpathian Mountains.  Thus far it has not attacked any nearby towns or villages, but there is worry in the area.  The dragon is reported to be sizable but not enormous, I regret that there is no more accurate description.  It has been confirmed that it can speak though since it bellowed to one town for the people to stay out of the mountains.  Very loudly, enough so that glass shattered if the reports are to be believed.  Might this be more in keeping with your wishes?>

    The resurrected soul slowly nodded, the meaning of the gesture passing through the link as easily as if she had spoken aloud.

    When monsters had returned to the world along with the gods, dragons had come with them.  As creatures closely tied to magic, they had also been banished to other planes.  So far, the ones that had returned were extremely rare, but as with all other beings of myth, their numbers were slowly growing.

    Dragons were among the highest tier of monsters, in that they were both beasts and thinking beings.  True, some of them allowed their bestial nature to take over, but others were every bit as intelligent and cunning as the wisest fey.  This meant that they were far too dangerous to handle like another ¡®normal¡¯ legendary race.

    In many ways, dragons could be regarded as the apex of mortal life, though they were ¡®mortal¡¯ in the loosest sense of the word.  Dragons were creatures that didn¡¯t grow weaker with age, rather they only grew larger, stronger, and more powerful with the passage of time, and they were not weak to begin with.

    More than that, their personalities tended to run the range from evil tyrants to benevolent sages. They could be solitary hermits, or choose to join other factions for reasons of their own.  As such dragons were prized allies to any that could gain their service or loyalty.

    If Adam were to investigate this new dragon it did not necessarily mean they would come to blows.  Dragons had lived in relative peace with human neighbours before, each race giving the other space and no conflict arising.  If he could broker such an agreement it would go a goodly way towards establishing a reputation as a negotiator.  And if it proved malevolent it could serve as fodder to build his reputation.

    <A dragon has possibilities,> She replied. <Facing a dragon would be a fine chapter in any hero¡¯s legend.  Still, are there other options?>

    <This is less confirmed,> Samuel sent to her, tinges of uncertainty clear in his communication. <There seems to be increasing activity from the Fey Courts.  Several of the Summer Court¡¯s younger nobles came through a number of the smaller gates across Europe.  They haven¡¯t taken any overt actions yet, but there are rumours that children have gone missing in Germany and Poland, even as far east as Ukraine.  There is no proof that they have anything to do with it, but sightings of elves and faery have been made near the disappearances more often than not.

    <The Winter Court has also made a move, though it seems that they are being surprisingly cautious.  The Unseelie have sent Princess Malmuira to treat with Odin, though what the subject may be is unknown.  What is known is that she was accompanied by Jack, and he was carrying a chest large enough to hold a man.  The pair of them met the pagan god in one of his halls and he ordered all his attendants out before the negotiations began.  They left the chest behind, and Odin is reported to have been . . . dour after they left.  I do not know if either of these would be of use to you, but I felt you should know.>

    Well, that was even more interesting, in its own way.  The Courts of the Fey were powers that needed to be respected.  They might not be on par with a true pantheon, but they had the advantage of numbers, and the royalty of each court possessed power sufficient to match even a strong god.

    The actions of the Summer Court were not too unusual, if it was them who were abducting children.  In ancient times they would take children, exchanging them for gold, or leaving changelings in their place, the stolen child then being adopted into some fey family.

    Rescuing such children would be within Adam¡¯s current capabilities, especially with Joan and Athena to advise him.  His magic would be sufficient to capture the fey without killing them.  Once held it would be possible to ransom them back for the children.  It was a promising path, save for the fact that actually finding the members of the Summer Court might prove difficult in the extreme.

    However, it was the actions of the Winter Court that had interested her more, and it was they that now drew her attention.

    Each court was ruled over by monarchs.  In the case of Summer, they were governed by Oberon and Titania.  They were Faery monarchs of such power that the echoes of their names had crossed the barriers between realms and were heard by the famed wordsmith Shakespeare in the form of dreams.  Dreams which he took inspiration from.  The Winter Court was ruled over by Queen Maeve, the lone monarch of Winter, the fey that had once lived as a mortal and been worshipped as a god.

    That not only princess Malmuira, one of the queen¡¯s three daughters, but also her personal champion, the Final Frost, had been sent . . . it told her something was up.

    The court of Winter was more complicated than its summer counterpart due to the unmarried status of their queen.  Though her rule was unquestioned the fact was that Maeve¡¯s daughters had been born out of wedlock, and that had led to problems.  The unstable nature of her position reflected on her court, and the intrigue and treachery of Winter was known to be vicious and merciless.

    In such an environment the killer known as Jack of Frost had risen high, becoming the personal champion and executioner of the Winter Queen.  He had done so by climbing atop a mountain of corpses, his hands dripping with the blood of his victims, and with a smile on his face.

    And those were the two that Queen Maeve had sent to treat with the king of the Norse Pantheon on her behalf?  A powerful but disgraced princess and a half-insane killer?  And they had left the Norse All-father in a dour mood behind them?  She could see the pieces, but they were not fitting together.

    It wasn¡¯t as relevant to Adam as the actions of the Summer Court, but it was something to be aware of, she was sure of it.

    So . . . possible combat or negotiation with a dragon, or the rescue of children from a faery realm.  Either was a worthy task, but she was not certain which of them her demigod would view as more important.  Adam was not the sort to leave children captured, even if they were relatively safe.

    <Thank you for informing me of this.> She communicated to the distant practitioners. <Even if I cannot act upon this knowledge directly, it could be an important detail at some later point.  Is there anything else?  Are there any other occurrences that might be of import to Adam?>

    There was a pause, and momentary indecision tinged the link before firming into certainty.

    <The young lord was raised in Britain, was he not?>

    His question felt as respectful as ever, but Joan was sure she could detect a tiny trace of . . . resentment, maybe irritation, beneath it.  The emotion was weak though, simply a faint echo, but it was there, and feeling it caused a wry smile to tug at Joan¡¯s lips.

    She could understand Samuel¡¯s feelings, she had also felt disappointment when she¡¯d learnt the demigod she was to guide and guard had not been one of her countrymen.  In a way, it was pleasant to know that she was not alone in her flaw, but that was unimportant for the moment.

    <Yes, he has lived there his whole life.> She relied.

    <Then he may wish to know of the latest development there.> There was a pause before he continued, one filled with quiet deliberation. <The scabbard of King Arthur has been stolen.  Last night, thieves managed to break into the British palace, bypass all magical and mortal security, and make off with it.>

    For a moment Joan would only clench her jaw and rein in her temper.

    <Why did you not mention this sooner?>

    She was very careful not to snap at her contact, but it was a near thing.  This might be exactly what she wanted!  If Adam could return a stolen treasure, an incredibly valuable and powerful one at that, to someone as famed as the returned king then it would be the ideal foundation upon which to start creating a reputation.

    <I know that the situation sounds near ideal, but as matters stand a great many forces are seeking the scabbard.> Samuel explained. <I do not know the powers and talents of the young lord you are guarding, but unless he has some sort of advanced tracking magic then he shall only be one amongst a great many seeking the same thing.  The Knights of the Round are searching, the demigods associated with the British government are searching, and those drawn by the great reward offered for the scabbard¡¯s return are searching.  There are so many . . . I did not think it suitable to suggest.>

    Very well, she could see his reasoning, but even so, such an event was momentous enough that he should have informed her regardless.

    ¡°Is there yet any information on the thieves?¡±

    ¡°No, none.   Whomever they were they left nothing to identify them.¡±

    ¡°Very well.  There is still some time until our current defences reach their end, I shall contact you again in two days, please do your best to find some more possibilities by then.¡±

    ¡°It shall be my duty and my pleasure.¡± Her ally assured her.

    ¡°Very well, Dieu soit avec toi.¡±

    She broke the connection, letting the magic fade away as she carefully returned the parchment to its former hiding place.  leaning back in her chair she mulled over what she had learnt.

    In all honesty, she had not expected Samuel to just have the perfect assignment for Adam ready and waiting.  God might provide, but normally it took more effort than that.  However, despite her misgivings on the matter, she found herself thinking about the lost scabbard of King Arthur again.

    It really would have been ideal, a way for Adam to arrive on the world stage in the best possible way.  However, Samuel was right in his opinion.  Far too many others would already be seeking the lost treasure, and any thief able to escape with it would not be so foolish as to neglect defences against scrying.  Finding them would take . . .

    She paused in her thoughts as an idea occurred to Joan.  It was not any sort of plan, but it was a possibility.  She would need to consult with honoured Hadriel, but if this worked then her charge might well be in for some good fortune.

 Chapter 4: Revelations: Part Two

    Chapter 4: Revelations: Part Two

    ¡°Y¡¯know that you''re being strung along, right?¡±

    The casual voice almost made me jump out of my skin. Behind me my wings went stiff, tensing up in readiness for a fight. I winced as one of the sharpened feathers dug into the plaster of the wall behind me, but most of my attention was on the figure casually leaning back in the corner next to the door.

    ¡°Emma?¡±

    There was no mistaking her, though this time I was seeing her in the light of day, rather than the darkness and shadows of night. She was still the same, dressed in battered old clothes, almost hiding in that oversized hoodie of hers. I still could only make out her mouth and chin.

    ¡°Keep it down!¡± Her voice was little more than a whisper as she waved one hand at me. ¡°Do you want to let the others know I¡¯m here? I told you what¡¯d happen if they found me!¡±

    Oh yeah. Memories of our last encounter came back in a rush. I still didn¡¯t have a completely clear picture of her past, but she¡¯d given me helpful advice and helped me when I was in danger, so I was willing to keep listening to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again,¡± I kept my voice low but allowed a grin to spread over my lips. ¡°Your advice worked great, I was able to spark my magic and get it working!¡±

    Her red lips curved into a pleased smile and she stood a bit straighter.

    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t just leave you to stumble about in the dark.¡± She declared. ¡°Getting your magic up and running wasn¡¯t something I could just leave to those two. It woulda taken them ages to work out what was wrong.¡±

    I could only grin in reply, but that faded as I recalled what she¡¯d said.

    ¡°What did you mean, about me being strung along?¡±

    Her own lips flattened as she became serious.

    ¡°Athena, you do get that she¡¯s got her own agenda here, right? I mean, they both do, but she¡¯s the one that you¡¯ve got to worry about. Kali¡¯s dangerous, but she¡¯s sworn t¡¯you, so you¡¯ve got less to worry about there. Athena though, y¡¯can see that she¡¯s got her own game going on.¡±

    I took a few steps back and sat down on the bed as I kept my eyes on her.

    ¡°Okay, you¡¯ve got to give me a bit more than that! What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°D¡¯you think the Greeks got to be one of the most famous and influential pantheons in the world by being nice? By being soft? You lit up the world during your Awakening, you think they missed that?¡±

    ¡°So, what do they want?¡±

    ¡°Same thing anyone in power wants. More power, control, security, maybe to get rid of a threat before it grows.¡±

    That made me sit up straighter, the thought that Athena might be a danger was not one that I felt comfortable with. Not in the least.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying she¡¯s a threat?¡±

    Emma¡¯s hooded head shook, one hand coming up to gesture as though brushing away invisible flies.

    ¡°No, not yet anyway. Look, you''re powerful or you¡¯re going to be. She¡¯s here to watch out for the Olympian¡¯s interests, you get me? Yeah, she¡¯s going to train you, she¡¯s going to help you, but if she thinks that you¡¯re a threat, that you might move against her family or threaten their interests, then she¡¯s not going to hesitate to cut you off any way she has to. Do you think that Zeus sent her here because he pulled her name out of a hat?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    I didn¡¯t like where this was going. When Athena had told me she was going to be an ally I might have been intimidated and nervous, but I¡¯d also been elated at the thought of the sort of power she¡¯d be able to put in my corner.

    ¡°If he was really set on helping you then he¡¯d have sent someone else. The best choice Zeus could¡¯ve made would¡¯ve been to send you one of his kids, the half mortals ones that got immortality. Heracles or Perseus woulda been best. Both of them used t¡¯be mortal, so they know what it¡¯s like. They¡¯ve also been heroes, so they know what it¡¯s like. They¡¯d coulda walked you through growin¡¯ into your power, stuff like that.

    ¡°Athena . . . she¡¯s never been mortal. Hell, she¡¯s never even been a child! She¡¯s smart and strong and competent, but she¡¯s not the one Zeus woulda sent if he was trying to give you firepower. She¡¯s never been a partner or companion t¡¯heroes before. Yeah, she¡¯s been a patron, the one that gives them advice and magic weapons, but she¡¯s never fought shoulder t¡¯shoulder with them, y¡¯know.

    ¡°She was sent because she¡¯s one o¡¯ the ones he can be sure is loyal to him, understand? She¡¯s strong enough to be useful, smart enough to help, but her first priority is always gonna be Olympus.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    I was getting the shape of what she meant, but I didn¡¯t want to misunderstand.

    ¡°Look, both those sent to help you are goddesses, beautiful and powerful goddesses. With Kali that¡¯s just coincidence, she got sent because she was the strongest and closest ally Shiva had with him that he could trust, y¡¯get me? With Athena though, her gettin¡¯ chosen was more . . . calculated.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s gorgeous, one of the great beauties of the Olympians. More than that, she¡¯s one of their virgin goddesses. Zeus might be a horn dog, but he knows how t¡¯use a pretty face, and a daughter that won¡¯t go fallin¡¯ for one. So here she is, with her looks and gifts, all ready t¡¯help you and distract you and give you a good impression of the Olympians. Have I got t¡¯paint a picture for you?¡±

    She didn¡¯t have to, a picture was already forming, and I didn¡¯t like it all that much. Still, I felt like I had to offer at least some defence on Athena¡¯s part, if for no other reason than that she seemed to be my ally for the time being.

    ¡°Okay, I get where you¡¯re coming from, but the Olympians have been pretty generous so far. The stuff they¡¯ve given me is going to be useful, especially that armour. I mean, Kali didn¡¯t bring me anything. Neither did Hadriel.¡±

    I spoke that last bit more to myself than to Emma, knowing it was unfair right after the words were out of my mouth, but it wasn¡¯t as though I could take them back.

    ¡°Really? Please don¡¯t tell me that you can¡¯t see it? Fine, lemme spell it out for you; Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts, is that clear enough for you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know the saying. Troy, the wooden horse and all that. But what does that have to do with me? It¡¯s not like they¡¯ve hidden a small army in that helmet, right?¡±

    It was a weak joke, and Emma just waved at me again, an almost dismissive gesture.

    ¡°Yeah, they sent a helmet of invisibility that they¡¯ve probably got a way to see though, an invulnerable chest piece that I bet they know the weakness of, and a bunch of cards that lead to accounts that I bet they can track. And they sent you a goddess that said she was here to be your teacher, but did you notice what she didn¡¯t say? She didn¡¯t make any promises about loyalty or allegiance, did you notice that?¡±

    What had Athena actually promised me?

    She was my teacher and advisor, and she¡¯d suggested that she¡¯d stand by me in a fight if needs be, but . . . there¡¯d been hints that this was based on family ties, but again, nothing concrete.

    ¡°The Hindu gods didn¡¯t send you gifts, but they¡¯ve sent you Kali. And she¡¯s sworn that oath t¡¯you, an oath that¡¯s backed up by Shiva¡¯s word as well, and there¡¯s no way she¡¯ll be breaking it, no matter what! D¡¯you have any idea how amazing that is?! Kali¡¯s one of the most feared goddesses in any of the pantheons, even the angels and demons are scared of her. You think what you saw her do was bad? Try and imagine that times a thousand and you¡¯ve got a good idea of what she can do when she really gets going! The Hindu Gods have practically handed you your own private nuke with this, that¡¯s how strong Kali can be!

    ¡°On the other hand, you have the Greeks, who¡¯ve given you some useful treasures, ones they can get around if they really want to. They¡¯ve also sent you a goddess who hasn¡¯t promised not t¡¯move against you, or promised her loyalty in any way. A goddess who¡¯s known for her smarts too. Are you starting to see what I¡¯m getting at?¡±

    ¡°But . . . why?¡± I was honestly bewildered. ¡°I get that I¡¯m meant to be powerful and stuff, but isn¡¯t this a bit much? I mean, this is Athena, isn¡¯t sending her to keep an eye on me overkill?¡±

    ¡°Okay, here are the cliff notes for you. The Greek gods have got a pretty united front. There¡¯re the Olympians are at the top of the heap, other strong gods like Hades and Heracles attached, more minor gods like Nemesis, Eros or Hebe, plus allied Titans, older powers, spirits and others. From the outside they look tough, all standing together like a fortress.

    ¡°They¡¯ve also got a pretty decent rep, as far as organization and strength go. Sure, lots of the other powers might see them as needlessly decadent or undisciplined, but they aren¡¯t seen as harmful t¡¯humanity in general, and hold off worse than them.

    ¡°The thing is that that¡¯s all on the surface. Under it they¡¯ve got problems. Pan, Dionysus and Hera¡¯re each of doing their own thing. There¡¯s the chance that the locked up Titans¡¯ll use the opened Paths t¡¯escape Tartarus. There¡¯re all the other pantheons that¡¯re also coming back. And on top of all that there¡¯s all the demigods and legacy inheritors that¡¯re popping up too. And not all are being loyal to their bloodline. Olympus, and Zeus especially, have a lot to worry about.

    ¡°And then you come along, some new demigod who lights up half the freakin¡¯ planet when you Awaken! And to top it off, you¡¯ve got their blood in you! D¡¯you think that has them jumping for joy? D¡¯you think that they¡¯re cheering for you?! Hell no! You¡¯re the guy that might well end up tipping over the whole applecart, you get me?!¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said the word with all the bewilderment growing within me. ¡°Athena said they don¡¯t even know who I¡¯m a Legacy of, but they thought it might be a titan. Is that why they¡¯d be scared of me?¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Well, I don¡¯t know who you¡¯re descended from, but I¡¯m willing t¡¯bet you copper t¡¯gold that she¡¯s lying through her teeth about that, and that¡¯s not a good sign.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°Look, I told you they know you¡¯re powerful, right? I mean, if you were a Legacy of one of the big Olympians then you can bet your ass that they¡¯d rushing t¡¯claim you. If you were one of Zeus¡¯s kids he¡¯d probably be trying to marry you into the family if he could, that¡¯s how much of an impression your Awakening made. Understand? The same goes if you¡¯re the Legacy of one of the titans who made peace with them, like Helios or Prometheus.

    ¡°The thing is . . . they didn¡¯t. Instead they¡¯re sending Athena to watch you. Don¡¯t kid yourself. I bet they know who you''re descended from in their family, and I¡¯m betting that they¡¯re scared.¡±

    The smile I could see on her face wasn¡¯t happy or gentle. Instead, it looked like a predator that had spotted bleeding prey.

    ¡°None of your bloodlines are weak, have you noticed that? Bath Kol is one of the strongest angels in the Heavens, Shiva was a god that other gods prayed to, and N¨¹wa wasn¡¯t someone you messed with, not if you wanted to walk away in one piece.

    ¡°So, who do you think you¡¯re descended from in the Greeks? It¡¯s gotta be someone strong, someone like the others you come from.¡±

    Okay, I could see what she meant.

    ¡°That means that if you¡¯re not the kid of Zeus, one of his brothers or a big-name child, like Heracles, you¡¯ve got someone else as your ancestor. And that¡¯s where things are getting complicated!¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re descended from a maybe you¡¯re descended from one of his enemies, like Atlas. Or worse, maybe from his own daddy, Chronos. Maybe it¡¯s even worse, you could be a kid of Uranus, or even Gaea herself!

    ¡°Y¡¯see why they¡¯d be worried? You might be a demigod, but if your ancestor¡¯s one of their enemies then you might be a real threat. But because you¡¯re tied to a bunch of other serious powers they can¡¯t just off you and cut you off before you get started. If they kill you without cause then they¡¯ll have a whole bunch of pissed powers coming down on them, and they need that like they need rusty nails in their eyes.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°So, what have they done? They¡¯ve sent the best combo of loyalty, looks, brains and killing power that they could t¡¯get close t¡¯you. Athena¡¯s here to be a sword of Damocles, you step out of line, you become a threat, swish, chop, thud! You understand?!¡±

    Yeah, that made things pretty damned clear!

    ¡°So . . . what should I do?¡±

    ¡°Well, do you plan t¡¯do anything that¡¯s gonna threaten Zeus and his lot?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    I had only the vaguest idea of what I was going to do, and I really didn¡¯t plan to try and tick off a pantheon that was quickly rising as a major power over in the USA. Seriously, I even owned a few shares in their company, having bought them on a whim.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯ll be enough for now,¡± She said as she leaned back. ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re worried and Athena¡¯s gonna be watching you like a hawk, but they¡¯re not going to jump the gun either.

    ¡°They can¡¯t just kill you outta paranoia,¡± Emma explained. ¡°If they push it too far then they¡¯re not just killing you, they¡¯re disrespecting every one of your divine ancestors.

    ¡°I know Bath Kol can carry a grudge for centuries if you push her enough and she¡¯s strong enough even primordials don¡¯t want to face her if they can help it.

    ¡°Kali¡¯s got your back, and even if it¡¯s just her that gets pissed at them then she¡¯ll be enough to hurt them on her own. If Shiva joins in then it¡¯ll be even worse.

    ¡°And then you¡¯ve got Nu Wa, and it¡¯s the second verse, same as the first. She¡¯s powerful, she¡¯s connected, and she¡¯s vengeful when you piss her off. As in ¡®Zeus might wake up to find his latest bed warmer getting ready to cut off his stick n¡¯ balls with a rusty knife¡¯ bad.

    ¡°Zeus and Athena won¡¯t move on you without justification, got it? And they won¡¯t move without a good reason. You worry them, but as long as you¡¯re not an active threat t¡¯them it¡¯ll cost them too much to have her take your head off. If they¡¯ve got proof though, something they can hold up and say ¡®yeah, he was moving against us despite us treating him well¡¯, then that¡¯s a different story.

    ¡°Your ancestors have got your back, but they¡¯ve also got other duties and responsibilities. They can move t¡¯avenge an honoured descendant, but a disgraced or over ambitious idiot that gets himself killed . . . that¡¯s another matter.¡±

    Great.

    I let out a groan of frustration and leaned back on my bed¡¯s pillows.

    ¡°What the hell? Don¡¯t I have enough problems? Don¡¯t they have enough problems?¡±

    It just seemed so unfair. I¡¯d had demon things trying to kidnap me during my Awakening, I¡¯d had to deal with that parasite creature, and then there¡¯d been Etienne. I wasn¡¯t really even looking for trouble and I¡¯d ended up dealing with stuff that belonged in my nightmares. Now I was hearing that even the gods that should have been on my side, since I was hoping to keep the world from going down in flames, might be looking for an excuse to see me dead!

    ¡°Did you think this was all going to be easy?¡± Emma asked. ¡°Welcome to the real world, your enemies aren¡¯t always going to be demons covered in hellfire and wielding pitchforks while cackling evilly. Everyone¡¯s out for themselves, everyone has their own angle, don¡¯t forget that.¡±

    ¡°Like you?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you have an angle?¡±

    ¡°Why else do you think I¡¯m here?¡± Her reply came so easily that it caught me by surprise since I¡¯d thought she¡¯d have tried to hide it, to evade or hedge, not outright admit it. ¡°But I¡¯ve been upfront about that. I¡¯m helping you so I can get into the good graces of the ¡®good guys¡¯. Yeah, I¡¯ve got an agenda, but it¡¯s one that means you can trust me. If I screw you over then it only works against me. If I help you, if I prove valuable and useful, then it works for me.¡±

    ¡°Only if you¡¯ve been telling me the truth,¡± I countered. ¡°If you¡¯ve been lying to me from the start then maybe you¡¯re just setting me up for later. I¡¯m not saying you are, only that you could be.¡±

    Emma nodded in response, then waited for a moment before answering.

    ¡°Yeah, I get how you could worry about that,¡± She allowed. ¡°But come on, I found you even before the saint! If I meant you any harm I could have had you snatched up before she ever turned up, before you even knew you had any divine blood in you. If I mean you any harm then why would I wait until after you¡¯ve got all your powers, until after you''re on the radar with all the powerful pantheons? Right now you¡¯ve got Kali as a bodyguard! Kali! The goddess that destroys the invincible! There¡¯re less painful ways to commit suicide than going up against her in a fight, like jumping into a volcano, that¡¯d be way easier to deal with!¡±

    She paused for a moment, taking a moment to calm down after having worked herself up into a rant.

    ¡°Look, I might have some crazy complicated scheme going on that takes all of this into account, or maybe I¡¯m just being honest with you. I¡¯m not asking you to blindly trust me here, just keep giving me a chance. I¡¯ve helped you so far, just give me some more chances to prove myself, okay? That¡¯s not too much to ask, right?¡±

    She had me there. There was being cautious, and then there was being paranoid. So far Emma hadn¡¯t done anything that went against me. She¡¯d saved me when we first met, then told me how to get my magic sparked when she¡¯d snuck into the Hallowed Sanctuary. Yeah, she¡¯d been evasive about her past and just who she was, but each of our interactions had been a gain for me.

    ¡°Okay, fine, I can trust you a bit,¡± I allowed. ¡°So . . . where do we go from here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right! We¡¯ve gotten so caught up on Athen and her family that I haven¡¯t told you the main thing I came here about.¡±

    Emma¡¯s words caught me by surprise, I¡¯d thought we were more or less finished.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°The Hallowed Sanctuary, it¡¯s not going to last as long as you think it will. I don¡¯t know why, maybe it¡¯s because you left it, maybe it¡¯s because those goddesses came in, but something¡¯s gone wrong. It should still have almost a week left, but you¡¯ll be lucky if it lasts two days!¡±

    Crap! I¡¯d known there¡¯d been something off about it when I got back from the mess with Etienne, but between meeting Kali and Athena, getting the gifts and just been totally exhausted it¡¯d slipped my mind. Then when I woke up there¡¯d been more to deal with, and there¡¯d been getting to know actual goddesses. Somehow it had just . . . stayed slipped.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got to tell Joan,¡± I said, thinking aloud. ¡°No, wait . . . I can¡¯t, can I? If I tell them then they¡¯ll want to know how I know it, and then I¡¯ll have to tell them about you . . .¡±

    ¡°None of them¡¯ll think of me as a decent source,¡± Emma finished my thought. ¡°Hell, if they work out who I am they¡¯ll think that I¡¯m lying just t¡¯get you into position for an ambush, or something.¡±

    That was less than ideal. I still didn¡¯t know exactly who Emma was, but she seemed pretty sure that any of my allies would immediately identify her as an enemy. Okay, so if I couldn¡¯t tell them, what did that leave me with?

    ¡°I could just tell them I sensed it myself,¡± I suggested. ¡°Magic¡¯s looking to be kind of my thing, so they¡¯d believe me, I think. Actually, I should try and probe the Sanctuary, see if I really can sense anything.¡±

    ¡°That could work,¡± Emma allowed. ¡°Maybe tell them, or don¡¯t. It¡¯s up t¡¯you really. You needed t¡¯know, but you¡¯re not in too much danger. Not anymore. With Kali and Athena as backup, Heaven¡¯s agents here and you getting stronger . . . well, unless a whole pantheon comes at you together then anyone trying anything is just sticking their hand in a mincer.¡±

    The smile that touched her lips wasn¡¯t a nice one. In fact, it was full on creepy.

    ¡°Just be ready, okay?¡±

    I nodded in response, offering a smile of my own

    ¡°Thanks for the heads up on this. Just knowing it¡¯s coming will be a huge help. I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±

    ¡°Well, you''re going to be leaving soon, one way or another¡± Emma commented, leaning back against a wall. ¡°Soon you''re going to be going out into the big wide world.¡±

    Her hands came up to press on each side jaws, an exaggerated parody of a woman framing her face like in an old movie, her voice was heavy with false excitement and enthusiasm.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be off to the big cities to seek your fortune, and you¡¯ll be dragging along your new retinue. Or they¡¯ll be dragging you along, it¡¯s all the same thing in the end.¡±

    Then her tone got serious.

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty going on that could use your help. Monsters showing up, new demigods looking for help, demons stirring up trouble, and gods making a mess. Hell, there¡¯re probably plenty of normal people screwing things up, trying to keep control or trying to find a way to cash in.

    ¡°At the end of the day, you¡¯ve got options, you can find what you¡¯re good at and get to work. The thing you¡¯ve got to remember is to watch your back, okay?¡±

    She paused, and I could see her soft red lips curved in a smile.

    ¡°Anyway, I didn¡¯t come here just to tell you to be careful. I¡¯ve got a present as well.¡±

    That caught me by surprise. I¡¯d been expecting cryptic advice, maybe some helpful coaching, not something more material.

    ¡°Thanks?¡±

    ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t up there with the armour of Achilles, but I¡¯m hoping it¡¯ll be useful to you.¡±

    As she spoke Emma reached into a pocket and pulled out . . . honestly, it looked like some sort of miniature hand crafted modern art piece. There were lots of copper and silver wires wrapped around a core that I couldn¡¯t fully make out. Threaded through the wire were feathers, beads and short black strings. It should have been a mess, unsightly and disorderly, but somehow there was a weird harmony to it, as though everything was right where it had to be. The end result was kind of organic, as though it had been grown rather than put together, every limb and organ where it had to be for the whole to function. Actually, it did kind of resemble a torso, though one without a head, and the limbs cut off at the knees and elbows. Somehow it still managed to look nice, even with that image in my head.

    She tossed it to me and I caught it with an ease that would have been foreign to me a few months ago.

    ¡°So . . . what is it? It looks cool, but I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t give me a pretty art piece.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for the compliment,¡± Her smile widened. ¡°It¡¯s a protection fetish, the best I can cook up as things stand.¡±

    Okay, that wasn¡¯t an opening I could let pass.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already got my own fetishes thank you, I don¡¯t need any more.¡±

    I took some pleasure in seeing her mouth part to speak, then freeze up, then bow in confusion before finally spreading into a grin.

    ¡°Okay, that was a good one. You do realise you look like an angel, right? And you''re talking about fetishes?¡±

    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one trying to give me one more. Do you think I collect them? I¡¯m happy with the ones I have.¡±

    We were both grinning now, the shared joke helping to lighten the mood after our earlier serious talk.

    ¡°I had no idea you had so many, is my gift threatening to overburden you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think I can handle one more, just for you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s so kind of you, thank you for taking on my fetish.¡±

    I could have kept it going, but I didn¡¯t want to run the joke into the ground. Instead, I held her gift up and took a closer look.

    ¡°So, what does this thing do?¡±

    ¡°Basically, it¡¯s a sort of reverse voodoo doll,¡± Emma explained. ¡°It¡¯s meant to take your place if you get hit by a curse or something like that. It¡¯ll only work once though, then it¡¯ll get consumed by whatever curse it¡¯s hit by, but that should buy you important time.¡±

    Okay, I could see how that would be valuable. Still . . .

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll be getting hit by curses soon?¡±

    Emma grimaced, then shrugged exaggeratedly.

    ¡°Look, one way or another, you''re going to be leaving the Sanctuary soon. You made a big splash when you Awakened, and there¡¯re already plenty looking for you. I know for a fact that some of them aren¡¯t looking to give you a bunch of flowers and welcome you to the demigod scene.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting stronger, you¡¯ve got decent allies and some decent equipment. So, if someone wants to hurt you they¡¯re going to have to use loads of firepower or do something tricky. Hopefully, this¡¯ll give you some protection there.¡±

    Was it really going to be like that? Was the Sanctuary going to go down and then I was going to get swarmed? My thoughts must have shown on my face because my late-night visitor spoke again.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t think you¡¯re screwed! Yes, you¡¯ve got people against you, but there are also plenty that¡¯ll welcome you. plus, you¡¯ve got a lot of firepower backing you up, nobody with a brain is going to mess with you without a damned good reason. I¡¯ve said that before, but you¡¯d better remember it. Going out there you¡¯ve got a real chance to make a difference, don¡¯t let yourself get lost in the details.¡±

    Before I had the chance to properly process it I heard the sound of feet on the stairs.

    Emma must have heard them too because she tensed up and in the blink of an eye I saw her inch her way back, sinking into the shadows. She didn¡¯t disappear though, instead, she waited, half submerged as we waited to see what happened.

    The footsteps drew closer . . . and then passed as whoever they were moved on past my room. Was it Joan? Kali? Athena? I knew it wasn¡¯t Hadriel, since she floated everywhere rather than walking. Well, it didn¡¯t really matter, that had been too close for comfort.

    My late-night visitor seemed to think the same thing, because when I looked back to her only her hooded head was left poking out of the shadows. The rest of her was indistinct, as though the shadows were swallowing her up.

    ¡°I¡¯d best get going before I push my luck any further,¡± She declared. ¡°If any of them find me now it¡¯ll be a case of ¡®shoot first, shoot some more, shoot the twitching corpse to be sure, then set in on fire to be on the safe side, ask questions never¡¯. I need to build up a hell of a lot more credit before I¡¯m comfortable introducing myself.

    ¡°You do what you think is best, you got me? You¡¯ve got power, allies, and you¡¯re a good guy, what else do you need!¡±

    I wanted to say ¡®More power! All the power!¡¯, but that seemed a bit too much like whining. She was right. Yeah, I wasn¡¯t in a perfect spot, but it wasn¡¯t like the whole world was out to get me! If I sat around and waited until things were perfect then I was going to be waiting until the sun winked out, at the earliest.

    ¡°Okay.¡± I paused for a moment, then decided to go for broke. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve done, but you¡¯ve helped me. I . . . when you want to introduce yourself to the others, I¡¯ll try and be in your corner, you got it?¡±

    Emma paused, almost half her head had sunk into the shadows she was using.

    ¡°That¡¯s sweet Adam,¡± She sounded pleased, not smug but happy instead. ¡°I . . . I hope that when you find out who I really am you¡¯ll still feel that way.¡±

    The shadows covered her completely, then faded away, revealing an empty corner, no hint that there¡¯d ever been anyone other than him in the room.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    This time Emma was unable to miss it, the sudden sensation of a red-hot poker being jammed into her shoulder. It was all she could do to bite back a hiss of pain as she unzipped her hoodie and pulled her t-shirt aside.

    Yeah, just as she¡¯d expected, another patch of white scales, this time almost as big as a bottlecap.

    The curse she uttered probably hadn¡¯t been spoken by the mortal tongue since before the Hangings Gardens of Babylon were planted. How many patches were there now? Three? Four? The seals and ointments she¡¯d been using on them left those areas numb, so it was all too easy to forget. Too many, that was the simple answer.

    Centuries of self-restraint, and it was all starting to fall apart. Every new patch only served to highlight how much she was slipping. She¡¯d been using more and more power since she¡¯d started looking out for Adam. Sure, she¡¯d been doing her best to only use external power, to limit herself to reagents or basic rituals, but clearly, it hadn¡¯t been enough.

    Running interference during his Awakening, slipping in and out of the Hallowed Sanctuary, any number of small things on the side, they were all adding up, and the price was coming due!

    Damn it! It was too soon! She had anticipated something like this, eventually. Proving herself was going to take effort, that was something that she¡¯d always been expecting. The thing was that she¡¯d thought she¡¯d have more time. Time to convince Adam that she really was on his side. Time to get on the good sides of his companions, build up some credit, some reputation she could cash in on. These scales were only small patches now, if she kept pushing then they¡¯d spread, and then it would only take a glance for someone to connect the dots.

    Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!

    Stumbling into the small room she¡¯d been calling home for the last few weeks Emma collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. So many thoughts were whirling through her head that it was getting hard to keep track of them all. Hopes, fears, memories, they all blended together, the warped and stained plaster seeming to shift from one image to another along with her thoughts.

    She was going to have to do something, things just couldn¡¯t continue like this.

 Chapter 5: Progress: Part One

    Chapter 5: Progress

    The Golem stirred.  It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to crack the brittle layer of dried ash and mud that had been clinging to parts of its form.

    The cracked dirt revealed a form that had slowly and subtly recovered from the ruinous damage inflicted upon it.  Gashes in the armour had sealed themselves, melted metal and stone had been drawn back into place, and even the head which had been little more than a scorched and slagged mess was now restored to what it had been when sent against the demigod¡¯s Awakening.

    In truth, it was something of a failing on the part of the two agents of the High Heavens that they hadn¡¯t noticed the construct recovering.  In their defence, the Golem had been designed so that when it needed to repair itself it could do so in stealth since its creators did not want it to be found when in a weakened state.  As such there were no random surges of power escaping the construct¡¯s form that would have alerted the angel or the saint.

    Full functionality had been reached earlier in the night, the core was brought to full working order, though some of the more minor tertiary systems were still recovering.  There were still such flaws as lessened senses, reduced advanced tactics and limited communications, but these too would heal in time.  In terms of strength and combat power the, Golem was ready to re-enter the fray whenever needed.

    Now it simply waited, preparing to commit to the next steps it needed to take.  Unlike a true living being, the Golem was unable to act without purpose.  Always it obeyed orders, always it was the servant and tool of others.  However, its near destruction had removed its earlier directives.  As it stood there were no instructions for it to follow.

    However, it was not without some impetus.  The energies that had been imparted upon it remained, and with them came . . . suggestions.  Not orders, but drives that could become orders in the correct circumstances.

    The Golem returned to its stillness, waiting.

    Sooner or later its path would become clear.  It always did.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN ¡®HE¡¯S GONE¡¯?!!!¡±

    The bellowed question echoed down the halls of the building, easily heard and drawing attention from the various working agents.

    The DMID, or the Divine Monitoring and Intervention Division was a relatively new department of the American government, but it was a department that had, of necessity, grown fast.  Already it had taken over a large office building that had once been the headquarters of a large law firm, one that had gone under in a spectacular fashion in the early days after the Black Sun. Their fall had been an object lesson on why one didn¡¯t try to serve a lawsuit against a god.  After their rapid closure, the DMID had quietly moved into their former building since it had been a convenient and covert location to use.  As far as the general public was aware the offices had been taken over by a stock market trading company, and that was the image they did their best to project.

    For the most part, the internal workings of the department closely resembled the customer service department of any company you¡¯d care to name.  Most of the time there was an endless quiet murmuring echoing between the various cubicles as the agents within worked to solve whatever issue they were assigned as quietly as possible.  It was a sort of professional courtesy, given that everyone knew that everyone else was dealing with something . . . difficult.

    The DMID¡¯s state goal was to keep track of the various supernatural forces that had appeared in the world and assess their threat potential to the United States and their allies.  On paper, they were just meant to keep an eye on things and gather data that more proactive agencies could make use of.

    In practice, most of the new agency spent its time smoothing over the smaller and more manageable issues that cropped up, keeping them from disrupting the general public .  If some god saw something in a shop they wanted and just took it, it was a DMID agent that quietly made sure the shop owner was reimbursed and given a little extra on the side to not make a fuss.  If some demigod awoke their power in a messy way then it was the agency that cleared things up and arranged for repairs and reparations.  When some spirit tore up a nightclub while in the grips of an exultant frenzy, it was the DMID that smoothed things over with the insurance companies and kept things on the low key.

    Of course, that was only what the larger portion of the division was tasked with, frustrating and sometimes tedious work, but something essential to keeping the country running.  Granted, things were running in a shaky, barely coherent approximation of what had once been normal, but it was close enough to keep things together.

    There was another, much smaller, part of the agency that was kept apart from the rest, the part that dealt with more serious issues, darker issues.

    The sad fact was that even though it was a national superpower the USA didn¡¯t have the means to put a leash on many of the returned supernatural beings, at least not with any sort of proportional expenditure of resources.

    A smaller section of the division had to act more ruthlessly, more amorally, sometimes not even legally, to keep the boat from being rocked.  They dealt with the cases that had to be kept quiet, that could lead to much worse things if they boiled over.

    The young man that tried to press rape charges against the demigod descended from Bacchus, a demigod that enjoyed his progenitor¡¯s favour, was quietly bribed and threatened into silence.  The demigod that had grown too fond of cocaine and heroin was provided with a steady supply under the table to ensure she¡¯d never feel motivated to use violence to sustain her habit.  The god that cursed a man with impotence for a slight had any possibility of a bad press or a lawsuit quietly taken care of.  That was what they dealt with.  Nobody ever said anything concrete about the department, but the other agents noticed that those who worked there grew . . . harder over time, maybe even a bit lifeless.

    Then there was the last, and smallest, of the departments, but arguably the one with the most power.

    The simple fact was that America as a nation wouldn¡¯t be able to survive if it didn¡¯t have some sort of hammer to bring down when it was needed.  Already there had been three attempts to carve out a kingdom inside the nation.  The first attempt by a demigod drunk on their power, the other two by different gods that had each tried their own methods of conquest.  Each occasion had been a nightmare scenario for the government, given that in those cases a military response would lead to overwhelming casualties.  In addition, so soon after the Black Sun, fear and confusion had been running rampant in the country, an operation like that, especially if it took losses as they predicted, could have led to riots and hysteria at the very least.

    Various political and military leaders had desperately been scrabbling for any solution at a time when they still didn¡¯t have enough information.  The few demigods that had signed on with the government were still, untested, uncertain protectors that couldn¡¯t yet be fully trusted, not to mention lacking in any real combat experience.  As the demigod had started what could very well become a zombie outbreak there had been serious consideration given to the use of a nuclear weapon on home soil to stop her.

    Fortune had favoured the nation though, and the demigod somehow managed to infuriate not one but two powerful supernatural beings, leading to her end.

    After that . . . well, it was something of a legend in the DMID.  A story that had been retold, exaggerated, embellished, stripped down and then told again until nobody without the highest levels of clearance knew the truth.  Apparently, some young agent with balls of tri-cast steel managed to talk to the beings that had killed the demigod, and somehow brokered a deal.  The result was Herne the Hunter and the Greek goddess Artemis had formed a pact with the American Government, promising to act as bounty hunters for the nation in exchange for certain payments and promises.

    Gods had a lot of power, and could take what they wanted, but it was much more satisfying when it was given to them.  The US government had set aside enormous sections of wild woodland for each of them, supplied thaem with anything they wanted, be it barrels of wine, lavish food, even small temples and shrines, all in exchange for two small favours.

    Firstly, that the two hunter gods stayed in their domains rather than roaming across the North American continent.  Secondly, that the gods would listhen when the government when they ¡®suggested¡¯ the target of a hunt.

    That had been an acceptable pact for the gods.  They had little desire to entire modern urbanised areas and were happy to live in their wild woodlands.  As for the quarries that were suggested . . . those were fine.  Listening to the entrities of mortals was nothing new to either of them, and monsters, rampaging demigods, or ambitious gods, all made fine quarries hunt.

    The DMID had grown up around those two divine assets.  Sure, they dealt with other things as well, but those two were the core, the nucleus.

    And now one of them had gone AWOL.

    The quiet murmurs of the office were all silenced by a roar from one of the side offices, every head turning that way.  The voice had been easy enough to recognise, Director Henricks, the man in charge of the deployment of America¡¯s divine bounty hunters.

    And what did he mean ¡®he¡¯s gone¡¯?

    In the office, the director stared across his desk at the agent before him.  Agent Grey was one of an entire division of personnel that were meant to manage and monitor Herne and Artemis, as well as any demigods that signed on with the government.  Generally, catering to the gods was easy enough.  They seemed to be happy just living and hunting in their vast woodlands, they accepted requests in keeping with their pact and rarely left their lands otherwise, and when they did they always demanded a mortal escort to tend to their demands.  It was a bit messy and costly, but it worked.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Until now.

    ¡°Sir, two days ago Herne was seen near the edge of his woods.  Since then he hasn¡¯t been spotted.  This morning agent Semeya performed the ritual to call him, and there was no response.  In accordance with our pact, we sent teams into the woods to find him, but no trace was found.  We sought out . . . supernatural aid, and the magic user sent to help couldn¡¯t find any hint of his presence.  More than that, the camps he normally uses have been cleared out, his totems are gone, and even his shrine is empty.¡±

    The director didn¡¯t ask if there¡¯d been any message left, if there had been it would already have been mentioned.  Instead, he asked a more pertinent question.

    ¡°What of Artemis?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s confirmed to still be in her forest,¡± Agent Grey confirmed. ¡°There do not seem to be any sort of changes in her behaviour.  She has been hunting and celebrating with her companions as normal.  Extra agents have been assigned to watch her, though so far nothing seems to be different.¡±

    Alright, then that was something.  America still had one trump card where it should be, and he still had a job to do.

    ¡°Okay,¡± The DMID director leaned forward, both his palms coming down on his desk hard enough to rattle his stationary, emphasizing his words. ¡°Find the agents assigned to watch him for the past week and rake them all over the coals, I want to know everything Herne did, who he saw, what he ate!  If he stepped on a beetle then I want to know who its next of kin were, who ate the body, and who attended its funeral.  Understand?!  I want to know what happened and if it is anything we did!  Go!¡±

    As Agent Grey nodded Director Henricks stabbed a button on his intercom, summoning three more agents in as he gestured Grey out.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing all of you already know what¡¯s happened?¡±  he asked, unsurprised at the nods he received.

    Honestly, he was the head of a new national department, responsible for god-only-knew how much money, resources and personnel, and it took several layers of security and classification before even potentially vital information trickled through to him.  On the other hand, if you listened to the gossip next to the coffee machine he could probably shave hours of his wait period.

    ¡°Very well.  Anton!  You are assigned to try to find where Herne has gone.  If he¡¯s not in his woods then we need to know where he is and why he¡¯s there!  Be as subtle as you can, but results are more important than discretion.

    ¡°Cassell, your job is to keep this quiet.  There¡¯s no way to keep it from getting out, but you¡¯re going to keep it from being too loud.  We don¡¯t want riots or ambitious demigods trying their hand at conquest.  Herne has left for his own reasons, that¡¯s the official line.  That means he hasn¡¯t broken with us, and that until someone says otherwise he is coming back.  Understand?!¡±

    The two agents nodded and left.  The director waited until the door clicked closed, then addressed the last agent.

    ¡°Has there been any change with our third Divine Asset?  Is there any chance that whatever affected this change in Herne might also influence them?¡±

    ¡°The Green Knight is still in place sir, so we can still call on him if we need to.¡± The last agent, a young woman with her dark hair done up in a tight professional bun, said. ¡°There has been no change in his behaviour, he just continues to tend to his garden and listen to his music.¡±

    The existence of the Green Knight was one of the best-kept secrets of the USA, a hidden card kept in the dark while their two other aces drew attention.

    As for who and what the Green Knight was . . . that was a bit complicated.  He wasn¡¯t really a god, but he was more human than an elemental spirit.   He wasn¡¯t a fey, but he did have connections with the Summer Court.  He was something else.

    As far as the various mystic scholars who worked for the United States government could work out, the Green Knight was an incarnation of the seasons of growth, of spring and summer.  It wasn¡¯t like he was a god, where they had dominion over such things, rather those things gave rise to the Green Knight.  It was a weakness, as he had explained to the agent who had negotiated with him.  Every year, when the first leaf of autumn fell he would die, only to be reborn when the first shoots of spring emerged.  However, it was also a strength in that during the time he lived he was immortal in a way that surpassed even a god.  Cut his head off, burn his body, blast him with lightning, freeze him solid, none of it mattered and he would return in less than a day, completely healed.

    The Green Knight had proposed a pact to the US government. They could call on his aid in exchange for providing him with a small out-of-the-way place where he could tend his garden and wait.  Exactly what he was waiting for he hadn¡¯t revealed, but the USA was desperate for any edge they could gain and had agreed.  So far they had only needed to ask his aid once, and that had been enough to prove his power, and to scare quite a few people.  Any event that ended with a ¡®tree of corpses¡¯ was one that any sane person took note of.

    They still weren¡¯t sure why he had settled in America rather than Britain, which was supposedly his homeland, given he was intertwined with Arthurian legend, but since it was to their benefit they weren¡¯t complaining.

    ¡°Okay, make sure your branch keeps an eye on him.  If there are any changes in his behaviour then let me know at once.¡±

    As he watched the agent nod and leave director Henricks mulled over what had happened.

    Herne¡¯s disappearance was serious, but not crippling.  Still, they needed to find out where he¡¯d gone.  As part of a campaign to reassure their citizens that the government had at least some control over the situation after the Black Sun, the deal between Herne and the government had been widely popularised in various media across the country.  Knowing that a god was backing them against the likes of monsters and rogue demigods had done wonders for the public calm.  But now . . .

    Herne was now linked with the USA, and if he caused problems in other countries it could lead to a diplomatic nightmare.

    The director massaged his forehead and tried to think of what his next move should be.  His agents were competent, so he didn¡¯t have to micromanage them.  What he had to do was coordinate this with the other departments, and make sure they didn¡¯t end up getting in each other¡¯s way.

    Oh, and he had to let the President know.  yeah, that was going to be fun.

    Letting out a sigh he reached for his desk¡¯s phone.  No point in putting this off.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°An oracle?¡±

    Hadriel asked the question as she looked at Lady Joan as she stood in the doorway to the dining area.

    ¡°Yes.  I believe there are at least two members of the choir of the principalities upon the mortal plane.  Is that not correct?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, one of them was a part of the wing I was attached to before being reassigned to aiding our charge.¡± The red-winged angel confirmed. ¡°But an oracle is no simple matter, depending upon what knowledge you seek the costs in power can be exhausting.¡±

    What Hadriel said was something of an understatement.  Principalities were angels of time and blessings, well respected in the heavenly ranks for the support they could offer their allies, but normally kept away from the field of battle due to their lack of combat power.  In times past they had been the educators of early humanity, teaching the mortals what they needed to know to survive outside of Eden.  In the new age that had come after the Black Sun, they had become healers and supporters to their fellow warriors of heaven.  However, that was not the limit of their powers.

    As angels of time, they possessed a small fraction of their creator¡¯s boundless omniscience, the ability to see beyond the currents of the present and into the past or even the future.  It was not a power to be used casually though, for the future was jealous of its secrets.  In every culture around the world prophets and oracles were special existences, and often they were dogged by as much tragedy as they were prestige.  Angels of the choir of principalities went beyond that, and were able to summon up visions or knowledge from the future at will.  The cost though, could be ruinous for them if pushed too far.

    ¡°Allow me to confirm, the cost upon the angel casting the oracle grows the more far-reaching and accurate the oracle needs to be, correct?¡±

    Hadriel nodded, pleased that the resurrected soul at least had some idea of what she was asking for.  The warrior angel could see why she would ask for such a boon, there were very few circumstances in the world where knowledge of the future would not be a valuable asset.  However, the principalities were not ones to use such power on a whim, they needed good reasons to push themselves so far.

    ¡°Then could you send them a request for an answer to a question?¡±

    ¡°I cannot promise an answer, but I shall ask.  What would you have them use their power upon?¡±

    The angel was curious.  The resurrected saint was no fool, so she would not be asking for the answer to some frivolous query.  But a more important and informative question might be more than the descended principalities might be willing to drain themselves to answer.

    ¡°Where can Adam best help.¡±

    Hadriel waited, staring at the saint as she did so.  When no further detail was forthcoming the crimson-winged angel could only blink in surprise.

    ¡°Is that all?¡±

    Where was the rest of it, the need for a time, a place, an objective?  She was asking for an oracle to aid their charge, and a demigod acknowledged by the Almighty Himself, that could not be the entirety of her question.

    ¡°Oui.¡± The saint nodded. ¡°I do not seek a specific oracle, no great question.  I merely wish for a starting point, a place Adam can work from, nothing more.  We both know that if we try to steer him according to our own preconceptions the results could be . . . unforgiving.¡±

    The angelic warrior silently nodded her head to acknowledge the point.  In creation, there were forces that even the likes of gods and angels had to yield to.  Fate and Destiny were among them, forces that fought against being controlled, forces that tended to trample those that stood in their way.

    The problem was that for all their power Destiny and Fate were . . . capricious, uncertain.  Having a destiny didn¡¯t make Adam invincible, it didn¡¯t mean that he couldn¡¯t dodge the wrong way and end up with an arrow in the throat at the hands of some lowly thug.  Yet, at the same time, it also meant that if a god or higher power tried to force him down a path they had contrived then chance and luck would turn on them and punish them even as their plans fell apart.  There were none, save for the Almighty Himself, who truly understood the twisting rules of predestination, and He was not offering them to anyone.

    ¡°So, you intend to follow, not lead?¡±

    Hadriel posed the question, even though she was already certain of the saint¡¯s answer.  Sure enough, Joan simply nodded.

    ¡°It is not our place to point Adam down any path.  We are merely at his side to ensure he has aid when he stumbles.  Will you be able to ask if the oracle can be called?¡±

    When the reborn soul had first asked for an oracle, the angel had been . . . sceptical of the practicalities.  In her, admittedly limited experience, foretellings of the future were always about gaining more information, more details, more control

    This request of the saints was different.  Its vagueness, its simplicity, the utter lack of details . . . it all might make it an unusually inexpensive oracle to cast.

    Yes.  The thought firmed in her mind as she contemplated it more.  Such a simple question might be more easily answered by one of the Principalities.  It would still cost them, but it would be nowhere as taxing as a more detailed request would be.  Not like the more tactical predictions they regularly had to make in order to keep the ranks of the High Heavens ahead of the denizens of the Pits.

    With very slight amusement she realized that some of them might be willing to cast this oracle simply for the novelty of working with such a vague request.  To them, it would be akin to being asked to slay a feral housecat after years of being forced to face raging lions.  Such a relatively easy task might be accomplished simply to see what sorts of results it might yield.

    ¡°Very well,¡± She agreed. ¡°I shall send your request later this evening when I contact my fellow angels once more.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, honoured Hadriel.¡±  The French saint inclined her head in a respectful nod. ¡°This shall be of great aid, I am sure.  Now, we should discuss what our-¡±

    Anything else Joan of Arc might have been about to say was cut off by a world-shaking crash from outside.  Literally world shaking, since all around them ornaments, furniture and decorations all rattled as though the farmhouse had been hit by an earthquake.

    ¡°YEAH!  THAT¡¯S WHAT I¡¯M TALKING ABOUT!¡±

    The exhilarated and pleased shout came from outside, and the saint and the angel exchanged looks as they headed out to see what the commotion was.

 Chapter 5: Progress: Part Two

    Chapter 5: Progress: Part Two

    After Emma had left, I¡¯d found myself at a bit of a loose end.  Athena¡¯s presence now hung over me like a storm cloud, a shoe waiting to drop.

    In the end, I¡¯d decided that the best way to deal with the unwelcomed feeling of pressure was to get stronger.  I had power now, if I wanted to be able to be more than just a victim then I had to get better with it.  Sure, I didn¡¯t expect to be able to stand up to a goddess any time soon, but, as the saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles always starts with a single step.

    My sparring match with Joan had shown me that even though I¡¯d managed to push through some sort of bottleneck during my fight with Etienne I was still had plenty of room to grow and better myself.  That meant that there¡¯d probably be more bottlenecks to get through, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to break them by sitting on my ass.

    Outside, at a nice clear spot in the white field, I tried to meditate, to feel the world around me.  I could feel the earth, air, water, light, shadows and the myriad of other elements and forces that made it up.  I knew I was stronger now, but I wasn¡¯t sure how to push that strength, how to make it work.  Against both Etienne and Joan, all I¡¯d really done was use a larger and more forceful version of the stuff I was already doing.  Hotter fire, more ice, bigger rocks, larger lightning bolts, it was a step in the right direction, I was sure, but it wasn¡¯t . . . complete.

    I needed to do something else, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn¡¯t pin down the nebulous idea that was floating around in my head.  Frustrated I called out my halo and used my magic to draw up a boulder from the soil, a big one, one that made me work to get it out.  Since I wasn¡¯t trying to throw it around or change its shape, I was able to go for maximum size, and the result was taller than me and almost as wide around.

    For a moment I wondered where it had come from.  Had it always been buried there, and my magic just pulled it up?  Had it been from my magic, soil just being transmuted?  The thoughts flitted through my head, but then I decided I just didn¡¯t care.  I could experiment later, but at that moment I had other things on my mind.

    The first thing I¡¯d done was to try to lift the boulder with telekinesis, just to see if I could.  It was a good test, seeing how strong one of my go-to powers had grown.  Before my fight with Etienne, my TK had been strong enough to lift a moderately sized tree trunk.  It hadn¡¯t been easy, but I could do it.  I wasn¡¯t sure how that compared to the boulder I was using, but I was sure it was much heavier.

    I felt the pressure in my mind and in my body, the feeling of my power fighting against the weight of the rock.  It wasn¡¯t exactly like using my muscles, straining them against the pull of gravity, but there was some similarity.

    I pressed harder, pushing more of my power into my effort.  Slowly the boulder rose, centimetre by centimetre, inch by inch.  I could feel a slight pain starting at the top of my head, along with an ache near to my heart where I knew my new core to be.  Neither was too intense though, and I kept pushing, determined to see how far I could manage.

    In the end, I didn¡¯t get much further than a foot, then I had to let it go.  The thump that ran through the earth as the boulder thudded back into place left no doubts as to its sheer weight.  I had to guess it was several tonnes at the least.

    Releasing it also made the pressure inside me to subside, but it left behind . . . something.  Not quite a pain, but was a discomfort.  It took me a moment to make the connection, but once it did I could only grin.  After a good workout, muscles could feel sore, a sign they had been pushed and were growing stronger.  What I felt inside me didn¡¯t feel anything like that, but even so, there was also a similarity, something that instinctively told me that I¡¯d pushed my inner magical systems and that they were growing from it.

    The grin still plastered on my face I reached out with my hands and shoved against the boulder.  It was just a whim, a way of confirming to myself that the stone was as heavy and solid as it should have been, that my magic really was that powerful.

    I wasn¡¯t expecting the multi-ton boulder to move.

    Sure, it was just a tiny bit of give, but it left me staring at my hands, then the rock, in stunned awe.  I hadn¡¯t braced myself or anything, just shoved the stone without thinking.  Even if I was strong enough to move it, I should have just been shoved back, my own weight insignificant against it, regardless of my strength.

    But I¡¯d done it, I had felt it shift!

    Immediately my mind started running a mile a minute.  Was I really that strong?  Was this some unconscious application of my TK?  Was the boulder lighter than I thought?  My thoughts chased each other around my skull like bees trapped in a jam jar.

    I¡¯d poked at the boulder, squatted down to see where it had thumped back into the ground, and tried to pry out stones from underneath it.  It all proved that the rock was still as heavy as I thought it should be, a massive weight that would normally have taken heavy machinery to move.

    But I had moved it, I was completely sure!

    That led me to try to recreate what had happened.  Shoving against the boulder in an attempt to shift it again.  The only problem was that it wasn¡¯t cooperating.  Even though I strained against it, shoved it as hard as I could, and heaved against it with my whole body, I couldn¡¯t get it to rock back that tiny bit like I had before.

    As I tried, I felt a pressure building up in me, but not one that had anything to do with my earlier magical efforts.  Instead, it was born of frustration, an anger that I couldn¡¯t figure out just what I was capable of.  I should have known, should have been able to understand everything I could do just like the other demigods.  Instead, I was flawed, fumbling in the dark as I tried to make sense of each aspect of my divine blood as it emerged.

    I was frustrated, angry, and feeling increasingly overwhelmed as my situation got more and more complicated.  This latest complication with my powers wasn¡¯t the straw that broke the camel''s back, but it was enough to make it strain.  I needed some way to vent, to release that pent-up frustration, so I went with what probably wasn¡¯t my best idea.

    I punched the boulder as hard as I could.

    The instant my knuckles connected with the stone I knew that I was screwing up.  Skin and bones versus who knew how many tonnes of stone, you didn¡¯t need to be a genius to predict the outcome.  I¡¯d thrown the punch due to a cocktail of frustration that needed venting, a leftover rush from my earlier success with TK, and a mad hope that something would happen.  Rational judgment hadn¡¯t really entered the picture.

    I was already wincing as I felt the impact, anticipating the pain I was sure was coming when I felt . . . nothing?

    Then I felt something, but it wasn¡¯t what I expected.  Rather than feeling pain shoot up my arm I felt something give against my skin.  To my stunned shock, I saw the boulder where I¡¯d hit break and crumble.  Sure, it wasn¡¯t a big or deep crater, barely more than a shallow indentation really, but it had really happened.

    It took me a few seconds to wrap my head around what I was seeing.  Yes, I¡¯d known I had power, I knew I could take a hit, but it had always seemed as though my speciality seemed to lie in magic for distance attacks, battlefield manipulation, that sort of thing.  I¡¯d been hoping for a boost to my physical stuff, strength, speed, agility and the like, but with my wings and my flight, it had become less important.

    In that moment though . . . it suddenly seemed a lot more important.  I swung at the stone again, this time with my left fist.  My knuckles hit home, and I felt the impact, but once more there was no pain, and once more it was the rock that broke, rather than my flesh and bones.  Again and again, I swung, taking childish pleasure in how each of my blows left noticeable marks and cracks in the rock that looked like the work of a sledgehammer.

    I wasn¡¯t too sure how long I just kept pounding away at it, using solid stone as a punching bag, but I was brought out of my adrenaline-fuelled elation by a familiar burning in my arms and shoulders.  I took a step back, staring at the dented and defaced surface of the boulder before me and letting my halo shift out of existence once more.

    ¡°So, was it everything you thought it would be?¡±

    The unexpected question made me start, though I managed to keep a surprised yelp from escaping my throat.  I spun in place, and even though there was resistance from my wings I was able to instinctively compensate.  To my surprise I saw Kali coming up behind me, her walk more of a saunter as she drew nearer.

    She wore mostly the same stuff as earlier in the day but had swapped her tank top for a t-shirt, one just as tight as her earlier top.  Across it was written the slogan: ¡®You¡¯re reading these words, but you¡¯re thinking about what¡¯s behind them¡¯, followed by a devil smiley face that was winking out at me.

    And, just as those damned words suggested, as soon as I read them, I couldn¡¯t help but notice that the goddess had not bothered to wear anything under the t-shirt.  Its tightness was making that perfectly clear.  My calm wasn¡¯t helped by the fact that Kali moved in a way that would have made a model on a catwalk green with envy.  Casual and confident, and hot, hot, hot!

    Damn it, the thought ran through my head as I did my best not to stare like an idiot, it had really been too long since I had any sort of romance.

    I think it was the odd normality of the thought that I¡¯d gone too long without romance, that managed to ground me.   Taking a deep breath, both to centre myself and because I needed it after going crazy on the boulder, I offered my best smile.

    ¡°Good afternoon.  What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± She grinned, waving at the boulder as she got nearer. ¡°I could hear you waling on that hunk of rock from the farm.  No one goes crazy on something like that unless they¡¯ve got a lot to vent.  So . . . did it work for you?¡±

    The way she was right on point was just a bit . . . disturbing.  Was I that easy to read?  So I just nodded dumbly.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Yeah, thought so,¡± Kali commented, walking by me to poke at the boulder where two of my impacts overlapped. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got some strength going for you.  That¡¯s cool, I thought you were more of a sorcerer type though.  You know, throwing fireballs and lightning at your enemies.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± I admitted. ¡°I know I¡¯m tougher.  If I wasn¡¯t then Etienne would have smashed me.  But there hasn¡¯t been any real sign of me being stronger.  This kinda caught me by surprise.¡±

    The goddess grinned at me again, with that slightly predatory smile I¡¯d noticed earlier.

    ¡°Maybe, but aren¡¯t you glad?  Having magic is great, I¡¯ve got some of my own, but sometimes it''s way better just to be able to hit something with your bare hands and feel it break under them.¡±

    To emphasize her words her flattened left hand slapped down on the stone beside her . . . and I couldn¡¯t help but wince as the rock caved in under her flesh, leaving a clear hand-shaped crater in the side of the boulder.  I¡¯d been repeatedly smashing that thing as hard as I could, and the best I¡¯d managed was some dents.  Kali had done more than double that with a single slap, and it was obvious she hadn¡¯t been putting much effort into it.

    ¡°Y-yeah, sure,¡± I did my best to keep my words even but stumbled slightly, my eyes still kept being drawn back to the handprint in the stone. ¡°Guess it makes for a good option to have.¡±

    I paused for a moment, then looked down at my hands.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how easy it¡¯ll be to control though,¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯ve got enough trouble with my new wings, how am I meant to handle getting this strong?  I¡¯m pretty sure the only reason I haven¡¯t broken anything by accident yet is that I haven¡¯t had too much chance to handle anything, not with all that¡¯s been going on.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t planning to be throwing punches all over the place, but if that was how strong they were, then what about other things, like my grip or kicks?  I could see myself going for a handshake and crushing someone¡¯s fingers.  Or breaking someone¡¯s leg by colliding with them in the wrong way.

    ¡°Well, I can help you with that, at least some.¡±

    I looked up at the Hindu goddess, who just added a conspiratorial wink to that smile of hers.

    ¡°Come on, I want you to hit this guy again,¡± Her knuckle tapped on the boulder. ¡°But this time no holding back, got me?  I wanna see all that you¡¯ve got, understand?¡±

    For a moment I considered asking more questions but then shrugged.  Kali was a goddess, and I knew that in terms of power, she probably outclassed me the way a shark did a trout.

    The punch I drove into the boulder packed all the force I could manage.  I put everything I could into it, my weight, my strength, my speed, all of it using what little I knew of how to brawl.  Stone caved in under my fist, not as much as Kali¡¯s palm print, but more than my earlier attempts.  This time I felt the impact run up from my knuckles to my shoulder.  It didn¡¯t quite hurt, but I could tell it wasn¡¯t something I could handle doing too many times.

    ¡°Not bad, to start with.¡±

    As she inspected the latest dent in the rock and made her comment, I could see her face growing thoughtful.  Her fingers ran over the edges of the impact, then she turned to look at me.

    ¡°Come here, let''s get a look at your hand.¡±

    Before I knew it, she¡¯d stepped up next to me, seized my wrist and brought it up so close to her face that she could probably see my fingerprints without issue.  Kali¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she glared at my hand as though it had somehow offended her.  To my surprise, she drew it closer to her and . . . sniffed it.

    I was so shocked that I took a step back, or at least tried to.  Her grip on my wrist might as well have been a steel manacle, and she could have been a beached battleship for all the impact my attempt had on her.  However, when her tongue flicked out and licked along the edge of my palm, I wasn¡¯t going to stay quiet any longer.

    ¡°Hey!  HEY!  What¡¯re you doing?!¡±

    She looked up at me, blinking as though she¡¯d just woken up.

    ¡°Oh?  Oh, sorry,¡± She shook her head as though to get rid of cobwebs. ¡°I . . . I got a bit too into that, trying to work out your strength.¡±

    She let go of my wrist and stepped back.

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± She looked a little embarrassed as she leaned against the boulder. ¡°I¡¯m not big on the whole ¡®sensing the unseen¡¯ thing when it comes to magic.  Blood and destruction, that¡¯s where I shine, but I can get something, the problem is I get it all as mostly taste and smell, y¡¯know?¡±

    Ohhhhkay.  I¡¯ll admit that that threw me for a bit of a loop.  To me, magic was something that I could sense so easily it was practically its own sense.  I could reach out with my power and sense its strength, its vitality, its colour.  Sure, I was still learning what meant what, or how some powers interacted with each other, but that was coming fast.  The idea of it being interpreted in other ways hadn¡¯t really occurred to me, but now it seemed so obvious.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on with you . . . it¡¯s something new to me.  I mean, I can tell what¡¯s happening, sorta, but I¡¯ve never actually seen it happen before.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    I asked it with burning curiosity, and maybe some hope.  If she could work out anything about how I was . . . wrong, then maybe I could work on fixing it.

    ¡°Okay, it¡¯s like this,¡± Kali began, gesturing to my arm. ¡°There¡¯s lots of ways for someone to get greater strength.  Sometimes it¡¯s getting denser muscle mass, sometimes the quality of your body is improved, most often it''s something like magic or divine power reinforcing everything to make you stronger.  With the strongest it¡¯s combos working together, that¡¯s how you get guys like Rama or Heracles, demigods that manage to match or even beat gods.

    ¡°You . . . it''s weird.  I can¡¯t be sure, not unless you let me taste some of your blood, but I think I¡¯ve got it.  You¡¯re not . . . finished, y¡¯know?  I can tell you¡¯ve got channels in you, tiny ones that go to your muscles, bones and tendons.  They aren¡¯t part of your regular mana system, they¡¯re meant to channel power to permanently reinforce and strengthen you.  You¡¯ve also got . . . gaps in your flesh.  Not physical gaps, but like space in your lifeforce, your existence.¡±

    She grimaced a bit, one hand coming to wave at the air about her.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not really explaining this well.  Look, it¡¯s like this, you¡¯re all primed for a bunch of stuff, and I mean lots.  It¡¯s like you¡¯ve hit the freakin¡¯ jackpot with divine powers, understand?  I don¡¯t just mean magic, you¡¯re also primed for all kinds of physical gifts, intuitive skills, transformations, the works.  The problem is that it¡¯s all . . . stalled partway.  You¡¯ve got all the hardware there, the structures and pathways are all there, in your body, in your magic, all the way down to your soul.  The thing is that none of it has run to its final conclusion, y¡¯know?

    ¡°What you¡¯ve done with sparking your magic is a major step forward.  It¡¯s got things going and power is now trickling into the channels that were made for it.  Physical changes are getting the kickstart they need to finish what was started.¡±

    ¡°So, I just have to wait?  Is it all going to get fixed on its own?¡±

    That sounded almost too good to be true, so I knew there had to be another shoe to drop.

    ¡°Well, yeah.  The problem is that you¡¯re looking at something like years before it''s all done on its own.¡± Kali explained. ¡°If you just leave it all passive, just trickling in as it goes, it¡¯ll be ages before you¡¯re at what you could be.  Don¡¯t worry though, I know how to help you speed that up.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± The one word was the whole of my question, nothing more was needed.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just let your power sit there and wait, just dripping to where it should be.  You¡¯ve got to make it move, get it flowing, get it under pressure, get it roiling through you until it''s forced to seep into the gaps waiting for it.  more than that though, you¡¯ve got to direct it once you¡¯ve got it moving, that¡¯s the best way to get the most out of it.  if you do it right, well, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ll get some results pretty soon.¡±

    That . . . that made sense!  My thoughts were racing along as I tried to understand what she¡¯d said, but it all made so much sense.  Both times that I¡¯d made breakthroughs with my power had been during high-stakes situations.   That parasite, Etienne, both times I¡¯d been frantically pulling at my power, trying to drag out every bit of force and control I could muster, and both times I¡¯d managed to . . . level up?  It was a weird way to think of it, but it was oddly appropriate.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I nodded to her. ¡°So, where do we go from here?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have to do some serious sparring,¡± She explained. ¡°And I¡¯m not talking about that friendly stuff you¡¯ve been doing with god-girl and the angel.  I mean the heavy-duty type where you¡¯ll be walking away with broken bones almost every day!¡±

    There was something distinctly predatory tinge to her smile now, a tiny hint of the bloodlust that I¡¯d seen earlier in her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much,¡± She said, seeing my reaction. ¡°Joan has some pretty potent healing, so she¡¯ll be able to get you up and running again, especially once we¡¯ve boosted up your vitality to help her.  It¡¯s gonna be tough, but it¡¯ll also be fun.¡±

    I was absolutely sure that the one that would be having the majority of that fun wasn¡¯t going to be me.  Still, it wasn¡¯t as though I could turn her down.  Any chance to get my power back to where it should be was something to be grabbed with both hands.  Something of my firming resolution must have shown on my face because Kali¡¯s grin shifted again.

    ¡°Hey, wanna see how hard you can hit me?¡±

    The goddess leaned back against the boulder, her figure relaxed as she looked at me.  Well, maybe relaxed wasn¡¯t the right way to describe her.  Her posture reminded me of a cat that had just stumbled across a nice big ball of yarn.

    ¡°What?¡±

    The question seemed to come out of nowhere and left me more than a bit confused.

    ¡°Yeah, hit me as hard as you can.  I want to see what you can do when you¡¯re not swinging at a lump of rock.  Come on, gimme your best.¡±

    Kali had pushed off the boulder now and was drawing closer.  Her movements were every bit as effortlessly graceful and sensual as before, but now there was a definite undercurrent to them, one that spoke of blood and violence.

    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t you wanna see just what you can do?  What you¡¯re really capable of?¡±

    I was all too aware that this was a goddess I was dealing with.  She leaned in, getting into my personal space in an invasive movement.  I could practically feel her body heat, her closeness, her presence, it was all but intoxicating.

    The last time I¡¯d felt anything like this was when my last girlfriend and had been at a nightclub, the air hot, the music blaring, red lights lighting up the room and both of us hopped up on adrenalin, hormones and several shots.  We¡¯d danced together, practically grinding our bodies against each other as lust and excitement intoxicated us as much as alcohol.  The rest of the night had been . . . fun to say the least, but that moment in the club had been the hottest and most sexual time I¡¯d ever had out of my bed.

    Yet just by getting close Kali was coming dangerously close to matching it simply through sheer presence.

    Yeah, I was scared.

    I was also surprisingly turned on!

    I just knew that if this kept up, I was going to need therapy in the coming years.

    Taking a step back I broke the closeness between us.  Yes, that meant I was the one who blinked first, but I liked to think I was smarter than to play chicken with a deity.  I might get stronger in the future, but right now it was me against a twelve-wheeled cargo truck while I was riding a tricycle, and I was smart enough to know my odds and not let pride get in the driver¡¯s seat.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure I won¡¯t hurt you?¡±

    I didn¡¯t really mean it, I said it more as a way to make a bit more space between us.  Kali seemed to see that, but she leaned back slightly rather than trying to get in close again, seemingly content with her small victory.

    ¡°Kid, you could drop a nuke on me, and it¡¯d just give me a sunburn.  You¡¯re going to be powerful one day, but right now there¡¯s literally nothing you can do that¡¯ll hurt me.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m twenty-one, not a kid.¡±

    As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to snatch them back, it had sounded so childish and petulant.  Damn it, I was all over the place, I needed to get a better grip on.

    ¡°Adam, I¡¯m more than five thousand years old.  To me, everyone born after Christ got nailed to his cross is a kid.¡±

    She said it, and just for a single split second I could feel all the weight of her time radiating from her.  Years, centuries, millennia, they all rested on her like snow on a mountain, yet they also stood behind her like soldiers behind their commander.  They weighed her down, but they also served her, they didn¡¯t make her bow.

    Then the instant was over, and the goddess was back to seeming only a handful of years older than me.  Still, I knew what I¡¯d seen.

    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s give it a go.  It¡¯ll let me get a good idea of where we¡¯re starting from.¡± Kali stepped further back and spread her arms, as though she were inviting me in for a hug. ¡°Gimme the best you¡¯ve got, don¡¯t go holding back on me!¡±

    Her grin was a mixture of eagerness and hunger, with a tinge of craziness mixed in on the side.  She wanted this; it was written so clearly that a blind man could have seen it.  A fight, a challenge, just simple conflict, it didn¡¯t matter.  This was what she revelled in.  This was where she lived!

    And I wasn¡¯t dumb enough to disagree with her, not when she was this clearly into it.

    Clenching my right fist, I did my best to centre myself again, tried to feel the power inside me, tried to add it to my muscles, my bones, my fist.  Then . . . I swung for just below her ribcage as hard as I could.

 Chapter 6: Help Incoming: Part One

    Chapter 6: Help Incoming: Part One

    The punch hit Kali with enough force to shatter a mortal ribcage and pulp the organs within.  Not nearly enough to hurt her though.

    Violence wasn¡¯t just Kali¡¯s duty, it was her domain, her life, the very air she breathed.  She had no talents for anything else, not really.  She had been conceived for war and slaughter, and though she tried to keep a tight rein on her bloodlust, violence was never far from her thoughts.

    Kali felt the demigod¡¯s knuckles dig into her skin as his blow struck home.  It wasn¡¯t a bad effort for an opening, enough to drive her back a step, since she hadn¡¯t bothered to set herself.

    The Hindu goddess felt her grin widen as Adam fell back a few steps himself, opening distance between them, his wings half folding at his sides, their undersides facing the ground as she tensed.  Good, he wasn¡¯t just going to stand there after she took his punch, he was going to get ready, remembering that this wasn¡¯t just her taking his attack to see what he could do.

    This was a sparring match.

    ¡°My turn.¡±

    She didn¡¯t use anywhere near her full speed or strength, but she still closed the distance between them before Adam could react.  Her fist came up, finding her target in more or less the same place that he¡¯d hit her.  Unlike her though he couldn¡¯t tank her blow.  Adam folded up around her fist as she kept pushing, then flew backwards as the force finished transmitting into his body.  He hit the ground, rolled a few times then came to a stop, a cloud of dust kicked into the summer air as his wings flopped down around him.

    For a moment he just lay there, then with surprising speed, he heaved himself up, finding his way onto legs that, though unsteady, still supported him.

    Good, Kali felt her grin turn less feral and more pleased.  It looked like Adam really did have some backbone to him.  The punch she¡¯d hit him with had been strong enough to kill a normal person, but she¡¯d known he was tougher than that.  Still, she hadn¡¯t expected him to get up quite so readily.

    The goddess¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched her charge¡¯s halo appear above him in a series of metallic snaps and pops.  She¡¯d thought that she had a decent grasp on how strong he was, so that should have let her gauge his durability as well.  With demigods, there was normally a balance that existed as their physical abilities developed.  Durability naturally came with strength so that the demigod didn¡¯t shatter their own bones or tear their ligaments with their new brawn, just as strength grew as the body became tougher.  Reflexes and agility increased as senses became keener, just as senses sharpened to account for increased speed and dexterity.

    Adam seemed . . . off, unbalanced.  His durability and strength were out of harmony.  That wasn¡¯t too unexpected.  Rama had been a demigod strong enough to lift Shiva¡¯s bow, yet he had still been partly vulnerable to mortal weapons.  Karna had been strong, but his greatest asset had been the golden armour he was born with, an armour that made him all but invulnerable.  Western mythology had other heroes whose resistance to harm outstripped their strength, such as Achilles or Siegfried, so it was not as though there were no precedents.

    The problem was that this didn¡¯t feel like that to her.  This wasn¡¯t a specialisation, rather it was an aberration.  Adam¡¯s recovery and growth were incorrect, lopsided, and that was something she was going to have to deal with at some point.

    Right now, she had other concerns though.

    She¡¯d given her charge enough time to recover, it wouldn¡¯t be any fun if she let the fight¡¯s tempo drop.  With her feral grin back Kali closed in again, using the same speed and the same strength as before.  She even swung at the same place on his torso, wanting to see how he adapted.

    And she wasn¡¯t disappointed.  Adam threw himself backwards, his flight pushing him faster than his muscles could, and his wings snapped shut around him, their hardened outer feathers coming between him and the goddess like a pair of oversized shields.

    Good.  It wasn¡¯t so much that he was reacting faster as it was that he was taking the right actions to buy himself the time he needed.  Her fist slammed into the wings, but because he was already retreating some of her blow force was bled off.  Still, the impact accelerated him backwards again, though this time he managed to stay on his feet as he came down, though he did have to frantically stumble backwards to do it.

    ¡°Nice, but you can do better.¡±

    She was on him again, faster this time, giving him less time to gather himself.  He managed to turn this time as she swung, dodging the main force of the attack.  He didn¡¯t come away unscathed, the force of what clipped him enough to send him spinning.  But as he did so he was able to counterattack for the first time, his left wing coming down in a chop, the sharpened feathers as deadly as a descending guillotine¡¯s edge.

    Well, they would have been if she had been mortal anyway.

    Her right arm came up in a lazy blocking motion, and the sword-like feathers stopped as though they¡¯d run into the armour plating of a mainline tank.  Still, she wanted to play the part, so Kali let herself stumble back slightly, as though the force were greater than it was.

    Adam took advantage with decent speed, twisting to face her even as he moved back and up, taking to the air as he tried to open more distance.  For all her power she didn¡¯t have any direct flight abilities, not that it mattered really, not when she was capable of jumping over tall buildings if she wanted to.  It had been a good move though, and she rewarded it with another couple of seconds of hesitation before she went after him again.

    Her charge hadn¡¯t used those seconds only to retreat though.  His hands had been cupped before him, colourless energy gathering and condensing into a swirling mass the size of an orange.  Just as she spotted it, he released the mass of energy, firing it at her like a shot from a cannon.

    Kali could have dodged it, but she restrained herself, keeping to the limits she¡¯d set herself as this match began.  While keeping to them she wasn¡¯t able to get completely out of the way, but like Adam, she was able to turn it from a direct hit into a glancing blow.

    She let herself stumble back a few steps before catching her balance.  All in all, it hadn¡¯t been a bad attack.  It certainly packed more power than his barehanded punch, but it wasn¡¯t enough, not to end this match.  Adam was more than twenty feet up in the air now and gathering more power for another bolt of that colourless magic.  Good, he wasn¡¯t letting up.  Still, she couldn¡¯t let him win that easily.

    Her legs tensed under her, then launched her upwards, the ground she¡¯d standing on caving in under the force of her leap.  Her charge just had time to widen his eyes in surprise before she slammed into him, a knee digging into his stomach even as her hands grabbed at his shoulders for purchase.  The air left his lungs in a coughing gasp, but to his credit, he managed to hold onto the energy he¡¯d gathered.

    Well, she was going to see if he could keep that up.  In a single brutal motion, she drove her head forward, slamming her forehead into his with as much force as she could while keeping within her limits.

    In a real fight, a headbutt was usually only used against an enemy¡¯s nose, at least as long as it was executed properly.  Slamming your skull against someone else¡¯s was a move of desperation, given that it normally hurt the user just as much as the target.  As a master of the art of violence, Kali was well aware of this, but she also knew that with supernatural combatants the rules changed.

    Her head was tougher than Adam¡¯s so she could take it, but he couldn¡¯t.

    They fell from the sky in a spiralling tumble.  Her charge winced in pain and his eyes unfocused as the collision of their skulls had scattered his wits.  At the last moment, Kali brought up her boots, pressed the soles to Adam¡¯s chest, and kicked off in an acrobatic flip that would have made gold medallists weep with envy.  As the demigod came crashing down the Hindu goddess landed as perfectly poised as a dancer on a stage.

    ¡°Come on Adam,¡± She began to circle the slumped form of the winged man as he tried to rise once more. ¡°You can do better than that.  You know you¡¯re stronger, smarter than this.  Come on!  You fought that monster in the woods, did you really beat it like this?  By just blindly messing around with your power?¡±

    She got her answer as a spherical shield flaring out around her charge.  It started close to his form, but spread out in a rush, doubling in size again and again in less than a second.  Kali saw it coming but couldn¡¯t react fast enough without breaking the limits she¡¯d set herself for this match.  As it reached its full size the spherical shield slammed into her like a runaway train.

    This time she wasn¡¯t able to brace herself and the impact sent her flying back.  She landed on the grass and dirt with an audible thump, but even as dust rose up around her from the impact she smiled.

    ¡°Better.¡±

    She was on her feet in a second, a move that looked oddly like breakdancing helping her flip upright in a single movement.  In that time Adam was already retreating again, his hands out towards her, his fingers tensed into claws.  Kali had just enough time to wonder what he was doing before dirt erupted on either side of her and hands made of stone reached up to grab at her legs and ankles.

    Okay, not bad.  The goddess was able to break free easily enough but it still took time.  Time her charge was able to use to open more room and prepare another attack.  Stalling her had been the right move, rather than immediately lashing out since it bought him more time.

    Kali was starting to get a better feel for how the young demigod thought and fought.  He looked to be a bit too much of a thinker, not relying on instinct and reflex enough.  Still, they could work on that.

    The last of the rock hands gripping her broke apart and she was moving again.  Grinning savagely, she grabbed one of the remnants of the stone arms in each of her hands, then threw them straight at Adam with as much force as she could within her limits.

    Her projectiles struck the shield like cannonballs, and she saw the sphere flicker and shrink after each impact, the power draining as it resisted the impacts.  Not wasting a second she was tearing after them, her boots digging craters into the ground as she forced herself forward.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The shield cracked as she slammed herself into it, her very body being used as a battering ram as she leapt at Adam.  The sphere of protective power buckled and cracked, but still held, keeping her away from him.

    Kali was in her element, feeling the blood start to sing in her veins.

    Her fingers dug into the shield, nails that looked like they¡¯d just been manicured clawed into the colourless energy, finding purchase, keeping her from falling.  Feeling her face spreading into a wild grin she swung with her other arm, hammering her fist into the shield again and again.

    Through it the Hindu goddess could see Adam¡¯s face crease in concentration as the shield healed, but it was already too late.  The protective sphere broke, and Kali came through like a wolf into a chicken coop, teeth bared as she swung at Adam once more.

    One of his wings folded in front of him, taking the blow and saving him, though the impact still drove him back and down to the ground.  Her smile grew as she kicked off the fading remnants of the shield, driving herself towards the demigod once more.

    Was she using too much strength?  Was she breaking her earlier self-imposed limit?  She wasn¡¯t sure, but at that moment she didn¡¯t really care.  This was the most fun she¡¯d had in months!  Since fully regaining her divinity things had been boring, every fight too easily won, every exhilaration left hollow by her effortlessness.  This . . . this was fun!

    She moved to charge again, only to be met by an oncoming torrent of flames.  But flames such as these couldn¡¯t harm her!  They were little more than an annoyance.

    Her bull rush continued, her form charging through the flames as though they were nothing more than the air from a heating fan in winter.  Not even her clothes were singed as she burst through the last of the fire . . . only to see that Adam was no longer in front of her.

    She just had time to blink before another bolt of colourless energy slammed into her from the side.  This time she wasn¡¯t braced for it, this time she was off balance and the sheer kinetic force of the impact took her off her feet and sent her tumbling to the ground.  Quickly she got to her feet, a small part of her impressed by Adam¡¯s efforts.

    That assault of fire hadn¡¯t been meant to hurt her, it had just been meant to stall and blind her!  Behind it, the young demigod had been preparing, then moved to the side in an explosive rush even as she pushed through his flames.  That hadn¡¯t been all he¡¯d managed though.  He¡¯d also been able to pull together another one of those arcana blasts, one strong enough to take advantage of catching her by surprise.

    This was fun.  This was fun!  THIS WAS FUN!!!

    Her control slipped.  It was not by much, but for a moment the power she¡¯d been keeping down escaped the leash she¡¯d tied about it in her mind and lashed out.  Darkness and Destruction were tools that had always served her well, and they responded to her instincts before she could stop them.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The Golem sensed the conflict almost immediately.

    Though it had been designed as a weapon it had still been granted additional abilities in order to excel at its task.  The manner in which it perceived the world was different from the way a mortal would.  Its eyes were glowing pits of semi-liquid metal, not organs designed to absorb and analyse light.  It had no ears on the sides of its head, only smooth metal.  It had no nose, it had no tongue, it had no nerves.  The senses of a human were as alien to it as the surface of the sun.

    Instead, it had other abilities, other senses.  One was in some ways a crude and limited version of the omniscience that some powerful gods could use.  It simply knew the shape, sound and feel of the area around itself, and that knowledge was constantly updating, remaining accurate to the millisecond.

    Another was a sensitivity to the local currents of power.  Mana, chi, magic, all of them differed in their essence, all of them as clear to the Golem as a rainbow in the sky would have been to a child.  It could sense where the energies hovered sluggishly, where they were being influenced by external forces, where they rushed if they were being drawn upon.

    Additionally, it had been forged of metal and stone, and then given life, so a link remained to these elements.  Vibrations through the ground were as clear and distinct to it as the light was to an eye, each tremor and echo serving to paint a picture in its mind to further highlight the awareness that was built from its other senses.

    It could also perceive the presence of divinity, the pressure of such power beating down upon it as potently as the summer sun shining down on a plant.  The Golem could measure that pressure, and estimate the strength and rank of the source.

    As a result, it sensed when the conflict began, and it could sense the combatants.

    One was known to it.  it belonged to the same small candle of divinity it had been sensing since it had recovered enough to ¡®think¡¯ once more.  That small spark of divine power was multi-hued and small still, though it was slowly growing.  There was power in it, but it was like a seed when compared to a flower in full blossom, a promise, an unrealised potential.

    The other source of divine power was greater in virtually every respect.  So much stronger, purer, more vital, fiercer.  Had the Golem been a poet then it could have waxed eloquently about the greater divinity for hours, if not days.

    The ancient construct had been aware of the arrival of the two new powers to the local area, but until now that had simply been background information.  Both had been powerful, enough so that they could be grave threats, but until they had become relevant their existence had carried no greater weight in the Golem¡¯s mind than a blade of grass in the field beside it.

    Now that changed.

    Until this moment there had been no impetus for the Golem to move, to act, to fight.  Its recovery had been a success in almost all regards, but the standing commands that had once driven it were among what had been lost due to its damage.

    Heat surged through it as its core roused to full wakefulness.  Across its body lines of dull orange began to glow as magic animated the construct.  Lastly, eyes that had once been little more than extinguished embers flared into life, the red shine of a forge fire kindling within them.

    The first step was accompanied by a groan of metal as limbs and joints that had been immobile for days, that had recovered from being blasted and melted, moved once more.  The earth shook slightly under the massive weight of that step, then again and again.

    Slowly at first, but then picking up speed, the Golem entered the fray once more.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Fight Kali was something like a combo of the world¡¯s worst rollercoaster and being thrown into a blender!

    I was tough, my fight with Etienne had shown me that, and I was powerful, probably more so than I¡¯d really had a handle on, but right then I was really starting to get just how far real godly powers were above me.  She was strong, she was fast, as she seemed to be everywhere at once.  She came at me so fast that all I could do was throw up anything that came to mind, no time for planning or set up, it was all just force and speed.  Fire, arcana, earth, air, all of it was thrown around so frantically I was losing track of what I was doing.

    Honestly, I think the thing that most surprised me was that I was still managing to resist, rather than just turtling behind my shield. I was just about resisting her attacks, and that was something worth noting, or so I kept telling myself.

    ¡°Come on!  Give me more!¡±

    Kali¡¯s exclamation was unsettling.  There was exhilaration there, as well as something darker, something hungry.

    ¡°Is this it?  is this the best you¡¯ve got?¡±

    I think it was the easy way she was speaking, even as she dodged fireballs, blades of wind and shards of stone.  Seeing someone talking while in the middle of such high-speed acrobatics, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it, and it made me feel as though I didn¡¯t quite have a grip on reality.

    Maybe that was why I made a mistake, why I wasn¡¯t quite fast enough.  I got distracted and didn¡¯t vary my attacks enough.  Kali must have seen an opening and slipped through.

    The punch caught me in the stomach, just above my navel.  The shield I¡¯d been maintaining while throwing as many attacks as I could, shattered like fine glass, nowhere near as strong as it would have been if I¡¯d been more focused on it.  Maybe it bled off some of the blow¡¯s force, but it certainly didn¡¯t feel like it.  I folded up over the goddess¡¯s fist like a cheap cardboard cutout.  All the air was driven from my lungs and all thoughts from my head.  On top of that, I was fairly sure I felt something crack in my torso.

    I didn¡¯t go flying back though.  My mind might have gone blank as I tried to heave air back into my lungs, but the training Joan and Hadriel had pounded into my muscles wasn¡¯t as easily scattered.  I hadn¡¯t been floating too far off the ground, and as I folded up my wings stabbed down driving into stony soil and anchoring me in place.

    This . . . turned out not to be a good move.

    I barely had time to get my thoughts together before Kali was back in my face, this time swinging a kick that came at me like a cannonball from the side.  I just didn¡¯t have time to react, the foot slammed into my upper-left arm, and I was sent spinning through the air, my wings wrenched from the ground in a shower of dirt and stone.  The world spun, and then I was crashing down again, grass rushing by, my wings awkwardly flailing, bending and folding as I rolled several times before coming to a stop.

    Still too dazed to do anything else I stared up at Kali as she stalked over to me.  The way she moved . . . for a moment even though she was on two legs there was very little that was human about it.  she made me think of a lion, or a tiger, stalking towards prey.

    Then she looked disappointed, but there was also something . . . well, ¡®thwarted¡¯ was the best word I could come up with.  Crazy as it was she reminded me of a guy that had just been about to score with some hot chick, only for someone else to swoop in and steal her at the last second.

    ¡°So . . . that¡¯s it?  That¡¯s all you¡¯ve got?¡± She sounded frustrated. ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t be expecting too much, you¡¯re young.  You¡¯ll get stronger.  Now . . . on your feet!  We¡¯ll go again!¡±

    All I could do was stare up at her.  Was she serious?  Joan and Hadriel hadn¡¯t been exactly gentle when training me, but the Hindu goddess had just thrown me around like a ragdoll!  Did she think I could do it again?

    ¡°NO!  None of that!¡± Her sharp tone cracked like a whip, cutting through whatever fog was left in my head. ¡°Get up!  Do you think you can just lie back in a fight?!  Get up now!¡±

    Somehow, I managed to struggle my way back to my feet.  There was just something in Kali¡¯s tone that wouldn¡¯t let just lie there, not while my muscles were at least semi-functional.  My addled mind vaguely noted that she¡¯d probably have made a magnificent drill sergeant, but most of my attention was fixed on the way she was drawing back her fist in readiness to start the spar again.

    The blow was being deliberately telegraphed to make it easier to block or dodge, but it didn¡¯t matter.  At that moment it was taking everything I had just to stay standing, anything else was just beyond me.  I was fully expecting to go down when it hit.

    Instead, the dark-haired goddess suddenly vanished.

    All I could do was stare at the spot where she¡¯d been standing.  I was vaguely aware of something that might have been noise, of the world seeming to shake, of dust and dirt being kicked up by some huge force, but none of it seemed to be registering with my muggy thoughts.  Instead, all I could manage was to keep blinking to try and clear my vision, anything more complicated was beyond me.  Still, it must have worked, because something that I hadn¡¯t noticed before swam into focus off to the side.  Though exactly how I¡¯d managed to miss it until then confused the hell out of me.

    It took me a few seconds to recognise the hulking figure that stood just beside me, fist extended.  It looked slightly different from how I remembered it, the design of the armour slightly shifted, the carved and moulded musculature a bit heavier, the spikes of the crown above the helmet-like face altered into a different configuration, but it was still unmistakable.

    The problem was that the last time I¡¯d gotten a good look at that form, at least when it hadn¡¯t been a semi-melted ruin, had been when it was fighting Joan and doing a pretty good job of overwhelming her in her angel form.

    Letting out a startled yelp I stumbled backwards, only to trip and fall as my wings drooped and caught in the soil.  Unprepared for the sudden resistance I lost my footing and fell on my arse, my wings propping up on either side of me like half-collapsed tents.

    However, much to my surprise, the hulking figure didn¡¯t advance upon me.  Instead, it turned its back to me and faced away, leaving me staring at it in bemused confusion.  What was going on?  The last time I¡¯d seen this thing it was working with those monsters that were trying to drag me through the portal, so why . . .

    My eyes widened as I spotted something in its stance.  I wasn¡¯t the best at reading body language, but in that moment, it seemed so obvious that it might as well have been spelt out in ten-foot-tall neon letters.

    It was protective.

    The way the huge figure stood, the set of its shoulders, the part open state of its hands, everything about it was defensive, not for itself, but for me.  It was protecting me!

    ¡°YEAH!  THAT¡¯S WHAT I¡¯M TALKING ABOUT!¡±

    My eyes were torn away from it as I saw Kali get back to her feet beyond it.  the expression on her face . . . well, I don¡¯t think it could be considered entirely rational.  There exultation, hunger, joy, excitement, it all blended into a weird cocktail of emotions I could barely make out.  One thing I was sure about, the bright crazy look in her eyes didn¡¯t bode well for me.

 Chapter 6: Help Incoming: Part Two

    Chapter 6: Help Incoming: Part Two

    Joan had not been certain what to expect when she arrived, but it certainly was not what she actually found.

    The Golem, the one that had broken her wings and nearly killed Adam, was now standing between him and Kali, its posture unquestioningly defensive and protective.  The goddess was just climbing out of a shallow trench that she¡¯d dug into the field in much the same way a crashing fighter plane might have done.  That gave a clear indication of the sheer power with which she had been struck, but the clear battle lust in her eyes also made it clear that she had not been hurt in any meaningful way.

    For his part Adam appeared to be mostly unhurt, bruised and dirtied certainly, but not seriously wounded.  Confusion was etched on his face though, as his eyes darted from the golem to Kali and back again.

    ¡°What is this?¡±

    The question came from Hadriel, who had appeared beside the resurrected soul.  The angel was tense but had yet to draw her blades, apparently as unsure of the situation as Joan was.

    ¡°That is the golem that aided in the attack upon Adam¡¯s Awakening.¡± The saint explained. ¡°I thought it destroyed in the backlash of the ceremony, but now . . .¡±

    She paused as the metal colossus shifted its stance, preparing itself as Kali finished climbing out of the crater, shaking dirt from her clothes in an oddly casual manner.  The goddess¡¯s head tilted slightly as she looked from Adam to the huge golem and back again, then glanced back to the crater, then back to the construct and the demigod.

    ¡°Okay, that was a good one, I wasn¡¯t expecting to get blindsided like that.¡± Far from being angry Kali was grinning widely, looking at the golem in a way that reminded Joan of a hungry soldier seeing some freshly cooked bacon. ¡°And this guy . . . nice.  Really, really nice keeping him in reserve, then springing him on me when I get all riled up and get tunnel vision.  You get a gold star for sneakiness and packing some oomph, well done!¡±

    ¡°. . . Thanks?¡± Her charge simply stared at the Hindu goddess, his face a bemused mixture of uncertainty and confusion. ¡°No . . . wait, hold on!¡±

    He shook his head and seemed to gather his thoughts, gesturing to the golem in an almost frantic manner.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on with this guy!  He just showed up!  I didn¡¯t call him or anything!¡±

    ¡°I find that hard to believe.  After all, the signature of your magic is written deeply upon its being.¡±

    The calm response came from the side as the tall figure of Athena rounded the corner of the farmhouse and came into view.  She was some distance from the fight and the two heavenly agents, yet her voice carried to them as clear as a bell despite that distance.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Confusion returned to Adam¡¯s face as he turned to face the Greek goddess.  The golem also reacted to the new arrival by taking a step backwards, moving closer to the winged demigod and positioning itself to be able to react to any that might approach him.  Athena seemed unconcerned though, as she strolled closer, admiring the great figure with detached attached interest.

    ¡°Yes.  It clearly is acting to protect you. Do you think that to be simply a coincidence?  This construct serves you because it is your magic granting it life.  Be proud!  This is a powerful creation, one old and potent.  Whatever twist of fortune has led to it considering you as its master is quite the blessing.  Now . . . instruct it that you are in no more danger before it chooses to attack one of us in an attempt to make an opening for you to flee.¡±

    For a moment there was only the sound of the gentle breeze as Adam stared at her in incomprehension.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Athena let out a sigh like an instructor being forced to deal with some dull-witted student.

    ¡°It seeks to protect you; do you not see?  It does not know that we are not threats, so it seeks to protect you from all of us.  From what I can tell it senses our power and knows that it is outmatched.  As such it will most likely seek to grant you a chance to escape while sacrificing itself in some doomed charge.  Unless you wish for it to waste itself in such a manner, I suggest you inform it that you are safe, do you understand?¡±

    The young demigod stared at the goddess for a second, then looked back to the golem, then back to the goddess, then to the others, then back to the golem.  Joan could almost see it as his mind sped up, catching up with the situation and working to fit Athena¡¯s words into what he saw and understood.

    ¡°Hey!  Hey . . . you, big stone and metal . . . guy!  Look at me!¡±

    There was a brief pause, and then, slowly and ponderously, the golem turned until its helmet-like face was pointed at Adam.  Despite the distance that separated them Joan could not help but feel her throat tighten as she saw the burning ember eyes behind the visor.  She could remember those eyes all too well from when she had failed to protect her charge.  She could remember throwing all she could at the hulking form and being unable to do more than push it back.  She could remember how she could not stop it, how it had broken her wings, how it came so close to killing Adam.

    ¡°Look . . . Kali isn¡¯t a threat, okay?  We were sparring, not fighting.  You don¡¯t need to protect me from her, or any of the others, understand?  We¡¯re all friends here, okay?¡±

    There was another pause, then the metal head nodded slowly.  Arms lowered and shoulders slumped slightly as the golem relaxed from its battle-ready stance and just stood there.  For a moment there was only stillness as everyone watched, waiting to see if anything else was going to happen, then Adam spoke up once more.

    ¡°Okay . . . could you please go and wait over by the farmhouse?  I think I¡¯ve got some stuff to discuss.¡±

    Another slow nod, then, with footsteps that sent small tremors through the ground, the huge figure moved towards the farmhouse, apparently having chosen the main entrance as its goal.  An awkward silence filled the air as it left, only to be broken as Kali spoke up.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯ve got no idea how that thing managed to sneak up on me.  I mean, seriously, it¡¯s about as subtle as an oncoming bulldozer, how¡¯d I miss it?¡±

    ¡°We were making a lot of noise.¡± Adam offered, gesturing behind him to where the field had been torn up in quite a few spots.

    ¡°Yeah, but it was fun.¡± The goddess replied, a touch of the crazy slipping back into her grin for a moment, then fading away again.

    ¡°Your training was certainly . . . enthusiastic,¡± Athena agreed, now close enough that she had drawn level with Joan and Hadriel. ¡°Still, I believe that the more pressing matter would be to understand how you came to be in command of such a powerful creation.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Adam held out his arms in a show of incomprehension. ¡°The last time I saw that thing it was a melted wreck.  I¡¯ve got no idea why it¡¯s listening to me now.¡±

    ¡°I can confirm his words,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°When I first arrived, I inspected the remains of the golem to see if it posed any kind of threat.  It was so damaged that I was certain it could no longer move.  I could certainly not sense any power within it.¡±

    ¡°It is not impossible that such a powerful construct would be able to repair itself,¡± Athena commented. ¡°Though I do not know much of the ways of golem creation I do know that the greatest works were every bit the equal of the creations of my brother Hephaestus.  If he could create armour that healed when damaged, then I am certain that a construct able to strike such a blow to a goddess might have similar abilities.¡±

    ¡°Such is possible,¡± The warrior angel agreed. ¡°But such healing requires power, and there was none in that thing¡¯s hulk when I studied it.  There was no spark of power, no remnant of energy that could be used to fuel such a process.  It was dead, inert as a brick from some crumbled edifice.¡±

    ¡°Well, I can tell you it¡¯s not dead now,¡± Kali commented, one hand coming up to rub the side of her jaw. ¡°I¡¯ve gone up against demon lords that didn¡¯t hit me as hard as that guy did.  That¡¯s plenty of power to be packing, so where do you think it got it?¡±

    ¡°Adam,¡± Joan deliberately kept her tone soft, making sure not to seem accusatory. ¡°Have you had any interaction with the remains of the golem?  Any time that it might have been touched by your power?¡±

    Adam¡¯s brow furrowed slightly in thought, then he gave a slow nod.

    ¡°Yeah, just once.  I went to take a look at it once, just to see how it was doing.  I don¡¯t remember anything happening though.  Nothing that¡¯s got anything to do with magic.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain?¡± The reborn saint questioned, trying to encourage him without applying pressure. ¡°It need not have been something great, magic can be as subtle as it can be splendid.  Do you recall anything, out of the ordinary?¡±

    ¡°No, nothing . . .¡± The winged demigod paused for a moment his eyes going distant as something seemed to occur to him. ¡°There was a shock when I touched it.  A static shock.  I thought it was just because I was touching something metal, I¡¯ve had a couple of other shocks like that before.  My wings can build it up when it¡¯s warm and dry.¡±

    Behind him, his wings fluffed up in emphasis before smoothing out again.  Joan smiled at the display, pleased at how much he had progressed in the use of his new appendages since he first got them.

    ¡°That could be it,¡± Athena spoke up first. ¡°A small spark may not have been much, but it would have been enough to reignite a dormant furnace.  It would also explain why it now seeks to protect and obey you.  If your power suffuses it then it would only be natural for it to imprint upon you in the absence of any other influences.¡±

    ¡°Nice.¡± Kali practically purred the word as she sauntered closer to Adam as he walked over towards Joan and the others. ¡°So now you¡¯ve got a serious bruiser at your beck and call.  Seriously, since me and greecy got here your firepower seems to be going up through the roof.¡±

    ¡°That is ¡®greecy and I¡¯,¡± Athena softly corrected.

    ¡°Gotcha, greecy.¡±

    For just a moment Joan was sure that she saw the Greek goddess¡¯s mask of calm control fracture as her cheek twitched ever so slightly.  It would seem that even as temperate a goddess as Athena had her limits, and Kali was straying dangerously close to them.  Eager to change the subject Joan spoke up.

    ¡°Just what were you and Adam doing that drew it to protect him?¡±

    The playful smirk on the Hindu goddess¡¯s face faded as she turned to the saint, replaced with a more serious expression.

    ¡°Sparring.  I had to get a better idea of what he could do.  I got a little overexcited, I think that¡¯s what got the golem¡¯s attention.¡±

    Joan had to struggle to keep straight face as she heard that.  It was a confirmation of her fears in regard to Kali, that her legendary bloodlust could be a problem.  Yes, it had not gone too far this time but was that due to the intervention of the golem?  Kali was bound by oath, but that didn¡¯t mean she couldn¡¯t make mistakes, pushing things too far without meaning to.

    The saint knew she was going to have to manage this somehow, she just had no idea how.  For now, though, there was another question she wanted answered.

    ¡°Adam.¡± The winged demigod turned from where he was still watching the unmoving form of the golem and looked at her. ¡°Your training has left you . . . somewhat dirty.  Please feel free to excuse yourself.  Go and cleanse yourself.  Once you are done could you come and join us?  I believe you will benefit from an analysis of your match.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Oh . . . kay?¡±

    It was more of a question than a reply.  Obviously, he saw that he was being all but dismissed, but chose not to comment on it.  Looking down at himself he noticed that he was stained by grass and dirt, so he offered a weak smile and made his way back to the farmhouse.

    There was a pause as the remaining women watched him go, only for it to be broken as Joan voiced the question she¡¯d wanted answered.

    ¡°What do you think of him?  How strong is he?¡±

    A small smile returned to Kali¡¯s face as her eyes brightened.

    ¡°There¡¯s potential there, serious potential!  He¡¯s gotta good grounding in practically every element, and I can tell he¡¯s starting to reach for the higher-tier stuff.  I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen or even heard of a demigod that¡¯s got such a wide array to call on.  He¡¯s lacking in the magical muscle at the moment though.  He¡¯s got loads of options but can¡¯t put any major oomph into any of them.  Not yet anyway.

    ¡°Physically he¡¯s got plenty going on.  He¡¯s tough and he¡¯s strong, but only so much.  He¡¯s gonna get stronger there too. I¡¯m sure of it, but it¡¯s all still building, not close to where he can be.¡±

    Joan nodded, the Hindu deity¡¯s words confirming her own thoughts.

    ¡°It must have been due to the interrupted Awakening ritual,¡± The words came out even as she thought them. ¡°His potential was untouched, but his body never fully tapped into it.  Dieu soit bon, his magic had not been properly sparked into life until he did so himself.  He is having to struggle to reach a level that should have come to him naturally.¡±

    ¡°That would be in keeping with his training,¡± Honoured Hadriel agreed. ¡°He began with little, but in the time since I arrived, his skill has progressed appreciably each day.  This has been his first true taste of battle and it is clear that his power has grown from it.¡±

    ¡°Oui,¡± Joan agreed. ¡°He is unquestionably stronger than he was, but he needs to be stronger still.  Perhaps . . .¡±

    She paused for a moment her eyes flicking to the three immortals before looking over to the farmhouse where the golem still stood.

    ¡°. . . Perhaps he has reached the limit of how far he can develop in this controlled environment.¡±

    Hadriel was the first to respond, a slight frown on her face.

    ¡°There is still time left upon the Hallowed Sanctuary.  Would it not be best to use that time to further his training?¡±

    ¡°I believe he has been here long enough,¡± Joan replied, gesturing to the area around them. ¡°This was to be his shelter while he was defenceless.  Now, he has power, he has tools, and he has us and that golem.  Adam is not meant to hide away here, he is meant to be out in the world, such is his fate.  Perhaps he could learn some minor lessons in the days remaining here, but I feel that he may learn greater lessons without, and he shall do greater good.¡±

    The resurrected saint pointed to the farmhouse and then looked each of the immortals in the eyes.

    ¡°Honoured Hadriel has passed along my request for an oracle to one of the angels of the Choir of Principalities.  My request was a simple one, merely to know where our charge may help the most.  When it arrives and it will be time for us to depart, will you travel with us?¡±

    Even as she asked the question Joan felt a knot of tension grow in her stomach.  This was where some truths would be revealed.  If either of the goddesses were here to act as more than what they claimed this might be the point that revealed them.  A goddess meant to observe Adam and keep him out of the affairs of the world would be eager for him to remain in place longer.  If that was true, if it came to a fight, could an empowered mortal and a warrior angel match a true divinity?

    ¡°I¡¯ve got no problems with it,¡± Kali replied with an easy grin. ¡°This place is good to hang out and relax for a few days, but if I had to spend too long here then I¡¯d end up climbing the walls.  If we¡¯re gonna get out there and start doing something real, then you¡¯ve got my vote.¡±

    ¡°Colourfully put, but not incorrect,¡± Athena agreed. ¡°Adam is not meant to be some rare flower carefully maintained in a hothouse.  He is to be . . . pivotal, a changer of fates.  He cannot be such if he remains here.¡±

    ¡°Then you are in agreement,¡± Joan spoke it as a statement rather than a question. ¡°Our time here has ended.  As soon as the oracle arrives, we shall follow its directions and leave this place.¡±

    The nods she received were all the confirmation she needed.  As she strode towards the farmhouse, the French saint was already beginning to be drawn up plans for their departure.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Athena remained in the field, watching as the others departed one by one.  The angel said nothing, merely levitating into the sky until she was hovering almost a hundred feet above the farmhouse.  Kali had been a bit more verbose, commenting that she wanted to make sure her motorcycle was ready for the coming journey before heading to where she had stored her vehicle.

    For her part the Greek goddess instead chose to remain where she was, her grey eyes surveying the field where her charge and the Hindu goddess had clashed.  She took in the torn-up earth, the craters, the cuts, the dents where the golem had walked.  All of it was evaluated and stored in her mind as she read the battlefield as easily as a scholar might read the writing upon a page.

    A small frown marred her forehead for a moment, then faded as she smoothed it away.

    The demigod . . . had not been what she had expected.  She had been expecting something more than the young man who had greeted her.  A hero, a monster, a wise sage or a cunning schemer.  Instead, she had been faced with a being that had the form of an angel and the mind of a young mortal.

    In truth, Athena had not been completely immune to just how handsome her charge was.  She doubted that he was even aware of the sheer beauty that his change had wrought upon him, given his present company.  The angel might not be immune to lust, but she was a warrior, a soldier.  If Hadriel had a weakness for any sin, then it was most likely to be wrath or bloodlust.  As for Joan . . . she was an interesting being, one with the blessings of Lord of the High Heavens.  Her will was strengthened beyond what was normally possible for a mortal, enough to resist the supernatural beauty of Adam.

    Upon seeing him for the first time Athena thought of the likes of Adonis or Narcissus, though she had never personally met either of them.  Even as covered in dirt and blood as he had been upon his arrival there had been nothing about him that had not been heart-achingly beautiful.  Had some mortal maidens been the ones to see him arrive, rather than two goddesses and two agents of the High Heavens, then she was sure they would have had their hearts stolen upon first glance.

    Athena was a goddess whose very nature was based upon intellect.  She had been born from her father¡¯s skull rather than the loins of her mother.  She was a goddess of wisdom and strategy, of invention and action.  She was also one of the three virgin goddesses of the Olympian pantheon, a goddess who had never taken a lover nor born a child.  She could love, but her love was an intellectual one in keeping with her nature.  She was loyal to her father, and had loved her students and half-siblings, but never had she sought out either man or woman to be her husband or partner.

    So, when she had first set eyes upon Adam and she had felt a warm surge of something unfamiliar in her heart, Athena had been surprised.  It had not been overwhelming, but that she had felt it at all had been a surprise.  Faced with such a paragon of masculine perfection she had been expecting a personality to match, to feel as though she were addressing one of the commanders of the heavenly army.  What else should she have expected?  This was a descendant of one of the great archangels.  His bloodline was tied to many powerful divinities and his fate already echoed across the world to those with the ears to hear it.  How could he be anything but less than that?

    As it turned out, quite easily.

    Adam, at least in his character, was . . . ordinary.  To his credit he was adapting, both due to his training and his experiences.  He had power and the will to use it, but he was not . . . godly, heroic, not yet.

    Well, that was hardly a bad thing, at least not for her.  A small smile touched Athena¡¯s lips as she turned away from the farmhouse and looked outward, towards the edges of the Hallowed Sanctuary.  A mortal could not see the boundaries that defined the edges of the divine construct, but a goddess was not so limited.

    Finding Adam to be as limited as he was meant that her father¡¯s worst fears were unrealised as of yet. What he could be in the future was dangerous, but it was far off, not yet realised.  As things stood, he was manageable . . . malleable enough that he could be directed to serve the interests of Olympus.

    A grimace touched her face at that thought, an expression she would never have let show had she not been on her own.  Her pantheon was powerful, but it was spread out. Many of her family had become part of Olympus Industries, but many others had chosen to go their own way. Artemis was in her forests, Dionysus was somewhere in Australia indulging in an endless bacchanalia, and no one was sure what either Hades or Persephone were up to.  Others had not yet chosen to descend to the mortal plane, waiting to see how events played out before making their moves.

    As if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, there were the rumours that had reached her father.  Whispers of hidden prophecies, of enemies moving in the dark, of betrayal and subterfuge.  Everything that was needed to stoke the fires of his paranoia.

    Zeus was a mighty god, a strong leader and was capable of being a wise ruler, but his weaknesses were just as evident.  Her father was all but helpless in the face of his lust, far too often straying from the bed of his wife and siring many a bastard demigod.  His pride was far too easily pricked, more often than not leading him to rash decisions.  However, in her opinion, by far his worst weakness was his fear.

    Zeus was anything but a coward.  He could face monsters, giants, titans and fellow gods without flinching.  Even when confronted with Typhon he had gathered his mettle and met the Last Titan in battle.  He had his courage, but he also had his fears.  The same fears that had consumed his own father.

    Like father, like son.  Zeus¡¯s greatest fear was to be supplanted, just as he had defeated and supplanted Chronos, king of the Titans.  That fear had driven Chronos to swallow his own children, to trap them within his belly so they could not rise against him.  That fear had driven Zeus to swallow up Metis, Athena¡¯s mother so that no son born of her could rise against him.

    He had managed to temper his paranoia, his loyal children, such as Apollo, Ares, Dionysus and Artemis, had persuaded him that not all his progeny were out to dethrone him.  However, that fear, that thought that someone sought to tear his kingdom out from under him and cast him down into the dirt, still gnawed at him.  The rumours of an ancient bloodline awakening in this new world to lead a new Titanomachy against him had inflamed those old fears, and now her father prepared for war.

    Athena was less convinced though.  Asgard had their Ragnar?k, the Abrahamic faiths had their apocalypse, the Hindu pantheon had the end of their cycle in the Kali Yuga, but the legends of Greece never spoke of some final end or battle.  Yes, this new era had come with its own foretellings and warnings.  Oracles and prophets from all factions had been empowered by the clash of fate caused when the bonds holding back the divine failed.  With the Black Sun, as the mortals were calling it, what had once been fate had shattered, and new weavings of destiny and chaos had sprung into being in its place.  Still, it seemed all too convenient that a dire threat of such a scale would rise now, just when Olympus was set to establish its power as never before.

    Adam . . . well, Athena had not lied about his bloodline.  There was some uncertainty as to his divine Greek progenitor, it was just far less uncertainty than she had implied.  Both she and Zeus were all but convinced as to who he was descended from, and if they were right . . .

    She was the goddess of wisdom, and it was fairly basic wisdom that trying to pre-emptively eliminate every potential threat that appeared would only lead to trouble in the future.  Thankfully her father had listened to her council on this occasion, choosing to take a softer approach with the young demigod rather than immediately bringing down the hammer.  Too much backlash could come of that, too many parties offended by the death of their distant kin.

    That was why Athena was here as a teacher and an ally, to foster good relations and to watch and measure the new demigod that had garnered so much attention.  Of course, she had not been expecting quite so many complications with her mission.  The agents of the High Heavens had been a surprise, but the presence of another goddess, especially one as powerful and dangerous as Kali, had been an actual cause for concern.

    Truthfully, Athena was not confident of her ability to defeat the goddess of destruction if it came to a battle between them.  The Greek goddess was a deity of warfare, but it was in matters of strategy and tactics.  She was a general, not a champion.  To be sure, her martial skills were far from weak.  Any mortal, even fellow gods, would do well to respect her skill with sword, shield and spear.  Kali though . . . she was on another level entirely.  The Hindu goddess had little in the way of strategy, tactic, or even martial skill in the final analysis, but that was mainly because she did not need them.  What Kali possessed in abundance was raw brutal power and near unending ferocity, all that was needed for her to be a nigh unstoppable engine of destruction.

    With a sigh Athena turned in place once more, her eyes taking in the fields, the distant woods.  By necessity her mission was flexible in how it was to be carried out, almost all of it being left to her discretion.  Additionally, she wasn¡¯t on any sort of time limit either.  All in all, she could take her time and make sure this matter was dealt with well, rather than with haste and carelessness.  She could imagine how her siblings might have bungled the situation.

    Hermes most likely would not have had the patience to devote any great time to watching Adam.  He would most likely have made a hurried decision as soon as he became bored.  Apollo, were he dragged away from Hollywood, might have made for an even worse option.  Her half-brother tended to be almost as amorous as their mutual father, had he been here he would almost certainly have tried to seduce either the saint or the angel.  Whether or not he would have succeeded would have been unimportant when compared to the strain it would place on the relationship between the Olympian pantheon and the High Heavens.  Others, such as Hestia or Demeter, might have made for more diplomatic choices but would have been lacking in power in the event of conflict.

    Athena could only wince as one scenario after another formed in her mind, either of diplomatic disaster or of her gentler relatives coming to harm.  She had been the best choice, that was certain.  That did not make her task any easier though.

    Any further contemplation of her situation was cut off as she felt a sudden surge of divine power from behind her.  The ¡®flavour¡¯ was clear to her own divine senses, the combination of sky, light, and purity an easy combination to recognise.  As such it came as a small surprise to her when she turned and saw a brilliant ray of golden light lancing down from the sky and impacting the angel that had been hovering above the farmhouse.

    For a brief moment, the goddess of war and wisdom tensed, wondering if this was an attack.  Then she saw how the light was not striking the winged figure, rather it was connecting with her.  The beam of light was not a lance, not a weapon, it was a link, a channel through which information and power could be transferred directly to the angel¡¯s mind.

    Athena relaxed as she started to make her way back to the farmhouse.  By the look of things, it would seem that the oracle Hadriel had mentioned had just arrived.  Which in turn meant that things would soon be in motion.  It was somewhat sooner than she would have preferred.  Ideally, she would have had a few more days to become more acquainted with Adam, and to understand his personality and temperament in greater detail in a controlled environment.  With this, they would soon be moving out into the wider world, and she had little doubt that things would become . . . chaotic.

    That might be for the best though, she mused.  Seeing how her charge acted ¡®out in the wild¡¯, as it were, might be more revealing of his nature than observing him in the safety of the Sanctuary.

    Yes, this could work.

 Chapter 7: Boy Meets World: Part One

    Chapter 7: Boy Meets World: Part One

    ¡°Okay, I think I¡¯ve got everything I need.  How are you guys doing?¡±

    In my family, it had always been something of a running joke that whenever we packed to go travelling, we always made a mess of it.  No matter how much we tried to organize, plan, anticipate and streamline something always went wrong.  Something would be forgotten, something wouldn¡¯t fit, something would get lost.  It was a seemingly endless comedy of errors that had us all stressed and rushing to try to stay on time.  Sure, we¡¯d all have a good laugh about it after the fact, calling it the ¡®West holiday curse¡¯, but at the time it was anything but fun.

    Interestingly enough it seemed that saints and angels weren¡¯t immune to the West Holiday Curse!

    ¡°I . . . ah, I believe I should soon be ready.  Just . . . I will just require a little more time.¡±

    Maybe it was a little petty, but there was a certain guilty pleasure in seeing the normally confident and self-possessed Joan of Arc looking flustered.

    Our departure had not been the most organized from the start, but that was mostly due to the abruptness of our need to leave.  Joan had explained to me about the oracle she¡¯d requested from one of the angels able to use prophecy, and she¡¯d also let me know that it had just arrived.  When I heard about it, I was excited and worried.  Since the Black Sun, I¡¯d read up on various mythologies, including Greek mythology.  I knew just how much getting a glimpse of your future could screw you over, and I really, really, didn¡¯t want to end up getting killed by my own grandson due to my paranoia.  On the other hand, there was something . . . empowering about being told I was the subject of a prophecy.  It was as though some small and unrealistic part of me was saying that I was taking another step down the path of the protagonist.  Soon I would have invincible plot armour, then none could stop me!

    Both my worry and my delusions only lasted until I heard the actual prophecy though.   I thought it would I¡¯d need to piece it together and work out what some obscure reference or weird imagery meant.  I thought it might even rhyme.

    I wasn¡¯t expecting my oracle to be an address, a date and a time.

    The address was something of a surprise Le Havre was a coastal French city and a major hub for shipping traffic from Britain.  In a way, I was oddly happy to be so close to my home country, even though I was still separated from it by the channel, but that was only a background sentiment.  The location was no problem, one of the docks should be easy enough to find.  The real problem was the time that had been specified.  Well, that and the date.

    The date was tomorrow.  The time was just before three o¡¯clock in the morning.

    The irony was that after Emma had risked herself to let me know about the Hallowed Sanctuary, and after I¡¯d given myself a headache trying to think of a way to tell the others, it was no longer a factor.  We¡¯d be leaving before it collapsed, even if it did so early.  Hell, it could collapse right now and it wouldn¡¯t make any difference.

    Still, I was glad that she had told me, it had given her the chance to talk to me about other stuff, like the mess with Athena.  If she hadn¡¯t brought it up I might not have realised any of it, just taking everything at face value.  I wasn¡¯t planning to completely distrust the Greek goddess, but knowing to be wary was a good thing, especially with our upcoming appointment with Destiny.

    Truthfully, we weren¡¯t in all that much of a rush!  The time predicted was at half past two in the morning, and it wasn¡¯t even midday yet.  It wasn¡¯t as though transport was all that much of an issue.  Joan had been able to get me from Britain to the farmhouse in only half an hour or so.  Even if Kali and Athena didn¡¯t have fast travel options of their own then Joan could have given them a lift as well.  Getting to a coastal city from where the farmhouse was would barely take more than a quarter of an hour.  The pressure that Joan was feeling was largely of her own creation.

    It had been her idea to leave as soon as we could, though there had been a couple of minor delays.  Hadriel had insisted on early morning training as soon as I woke up.  The prophecy had been communicated while I¡¯d been sparring with the angel.  Getting myself cleaned up took up some time, and while I was at it Joan had been packing up her admittedly small luggage.

    The problem was that it was a bit spread out since she had something of a habit of spreading her belongings around the farmhouse.  That included things like her small bible, a couple of small relics that had been gifts, some notes she¡¯d written down throughout our training, and a map of the city we were heading towards.  Joan was finding her stuff with commendable calm and efficiency, but it was delaying her slightly.  It also gave me a bit more time to get my head in order, so I wasn¡¯t complaining.

    ¡°Are you guys ready?¡±

    Kali was standing next to her motorcycle, a small rucksack on her back.  By the looks of things, she hadn¡¯t had much when she arrived.  Athena stood across from her, clad in the same white and blue toga.  The contrast between the two goddesses was as jarring as the first time I saw them, something I hoped would wear off with time.

    ¡°Yes, we are simply waiting for Lady Joan.  It would appear that she still hasn¡¯t found the last of her . . . effects.¡±

    Hadriel sounded completely polite, but there was a tiny hint of dissatisfaction in there.  Honestly, I was surprised that I even noticed it, given how calm her face was.

    Actually . . . how did I notice it?  there weren¡¯t any indicators, but I was sure that it was there so-

    ¡°What about the golem?¡±

    Kali¡¯s question broke my train of thought and I saw her walk across the gravel we were all waiting on, towards where the huge figure of stone and metal still stood by the farmhouse entrance.

    ¡°Uh . . . what about it?¡±

    I was just happy that the thing wasn¡¯t trying to kill any of us anymore and was just waiting where I¡¯d told it to stay.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to take it with us?  That thing hit me hard enough that I¡¯m still feeling it, that kind of power is always good to have in your corner, right?¡±

    That . . . that was a good point.  Yesterday I¡¯d not really considered the full implications of the golem¡¯s actions.  I¡¯d still been coming down from a serious adrenaline high, and since then it had just been one thing after another.

    ¡°Hey, golem, come over here!¡±

    I turned and called out to the massive hulk.  It responded immediately striding over towards me, every step sending small tremors through the ground.  Seeing it walking over was like being faced with a slow-motion avalanche.  Still, unlike a real natural disaster, it came to a stop a safe distance in front of me, but I still had to crane my neck a bit to look up at it.

    Its presence felt protective, solid as stone and heavy as a mountain but not intimidating.  Instead, it felt like a big outcrop of stone that gave you shade on a hot and sunny day.  And I could tell that the feeling was coming from the golem itself.

    ¡°You . . . you just want to . . . look out for me?¡±

    I said it slowly, but even as I did I knew I wasn¡¯t quite putting it into words properly.  What he felt . . . it was a drive to defend, but it was also . . . obedient?  Subservient?  No, that didn¡¯t cover it and felt wrong.  It wasn¡¯t slavish, or at least it wasn¡¯t now.  I supposed it could easily become slave-like, but right now it felt . . . cleaner.

    Loyal, that was it!  I could feel loyalty practically radiating from the mountain of stone and metal.

    ¡°Okay, please point at the sky with your right arm.¡±

    Immediately the golem obeyed, one finger almost as thick as my wrist stabbing up towards the blue sky.

    ¡°Please stand on one foot.¡±

    Again it obeyed.

    ¡°So, it would seem that our suppositions were correct,¡± Athena commented as she joined me and Kali. ¡°It is bound to obey you.  A powerful servant to possess.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like that.  The ways she phrased it . . . maybe it wasn¡¯t deliberate, but it made me feel as though someone had just given me a slave as a gift, and I didn¡¯t like it.  ¡®Freedom is the right of all sentient beings¡¯ and all that.

    Maybe . . . well, maybe I was overthinking this.  Was this thing even a sentient being?

    ¡°You . . . are you alive?  I mean, can you think?  Are you doing more than just whatever I say?¡±

    Well, when in doubt, ask.

    There was a brief pause, then the golem slowly nodded its head.  Really?  How was I meant to test that?

    ¡°Okay, do you have a name?¡±

    This time it shook its head.

    ¡°Do you want one?¡±

    I asked the question on impulse, but then the golem sort of froze up and I started to worry if I¡¯d done something wrong.  Maybe the question that didn¡¯t compute?

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    After a few seconds the burning pits that served as eyes behind the visor of its helmet-like face stayed locked on me.  Then it slowly nodded.

    Okay, that cleared it up as far as I was concerned.  I wasn¡¯t sure how smart this thing was, but it was definitely alive in some way, or at least very close to it.  I could feel something from it, not like I did for others, but there was something there.  Also, it wanted a name, that wasn¡¯t something a simple automaton would want.  That nod of its head had some sort of sincerity behind it, weak and dull, but there it was all the same.

    So . . . a name.

    My first impulse was to go with something mythological, someone powerful that would match the image of a huge figure cast in stone and metal.  Heracles, Atlas, or Goliath, something like that.  But with many Legends already in the world, that probably wasn¡¯t the best idea.

    My second thought was that I should go for something grand, like Alexander or Salvatore, the kind of name the protagonist of some epic novel series should have.  But that struck me as way too pretentious.

    My third impulse was to go for comedy.  Something like Terry, Tim or Spot.  It¡¯d make the huge metal goliath a bit less intimidating if nothing else.

    All of that went through my mind in a flash, before I settled on a name, not a majestic name, not a silly name, just an average name.

    ¡°How do you like Bruce?¡±

    Yeah, it was a bit of a weird name choice, but it was this or Clark, and I felt Mr Wayne suited a bit better than Mr Kent.  Actually . . . wasn¡¯t a golem sort of like a man made of steel?  Had I missed an opportunity there?  Oh well, it was too late now.

    In response to my suggestion, the golem went still again, but after a moment I thought I detected just a slight tilt to its. . . well, ¡®his¡¯ head, as though considering.  Then the helmet-like head nodded, and his eyes burnt just a bit brighter.

    ¡°Bruce?!  You¡¯re going to call a multi-ton juggernaut ¡®Bruce¡¯?¡±

    Kali was looking at me as though she couldn¡¯t decide between being shocked, outraged or highly amused.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to call him something like ¡®Rex Megagornius Prime¡¯, that¡¯d just be stupid.¡±

    That took her out of her uncertainty and firmly into being amused.

    ¡°Okay, that was a good one,¡± She allowed. ¡°Anyway, back to what I was saying.  Are we taking . . . Bruce with us?¡±

    Well . . .  It looked like he was doing what I told him, and yes, his power was definitely something I wanted backing me up.  Hell, if he¡¯d been there to help me with Etienne then the fight would have gone pretty different.  Having Bruce as a bodyguard wasn¡¯t a bad idea.

    But, could I be completely sure of his loyalties?  Yes, he was obeying me now.  Yes, I could feel some sort of sincerity from him.  But what if the ones that sent him after me were able to contact him somehow?  Would they be able to reestablish control?  Could they turn him against me?

    ¡°I am ready!¡±

    Joan stepped out of the farmhouse¡¯s front door, fully dressed in her armour, and waving a folded map as though it was some prize stolen from a dragon¡¯s den.  She paused when she saw both me and Kali so close to the golem, but only for a moment, then she drew closer.

    ¡°What brings the golem here?¡± She asked.¡±

    ¡°I thought we might want to take Bruce here with us,¡± Kali explained. ¡°He¡¯s got a mean hook, I can personally guarantee it, so I figure he might be useful.¡±

    ¡°¡®Bruce¡¯?¡± The French saint looked confused.

    ¡°I figured the golem needed a name.¡±

    ¡°And you called it ¡®Bruce¡¯?¡± Her confusion persisted, and I came to a troublesome conclusion.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to explain this a lot, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Hey, props to you for bucking the trend I say!¡± Kali declared, her grin resembling a particularly amused Jack o¡¯lantern. ¡°Going humble¡¯s a nice choice.¡±

    ¡°Well, his name aside, what do you wish to do with . . . Bruce, Adam?¡±

    ¡°Like Kali said, take him with us¡±

    Yeah, there might be some risks to it, but if we just left him here then it was just as likely that his former masters would try to scoop him up again.  If so, then wasn¡¯t it smarter to have him with us?  At least that way we could see it if he switched sides.

    ¡°Well . . . he could be a formidable ally,¡± Joan agreed but then shook her head. ¡°Unfortunately, I see no way to transport him alongside us.  Neither I nor Honoured Hadriel are strong enough to carry him with our wings, and my magic over light is insufficiently strong to carry him as I did with you.  Do you think that you can?¡±

    That . . . was a good point.  The golem was ten feet tall and built to resemble an inhumanly muscular figure cast from metal and stone, he had to weigh tonnes, literally!

    ¡°Hey, Bruce, I¡¯m just going to try something, okay?¡±

    Since the huge figure remained still I took it as consent and reached out with my Arcana TK.  The golem wasn¡¯t as hard to get a grip on as one the likes of Hadriel or Joan.  Lifting him was another matter.  Carrying him along as I flew?  Not a chance!

    ¡°We shall have to leave him,¡± Joan explained, seeing how my efforts didn¡¯t look like they were up to the challenge. ¡°We can return for his aid afterwards, perhaps with some preparations a method to transport him can be arranged.  For now, I see no way he can be brought with us.¡±

    ¡°Actually, is there any chance I can get a ride?¡± Kali asked, her face almost apologetic. ¡°I¡¯ve been getting around on my bike since I came back to the mortal plane, but I don¡¯t think it can keep up with all of you if you¡¯re flying.  I forgot to pick up a vimana before I left my home plane, so I¡¯m stuck with my bike or hoofing it.¡±

    For a moment I was confused, then I remembered that vimana were divine vehicles that the gods in Hindu mythology used to get around.  It was an interesting bit of information, Kali didn¡¯t think she could keep up if we all went full speed with our flight.  I knew she was strong, but did she have no flight powers of her own?

    ¡°Certainement, goddess Kali,¡± Joan agreed. ¡°It would be my honour.¡±

    ¡°Are the preparations complete?¡±

    Athena asked as she strode over, her every movement radiating a confident grace any business woman would have happily murdered for.  Hadriel floated beside her, her face impassive and her arms folded.  She was floating slightly higher than normal.  Generally, she was only two inches or so off the ground, but today it was about a foot.  Just enough to put her on eye-level with Athena!

    ¡°I believe so, does anyone else have any reason we cannot leave?¡± Joan asked, only to get nothing but shaken heads.

    I gave Bruce instructions to keep an eye on the farmhouse while we were gone, not to attack anyone who arrived, but to make it clear the place was being guarded.  Maybe not the clearest of instructions possible, but the best I could come up with at short notice.  The huge golem nodded in reply and ponderously strode back to his previous position.

    ¡°Very well, let us depart.¡±

    Hadriel ascended further, Athena shimmered and was replaced by a giant owl already flying.  Joan transformed into her angelic form and the next moment a bubble of light formed around Kali and her bike, lifting both into the air.  I flexed my power and rose into the air with them.  As we got higher I took a moment to stare down at the scene beneath us.

    I felt a slight pressure as I passed through the Hallowed Sanctuary, then I felt it . . . pop.  When I¡¯d left it before it had been like passing through mist, I¡¯d come out and that had been it.  When I looked back I hadn¡¯t been able to see the farmhouse since it had still been concealed, the mist I¡¯d passed through still keeping it hidden.  This time I felt as though I was passing through something, something that gave after I left.  Turning I could finally see the farm from high above, further than I¡¯d been able to fly before.

    It was all laid out, the path I¡¯d taken for my runs and decorated with trees, sculptures and bushes.   The blasted area where my Awakening ritual had been interrupted, the great stretch of white where my completed Awakening had bleached the land of colour, the farmhouse itself, the golem beside it, the distant woods I¡¯d never been able to enter.  It was all laid out beneath me in a slowly widening panorama as I gained height.

    I was going to miss that white field.  And my run, I¡¯d put so much effort into it, I was going to miss seeing it too.  Still, new sights, new places!  I couldn¡¯t wait!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Marcello¡¯s trip across the English Channel in a small boat had been wet and miserable, even if it was a summer night, but he¡¯d been used to worse.  He¡¯d had to camp out in marshes swarming with bloodsucking insects more than once, by contrast, a damp and cold crossing hadn¡¯t been to bad.  No, the worst of it had been his company.

    Marcello wasn¡¯t a particularly social person.  He was a professional military man.  After going . . . freelance he¡¯d grown more used to self-chosen isolation.  He was used to the groups of hired agents, like the mercenaries that he¡¯d worked with in the past, forming a certain level of detached comradery, as paradoxical as it might sound.  With guns-for-hire, there was always a distance, the knowledge that the other party would value their wallet and their own life enough to leave you to swing in the breeze if that was what it took.  On the other hand, for such people to work together at all there had to be a certain amount of professional courtesy, an understanding that there were certain unspoken rules that would be honoured.

    The two he was travelling with lacked anything like that.  He had kept quiet and had not offered to speak, but it had felt as though his two companions were every bit as inhuman as the homunculus copy of Arthur that had been destroyed.

    In the past the scarred mage had worked with twisted individuals, those that took the job of a professional killer because they revelled in it.  In a regular society, they would have ended up as serial killers, psychos, or maybe successful CEOs.  Out in the dark pockets of the world rocked by civil wars or collapsing governments they could let loose.  He¡¯d worked with the sorts of rigid professionals that divided their work persona and their home persona so absolutely that it was almost a case of split personality.  He¡¯d worked with people who were almost frighteningly normal, despite their trade as killers.

    These two . . . he had no idea where Morgan la Fey had found them, but it had to be somewhere exceptional.

    The worst thing was that he couldn¡¯t get a good read on them.  They might be crazed psychopaths with a bloodlust held back only by fear of the immortal enchantress or even geass-enforced commands.  Or they might be completely sane and stable individuals who had secrets they dearly wished to keep and were doing so by giving nothing away.

    In the end, Marcello had been forced to endure the uncomfortable atmosphere for not only the entire trip but also the time afterwards when they had to hide.

    That part hadn¡¯t been so bad.  When they¡¯d arrived at the docks one of Morgan¡¯s spells had directed them to a small warehouse at the side of the docks.  From the outside it had appeared largely unused, not abandoned, just not in current use.  On the inside, it had been clean and tidy.  Little more than a large and empty space with a couple of offices off to the side.  What had been worth noting was that there had been three tents set up, complete with camping beds, sleeping bags, camping stoves, and a few small crates of food and drink.  There had even been a few books and a Monopoly board game.

    There had also been a note from Morgan la Fey, explaining the situation.  Apparently, the warehouse was warded to prevent any locator spells from finding it or anything it contained.  That meant that Marcello could let go of the wrapped scabbard he was carrying, though he was warned not to get too far from it.  They had been instructed to remain here for the next few days to give the search for the scabbard time to cool down.  Once that time had passed, she would send them further instructions.

    It was hard to keep his face passive as he read the note. So very hard!

    He was going to have to spend days with these assholes?!  It had barely been one day so far and they were already making his skin itch!

    With a sigh, the scarred mage made his way to a quiet corner, sat in a cross-legged position with his back to a wall and closed his eyes.  His focus turned inwards as he tried to find the source of his unease, of his shameful lack of control!  He was better than this!  He had worked with the very trash of humanity before, and he had never let it get to him like this.

    What did it matter to him if he was being forced to share this place with these two assholes?  He was a practitioner of the mystic arts, and what were they?  Killers?  Thieves?  Failed humans trying to hide how broken they were?  Did it even matter?

    Trying to let go of his tension Marcello tried to turn his focus inwards, ignoring the world around him.  there were tasks he could accomplish without having to deal with these two.  He could spend the next few days performing some delayed maintenance upon his internal systems, perhaps even taking the time to see if he could cultivate some improvements.

    Yes . . . these next few days didn¡¯t need to be a trial.  They could just as easily be a boon.  It was all in the way he looked at it.

    --------------------------------------------------------

 Chapter 7: Boy Meets World: Part Two

    Chapter 7: Boy Meets World: Part Two

    ¡°Okay, just to make sure, are you planning to just drop us down in the middle of the town?¡±

    Kali asked the question as she pocketed her cell phone, having been playing some game on it as we flew.  At the moment I was inside the sphere with her Athena since I just wasn¡¯t fast enough to keep up with Joan when she got up to full speed in her angelic form, and Athena had elected to join me.

    It was kind of funny that this topic hadn¡¯t come up earlier.  In my mind, I¡¯d just taken it as given that if we got there earlier then we¡¯d just find somewhere to hunker down and stake out the address we¡¯d been given.  It honestly hadn¡¯t occurred to me we¡¯d do anything else until Kali brought it up.

    ¡°I had not thought to,¡± Joan replied, her voice passing into the globe that held us without interference from the wind or the barrier of light. ¡°We have our time and location, would it not be best to conceal ourselves and wait for whatever opportunity shall present itself?¡±

    Okay, it looked like the resurrected Saint had the same thoughts as me, Kali on the other hand . . .

    ¡°Sounds safe, but it also sounds boring!¡± the black-haired goddess commented. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be more fun to make a splash?  Might be better for Adam too.  I say, let¡¯s set down in the city square!¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t been expecting to be drawn into this conversation since choices like that seemed over my pay grade for the time being.  Being the subject of the conversation, on the other hand . . .

    ¡°How would such a blatant discarding of any chance of stealth be worth it?¡±

    It was Hadriel who asked the question, her voice carrying just as easily as Joan¡¯s.  I could see where she was coming from, keeping a low profile would help get the drop on whatever was going to happen.

    ¡°There are advantages to more overt action,¡± Athena commented, her calm tone making me think of a librarian holding a sword. ¡°Adam shall need to establish a public persona sooner or later, especially if he wishes for others to respect him.  If this oracle is as accurate as you believe it could be used to build the foundation of a reputation.¡±

    ¡°Greecey has a point,¡± Kali agreed. ¡°He¡¯s gotta start somewhere, showing up in a decent-sized city with us, especially you Joan, could give him a big boost off the starting line.  If we play it right, we could also have the authorities on our side, that could be a major help if things get messy.¡±

    ¡°Oui, there may be some advantage to that.¡± Joan agreed. ¡°What I fear is that Adam showing himself in such a public manner may attract the attention of those that tried to interfere in his Awakening.  Making it a simpler matter to find him seems unwise.¡±

    ¡°When they last attempted to assault him, they struck when he was at his most vulnerable and when you were alone in protecting him,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°The forces acting in his defence are now far stronger.  Indeed, it would be to our advantage if they attempted something so foolish once more, it would be a fine opportunity to deal with them.¡±

    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s try not to kick off a fight in the middle of the city if we can avoid it,¡± I suggested, waving my arm to try and get the angel¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Probably wouldn¡¯t be too much of a fight,¡± Kali replied. ¡°According to God girl over there you got jumped by a bunch of meat puppets stuffed with hellfire, right?  The only way things got as bad as they did was because they also had that golem to help out.  If they try hittin¡¯ us again with that level of muscle . . . well, sometimes being stupid is a terminal condition.¡±

    True.  I might not have seen too much of what either of the goddesses was capable of, but I was pretty sure they¡¯d go through those homunculi monsters like a chainsaw through fresh cheese.  Throw in Joan and Hadriel, neither of whom could just be dismissed, and me for good measure, and that did make quite the woodchipper to stick your hand into.

    ¡°Enlisting the aid of the Authorities of this city would be a boon,¡± Athena commented. ¡°Though the oracle was precise, it was lacking in detail.  Having more resources to call upon would grant us greater options if circumstances take an unexpected turn.¡±

    ¡°I gotta agree,¡± I chimed in. ¡°It would suck if we get there all geared up for a fight and it turns out that I¡¯m meant to defuse a bomb or something.¡±

    Not that I was expecting a bomb.  I doubted that a prophecy from an angel would have me going there to manage something so mundane.  Of course . . . if it was a nuclear bomb or something on that scale, might that be a different matter?  I could feel the butterflies in my stomach starting to take on new life and vigour as further possibilities started to pile up in my imagination.

    ¡°Perhaps you are right,¡± Joan allowed. ¡°It could be that I am being overly cautious when some bolder action is called for. The cooperation of the local forces de l¡¯ordre may be a wiser option than simply operating on our own.¡±

    ¡°Very well, but do you know where they can be found?  This is a sizable city.¡± Athena enquired, raising a valued argument.

    There was a pause as we all looked around.  Unsurprisingly there wasn¡¯t a large flashing neon sign helpfully pointing out the location of the main local police station.  Or at least, not where we could see it.

    ¡°Well, it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to find them, right?  We can just ask someone.  It¡¯s not like it¡¯s some huge secret.¡± I suggested, then realised the problem with such an approach.

    ¡°Should we risk making such a public spectacle?  If we descend it is not going to go unnoticed.¡±

    Joan voiced my worries even as they occurred to me, but Kali didn¡¯t seem concerned.

    ¡°What''s the worst that can happen?  Adam¡¯s gotta make an appearance sooner or later, so this is as good a place as any.  What, did you want him to touch down in front of Buckingham Palace and have Arthur declare him the rightful protector of all that is good?  Y¡¯know that life¡¯s never that easy, right?¡±

    ¡°A lower-key introduction to the world at large may be a good idea,¡± Athena commented. ¡°It can serve as a testing of the waters prior to a more . . . public revelation.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing in the general area that I can sense that could be a threat,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°I shall ensure his safety, so pursue and course you choose.¡±

    ¡°Adam?¡± Joan asked. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    Wait, I was meant to choose?  When did I end up being the last vote?  Were we voting?  Ahhh, what had the others said?!

    I did my best to keep my face straight and my burst of panic under control.  Seriously, why was I being given the final choice?  They were the ones with lifetimes of experience, an agent of god, a warrior angel, and two goddesses, what was I next to that?  If anyone was meant to choose how I should be revealed to the world shouldn¡¯t I be someone more qualified than me?

    Except . . . this was my life wasn¡¯t it?  no matter how crazy things got or what kind of forces got involved it was still my life.  And if I started giving up control of it because I was getting cold feet over making decisions . . . well, where would that end?

    Was that why Joan was giving me this choice now, or was I just reading too much into it?  well, it didn¡¯t really matter, I wasn¡¯t about to let someone else start leading me around like a horse wearing blinkers, I wanted to take the reins of my own life damn it!

    Looking down at Le Havre from where we were, up in the sky, I could see a couple of green areas, parks I guessed.  That¡¯d be as good a place as any.  Probably plenty of people, but not as many as in a major shopping area.  Fewer cars too, and that was something to keep in mind.  If we came down too near to some roads I wouldn¡¯t put it past some drivers to rubber neck on seeing us, leading to the kinds of piles ups that you normally only see on the news as some sort of disaster.

    Okay, so . . . somewhere away from roads.  Somewhere that hit that sweet spot between too many and too few people.  Somewhere large enough that we could touch down without flattening anything important.

    ¡°Right, how about we go with that park just down there?¡±

    My companions looked at where I was pointing, and then Joan nodded.

    ¡°It is as good as any other location,¡± She allowed.  ¡°Very well, we shall descend there.  Prepare yourself.¡±

    As the sphere of solid light I was in began to fall I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if I¡¯d made the right choice.  Well, it was too late, I¡¯d just have to roll with whatever punches came my way.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    For Avril, it was a normal day.  Well, as normal as things could be after the Black Sun.  She enjoying the sun and reading a magazine at her favourite park.  It was something she¡¯d done on sunny days for some years running, ever since she was a teen looking up details on the latest hot bands and hot boys.  Now though, the magazine she was reading was called ¡®God Watch¡¯ and was filled with the latest news about what gods were doing in America.

    The big news at the moment was that another deity had arrived in Hollywood to try the life of a superstar.  Surprisingly it was one from the Egyptian pantheon this time, a goddess by the name of Meret.  Avril had never heard of her before, but, according to the article, the goddess was a deity tied to acts of rejoicing, such as singing, dancing and storytelling.  Though a relatively minor goddess in her pantheon there was frantic media attention as her first film went into preproduction.

    There were other articles, of course.  Some gossip about Zeus being found in a compromising position with a another company¡¯s principal model.  Speculation about who some demigod in Brazil was dating.  New fashions popping up in China.  All of it was so . . . so new, so exciting

    Honestly, she didn¡¯t mind how much the world had changed, not really.  Her small part of it hadn¡¯t been impacted all that badly, and the rest of it seemed to have been refreshed.  What had once been a pleasant but slightly boring life had been spiced up.  It was like she was watching the world¡¯s greatest movie premiere of all time!

    Of course, when a pair of angels descended to the pavement only a few dozen feet from her, along with a big globe of golden light containing some more indistinct figures, the movie experience suddenly became a lot more real.

    At first, she¡¯d thought that maybe it was just a remarkably vivid daydream, or that she¡¯d nodded off while reading her magazine and she was dreaming for real.  It was only when she dropped her magazine that it came home to her that this was happening.

    She was suddenly paralysed by indecision.  Should she run?  Should she stay?  There could be danger here, she was all too aware of how easily violence could follow the returned legends, the sort of violence that was only safe in a comic book.  But . . . when would she have another chance like this?  When would she be able to see angels with her own eyes?

    Other people were reacting now, and she could see a knot of them starting to form at the edge of the park area.  She noted that it seemed to be mainly made of men, which she supposed wasn¡¯t too much of a surprise.  The angel with the red wings looked like she should be sunning herself on a beach somewhere, given what she was wearing.  The other one might be wearing more, but it didn¡¯t do much to hide her looks.  Avril might not think of herself as beautiful, but she knew she was pretty.  Seeing these two now left  her feeling intensely inadequate.

    Even with that blow to her ego, it was still worth it to hang around and watch.  There was something . . . electrifying to being here, to see it with her own eyes.  Seeing people gathering, hearing the growing murmur of joined voices.  Also, the angels didn¡¯t seem to be stressed or ready to fight.  So, this should be safe, right?

    Any further thoughts that she might have had came to a screeching halt as the globe of light faded and revealed those within.

    First to catch her eyes were the two women.  Both of them were tall, really tall, especially the blonde one.  Avril wasn¡¯t quite sure but given then they towered over the angels by a full head, at least, she guessed they were well over six feet.  On anyone else it might have looked unusual or out of place, but with these women . . .

    If the angels had left her feeling a bit inadequate, then these two made Avril feel almost disfigured by comparison.  To simply call them beautiful was an understatement of almost criminal proportions!  Everything about them seemed perfect, their faces, their bodies, their hair, their very posture, all of it.  Rather than them being too tall she felt as though it was her that was disgustingly stunted.  Compared to them she was ugly, malformed, defective.  They were perfection, while she was all too clearly marred to ever measure up.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    In some effort to preserve her crumbling self-image Avril looked away, turning her attention to the others in the park, trying to gauge their reactions to these . . . these paragons of beauty.  She felt a small stab of petty vindication as she saw jealousy and dismay all too clear on the faces of many of the other women present.  Knowing that she wasn¡¯t the only one suffering a minor identity crisis helped soothe her damaged ego.  Then she noticed how the men were acting and felt a touch of amused pity.  Some were staring goggle-eyed, some with a stunned, almost bovine, expression of mindlessness as though their brains had shut down.  Some were flushing bright red while others seemed to have paled impressively.  One and all they looked as though they could have been hit in the face with a live fish and they wouldn¡¯t have even noticed.  Then she saw the expression on the faces of a few of them, and she felt her amusement wither into something . . . sour.

    Their looks reminded her of the alcoholics she¡¯d served when she¡¯d worked at a bar.  The ones that had been refused their tenth drink.  The ones that had to be kicked out when they got desperate.

    Now she was seeing that look again in the faces of these men as they saw the two women.  There was a lust, a craving and need that was edging towards desperation far too quickly.

    Of course, even this need was being tempered by fear and caution.  Yes, those women were beautiful enough to make even a straight woman have some unexpected thoughts, but they were also just as intimidating.  Just by looking at them, you could tell that they weren¡¯t . . . normal.  The air around them felt heavy, even from way over where Avril was still sitting.  More than that though, everything about them seemed to be more, just more.  It was as though there was too much of them there for the space they occupied, as though their tall forms were somehow the concentration of something that should have been a hundred times larger.  The men and boys that looked on might be captivated, but some small primitive part of them still screamed at them not to put their heads into the tiger¡¯s mouth.

    Avril¡¯s eyes returned to the . . . women?  Goddesses?  Angels without wings?  She had no way of knowing what they were, only that they sure as hell weren¡¯t regular mortals.  Whatever the case, as she looked back at them her eyes were drawn to the last member of the small group.

    The first thing she noticed was that it was another angel, those white wings were huge, bigger than those of the other two.  The next thing she noticed was that unlike everyone else in the group, this was a guy.  Sure, he was facing away from her, but she could tell by the set of his shoulders and what she could see of his hips.  Well, it was either a guy or a really butch female angel.  She was just having an internal chuckle at that thought when he turned, and she got a good look at his face.

    If the women had brought her thoughts to a screeching halt, then the sight of this man caused her train of thought to fly off the rails, crash into an imaginary mountain and then explode in a massive fireball.

    Avril didn¡¯t think of herself as shallow, she wasn¡¯t someone who just chased after someone just for their looks.  Sure, she liked a handsome face as much as the next girl, but she¡¯d always held a sort of lofty pity for those girls that lost their heads when faced with some pretty boy type

    Such thoughts didn¡¯t even raise a peep in her head as she gazed at that . . . that divine face.

    Divine, that was a good word for it, beyond human, perfect, sculpted by the hands of the greatest god of all and then placed on a pedestal to be worshipped.  Snowy white hair as radiant as his wings, dark tanned skin that shone with a smoothness and vitality no mortal could match, eyes the colour of molten gold.  All of it served to frame and highlight features so fine and flawless that she could feel her heart ache just to look at them.

    Before she knew it, she was on her feet, stumbling towards the group, her magazine dropped behind her.  She didn¡¯t have any real plan, she just wanted to be closer to him, to be able to get a better look.  Already she could see the way his shirt was hugging muscles that stood out against the cloth in a manner that could only be called ¡®delicious¡¯.  Every step closer seemed to bring some new, tantalising, detail into focus.  Vaguely she was aware of other movement around her, but she paid it no mind.

    All she cared about was the beautiful man before her.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Setting down in the city port felt good.  It had been about a month since I¡¯d had to leave my home, but it seemed like so much longer.  I¡¯d gotten used to the wide-open fields surrounding the farmhouse, to the distant woods and the even wider-open sky.  Of course, being stuck in the Sanctuary led to me feeling increasingly antsy as my wanderlust started to build.  The new skyline, the new environment, something about it managed to scratch an itch that had been building.

    ¡°Hello.  Could you direct us to the main police station?¡±

    Hearing Joan asking the question in French brought me back to the present, a note of interest rising up in me as I noted I could understand her perfectly.  There wasn¡¯t even that weird translation effect that I¡¯d had while talking to Etienne, that had been different.  Back then I¡¯d gotten the words through the link we¡¯d shared they¡¯d been in French, which I hadn¡¯t understood.  The meaning of each word had come through the link though, so even if I hadn¡¯t understood I¡¯d still known what he was saying.

    Now . . . Did I know French?  When had that happened?  What was really shocking was just how natural it sounded.  Over the last few weeks, I¡¯d grown used to Joan peppering her words with some French here and there, but it wasn¡¯t as though I¡¯d understood it all.  Most of it I¡¯d gotten from context, nothing more.  Or, at least, that¡¯s what I¡¯d thought.  Had another ability been kicking in?

    ¡°Uuuuuh . . . urgmuum . . . uyumuhhuh!¡±

    Or maybe not?  I thought that I was clearly understanding French, but now all I could hear was gibberish coming out of the mouth of the guy Joan had asked.  Was this new power on the fritz right after I got it?

    ¡°I . . . Uh . . . I . . . I . . . I know where! I . . . I go past it every day!  I . . . I . . . Where is it?¡±

    Or maybe the poor guy had just been reduced to mindless babbling when faced with my companions.  It was a combination of besotted stupidity and absolute panic that would have been funny if I had seen it on a TV screen.  In real life . . . there was something pitiable about it, but also something slightly disturbing.

    ¡°I KNOW WHERE IT IS!¡±

    The guy Joan had asked was suddenly shoved to the side by someone else, someone whose smile had an edge of mania to it.  His eyes were too wide, his expression too intense.  He seems to be only just holding himself back from doing . . .  something, his muscles twitching with pent-up energy.

    ¡°BACK OFF!  I . . . I KNOW!¡±

    The first man didn¡¯t take the shove passively though, coming back as soon as he¡¯d regained his balance, but that wasn¡¯t until after he stumbled into someone else.  That man had been in a daze as well, staring at Kali with a rather disturbing intensity, but as soon as he was jostled he seemed to snap out of it.  Unfortunately, the first thing he did was to lunge towards us, uncaring of who he barrelled through.  Those he disturbed seemed to snap back to reality as well and . . .

    ¡°Hey!  HEY!!¡±

    His lunge was brought short as he was grabbed from behind by one of the people he¡¯d shoved.  Without even taking his eyes off the dark-haired goddess the man lashed out, blindly swinging at whoever was holding him back.  The blow was a glancing one, but it provoked a vicious response in return sending the two men sprawling.

    Right into more of those that had been standing around in a daze.

    I watched with a sort of horrified fascination as the whole thing went down like dominos one after another.  Someone would be knocked back to reality, and then get dragged into the fight, which would in turn drag more people in and get bigger, then reach more people.  What was even worse was the blindly aggressive and mindless way people were acting.  More often than not they¡¯d be focused on the women with me, at least until something got in their way, then they¡¯d focus on getting rid of it with almost maniacal intensity.

    It all happened so fast that I found myself stunned, unsure of what to do.  Yes, I could have used my arcana TK to pull them apart, to stop the fights and settle things down, but I found myself stunned by the sudden intensity of it.  I¡¯m sure that if I¡¯d had a few more seconds, then I would have pulled myself together and done something practical.  However, I didn¡¯t get those seconds.

    ¡°MARRY ME!!¡±

    ¡°NO!  ME!!¡±

    ¡°I WANT YOUR BABIES!!¡±

    The shouts came from the side and came so suddenly that I nearly jumped out of my skin.  More shockingly, the voices were unmistakably feminine.  I turned to face them, expecting to see some women focused on my companions.  Internally I was feeling exasperation at the absurdity of the situation.  Not just men besotted with them now, but women too.

    Any such thoughts vanished from my mind as I turned . . . and realised that the women coming at us weren¡¯t focused on my companions.  Rather, I was the one they all had their eyes locked on.

    I couldn¡¯t quite put into words how I felt when I realised that every woman and girl in that knot of more than a dozen was staring at me with laser-focused amorous intent as they advanced.  I mean, I was a straight guy who had a healthy interest in the fairer sex.  Just like any other guy on the planet, I¡¯d dreamt about what it would be like to have hordes of beautiful women go crazy over me.  It was just the typical wild fantasy fuelled by teenage hormones and a lack of deep thought.

    Facing that fantasy in reality . . . wasn¡¯t quite as terrifying as facing Etienne¡¯s monstrous form, but it did manage to rank pretty close behind it.

    My shield came up before purely on reflex, larger and flatter than my normal globe, but covering a greater area.  I just barely had enough presence of mind to make it softer than its normal glass-like strength.  As the women ran into it, it was as though they''d hit a giant invisible pillow, their charge being robbed of any sort of momentum.  For a moment the . . . lust?  Hunger?  Desperation? Whatever it was on their faces, was replaced with confusion.  Then they started to push at the barrier, clawing at it.  I was just lucky that they spread out along it, rather than pushing at each other

    ¡°Hey!  HEY!  LET ME THROUGH!¡±

    ¡°Please, please, please, please, PLEEAASSEEE!!!¡±

    ¡°ME! CHOOSE ME!  ME!  ME!!¡±

    I just didn¡¯t know how to handle this!  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a golden glow that I guessed meant Joan was using her power.  Most likely she was putting up a barrier as well, and I hoped she was showing as much restraint as I was.  In front the women pushed on, trying to reach through the barrier even as it held them back.  It didn¡¯t make my situation any easier though.  I could keep holding them back, but that was all.  How was I meant to fix this?  What was I meant to do?!

    ¡°I¡¯LL DO ANYTHING!¡±

    Had that been a bra thrown at my shield?

    ¡°LOOK AT ME!  I¡¯M GORGEOUS!¡±

    Was that guy stripping down and posing?  Sure, he was in pretty good shape, but what the hell?!  And who was he calling to?  Me or the others?

    ¡°If . . . if you won¡¯t look at me, I¡¯ll . . . I WON¡¯T WANT TO GO ON!!¡±

    That last one was like a bucket of cold water to the face.  Yeah, the mess was overwhelming, but there¡¯d been a sort of mad humour to seeing so many people going nuts, and acting so crazy.  Someone making a threat that sounded way too much like suicide, that killed any humour in the situation dead.

    What could I do?  What could I do?!  My mind seemed to speed up as I mentally ran through options.  Unfortunately, none of them were all that good.  My magic was versatile but for a soft take-down of so many people?  Not so much.

    A taser, could that work?  Use lightning, but not at full power, just enough to stun, not kill?  Yeah, and how many people would I give a heart attack or some other health problem?  God help me if I got some poor sod with a pacemaker.  The same went for controlling air to choke them out, or water drowning them.  With just one target I might be willing to risk it, but so many, not a chance.  Grabbing them all with TK?  Okay, that was a bit more of a viable option.  The problem was that these weren¡¯t logs or rocks.  Yes, I had the power to grab that many targets and hold them in place, but with them wriggling around, trying to break free, would I be able to watch my strength?  One mistake and I might end up breaking limbs and ribs as easily as I did twigs and plant stalks when practicing.

    ¡°Let me in!  LET ME IN!!¡±

    Damn it!  Things were escalating quickly, the women held back by the shield were looking more desperate with every passing second.

    ¡°WHAT DO YOU WANT?!  I¡¯LL DO ANYTHING!  ANYTHING!!¡±

    And by the sounds of it, the men on the other side weren¡¯t doing any better.  I had to think of something soon or-

    ¡°Enough of this.  *<u>SLEEP!</u>*¡±

    The single word was infused with so much power that for a moment I felt my eyes go heavy.  That was more than a little terrifying, considering that I instinctively knew that I hadn¡¯t even been the target of the word¡¯s power.  What I¡¯d felt was just the edge, the periphery of what it was capable of.

    Then I saw what it was intended for.  The women, who had only an instant before been shoving and clawing at my barrier as though the secret to eternal happiness was on the other side, blinked owlishly a couple of times, then half lay down, half collapsed in place.  be it on grass or pavement, they all just settled down and conked out as though they¡¯d gotten into bed after a long day¡¯s work.  Turning around I saw that the men were the same, all prone on the ground, eyes shut, breathing deep and regular.

    The sudden shift was . . . jarring, to say the least.  Only seconds ago, the situation had been tense, pressured, and almost overwhelming.  Now, I could hear the sound of gentle snoring coming from several different directions, any hint of danger had vanished, and the adrenaline in my system didn¡¯t have anything to burn itself out on.

    ¡°Wh . . . wha . . .¡±

    I was going to blame my inability to form a coherent sentence on my body and mind still being too stuck in flight or fight mode.  Without answering directly Athena stepped past me to take a look at the sleeping women, her every movement as confident and authoritative as a general strolling through an army base.

    ¡°Such a . . . lack of restraint or decorum.¡± She murmured, more to herself than to me. ¡°When I last walked this plane mortals had better self-control in the face of divine beauty.  They knew to kneel or to admire, not attempt to force their attentions upon the one they beheld.  They are fortunate they do not face Hera or Aphrodite.  In the face of such disrespect, neither of them would be as merciful as I have been.¡±

    ¡°Uuuh . . . what¡¯d you do?¡± I finally managed to get out.

    ¡°A relatively simple spell,¡± Athena replied. ¡°They shall rest in the domain of Hypnos for a short time, then awaken refreshed and unharmed.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you knew magic.¡± Sure, she might have the common suite of abilities, including the power of Punishment, but to the best of my knowledge, Athena hadn¡¯t been depicted as being a sorceress of any sort.

    ¡°Though I do not claim to possess such mastery of the mystic arts as Hecate or Circe, I am the goddess of wisdom.  Wisdom includes knowledge of the more shadowed arts, enough that such enchantments are well within my ability.¡±

    She paused for a moment, looking at me.

    ¡°It shall certainly be a part of your education once we begin.  You have shown acceptable skill in the wielding of the elements and the raw forces of the arcane, especially for one who is self-taught, but as of yet, you are unfamiliar with other aspects of magic use.  The influencing of others, both in mind and body, is far more complex than the simple generation and manipulation of direct force.  Still, as you can see, it can be quite useful.¡±

    Wow!  Suddenly I was looking at the Greek goddess in a whole new light.  Sure, I¡¯d known she was powerful and knowledgeable, and I¡¯d even known she was going to teach me, but I¡¯d just been thinking of that as an extension of what Joan and Hadriel had already been doing.  They¡¯d been helping me with the direct combat applications of what I was able to work out of my powers.  That and drilling basic combat skills into me, like flight-based combat and how to throw a proper punch.  From Athena I¡¯d been expecting stuff like instruction on strategy and tactics, maybe some weapon training.  The idea that she could help me with my magic hadn¡¯t even crossed my mind, something that was proving to be quite the error it would seem.

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s something to look forward to.  But right now . . . what are we going to do here?¡±

    It had only been something like five minutes since we got here, at the absolute most.  Things had gone from slow, to fast, to too fast, and back to slow.

    ¡°I believe I can tell you.¡±

    The man who had approached us while I¡¯d been distracted was quite clearly a policeman.  He was dressed in a t-shirt due to the hot weather, but the tactical vest he wore over it had the word ¡®police¡¯ printed in white across it very clearly.  He also had a gun, though it remained in its holster and the man was very pointedly not reaching for it.  he was also addressing Joan, and quite pointedly not looking at anyone else.  I could see a flush on his face, but he was managing to keep professional.  It would seem that we¡¯d found the police we were looking for, just not under the circumstances we would have preferred.  Why couldn¡¯t he have been here just a few minutes earlier?

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll need you all to come with me.¡±

    Oh yeah, things had not gone as planned.

 Chapter 8: Official Business: Part One

    Chapter 8: Official Business: Part One

    ¡°So, you didn¡¯t mean to start a small riot, but it happened anyway.  Is that what you¡¯re telling me?¡±

    It was taking a considerable amount of Hadriel¡¯s willpower to keep her irritation in check.  After the sorry mess at the park had been brought into some semblance of order, she, her charge, and their divine companions had all been brought to the police station they had been looking for.  Unfortunately, it was not for the purpose they had intended.  To her irritation they were being treated as though the mortal¡¯s irrational behaviour had been their responsibility.

    At least the mortal tasked with their interview was a respectable example of his kind.  As they had walked in Hadriel had felt far too many gazes lingering on her form, gazes tainted by lust and envy.  Even so, the red-winged angel was not so delicate as as to be disturbed by the unpleasant experience.  Still, in a way she was grateful for the goddesses overshadowing her as far as beauty went as they had drawn even more of the unwanted attention.

    Hadriel was aware that by their very nature mortals were vulnerable to their base animal urges tied to the needs of their bodies.  She knew that the amorous attention directed to her was merely a part of their drive to ensure their species would continue after their short-lived existence ended.  However, she also knew that some of the looks directed at her were not simply driven by a desire for a mate or a progeny.  She had felt the malice and cruelty behind some of the looks directed at her.  A warrior as skilled as she could sense and read killing intent as easily as a sailor could read the waves.  She could feel the desire within many of those gazes, a wish to see her debased, humiliated, brought low and sullied.  Entering this room and escaping those tainted eyes had been a relief.

    The man that had met them had been more elderly than she had been expecting.  Ageing was something she knew of intellectually, but not something she had much experience with.  As angels grew older, they did not wither or degrade, instead, they only grew stronger, more potent, just as was true for many other powerful beings.  Death by combat was something she was familiar with, this slow descent towards a final end, what they called againg, not so much.

    The man was short, overweight, and balding.  Wrinkles edged his face and there was a slight sense of fragility to his skin.  Still, there was a fierce light in his eyes, and the way he looked at them all, even the goddesses, without being swayed spoke to a strong will.  Yes, the flesh might be ageing, but the mind and soul would seem to be worthy of note.

    It was a shame he seemed to be annoyed with them.

    ¡°Yes, officer,¡± Joan nodded, maintaining her calm with admirable control. ¡°We made no moves to incite any sort of violence, matters simply developed faster than we were able to react to.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± The policeman made no effort to hide the scepticism in his voice as he glanced down at a sheet of paper on the table before him. ¡°Because I have the written testimony of more than a dozen people who are all claiming that you influenced them to act out like they did.  A couple of them are even planning to sue you for, and I¡¯m quoting here, ¡®using mind control to force them to break the law¡¯.¡±

    ¡°WHAT?!¡±

    The outraged question came from Adam, who had reversed and straddled a chair to the side.  Until now he had been quiet, preferring to let Joan and Athena handle the talking, but this seemed to be too much for him.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the mortal law enforcer replied. ¡°One of them was a guy that ended up knocking someone unconscious, he¡¯s saying that¡¯s the fault of you guys, that he¡¯d never do that on his own.  Then there¡¯s that one that tried to strip down.  Apparently, he¡¯s also blaming you guys.  Both of them have been asking for their lawyers.  There¡¯re also some of the women wanting to file charges against you, saying that whatever you did to them is level with trying to slip them a date rape drug.  Things¡¯re still up in the air since there¡¯s no physical evidence or anything like that, but then everything goes back to magic and just how the law¡¯s meant to treat it.  You¡¯re lucky there since nothing¡¯s been decided yet, you can¡¯t be charged with anything yet.  Still, I bet they can make your life miserable in court if they really want to though.¡±

    Adam seemed to just . . . slump at that, as though he had a sudden burden upon his shoulders.

    ¡°Surely these spurious fausse charges cannot be taken seriously,¡± Joan protested. ¡°I can assure you that no member of our group used any sort of magic upon the people present.  Their reaction was simply a natural result of . . . being witness to the beauty of genuine divine beings.  I believe it can be said without modesty that my companions are all fine examples of such, to say the least.  What happened was regrettable but in no way a deliberate action upon our part.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± her charge agreed, pushing himself up straight. ¡°If some Hollywood star had some trouble because some fans got too excited, you wouldn¡¯t be blaming them for it, right?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± The officer allowed. ¡°But stars like that don¡¯t just turn up at a park unannounced and let everyone see them.  Things¡¯re planned, precautions are taken, precisely so that things like this don¡¯t happen.¡±

    ¡°We had no ill intentions.¡± Joan once more affirmed.

    ¡°Maybe, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you kicked off this whole mess.  What did you think was going to happen?¡±

    ¡°I admit, we underestimated the effects of our presence upon the mortals, but I hardly believe this can be held against us,¡± Athena spoke up, her voice crisp and confident. ¡°I have attended a number of events while serving in my father¡¯s enterprises, and such chaos has not broken out before.¡±

    ¡°Indeed?  What about that idiot who tried to ambush you outside your main offices with that bouquet of roses, the one who tried to rush through the place''s security and ended up having to be tased because he wouldn¡¯t give up?  You¡¯re saying he wasn¡¯t affected by your looks?¡±

    Hadriel noted that Adam winced at that.  He did his best to hide it, but she caught it nonetheless.  For her part Athena remained unruffled, her poise utterly undisturbed.

    ¡°If you have followed that event then you will be aware that subsequent enquiries into the background of that fool proved that he had a history of mental instability.  Exposure to myself simply exacerbated an existing condition and gave him a new focus for his delusions.¡±

    ¡°Are you suggesting that everyone who rioted today is suffering from mental problems?¡±

    There was a definite edge to the question.  This mortal might be weak enough that any of them could have broken his bones like dried twigs, but he wasn¡¯t submitting to them even an inch.

    ¡°Do not put words in my mouth,¡± The Greek goddess replied, her voice still as calm as a lake in midsummer. ¡°You are an experienced law officer; you are well aware that in a situation such as that, all that is required is for one fool to take the wrong action.  All that is needed is for one mortal to lose control, to push or hit one other person.  That is all that is required to turn a crowd into a mob.¡±

    There was a moment of silence as the goddess and the mortal stared at each other, and then the policeman leaned back in his chair.

    ¡°Very well, let me put my cards on the table,¡± His tone sounded tired now, even though there was still the same steel Hadriel had heard in it before. ¡°I damned well know that there¡¯s no way I can charge you for anything.  Other cops around the world have tried to arrest gods and angels before, and I know how well it¡¯s gone for them.  Everyone in this station knows that we could hit you with everything we¡¯ve got and the most we can do is annoy you, and probably end up dead as a result.¡±

    He sat back up, his back straightening and his hands were now flat on the table.

    ¡°Why are you here, in this city?  I¡¯m not going to ask who you are; I really don¡¯t want to deal with the headache of knowing names and legends.  Just tell me why you¡¯re here, and how we can get you out as soon as we can.¡±

    Well, if nothing else Hadriel had to admire the utterly blunt honesty with which they were being addressed.  This mortal was practical and to the point.  He obviously wanted to deal with matters as quickly as possible.

    ¡°We are here to help.¡±

    Joan spoke with every bit of the forthrightness that should be expected of a soul the Almighty deemed worthy of note, but in response, the officer simply directed a flat look at her.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a funny way of doing it.¡±

    ¡°We have established that such . . . disorder was not our intention,¡± The reborn saint¡¯s voice grew slightly colder as she met the look with a steely one of her own. ¡°I have received a proph¨¦tie from an angel.  We were given a time and a place where we could help, where we would be needed.  We have come to this city following that pr¨¦diction.  We intend no harm to this city or any within it, we merely seek to lend aid where we can , or prevent the rise of some danger.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    There was a pause, then the policeman heaved a sigh that seemed to contain the weight of ages within it.

    ¡°You know, life was so much simpler this time last year.  If someone had someone saying that they¡¯d been talking to an angel then my options would have been simple.  I¡¯d have checked that they weren¡¯t drunk, high, off their meds or ill.  Yeah, it could get messy, but at least I knew where I stood.  Now . . . now it¡¯s not like I can say you¡¯re crazy, not with an angel standing right behind you!¡±

    That last part was spoken as he waved one hand at Hadriel.  Then he closed his eyes and massaged his forehead before scanning his eyes over the small group.

    ¡°So, you want to help?  What are you going to do?  Is there is some sort of imminent danger?¡±

    ¡°Sadly, we know little,¡± Joan admitted. ¡°The directions we were granted simply gave us a time and a place.  We were seeking to contact the local police forces when we arrived.  It was our hope that we could help one another ensure the safety of the citizens.  We did not anticipate such an . . . extreme reaction to asking for directions.¡±

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start with that,¡± The police officer leaned forward. ¡°Where and when do you have to be?¡±

    ¡°At one of the main docks, and it shall be tonight, at three o¡¯clock in the morning.¡±

    The officer nodded slowly in response, his eyes losing focus as his attention momentarily turned inwards.

    ¡°That could work to our advantage.  Most of the docks have been seeing reduced traffic due to the disturbances in the Channel, and at night it¡¯s even quieter.  If we¡¯re lucky then there shouldn¡¯t be anyone about that can¡¯t quickly be evacuated.¡±

    ¡°Do you know of a suitable middle point where we can wait for signs of where we would be needed?¡± Athena asked.

    Hadriel watched as the conversation continued, pleased that it no longer appeared as though the local authorities would impede their mission.  She had no interest in listening to the minor details being resolved.  Instead, she turned her attention to her charge.

    Adam seemed relieved that matters had been resolved without conflict, but she also noted a nervous tension to him that had not been there when they left the farmhouse.  Fear, another mortal emotion she had minimal experience with herself.  As an angel, she had faced foes that could slay her, but the crimson-winged divine soldier felt no trepidation when she did.  Certainly, there had been some concern, but that was only that her death would mean an end to the service and loyalty she could render to her creator.  The manner in which mortals were concerned for their lives made little sense to her.

    This fear of Adam¡¯s seemed to be of a somewhat different variety.  Perhaps a fear of failure, rather than of death.  This was something she could understand slightly more, even if it was still foreign to her.  Failing her creator, was a thought that made her heart go cold.

    Seeing it in him, the demigod she had been assigned to aid and protect, she was once again reminded of just how mortal he still was.

    Well, perhaps whatever was coming would allow her to finally see whatever quality he possessed that made him so valuable in the eyes of fate.  In fact . . . her eyes drifted from Adam to the two goddesses.  Perhaps this would be an opportunity to see the mettle of her new companions as well.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    For the first time in days, I finally had some time to myself.  Whatever was going to happen wouldn¡¯t be going down until late at night, and it was only mid-afternoon.

    Sure, I had some nerves to deal with, since tonight looked like it was going to be . . . interesting, but I finally had some spare time to try and distract myself.  Honestly, I mainly wanted to hit the shops!  I still had my wallet, and I had the credit cards Athena had given me.  I was rich!  Rich!  RICH!  A part of me just wanted to go on a crazy shopping spree to take my mind off things.

    Of course, I did have some problems.  Expensive clothes? Most I couldn¡¯t wear because of my wings.  Gadgets, a new laptop, a games console, that kind of thing?  Where was I going to carry them?  It wasn¡¯t like my pouch of holding had unlimited capacity.  A fancy sports car?  Same as the clothes, I couldn¡¯t even get in one because of my wings.  Yeah, going crazy with my money might have been fun, but the practical part of my brain kept on getting in the way.

    Then there was also the whole ¡®looking good enough to mess with people¡¯s heads¡¯ thing I had going on.  Thinking back to the park I couldn¡¯t help but feel a shudder run down my spine.  True, I doubted there was a straight guy in the world who hadn¡¯t at least once daydreamed about being chased by a horde of infatuated women, but the reality wasn¡¯t nearly as fun.  It made me leery of going out before I got a better handle on it.  Maybe I should ask Athena if she had any tips, she had been in a highly public role in her company after all.

    For a moment I just wanted to go home, to my real home, the house I shared with my friends.  I wanted to crash on my bed, read some classic pulp sci-fi novel, browse on the internet, just normal stuff.  It had been weeks since I last checked out the Divine Versus forum, there¡¯d be lots to catch up on.  Hell, I was even out of date on what was going on in the world in general.  China could have invaded Russia, kicking off the much-feared war, and I¡¯d be completely clueless.

    Actually . . . that was something I could do from here, at least I hoped so.

    Glancing around I took in what the others were doing.  Joan was still talking with the officer she¡¯d been talking to before, though now their discussion seemed to be a bit more informal.  Athena had produced some high-end cell phone and was having a conversation with someone on the other end.  I heard something about ¡®product management¡¯ and ¡®resource cost allocation¡¯ and guessed she was touching base with her pantheon¡¯s corporation.  Hadriel was just leaning against a wall, watching me.  As always, she was utterly unconcerned with the fact that she looked like she¡¯d just stepped out of a swimsuit modelling magazine, though I noticed several people slowing down as they walked past the window that looked into the office, we were in.  As for Kali . . .

    The Hindu goddess had kicked her feet up on a desk, leaned her back almost to the point of tipping over, and seemed to be peacefully taking a nap.  Honestly, the way she could ignore the subtle tension to nap or the way she effortlessly kept her balance while asleep, I wasn¡¯t sure which impressed me more.

    ¡°I¡¯m just going to try something.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t really talking to anyone, and I think the only one who actually noticed I¡¯d said anything was Hadriel.  Still, I didn¡¯t wait to find out how she¡¯d respond, instead, I folded my wings in as tightly as I could and slipped out of the room.  As soon as I was in the corridor beyond the window, I went up to the first person to walk by.  hoping I wasn¡¯t making a stupid mistake I offered a polite smile and asked:

    ¡°Hi, do you know if there¡¯s a spare computer I could borrow for a few minutes?  There¡¯re some things I¡¯ve got to check, and I haven¡¯t had access to the net for weeks.¡±

    The person I was asking was a woman who looked to be in her late thirties and had a no-nonsense air about her.  She was smartly dressed, a bit overweight, and was carrying a large pile of files.  She could have been anyone from a detective going over info to a filing clerk taking away used documents.  All in all, she looked like she belonged here.

    So, seeing her gawk and then blush didn¡¯t really feel right.  It didn¡¯t fit.  Lucky for me it looked as though she was made of sterner stuff than the people in the park because I could visibly see the moment she shrugged off whatever effect my looks had on her.

    ¡°A . . . a computer?  Yes, I think we¡¯ve got one again.¡±

    Once again, I was fascinated by this new ability I had with languages.  Yeah, I could already speak some, enough to get by as a tourist.  Now, I just understood it, all the little things behind the words, the meanings, the way certain words together could mean something more than the sum of the parts, things I should only get after years of speaking it.  and as for talking, that just came naturally.  I thought about what I wanted in English, but as I went to speak it, it just became French, perfectly.  It was what I meant to say, not the literal translation from English.

    My thoughts of this odd ability were quickly dismissed as the woman I¡¯d been speaking to waved me over to a room a couple of doors down from where I¡¯d been.  Inside was a fairly large office, though the lack of any personal touches and a thin film of dust on some spots made me think it hadn¡¯t been used for a while.  There were three desks, but only one had a computer on it.  The woman I¡¯d followed switched it on, typed in a couple of passwords and then turned to me.

    ¡°Okay.  I¡¯ve put it in visitor mode, so you can use it to browse the net, but not access any internal file.  Just so you know, this thing keeps a history which will be reviewed, so be careful where you go.¡±

    That . . . was surprisingly easy.  I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d been expecting, but it hadn¡¯t been for the first person I asked to simply agree and give me what I wanted.  It must have shown on my face because she looked at me and offered a small smile, one a bit more at ease than the slightly awed and stunned look she¡¯d had before.

    ¡°Look, you¡¯ve got angel wings, you¡¯ve got an angel following you around, you¡¯ve got Jeanne d¡¯Arc herself helping you.  I think it¡¯s okay to trust you with just about anything you want.¡±

    Right, that made a bit more sense.  Not wanting to push my luck I nodded and made my way to the computer.  Once again, I had to swing the chair around so I was straddling it, because of my wings, but after a bit, I was steady, if not comfortable. I noticed that the door was still ajar and that Hadriel had set herself outside it like a guard, but I ignored it in favour of finally having access to the internet.

    And then I froze in place as choice paralysis gripped me.

    My first impulse was to log into my private mail and see what messages were waiting for me.  I desperately wanted to contact my parents and my friends and let them know I was doing okay.  Hell, I was doing better than okay!  I¡¯d been able to handle the weeks I¡¯d been out of touch by focusing on what was in front of me, my training, my magic, my new wings.  That had been easy, that had been straightforward.  Dealing with my worries . . . not so much.  Hell, even the mess with Etienne and the goddesses had been easier to deal with than the worries and doubts eating at me.

    The problem was, could I afford to give in to personal wishes?

    We¡¯d come here because Joan had gotten info that something important was going to go down tonight.  If that was the case, then shouldn¡¯t I be doing my best to get ready?  Wouldn¡¯t it be better to know what was going on in the world, in case whatever we¡¯d be involved with was related?  What if I needed to know something, but I didn¡¯t learn it because I dealing with personal stuff?

    Nevermind, I didn¡¯t have endless time, but I did have a few hours at least.  Sure, it might be less than I thought if the others wanted to leave early to get set up ahead of time, but I should still have a good chunk to work with.  Doing one didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t do the other.

    The first order of business was finding out what was going on in the world.  Getting myself up to speed on anything that might end up dragging me in was the more immediate worry.  I¡¯d still devote time to friends and family, but only after I dealt with forearming myself with info.

    It didn¡¯t take me long to get onto Divine Versus and navigate my way to the page I was looking for.

    The way the page was set up was fairly simple, people just posted the threads they wanted, and the list was set up chronologically.  You could filter the list, choose to leave out threads that were too short, focus on the long-running ones, search for specific topics, and all sorts of things.  My account had my preferences already saved and I wasn¡¯t interested in messing with them at the moment.  I wanted stuff that was important enough to be big news and that had been verified by at least five of the sites¡¯ Moderators, no wild speculations or hoaxes if I could avoid them. I wasn¡¯t interested in conspiracy theories, fan fiction, debates or minor interest threads, I wanted the good stuff.

 Chapter 8: Official Business: Part Two

    Chapter 8: Official Business: Part Two

    The first title drew a smile to my face as I saw it.

    JOAN OF ARC SPOTTED IN FRANCE!!!!  Breaking news, France¡¯s most famous saint might really be on Earth!

    For a moment I was tempted to open the page and see if there was anything there about me, but I moved on to the more general stuff, the threads that had been opened over the last week, not the last few minutes.  Sure, there were loads of them, so I¡¯d just read the ones that got the most hits, the ones that had the most traction

    News from China!  Official international investigators will be allowed in to assess the state of human rights and population condition!

    Okay, that was good news.  Hopefully getting some official eyes into the nation now run by the Celestial Bureaucracy would do something to reduce international tension.  Far too many nations were on a hair-trigger since China was taken over.  The only reason that war hadn¡¯t broken out was that the fall of the Chinese government had shown just how futile it was to go up against gods with the weapons mankind had.  Getting eyes in there . . . I hoped it would do some good.

    Further conflict erupts in Africa as demigod warlords clash in efforts to expand territory!

    Not good.  Central and southern Africa had been consumed by an almost non-stop war since the first demigods revealed themselves.  It started with just two of them, but more had shown up as time passed.  Other countries were more than happy for their ambitious demigods to go somewhere else to cause general mayhem, but for the people there it had to be hell.  The only reason most of central and southern Africa hadn¡¯t been reduced to a wasteland was that several of the demigods involved had powers that let them restore the land and even rebuild villages and towns.  Some new kingdoms were managing to endure and gain traction, but it looked like the fighting hadn¡¯t gotten any calmer while I was gone.

    Not good, but probably not something I had to worry about right now.

    New developments in Hollywood!  Olympus Industries opens up a new studio branch!  Will more gods take the big screen by storm?

    Secret antigod weapons research in Arizona leaked?

    Both of those were over in America, so again, not my concern right now.  Though I did make a note to look up the updaye later.  I was a fan of Apollo¡¯s films, so more of the same could only be a good thing in my opinion.

    Killings in Spanish middle school might have connections with new cult worshipping an unknown god!

    Okay, that was closer to home and pretty damned horrible.  I opened it up and had a quick look, after all, Spain wasn¡¯t too far from where I was, especially if you brought powers into the mix.  Thisbeing connected to Joan¡¯s Oracle wasn¡¯t impossible.

    A quick read left me pretty sure it wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d be having to deal with though.  According to the info it looked like the ¡®cult¡¯ was a group of antisocial types that had gotten together and ended up feeding on each other¡¯s resentment in the worst way possible.  According to the article the ¡®cult¡¯ was either dead or in prison, things mostly settled.  There was something about the upcoming trial, but nothing that hinted anything was unresolved.  Nothing that might get me involved.

    Encinitas California shocked as hundreds of barrels suspected to hold toxic chemicals are washed up on beach!  Supernatural influence suspected!

    Over in America again, and not something I could get involved in.  Not from where I was anyway.

    Standoff in Russia continues as Skadi defends the territory and communities she has claimed as hers!

    A bit more concerning, but still not anywhere nearby.  The name was familiar though, and it took me a moment to place it.  Skadi was a Norse goddess, if I remembered right, and a powerful one.  Powerful as in ¡® Odin, king of the Norse gods, didn¡¯t want to mess with her¡¯ powerful.  I was going to have to look into this one a bit more once I had some more free time.

    Mass disappearance in Australia causes surprisingly little panic as relatives are contacted in dreams that the vanished are safe!

    Okay, interesting, but again, not what I was looking for.

    Heroic rescue in Saltlake City!  New demigod succeeds in saving a whole family and their dog from a burning house!

    Okay, that made for a few minutes of more uplifting reading.  It was a nice happy story, and the picture of the dog was a cute touch.  Not something to do with me though.

    Investigation into the White Moon still yields no results!  The French government may have to call in foreign specialists in response to mounting pressure!

    That one caught my eye.  The White Moon?  What was that?  It had happened in France so . . . had I missed it because I was in the Hallowed Sanctuary?  Still, it looked like something I should investigate.  Maybe that was why we were here because something was going to happen tonight to do with this White Moon.  Clicking on the link I opened the page and started reading.

    A few minutes later I was brought out of my rather stunned state by the feeling of one of my wings grinding against something solid.  Looking up it took me a moment to realise that I¡¯d unconsciously spread my wings behind me as I read my way through the thread.  The sword-like feathers on one wing had started to dig into the plaster of the nearest wall, sinking in easily until they hit some concrete.  It was enough to get me off the rails my mind had been stuck on.

    Me . . . I was responsible for the White Moon.

    I¡¯d read the descriptions and it talked about a massive sphere that had been identified as an Awakening Flare. A massive white sphere of energy that had lit up the world at night and had been visible the world during the day.    Something that had appeared on the same night I completed my Awakening.

    I didn¡¯t have to be a genius to line up the pieces.

    I¡¯d spent more than twenty minutes numbly reading people talk about the White Moon, what it had done, what it might have signified, and what they thought it meant about the demigod that had caused it.  There were literally hundreds of people speculating about this, the French government had created an entire intelligence department dedicated to trying to learn about it, several cults had sprung up to worship the ¡®New Moon¡¯ then fallen apart as it didn¡¯t appear once more.  And it was all about me.  And I¡¯d had no idea it was going on.  It was tough to wrap my head around it.

    After my wing getting stuck brought me back to reality.  My first impulse was to start posting replies to let people know that no, a new superpowered demigod wasn¡¯t going to unleash an army of moon pixies to sweep across Europe and establish an empire of the moon.  The fact that such a theory had actually managed to get some traction had been worrying enough, but I realised that if I let myself get dragged in then I was doing nothing but borrowing future trouble.

    At best no one would believe me, at worst I might end up providing enough proof to convince the other readers that I was the genuine article and that I was the one that would lead the pixie empire.  If someone with actual authority bought into the theory then my life was going to get way harder far quicker. It was probably better just to keep my mouth shut, metaphorically, and work to try and establish a good reputation before anyone found out I was behind the white moon.

    I returned to the main menu and started seeing what other threads would catch my eye.

    Is bio-petroleum a viable alternative to petrol?  Multi-billion dollar businesses threatened by Buddhist Monk demigod!

    Interesting, but not applicable to me at the moment.

    Dragon sighted in Belgium!  Where can it be heading?

    Okay, that was a bit closer to here.  Was I looking at stopping an attack on the city from a dragon?  Well, that was one way to establish my bona fides.  Dragons were the sorts of monsters that even gods respected.  That said . . . did I want to take one on?  I had some first-class backup, but even so . . .

    King Arthur¡¯s Sheath stolen again!  Mass manhunt for thieves still shows no results!

    Seeing that one made my mind come to a crashing halt.  For a moment I just stared at the screen, seeing the words but not quite getting them.  The King¡¯s scabbard?  Stolen?  Again?!

    Just like every young boy in England, I¡¯d heard one version or another of the legends of King Arthur.  In my case, it had been when I was seven, and my Dad read the stories to me before going to bed.  I remembered the story of how Morgan la Fey managed it, tricking Arthur into fighting one of his own knights to the death, a knight that held Excalibur while Arthur wielded a fake.  It was a fight that nearly killed the king, and it was only due to his scabbard that he survived and healed.  His half-sister had stolen it from him while he was helpless in bed, and then thrown it into a bog when she had been chased by his knights.  It had been the start of the end for Arthur and Camelot.  And now it had been done again.

    Crap!  This was bad!  Very, very bad!  Arthur was the UK¡¯s safety net, the reason that my home country had been able to endure the aftermath of the Black Sun more easily than many other places.  As much as the world tried to keep going as though not too much had changed the fact was that every country in the world had suffered tragedies and disasters of some sort.  Entire towns being wiped out, monster attacks, whole chunks being taken over, demigods going on rampages, something.  Having the King and his knights acting as Britain¡¯s protectors had kept the United Kingdom safe.

    Okay, this was something serious, but did it have anything to do with me?  Yeah. I¡¯d dearly love to be the one to bravely recover the scabbard and return it to the King, but that was over in Britain.  I was here, and I was going to have to deal with it.  that said, once tonight was over I was going to seriously suggest that we headed back to my home country.  Athena was a goddess of Craft, right?  In the myths, she was always depicted as the smartest and wisest of the Olympians, her occasional tantrum notwithstanding.  Maybe she could help with the search?  If I could help the scabbard be found, even if it was just by bringing help, then not only would I feel as though I¡¯d done something useful, but it would also be a feather in my cap.

    Glancing to the clock in the screen¡¯s corner I was surprised at how much time I¡¯d taken just checking out the titles and the accompanying articles.  I¡¯d managed to satisfy my curiosity and had something of a picture of how the world had fared during my seclusion.  By the looks of it, China wasn¡¯t going to launch a war of conquest against the rest of the world, so that was to the good.  On the bad side, there were still plenty of smaller fires burning around the world, but at least the whole thing wasn¡¯t crashing and burning.

    Glancing at the door I didn¡¯t see anyone looking in through the window, or anything like that.  I had time, or so I hoped.  Enough time to log into my email address and write a letter.

    Hello all!

    Adam here, and I have got so much to tell you guys!

    Joan, and yes I do mean Joan of Arc, got me to France and brought me to this farmhouse out in the countryside and a ways away from anywhere other than a small town.  Yes, a hot girl took me to her hideaway so it could be just the two of us, but sadly it wasn¡¯t nearly as much fun as it sounds.

    Joan spent the next few days repeatedly kicking my ass and then healing me up, all in order to train me!  I¡¯m pretty sure she could look at some army drill sergeants and call them too soft.  Seriously, when she healed me up it was from things like broken bones and crushed muscles.

    Still, I needed it.  Things have been good, but there¡¯s been some not good stuff too.  Don¡¯t worry.  I¡¯m fine and safe, but if Joan hadn¡¯t been here it would have been bad . . .

    I went on, writing in generalities rather than specifics.  I told them about how my Awakening had been attacked and didn¡¯t go quite as planned, but not about just how bad it was.  I told them that my new powers had given me wings and a makeover, but not just how changed I was.  I wrote about my training, though I didn¡¯t give details of just what I could do.  I described the fight with Etienne but didn¡¯t tell them how close it had come to my death.  Lastly, I told them about the goddesses arriving, and about my coming to Le Havre and why I was there.

    . . . I don¡¯t know how things are going to go, but Joan thinks we have to be here, and I trust her.  I¡¯ve heard about the King¡¯s scabbard being stolen, once we¡¯re done here I¡¯m hoping to come back to Britain and see if I can help.

    Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know I¡¯m safe and doing well.  Can¡¯t say things are perfect, but I can fly now, and that makes up for a lot of the stuff I have to deal with.  Yeah, I¡¯ve still got some trouble with heights, but I¡¯m getting better.  When I get back I should be able to take you guys for rides with me.

    I¡¯ve got to go now, don¡¯t know how much more time I¡¯ll have free.  I just wanted to tell you I¡¯m fine and that I¡¯m really looking forward to seeing you guys again!

    Lots of love

    Adam.

    I finished the email, then sent it to both my parents, Doug and Chris, my grandparents, and even Di, my boss at the Well Grounded, everyone I felt close to and who might be concerned about me disappearing.  For a moment I gave secrecy some thought, but then dismissed it.  I¡¯d given the police my name and showed them my passport, even though it had taken some persuading to believe the picture was me given my photoshopped appearance.  They knew who I was, and I wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to think that info would stay confidential.  In just days some major news outlet would find out just who was running around with Joan of Arc, and then everyone else would know too.

    The least I could do was to give my friends and family a head start, some time to get ready before they might get dragged into it too.  I could only hope that it wouldn¡¯t be too hard on them.

    I clicked a button and the email was sent.  For a moment I considered waiting to see if anyone replied, but then I dismissed the idea.  I didn¡¯t know what I was going to be facing tonight, but going into it with any distractions on my mind wasn¡¯t a smart move.

    Instead, I¡¯d try to relax a bit and bleed off some tension to get me ready.  I was a bit behind on the latest Divine Versus, that might be fun.  I clicked onto the website and almost laughed when I saw the latest thread to be opened.

    Joan of Arc vs St George!  Who would win?

    Okay, this could be fun, if only to see how wrong they could be about her.

    My remaining free time passed all too quickly.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan let herself lean back in her chair and close her eyes as she took a moment.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    All in all, things could have gone far worse than they had.  The . . . unpleasantness at the park had caught her by surprise, though she really should have anticipated it.  Adam, Athena and Kali, all of them were quite literally superhumanly beautiful.  Joan knew herself to be attractive, and honoured Hadriel was beautiful to the point it hovered at the edge of the supernatural.  Her charge and the goddesses were beyond that.

    The truth was that she had grown accustomed to it, even if she had only known their new allies for a few days.  She had spent weeks getting used to Adam being an Adonis, and a combination of her own will and her divine protection had allowed her to resist the spell of such beauty.  She¡¯d come to once again see the young man behind the new looks, and so had been able to, if not ignore then endure them.  When the goddesses had arrived it hadn¡¯t been a great task to resist their loveliness as well, though she had been surprised at how much composure Adam had shown when faced with them.

    The simple fact was that the French Saint had grown so inured to the potency of divine beauty that it had slipped her mind, plain and simple.  Still, the men and women of this police centre had proven that with some time to steel their will, a mortal could keep from having their reason swept away.  Yes, she had been aware of many covert and lustful glances being directed at all of them, but at least there hadn¡¯t been any enamoured frenzies.

    Sighing she stood up and took stock of the situation.  Honoured Hadriel was in a corner of the room they had been asked to wait in.  It was fairly well-furnished, and Joan imagined it was normally used as a place to keep those who were powerful, wealthy or well connected.  Goddess Kali was taking full advantage of the couch that had been set up at one end of the room, sprawling out on it as casually as she might have done were she at home.  Goddess Athena had sat down at the table in the middle of the room and was tapping away on a small but intricate cell phone.

    That was something of an odd sight, the venerable Olympian, in her toga and shawl, working upon such an advanced piece of technology.  Joan knew that she was not any sort of expert on modern technology herself, being still new to this world of wires, mechanisms and transferred knowledge that would have been unthinkable in her days as a mortal.

    ¡°Excuse me, are you . . . Joan?¡±

    The resurrected soul was brought out of her thoughts as the door opened and a policeman stuck his head in.  He seemed nervous, his eyes flicking from one woman in the room to the next, but at least he was able to drag his eyes away from the others to focus on her face.

    ¡°Yes.  How may I help you?¡±

    ¡°There-there are some people here that have asked to speak to you specifically.  They¡¯re from the government, all official-like.  Can you speak to them?¡±

    He was clearly nervous, though she could not help but notice that his eyes kept flicking from her face to her armoured chest and then back.  Suppressing a sigh she nodded to him.

    ¡°Certainly.  I have time and I would be happy to aid the gouvernement.¡±

    She let the others know she was leaving, then was quickly led to another room.  It was smaller, an office, but comfortably furnished.  Waiting there were two people, a man and a woman seated in chairs.  The woman had black hair cut into a short bob, while the man had brown hair cut short and parted at the centre.  Both were fairly young, perhaps in their mid-twenties at most and were dressed in black suits with white shirts.  Even though they were indoors the man was still wearing dark glasses while the woman had a pair tucked into her front pocket.  Something about the way they were dressed tickled a memory for Joan, but she could not put her finger on it.  As she entered both of them stood up to greet her.

    ¡°Jeanne d¡¯Arc?¡±

    The woman asked, her face showing traces of awe as she stared at the reborn saint.  She moved to offer her hand to shake, then took it back, paused, moved to offer it again, then jerked it back and stood also rigidly with her arms at her side.  Joan offered the kindest smile she could and settled into the chair facing them.  It was nice to hear her original name.  She had been going by Joan with Adam since it was the name he would have been most familiar with, but to hear her name in her mother tongue was surprisingly pleasant.

    ¡°Yes?  How may I help you?¡±

    The woman seemed to get herself under control and also sat, the man following her example.

    ¡°It is an honour and a privilege to be in your presence.  Your example and legend have been an inspiration to your country for centuries!¡±

    As the woman spoke the man nodded along, his own slightly jerky movements giving away his own nervous state.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the resurrected saint gestured back to them. ¡°Who are you, if you do not mind me asking?¡±

    ¡°I am Agent Gensoul, this is Agent Devereaux.¡± The woman stated, gesturing to herself and her partner.  ¡°We work for the Myth Security Directorate, a new branch of the General Directorate for Internal Security.  Our task is to see to the protection of France during these turbulent times.¡±

    Ah, that made sense.  Joan was pleased to hear that the government of her homeland was working to adapt to the changing world.

    ¡°A fine and worthy goal.¡±

    ¡°Lady Jeanne . . .¡± This time it was the man, Agent Devereaux, who spoke. ¡°It is our sincere hope that you would be willing to join the MSD.  We have successfully managed to sign on some demigods to aid us, but they are new to their powers and unreliable.  If you could help us it would be a great boon!¡±

    Internally the French saint winced.  Yes, she should have been expecting that.  It only made sense that the rulers of this land would be eager to bind her to protect it if they could.  Truthfully, were she not already committed to aiding Adam, she would have been all too happy to stand as a defender of France once more.  Sadly such was not possible as things stood, something she had to make clear to these agents.

    ¡°I wish that I could, but I have a task I must continue.  I am sorry, but-¡±

    She was interrupted as the female agent suddenly leaned forward, her hands clasped before her as though entreating some noble.

    ¡°Please, Lady Jeanne!  France is in desperate need.  After the disaster in Lyon the citizens are fearful, to be told that la Pucelle now fights for them would soothe many hearts and minds.¡±

    Joan frowned at that, focusing on the latter part.

    ¡°What happened in Lyon?  I have been . . . outside the normal channels of communication.¡±

    ¡°The truth is that we don¡¯t yet know,¡± The male agent admitted. ¡°A few days ago the Sa?ne River overflowed its banks and flooded half the city.  At the same time, strange wisps of fire descended from the sky.  We do not know why the whisps targeted certain buildings, shops, homes, even a pair of schools, and swarmed them, burning them down.  There were many deaths and much property damage, but then the whisps disappeared, and the water receded.  The city has survived, but the suddenness and seeming randomness of the disaster has left many feeling unsafe and vulnerable.¡±

    That sounded bad.  It was one thing for a city to be caught in a conflict between powerful forces, but it was another thing entirely to be just attacked out of the blue.  Battles between uncaring gods or reckless demigods could lead to tragedies, but they were understandable, in a way.  People could comprehend it, prepare for it, and recover from it.  It was simply a greater scale of something they had always been aware of, the dangers of conflict.  A supernatural assault from out of nowhere, without apparent cause or any sort of warning was a different and more frightening prospect.

    Part of her ached to lend her aid, to fly to Lyon and fight any that dared to attack her beloved France.  However, her duty would not allow it.  still, she could at least offer what aid she could, even if it was just her knowledge and opinions.

    ¡°I wish that I could offer information, but I cannot determine enough from that description.  The combination of fire and water is unusual, perhaps the result of two different powers?  Is there any sort of common factor to the burned buildings?¡±

    Joan noted a short pause before the female agent answered.  Perhaps it was information not meant to be shared?  If so she was grateful that Agent Gensoul was willing to break that rule.

    ¡°None that we¡¯ve been able to find.¡±

    More, she needed more information.

    ¡°The Water was a far more encompassing disaster while the fire was more specific,¡± The resurrected saint noted, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Exactly how long did this disaster last?  From what time to what time?¡±

    ¡°It was . . . six hours.  Exactly from 9 am in the morning to 3 pm in the afternoon¡±

    That was significant, such precise timing regarding the sun . . .

    ¡°This has the hallmarks of a ritual,¡± Joan said slowly, voicing her thoughts as they came to her. ¡°The duality of water and fire, the timing that equally frames midday and the possitioning of the sun, the fact that specific buildings were targeted.  I would recommend further investigation of the burnt buildings, as well as seeking events that took place at exactly high noon.¡±

    It was not much, but it felt right.  It was not much, but it was the best she could offer.

    ¡°This . . . this is why we need you lady Jeanne!  We know so little, and it is taking far too long for us to learn and fill in the gaps in our knowledge.  We are learning, but it is slow, and every failure costs our homeland and citizens their livelyhoods or even their lives.  Please . . . how can you just ignore France when it cries out in need?!¡±

    The black-haired woman suddenly burst out, her face a mixture of hope and anger.

    ¡°I am sorry, but the mission I am currently on was assigned to me by Dieu Tout-Puissant himself.  Even if it is to once more save my beloved homeland I cannot abandon it!  Rest assured though, my ward and his allies are here to help.  Danger looms in Le Havre, and we have arrived to contest it!¡±

    Joan was careful to keep her voice level and conciliatory.  She wanted them to understand, she would never desert France, but her duty pulled her away.

    ¡°Is there nothing we can say?  Nothing we can offer?  All of France would celebrate the return of their most beloved saint.  There are . . . concerns of how France stands in comparison to Britain.  Their legendary king has returned to protect them, and we stand defenceless.  If they were to know that France¡¯s own saint has deserted them the people will only further lose heart.¡±

    The male agent¡¯s words were spoken with less passion than his partner¡¯s, but there was a certain cold practicality to them that made them hard to ignore.  She was aware of how her legend had grown over time, and of how that reputation might stand in the current age, with myths and legends returning to the world.  But . . .

    ¡°I shall never abandon France!¡± she stated, her voice reflecting both her regret and her certainty.  ¡°I fight to ensure that disaster does not befall France, my Homeland and the rest of the world!  God Himself laid this duty upon me, our Holy Father in Heaven, the Creator of All!  I stand beside goddesses and an angel in the fulfilment of this task, do not think that I am being frivolous in my dedication to it and my charge!¡±

    ¡°Please forgive Agent Gensoul,¡± Agent Devereaux said, holding out his empty hands placatingly. ¡°I am certain she had no intention of questioning your honour or the importance of your task.  She . . . we were merely disappointed that your duties do not leave you free enough to lend us sorely needed aid.¡±

    Joan smiled and nodded in response, her face a mask of earnestness as she replied.

    ¡°I understand.  Our country is besieged by threats that you are unsure of how to combat and the governors of this land are eager for any allies they can enlist.  Rest assured, though I may not be able to devote myself to my country I shall entreat the Heavens to lend you further aid.¡±

    ¡°Any help you can get us would be great,¡± the female agent stated, though the saint could still see traces of resentment in her gaze. ¡°Though . . . if you could perhaps have some official interview?  Just the knowledge that you have returned would be enough to hearten many of France¡¯s citizens.  If you have a divine mission then I can understand not being able to remain, but surely there is time for some words for your countrymen.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Joan allowed. ¡°But it shall not be today.  Tonight there is to be some event in which we need to intervene.  I do not know if it shall be a foe to challenge, a disaster to avert or some scheme to derail, but until it has been dealt with I fear I shall not be fully free to concentrate upon anything else.

    It was as gentle a refusal as she could offer.  Truly, if it had been her choice she would have been eager to once more rise to defend her homeland, but she was not free to follow her whims.  Also, she was aware that even if the offer had been couched as gently and flatteringly as possible there would also be some darker elements behind it.  France was in danger of being overshadowed by the United Kingdom on the international stage due to the return of King Arthur.  Her return would have served as a fine . . . counter?  Certainly a balancing force, at least.  She was also certain that the mortal rulers of France would have done all they could to control her, or at least direct her.

    How valuable would her existence be to a government reeling from the changes in the world?  Yes, she could see why they would be eager for her to be a national symbol, a figurehead for the national authority, maybe even some sort of mascot for the whole nation.  A cynical part of her also wondered how much money could be made with her likeness.  Joan might not be fully aware of all the facets of the modern world, but she did know enough to bet that someone would be set to make staggering wealth using her image.

    Still, she did not need to attribute any malice to the pair of agents before her.  Perhaps they had ulterior motives for trying to recruit her, but they might just as much have been completely honest with her.  Deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt Joan stood and offered them her hand to shake.

    ¡°I am sorry I could not accept your offer more fully, but I ask you to understand my situation.¡±

    She wanted to say more, but she would just be repeating herself.  Rather than seem like a dullard she hoped she would instead come across as sincere.  She must have been at least partially successful because the male agent also stood and shook her hand.  The female agent was less forthcoming though, remaining seated with a sullen expression on her face.

    ¡°Well, I shall not lie. I had hoped for a different response,¡± Agent Devereaux admitted, ¡°Still, I understand that you have responsibilities of your own that we could not have anticipated.  I can only hope that the future favours us both and you shall be freer to aid us.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Without further words Joan left the room, glancing at a clock on the hallway wall as she did so.  There were still hours to go.  What could she do to help Adam prepare?

    Under other circumstances she might have gone to get him some food, to fuel himself for the evening to come.  She remembered all too well during her time as a mortal, how a good meal had done wonders for soldiers preparing for a battle in the morning.  Such a comfort was denied to her charge, so what else could she do for him?

    Actually . . . where was he?  Best that she find him first, then she could make plans from there.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hugo Devereaux watched the resurrected saint turn the corner and leave his line of sight while he carefully controlled the urge to curse.  At his side, Claire Gensoul showed no such restraint.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    Agent Gensoul had proven herself effective in the field, being observant and intelligent, but she tended to be overly emotional on certain topics.  Figures that she deeply respected were one such topic, and Jeanne d¡¯Arc was someone she had deeply admired.  Her attitude was . . . somewhat disappointing, but he hoped that experience and time would temper that aspect of her.  For now, he had best help her settle down.

    ¡°We were always aware there was a chance for failure.¡± He reminded her, sitting back down in a chair that faced her.

    ¡°How can she not come to her country¡¯s defence?  She¡¯s needed more than ever, and she¡¯s just following around some random Englishman?¡±

    There was real vitriol in her voice, as though Jeanne¡¯s choice were some sort of personal insult.  He supposed he could understand it, hadn¡¯t his heart leapt when he heard confirmation that France¡¯s Patron Saint had been confirmed to have returned and be in the presence of angels and gods?  To have that hope come crashing down was painful, but it was not an excuse to lose control.  Nor was it an excuse to ignore reality.

    ¡°¡®Some random Englishman¡¯? Have you seen him?  Do those wings seem like they belong in a coffee shop?¡± Hugo scoffed but then continued in a gentler tone. ¡°Apparently, this is a demigod that God Himself commanded Jeanne d¡¯Arc to aid.  Do you truly believe anything would matter to a Saint such as she more than fulfilling His commands?¡±

    Claire grimaced, but then reluctantly nodded her agreement.

    ¡°Okay, okay I get it!  You can¡¯t blame me for being disappointed though.¡±

    ¡°I understand!  Believe me, I understand.  If she had agreed it would have been perfect.¡±

    So many opportunities, gone!  The effect on the general public alone would have been worth five times her weight in gold, while fully armored at that.  Publicity, merchandising, being the public face of the government, any one of those would have been of incalculable value, and that was just taking her identity into account.  Jeanne d¡¯Arc was a soul returned from Heaven, a genuine Saint reborn.  What she knew about the supernatural and the Legends probably completely eclipsed all that the MSD had been able to learn through frantic research.

    And then there was her power!  She could turn into an angel, at least according to witnesses, one able to fly and manipulate light.  Yes, the MSD had been able to recruit some supernatural talent, namely some demigods, a couple of budding spell-users and even a dryad that had decided to make her home just outside Paris.  None of them were trained fighters though.  Having someone trained in the use of such powers to act as a teacher would have been invaluable to their new directorate.

    Of course, he knew there were . . . darker elements in the government that would have been desperate to get her under their thumb.  Honey traps, blackmail, threats, bribery, it wouldn¡¯t have mattered what it would have taken, they¡¯d have done it if it meant getting an asset like her under their control.  The possibilities she offered would have been incalculable.

    In the end, maybe it wasn¡¯t a completely bad thing that she¡¯d chosen to stay independent.  Her mere existence might have caused large chunks of the already faltering French Government to turn on each other in a desperate frenzy to control her.

    ¡°Yeah, instead she¡¯s going to gallivant around the country and beyond with no oversight or restraint.¡± His college¡¯s bitter tone brought Agent Devereaux out of his thoughts and back to the matter at hand. ¡°Never mind what the public thinks about our nation¡¯s patron saint following around some guys from Britain, can you imagine the mess it¡¯ll be if she gets involved in a major incident in a foreign country?¡±

    ¡°Preparations will need to be taken, but there¡¯s something you¡¯re ignoring.¡± He assured her, his words catching her interest enough to pull her out of her dark mood as she glanced back at him.

    ¡°Oh, what?¡±

    ¡°That young man, Adam.  Jeanne d¡¯Arc and an angel have been sent to assist him, two goddesses are also following him around.  That means that he¡¯s important, and he¡¯s shown up in France.  Something can be done with that.  If the folks in the Public Relations department can¡¯t do something with it to benefit our country then I¡¯ll be willing to eat my shoes.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t what they¡¯d wanted, but it was at least a small victory.  Athena, and Kali, both of them were big names.  Throw in a literal angel and their country¡¯s patron saint was in fine company.  Just that association was enough to elevate her status, and through her France itself would also gain repute.  The United Kingdom had benefited greatly from the presence and reputation of Arthur, now France would likewise prosper, at least in part.  Well, assuming things went well, of course.

    There were so many ways this could go wrong that it wasn¡¯t even funny.  Damage to the city, terrible as it could be, was at the low end of the scale.  At the worst end was France being dragged into an international war if things went badly enough.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get back in touch with the main office,¡± Agent Devereaux declared, straightening his tie as he stood up. ¡°We¡¯ll have to inform the Chief about how things turned out, and begin making preparations.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Gensoul agreed, as she put on her sunglasses. ¡°La Pucelle mentioned that there¡¯d be something happening tonight.  I guess giving the guys at the office some warning will make things easier when we¡¯ve got to smooth things over tomorrow.¡±

    He nodded in response as they both left the police station.  The bright sun outside was dulled by the sunglasses they each wore as they left the building.  Honestly, he understood the psychological advantages that wearing the shades provided him as an agent, adding to the mystique of his profession, making him harder to read by others, and even making him appear a little more intimidating.  All of that was useful, but he still felt like a teenager trying to look cool whenever he wore them indoors.

 Chapter 9: The Clash Begins: Part One

    Chapter 9: The Clash Begins: Part One

    The boy knew he¡¯d made a mistake as soon as he turned the corner.  There, at the other end of the alleyway, was the tell-tale yellowish-green glow that he¡¯d become painfully familiar with.

    Curses ran through his mind, words he knew he wasn¡¯t meant to use, as he turned and ran.  There was no time for hiding, all he could do was try to move as fast as he could and hope it would be enough.  But even as he tried to force his legs to pump faster, he could hear the distant baying of hounds.  Behind him the glow remained, not chasing, but being all too clear that it wasn¡¯t hiding.  Some small part of him wondered why it wasn¡¯t chasing him when it had the chance, but most of him just didn¡¯t care.

    The simple fact was that he was tired.  The night before had been too much, it was as though his hunters had some way to track him that he couldn¡¯t shake.  They¡¯d found him again and again no matter what he did. The only reason they hadn¡¯t caught him was because of the strange rules they seemed to follow.  He¡¯d been able to fight his way through their last ambush and make it to one of the main streets, one crowded enough to keep them from following him.  He still didn¡¯t get why they shied back from the crowds, but since it worked in his favour, he hadn¡¯t questioned it too much.

    That wasn¡¯t an option anymore though, not tonight, not with how they¡¯d herded him back to the docks.  There weren¡¯t any crowds here anymore, no streets, no shops.  There were only dark alleys and empty warehouses.

    ¡°No more running, boy.¡±

    The words seemed to reach his thoughts without having to move through the air or his ears.  They were just there, hovering in his mind like malevolent fireflies.

    ¡°We have your scent now.  We have your blood.  You can no more escape us than then the horizon can escape the sun.  Make things easier upon yourself, end this hunt, surrender.¡±

    Unlike the harsher tones of those who had hunted him before the words in his mind had a smooth soothing quality to them.  They sounded . . . convincing, the voice of a calm teacher speaking to a fearful student.

    He knew they were a lie, though.

    He¡¯d seen what his hunters could do, he knew what they were.  Anything that tried to convince him otherwise was just a lie, a trick.  So, he¡¯d done the only thing he could, he¡¯d run, and he¡¯d kept running.

    But he was so tired now.  He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could keep on running.  Should he keep running?  The boy knew that he couldn¡¯t shake them, not now, they were locked on and they weren¡¯t giving up.  Should he try to break back towards the main streets?  He dismissed the idea almost immediately.  That was where they were thickest. He¡¯d never make it through.  All he could do was hope he could last until the sun came up again.  That was hours away, but he might manage it.  not by running, though . . .

    He¡¯d have to fight, that was the only option.

    It was strange, the boy was at once scared and relieved.  He didn¡¯t want to fight, that was why he¡¯d run whenever he could.  That was why he¡¯d left his home.  His power . . . he wasn¡¯t scared of it, but he was wary.  It was strong, savage, and it ran deep.  He hadn¡¯t used all of it, hadn¡¯t seen just how strong it was yet, but part of him wanted to.  The way things were looking, the way the hunt was closing in on him, was holding back really an option anymore?

    ¡°We have let you run.¡± The words interrupted his thoughts even as he tried to ready himself for the fight. ¡°We could have found you at any time we wished, but we¡¯ve let you run, let you tire yourself.¡±

    There was nothing soothing about the voice anymore.  Instead, it sounded . . . hungry.

    ¡°You will fight?  Very well.  There is pleasure in running prey until it collapses, but a quarry that will stand and fight is a pleasure all of its own.  Show us your power.  Show us your worth.  Show us that we were right to hunt you!¡±

    The boy had come to a stop now, regaining his breath far faster than any normal person would have been capable of.  He stood with a thick brick wall to his back, the alley he¡¯d come out of before him and a wide road to either side.  One way led to the sea and the main dock, the other would take him back into the warehouses.  It was a terrible choice for a last stand, what cover there was working against.  hesitating for only a moment the boy turned and ran once more, this time towards the sea and the docks.

    ¡°So, you run?  Disappointing, but understandable.  Flee as you wish, we come for you now.¡±

    He didn¡¯t have to run too far.  It might have been a marathon sprint, but with his greater speed and endurance, he was barely breathing hard by the time he drew close to where the concrete met the sea.  Behind him, he could see the glow starting to come from all the nearby alleys and roads.  The distant sound of dogs, or at least dog-like creatures, howling and barking had grown closer.  They were getting closer, boxing him in.  From here there was now only the black water behind him.  Would they follow him into it?  Could they enter the sea?  He vaguely remembered hearing something about their kind not being able to cross running water, would that apply?  Or was he just getting it wrong?

    No, enough wild thoughts!  They¡¯d never come at him from the ocean, he was going to have to gamble on that remaining true.  If he was wrong . . . well, he¡¯d be screwed anyway, so it didn¡¯t really matter all that much.  Reaching deep down the boy felt for the power that had been growing inside him ever since it had sparked into life.  He could feel it, hot, heavy, like blood and muscle bearing down on him.  It should have felt crushingly oppressive, but instead, it was comforting.  Beneath it, he could feel other sparks, dimmer but waiting to flare up.  He hadn¡¯t reached for them before, uncertain of just what they meant, but it was now or never.

    Before him he could see the huge hound-like wolves slinking out of the shadows, their eyes casting that sulphurous green light everywhere they gazed.  They were taking their time, amassing their numbers and prowling back and forth.  In a way they were acting more like jackals than wolves, holding back, waiting to spot weakness.  But rather than fear or caution the boy was sure it was because of the voice that had spoken in his mind.  They wanted to see what he¡¯d do, to enjoy chasing him or fighting him, whatever he did.  They didn¡¯t fear him, they didn¡¯t think anything he could do mattered.

    The boy¡¯s hands bunched into fists at his side and his eyes glared back in defiance.  Fine!  Time to see what he could do!

    For the first time, he reached for his power and drew on all he could.  Before, he¡¯d never had the chance, he¡¯d always been afraid.  Back at home, while on the run, he¡¯d had to be careful.  Becoming a bear had been all he¡¯d dared to use, and he hadn¡¯t even tapped into all of whatever that power meant.

    Now . . . now he did.

    For a moment the boy felt as though the rest of the world had just gone away.  The smell of the sea, the sound of traffic, the night breeze on his cheeks, the taste of sweat on his lips, the growing glow before him, all of it went away.  Instead, there was the roar of the beast, the thundering hammer of a heartbeat that seemed to shake the skies.  There was the scent of smoke and the comforting warmth of a nearby fireplace.  There was the hardness of metal, the reassuring strength of it within and without.  The beast roared, the inferno roared, the thunder of the forge, of hammer on metal, reached up into the heavens and tried to shake the stars themselves!

    Blood and fire and metal, that was all there was to the world for that brief glorious instant.  A great crescendo of forces that he could barely comprehend.

    Then he was back on the docks, wondering just what the hell that had been.  The next moment the world was shrinking around him as he took on the form of a bear and he didn¡¯t have time to wonder anymore.  This time the transformation was different though, the world seemed to recede more, more than any other time he¡¯d shifted.  On top of that, his body, his muscles, and his very being felt as though someone had jammed a connector cord from a nuclear powerplant into his spine and turned the juice up to the max!

    He roared!  The act was as much an instinct as drawing in a breath.  He felt strong, he felt defiant, so he roared as he came slamming down onto all fours.  He felt the pavement and concrete crack and crunch beneath his weight, his claws digging in with ease.  He felt the fire in himself start to . . . trickle out, then the trickle grew to a stream, then a flood.  He could feel the air around him ignite, the flames dancing in the corners of his vision.

    Before him the wolves halted their advance, their earlier eagerness now gone, replaced with wariness as they backed up.

    Okay, he wasn¡¯t sure if this was going to work, but he was sure of one thing.  If these hunters wanted to bring him down, he was going to make them work for it!  Yeah, it was going to cost them.  In blood!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I¡¯d been hovering up in the sky and looking down on the docks for what felt like hours, but in truth, it had only been about twenty minutes.  Every passing second had a small eternity.  Three o¡¯clock had come and gone and I was left wondering if something had gone wrong, if I wasn¡¯t in the right place, if there¡¯d been a mistake.  Or, even worse, was I the one that made a mistake?  Had something happened and I¡¯d missed it?

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I knew that most of my fears were irrational.  It wasn¡¯t like I was the only one there, so even if I did miss some sign the others were on the lookout too.

    I tried to calm down.

    Could I have done something already, just be by being here?  Had I been meant to be seen by someone out on the town and that was it?  Were we talking about a butterfly effect?  Was there someone depressed, and on their way to making a . . . dangerous choice who¡¯d looked up, seen me and had second thoughts?  And now they¡¯d go on to cure cancer or something?

    Well, it was a thought, but surely there was more than that, right?  This was a prophecy from an angel at the request of a saint!  I was meant to do something a bit more active than just floating in the sky and looking pretty, right?

    I was just starting to get worried when an eruption of fire lit up the darkness, and the screech of rending metal tore through the silence of the night.

    The whole thing was shocking in its suddenness. It went from calm and still to warzone-crazy in the blink of an eye, throwing me off for a moment.

    I still hadn¡¯t quite gotten over my fear of heights yet, though I was slowly doing better.  As it was I was high enough that I could see lights that illuminated the docks.  They were small islands in the dark that seemed so small when compared to the swathes of dark allies and warehouses.

    That made it easier to see where the fire was coming from, and as I came down another burst of flame licked up into the sky, this time accompanied by a flash of greenish yellow light.

    The first thing that grabbed my attention was the bear.  How could it not?  First off, the beast was surrounded by flames, great arcs of fire marring the concrete around it even though there wasn¡¯t anything actually burning.  Secondly, the bear was glowing in places, literally glowing yellow and orange brightly enough to cast even more shadows around, even with all the flames.  And lastly, and maybe most importantly, the bear was freakin HUGE!

    At first, I didn¡¯t quite get it, all the flames and dancing shadows making it hard to get a good perspective to judge it by.  But as I drew closer, I could see the buildings around it, the pavement it fought on, and the nearby railings, all of it gave me a sense of proportion that finally drove what I was seeing home.

    I could recognise the bear as a grizzly, that breed of bears had been a passion of mine when I was a kid.  The round ears and the large hump on its shoulders easily gave it away.  Grizzly bears weren¡¯t the largest breed in the world, but they were big.  Even on all fours they were, on average, at least three feet tall at the shoulder.  On their hind legs and at their full height, they were almost eight feet tall.  Those were the official stats.

    In this case, they didn¡¯t apply.

    The bear roaring amidst the flames was eight feet tall . . . but that was while it was on all fours!  The beast was huge, massive in a way meant for an elephant rather than a bear!  I could see it pawing at the pavement, its claws tearing it up as though it were Styrofoam instead of concrete, and then it let out a bellowing roar and lashed out with one front paw.

    I was still a good thirty feet above and behind the bear, having circled around as I drew closer, but the sheer volume of the roar still made my ears hurt, but that wasn¡¯t what I was paying attention to.  What my eyes locked onto were the trio of massive dog things that came bounding through the flames to throw themselves at the bear.  They were sort of dog-like in shape, maybe even wolf-like, but there was something about them that just seemed wrong, their proportions were off, and they were too bulky in some places and skeletally thin in others.  Oh, and they were also the size of ponies.  Sure, they still looked like toys next to the bear, but to a person they would have been huge.

    The three creatures leapt through the fires, only for two of them to be met by the swinging paw of the bear.  The paw must have been bigger than my whole torso, and the forelimb it was attached was probably thicker than my whole body.  When it hit the bodies of the dog-things didn¡¯t so much break as they did spatter, but I didn¡¯t really have time to be awed at the gory display.  Almost immediately after being reduced to bloody chunks, the remains of the creatures burst into greenish-yellow flames.  They burnt so fiercely that the remains were consumed in an instant, but I recognised the colour as the same as that earlier flash I¡¯d seen.

    The third beast wasn¡¯t deterred by the violent end of its partners though, instead, it lunged forward, its jaws snapping down on the bear¡¯s shoulder.  The spot it chose to bite was fur rather than a glowing spot and I was close enough now that my enhanced eyes could see its teeth sink into flesh.

    It might as well have been a chihuahua trying to bring down a lion.

    With an almost contemptuous shrug, the bear sent the dog-thing sprawling to the pavement, its teeth visibly smoking from the blood on them that seemed to be burning.  Even so, it was on its feet in an instant, snarling defiance at the massive predator before it.  For a moment I was genuinely impressed by its courage, then I saw it wasn¡¯t alone.  More creatures were prowling out of the darkness and into the light, lots of them.  There were wolves, smaller than the dog-like things that had attacked the bear, but still bigger than regular wolves.  Their fur bristled, their jaws snarled, and their eyes burned with sulphurous green flames.  There were hounds, almost normal sized, but black as tar and wreathed in more of the greenish flames that touched the other beasts.

    At first, there were only a handful of them, but then more and more came out of the dark alleys, eventually forming a pack more than twenty strong.  There was a moment of stillness, the bear furiously glaring at its gathering enemies as the pack simply waited.  It gave me time to think, time to realize I wasn¡¯t sure what to do.

    Who was I meant to help here?  If I was going to go by simple TV logic, then the bear was the obvious hero.  Bigger, outnumbered, fire powers, typical protagonist clues.  The fact that the monsters threatening it all had those sickly sulphurous fires somewhere on them wasn¡¯t winning them any points with me, just the opposite actually.  Seriously, the only way they could have looked more villainous was if their leader had a skull for a face and was cackling maniacally.

    Still, I didn¡¯t want to make a snap choice here.  Etienne had seemed to just be a monster at first, but he¡¯d just been someone that needed help.  How did I know who needed or deserved help here?  Maybe the bear was some sort of thief?  I just had no way to know.

    This line of thinking lasted right up until I saw the figures that were following the wolves and monster dogs out of the shadows.  So far there were only four of them, but I got the impression that they were far from the only ones coming, they were just the first ones to get here.  These newcomers were short from what I could tell, barely taller than the shoulders of the smaller wolf-creatures.  They wore black cloaks with ragged edges, but those cloaks failed to fully conceal the forms beneath.

    They were . . . wrong.  What proportions I could see were off, legs bending the wrong way, too short in one place, too long in another.  Arms that were thin but bulged with cable-like muscles in the wrong places.  Ugly and inhuman faces were briefly illuminated by the flames, then faded back into the shadows of their hoods, noses that were too long, eyes that were too wide and too flat, and cruel grins that spread too wide.  As if to cap it all off two of them were laughing, a high, discordant cackle that set my teeth on edge.

    Yeah, it was at about that point that I decided to just throw my hands up and give in.  Maybe it was shallow of me, but I really couldn¡¯t see any way in which I¡¯d willingly be working with these guys.  Sadly, my decision came a bit late, because I¡¯d run out of time to think

    There was a wordless battle cry from one of the figures, and then they and the beasts all surged forward at the same time, a wave of teeth and claws.

    For a moment I found myself stunned into immobility by the the sight before me.  The way the dogs and wolves all moved was terrifying, almost liquid.  In the dark, all of them with black or dark fur, they blurred into each other until they all seemed to be just one mass.  For a moment I was reminded of the horde of mutated creatures I¡¯d faced on my way to fight Etienne, but that had been different.  Those monsters had come at me in the light of day, I¡¯d been able to see them clearly, though there had been times when I wished I couldn¡¯t.  more than that, though they¡¯d all moved with the same goal there hadn¡¯t been any sense of unity between them.  They¡¯d all been solitary hunters going after the same prey and taking no notice of each other.

    This pack . . . they were working together, it was clear in the way that they covered the distance between themselves and the bear.  Each one was bounding like lightning, but none of them got in each other¡¯s way, instead, they seemed to coordinate perfectly, following after each other with liquid grace.

    Then they were on the huge grizzly, and I didn¡¯t have any more time to be stunned.  The beasts swarmed around the larger predator, surrounding it and all attacking at once.  I could see at least three of them all bite into one of its hindlegs at once, then pull on the limb, trying to drag it out from under the massive bear as the others bit into wherever they could.  Despite their size the dogs and wolves were still small when compared to their quarry though, their bites digging in, but unable to go too deep.  They drew blood, but they didn¡¯t look like they were reaching anything important, not yet.

    The bear roared and rose up on its hind legs.  For a moment it stood there two wolves dangling from one forelimb where their jaws were fixed, one of the huge hound-things hanging from the other.  Then it came down, the concrete shattered, the beast that assaulted it scattered, and the creatures that had been clamped onto its forelimbs died.  More fire burst out from it, a wave reaching out to engulf everything.  Those closest were immediately reduced to ash on the wind, their forms seemingly coming apart as the blast of fire hit them. Those further back though, they survived, screens of the same green and yellow flame that lit up their eyes forming around them, protecting them.  In the next instant, they were on their feet and darting back at the grizzly behemoth, followed by cloaked figures who had drawn wicked-looking shortswords.

    Okay, enough being a spectator!

    I could see that things would be stalemated if I did nothing, but I was also sure that that would only be so for the time being.  The bear could obviously soak up punishment, but whoever its enemies were, I was guessing there were more of them coming than what was already here.  I took action as the cloak-wearing creatures leapt at the bear, their jumps carrying them impossibly high and far, enough so that I was sure they were aiming for the bear¡¯s head.  Firelight glinted off two wickedly curved blades and didn¡¯t have time to think anymore.

    My hand came up, and a crackling arc of electricity briefly connected me to the figure.  Then there was a loud cracking sound, and the cloaked figure was sent flying back.

    Yeah, before facing Etienne I couldn¡¯t have been able to manage that.  My lightning bolts hadn¡¯t had they had that much range, I¡¯d barely been able to get them to go more than six feet from me before they lost cohesion and split like the branches of a tree.  They also hadn¡¯t been that strong, not much more than a harsh Taser if I had to guess.  Now . . .

    I lowered myself, being careful to maintain my full sphere shield around myself.  The huge head of the bear swung around, its glare turning into wide-eyed surprise as it saw me.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I spoke as loudly as I could, trying to make myself heard over the crackle of the flames. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here, but you guys are tearing up the place, and look to be doing the same to each other.  So, any chance that we can talk this out?  There doesn¡¯t have to be more violence here.¡±

    My answer came in the form of two arrows and a thrown dagger crashing into my shield one after another.  All three weapons burst into sparks of sulphuric green energy, though only small ripples ran through my defence.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s a ¡®no¡¯, right?¡±

    More figures emerged into the light of the flames, small and stooped.  Some had swords, others had daggers, and others held bows and arrows ready.  None of them said a word before they attacked.

 Chapter 9: The Clash Begins: Part Two

    Chapter 9: The Clash Begins: Part Two

    Kali stalked down one of the dark alleyways of the docks as she closed in on the location of her charge.  She wasn¡¯t in too much of a hurry, as she didn¡¯t sense any great danger.

    Sensing such danger was an inexact art, but she was a goddess with a portion of her divinity built around the concept of violence.  To her, it was as much a part of the world as the colour blue was to a mortal.  She could feel it, weigh it, get a sense of where there was or would be concentrations of it.  She could feel that Adam would soon face violence and danger, but she was aware of his power and strength, and she was confident that he could endure it.

    Kali smiled to herself as she continued to draw closer.  Yes, it wouldn¡¯t do to arrive too early.  The winged demigod needed to be more blooded, more familiar with fighting for real, rather than in training.  This might be a good chance for him to pick up some more experience.

    In the distance, she could see the flare of fire light up the nearby skyline once more.  Powerful, she decided, but maybe not the result of her charge¡¯s efforts.  During their spar, she¡¯d gained something of a taste of the demigod¡¯s power and she could feel those flames weren¡¯t his.  The elements he wielded were surprisingly pure, unalloyed with other forces, while these flames were an odd combination of forces.  There was the fire of the forge there, the heat that bent metal to the will of mortals, but there was also the fires of the sun, celestial flames not native to Earth.

    Was there another force to deal with?

    Good, her smile widened at the thought.  Her charge could use a bit more of a challenge to sharpen himself upon.  Perhaps an encounter with whomever was producing these flames would inspire him to combine his elements, or at least introduce new qualities to them.  There might be power in purity when it came to magic, but there was also strength to be found in alloying powers.

    Another surge of power came from that area, this time feeling both hot and cold at the same time.  There was the burning heat of rushing blood, pounding hearts, muscles pushed to the brink beneath hair and fur.  There was also the chill of the grave, the cold of the mausoleum, and the pallid touch of a cooled corpse.  Life and death together, and not in a way she¡¯d encountered before.

    Kali was no longer smiling, and her pace began to accelerate.  Her senses might still feel no great increase in danger, but that didn¡¯t mean Adam was entirely safe.  Violence . . . she¡¯d been counting on violence too much!  There were other ways to kill someone, ways that could be almost gentle, at least from one point of view.  If her charge encountered something powerful enough to annihilate him with a wave of their hand . . . well, there wouldn¡¯t be any violence, now would there?

    Had she been overconfident?  The Hindu goddess narrowed her eyes as she turned a corner and prepared to break out into a sprint.  Maybe she was just jumping at shadows.  Aside from Athena, she hadn¡¯t sensed any other gods in the area, nor any other greater powers.  Still, that wave of conflicting energies that seemed to be perfectly joined set her on edge.  There was something more here.  Something she wasn¡¯t seeing-

    A spear drove into the pavement before her, splitting it off in all directions!  The cracks shining with internal greenish-yellow light that seemed to scream of life and death.  Kali came to a dead halt, her hands rising up to grasp at empty air as her eyes locked upon the spear, then darted around to find its wielder.

    ¡°You shall not pass.¡±

    The voice that spoke was almost wispy sounding, yet it carried to her ears as easily as though someone was shouting into them from only inches away.  For a moment Kali¡¯s head whipped about, trying to spot their origin, and then she paused as a figure took form beside the spear.

    The figure was that of a man, tall, broad-shouldered and well-muscled.  Wrinkles on the face and a long white beard that fell almost to his waist showed that the man was past his prime, though he still stood tall and proud.  He was dressed in leathers and furs, a long cloak hanging from his shoulders, a sword at his hip and metal bracers upon his wrists.  One eye was covered by an eyepatch, but the other glittered with will and intelligence.  Most strange was that the figure seemed to be made up entirely of the same sulphuric green light that emanated from the spear''s impact point.  In fact, the apparition was slightly see-through, seeming to be more of a ghost than a solid being.  Still, there was no denying the power emanating from the imposing figure.

    And it was a figure that the goddess of destruction immediately recognised.

    ¡°Odin?¡±

    Kali asked in confusion, unsure of just what she was seeing.  The figure before her, the power she could sense from it, both of them unquestionably felt like the head of the Norse Pantheon, but that form . . .

    ¡°You shall not pass.¡±

    The words were repeated as the seemingly insubstantial figure stepped forward and grasped his spear.  The sound of concrete and cement cracking and tearing as the weapon came free showed that no matter how ghostly the figure might appear it was all too corporeal when it came to exerting its strength.  The spear was levelled at her, the tip hanging rock-solid in the air only two feet from the goddess¡¯s eyes.

    Those eyes narrowed as she took in the details before her.  Kali was a violent warrior, but she was also no fool.  She knew this was no true god before her, but there was the power of the Aesir all-father there, and that was enough to stop her rushing in there recklessly.  Her eyes flicked to the spear and noted that while it was darker and more solid than the figure it was still composed of the same energies that made up his form.  Good, that meant that she wasn¡¯t facing Grungnir at least.  Other details clicked into place, the cut of the leathers and furs that he wore, they weren¡¯t Norse, but came from other, more southern, countries.  The hilt of his sword was also different.  Narrowed eyes opened in realization.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Odin!¡±

    ¡°You shall not pass.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you do know that Hollywood¡¯s had a chokehold on that phase for years now, right?  If you don¡¯t want to sound like a desperate cosplayer trying to sound cool, then I¡¯d try for some fresher material.¡±

    The figure didn¡¯t actually recoil from her words, but Kali was sure that she saw a tiny flicker in its one good eye.  She wasn¡¯t sure what she was facing, but it wasn¡¯t some emotionless illusion, that was something she was sure of now.

    ¡°Okay, so you¡¯re not Odin.  Y¡¯know he¡¯s not gonna be too happy when he hears about someone stealing his look.  Guess you like living dangerously, huh?¡±

    Kali didn¡¯t wait for an answer or a reaction.  Instead, she surged forward, trying to catch the ghostly figure unawares.  One hand came up, curled into a fist and aiming to hit the body right into the centre mass.  Were a mortal trying this in a fight it would have been a foolish move, trying to hit one of the most naturally armoured points of the human body.  When you brought superhuman strength and resistance into the equation it changed things though.  She was aiming to send him flying, to get him out of the way.  Worrying about his nature and identity could wait until after Adam was safe.

    The problem was that the blow never landed.  Just before her knuckles would have impacted, the false Odin before her dissolved into . . . she wasn¡¯t sure what to call it.  It was too thick to be called mist, yet too ethereal to be called a liquid.  It was like a muted glow of yellow and green imitating liquid as it flowed through the air at absurd speed, evading her fist and then reconstituting into its previous form once more just out of reach.  It all took place in the blink of an eye, so fast that even the goddess of destruction was caught by surprise.

    The figure¡¯s retaliation was instant and potent.  The spear slashed through the air, failing to touch Kali but leaving a trail of glowing symbols hovering in the air in the wake of its tip.  The Hindu goddess had barely enough time to widen her eyes in recognition before the symbols flared into brightness, then erupted into a blast of pure force that hit as though a bullet train had slammed into her at top speed.

    Kali hadn¡¯t been able to brace herself in time, and the blast threw her off her feet and sent her flying down the alley as though she¡¯d been launched from a catapult.  Her flight came to a crashing end as she slammed into the brick wall of a warehouse with enough force to crater the brickwork.  If she hadn¡¯t let her body go limp to disperse the force of the impact then she might have been driven all the way through.

    Waving the dust thrown up by the collision out of her face Shiva¡¯s consort pulled herself out of the impact crater and dropped down to the pavement below her.  Massive as the impact had been it hadn¡¯t really hurt her, only surprised her.  She was one of the terrors of the Hindu pantheon, a goddess that had faced demons the sizes of mountains in the past, if that was all it took to put her down then she¡¯d never have survived to this point.  The thing that had surprised her had been the symbols the fake Norse god had used, symbols that she recognised.

    ¡°Runes?¡±

    Runes were a part of Germanic and Norse mythology, the written version of their language of magic.  A degraded and powerless version of it had been adopted by the mortals after the gods began to leave, but the original version had been a potent method of harnessing and enacting magic.

    It had also been one of the domains of Odin, an area in which he held near supremacy.

    Kali had felt the power in the runes that had been used against her, and she was sure that she¡¯d been able to feel a spark of divinity empower them.  What had hit her hadn¡¯t been just normal magic wielded by a mortal, it had been the real deal, divine magic.

    ¡°Odin?¡±

    Had she been wrong?  If it was the head of the Norse pantheon barring her way, then things had just gotten way too complicated very fast.  Kali wasn¡¯t going to let it stop her, she had made her oath after all, but beating one of the divine kings to a bloody pulp was going to have serious fallout down the road.

    ¡°Not Odin, Wotan.¡±

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    The Hindu goddess was no scholar, but even she knew something of Odin¡¯s renown.  Among his notable aspects was that had had many, many names.  Wotan was a name derived from his old English name of Wodan, the newer name featuring in some of their more modern plays and stories.  It wasn¡¯t a name she thought Odin himself would use though, it was too . . . shallow, too lacking in history.

    So, what was she facing?  An aspect of the god, rather than the real thing?  The nature of the Greek and Roman pantheons had proven that with enough power and faith deities could be spawned off from other gods.  The masks that the divine wore could take on lives of their own.  Was that what she was looking at here?

    Her thoughts were cut off as another blast of fire ripped into the sky, this time rising and falling like a wave, crashing down several streets over with enough force to send a tremor through the ground.  The distant feelings of life and death energies intensified, growing sharper, and deadlier.

    She didn¡¯t have time for this!  Her muscles tensed as she prepared to charge forward, but as though sensing her intentions the semi-transparent figure was suddenly right there before her.  This time his spearhead drew a huge circle of runes in the air, the symbols lighting up as the ends connected to form a ring.  Even without any real knowledge of what they meant Kali had no trouble guessing their purpose.  Suddenly she felt as though she were standing in the shadow of a fortress, one made of more than mere metal and stone.  This was a fortification that could stand even against her, at least for a time.

    ¡°You shall not pass.¡±

    Kali grimaced as she knew that time wasn¡¯t something she had in abundance.

    ¡°I told you, you need something original!¡±

    Without further words, she drew back her fist and began to hammer upon the barrier before her.  Going around wasn¡¯t an option, negotiation wasn¡¯t really open to her either.  That left her with the simple choice, the one she excelled at.

    Kali just hoped she¡¯d be quick enough.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Athena calmly lifted her aegis and once more blocked an arrow that would have otherwise skewered her through her left eyeball.  A distant giggle echoed through the night, and a slight frown touched the Greek goddess¡¯s face.

    The situation was an irritating one, though not beyond her ability to deal with.  Her foe was keeping their distance, never showing themselves, only attacking when an opening presented itself, then fading away into the darkness.  The Greek goddess of wisdom was more than able to defend herself as needed, but the attacks were unquestionably slowing her down to a crawl.

    In the distance, she could feel the battle Adam had involved himself in starting to intensify.  Magic may not have been her domain, but her nature over wisdom granted her some measure of expertise over it.  Such aptitude was enough to let her sense the flows of power and more and more forces began to move towards the site where her appointed student was fighting.

    Another arrow came at her, composed of the same condensed yellow-green energies as the others.  This one was aimed to pierce her liver, just below the armour she¡¯d manifested when the battle began.  Ordinarily, she would have been unconcerned with such attacks, but divine energy was present within the shaft, enough so that the arrow could not simply be dismissed.  A single swipe of the spear in her right hand cut the arrow from the air, shattering it into shards of power that quickly dissolved into nothing.  Again, there was that distant giggle, then silence.

    It was obvious to Athena that this was simply a delaying action, a tactic to keep her from interfering with whatever battle her student had managed to involve himself with.  If she was willing to unleash her full power, then she could have ended this farce.  Of course, doing so would not only have devastated the general area but also have announced her location and identity to every other deity and powerful spirit on the continent. That was something she wanted to avoid at almost any cost.  Her student . . .

    Another arrow came at her and was once more blocked by her shield.  This time Athena didn¡¯t hesitate though, both her spear and shield disappeared, replaced by a bow and arrow.  In the blink of an eye, the shaft had been notched, drawn and released, the arrow aimed right at where the attack had come from.  The giggle came once more, only to be cut off by a sharp and undignified squawk as her enemy barely managed to avoid her retaliation.  As she heard the tumble of a body the Greek goddess¡¯ eyes narrowed in satifaction.  Though she was no goddess of archery Athena was still a goddess of warcraft, excellence in arms was part of her divine rights.  Making such a shot was well within her ability.

    Swift steps carried her down another alleyway, towards the spot where she¡¯d heard the impact of a falling body.  Once her attacker was dealt with, she¡¯d move on to see how her student was doing, and then assess how best to proceed.

    She reached the spot, a small opening behind a warehouse that had served as a dumping ground in the past.  Dozens of wooden palette bases were piled up on each other, along with the remnants of opened crates and metal barrels.  Everywhere there was some sort of industrial detritus left behind, but there was no sign of her attacker.

    A trap!

    Athena¡¯s mind instantly connected the clues as her aegis once more materialised and rose to block the trio of arrows that came at her faster than the deadliest mortal bullet.  One was aimed at her forehead, another at her throat, and the last at her inner thigh.  All unarmoured spots, all debilitating targets, even if her immortality would allow her to survive them, all of them coming from an oblique angle that was difficult to block.  The enemy had falsified weakness, drew her into an unfavourable terrain, and then struck for maximum effectiveness from a near-ideal vantage spot.  Relatively simple, but unquestionably effective.

    All three arrows shattered as they struck the aegis, the golden surface of the shield easily withstanding the assault.  In the next instant, Athena¡¯s spear whipped about her, pure force being released in a wave that shattered the nearby piles of abandoned cargo materials into near dust, then swept it away, clearing the area.

    Yes, it had been a good ambush, but ultimately such tactics were pointless in the face of skill combined with power.  The goddess of wisdom was a consummate warrior, and her power was befitting of her station, this was far from enough to bring her down.

    But not insufficient to delay her.  Once more Athena was aware of the growing concentration of power at Adam¡¯s location.  She could feel the power of the demigod rising as well, growing to meet the challenge.  As always, his power was frustratingly complex, an alloy of many different elements and attributes combined to make an almost opaque aura that gave little away.  He could be fighting for his life or helping a pear tree to grow for all she could tell, all she knew was that he was drawing deeply upon his reserves.

    Well, he would have to handle this matter on his own.  Athena was unwilling to leave with an enemy at her back, especially one with some measure of divinity to them.  Adam had power, perhaps this would serve to force him to either draw more out or use what he already had with more skill.  And should he fail . . .

    Well, the goddess was sworn to be his teacher, not his bodyguard.  Whomever her current foe was they were most likely potent enough that they could kill him if given the chance.  Holding them from interfering served to protect him from one threat, therefore she was justified in the continuation of this battle.

    With that thought in mind, Athena maintained a watch for further arrows but turned the majority of her focus inwards.

    She was the goddess of many things.  Wisdom, warfare, crafts, cities, heroism, all of them fell under her purview by right of her inheritance or her achievements.  However, wisdom was always the first and foremost of her aspects.  She had been born from the brow of her father fully formed, an idea given flesh, the ideal daughter of Metis, thought and reason were the cornerstones of her being.  Thought begot wisdom, but thought needed fuel, thousands of tiny tiles from which to form a completed mosaic of detail.  Information was the soil from which wisdom was grown, and information could only be obtained through the use of the senses.

    It was a lesser aspect of her godly nature, but one that often was of use due to its subtle nature.  Reaching into herself the Greek goddess tapped into the golden well of power that was her divinity, and let it rush through her body, enhancing her eyes, her skin, her ears, her nose, even her tongue.  All about her the world seemed to come alive, the previous picture offered by her senses a mere washed-out parody of what she now had access to.  Everything was so much more!  More vibrant, more animated, brighter, sharper, clearer!

    Athena knew that even for a god it was perilous to overindulge upon such enhanced senses, the risk of them growing to be like a drug all too great.  Ironically it was only the likes of Dionysus who could endure such enhancements permanently, his own nature as a god of madness and revelry allowing his reason to endure where it should have been swamped.  The goddess of knowledge might not be empowered, but she could withstand it better than her uncles or aunts might have.  It was her nature to observe, to learn, to study, and this subtle enhancement could serve her well.

    She heard the creak of the bowstring.  She heard the hiss as the shaft was released.  She felt the wind of its passage as she turned.  She felt more air rush past her as she hurtled towards her attacker.  Her eyes pierced the darkness as she finally spied her enemy!

    The figure was slight, feminine, and composed of the same yellow-green energies that the arrows dissipated into when broken.  She was crouched on the edge of a rooftop, using a large ventilation intake as cover.  The instant Athena started to close the distance between them the figure was moving, but the Greek goddess had managed to catch her flatfooted for just an instant.

    It was just enough!  Just as the figure leapt away the warrior goddess barrelled into her.  Athena¡¯s shield and spear were held perfectly, the shield protecting her while her spear tip aimed to stab the etheric figure just below the heart.  Her form would have made the finest spartan warrior gape with wonder, yet the figure was able to react in time.  Despite having only one foot under her and being caught midleap she was still able to bring her bow up like a quarterstaff and knock the spear up and away from her.  It was an impressive feat of skill and agility, but it wasn¡¯t enough.  Even if the spear didn¡¯t impale her enemy, the shield slammed into her with all the force of the Greek goddess¡¯s divine muscles behind it.  The impact took both of them across the roof and ended with the figure''s back being slammed into the brick wall of the larger warehouse adjoining the one on which they fought.

    Had it been any normal foe the impact would have driven the wind from their lungs and the fight from their belly, but Athena¡¯s attacker proved more resilient.  Seemingly uncaring of the impact that had cracked masonry and mortar the figure drew a short, curved knife and slashed at the grey eyes of the Greek goddess.  In instant response Athena tilted her face, letting the blade screech across the metal of her hoplite helmet rather than her divine flesh.  The attack proved to be a distraction though, because, nimble as a mink, the figure of yellowish-green energies ducked under her spear and darted to the side.

    Athena darted to the side, cutting off her escape, and for the first time since the battle began was able to take a good look at her foe.

    It took a lot to catch the goddess of wisdom by surprise, but the sight before her managed to make her eyes widen in shock.  The figure before her was small and slight, lithely muscled and clad only in a simple tunic dress and sandals.  She had a young agelessness to her, such that her age could have been anything from a mature twelve-year-old to a youthful-looking young woman of twenty.  She was beautiful, but in the way a wild fawn or a proud wolf was beautiful.  The only jewellery she wore was a thin headband with a crescent moon fitted over her brow.  There was no way to tell her details, such as her hair or eye colour, or even the colour of the tunic she wore, all of it was composed of the same green and yellow energy.

    ¡°Artemis?¡±

    The name slipped out as Athena readied her spear once more, uncertainty warring with growing anger as she stared at her attacker.  Was this her half-sister?  This figure was not flesh and blood, but there was divinity there.  The archery excellence was certainly that of her fellow Olympian, but . . .

    That giggle that was now familiar, so much like the tinkling of exquisitely crafted silver bells, yet with a tone she did not recognise.  That smile, so familiar, yet so different.  There were other small things, the curve of their bow, the cut of her tunic, the crescent upon her brow . . .

    ¡°No, not Artemis.  Diana!¡±

    It clicked into place, this was not her half-sister, the Greek goddess of the wild.  This was her Roman counterpart or at least some sort of effigy of her.  No, a fake would lack the distinct divine spark that she was sensing from this being.  Whatever it was, it was alive enough to maintain a divine power of its own, but at the same time . . .

    Ah!  Suddenly the goddess understood.  She knew what she faced, knew what Adam faced, what all of their small party faced.

    There was another giggle, and the figure was gone, darting away faster than the swiftest deer could have managed.  An instant later another arrow was flying at Athena, letting her know that even if she had deduced her enemy¡¯s nature the fight was still far from over.

 Chapter 10: Enter the Hunter: Part One

    Chapter 10: Enter the Hunter: Part One

    The squat creature howled in pain as I drove a spike of stone through it''s eye, my power deliberately rotating the jagged shard as I did so, tearing the wound open even wider.  It spasmed, then went silent as the twisting rock reached its brain and mulched a good chunk of it before going through the back of the skull.  In the next moment, water reached up from the nearby docks, formed into a crude approximation of a hand, and came slamming down on another figure.  The impact was enough to splatter the thin and bony form across the concrete as though it were made of toothpicks and water balloons.

    I let out a snarl of frustration as another figure, taller and much more muscled, tried to get the jump on me with a massive inhuman leap, crude serrated daggers raised to strike.  My halo hummed, and fire flared up in front of me, going from a spark to a tightly controlled spinning ball of death in only the blink of an eye.  My attacker¡¯s trajectory and momentum carried them into the flames, and only charcoal and ash came out.

    I hadn¡¯t started the fight going for the kill so viciously.  I was fine going so hard against animals and monsters, but I¡¯d been hesitant to use it against creatures clearly smart enough to use weapons.  Sure, they were inhuman and monstrous, but that level of intelligence had to count for something, had to represent a line I shouldn¡¯t cross so easily.

    So, I¡¯d started this fight trying to stick with non-lethal attacks.  I¡¯d wrapped them up in cocoons of stone to take them out of the fight.  I¡¯d tried to stun them with electric shocks.  I¡¯d even tried to use air control to choke them unconscious.

    It hadn¡¯t worked though.  If I knocked them down then they just got right back up, if I restrained them then they broke free, either on their own or with help.  Even when I escalated to crippling it didn¡¯t stop them, they just crawled on regardless of broken or even severed limbs.  It was only after the huge bear I was trying to help smashed a few more into paste that I finally got what I¡¯d been missing.

    The attackers that got killed weren¡¯t staying dead.

    I only understood when I saw the pulped remains of one of the figures light up with the sulphurous green fire. When the remains started to regenerate into fighting form right in front of my eyes, I finally realised what was going on.  It only took a few moments, but as I kept glancing back, even as I kept fighting, I saw the crooked figure recover, stand, and then rejoin the fight.

    Once I understood what I was up against my first thought was to get rid of them, rather than fighting.  Since I had the ocean right behind me, I¡¯d first tried to use telekinesis to pick them up and throw them out to sea.  I¡¯d read enough comics to know that getting in a drawn-out slugfest with an immortal regenerator was for suckers.  It was smarter to just remove them from the equation, rather than keep bashing my head against a metaphorical brick wall.

    The problem was that no matter what I tried I couldn¡¯t get a grip on them.  It was . . . the closest I could think of it was as though I was trying to grab a live fish, one that was covered in oil, and struggling like hell.  As soon as I tried to use my arcana-based magic it just . . . slipped off.  It could affect them, I could shove them if I tried hard enough, but I couldn¡¯t get the grip I needed to lift them.  In the end, all it did was distract me, and while I was trying to work it out one of the larger dog monsters slipped by me and latched onto the bear¡¯s left hindleg, the bellow of pain that set off was more than enough to get my head back in the game.

    That had been when I stopped holding back and went for anything I could think of.  I didn¡¯t really have a plan, I was just throwing everything I had at the wall and hoping something would stick.  If the worst came to the worst I was hoping I could hold out long enough for Joan, Hadriel or one of the goddesses to turn up and hopefully know what to do.  Going for the cruel and vicious options was just an attempt to slow them down, to maybe make them hesitate.

    Too bad it wasn¡¯t working.

    They just kept on coming, it didn¡¯t matter what I did to them, what agony I inflicted, they just kept on attacking.  And what was worse, their numbers were growing, I was sure of it.  At the start, it had just been the wolf and dog monsters and a few of the cloaked figures.  Now, more figures were showing up, but these were different, though still mostly covered by hoods and cloaks.

    These weren¡¯t stooped or ugly, what glimpses I saw showed pale skin and fine features.  They sported long silvery swords or spears ending in wickedly curved heads.  Then there were the smaller ones, barely more than two feet tall.  Even though they were slighter in body they were fast, flitting about in the shadows and flames like phantoms I could barely keep track of.  There were even some larger figures, ones that hung back, obscured by the darkness.  I couldn¡¯t get a good look at them, but they had huge bows with arrows that were more like small spears that crashed into my shield and made it flicker.

    They all came at us, moving with eerie coordination and grace, even those that seemed malformed.  It was like fighting a river, everywhere at once, with so much pressure, and not letting up for an instant.  I focused as hard as I could on my shield, strengthening it, holding it, holding myself in place against the pressure!  I¡¯d been driven down to the ground by this point, the huge arrows forcing me from the air as I tried to evade them.  On the ground, I managed more traction, could brace myself better and bolster my defences, for all the good it was doing.

    Arrows, fangs, claws, fists, blades, they all hit my shield and tried to break through.  Each impact was a chip, a pinprick, all adding up slowly to bleed me dry.  For a moment I was reminded of a cliff, hit by the ocean year after year, century after century.  Each time the cliff endured, but eventually it would fall, it would break.  My attackers knew it too, I could see it in the gleam in their eyes, in the vicious smiles.  They knew that I could hold, but I couldn¡¯t hold out forever.

    Then I heard a roar from beside me, and in my peripheral vision, I saw the bear struggling as well.  It was putting up one hell of a fight, but it was getting overrun.

    And I just snapped.

    Maybe it was a case of that being the last straw.  Maybe it was the smug smiles that seemed to find their way onto the faces of all the creatures attacking us, it didn¡¯t matter.  I stopped being overwhelmed and got angry instead.

    As it turns out anger does more for me than fear.  It certainly manages to spark more inspiration at least.

    Letting out a furious shout I pushed energy into my shield, not to make it stronger, not to move it, but to make it bigger!

    The act came on pure instinct, my halo humming loudly as I reached out with my magic, forcing more power into my defences and pushing them outwards.  In an instant my shield ceased to be a defence and instead became a massive battering ram as it grew in size, spreading outwards from me with such force that the nearby buildings crumbled before it. I stood in a depression and watched as my attackers flew through the air, hurled by the impact.  In the next moment, I gestured and some of the rubble around me shot off like cannonballs, hitting the attackers of the bear and giving it some respite.

    What I¡¯d done had bought some time, but it wouldn¡¯t last long.  Reflexively I reestablished my shield bubble around me and levitated a few feet off the ground, taking a moment to evaluate my situation.  In the distance, I could see and hear other explosions of light and see lightning shooting up into the sky.  I guessed that explained why I wasn¡¯t getting reinforcements.

    A snarl drew me back to my own enemies, who were starting to regroup.  Even the archers, who¡¯d previously been sticking to the shadows had come out, revealing themselves to be centaurs, each holding huge bows that I didn¡¯t think a normal human could use.  That didn¡¯t seem to be a problem for these guys though, since they were muscled in a way that would make the most insane steroid-abusing gym junky keel over in envy.  Seriously, those muscles looked like it they could be used as armour against anything less than a freaking cannon!

    Too bad for them, magic trumps a cannon.

    My little break had given me a moment to think, and a rather devious plan had percolated in my brain.  I raised one hand, concentrated, and pulled!  It was hard, I was pushing myself, but it wasn¡¯t impossible.  The sea answered my call and my magic drew out a waterspout as thick as an ancient Oaktree.  The spire of seawater reached into the night sky then bent and came crashing down on my enemies.

    The impact was tremendous, and the sudden flood swept many of them off their feet, but it wasn¡¯t enough to kill them.  That was fine though, it wasn¡¯t what I was aiming for.

    Even before the water hit I was drawing on another magic.  The colour for seawater magic was a beautiful combination of blue and dark green,  there were edgings of grey there as well, and a feeling of depth and vastness that seemed to go on without end.  The colour I was drawing on now was different though.  Rather than being colours combined, it was colours that were almost other colours by their nature.  A blue so pale it was almost white, a white so cold it was almost blue.  Ice, that was what I was drawing on, coldness, the chill of deepest winter, the frost that crept in and stole the last spark of warmth until there was nothing but the frozen finality of ice!

    It wasn¡¯t a colour that liked to act quickly, that wasn¡¯t its nature.  Ice was inexorable, not swift, but I didn¡¯t let that stop me.  Even as the seawater came crashing down I brutally forced ice into it, chasing out the heat, devouring the energy within it that let it be a liquid.  Pain shot through my head, starting behind my left eye and shooting to the back of my skull, but I held on!

    And it worked!

    With a sound that was somewhere between the chime of glass wine glasses toasting and the crunch of icebergs grinding together, the water became ice right in front of me.  I managed it so quickly that the water I¡¯d brought down on my enemy¡¯s heads hadn¡¯t all had time to fall.  The huge splash of what had to be thousands of gallons of water had been frozen in mid-motion, creating a huge flower of frosted white.  It looked like some sort of art sculpture, beautiful and otherworldly.

    And it held more than two-thirds of my enemies, frozen and trapped in the sudden ice.

    Of course, I knew they were strong enough to break free.  I¡¯d buried them in concrete and they¡¯d been able to struggle out after all.  Ice was tough stuff, and they¡¯d been frozen along with it, which should slow them down a bit more, but even so if they could come back from death then I wasn¡¯t sure how long it would hold them.  The thing was, I didn¡¯t need it to hold them all that long.

    I reached out again, this time not with the colourless strength of Arcana.  I couldn¡¯t get a grip on my enemies, but that ice was made with my magic, my signature was all over it, and I had no problem finding a grip there.  The whole thing rose, creaking and groaning, my magic working almost as hard to keep it in one piece, as it did to lift it.  It was heavy, probably the heaviest thing I¡¯d managed to lift so far, but I could handle it.  I was stronger now, Etienne and Kali had both pushed me, and I¡¯d grown stronger for it.  With a final heave, I sent the almost house-sized iceberg flying through the air, sailing out into the ocean.  As it hit the water the residual ice magic in the giant winter sculpture discharged, forming a second starburst of ice, this time with the original frozen hulk as a nucleus.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Right, that probably wouldn¡¯t stop them permanently, but between thawing themselves, getting out of the first pretty iceberg, fighting through the second and then swimming back to the docks . . . that should at least buy me some time.  It was tiring, but even if it had taken a fair bit out of me it looked to have been worth it.

    Off to the side, I saw that the bear had taken full advantage of the lull my sudden ice age had created to thoroughly pulp the enemies closest to it.  For the first time since the fight began, we had some breathing room and drew closer together.

    ¡°Hell of an evening, huh?¡±

    For some reason, I said it in English rather than French, and to my surprise, the bear let out a huffing sound and nodded its head.  I noted the understanding but kept my eyes on the remaining monsters as they kept prowling around.

    My stunt with the ice had swept up most of the bigger attackers, the smaller ones being agile enough to back away before being caught.  Those who were left were mostly either the smaller dog creatures or the goblin things, neither of which seemed too eager to attack now that they¡¯d lost most of their backup.  Still, they weren¡¯t retreating.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said to the bear, pointing towards where I could see I positive barrage of lightning being drawn down from the clear sky. ¡°I¡¯ve got some strong friends over there.  Let¡¯s try and break through to them while we¡¯ve got the chance, okay?¡±

    I got a nod in return as the bear shook itself, then shuffled to stand beside me.  Once again I was forced to remember just how big the thing was, maybe not as large as Etienne had been, but even so, it was like standing next to an elephant.  More than that though, I could feel the heat radiating off the bear as though it was some sort of mobile forge.  The magic in me kept it from burning me, but I swear I could see the concrete under its paws starting to melt.

    I drew together more magic, this time getting ready to condense it into a wave of fire.  I knew it wouldn¡¯t do much damage to the enemies, but it would blind them for a bit, and the bear could move through flames without being burnt.  I hoped that enough would give us the window to break through.  I started to condense the raw energies and was just about to reach for the burning red and orange of fire when-

    ¡°ENOUGH!¡±

    The single word was a roar, cutting through all other sounds like some tyrant battle lord crushing unarmed peasants.  There was a sense of power and domination behind it, as though the speaker could not even conceive of his one word being overridden or ignored.

    I was pretty sure that some of that was justified, because as soon as it was heard all action ceased.  The creatures that remained and had been braced to fight seemed to recoil as though struck with a whip.  These things hadn¡¯t flinched when struck by lightning, burnt to ashes or torn apart by claws, but they cowered at the sound of that voice.

    ¡°This has gone on long enough!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t as loud this time, but it was as though the volume was unneeded.  I could have heard it perfectly even in the middle of a thunderstorm, all other sounds were simply subordinate to the domineering tone.  The voice sounded like the rustle of leaves in a high wind, the groan of branches in a storm, it was like nature had somehow managed to speak, understandable, but inhuman.  At the sound of it the monsters we¡¯d been fighting paused, then slunk back into the shadows before turning to watch us.  Looking around I tried to find the source of the voice, a simple task, given that the speaker was making no effort to hide.

    ¡°Such resistance is . . . impressive though.  Take pride in being such noteworthy prey.¡±

    The flames . . . bent, opening up a corridor.  In a way, it was as though they were shying away from the form making its slow way through them, but in another way, it was almost as though they were bowing in supplication.  The figure they revealed was large, their advance accompanied by the clop of hooves on the broken concrete, and for a moment I thought it was another centaur.  Then the fire flickered again and I got a better look, seeing that it was a rider upon a steed, rather than a half man half horse.

    The horse was a huge black thing, the sort bred to pull things like carts loaded with rocks.  It was sleeker though, obviously muscled, a creature bred for war rather than farm work.  Oh, and instead of eyes it had two pits filled with that yellowish-green fire I was getting all too familiar with.

    Still, impressive as the mount was it was the rider that overshadowed everything.  And given that the rest of the monsters I¡¯d been fighting were still around that was saying something.  He was tall, that was clear even if he was on horseback.  His shoulders were broad, his muscled arms bare, and he wore little more than a rough green tunic smock that hung over his thighs except for long chains that hung from his shoulders and dangled down to his ankles.  He was barefooted, his feet on either side of his mount, and black lines formed strange patterns decorating his skin.  His head and face were obscured by the animal skull he wore over them, a skull I guessed came from a horse or a deer.  Huge antler horns rose from his temples and for a moment I thought they were part of the skull.

    Then he turned his head and I saw that the horns seemed to be growing through holes that had been punched through the bone.  The horns came straight out of the man¡¯s head, natural to him.  As though to further highlight his strangeness the same flames that filled his mount¡¯s eyes played across his skin, making it look as though he¡¯d soaked himself in oil and then set himself alight. The flames were oddly transparent though, still tinged with their unique colour, but not as thick as they were upon the others.

    The only weapon he carried was a crude spear, little more than a long branch that had been mainly stripped and then had an end sharpened into a point.  Fresh leaves still grew from it in places, but the veins in them were darker than they should have been.  Given the dancing light of the flames, I couldn¡¯t make it out as clearly as I would have liked, but I was pretty sure they were red, as in blood red.  All in all, it should have been little more than a toy, a dangerous toy that a foolish child might make, but still just a toy.

    Instead, there was a sense of bloodlust emanating from it, as sense thick as the smoke that was forming around the docks.  This was no imitation weapon, this was something that had taken lives before, many, many lives.  Every instinct I had was screaming it at me.

    Yeah, I knew who this was, and the worry that had been growing in me had blossomed into cold fear.

    Herne the Hunter, one of the ¡®Trump Cards¡¯ the USA used to keep civilisation over there from collapsing!

    The funny thing was, before the Black Sun Herne had been a relatively minor figure in myth and legend.  His main claim to fame was that he¡¯d been mentioned in one of Shakespeare¡¯s plays, and even then, he was depicted as a ghost that haunted one oak tree in Windsor Forest.  Sure, he¡¯d become somewhat well known in certain fantasy settings in fiction, but that didn¡¯t put him on the same level as gods that had been worshipped by thousands.  However, when he had faced Artemis in a dispute over a shared prey, his power had in no way been inferior to hers.  She was an Olympian, a daughter of Zeus, one of the most famed deities of the ancient world, yet he, an old ghost without a legend of his own, had matched her.

    The fight, though relatively brief, had still been caught on camera, and inevitably found its way onto the net, where it joined the other videos that became international hits.  Herne¡¯s power had been clear, and after he agreed to act as a bounty hunter for the US government everyone had wanted to know more about him.  There¡¯d been lots of amateur research posted on the internet, everything from carefully studied historical documents to crazy conspiracy theories about hidden gods.  In the end, a paper had been published, one with a lot of backing and confirmed sources, that had proposed what had become the official theory.

    They figured that Herne wasn¡¯t just a ghost, he was the ghost of a god, an old and powerful one.

    The ¡®horned god¡¯ was a powerful image found among the old gods that were worshipped in ancient Europe during the Roman era.  One such god had been Cernunnos, a Gaulish god that was thought to have been Shakespeare¡¯s inspiration for Herne, but the published paper proposed another possibility.  It was proposed that both were remnants of an older deity, one that had died and fragmented during the earliest days of human development.  However, the death of a powerful god was not like that of a mortal, and part, shards of the greater whole, had survived on their own.  Some had grown into gods in their own right, others . . .

    The Horned Huntsman, Herne the Hunter, he was an anomaly, as far as we mere mortals could tell.  Even the more talkative gods were surprisingly tight-lipped when it came to him.  It was enough to spawn loads of speculation threads on the net, all of them giving their own ideas about just who and what he was.

    And now he was staring at me, and not looking happy at all.

    ¡°This is your final opportunity.  Accept your fate, surrender gracefully.  You have led a good chase, you have fought well when brought to bay, but there is only one outcome, even with your allies.¡±

    That hit me like a punch to the guts!  He¡¯d said ¡®allies¡¯, not ¡®ally¡¯, ¡®allies¡¯, meaning that he knew about the others and that he¡¯d done something about them.  And the fact that he could ¡®do something¡¯ about the likes of Athena or Kali did not fill me with confidence.

    ¡°You, Nephilim!¡± The old god¡¯s voice cracked like a whip, the dark empty sockets of the skull upon his head hid the eyes beneath them, but I could still feel them focus on me with a terrifying weight. ¡°You are not our prey, but you would make a fine prize nonetheless.  I shall give you a final chance to leave, to not interfere in our hunt.  You have fought well, you have been a firm stone upon which the young ones have honed themselves, but do not think that you can defeat us.  Leave, or share the fate of our prey!¡±

    Well, at least he wasn¡¯t being vague.  I could see the bear tensing up, shifting like it wanted to turn to look at me, but unwilling to take its eyes off the enemies in front of us.  It didn¡¯t take a genius to guess what had it worried.  This was a god that was threatening us, as in one of the genuine big guns of the world.  Cutting and running would have been the smart choice.

    Did that mean I was an idiot for not taking it?

    ¡°Yeah, not going to happen, sorry.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the smart choice.  I¡¯d felt the power of a god before, and I was was far from confident about going against it.  Still, the bear felt . . . brave, for want of a better word, and it was fighting monstrous creatures with sulpurous flames for eyes.  Maybe I was making a snap judgement, but I was pretty sure who the bad guys were here.  If I wanted to be able to look at myself in the mirror the same way tomorrow then I wasn¡¯t going to throw the bear to the wolves to save my own hide.  Especially with literal wolves.

    With that thought in mind, I started to gather as much arcana force between my hands as I could, because I was pretty sure I was going to need it soon.

    ¡°Brave,¡± There was just a hint of acknowledgement to the inhuman voice as it spoke. ¡°Brave, but foolish.¡±

    The point of the spear faced the night sky, and the butt was rapped almost gently upon the concrete.  I barely had time to register what was happening before the concrete around me and my ally, concrete already pretty torn up by the battle, exploded upwards in an eruption of wood and roots.

    The bear roared in pain as dozens of spears-lie branches and roots, each ending in a wicked point, stabbed out at it like the weapons of a frenzied Roman legion.  Most were turned aside, unable to break its hide, but several broke through and dug into its flesh.  They didn¡¯t seem to be going in too deep, but it looked like they hurt all the same. I didn¡¯t really have time to check, not as I was suddenly forced to focus my attention on my shield as it came under ferocious attack.

    It was like a tree had decided to take mortal offence at my mere existence and had launched a sneak attack on me!  A hundred wooden gnarled limbs, each ending in thorn-like spikes, drove at me, almost as though I was facing a plant version of Etienne.  My shield held, the bubble around me holding back dozens of attacks from all sorts of angles, but the strength of the impacts was enough to force me back, away from the dock and out over the water.

    For a moment I just hovered there, momentarily stunned by the effort needed to hold my shield together.  That . . . that had hit even harder than Etienne at his best.  Sure, I was stronger than I¡¯d been when I fought him, but even so . . .   I was getting an all too clear picture of how I stood up in comparison to the Hunter.  I could manipulate plants and nature, but there was no way I could grow something that strong, that big and that fast.  No way!

    As I managed to get my focus back, I looked down just in time to see a mass of branches and roots the size of a small train ramming into the bear¡¯s body as though it were an overgrown battering ram.  The attack came from the side, curving in like a snake striking at the back of an unaware prey.  Before the huge beast had time to set itself to take the blow it was sent flying, crashing into a nearby warehouse with so much force that it went all the way through, smashed out the other side, and then smashed into the next warehouse along.

    The mounted figure started to turn, moving to follow the bear he¡¯d just sent flying, and I acted without thought.  Maybe it was because even if the fight so far had been short, it had been intense.  I¡¯d covered for the massive bear several times, and it had become sort of reflexive.  So, when Herne turned, I reacted and sent a bolt of TK at him.  It hit him and then splashed off like a water balloon hitting the side of an armoured tank.

    It did get his attention though.

    As dozens of ghostly hounds started to form around him and the monsters in the shadows started to edge forward, I started to get the impression that this was not a good thing.

 Chapter 10: Enter the Hunter: Part Two

    Chapter 10: Enter the Hunter: Part Two

    Marcello received no warning.  One moment he¡¯d been deep in his meditation, trying to strengthen one weak energy channel near his left hip, and then he was wrenched back to the world at large as a huge form slammed through one wall and brought part of the roof down.

    The shock of it, the sudden noise, the billow of dust, the sight of the tent he¡¯d been using for the past night being crushed under debris, all of it came at once!  All he could do was gape at the massive form before him as it started to rise and find its huge, clawed feet, unable to make the mental leap from where he had been to where he now was.

    Then the gigantic form shook itself and a rumbling growl seemed to make the very concrete beneath him shake as it turned.  For just a moment small black eyes in a huge, furred face stared at him.  Well, small in comparison to the rest of the face, in reality those eyes were larger than the mage¡¯s fists.  Then the eyes were gone as the huge beast finished turning and began to lumber out of the hole it had smashed into the warehouse.

    That was when Marcello¡¯s brain finally managed to kick into gear and start running up to speed.  Thoughts that had been stunned into inactivity began to race and the reality of the situation hit home!

    The first thing he did was to dive towards the table he¡¯d left the scabbard on.  Fortunately, even though he no longer needed physical contact he¡¯d still kept it close.  His arms closed around the wrapped artefact even as he came down into a roll that he¡¯d used to dodge gunfire in the past.  The sound of crashing metal and concrete filled the air as more of the building came down, but it was mere background noise compared to what held his attention.

    The wards around the warehouse had served to contain all traces of magic that might have given them away.  The only problem, as Marcello was only now realising, was that it also kept any trace coming in from outside.  With the wards broken by the physical damage to the warehouse, he was now free to feel all the magic emanations beating down on him, and it was all he could do not to swallow his tongue in shock.

    One, two, three, four . . . five?  Six?  He could feel massive beacons of power nearby, power that felt so strong!  Some of them were greater than others, some of them blazed with such power it was as though he was standing in the presence of his patron once more!  Was that what he was sensing, the power of gods?

    They were fighting, the huge auras of power clashing in storms of energies he could barely get his head around.  All he could do was clutch at the artefact in his arms and try to get his bearings.  To the side, he saw the massive form of the creature that had smashed into the warehouse rear up, its form blotting out a nearby streetlight.  Power radiated from the huge form like heat from a bonfire, but there was another force closing fast, one that felt larger and even more oppressive.

    And then there was another power . . . the scarred magic user shook his head, trying to keep himself from getting lost in observing all the massive auras about him. Was this what a moth felt like when it was surrounded by fires?  Aware it was in danger, but somehow captivatingly fascinated as well?  Gritting his teeth he turned, trying to spot the other two.  There was no sign of them, and for a moment he wondered if they¡¯d been crushed under the falling debris.

    Movement to his left caught his eye and he turned to see his collaborators in the theft, the woman dragging the man to his feet.  Both of them looked fine, dusty and shaken, but fine.  Marcello took a step towards them, then paused as he re-evaluated the situation.  Did he really want to hamper himself with these two?  He could conceal himself and the scabbard, but was he sure he could conceal them too?  Could they help him?  Could they be of use, or would they just be a millstone around his neck?

    Suddenly they both went down, large black and furred bodies bearing them to the ground in a blur.  Huge dogs, black as night, with eyes that burnt with greenish-yellow fires, crouched over them, fanged jaws gripping the backs of their necks but not yet biting down.  His eyes widened as he recognised them.

    Black dogs, Cu Sidhe, faerie hounds.  These were beasts that belonged to the Sidhe Courts, the main powers of the fey realms.  They were the monsters of folklore, stalkers of those who offended their masters, killers of children who broke the old rules, monsters in the night.

    So why were they here?  France might be in their general territory as was most of Europe, but this was a city, a metropolis of industry, metal and modern materials such as concrete, glass and plastic.  Such a place should be repellent to beings of the fey, as foul as a cesspool would be to a mortal.

    ¡°Interesting.  This hunt is indeed favoured by fortune sweet and ill.¡±

    The words were spoken by a figure as it came out of the shadows.  For a moment all Marcello could do was stare.  Pale skin, dark hair, eyes the colour of freshly spilt blood, ears that were ever so slightly pointed, a slight flash of fangs as he spoke.  Vampire!  The thought ripped through his mind like a bolt of lightning across a stormy sky.

    Vampires had been among the many races that had returned with the opening of the Pathways.  They weren¡¯t a power on par with the pantheons or the fey courts, but they had been one of the last supernatural races to lose their purchase in the mortal world.  As such their legend had been of a more recent vintage than the ancient myths that remained of the gods and their ilk.  There were rumours, unconfirmed as of yet, that Bram Stoker might have been tapping into something when he wrote his novel, some sort of bloodline memory, and there really was a vampire monarch called Dracula.

    Vampires came in many breeds and bloodlines, Chinese hopping vampires, the Greek Empusa, and the African Asanbosam, the concept and nature of a creature of the night that drank blood was widespread and potent.  The figure before seemed to be of the most famed European breed, the type made famous by Bram Stoker.  Human-like, almost beautiful even.  Physically powerful, but also possessing strong magical potential, and, potentially most dangerously, intelligent even with bloodlust.

    A deadly creature alone, but one backed by fey hounds . . . not good.

    The blooddrinker looked down on the two pinned mercenaries in much the same way a hunter would evaluate prey he had just cornered.  No, not prey. Prey was worth the hunt, the effort, prey was a contestant to be overcome.  The vampire was looking at them as though they were . . . cattle, helpless commodities to be bought, owned and bled dry at his whim.

    ¡°Strong, good stock, certainly not of the common rabble.  I¡¯m certain a use could be found for you both.¡±

    His eyes flicked over towards Marcello, and the magic user tensed, every bit of magic he had control over going into hiding him, making him unnoticeable.  For a moment those eyes passed over him, treating him as nothing more than part of the background.  He didn¡¯t even have time to feel relieved though, before they returned, spearing him as a hunter would prey.

    ¡°Not bad.  A fine attempt, enough to let me know you have talent and power.¡± Pale lips spread in a smile that revealed those fangs once more, and Marcello felt a cold sweat break out on his back. ¡°You aren¡¯t what we came looking for, but I think you might have some value.¡±

    HOW?!  The thought ripped across the magic user¡¯s mind as he frantically started to gather his magic together.  He might not have possessed the raw power of his cloaked ally, but he was confident in his more subtle manipulations.  Cloaking and scrying were his strongest talents.  This vampire shouldn¡¯t have been able to see through his efforts so easily.  As though reading his mind the pale man before him offered up a smug smile.

    ¡°You can hide your form, but not your blood.  Not from me.¡±

    Shit!  The situation was going from bad to worse.  Another figure was emerging from the shadows behind the vampire, though this time it was far more monstrous.  Gaunt to the point of being skeletal, clad in rags, disproportionate limbs, and eye sockets filled with the same sulphurous green fire as the fey hounds.  Some sort of undead?  Maybe some sort of monster or goblin?  He couldn¡¯t be sure, but he knew it was another threat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make this harder.  If you¡¯re broken, then it might reduce your value.¡±

    Okay, that seemed to be one bright spot, the vampire was a talker.  If he liked to hear himself, then it meant he was probably arrogant, the sort of egotistism that almost always came back to bite you in the ass.  Of course, he might just be that good, but if that was the case then Marcello was screwed anyway, so he might as well keep operating as though he still had a chance.

    ¡°Take him!¡±

    The order came in a sharp commanding tone, and the scarred mage had to struggle to keep a smile from forming.  Good, this guy didn¡¯t even seem willing to get his hands dirty, just palming it off to a lacky instead.  The gaunt thing lurched forward, one arm swinging out with long and gnarled fingers reaching out to grab at him.  Marcello didn¡¯t hesitate, one arm still clutched the wrapped scabbard to his chest, and the other came up in a clawing gesture towards his attacker.

    The creature froze in place, its eyes somehow widening even further before pale blue fire erupted across it in four lines, as though it had been scratched by a giant flaming cat.  With a howl of pain, the gaunt monster fell on its back, flailing and rolling as it tried to extinguish the burning scratches.  Trying and failing.  The pale fire persisted, growing until it covered the creature until it stopped moving and just lay there, slowly burning.

    And during it all the magic user never took his eyes off the vampire.  Even as the monster continued to turn into charcoal and the smell of burning meat filled the air, he never took his eyes off the bigger monster.  For his part, the vampire seemed utterly unmoved by what had happened.  That kind of casual disregard, it might mean that the bloodsucker didn¡¯t give a damn about his lackeys, but normally someone would only show that lack of caring if had lackeys to spare.

    As though to confirm his thoughts two more figures emerged to either side of the vampire.  These were perhaps even more inhuman than the other one.  They had the same deformed appearance, stretched-out arms and legs, squat torsos, only elongated necks.  The difference was that these new creatures were more muscular than the first ones.  Long ropey muscles that coiled around their limbs like tight snakes.  Of course, this only served to make them more repulsive due to the other difference, namely that the creature seemed to have no skin.

    Marcello didn¡¯t think of himself as having a weak stomach, some of the things he¡¯d had to do to survive in the past would have left the average civilian in a crying mess.  Still, something primal within him recoiled at the sight of the thing that shouldn¡¯t be able to even move, yet did so at a skittering, juddering speed.

    He knew what they were, he¡¯d seen a hand-drawn picture of them in one of the tomes he¡¯d studied.  Ghouls, vicious undead corpse eaters that normally scavenged from graveyards and battlefields.  In terms of physical prowess, they were on par with a vampire but were little more than animals as far as intelligence went.  They had just enough wits to hide when they had to and plan ambushes on targets that looked weak enough, but that was their limit.  However, it was when they were controlled by a more intelligent creature they became truly dangerous.

    Ghouls were favourites of necromancers for a reason, strong of body, weak of mind, easily controlled and with little in the way of a will to resist.  Under a user of death magic, a small pack of ghouls could go from scavengers to deadly marauders able to depopulate entire villages.  Such servants were infamous and feared for good reason.  A vampire wasn¡¯t a necromancer, but they were a higher tier of undead, and most likely had the power and the will to force ghouls into servitude even without the use of spells.

    Not good.  Not good at all!

    ¡°An amusing bit of defiance,¡± The blood drinker spoke with the easy surety of absolute confidence. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter.  Those of the Hunt shall not fall so easily.¡±

    Marcello blinked at the vampire, wondering just what he was talking about, but then movement to the side drew his attention.  Desperate not to be flanked, knowing that if he was then it was game over, the magic user retreated, trying to open up more space.  To his surprise the vampire and his ghouls didn¡¯t follow him, instead, they remained in place, the pale undead¡¯s smiles seeming to grow as he watched him.  All of Marcello¡¯s instincts were screaming at him now, that smile was far too smug, it was the face of someone who knew they knew something that others didn¡¯t.  It was a dangerous smile, a smile he¡¯d seen in the past, normally just before someone died.

    The sight that greeted him when he¡¯d made enough room to bring the movement into his line of sight was almost enough to break his concentration.  It was the charcoaled remains of the first monster. Against all rational reason, they were moving!  It was all Marcello could do not to goggle at the sight like a mortal seeing magic for the first time.  The spell he¡¯d struck the creature with had been claws of ghost fire, his best combat spell that didn¡¯t require any set-up.  It was a spiritually based attack, one that combined the essence of fire, spirituality and death to produce flames that burnt the soul as much as they did the spirit.  Such an attack could be resisted, but once it got a hold of a target like it had then there shouldn¡¯t be any way for them to survive.

    And yet the blackened and burnt remains of the gaunt monster were twitching, shifting and then standing up.  Before the scarred mage¡¯s disbelieving eyes, the creature that should be dead stood, no longer burning with pale blue fires, but rather wreathed in the same yellowish-green flames that filled the eyes of the other monsters.  Beneath the corona of flames, the gaunt figure seemed to unburn, every piece of harm done by the ghost fire reversing and becoming undone.  In only a few moments the monster he¡¯d taken down was back on its feet, even the dirty rags it wore were restored to what they¡¯d been before.

    This . . . this was impossible!  But even as he finished the thought Marcello was railing at himself for being so naieve.  He should know that he was only knowledgeable enough to know how ignorant he was.  Yes, he¡¯d been trained and educated, years¡¯ worth of it being crammed into only a few months, but that was hardly all the knowledge the world had to offer.  He knew there were wonders and horrors out there that he knew nothing about.  And it looked like one of them was now right in front of him.

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    ¡°So . . . ?  What shall you do now?  What useless defiance can you offer up?¡±

    The blood-drinking bastard was enjoying this.  Watching him try, watching him fail, watching as it all dawned on him just how screwed he was.  The fanged monster was practically getting off on it!  Okay, okay . . . fighting wasn¡¯t looking like it was really an option, and stealth looked like it was off the table as well, what did that leave him?  Could he defend?  Hold out until things changed?  There were enough divine signatures of power nearby that it might work.  If he could hold the vampire and his servants off long enough it might draw one of those signatures closer.  Faced with something like that the bloodsucker would have to run.

    . . . and then Marcello would end up facing that divinity on his own.  Yeah, that was basically throwing himself into the lava to get away from the ash.  Not the best move he could make.

    That left running as his only real option.

    His magic surged within him again, twisting, braiding, forming into the patterns needed to enforce an effect upon the word.  This was the style of magic Marcello had carefully cultivated.  A style that wasn¡¯t dependent upon spells or artefacts, instead, he directly shaped the power within himself through superior control.  It was s style suited to him, given his relatively low raw power but excellent deftness.  Additionally, it had another advantage, namely that without a very high level of energy sensitivity there was no way to tell he was preparing to act.

    He drew deeply on his core and upon the second mana pool in the geass-bound imprint Morrigan had branded him with.  What he was going to do would consume most of his power, but this was an all-or-nothing situation, he either won, or he got dragged off for whatever the vampire wanted.  He didn¡¯t let any of it show on his face though.  Even as he slowly backed away from the approaching ghouls, he didn¡¯t let any hint of his internal efforts touch his expression.  Instead, he built it up, let the pressure grow and waited for a chance.

    ¡°YAHHH!¡±

    BANG!  BANG!  BANG!

    The man who had been held down by the fey hound suddenly surged up, his arm whipping out from under his body, revealing the pistol that had been concealed.  Quick as a snake he jammed it against the side of the hound¡¯s head and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.  Each pull fired another bullet, and with each bullet that drove into it the black dog twitched and spasmed.  Jaws poised to clamp down gaped open and the man took the chance to roll out from under the beast before it collapsed on top of him.

    Cold iron bullets!  In the wake of increasing activity in Europe and North America by the various fey forces such ammunition had been growing more common.  They might not have been as good as the regular lead, but when it came to dealing with fey it was another matter.  Fey might not be immortal in the same way as gods, but they were almost impossibly hard to put down.  To kill a faerie or the like without some sort of magic or cold iron . . . well, it was normally best to go with the complete vampire approach.

    Stake through the heart or cut off the head, preferably both, cremate the whole thing and then scatter the ashes over several different bodies of running water.  Just to be safe.  The problem with that was that taking down a fey by mundane means racked up a heavy cost in lives.  Cold iron was the equaliser, the edge that had let mortals survive the fey rather than being subjugated by them.  Used in swords and knives, it had been enough, in modern-day bullets . . . yeah, that dog should be dead!

    Should be dead . . .

    Why was it getting up?

    Marcello watched in horror as the fey hound staggered back to its feet.  Its movements were uncoordinated, and blood like tar oozed from the bullet holes, but somehow it was still alive.

    ¡°URK!¡±

    He¡¯d been distracted!  In the brief moment his eyes had been focused on the dog the vampire had covered the distance between them and now had the gunman by the throat.  Absently Marcello noted that even after almost a week he still had no idea as to the names of his co-conspirators.  They were just the man and the woman, that was it.  The absent thought wandered through his thoughts as he noticed just how little he cared about this development.  The man was providing a distraction, there wasn¡¯t much of importance beyond that.

    ¡°You are all just making this more difficult than it needs to be,¡± the vampire didn¡¯t sound angry, just annoyed, as though he were dealing with children who kept making a mess. ¡°All this does is increase the chances of me breaking you by accident.¡±

    If the man was in any way intimidated by those words, he didn¡¯t show it.  Instead, he brought up the gun to the vampire¡¯s chest and kept firing until the gun clicked on empty.  Then he dropped the weapon and made to draw the combat knife at his belt.  For his part the bloodsucker didn¡¯t react, he just let the bullets hit home without flinching.  It was only when the knife came up in an attempt to stab through his chin and up into his brain that he reacted.

    The almost delicate-looking hand closed around the man¡¯s wrist, and with a wet crunching sound closed his fingers tight.

    To the man¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t scream.  His face drained of blood and Marcello could see the veins standing out on his neck as he clenched his jaw, but he didn¡¯t make a sound.  Instead, he tried to grab something else from his belt.  The mage couldn¡¯t see what it was, not from his angle, but whatever it was drew an irritated frown from the vampire.  The bloodsucker¡¯s eyes flicked downwards, returned to the man¡¯s face, and then narrowed.  In the next moment, there was another wet crack, though this one was far louder.

    The scarred mage didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t react, almost all his attention focused on the building power within him.  He might not have large amounts of mana to work with, but even if you only had a cup of water if you boiled it, put it under pressure, and then let it all out at once, then you could get something dangerous.  Every second given to him let him build his magic up a little more and gave him a better chance of making it out of this alive.

    The vampire stared at the body he still held, frowned, then threw it aside as though it were just unwanted trash.

    ¡°Pointless.  A pointless resistance, a pointless death.  He has robbed me of little enough and lost all in the doing.  Pointless and wasteful.¡±

    It sounded more like he was talking to himself than anything else, but then those red eyes came up to focus on Marcello once more.

    ¡°Enough of this!  You shall come quietly, or you shall be dragged along upon broken legs!  Choose wisely, because-¡±

    The bloodsucker was cut off by a sudden yelp as the second fey dog, the one that had been holding the woman down, released its hold upon her and flinched away from her.  The woman had been biding her time it would seem but had now drawn a dagger of some sort and slashed at the hound with it.  The scarred mage couldn¡¯t get a good look at it, but he noted a wavey edge, discoloured metal and runes that glowed faintly upon it, all hints of a weapon enhanced with magic.

    Well, it didn¡¯t matter.  What was important was that both the dead man¡¯s actions and the woman¡¯s had given him what he needed.  Time and an opening.

    His free hand came up, his intention disguised as ineffectual flailing.  The vampire took his eyes off the new struggle to look at his captive, disdain and annoyance competing in his gaze.  He then dismissed Marcello as a threat, his lip curling in contempt, and turned back as the woman stabbed the hound once more.

    That was what the scarred mage had been waiting for!

    Still clutching the wrapped-up scabbard to his body with one arm his other came up like a snake, pressing his palm against the vampire¡¯s face.  The pale bloodsucker just had time for his features to begin to shift towards disgust for the touch, and then Marcello¡¯s accumulated power surged out, and the vampire¡¯s entire head was reduced to a fine red mist.

    Tumbling to the floor as the arm holding him went slack the scarred mage was immediately scrambling to his feet.  A single glance told him that the woman had survived, killing the huge hound and making her escape in the chaos.

    Good idea.

    Focusing all his power Marcello wrapped himself in another cloak of magic, hiding himself as deeply as he could.  He would escape!  He would survive!

    As prepared as he could be he took off, ducking into the shadows, moving quietly, uncaring that behind him sulphurous green energy was gathering around the headless body of his attacker.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I was losing, no two ways about it.

    The giant bear and I were holding on, we were fighting, tanking blows, striking back, not giving an inch without a struggle.  We¡¯d smashed at least two dozen of those phantom hounds into fading sparks, burnt at least three of those stabbing trees and torn up the docks until it looked like they¡¯d been bombed.

    Too bad none of that changed the basic fact that we were losing.

    ¡°Weak!  Weak!  WEAK!¡±

    Again my shield shattered as the wooden spear struck it.  Though it managed to hold together enough that the force of the blow sent me back, out of range of a follow-up strike.  Off to the side, the bear roared as it smashed down again, crushing something that looked like a skeleton that had somehow kept its skin, that had been trying to stab him with a flaming dagger.  I could hear the crunch of bones, but a second later I saw the flare of yellow-green flames that I was getting all too familiar with.

    I thrust forward with both hands, the air responding to both my movement and my will, whipping up into a tunnel of gale-force winds no thicker than a telephone pole.  It stabbed out like a battering ram, but Herne and his mount were already out of the way, the massive horse moving with a lightness and grace unnatural for something so big.  Concrete shattered and flew, but the old god¡¯s ghost showed it as much concern as he would a mild drizzle.

    Damn it! That was this whole fight!  I was throwing everything I had at him, fire, lightning, TK blasts, wind blades, water spouts, anything and everything I could think of, and it wasn¡¯t doing anything!  I¡¯d thought Etienne was tough, given how he recovered from any wound I managed to inflict, but Herne wasn¡¯t even getting hurt in the first place!  He just took it all like a tank being attacked with arrows.  I¡¯d even tried to repeat my trick with the seawater and ice, a single slash of his spear had torn apart the magic before it could even get a proper hold on the water.

    ¡°Pitiful!¡±

    With that declaration Herne swung his spear again, this time causing mist to billow up around him in response.  Mist that followed his movements, forming a great arc that crashed outwards like a wave, a wave that hit me and the huge bear with the force of a runaway train.

    I¡¯d only just managed to put up another shield in time, the bubble of force barely able to absorb the impact before it shattered again, and I was sent flying back again.  This time I didn¡¯t have as easy a time of it though, since I¡¯d lost track of my surroundings when I concentrated on the air ram.  Stupid!  A stupid mistake, Hadriel had always gone on about being aware, but there hadn¡¯t been many obstacles back at the farmhouse to practice with.  I¡¯d drifted to the side and ended up with one of the taller warehouses behind me, a warehouse I now crashed into, and without a shield to soften the impact.

    Concrete and plaster cracked behind me as my wings and back slammed into the wall between two windows.  The only reason the whole wall didn¡¯t come crashing down was that there was also some sort of metal support beam embedded in the wall, one I could feel since I¡¯d smashed into it.

    Pain shot up my back, hot and sharp.  If it hadn¡¯t been for the increases in endurance and durability since my awakening I was sure that my spine and ribs would have been nothing more than splinters in my pulped corpse.  As it was I was hurt, but I could still fight.  I just needed a couple of moments to pull myself back together.

    The bear¡¯s roar shook the night as it rose up on its hind legs and then came crashing down like an avalanche of muscle, fur and claws.  Fire erupted out around it, a rolling wave of flames that consumed all attackers except for Herne.  I¡¯d seen the huge beast do this a couple of times already.  It was a powerful attack, but not one that came free.  The last time it had used it I¡¯d noticed it getting a bit slower, losing some of its ferocity.  It had recovered but for a moment . . .

    The Horned Hunter had also seen it too, I guessed, because as soon as the flames subsided he was on the move, charging forward with his spear lowered like a knight¡¯s lance.

    I tried to move, to reach out and extend a shield in front of the bear.  My halo chimed above me, responding to my desire and boosting my efforts.  Then a line of red-hot pain shot up my back and I lost concentration, lost the power I was working with.  I quickly recovered, but by then it was too late.

    The bear had seen the charge coming and managed to lurch to the side.  It might have been slowed, but it still moved impossibly fast for something that weighed as much as a full-grown elephant.  It wasn¡¯t enough though, not to completely dodge.  Still, the impact that would have hit it head-on hit it in the flank instead.

    I could feel my eyes widen in surprise and horror at what I saw next.  The wooden tip of the spear didn¡¯t sink into flesh as I¡¯d expected.  Instead, it was as though the spear, Herne and his mount were all surrounded by some sort of invisible force.  Rather than being hit by a spear, it was as though an invisible tank had rammed into the side of the bear.  With a yelp of pain and shock the huge form of the beast was sent spinning to the side, right into one of the only warehouses still standing.  A whole wall came down, sheet metal doors came crashing down, along with bricks and metal beams.  The sound was deafening, then it went quiet, the only sound was the heavy bellows-like breathing of the bear as it lay there, stunned and in pain.

    ¡°Is it worth it?!¡± Herne demanded, his voice cracking like the whip of some cruel slaver. ¡°Is your defiance worth this pain? Is your pride worth your suffering?  Surrender!  Accept your fate with dignity.¡±

    Where were the others?  I knew that Kali and Athena had said they weren¡¯t there to fight my battles for me, but a bodyguard or a protective teacher would be a real big help!  Joan and Hadriel might not have as much firepower as a goddess, but they would be welcomed backup about now.  What was keeping them?  I couldn¡¯t believe that this fight hadn¡¯t drawn their attention.

    As though to answer my thoughts I heard an explosion some distance away, followed by the tearing screech of ripping metal from another direction.  How had I missed it until now?  Well, the fight with the monsters had been loud, and then fighting with Herne had been louder.  Had he just not noticed it until now?

    ¡°There shall be no aid,¡± The hunter¡¯s voice answered my unasked question as the helmed head turned to face me. ¡°The Hunt is strong, even your goddesses shall be kept away.  No allies rush to aid you, no reinforcements come to offer succour.  You are alone, against me, a god.  Spare yourselves more torment.  Accept your defeat.¡±

    Damn it!  We really couldn¡¯t win!

    So . . . why hadn¡¯t we lost?

    The thought grew in my mind, like a seed that had just found fertile soil.  Herne was obviously stronger than me and the bear put together, so why hadn¡¯t he beaten us unconscious and dragged us away?  What was stopping him?

    Like dominos lining up the thoughts came one after another.  He kept on belittling us, demanding we accept, give up.  Herne himself, he¡¯d mentioned his hunt, and there were all these monsters . . .  Herne the Hunter was often associated with the Wild Hunt, and that would explain what was holding up the others.  The Wild Hunt . . . they weren¡¯t something I knew a lot about, but I did know they had ties to loads of different mythologies.  Germanic, Celtic, Norse, and even Greek.  There were fairy tales as well, I was sure.  And fairies had their own rules, rules they couldn¡¯t break no matter how powerful they were.

    Couldn¡¯t break . . .

    The last domino was set, then tilted over, setting off the chain.

    That was it!  I wasn¡¯t sure why, but for some reason, Herne couldn¡¯t just beat us unconscious and drag us away, he had to make us accept it, accept our defeat, break us!  Until he did . . . well, it looked like he could still hurt us, but he couldn¡¯t seem to finish us off.

    Of course . . . that left a lot of unknowns.  Maybe he could still kill us if he decided we weren¡¯t worth the effort.

    I could feel my mind eager to come up with questions, scenarios and possibilities, but I forced them all down.  I couldn¡¯t afford to overthink things.  If I got distracted here then I wasn¡¯t going to get another chance.

    I didn¡¯t like my options.  This wasn¡¯t a fight we could win, it was that simple.  So, what did that leave me?  I could cut and run, leave the bear and try to meet up with my allies.  Not something I wanted to do.  What about going to get help?  I could leave the bear for a short time, then come back with reinforcements.  But how long would that take?  I didn¡¯t think Joan or the others were being held up by goblins with sticks, whatever had them lagging had to be powerful.  If I met up with them how long would it take me to free them up?  How long could the bear last without me?

    That just left fighting.  Trying to buy time and hope reinforcements would arrive was an option, but I didn¡¯t know how long we¡¯d last.  I was getting tired, and the bear looked more than a bit ragged.

    That left my last option, the riskiest.  Namely, going big.

    As far as I could see it was the only option that stood any chance of turning things around.  A gamble that would make or break me.

    Gritting my teeth I forced myself out of the indentation in the concrete and into the air again, pulling on my magic as I did so.

    More.  More!  I dragged it out of my core, out of my internal pathways, out of the air around me!  As much power as I could, all of it funnelled down and condensed between my hands as I struggled to hold on to the growing mass of power.

    Time to go big or go bust.

 Chapter 11: The Scabbard: Part One

    Chapter 11: The Scabbard: Part One

    The boy felt his flesh protest as he struggled up once more.  Strangely it didn¡¯t hurt, at least not like it should.  He was aware of the damage, of his fur burning, of his muscles moving despite being stabbed by lots of splinters of metal and concrete.  But even if he knew about it there wasn¡¯t any real pain.  What he did feel was a sense of wrongness, a sense that things weren¡¯t as they should be.  His wounds held him back and kept him from moving as he wanted, even if they didn¡¯t really hurt.

    Snarling he pushed to all fours once more, the movements of his beast form coming easily, instinctively.  One of the stick-thin corpse things came at him, three black dogs with fire in their mouths and eyes following.  His huge paw came down and all four went flying as the concrete beneath them shattered under his massive strength.  They weren¡¯t dead, but that was for the best, maybe this¡¯d keep them out of the fight for longer.

    ¡°So futile.¡±

    His head swung around, fast as a snake, but he still wasn¡¯t quick enough.  The spear whipped out, a slash rather than a stab, scoring a line across the boy¡¯s furred face.  The wound didn¡¯t burn as it would have if he was in his human form, instead, it was cold, a line of ice that just missed one of his eyes.  Instinctively he lashed out in return, but once more his clawed paw only his air and concrete.

    The mounted hunter had dodged him with ease, his huge horse moving way too fast, and the spear lashed out again, this time tracing an icy line over the fur of his foreleg.  The boy watched as the line lit up with yellowish-green flames, and suddenly wondered if the line on his face was also burning where it should be freezing.

    ¡°You are strong, but it means nothing!¡± The hunter declared, falling back to stare at the boy.  ¡°This can only end one way, boy.  There will be no more running, no more hiding, no more escaping.  This hunt only ends when you are brought down and surrender.  You shall be the coin with which we purchase the freedom of our brethren!¡±

    Even though the boy in his bear form outmassed the hunter in size it didn¡¯t seem to make a difference.  Herne still managed to loom over him, a figure that towered like some cruel cliff, unflinching and unpassable.

    No!  This wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d wanted!  This wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d planned!

    The boy felt anger and fear fighting in his stomach as he tried to psych himself up to continue the fight.  Where was the angel that had been helping him?  The boy had lost track of his ally when he¡¯d been hit, but now he couldn¡¯t see the winged figure.  Where was-

    ¡°Call this meaningless!¡±

    The shout came from the side, and the boy barely had enough time to glance that way before something tore across his field of vision.  Whatever it was left a line of light seared into his sight as it passed, a line that lingered even after he closed his eyes to keep from being blinded.

    It was a good thing he did so because, in the next moment, his sight went red as a blazing brightness lit up the darkness behind his closed lids.  The huge bear was sent stumbling back, tearing up more of the half-collapsed warehouse as he did so.  Blind and deafened he fell out of the ruins, losing his bearings.  He quickly recovered, only to find himself some distance from where he¡¯d been, separated from his ally.

    That was when the attack was renewed.

    In an instant more of the dogs were on him, biting, scratching, the hounds of the Hunt trying to harry their quarry into the ground.  He surged back up to his feet, shaking his body, rather ironically, like a dog shaking off water.  Most of the dog-like creatures flew off, but some refused to relent, their teeth and claws digging into the bear¡¯s flesh, anchoring them.

    Growling with frustration the boy tried to swipe them from him, batting at them as though they were leeches that had clung to him.  Unfortunately, the body of the bear was unsuited to reaching for its back and sides, and his attempts to paw them off failed.  Neither was the heat of his body deterring them.  He was burning as hot as a furnace, but the beasts ignored it.  in frustration the huge bear threw itself against the remains of a wall, trying to flatten the beasts against it.

    The boy felt a momentary flash of satisfaction as the wet sounds of bones within flesh breaking reached his ears, but that changed to panic as the wall gave way, crashing down and leaving him unbalanced.  The great bear teetered for a second, then tipped over into a rolling fall that sent up a cloud of dust as he came down.

    Blearily the boy struggled to his feet once more, something made easier by having four of them in his current form.  For the moment he was blessedly free of his attackers.  The ones that had been on him were still recovering, and his accidental collapse of half a warehouse had formed a temporary barrier for the others.  It wouldn¡¯t last long but-

    Movement to the side drew his attention!  It was hard to spot, more like a flicker in the dust than anything else, but keyed up as he was the huge bear didn¡¯t hesitate to react.  One paw swung around . . . only to pause as the dust cleared and he found his target to be a man rather than a monster.  He was black-haired, on the older side, had scars on his cheeks and was clutching some cloth-wrapped item to his chest as though his life depended on it.  What surprised the boy was that the man didn¡¯t look afraid.  There was shock and dismay, but not fear.

    The man was the first to react, dodging backwards and away from the enormous paw that had frozen in midair.  His eyes were wide, but not panicked.  There was calculation there, much to the boy¡¯s surprise.  Surrounded by monsters, rubble and destruction, this man was keeping himself together.  The huge bear wasn¡¯t sure how to react, pausing with indecision.

    That decision was made for him as a figure came out of the dust still choking the air.  It was one of the slim and dark figures from before, only now the cloak and hood other like it had worn had been torn off, revealing the features beneath.  Pale skin, eyes that blazed both sulphuric yellow and green as well as blood red, and teeth, lots and lots of teeth.  The boy was a bear big enough to make dinosaurs back off, but even he felt a jolt of instinctive fear seeing teeth that should have been in a shark in the mouth of a man.

    ¡°Die mortal!¡±

    ¡°Wha-¡±

    The scarred man might have been dangerous, but he was taken by surprise as the pale man with hellish jaws sprang at him like some sort of hunting tiger.  Belatedly the boy tried to react, his own jaws snapping forward to try to catch the attacking monster, but his oversized teeth snapped shut bare inches too short.

    Both the man and the monster went down in a roll, the man just managing to get his cloth-wrapped item up between them.  A smart move since it was the only thing keeping those monstrous jaws from taking a bite out of his neck.  The bear tried to move to help him, but a sudden barrage of arrows shot out of the dust and thudded into his shoulder, drawing a snarl of pain from the transformed boy and forcing him to turn to face this new threat.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the two scrabbled in the rubble.  The only reason the scarred man was able to hold off his supernaturally strong attacker seemed to be that the pale-skinned man had totally given in some sort of bestial fury.  He was fast and ferocious, but he was also being stupid, seeming to fixate on the wrapped item between them as though it were a personal affront to him.

    Then more arrows were flying at him, and the boy turned bear had to shift his head to keep them from hitting his eyes.  A paw rose and then came crashing down with the force of a boulder hurled by an ancient catapult.  The broken pavement shattered further, and concrete melted into magma as heat suffused it.  Molten rock surged forward in imitation of water, cresting into a wave and surging into the dust where the arrows had come from.  There was a burning sizzling sound, so he knew he¡¯d hit something, but there were no cries of pain, not even a grunt of discomfort.

    He¡¯d known it would be like this.  He¡¯d known that fighting his pursuers was practically pointless.  The ones he¡¯d killed in the past had always come back, so it hadn¡¯t seemed worth it to try.  His stand tonight had been an act of desperation, him refusing to go down without a fight.

    A distant explosion reminded him what else was different tonight.  The boy was not alone.  There was that angel that had fought with him, and there were others out there as well.  He could do this!  He could win!  He could-

    He didn¡¯t see the blow that took him off his paws and hurled him back into the half-collapsed warehouse.  He felt the impact though, his left side going momentarily numb, then flaring up with bolts of pain as though someone had jabbed a cattle prod into his ribs.  Hell, he was pretty sure some of those ribs were broken, or at least cracked.  His bones had withstood a building caving in on his without issue, but now . . .

    Pain and dust disoriented him, and for a moment he lost his bearings.  The huge thrashed in place, on his back and his paws clawed wildly in an attempt to find some purchase to help him right himself.  The display would almost have been comical, were the movements not so frantic.

    ¡°AAARGH!¡±

    He felt his claw catch on something, something he couldn¡¯t see.  He gave it no thought though.  Maybe he¡¯d accidentally hit an invisible enemy, by this point he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the Hunt had something like that to throw at him.  The boy yanked his paw back as he finally rolled over, hoping to drag an enemy close enough to claw and bite.  Instead, he felt something rip, not flesh, but cloth.

    Then the world went nuts!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Ow . . .¡±

    I let out a sound of complaint as I forced myself back to my feet, my wings unfolding and pushing off a heavy covering of debris as I did so.  The air was thick with dust and smoke, and the sea was slowly flowing in to fill the massive crater that now took the place of the ruined warehouse I¡¯d been fighting in.  I couldn¡¯t even see where the bear I¡¯d been fighting alongside had gone, and that thing had been bigger than some trucks I¡¯d seen.

    Okay, that hadn¡¯t been my best idea.

    Sure, it had worked.  I couldn¡¯t see Herne anywhere, and the last time I had seen him he and his horse had been tumbling through the air as though they¡¯d been hit by an invisible giant.  That was to the good, what wasn¡¯t was the fact that I felt as though the same invisible giant had then turned around and used me as a football.  That move definitely had potential, but I was going to have to get better at using it.

    The general idea was simple enough, drag as much energy under my control as I could, condense it, then chuck it at my enemy and watch the fireworks.  Not the most sophisticated example of energy manipulation, but it had the virtue of simplicity.  Well, in theory anyway.

    It was something of a modification of his basic TK bolts.  Those were made by compressing Arcana magic, impressing my will on it and then blasting it off.  What I¡¯d tried here was a cruder application on a larger scale.  Rather than using Arcana, I¡¯d drawn in everything, not just raw mana from myself and the ambient energy.  It had been all the free-floating elemental magic I could drag in, fire, earth, dust, sea, stone, air, night, starlight, everything that made up the world around me.  Sure, it was only trace amounts of each, the bulk of the energy being drawn from my own reserves, but it all added up.

    The result had been a massive globe of roiling mana almost as big as I was which I barely had any control over.  Technically it had been a success since it hadn¡¯t blown up in my face and I¡¯d been able to shoot it at Herne.  But given that it had exploded before hitting him, meaning I got caught in the blast as well . . .

    Yeah, not my best work.

    Still, it wasn¡¯t a total failure.  There¡¯d been power there, lots of it, enough to put my previous best to shame.  I¡¯d only been caught in the outer edge of the blast and it had been enough to send me crashing into a brick wall hard enough to crack it, but Herne had been much closer, at least I¡¯d managed that much.  I didn¡¯t imagine it was a winning move, but that had to do something, right?

    ¡°You . . .¡±

    I took a certain vindictive pride in the fact I could hear the pain in that single word.  The problem was that there was also plenty of anger as well.  Before, Herne had been treating me as a pest to be put down, one unworthy of his proper attention.  Now . . . I think I¡¯d managed to get under his skin.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The wind swirled, a strong gust gathering the dust and smoke, then carrying it away, revealing the battlefield.

    Herne no longer rode on his horse.  In fact, I couldn¡¯t see the steed anywhere, making me wonder if I¡¯d managed to take it out.  Herne himself clearly hadn¡¯t come away from my attack unscathed.  One of his antlers was broken, his furs were visibly torn and a thin line of blood dripped down his left leg.  It seemed to be mostly superficial, and he certainly wasn¡¯t moving like someone who¡¯d been hurt, but hey . . . I¡¯d made a god bleed!  That had to count for something, right?

    . . . just how hard had I hit that wall?

    ¡°I was going to show you some mercy,¡± the words came out of the Horned God like boulders grinding against each other as they began an avalanche. ¡°You and the boy are brave, and that warrants some respect, some forbearance.¡±

    He paused, and the butt of his spear slammed into the ground the already cracked concrete vanishing into dust beneath the supernatural wooden shaft.

    ¡°But defiance has a price.  You may take pride in forcing me to treat you as a serious foe, but must also offer up a payment of pain and blood.¡±

    Okay . . . that didn¡¯t sound good.  I was still feeling a bit loopy like I couldn¡¯t quite get my feelings to properly connect with what was going on.  I knew it was a real danger, but I didn¡¯t feel afraid.  Instead, I just felt . . . giddy?  Amused?  As though it were a joke, rather than a serious threat.

    Damn, I might really have a concussion.  I knew it was a real problem, but somehow it just added to the joke.  I barely held back a laugh as I tried to ready myself for combat, only to stumble sideways.  The world swam slightly, and my wings made it harder to stay steady as my balance wavered, but at least I didn¡¯t fall over.

    As it turned out, my luck must have been working overtime, because right after I regained my balance the wall beside me cratered inwards as a mass of vines and wood slammed into the spot my head had been only a second or two before.  I blinked at it stupidly for a moment, almost burst out laughing, and then barely managed to get my shield up in time to block the second attack.

    It was like being hit by a living battering ram, as though some part of a forest had decided I was their mortal enemy and lashed out with a limb as thick as a tree trunk that moved like a striking viper.  My shield held, but the sheer force of the impact took me off my feet and hurled me back against the wall I¡¯d been standing against.  Still, even though I hadn¡¯t had the presence of mind to brace myself, I had instinctively formed a spherical shield around me, not a flat pane in front of me.  My impulse to go for full protection saved me a lot of pain as the shield protected me from the brick wall, even as I was slammed through it.

    My head was still ringing, but I swiped out with an arm, the clear grey-white colour of wind instinctively being drawn on, and a short savage gust cleared the area about me, and sent the loose debris hurtling at Herne.  The god raised his spear, and a wall of vines and trunks burst out of the concrete to shield him.

    It bought me some time though, and I used it to get higher up and to reinforce my shield bubble.  Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure I could beat Herne, but I was pretty sure I could stall him.  Whatever was holding up my companions couldn¡¯t last forever.  I mean, what could be holding up Kali?  I literally couldn¡¯t think of anything that could stonewall someone like her, especially if she brought out her Destruction power.  I could see her being delayed, but not indefinitely.  The same went for all the others to one degree or another.  Athena and Hadriel were consummate divine warriors, and Joan wasn¡¯t far behind.  All I needed to do was hold out until reinforcements got to me.

    ¡°Your struggles only serve to prolong your punishment,¡± the Horned God declared.  He waved his spear and all about him more spectral hounds began to form.  First a handful, then more and more until there had to be dozens of them.  In response, I reached out to the rubble around me, picking up the largest chunks and levitating them up beside me.  Out of all my attacks it had been the debris I¡¯d shot that Herne had bothered to block.  I didn¡¯t know if that meant it was a weakness, or if it simply meant he didn¡¯t want to get any dirtier, but I was going to follow it up.  If he didn¡¯t like that then I¡¯d see how he liked his own personal meteor storm!

    There was a brief pause as I readied my attack, and the huge pack of ghost dogs crouched and readied themselves.  Then . . .

    GOLD!  Perfect, pure and shining!  This wasn¡¯t the gold that was hoarded in greed, not the gold that nations lusted for and based their wealth upon.  This was the gold of the top, the apex, the victor!  The gold of medals, crowns and laurels!  It was the gold that was striven for, that was respected and held up as the reward of effort and brilliance!

    The sense of it washed across the battlefield like a tide, and everyone just . . . stopped.  In that instant neither me nor Herne were paying any attention to each other, the conflict between us forgotten as both our heads snapped over in the same direction.  Sensing where the golden power radiated from was trivial at best, you might as well have been trying to find the sun in the sky on a hot summer¡¯s day, it was that easy.  I blinked in surprise as I realised that the huge form of the bear I¡¯d allied myself with was right over next to it, so close it was practically touching it.  As for the source . . .

    It lay there on the ground, partly wrapped in cloth but enough of it visible to identify it, even at a glance.

    ¡°That . . . that is the scabbard of the Albion¡¯s guardian king!¡±

    The world seemed to slow as I tried to process what I¡¯d just heard.  King Arthur¡¯s scabbard?  Here?  How?  Why?  Was this why the Oracle had sent us here?

    I didn¡¯t think, I just dived, reaching out with Arcana as I did so, trying to pull the scabbard to me even as I shot towards it!  I did it all as fast as I could, but Herne reacted almost as fast.  I¡¯d moved first, but he was closer.  Just as the sheath started to come off the ground his spear came down on it, like a hunter stabbing down on a leaping fish.

    His hand reached for it . . . and I did something incredibly smart, or maybe incredibly stupid.  I didn¡¯t slow down, instead I poured on the speed!  Herne just had time to grab the scabbard before I ploughed into him.  At any other time it would have been suicidal, an open invitation to be run through by his spear.  I¡¯d seen how fast he was with that thing, and I wasn¡¯t fast enough to dodge it.  At that moment though, he was the most distracted he¡¯d been since this fight started, his spear was out of position and his free hand was occupied.  It was the best option I had, so I crashed into him with all the force I could muster, swinging at his head as I did so.

    Yes, I¡¯d caught him flat-footed, his focus on the sheath rather than me, and I got a good hit in, a punch packing not just all my strength, but also all the force of the momentum of my flight.  I¡¯m pretty sure Kali would have approved, since it sent the Horned God staggering.  I saw his grip on the sheath loosen, and I savagely yanked on it with my TK, my halo singing as I shoved all the power I could into the action.

    The move was partly successful, the scabbard shot towards me as though I¡¯d wrapped it in invisible chains and the other ends were attached to to a speeding train.  There was just one problem, Herne refused to let go.

    ¡°Insolent brat!¡±

    I could practically taste the frustration dripping from those two words as his spear shot towards me, but I¡¯d been expecting it.  The weapon was still wickedly fast, stabbing out like a viper, but an overdose of adrenaline had sharpened my senses to a razor edge, and I knew where it¡¯d come from.  I wasn¡¯t as fast, but this time I was the one that had moved first, my left wing sweeping up, the hardened sword-like feathers smashing into the side of the spearpoint, a screeching noise like an iron nail on a chalkboard clawing at my ears.  I didn¡¯t think my feathers could have stood up to a direct blow, but they were up to parrying the spear to the side.

    I just had time to see his eyes widen in surprise, then they were obscured as I slammed my fist into the skull mask that he wore.

    That might have been a mistake.  I felt pain shoot up my arm as I felt a bone in my hand crack at the impact.  The punch had been strong, but it hadn¡¯t been perfect.  The impact hadn¡¯t just been on my knuckles, I was pretty sure the bone ridges of the mask had snapped at least one of my fingers.

    Herne was sent stumbling again, the skull mask he wore now cracked and a trick of blood running down his cheek.  Even so, he still held onto the scabbard with a death grip, fighting my Arcana even as I kept up the pressure.  All around us, the spectral dogs he¡¯d summoned milled around, their eyes fixed on the sheath as though it were a side of fresh meat, but otherwise unmoving.  Their body language was confused, and uncertain, as though they were waiting for orders that hadn¡¯t come and dared not do anything until they came.

    I took it all in out of the corner of my eyes, but most of my attention remained squarely fixed on the Horned God as I refused to let up for even a second!

    My right wing came around, trying to stab its sharpened feathers into his bare left arm.  The black lines tattooed on his skin lit up with a dark green light and the sword-like feather just . . . slowed.  It wasn¡¯t as though anything was resisting me, but instead, it was as though the distance my wing was trying to cover had grown.  It was still moving, but that last inch had instead become a thousand yards!

    ¡°RRRAAGH!¡±

    My surprise only gave him a small opening, but Herne seized it ruthlessly.  His cracked mask slammed into my face, the headbutt throwing me backwards as he was too close for my shield to defend me.  my face creased into a snarl as I gestured sharply with my broken hand, ignoring the pain.  In response a spike of rock shot up from the ground, trying to impale the god, but he was already moving out of the way, his chains rattling as he threw the sheath away!

    I goggled in surprise at the move, then cursed myself as I saw a figure grab the thrown scabbard.  At first glance, it was a man, but a second look made me notice the pale skin, the yellow-green pits of fire for eyes, and the teeth that I¡¯d seen far too many times in horror films.  The vampire-like man caught the treasure, then hissed as his hands smoked where they touched the exposed metal.  Still, he didn¡¯t let go, instead, he darted backwards shifting his grip so he only touched the cloth.

    ¡°Take it!¡± Herne roared, not taking his eyes off me as he did so. ¡°This is what we need!  With this, we can repay the Old Bloods, free our brethren, reclaim Queen Maeve¡¯s honour!  I shall hold him off!  GO!¡±

    I had to swallow a curse as I tried to send Arcana telekinesis at the new threat, but somehow Herne slashed his spear through the magic before I could reach him, the Arcana falling apart before I could get a grip.  And just like that, the situation was reversed.  Now I was the one that was forced to act and Herne was the one who only had to worry about buying time.  Damn it!  Every advantage I¡¯d had was either gone or reduced, the Horned God was definitely stronger than I was, and unless I somehow managed to catch him off guard again I wasn¡¯t going to be able to hurt him nearly as badly again.

    Then there was no time for more thoughts.  Flames roared up in my hands, twin pools of heat that I condensed and fired at Herne as fast as I could.  He brought up his spear and swatted at the flames, batting them away as though a phantom hurricane had suddenly ripped them from the air.  Behind him, the pale man was turning, getting ready to run.  I tried to think of something to do, anything, but nothing came to mind that wouldn¡¯t be stopped by Herne.  Snarling I reached out to the sea with one hand, even as I started to build up lightning in my other.

    Then a roar split the air, and the pale man disappeared in a blur of brown and burning red.  His body slammed into the concrete a few metres away, twisted and broken but still burning with the discoloured flames that I knew would help him recover.  What didn¡¯t go with him was the scabbard, which was instead caught in the mouth of the huge bear that had re-entered the fight.

    ¡°NO!¡±

    Herne turned, reaching for the sheath, I saw my chance!  Lightning stabbed out like a spear, but even distracted as he was the horned god reacted, his own weapon darting out to bat the lightning away even as he hurled himself at the giant bear.  The massive beast saw him coming and lashed out with a paw, and I flung myself forward as fast as he could.

    Everything happened at once, one action blurring into the next in a chaotic mess that I could barely keep track of.  The bear tried to pull back, but Herne¡¯s spear stabbed out, piercing flesh and impaling bone.  Despite the huge size difference, the bear''s movements were arrested, the spear in its face holding it in place like a nail when it tried to shy back.  In the same movement, the horned god lunged forward, his left hand clamping down on the sheath and yanking it back as the bear¡¯s mouth opened in reflexive pain.  Then my left wing stabbed into Herne¡¯s back, the sword-like feathers running straight through him, piercing his heart and both lungs at least, maybe even his stomach and liver too

    ¡°Huurrk!¡±

    It was the first exclamation of pain that Herne had made in the entire fight.  Not letting myself think of just what I was doing I twisted my wing, turning the bladed feathers inside him.  If he¡¯d been mortal it would have shredded his entire torso.

    Herne wasn¡¯t a mortal though.  Even though he¡¯d been run through by something like five swords there wasn¡¯t even a drop of blood.  Instead, that damned yellowish-green fire spilt out, licking around my feathers.  Strangely it didn¡¯t burn, but I could feel it slithering over my wings, more like cold slime than burning fire.

    ¡°RRRAAAHHHH!¡±

    The huge bear didn¡¯t let the chance pass.  Even with the god¡¯s spear sticking out of its muzzle the bear didn¡¯t hesitate.  Its jaws came round, closing on the impaled god like some kind of industrial machine.  I swore I could hear the cracking and snapping of bones as the bear shook its head.

    I saw a glint of gold, and my attention was dragged away to where the wrapped form of King Arthur¡¯s scabbard lay.  Without hesitation, I reached out with my magic and pulled it to me as hard as I could.  The sheath shot at me like a cannonball, hitting my outstretched arms with enough force that it actually hurt, regardless of my enhanced durability.  Still, I wrapped my arms around it as though I was a starving man just handed a full baguette sandwich with all the trimmings.

    ¡°NO!¡±

    Herne¡¯s reaction was immediate and violent!  As he shouted the word the ground around him exploded!  Dozens of roots, each as thick as a tree trunk speared up through the concrete, shredding the few nearby buildings.  The bear took the brunt of it though.  At least twenty roots slammed into it, the force so great that even as massive as it was the beast staggered back as though struck by a truck.  Even worse, though the bear¡¯s hide resisted most of the roots, three broke through, impaling it through the shoulders and side.  Blood closer to molten metal than biological plasma, gushed out, sizzling as it hit the ruined pavement.

    For its part the bear slumped in place, the fight having gone out of it.  I could hear a low whine coming from it, a pained animal noise that tugged at me.

    Herne staggered to his feet, dragging my attention away from the bear and back to him.  The god was hurt, wounds that would have killed a mortal a dozen times over wracked his body, but he burned with that unnatural fire, and he refused to go down.  Leaning on his spear, now pulled from the bear¡¯s bones, as though it were a staff, he glared at me.

    ¡°That sheath . . . give it to me, or I swear I shall tear you apart and take it from your corpse!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a boast or an attempt at a bluff, there was too much vitriol, too much malice.  That was a promise, one I could bet my life on.  One I was betting my life on.  I could feel fear trying to get a hold on me, I could feel doubts and uncertainties clawing at the back of my mind.

    He could do it, I was sure!  I¡¯d seen those others recovering from being smashed into paste, from being burnt all the way down to ashes.  Herne was hurt, but those damned yellow-green flames were already starting to work at the edges of his wounds.  I could keep fighting, but . . . would I do anything?  Could I win?  Every injury I inflicted healed, and I could see other figures drawing closer in the dust and debris, eyes shining in the dark with yellow and green fire.  Could I really keep the scabbard?  Would he really kill me?

    I wavered . . . unsure of what to do.  I was tired, I felt like I was just banging my head against a brick wall, and my only ally was bleeding, down and in pain.  In that moment, I didn¡¯t know which way I¡¯d choose.

    Then the choice was made for me.

 Chapter 11: The Scabbard: Part Two

    Chapter 11: The Scabbard: Part Two

    ¡°Yeah, not happening.  Sorry, not sorry!¡±

    The casual voice came from behind me as I heard the crunch of shattered concrete underfoot as a figure emerged from the dust.

    Kali looked a bit roughed up, dust clung to her form, blood clung to her knuckles and a visible burn mark marred her tank top.  Still, she didn¡¯t seem to care.  She was walking casually, as though she were entering a bar rather than stepping onto a battlefield.  The wide grin on her face though . . . that showed far too many teeth to just be from simple happiness, there was an edge to it, the sort that could draw blood.

    ¡°Okay.  Wotan was a good fight, but him just breaking down into flames was just a letdown,¡± She commented, coming to stand beside me and facing Herne. ¡°Where¡¯s the blood?  Where¡¯re the breaking bones?  Where¡¯s the fun?  That¡¯s just promising me a good time and then leaving me hanging?¡±

    ¡°Kali, what are you doing here?¡±

    I didn¡¯t have to be a genius to pick up on the frustration in the horned god¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Well, my pal here seemed to be having a hard time, so I can¡¯t let him get too roughed up now, can I?¡± The goddess smiled slightly wider, then turned to look at me. ¡°Good work hanging on this long.  Herne¡¯s no weakling, so you did okay to hold out.¡±

    She turned back to the god, her stance lowering slightly as her knees bent and her muscles tensed.

    ¡°Still, I want some real fun!  What d¡¯you think Herne?  Can you show a girl a good time?¡±

    There was a certain level of dissonance here.  Kali¡¯s voice was like thick and rich chocolate, sexy as hell.  The thing was that even if her words were hot and smokey, bloodlust practically radiating off her.  She wanted blood and violence almost like a junky might crave their next hit!  Right there, for the first time, I really understood why all the others were so wary of her.

    Herne could clearly see it as well.  I could practically see that he was measuring his chances in a fight and he wasn¡¯t getting any answers that he liked.  I knew he was going to act, but I couldn¡¯t guess what.  Then he moved, too fast for me to react.

    His spear came up, but rather than being levelled at us the point was aimed right at the bear¡¯s head.

    ¡°Attack me and the demigod dies!¡±

    Damn!  So the bear was a demigod?  I¡¯d wondered, but hadn¡¯t really had time for much more.  It didn¡¯t matter though.  Even if the bear had been some sort of magic beast instead of a demigod, it¡¯d fought beside me, and I wasn¡¯t going to just abandon it.

    ¡°Kali!  They¡¯re an ally.¡±

    I said it quickly because I honestly wasn¡¯t sure if she would have attacked anyway if I hadn¡¯t.  The black-haired goddess looked like she might have just not cared, but my words seemed to make her hesitate.

    Herne seized on that moment and his spear darted forward.  For a moment I thought he was attacking, but instead, the pointed tip of the crude weapon just came to rest on the fur of the huge beast¡¯s forehead.  Under other circumstances it might have almost been funny, seeing the bear go almost cross-eyed as it tried to focus in on the spear, but any humour was lost with what happened next.

    The now familiar yellow-green fire erupted from the spear, enveloping the bear.  I stared in horror for a second, then moved to charge forward.  It was a stupid move, after all, what was I going to do?  All I¡¯d have accomplished was to carry the scabbard conveniently closer to Herne so he could take it from me.  No plan, no built up power, I¡¯d have been an easy target, so it was a good thing that Kali¡¯s hand came down on my shoulder and stopped me as dead as if I¡¯d been moored to a mountain.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t an attack, he¡¯s just trying to rile you up and make you do something stupid!¡±

    Her voice was quiet but intense, and her eyes never wavered as she glared at the other god.

    For his part Herne matched her glare for glare, their gazes clashing like swords across the ruined pavement.  My attention was on the bear though.  As I watched it was as if the flames were melting it, but not like normal flesh caught in flames.  It was more like . . . ice?  Maybe some sort of chocolate statue?  As though the body I could see wasn¡¯t really flesh it just sloughed away, the melted remains fading out of existence as though there were an illusion ending.  In just a few seconds the great beast the size of a small truck was gone and all that was left was . . . a kid?

    Hanging in the roots that Herne had summoned was a boy who could not have been a day over fourteen at most.  He had dark brown hair and was dressed in jeans, sports shoes and a dark green hooded jacket.  All his clothes looked battered and worn, and the boy himself looked . . . worn out.  He was also unconscious, hanging there like a side of beef at a butcher¡¯s.

    ¡°This boy . . .¡± Herne spoke, his words slow as his gaze flicked from Kali to me. ¡°This boy fought at your side . . . are you so ready to abandon him?¡±

    The spear¡¯s wooden tip was now pointing at the kid¡¯s neck, and it didn¡¯t take much imagination to guess what the horned god was implying.  I responded in the only way I could that might save the other demigod.

    ¡°Kali.  If he kills that boy then feel free to go after him as hard as you like.  Don¡¯t hold back.  Show me everything you can do to make him regret it.¡±

    ¡°Oh Adam,¡± Her voice was a purr, as though a tiger had just gained the power of speech after having seen a fatted cow with nowhere to run. ¡°You know just what to say to a girl, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I am not so foolish!¡± Herne replied. ¡°There is no need for blood.  The boy for the scabbard.  Your ally for the sheath.¡±

    That made Kali blink, and I think it was only then that she noticed what I was holding.

    ¡°Wait!  Is that Arthur¡¯s scabbard?  What the hell is it doing here?¡±

    ¡°I do not know and I do not care!¡± the horned god declared. ¡°The value of such a potent treasure outstrips even a demigod such as this boy.  Give it to me and I shall release him to you unharmed.  Refuse and I shall take him with me instead, my spoils for this night''s battle.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not taking that kid!¡±

    My response was immediate and vehement.  The bear . . . the boy, had fought at my side.  That mattered!  And he was also so young.  Sure, I wasn¡¯t exactly an old man myself, but seeing that small form held by the roots and realising it was the same being as the giant bear that seemed almost like a force of nature . . . something inside me just felt he needed to be protected.

    ¡°Then give me the scabbard!¡±

    Yeah, I wasn¡¯t going to do that either.  Arthur was the UK¡¯s shield against all the crap going on in the rest of the world.  If he went down my home country was going to be in major trouble, and a big part of what made him difficult to take down was the scabbard.

    On the other hand . . . kid hostage!  What the hell was I meant to do here?

    ¡°Adam, what is happening here?¡±

    As though summoned by my thoughts Joan, in her angel form, touched down next to me.  like Kali, it was clear she¡¯d been in a fight.  Her armour was visibly scratched and dented, and one of her white wings was sporting a bloodstain.  Still, she looked more than ready to fight.

    ¡°Hostage situation,¡± I explained as briefly as I could, holding up the scabbard. ¡°I¡¯ve got this and he wants it in exchange for the boy.¡±

    ¡°Then perhaps we should secure both the boy and the scabbard.¡±

    The cool and calm voice came from Athena as she emerged from the dust like some sort of slasher villain entering a scene.  If I wasn¡¯t so keyed up already I might have jumped.  She had a spear in one hand and was otherwise completely unruffled.  Even her hair looked as though she¡¯d just stepped out of a fashion magazine cover.

    ¡°I see.  You could only be kept engaged for so long.¡±

    Herne had stepped closer to the boy and was watching us all like a hawk.  Behind him, I could see more forms moving in the shadows, some smaller, some huge, some animal, some humanoid, some . . . other.  There were plenty of those eyes, illuminated with the sulphurous green and yellow flames.  Yeah, I had reinforcements, but so did Herne.

    Herne must have thought the same thing, because he suddenly stepped in close with the boy, and was holding his spear at his throat almost like a dagger.  The god¡¯s other arm grabbed the back of his jacket and lifted him as easily as if he were a packet of vegetables at a supermarket.  Holding the boy Herne stepped back, and the darkness behind him seemed to surge forward, wrapping around him and making his form hazy, harder to see.

    ¡°The boy for the scabbard!¡± He snarled, glaring at the goddesses. ¡°I know you are stronger than I, but do not think you can just take the boy from me.  His head shall roll before you can free him!  you know this, and so do I!¡±

    Athena¡¯s eyes narrowed at his words, and I saw the hand holding her spear tighten around the weapon, but she didn¡¯t refute his words.  Kali didn¡¯t look happy either, her earlier good humour was gone, and her eyes now followed Herne¡¯s every move, looking for an opening to show itself.

    For his part the horned god glared back at them, then shifted his eyes to me, but kept the speartip pressed against the boy¡¯s throat.

    ¡°If you shall not trade then the boy shall have to do.  He is powerful, his bloodlines strong and rich enough to serve our needs.  If we have to he can be traded, though the scabbard would make for a more valuable coin.  Think of that.  Will you let this boy be sold into bondage and slavery?  Is that sheath truly worth it?¡±

    I knew he was trying to put pressure on me, I knew it was a mind game.  The problem was that it was working.

    The kid or the sheath?  A single life against who knew how many potential lost lives in the UK?  Did I have the right to make the choice?  But could I live with myself if I condemned that boy to slavery or maybe something even worse?  My mind chased itself in circles, morality and cold rationality clashing and leaving only confusion behind them.  I wanted to give an answer, but I had none to give!

    Then lightning cracked across the sky and I saw that Hadriel had joined us, hovering above our small group and staring down at Herne.  We were all here, and that was a lot of firepower gathered together.  My eyes flicked around, then darted back to the horned hunter, and I noticed something for the first time.

    Herne looked . . . weaker.  When I¡¯d first faced him those yellow and green flames had danced across his skin in flickering tongues of transparent fire more than six inches long, moving with vitality and energy.  Now they were banked and small, more like guttering candles that barely moved at all.  The god himself seemed somehow lesser as well, his figure slightly less muscled than it had been earlier, the chains he wore seemed somehow more rusted than before.  Even his spear seemed less, the leaves upon it now looking limp and wilted.

    I didn¡¯t know what was going on, but at that moment my group was at its strongest and Herne seemed to be the weakest I¡¯d seen of him.  Maybe we could have a chance to-

    Before I could react Herne pulled the boy in front of him, holding him almost like a shield, though the tip of his spear never wavered from the boy¡¯s neck.  Behind the god his huge black horse emerged from the shadows, its eyes still burning with yellow and green flames, though like those on its master, its fires were banked.

    ¡°I am not foolish enough to face odds such as these unprepared,¡± Herne declared, backing away from us slowly. ¡°I shall take the boy for now.  In two days, we shall meet again, then you can make your choice.  The boy, or the scabbard.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    A single leap took him and his hostage onto the horse''s back, and the mount started to back away into the darkness filled with those burning eyes.

    ¡°Where?¡± I shouted, saying the first thing that came to mind. ¡°Where do we meet you?¡±

    ¡°There are farmlands north of the city of Paris,¡± Herne replied, his voice calm despite the tension in his body. ¡°In two days we shall prepare a signal for you and yours at dusk.  Do not fear, you shall not miss it.¡±

    I wanted to ask more questions, to just keep him talking in the hopes that some flash of inspiration would strike me and I¡¯d know exactly what to do.  But before I could open my mouth it was like the darkness surged forward, covering Herne and his hostage, obscuring them from view.  Then it retreated, and they were gone.  All of them.  The god, the horse, the kid, all the things that had been lurking behind them.  All of them were gone, even to my frantic attempts to sense them with magic.

    ¡°Adam, what is that you have?¡±

    Joan¡¯s question brought me back to myself, and I looked down at the wrapped scabbard I held.  Oh boy, things were going to get complicated.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Marcello came to a stop just outside the docks and leaned against a brick wall as his lungs heaved for breath.

    Behind him, he could still see the flames and hear the crash of collapsing buildings, but it was mercifully distant.  Using his magic to enhance his body wasn¡¯t his best talent, but he was at least decently proficient in it.  Now he was far from the docks, deeper into the small city, close to some restaurants and nightclubs.

    He was also exhausted.

    Slumping down he sat on the pavement, his back to the wall as he tried to get his heart under control as it pounded in his chest.  As much as his physical state was a distraction it wasn¡¯t enough to let him forget a single overwhelming fact.

    He¡¯d lost the scabbard!

    He¡¯d had it in his hands, one of the great treasures of Camelot and Avalon, an artefact that was peer to the likes of the Holy Grail or Excalibur.  And he¡¯d lost it.

    Oh gods, Le Fay was going to kill him!  Even his patron wouldn¡¯t be able to save him.  No, his patron wouldn¡¯t even try!  What kind of idiot would be willing to make an enemy of an immortal sorceress just to save someone like Marcello?  Yes, he was skilled in magic and had some natural advantages, but that was hardly worth conflict with the Witch of Avalon.  The scarred mage knew that he¡¯d be discarded like rotten meat.

    There had to be something he could do!  Think Marcello!  Think!

    Could he get the scabbard back somehow?  That vampire . . . if Marcello was right about his origins then maybe . . . maybe there was a chance?

    Who was he trying to fool?  Yes, there was a chance, but there was also a chance that he¡¯d turn a corner and trip over a sack full of gold.  Just because it could happen didn¡¯t mean it would!  And finding a fortune just lying around was more likely than being able to steal a treasure back from the-

    ¡°Well now, Marcello.  Are you feeling well?  And where are the companions that I told you to wait with?  Has something unpleasant befallen them?

    The regal and melodious voice came from just beside him, and the sound of it almost caused the scarred mage to swallow his tongue in shock.  Why was she here now?!  She¡¯d been keeping them waiting for days, why was she here so soon after everything went to hell?!

    Almost against his will he looked up and was greeted by the sight of Morgan le Fay, pale skin, dark chestnut hair, aristocratic beauty and eyes that contained the weight of centuries.  She gazed down upon him as though he were some disobedient mongrel puppy she had found playing in the mud.  Something mildly amusing, but dirty and ultimately worthless to her.

    ¡°I . . . I . . .¡±

    He tried to say something, to explain what had happened, to find the words to convince her that this wasn¡¯t his fault, but nothing came out.  How could he lie to her, to a sorceress that had deceived Merlin himself?

    ¡°And where might Arthur¡¯s scabbard be?¡± She continued, seemingly uncaring of his stuttering. ¡°I instructed you to keep it on or near to you at all times.  Are you disobeying me?  Are you simply going to discard such a valuable treasure, and after all the effort I put into having it stolen?¡±

    Marcello found that his stutter had spontaneously evolved into an inability to make any noise at all.  All he could do was stare at the immortal sorceress and try and imagine just how she was going to make him pay for his blunder.  He found he had a poor imagination, being able to only come up with things like knives and fire.  He was sure that she¡¯d be far more creative though.

    ¡°It took a masterpiece of a homunculus clone, two highly trained assassins, your own bloodline and not a few expensive artefacts to ensure the theft of that sheath.  It represents a vast investment of time, wealth and power.  So . . . where is it?¡±

    Marcello wanted to plead, to beg, to bargain, anything that might buy him at least a chance at life.  However, looking into those eyes, he found himself unable to muster up the will to even try.  In the face of Morgan le Fay . . . what the hell was he supposed to do?  She had him overwhelmingly outclassed in every conceivable way.  Just about the only thing he could beat her at was the number of scars they possessed, and that was only because her immortality ensured she didn¡¯t scar at all.  He couldn¡¯t trick her, overpower her, outthink her or convince her.  All he could do was point back the way he¡¯d come with a shaking arm and wait for her punishment.  Nothing else.

    ¡°So, it is lost?¡± She paused, and for a moment the scarred mage saw a halo of magic form about her, the colour the green of leaf and vines mixed with the brown of bark and stems.  Then it was gone and mild amusement touched her face.

    ¡°I can see why you fled,¡± She commented, glancing down at Marcello once more. ¡°Herne, Kali, Athena, the agents of the High Heaven and two powerful demigods . . . that is not a battlefield for a mere mortal mage.¡±

    Her face broke into a smile, beautiful, but edged with cruelty.

    ¡°This might interest you, Marcello.  One of the demigods there, the ones that were able to fight Herne the Hunter himself, one of them is the demigod whose blood you passed to me.  Tell me, do you think he would be pleased with you if I were to introduce you?  Do you think he would want vengeance?  How much do you think it would be worth to him if I offered you to him as a greeting gift?  Do you think it would be worth it, to gain the favour of a demigod with such powerful deities as his allies?¡±

    He was starting to break out in a cold sweat as he stared up at her.  Yes, he thought it would be worth it.  He was all but worthless to her now, and he¡¯d just failed her in the task set to him.  If she wanted to recoup her loss then offering him up on a silver tray to the demigod whose Awakening he had helped disrupt would give her an in she could exploit..

    Damn it all!  He loathed this, this feeling of helplessness!  It was why he¡¯d sought power, first in violence, then in magic, so that he could escape this feeling!  But here he was, at the mercy of someone so far beyond him that he might as well have been an ant for her to step on.

    ¡°So, you not only lost the scabbard, but you have also survived where my more . . . loyal servants have fallen, and now the scabbard is in the hands of a very powerful demigod with a small host of divine allies.  Do you know what I am going to do to make you pay for this blunder?¡±

    Marcello could only shake his head.  Maybe . . . maybe he could kill himself before she took him?  If he was fast enough then maybe he could detonate his own magic?  Could he blast his own body apart with enough damage to send his soul off to the afterlife before she could have a chance to grab it?  No!  no, While he was alive he had a chance! Maybe he could convince her he was of more use as a slave than as some torture puppet.   It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a chance!  And that thought was enough to put a little steel back into his spine.

    His eyes met hers.  Yeah, he was all too aware of just how weak he was by comparison, but . . . damn it!  he could at least look at her without cowering!  He had at least that much pride.

    Morgan le Fay met his eyes, and her smile grew into something that might have been called a grin, but which seemed more predatory to Marcello than anything that vampire could have managed.

    ¡°Do you know what I shall do?¡±

    Her voice was almost a purr, the sound of a cat licking the blood from a freshly killed prey.  He did his best to brace himself, to martial his hope and to remind himself that there was always a way out.

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    What?!  No! Obviously, he hadn¡¯t heard that right, it was just some phantom reply, a conjuration of his desperate wishes.  He fully expected her to say something else, something worse.  Maybe, if he was lucky, he¡¯d be stuck as some thrall or slave, no freedom but at least some autonomy and a minimum of suffering.  But . . . nothing came.  All he could do was stare at her and finally vocalise his confusion with a single barely coherent word.

    ¡°Wh-what?¡±

    She just smiled at him, a genuine smile, devoid of her earlier menace.

    ¡°I am going to do nothing to you. In fact, I shall help you escape this place and return to your ally.  Consider your debt paid, there is no longer any obligation between us.¡±

    He was hearing the words, but weren¡¯t making any sense!  Was this some sort of fever dream?  Had he had some sort of breakdown and this was all in his head?

    ¡°I . . . I don¡¯t understand,¡± Marcello was genuinely bewildered, unable to grasp what was going on. ¡°You . . . you''re just letting me go?  Why?  I lost the scabbard, I failed.  Why . . . I don¡¯t . . .¡±

    Some part of him was railing at him for questioning good fate.  He should just take this and go, no looking back, no hesitation.  But another part, perhaps an irrational part, needed to know what the hell was going on!

    ¡°Stealing the scabbard was important, but having it was never part of my plans,¡± The immortal sorceress admitted. ¡°Destiny and fate are wrapped around it.  I stole it in the past, but I was unable to hold onto it, events conspired to drag it from my hands.  I am not so foolish as to fight a fate enshrined in legend, I have seen others do likewise and have no wish to share their fates.  It is my fate to steal the sheath, not to possess it.¡±

    ¡°But then . . . what did you want it for?  Now . . . now it will go back to Arthur!¡±

    Marcello¡¯s question caused the smile to fall from her face and an expression of mild contempt to twist her features.

    ¡°And why should that matter to me?  do you think me so dedicated to my half-brother¡¯s downfall?¡±

    His head nodded without his conscious will.  She asked and he responded, it was as simple as that.

    ¡°There is no great love between us,¡± She admitted. ¡°But we have made some measure of peace.  I was among those who escorted him to Avalon after his mortal wounding in battle with my son.  Our quarrel cost us each dearly.  I lost my son, my lands, my lover, and my pride.  He lost his kingdom, his wife, his knights and his only child.  Even I had to say ¡®enough¡¯.¡±

    ¡°But . . . then why steal it at all.¡±

    It made no sense.  He¡¯d thought that Morgan le Fay was repeating history to weaken Arthur, but if there was no animosity between them then why would she have expended such resources and effort into stealing the scabbard?

    ¡°Oh, I had several reasons, rest assured that it was no minor whim on my part.

    ¡°First of all, it is the destiny of the scabbard to be stolen.  That event has the weight of legend behind it, and all too often legends repeat.  If I had not stolen it then one of his other enemies would have.  By being the one to steal it I can at least control when and how it happens.  In this way, Arthur will not be completely bereft, and there is a chance for him to regain it where he failed to do so in the past.

    ¡°My second reason is to discharge my own fate.  I may have made something of a peace with Arthur, but just as with the scabbard, the weight of legend bears down on me as well.  I am no slave to it, my free will is unrestrained.  Still, it is . . . unpleasant.  I have no desire to torment my half-brother or his knights, but Morgan le Fay is known through legend as the enemy of Camelot.  By making this my first action against Arthur I skip much of my legend and approach the ending.  By doing this I escape the weight of my legend, and can later make amends with Arthur.

    ¡°My third and final reason is the simplest though.  Chaos!¡±

    The way that she spoke the final word was almost hungry, as though she were tasting the word and delighting in the flavour.

    ¡°W-What?¡± his stutter was somewhat reduced, but it was still far from gone.

    ¡°It has not been too long since the Paths opened up again, but even so, do you not agree that some things have settled back into a status quo far too quickly?  Arthur made a magnificent return when he faced Balor, but he has settled into a comfortable and calm position as the protector of his homeland.  Likewise, the nearby countries have settled in how they regard him, and that has in turn dictated the attitude of the rest of the world.

    ¡°Letting things settle so would be . . . dull.  I cannot allow my little half-brother to grow complacent, so this should be a suitable call to arms for him and his knights.  They should be less willing to simply let things be, they should be searching for ways to improve themselves, to grow more powerful.  Just by taking his scabbard and bringing it here, Briton has been thrown into chaos, their security and safety threatened and their thirst for power to protect themselves awakened once more.

    ¡°And see the havoc that has been wrought here.  The sheath has been unveiled for less than twenty minutes, and already demigods and gods contest one another over it.  The demigod has it for now, but I can sense that Herne still seeks to take it, and he has not given up on it, despite having had to retreat.  Now, shall the demigod keep the scabbard, despite the fact that Arthur shall want it back?  Will he return it, and if so then how shall Herne react?  What of the goddesses I sensed, shall they be so eager to let such a prize slip through their fingers?  Yes, there shall be so much chaos in the offing.¡±

    ¡°Why . . . why are you telling me this?¡±  Was this just to boast?  Was it some sort of cruel game, sating his curiosity before silencing him forever?

    ¡°What difference does your knowing make?¡± She replied, her hand waving dismissively. ¡°Should you choose to share this with your patron it shall simply lead to further chaos, more ripples being spread.  Should you choose to stay silent then that shall in turn cause ripples of your own.  Should this knowledge spread to Arthur, it shall only make our reconciliation all the easier.  Should it not, it shall make my own task no harder.  Take whichever action you so wish, none of your paths can harm me, and many of your actions can serve my purpose.¡±

    He had no words.  What could he say to that?  She was right, the truth couldn¡¯t harm her, indeed, it mostly helped her.  The only ones he could tell of her actions were those that he either couldn¡¯t lie to or would not dare lie to.  Hells, the truth was more dangerous to him than it was to her.  She had the power to be nigh untouchable, he, on the other hand, was all too vulnerable.  If it was learnt that he was the last survivor of those that stole the scabbard . . . well, there were many that would happily offer up his head on a silk cushion if it would provide an in with King Arthur.

    Morgan le Fay gestured with one hand and a portal opened, one through which he could see the castle that had served as his residence for the last few weeks.

    ¡°Be off with you, Marcello,¡± she stated, her hand waving at him as though he were some bothersome fly. ¡°Your debt is paid, and the deal between us is completed.  Perhaps there can be another deal in the future, but for now, all obligations between us are settled.¡±

    His arm burned, and he could feel the geass that bound him dissolve into nothing.  He . . . he really was free!

    Without pausing to think he all but dived through the portal.  He heard it close behind him, but by the time he looked back it was gone.  He was currently in some field, his only company a few sheep that had been startled by his sudden appearance.  It was late in the night, and the nearest homes were far away, but he didn¡¯t care.  He was free, away from that battle and away from the immortal sorceress of Avalon!  It would take him some time to return to the castle of the acolyte, but that was alright.  He was just glad to be away from Le Havre.

    Because Morgan le Fay had been right, there was going to be chaos.

 Chapter 12: Aftermath and Arguements: Part One

    Chapter 12: Aftermath and Arguements: Part One

    The aftermath of the fight at the docks had been one royal mess.  Talking to the police and officials afterwards had been another mess.  And now that we had a chance to stop and rest for a bit, more messes were catching up to us.  All I could do was thank God for Joan because I could not have dealt with all that on my own.  Murder goblins I could deal with, an endless sea of bureaucracy was another matter.

    ¡°Do you have any idea how much damage has been done?  What am I meant to tell the owners of those buildings?  Do you know how much all this is going to cost them?¡±

    Murder goblins you could blast with fireballs, bureaucrats you couldn¡¯t magic to death, no matter how much you might want to.

    Honestly, I didn¡¯t even know who the man talking to Joan was.  Some sort of official or representative?  Whoever he was I had to give him some credit, he was face to face with Joan of Arc and he wasn¡¯t letting it break his stride.

    ¡°Rest assured, these concerns shall be dealt with, in one way or another.¡± Joan declared, facing the man across the desk with admirable calm. ¡°Either funds shall be provided or the damage repaired.  The owners shall be suitably compensated and the warehouses and docks returned to full functionality.

    ¡°However, you must understand that the crisis is not yet finished.  The Wild Hunt remains at large in this country and . . .¡±

    I just tuned out the rest.  It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t care, but the weight of the scabbard I held in my arms kept reminding me of more pressing concerns.  I¡¯d wrapped it up in some torn-up tarpaulin, but I could feel the magic radiating from it.  I knew that anyone with magical sensitivity would have no trouble working out what I held.  That knowledge felt like a sword of Damocles hanging over my head.  Compared to that these concerns of money and property damage just seemed so . . . trivial.

    Trying to distract myself I glanced at my other companions.  Kali was stretched out on an old and beaten-up sofa, apparently comfortably asleep.  I honestly envied her ability to just nod off.  Hadriel was in a corner, leaning back against the wall, her face . . .  Pensive?  Troubled?  It was certainly the least confident that I¡¯d ever seen her.

    As for Athena, she was standing only a few feet away, and when she saw me looking over she gestured for me to come over.

    ¡°Come.  We must speak.¡±

    For the most part, I just wanted to get out of that room before the official or lawyer or whatever decided it would be a good idea to put me through a round of questioning.  So when the tall goddess moved to leave the room I followed her.  The building that we were in was some sort of branch office under the control of city hall, and finding a quiet spot to talk wasn¡¯t too hard.  We ended up next to some fire escape doors, some distance from the more crowded offices.  Once there Athena turned to look at me, her eyes also flicking down to the scabbard I held in my arms.

    ¡°We . . . must review what happened last night,¡± the goddess stated, then pointed at the wrapped scabbard. ¡°There is also that to take into account.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°Last night wasn¡¯t so great.¡±

    ¡°Considering that you had little in the way of warning you conducted yourself well in your battle with Herne.¡±

    I was honestly surprised at her praise, faint as it was.  Not unwelcome though, and it offered me an opening to ask some questions that had been boiling around in my head.

    ¡°So . . . why was he here?  The last I¡¯d heard of him he¡¯d made a deal with the American government and was acting as their bounty hunter.¡±

    ¡°That was a pact undertaken in his own name,¡± she explained. ¡°Last night he was not here as an independent actor, he was here in his role as the Hunter, the King of the Wild Hunt.¡±

    ¡°I know I¡¯m not going to like the answer, but can you tell me what the difference is?¡±

    My reply managed to tease a small smile out of her, but her face turned serious as she answered my question.

    ¡°Herne faced you as the Head of the Hunt, which both strengthened and weakened him.  Because he was sharing his power with the rest of the Hunt he could not bring it fully to bear upon you, however, while it was divided he had near immortal allies and was himself far harder to harm.¡±

    Say what?  I¡¯d faced him while he was weakened?  He was holding back?!

    ¡°Okay, I think I need to know a bit more here.  Just what is the Wild Hunt?¡±

    I knew the generalities of course, a magic hunt that appears in folklore, meant to be feared, used in old times to explain extremely nasty storms.  Not exactly useful at the moment.

    ¡°The Wild Hunt is . . . perhaps the strongest of the mongrel forces in the world.¡±

    Interesting choice of words.  ¡®Mongrel¡¯ was normally used negatively.  So, what¡¯d that mean in this case?

    ¡°What¡¯s a ¡®mongrel force¡¯?¡±

    ¡°There are many factions in the world, but they generally remain within the culture to which they belong.  As such, you will rarely see Hindu gods working with Viking gods, or Greek titans allying with Celtic Unseelie fay.  Such alliances are not unknown to exist, but they are normally small or temporary affairs, but there are exceptions.

    ¡°These forces are disparagingly called ¡®mongrel forces¡¯ by others since most regard such alliances with some level of contempt.  Such alliances often fail spectacularly, the larger examples often ending in an orgy of backstabbing that takes entire cities down with it.¡±

    ¡®An orgy of backstabbing¡¯, now there was an image to conjure with.  Still, I could see what Athena meant, culture clash was bad enough with normal people.  How bad could it get when you threw in things like different species and supernatural powers?

    ¡°The Wild Hunt is the single greatest example of a mongrel force, the proof that they should not be underestimated.  Despite not being a true pantheon in their own right the Hunt as a whole is powerful enough that individual gods, or even small groups of them, would hesitate to face it.¡±

    Athena paused, and looked at me, seemingly to make sure I was paying attention.  She didn¡¯t have anything to worry about, unless the building started coming down around us I wasn¡¯t going to get distracted.

    ¡°The origins of the Wild Hunt rests with the Norse pantheon, the original Hunt being the creation of Odin, one of his plans to prepare for Ragnar?k.  Though it showed early promise the results were not to his liking and he eventually abandoned the Hunt, no doubt expecting it to fracture without his leadership.

    ¡°The Hunt didn¡¯t break though, instead it found a new leader, a young and ambitious demigod, who led the Wild Hunt down from Northern Europe to richer and more populated lands.  As time passed the Hunt took in others, regardless of their origins, adding their strength to their own and swelling their ranks.  The master of the Hunt changed several times, sometimes being overthrown and sometimes being chosen from the Hunt''s ranks after the old master died.  But even though it suffered losses and even defeats, the Wild Hunt never broke.

    ¡°Over the centuries it has been led by many famed names.  Diana, the Roman goddess of the wild, the Faery Frau Holle, the Scandinavian King Vold, and even your own nation¡¯s King Arthur led the Hunt for a few weeks.  Every one of them left their mark upon it, adding to the power of the Hunt itself.  The less impressive leaders were generally just placeholders, keeping the Hunt together until a true Head of the Hunt could be found.

    ¡°As for the rank and file . . . one of the aspects that makes the Wild Hunt such a formidable force is the sheer diversity of those who join. They do not care what the origin of a member is, once they are a part of the Hunt then they are one of them, that is all that matters.  During the Age of Legends, they travelled far, all about the world, gaining members from many cultures and powers.  They have Greek centaurs fighting beside Hindu lamiae, Celtic fey, native American Skinwalkers, European vampires, undead from a dozen different regions, ghosts, hellhounds, horrors from every corner of the world.

    ¡°Generally, the Wild Hunt is considered a neutral force, at least as far as the Heavens and Hell are concerned.  Occasionally the Hunt has been led by someone of strong morals, maybe to hunt some evildoer or something of that nature.  Other times the Hunt might be led by an evil leader, possibly even a demon or devil.  In either case, such examples are rare and brief, such leaders either stepping down, leaving or being slain in some way.  The Wild Hunt always returns to its roots, wild, free, as concerned with morals as a storm or a pack of wolves.¡±

    That filled in quite a few gaps in my knowledge and let me know just what I was dealing with, but I still had questions.

    ¡°Okay, so what can you tell me about them?  What was with the weird flames they all had?  Why was everyone immortal?¡±

    ¡°That leads back to Odin¡¯s original experiment.  He was looking for a way to survive Ragnar?k, the foretold death of his family and allies.  The Wild Hunt was meant to be a way for all who were a part of it to share their immortality.  He hoped that by binding his whole pantheon into the Hunt they would reinforce each other, essentially leaving them all unkillable, even by their prophesised enemies.

    ¡°It did not work though,¡± Athena explained, gesturing with an arm as though to point at some distant target. ¡°Rather than reinforcing one another the Hunt divided and shared their immortality, and since they were all immortal already there was effectively very little change.  Some of them were weakened, some of them were strengthened, ultimately it all evened out to be more or less the same.

    ¡°The Hunt continued though, and it learnt that even without Odin as the Head they could still divide and share the immortality of their members.  As they grew larger and more members of different races joined they found they could . . . layer that shared immortality.  The immortality of a vampire is different from that of a Fey, or a demon, or a hungry spirit.  By combining them all, and then using sorcery to let the Hunt take in energy from their kills to fuel that communal immortality, the Flames of the Wild Hunt were born.¡±

    ¡°Is that why they wouldn¡¯t stay dead?¡± I asked, leaning forward as one of my major concerns was finally being explained.

    ¡°Indeed, as long as the Hunt endures then none of its members shall die, and as long as the members endure the Hunt shall never end.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that just seems broken.  So, why haven¡¯t they just conquered everyone then, if they can¡¯t die?¡±

    Being able to recover the way some of those things last night had managed just seemed unfair.  Some of them had been reduced to little more than a bloody paste with some bone bits in there, yet they¡¯d still recovered and rejoined the fight.  I could see how devastating that could be in battle, just the impact on morale from fighting enemies that wouldn¡¯t stay dead would be devastating.  There had to be some limits or weaknesses, otherwise the Wild Hunt would be far more famous than it was.

    ¡°Immortality is not invincibility,¡± Athena stated, her face shifting into a smile with a sharp edge to it. ¡°They can be defeated, and the power of the Hunt is potent, but not inexhaustible.  If enough damage is done to the Hunt fast enough it is entirely possible for the underlying mystic framework that supports their immortality to . . . stutter.  It would recover, it is a robust system, but that could take hours or even days, time the Hunt would be left vulnerable.  That is why they were unwilling to face all of us at the docks, why they kept us apart and distracted.  Kali is powerful, enough to potentially break the Hunt if she went all out.  Of course, if she were to use her power with such abandon much of this city would be destroyed as well.

    ¡°There are other weaknesses of course.  You fought Herne, but do you truly believe that you faced his full power?  You are a powerful demigod Adam, and that child was strong as well from what I saw of the aftermath, but do you truly think you could face a god unleashing his full strength?¡±

    Okay, I could see what she was getting at.  Herne had been frighteningly powerful, but I¡¯d always got the impression he was holding back, even at the end, when we were fighting over the scabbard, it didn¡¯t feel like he was going all out.

    ¡°While Herne is the Head of the Hunt his strength is somewhat diminished.  His divinity is divided amongst his hunters along with his immortality, weakening him.  Some of his strength is returned by being the Head, the other hunters feeding him a portion of their own power to make up for what he has lost.  It does not return him to his full strength, but as you experienced it is still a formidable level of power.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Okay, that makes sense,¡± I agreed. ¡°Do you know why he was dragging things out though?  I thought he was playing with us, but if the rest of the Hunt was holding all of you guys up then Herne had to know it was only a matter of time ¡®til you guys made it through.  So why did he hold back?¡±

    Athena nodded, her calm face growing slightly predatory.  I was reminded that she was a goddess not just of battle, but of warfare.  Something like this, explaining the weaknesses and flaws of a foe, was her meat and potatoes, something she was both good at and relished.

    ¡°The boy that they took was the prey of the Hunt, their quarry.  By marking him as such he could never escape them, they would always find him, in time.  When you joined his side you were likewise marked, and they could have hunted you with ease should you have escaped.  However, that mark also comes with some protection.  Yes, they could have killed you, but your death was not what Herne sought, and the same was true of the other demigod.  They wished to take you, and that was where your protection came in.

    ¡°The Wild Hunt cannot take a quarry until they have given up.  They can kill them without consequence, but an unbroken quarry cannot be taken.  These are some of the rules that the Hunt must abide by, they can no more be ignored by them than a bird may breath beneath the ocean.¡±  ¡°Without the blessings of my uncle, at least.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why Herne was going on like that.  He was trying to hurt us, to make us give up.  Too bad we were too stubborn.¡±

    I remembered Herne telling us how futile resistance was, how giving up was just an inevitability.  I also remembered how he¡¯d hit us both after the bear bit down on him.  if he¡¯d broken out an attack like that to start with . . .  Yeah, we wouldn¡¯t have handled it well at all.

    ¡°Okay, so why were they after that kid?  They were hunting him before we got there before the scabbard was found.  Do you have any idea why?¡±

    ¡°I am . . . uncertain,¡± Athena admitted. ¡°The Wild Hunt has been known to seek out powerful artefacts and specimens in the past.  Though the reasons have never been made clear.¡±

    ¡°¡®Specimens¡¯?¡±

    That didn¡¯t sound good.

    ¡°The Hunt has chased strange quarries.  Their normal hunts are in pursuit of those who insult them or those who have somehow earned their ire.   Sometimes they seek challenging prey simply to enjoy the thrill of the chase and the battle that follows.  However, sometimes they pick . . . strange targets.  A sorcerer hermit that has never done anything to them, a Kirin from the Far East, a Nightmare from the Dreaming, targets they should not have any interest in yet they hunt anyway.  Even stranger is that there is no sign of them after they are caught, no trophies, no weapons made of their reagents.  The same is true of the artefacts they find or steal, they are never seen again.¡±

    ¡°Actually, how were they able to take him?  I didn¡¯t see him give up, just get knocked out.¡±

    The goddess frowned at my question, slightly taken aback.

    ¡°That is a good question.  It could be that the boy gave up before losing consciousness, but I do not think so.  More likely the boy was taken not as a quarry, but as a prize.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    ¡°It means that he still possesses a certain level of protection.  Yes, the Hunt can kill him at any time they wish, but because he is not a quarry they have hunted down yet he is not yet theirs.  They do not have full ownership of him, so they cannot yet sell him into the slavery they threatened.¡±

    Now that was some good news, maybe we could use that.  My thoughts must have shown on my face though, because Athena shook her head and then continued.

    ¡°Do not think too much of it, Adam.  Should they fail to treat with us and gain what they want then there are ways around such a limitation.  They could take him to some distant place, set him free and then hunt him again, bring him down, then repeat the process.  Enough times, enough pain, and enough failure will break any will.¡±

    ¡°Do we at least know why they want the scabbard so much?¡±

    Athena was far too dignified to just shrug, but somehow she managed to convey all the meaning of a shrug without moving even a millimetre.

    ¡°It is one of the great treasures of your nation,¡± She said, waving a hand to emphasise her words. ¡°Save for Excalibur itself and maybe Merlin¡¯s Grimoire I can think of very few artefacts that would be its equal.  To be sure, it is an artefact meant only for Arthur, but it is an artefact that imparts a potent form of immortality.  Even if it cannot be used it would still be of great value to any wizard or sorcerer conducting their own research into escaping mortality.¡±

    Well, that answered that question.  Maybe I should get a bit more focused on Herne and how to fight him.  If Kali hadn¡¯t shown up when she did I would have been screwed.  Actually, why did she only show up then?  The same for the others actually.

    ¡°So, how did they manage to keep you, Kali and the others held up?  Those things I saw were nasty, but I¡¯m pretty sure they weren¡¯t up to keeping any of you pinned down for too long.¡±

    ¡°The Wild Hunt has another power, quite a potent one.  It allows them to preserve an . . . imprint of those that have been a part of it but have since left.  By pouring their unique power into that imprint they can create a temporary copy of that individual, a pseudo spirit possessing many of the abilities of the one they mimic, and something close to their power.  In my case, I was delayed by facing a simulacra of Diana, Roman goddess of the Chase.  Though not a true goddess she was powerful enough to delay me until I was able to finally damage her enough to break her vessel and disperse the power that made her up.¡±

    That sounded almost as broken as the whole ¡®everyone in the Hunt is immortal¡¯ thing!  Sure, they weren¡¯t real gods, but being able to create imitation gods whenever they wanted sounded just unfair!  Where was the customer service contact number?  I wanted to protest uneven game development!

    ¡°What about the others, who¡¯d they have to deal with?¡±

    ¡°Kali faced Wotan, a version of Odin famed for his mastery of magical runes.  A troublesome foe for a physical fighter such as Kali, especially since unleashing her powers of destruction would have caused widespread devastation about her.  Saint Joan found herself facing a simulacra of your nation¡¯s King Arthur, though a weakened one without his knights, his sword or his scabbard.  As for Hadriel . . . did you know that for a short time, Satan himself was the leader of the Wild Hunt?  Though his simulacra is only a fraction of the strength of the true ruler of Hell it was still a formidable challenge for an angel.¡±

    Okay, I think my brain kind of froze up on that last one.

    ¡°What, Satan Satan?  The guy that used to be an angel and now rules over Hell, that Satan?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but let us wait for a day less filled with turmoil to educate you on that matter.  It shall be a long lesson.¡±

    Yeah, I could see where she was coming from.  Something told me that getting that explanation would lead to a whole rabbit hole of other subjects.  When we had time I really wanted to sit down with the Greek goddess and get some proper lessons about this stuff in, but right now it was better to stick with the more immediate stuff.

    ¡°Okay.  So, back to the Hunt.  If I have to fight Herne again, what can I do better?¡±

    ¡°Herne¡¯s roots rest in his role as the Horned God, a being of nature.  The wild woodland, deep trees, thick brambles, beasts of the wild, those are the roots of his power.  The Hunt¡¯s gifts further empower him.  The wood that serves him will not burn, the beasts he calls can bite through steel, even storms shall spring to obey him.¡±

    ¡°So . . . what can I do?¡±

    Athena smiled, and for the first time, I saw a tiny bit of similarity between her and Kali.  The Olympian might prefer to present herself as more controlled and civilised than the Hindu goddess of destruction, but there was still some trace of the same bloodlust hiding under that mask of sophistication.

    ¡°I believe I have a few suggestions.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°If you don¡¯t follow through on these promises then there shall be consequences!  My clients are fully prepared to take legal action.  I don¡¯t care if God himself comes down from on high, do you understand?!¡±

    Joan watched the man leave and did her best to hold in a frustrated sigh.  She had known that in this modern era faith in the Lord was not as fervent and pervasive as it had been in her mortal days, but being faced with such a small man with seemingly no concerns other than mere money . . . disappointing.

    Since returning to the mortal world Joan had interacted with mainly the faithful, either members of the church or wealthy backers who were true believers.  Even Adam, who was hardly the most devout believer, at least was respectful of the Lord God, and the High Heavens.  Her interactions with the police and those government agents had been no great chore.  Most of them had held duty firmly in their heart, a certain selflessness that she could respect.

    The man who had just left . . . he had left a bad taste in her mouth.  She felt . . . greasy just from interacting with that man.

    ¡°That guy¡¯s a real piece of work.¡±

    The comment came from the middle-aged woman who had been sitting at a desk on the other side of the room.  She was the official go-between that had been assigned to them after the chaos of last night¡¯s events.  Someone who worked with both the local government and the local law enforcement.  Her exact title had been mentioned at some point, but with all that Joan had to deal with it had slipped her mind.

    She did remember her name though.

    ¡°Miss Badeaux?¡± She made the name a question, asking what she meant.

    ¡°That was Theo Nageotte, the main broker for a local businesses group that are seen to be . . . shall we just say a bit shady.  Let me guess, he was here going on about how ¡®vital support structures¡¯ had been destroyed or damaged.  Or maybe he was harping on about ¡®lost revenue streams¡¯ and ¡®disrupted high-level transactions¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Yes . . . almost word for word.¡± The resurrected saint confirmed.

    ¡°Listen, you shouldn¡¯t have to worry too much.  I¡¯ve already read the preliminary reports about the damage at the docks.  Most of the warehouses in that area haven¡¯t been used in months!  The company that owned them went under, then they were bought up on the cheap by one of the groups Nageotte represents.  They own them and the land they¡¯re built on, and they¡¯ve been using them for exactly nothing since they got them.  It¡¯s all a property game, you see?  Buy them cheap, then hang onto them until they rise in price and then sell them, or just have an ¡®accident¡¯ and claim the insurance money.

    ¡°But now, you¡¯ve come along.  France¡¯s patron saint and her friends, fighting the good fight and doing some damage in the process.  Those unused warehouses get smashed up and suddenly they¡¯re vital points of goods transport and storage, and every second they¡¯re damaged it¡¯s costing their poor put-upon owners serious money.  So obviously, that puts you in their debt, and I bet they can think of a whole lot of ways you and your friends can pay them back.¡±

    Joan felt a hot coal of anger begin to kindle in her heart.  She had thought that the man, this Nageotte, was unpleasant, but to hear that he planned to trick and exploit her . . .  Her mind returned to her mortal days, and she remembered some of the courtiers in her king¡¯s court, selfish, faithless and vile.  Men who had looked upon her and not seen potential salvation for their dying cause, but merely another pawn, another asset to exploit, even a young girl to lust after.  This fraudster was of an ilk with them, she was all but sure of it.

    ¡°He shall find little purchase upon myself or my allies, should he wish to play the part of the leech,¡± Joan commented.  The dock and buildings shall be repaired, and I have allies who will cover reasonable costs, and who can invoke the law suitably to prevent mischief.¡±

    ¡°So, even a warrior from Heaven has a few lawyers to back her up?¡± Miss Badeaux offered an amused smile as she spoke. ¡°Guess you got the only decent ones left.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the heavens can always find it in their hearts to accept even the worst of humanity, should they repent.¡±

    Joan offered a smile of her own as she spoke, showing she meant her words in jest.  It would seem that even so long after her own time, jokes about lawyers persisted.  Still, she could not afford to indulge, not when there was so much that needed doing.

    Very well, she had spoken with the local constabulary, the city mayor, representatives of the French Government, and, just now, the legal representative of the owners of the area of the docks where the fight had taken place.  That just left a few minor matters and the press.  That last one would be problematic.  Joan was confident in her ability to deal with face-to-face interactions, but from what little she knew of modern information distribution, sensationalism and even shameless rumour-mongering were worryingly prevalent.

    Still, she could not just ignore it.  Truthfully honoured Athena would have been best suited to dealing with such a meeting.  She had experience, having dealt with the press on many occasions while helping to manage the corporation she and the other Olympians had set up.  The Greek goddess of craft and warfare had been their face, their public image, and she had masterfully dealt with everything from backroom rag reporters to professional journalists from the most prestigious news agencies in the world.

    Unfortunately, she was currently fulfilling her duties as Adam¡¯s teacher, and Joan was not inclined to interrupt.  Though the resurrected saint knew some things about the Wild Hunt she was no authority on the subject.  Her expertise lay in fighting demons and other traditional enemies of the High Heavens.  As a more neutral force, the Hunt had been a less important subject of study.

    Thinking of the Wild Hunt returned her thoughts to the night before.  She should have expected no less from an oracle from the Heavens, but even so, she was surprised by the sheer chaos they had run into.  The Wild Hunt, a powerful demigod, the stolen sheath of King Arthur, any one of them was a good reason to be there, but all three at the same time?  That had the makings of something truly significant.

    Joan remembered her own battle, facing off against a ghostly effigy of Britain¡¯s Once and Future King.  Even though it had been a counterfeit created by the power of the Hunt it had still been powerful, enough so that she had been forced to use her angelic form to finally defeat it.  She was somewhat ashamed that she had been among the last to rejoin her charge¡¯s side.  If she had to face them again she would need to do better.

    Leaned her head back Joan looked up to the ceiling.  This had not been what she had expected when the Almighty had entrusted her with this duty.  She had thought she would be fighting the hordes of hell, seeking out cunning infiltrators, standing between the innocent and the mad ambitions of tyrant gods.  Not . . . paperwork.

    She was brought out of her thoughts as the door to the room opened and a young office worker stumbled in.  Joan had seen him a couple of times already, though she had not been told his name.  his main job seemed to be delivering more paperwork as it arrived, or escorting people who thought they were too important not to speak to her directly.  He seemed to have a permanent expression that somehow made the returned saint think of a rabbit that thought it was being hunted, but could not see the hunter and could only stew in slowly growing worry.

    Right now the man had a distinctly . . . cornered look on his face.  He frantically looked around, then spotted Miss Badeaux, exactly where she had been the last time he had come in to talk to her and make his delivery.

    Joan was already sure that this could only signify more trouble was incoming.  She did not even bother trying to give the two some privacy, she was all too aware that this would become her problem as soon as Miss Badeaux . . .

    ¡°Ma¡¯am . . . there¡¯s a man here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure there is.  There¡¯ve been a lot of men here, for a lot of things.  You¡¯re going to have to be a bit more specific.

    The young office worker¡¯s face reddened in the face of the sarcasm, but he continued on.

    ¡°He¡¯s from the UK!  It¡¯s about the scabbard, the one the angel guy has.  They say it¡¯s Arthur¡¯s¡±

    Oh yes, Joan had been expecting this.  Well, ultimately it was Adam¡¯s decision as to what would be done with the powerful artefact.  She would of course advise him, but she would also offer her full support to any choice he made, even if she disagreed.

    Dealing with this representative would be the first step, but she was sure that it would hardly be a difficult one.

    ¡°They¡¯re looking for whoever has the scabbard, but listen, that¡¯s not the worst part!¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Miss Badeaux asked, sitting up in her chair and taking this a bit more seriously.

    ¡°It¡¯s Sir Lancelot!  They haven¡¯t just sent some guy or official.  It¡¯s the Lancelot!¡±

    Ah, that might be a bit more complicated than Joan had originally expected.

 Chapter 12: Aftermath and Arguements: Part Two

    Chapter 12: Aftermath and Arguements: Part Two

    Lancelot du Lac had not expected to return to France, the country of his birth, so soon.

    Yes, he had expected it to be necessary at some point, but it had barely been four moons since Arthur and his knights had returned.  There had been so much to do in the lands that had once been the Kingdom of Albion, and the returned knights had not been idle.  There had been malicious fey to expel from the lands, a sea serpent to slay, some power-drunk demigods to put in their place and demonic agents to root out.

    The Knight of the Lake had thought that it would be at least a year before he was sent to France and that it would be as part of some diplomatic delegation.  Perhaps it would even as part of some sort of relief force sent to aid in a time of crisis.

    He had not expected the hasty dispatch that had arrived, informing his King that the scabbard had been found in France.  There had been a number of opinions thrown around then.  Some had suggested a mobilisation of a full company of knights to travel to the European mainland and retrieve the lost sheath by any means necessary.  Arthur had been the one to decline such an option.  Though one hundred of his knights would all but guarantee the return of his scabbard, such a militant approach might well damage relations between their two countries.  No nation was happy when another force deployed soldiers on their lands, and a powerful force such as the Knights of the Round Table would only make the matter worse.

    Another suggestion had been to employ stealth, to have certain select knights travel unobserved to France, and then move to steal back the sheath as soon as it was located.  It was a less overt course of action, but again Arthur turned it down, worried about the impact it would have on international relations when discovered.

    That had led to Lancelot¡¯s current deployment.  As one of the knights originally from France, he could return to his birth country with somewhat less resistance than many of his fellows born in Britain, Wales or Scotland.  By coming here openly and without guile it was hoped that diplomacy and cooperation would prevail.

    One of the aircraft of this new era had been able to bring him across the sea in less than an hour.  After he had landed he had managed to persuade the French authorities to aid him in his mission.  Then it had only taken him a few minutes to ride his steed to this port city where his King¡¯s scabbard had been found.

    The communications technology of this time had shown its worth, and only a few calls to the British government and Buckingham Palace from their French counterparts had sorted matters out.  It had been decided that keeping a low profile would be the best approach.  And that meeting the group that had the scabbard quietly was the best way to go.

    So, here he stood, clad in full armour, Arondight sheathed at his side, every inch the knight he was in legend.

    And yet . . . he felt nervous.

    Of course, he knew the source of his worries.  How could he not?  They were burned in his memory.

    Lancelot knew that he was responsible for the fall of Camelot, the death of his King and the breaking of the Round Table.  Yes, Morgan Le Fey and her son Mordred had brought the end about, but Lancelot knew that it was he and Guinevere who had torn out the support that could have let the kingdom survive.  Their affair, the lengths he had gone to in order to save her, the grudges that had been spawned by his actions, and the blood he had spilt, had torn out the heart and the roots of a kingdom that might have otherwise endured for centuries.

    The remainder of his mortal life had been spent trying to atone, living as a monk, wasting away with guilt, giving his life to slay the children of Mordred when they attempted their own conquests.  But it had not been enough, and he had died with regret and guilt gnawing at his heart.  Now, he had a second chance.  The power of his King and the blessings of Avalon had allowed him a new life, one with powers and strength surpassing any he had known in his last life.  Lancelot had sworn to himself that he would not fail again.  He would not let himself fall to his weaknesses, he would not become a weakness for his king, and he would not let Arthur down once more!

    He knew that his failures were forgiven by his fellow knights, but not forgotten.  He knew he was not the most hated of their number, but grudges remained.  If he wanted to move away from that, if he wanted to earn back his good name he had to begin somewhere.  This . . . this was a good place to start.  If he could retrieve the lost scabbard then he would be helping Arthur avoid calamity.  Their legend could be overturned and a new future could be opened up for them.

    So, he could not afford to fail.

    ¡°Is this where the goddesses and the others are?¡± he asked of the man who had guided him here.

    ¡°Ah . . . yes, sir.  They¡¯re just inside.¡±

    Lancelot followed the nervous young man.  The Knight of the Lake could understand that trepidation.  From what he had heard the demigod that now held Arthur¡¯s scabbard was accompanied by two goddesses, an angel and France¡¯s own patron saint returned.  A formidable force and one that Lancelot might have to face should force be the only way to retrieve the sheath.

    Lancelot hoped it would not come to violence.  He was confident in his skills and the powers he had gained, but he was no fool and knew that he also was no match for a true god or angel.  Most likely even the resurrected saint was more than he could handle, but that did not matter to him.  He did not fear death, if he were to fall then Arthur could bring him back to life with the power of Avalon.  No, it was a failure that had to be feared, and if this meeting came to violence it would fail.

    Lancelot knew that diplomacy was not his strong suit, but he had treated with his foes before, had done his king proud.

    ¡°They¡¯re just through here.¡±

    The trip through the building was mercifully short, the people he assumed to be clerks and scribes all making room for him as he approached, whispering about his sword and armour after he had passed.  It was a treatment he was growing used to in this new era.  Here, knights were seen as oddities, rather than being feared and respected.  He supposed that would change with time, but that was not his concern right now.

    Stepping into the indicated room Lancelot looked around, taking in all the occupants at a glance.  The blonde girl in armour must be the Maid of Orleans.  She had a definite feeling of power, something vaguely similar to Arthur.  She was connected to this land, not as a monarch, but something else, something powerful.  In the corner, he could see a beautiful copper-haired woman with red wings hovering a few inches off the floor.  Her immodest garb surprised him, but nothing more.  The tall figure splayed out on the beaten sofa also surprised him, since he could feel the fierce and destructive energies radiating from her, and could tell that what he felt were mere ripples on the surface of an ocean that could drown nations were it unleashed.   This was a god, and she was just . . . sleeping like some tavern wench recovering from a hangover?

    What he did not see was the winged demigod that supposedly had the scabbard.

    ¡°Sir Lancelot?¡±

    Jeanne asked as she stood up from behind her desk.  Idly he noted the quality of the armour she wore, the sword at her hip.  No woman had ever sat at the Round Table as a knight, but he was fairly certain that she would have fitted in well with them.  Perhaps things could work.

    ¡°Jeanne d¡¯Arc.¡± He replied, offering his gauntleted hand as he did so.

    ¡°At this time I am going by Joan of Arc,¡± She replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. ¡°Since my charge is an Englishman.¡±

    He could see the logic in that.  It also served as a good opening to what he really wished to know.

    ¡°And I believe it is your charge I wish to speak to, about his duties as an Englishman as well.¡±

    Joan paused, but to her credit, it was only for a split second.  Her gaze did not waver as her eyes met his

    ¡°Yes.  Adam has your king¡¯s scabbard.  However, the situation is somewhat more complicated than you know.¡±

    ¡°What complications can there be?¡± Lancelot asked, a frown creasing his forehead. ¡°The scabbard is my king¡¯s, it is his by right and providence.  Do you think there is more to it than that?¡±

    ¡°I shall let Adam be the one to answer you.¡± She replied, nodding to the door as it opened.

    The first figure to step through had to duck her head slightly to enter.  Though she was uncommonly tall for a woman she wore it well, as she did the robes of ancient Greece, a red shawl over them.  She was unquestionably beautiful, perhaps even more so than any woman he had ever seen, but there was something about her that made him think of Morgan le Fay.  There was none of the cruelty or malice that seemed to pervade the immortal sorceress though.  The similarity was in their bearing, in how they seemed to wear the certainty that they knew more than anyone else present, like armour.  This was Athena of the Olympians.  He had to admit that she looked far more the part of a god than her sleeping companion did.

    Still, as attention seizing as she was his eyes locked on to the figure that followed her.

    Tall and muscular, with caramel-dark skin, snow-white hair, eyes the colour of molten gold and large white wings folded behind him. All told a striking figure that managed to stun the knight for a moment.  Damn, even Agravain, regarded as the most handsome knight of the Round Table, was overshadowed.

    But even so, as soon as Lancelot saw the wrapped object held in the winged man¡¯s arms it took all of his attention.

    ¡°Ah, Adam.  Allow me to introduce Sir Lancelot du Lac, Knight of the Round Table and here on behalf of King Arthur.¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The young man met his eyes and what Lancelot saw was not iron resolve or unwavering dedication, it was not regal authority or charismatic appeal either.  The young man seemed somewhat nervous but kept his spine straight and his gaze did not waver.  Commendable, yet hardly rare, such should be expected of even the weakest knave seeking to become a knight, something Lancelot had seen before in the hundreds.  This Adam had something different, a weight about him that subtly pulled on those around him.  Lancelot could only spot it due to the years he had spent in Arthur¡¯s presence, and even so, there were differences.

    ¡°Sir Lancelot!?¡± The demigod¡¯s surprised tone was more than a bit at odds with his appearance, but to his credit he managed to recover quickly, offering his hand to the knight. ¡°It is an honour.¡±

    Shaking the hand the knight nodded in return but decided to waste no time in stating his reason for being here.

    ¡°It is my honour to meet both yourself and your distinguished company.  However, I shall not my mince words.  I am here for the scabbard.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±

    That was somewhat less than encouraging.  The Knight of the Lake had been hoping that the demigod would simply return the scabbard immediately.  Still, it was a powerful artefact, and these were uncertain times.

    ¡°If you are thinking of keeping the scabbard in order to protect yourself I suggest you abandon such thoughts,¡± he stated, hoping to dissuade any thoughts of greed before they could lead to conflict. ¡°The sheath is powerful, but it was made for Arthur, it shall protect none other.  All it shall do is mark you for those that seek it for their own ends.¡±

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not that,¡± Adam held up a hand as though to signal an oncoming horse to stop. ¡°I get that King Arthur needs this back, and I want to make sure he gets it!  But there¡¯s a problem here!¡±

    That was not what Lancelot wished to hear, but the affirmation that the demigod wished the scabbard returned to its rightful owner kept him from making any aggressive moves.  Well, that and the four powerful women about the room who would not hesitate to take his side.

    ¡°Have you heard about what happened last night?¡±

    ¡°I know there was some kind of battle, though there are few details upon who and why.  During the battle, you retrieved the scabbard, and your foes were driven away.¡±

    A look of discomfort passed across Adam¡¯s face as he shook his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s worse than that.  Last night we were up against the Wild Hunt, they were there hunting some demigod, things got crazy and I had to side with him to take on Herne.  We were able to stalemate him for a bit, but only because he was holding back to try to break us.¡±

    Impressive.  Under other circumstances Lancelot might have believed that the winged demigod was boasting, since facing the Leader of the Hunt, even if he was holding back, was a feat even Arthur would have regarded as significant.  However Adam was not boasting, he was just saying it as a prelude, before something more important.

    ¡°The scabbard just turned up during the fight.  Don¡¯t ask me where it came from, because I¡¯ve got no idea.  Once it did though it was all Herne cared about.  He started fighting harder, but because he was so focused on the scabbard we were able to match him.  In the end, we were able to hold out until Kali arrived, then the others, but even though I had the sheath Herne had the demigod who¡¯d been helping me.¡±

    Ah, the pieces were falling into place.

    ¡°We . . . we couldn¡¯t stop Herne, if we made a move he¡¯d have killed the demigod.  So he left, and the Hunt took the demigod with them.  Herne offered a deal, the demigod for the scabbard.¡±

    And the final piece completed the picture, and it was not a picture Lancelot liked.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I looked at Lancelot and did my best not to fidget.

    This . . . this wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d been ready for.  This was Sir Lancelot, the guy my dad used to read me stories about when I was little.  Sure, they¡¯d been the kidified versions of the stories, leaving out the infidelity and times when he killed his fellow Knights of the Round Table, but they¡¯d still stuck with me.  I remembered stories of Sir Lancelot joining jousting tournaments in disguise, of him slaying a dragon, of him saving Guinevere when she was kidnapped.  He¡¯d been one of my childhood heroes, and now he was in front of me.

    The man looked every bit the noble knight I would have expected him to be.  Tall, good-looking, light brown hair and dark blue eyes.  He wore white armour with red enamelled edging, a sheathed sword at his side and no helmet.  If I had to guess his age I wouldn¡¯t have put him as a day over thirty-five, he was a man in his prime, with an aura of maturity and experience around him.  he really could have just stepped out of one of those old books from my childhood, all he lacked was a white horse, and maybe some damsel he¡¯d just saved.

    When I¡¯d watched Arthur and his knights come back I¡¯d been thrilled.  These had been my childhood heroes, and they were back to protect me and my country when everything had been going to hell.  When I¡¯d found out I was a demigod part of me had hoped I could meet them, fight alongside them, maybe even somehow become a knight.

    And this was how I was meeting Arthur and his knights, by denying them.

    ¡°Young man,¡± Lancelot began, his voice gentle but somehow also clanging with authority. ¡°I understand that you wish to aid your ally, but the Scabbard must be returned to Arthur.  He is the greatest protection his kingdom possesses, and the Scabbard is an important part of his power.  It must be returned.¡±

    ¡°I get that!¡± I replied, some of my frustration with the situation bleeding into my tone. ¡°Herne . . . he said that if I didn¡¯t meet him they were going to sell that other demigod like cattle, as a slave or to some reagent chop shop!¡±

    Lancelot grimaced, it wasn¡¯t as though he wasn¡¯t listening, I could tell that much at least.  He wasn¡¯t just focusing on his mission or his duty or whatever, he was taking in what I was saying and acknowledging it.  The problem was that it wasn¡¯t enough.

    ¡°Adam, I understand.  You want to save your ally from this terrible fate, and that is to your credit.  I shall even stand by you, I shall aid you in seeking to save them.  But the scabbard must be returned!  Perhaps one of your allies could take the scabbard to Arthur, and once I know it is with him you shall have my full support.  Perhaps the angel?  They are most swift fliers.¡±

    That was reasonable, that was him trying to meet me in the middle.  The problem was that it wasn¡¯t enough!

    ¡°Look, I know how important Arthur is!  I get how much the UK depends on him!¡± I was doing my best not to let my volume go up with my frustrations, but it wasn¡¯t easy. ¡°My parents are back there!  My friends!  Hell, my boss and my coworkers are there, do you think I want any of them to get hurt because Arthur can¡¯t help them?!  What if the Hunt senses the scabbard flying away, huh?  What then?  Maybe they don¡¯t show up.  Maybe they vanish and take him with them to sell to some bastard in the ass end of Ethiopia!  I can¡¯t take that risk!¡±

    ¡°WHY?!¡±

    The knight didn¡¯t try to keep quiet, instead, his question came out in an almost-shout.  It drew attention, people walking past our room visibly slowing, trying to listen in through the sound-dampening glass and plaster.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s a KID!¡±

    I did my best not to shout, but by the end, I was having trouble.  It did manage to make Lancelot pause because he didn¡¯t have an immediate reply, and that gave me a chance to plough on.

    ¡°He¡¯s just a kid.  He can¡¯t have been more than twelve, okay?  But he together with me, we took Herne on, and in the end, I couldn¡¯t stop him being taken.

    ¡°I know it¡¯s stupid!  I know that the basic maths of lives says I should be giving you back the scabbard and then trying to save the kid without it.  But . . . if I do that then the odds go down, okay?  That kid, I only saw him for less than a minute as himself, and I¡¯ve never talked with him, but I can¡¯t just let him down.  I know I¡¯m not making too much sense.  Hell, I know I¡¯m repeating myself, but I¡¯m not going to let the Hunt just take him!  And I need the scabbard to make sure they bring him to me!  So no, I can¡¯t give it to you!¡±

    That . . . had been more than I¡¯d been planning to say.  I¡¯d started, and then I¡¯d ended up going into full rant mode, the words just spilling out.  I wasn¡¯t even too sure just why it was so important to me to rescue this demigod.  Yes, he¡¯d been my ally.  Yes, he was a kid.  Yes, he was powerful.  But that didn¡¯t explain it.  Still, I just felt completely certain that I had to save that kid, and letting the scabbard go would make that way more difficult.

    ¡°I . . . understand,¡± Lancelot said slowly. ¡°Your desire to save him is commendable.  However the scabbard-¡±

    ¡°Hey! Round table-wear guy!  Adam¡¯s already said he¡¯s not giving the shiny sheath back, so drop it!  Or are we going to have a problem?¡±

    Kali broke in as she sat up, cutting Lancelot off.  There was nothing overtly different about her, she was relaxed, maybe even half asleep, but somehow it suddenly felt as though knives were hanging in the air, ready to slash.  The knight certainly felt it, because I could see his hand tense on where I rested on his sword¡¯s pommel.

    ¡°Honoured Kali, I do not believe there is any need for unpleasantness,¡± Joan spoke up, coming out from around her desk. ¡°Sir Lancelot, I fully understand your desire to stand by your duty.  But we stand by Adam, each of us for our own reasons, but all of us are firmly behind him.  If he does not wish to relinquish the scabbard yet, then we shall stand behind that as well.¡±

    Well, that was the politest threat I¡¯d ever heard.  Still, it was a threat, and there wasn¡¯t anyone in the room who didn¡¯t recognise it.

    ¡°That scabbard is Arthur¡¯s¡±

    Lancelot wasn¡¯t shouting this time, instead, his voice was tight and controlled.

    ¡°And I will return it.¡± I insisted. ¡°But I¡¯ve got to save the kid first, and if I don¡¯t have the scabbard then I might not be able to, okay?¡±

    ¡°I think it is very far from ¡®okay¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Look, Arthur lost it!¡± My tone hardened as I decided to just tell him how things were going to be. ¡°It got stolen, and I¡¯m the one that¡¯s got it now.  I took it from Herne, and he took it from the kid, who took it from the thieves.  Spoils of war, or whatever you want to call it.  It¡¯s mine right now and I¡¯m going to use it to save that kid.  Yeah, I know it¡¯s reckless, but I¡¯m not leaving him to be sold like a side of beef, understand?¡±

    Without meaning to, my wings spread slightly behind me, an armchair sliding across the floor as one wing pressed up against it, moving the heavy furniture easily.  On my other side, one of the sword-like feathers dug into a metal desk, screeching and filling the room as the metal resisted for a moment, then gave way.  I hadn¡¯t meant to do it, but I couldn¡¯t deny that the effect was . . . impressive.  I knew I would have been intimidated by it.

    ¡°That scabbard will return to Arthur!¡±

    Lancelot was harder to intimidate than I was though.  His eyes did keep flicking to the others though.  Maybe if it had just been me he¡¯d have been willing to resort to violence, but given my backup he wasn¡¯t ready to start a fight he couldn¡¯t win.  Still, I could offer something.

    ¡°Yeah, it will,¡± I agreed. ¡°The scabbard will be returned, but I¡¯m saving that kid first.  If you don¡¯t want it to get lost, then help me!¡±

    That last part was added on impulse, but it felt right.  For his part my words seemed to make the knight hesitate for a moment, then his eyes met mine.

    ¡°If the scabbard is lost because of this folly, are you prepared to face the consequences?¡±

    ¡°Hell no!¡± I replied. ¡°But that just means I¡¯m going to have to do this right since I don¡¯t want to.¡±

    That caused his lips to twitch for a moment, almost forming a smile.

    ¡°An interesting response,¡± He paused, and then openly looked about the room, then just as openly removed his hand from his sword. ¡°I am no fool.  I cannot take the scabbard from you by force, not with all these allies you have accrued.  But I shall not shirk my duty either.¡±

    Then he moved!  We hadn¡¯t been separated by any great space, just two or three steps, but suddenly he was right there in front of me, one gauntleted hand resting on my wrist, not too far from the hand that held the scabbard.  What was even more disturbing was that it wasn¡¯t that Lancelot was fast, he didn¡¯t cross the distance in some burst of speed.  Instead, it was like . . . the only way I could describe it was as pure skill.  He timed his movements with my eyes moving off him for an instant and then with me blinking.  With just that tiny opening he was able to move so smoothly and silently, even in full plate armour, and reach me before I could react.

    Around me, the others reacted too, to varying degrees.  Kali was off the sofa and on her feet in a single liquid movement that would have made a panther proud.  Joan stepped forward, her own hand falling to the sword at her side and her face growing stony.  Hadriel¡¯s arms uncrossed, and suddenly her empty hands were holding those enormous swords of hers.  Athena was the least reactive, simply taking a step to the side, her arms relaxed, but her left eyebrow slightly raised.  Nobody actually moved against him, but the tension crackled through the room like the pressure before a storm.

    ¡°I shall be going with you.  I shall be there to make sure the scabbard is returned to my king.  Am I understood?¡±

    I just nodded, not trusting my voice at that moment.

    ¡°Good,¡± Lancelot then stepped back, his face breaking into a sunny smile completely at odds with his earlier grimness. ¡°So, what is the plan?¡±

    Ah, right.  I did need one of those, didn¡¯t I?

 Chapter 13: Preparations and Resolve: Part One

    Chapter 13:  Preparations and Resolve: Part One

    ¡°Oh, Adam, you really are coming along nicely.¡±

    Emma commented as she picked her way through the rubble of what had once been dockside warehouses.  The shadows were growing longer as the sun went down, casting much of the docks into an early gloom.  She¡¯d have gotten here earlier, but there¡¯d simply been too much activity here, and she¡¯d had to wait until things calmed down.  Now, in the early evening, she was finally able to sneak into the site of the fight between the Hunt and Adam and his allies.

    The destruction was not as widespread as it could have been, there was at least more of the docks still standing than not, but where it had taken place it was terrifyingly thorough.  Buildings that had been built to house huge stocks of goods were just gone.  In some places they were burnt, in others, they were just flattened, others were still standing, but only due to being propped up by the massive spikes and growths of wood and metal that had speared up through them.

    And that was just where Adam had been fighting.  The other places . . . well, there was a warehouse where half was just missing, erased from existence by the power of Destruction.  Another warehouse had been sliced apart, as though by the blades of a giant.  Several more had been reduced to smoking ruins, fire and lightning and a running battle having wrecked a whole swathe of the docks.  One of those docks had also been destroyed, metal and concrete slashed and blasted apart until it was just rubble sliding into the sea.

    She hadn¡¯t been sure what the young demigod would be facing, but she¡¯d thought he¡¯d been ready for it.  Given his companions, he should have been able to outgun just about any enemies he met.  The big players who¡¯d made it back to the mortal plane weren¡¯t making any overt moves in this part of the world.  France had suffered the attack on Lyon, but had otherwise been peaceful.  The UK was mostly fine, the theft of Arthur¡¯s scabbard being the only exception.  Emma hadn¡¯t been expecting . . . this!

    The Wild Hunt, a powerful demigod, and the scabbard, that all made for a pretty volatile mix, and then Adam and his posse had sparked off the brew to go up in one big explosion.  Was it any wonder this place was such a mess?

    From a scouting trip to a clash with a power like the Hunt.  Yeah, that was almost a textbook example of things escalating out of hand.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see what  I can do here.¡±

    She muttered to herself as she picked through the rubble, occasionally glancing down at a charm she held in one hand.  It wasn¡¯t anything too impressive, looking more like an ugly knot of plant roots with some beads and string mixed in than anything else.  Like many of her creations, it just used common reagents, things that could easily be found in any small town and purchased with pocket change.  Still, it worked and that was the important part.

    ¡°Okay, Adam would have been fighting around here.  So . . .¡±

    She murmured to herself as she waved the charm back and forth.  After a few minutes, she felt a small stab of pain in her palm.  Looking down she saw that one of the roots that made up her little artefact had stabbed into the skin near her fingers.  The root had pushed its way in and was sucking up a tiny bit of blood.

    Blood magic, an old magic that had lots of downsides, but was reliable and robust.  Most importantly, it was a quiet magic, something she desperately needed.

    ¡°Okay, what do we have here?¡±

    The pavement her charm had led her to was discoloured, melted by intense heat, torn up by supernatural roots, then melted again.  Still . . .

    Reaching into a pocket Emma pulled out a thin blade and carefully scraped it across the concrete.  The edge of the knife caught on something, and with great care, Emma worked the blade under it and lifted it.  There was resistance, but with a bit of effort, she was able to lever up a thin and flat little slab of . . . metal?

    ¡°And what are you?¡±

    Emma murmured to herself as she brought the ugly charm closer to it.  To her surprise, the charm gently trembled in her hand.  Something that should have been impossible, because the charm was meant to help her find blood, not metal.  Frowning she focused her magic on the small slab, and to her surprise felt remnants of vitality and magic within it.  they were fading, but they were there, and she swiftly channelled power into it, preserving the flagging energies within.  When she did so she felt the metal heat up, not quite to burning hot, but enough that mortals would have found it uncomfortable to touch.

    Not what she¡¯d come here looking for, but it could be of use.  Emma carefully wrapped her find in a silk scarf and stowed it in another pocket, then returned to her task.

    ¡°HEY! WHO¡¯S THERE!¡±

    Emma did her best not to grimace as the shout was accompanied by the sound of running footsteps.  The magic she was using to conceal herself was effective against the vast majority of people, but now and then there was that one mortal with a touch of something in his bloodline that let them see past the glamour.  And one just happened to be watching this battleground, just her luck.

    Turning she saw a man in some sort of uniform approaching her.  She couldn¡¯t tell if he was a security guard or a cop, but he looked like someone official who wasn¡¯t happy to see her.

    Well, she could understand that.  This area had been cordoned off with police tape, and there had been cops on watch to keep people out.  It was hardly a subtle hint, so anyone found in here had to know they weren¡¯t meant to be there.

    ¡°Okay, you¡¯re coming with me!¡± The man, fairly young and using his impressive height to try and project authority, came up to her and seized her by the wrist. ¡°Do you know how much trouble you¡¯re in?  They¡¯re going to throw the book at-¡±

    His words were cut off as he suddenly blinked and stared off into space, his eyes glassy.  Had anyone with any mystic senses, other than Emma, been present they would have seen a line of purplish pink mist come out of the hooded woman¡¯s left hand and then swirl around the guard''s form.  After a couple of seconds, it seemed to find his face and poured into him through his mouth and nose.

    ¡°Okay, I want you to forget ever seeing me.  Just go back to whatever you were doing, and if anyone asks you what you did say that you thought you saw someone, but you were just jumping at shadows, got it?¡±

    The man nodded like an automaton.

    ¡°Good.  Oh, and if you see me again around here, ignore me. As far as you¡¯re concerned I¡¯m invisible, understand?¡±

    Another nod.

    ¡°Good.  Now, off you go.¡±

    The man nodded again, then blinked, then blinked again.  As though waking from a daydream he looked around, his eyes passing over Emma as though she weren¡¯t even there, before giving himself a shake and walking off, muttering about jumping at shadows.

    Emma waited until he was gone, then made her way behind a half-collapsed warehouse, being careful to keep to the shadows as she did so.  That had been far too close.  She¡¯d been lucky that the mortal had the magic resistance of a goldfish, otherwise, things could have become messy.  Using controlling spells like the charm she¡¯d used was easy, but she was trying to avoid them.  Sure, they made life simpler for her, but she doubted Adam would be too thrilled if he found out she was making liberal use of mind control.  And since all her plans hinged on him giving her the benefit of the doubt, anything that jeopardised his opinion of her had to be avoided like the plague.

    Well, once or twice might be forgiven, especially if they helped her avoid violence.  But that had to be it, she couldn¡¯t afford to push this too far.

    Still, she couldn¡¯t let herself get distracted.  Focusing her will back on the ugly charm Emma returned to her self-imposed task.

    It took her almost half an hour, but in the end, her patience paid off.  On the wall of one damaged warehouse, she found what she was looking for, a smear of red that was already dried and dark.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll admit that¡¯s impressive,¡± she commented as she carefully scraped the dried blood off into a small glass vial she¡¯d prepared. ¡°Taking on Herne and his Hunt, and this is the only blood you shed.  You¡¯re definitely getting stronger, Adam.¡±

    Making sure that none of Adam¡¯s blood was left behind had been a task Emma had set herself.  The demigod was getting more powerful at an impressive rate, but he still wasn¡¯t strong enough to ward off more subtle attacks, such as curses or hexes.  Until then Emma was going to do her best to stop any more of his blood from falling into potentially hostile hands.

    In the vial, the scraped-away blood slowly returned to a liquid form, the magic runes scratched onto the glass doing their work.  It was only a few drops, but hopefully, it would be enough for her plans.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    As the sun dipped below the horizon night filled a clearing in a forest.  It was no great forest, though once it might have been.  The development of the nearby town had led to much of it being cleared away over the years, leaving it a shadow of its former self.  Still, this clearing and the surrounding woods had been left alone, seen as a sort of unofficial heritage site.

    When Rome had been the dominant power in the world this clearing had been used as the site of ancient druidic rituals.  In later times it had been the site of weddings and festivals.  Local folklore even talked of faeries playing in the flowers that grew there during midsummer.  It might not have been famous, or scenic enough to draw tourists, but it was a site soaked in history.

    As the sky darkened and the stars came out the clearing became illuminated with yellowish-green fire, figures stepping out of the shadows.  At first, it was only one or two, but more and more appeared until the clearing was almost filled.  The last to appear was a tall figure on a horse, a small unconscious form slung over the steed¡¯s back behind the rider.  At the sight, a low murmur ran through the assembled hunters, a pleased and hungry sound.

    ¡°So, he has been caught,¡± spoke a hulking centaur as he stepped forward, his form so bulky that he matched Herne and his horse combined. ¡°A challenging prey, but a satisfying hunt.¡±

    ¡°Not so,¡± The Horned Hunter replied. ¡°The boy is captured, but not taken.  His will has not been broken.¡±

    The misshapen face of the centaur twisted into a scowl that belonged in the worst of nightmares.

    ¡°What are you doing?  If he has not been broken then we have no claim upon him!  He shall be denied to us if we hold him without his submission, you know this!¡±

    That was the law of the Hunt.  Only what had been broken could be taken.  If they claimed an unbroken prey, held them captive or otherwise retrained them, for more than three days then that prey would be marked, untouchable by the Hunt and forever denied them.

    ¡°Another prize showed itself, one even more tempting.  The sheath of the Blessed King of Albion.¡±

    Once again, the surrounding members of the Hunt stirred, all of them knowing what a treasure Arthur¡¯s Scabbard was.

    ¡°Then why is the boy here, and not the sheath?¡±

    ¡°The boy found allies, another demigod, a powerful one.  One who had allies of his own.  When the scabbard was found we struggled for it, I was able to capture the boy, but the other demigod claimed the scabbard.  I would have fought him for it, but his allies arrived and victory became far from certain.  The boy was taken as a bargaining piece, and an offer was made to exchange him for the scabbard.¡±

    The frightening frown on the centaur¡¯s face grew even more thunderous, and one of his hooves pawed at the grass beneath them, digging into the soft loam.

    ¡°A poor exchange.  Why would he give up such a prize for so little?¡±

    ¡°Because both this boy and the other demigod have the makings of heroes,¡± Herne replied, his voice serious and a slight smile on his face. ¡°That demigod shall not abandon one that fought at his side.  He shall try to save him and in doing so he will bring the scabbard to us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and bring his allies as well,¡± the centaur tilted his head, his posture less restless and more curious. ¡°They must have been formidable for you not to fight them.  Who were they?¡±

    ¡°An angel, a saint, Athena and Kali.¡±

    At Herne¡¯s reply the clearing went silent, the hunters present freezing like statues.

    ¡°Athena?¡± the half-man half-horse asked. ¡°And Kali?  The Black One?  This demigod . . . who is he?¡±

    There was no disguising the shock in his words, though that was hardly a surprise.  Athena was one of the elite of the Olympians, if not for her raw power then for her sheer competence. Kali, on the other hand . . . she was a god that gods feared, what more needed to be said?

    ¡°And what is to keep them from simply taking the boy?  With such might behind him . . . we are strong, the Hunt gives us immortality, but I am not confident that we can face such foes in pitched combat.¡±

    It was the truth.  In the last battle, Herne had been able to send some of the most powerful effigies the hunt could form to stall the demigod¡¯s allies.  It had worked because they had been divided at the time by their search, and the immortality the effigies had enjoyed made them maddeningly difficult to put down.  He¡¯d hoped to be able to break the demigod they had been hunting in short order and leave without having to directly face any of the interlopers.  In that, he had failed.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    When he faced the winged demigod once more Herne would not have the chance to separate him from his allies, not unless all of them were catastrophically stupid, and given they had wise Athena on their side the chances of that were vanishingly small.

    ¡°I am aware.  I have called the others.  The Hunt shall stand united, Skliros.  This opportunity cannot be lost.¡±

    The centaur shifted at the use of his name.  It was a reminder of his past that he did not like to hear, but it was Herne¡¯s right to use.

    ¡°So . . . they are coming?¡±

    ¡°Loraxis, Old Hefnd, even Ravananaer, they are all coming.¡±

    Whispers spread through the clearing like blood in water.  Those names were not names to be easily said.  They were beings of power who belonged in the Wild Hunt.  Who belonged to the Wild Hunt.  Each of them had their own reasons, but all of them had bound themselves irrevocably to the Hunt.

    Ravananaer, grandson of the great Hindu Rakshasa prince and the enemy of Vishnu.  He was powerful but cautious and had fallen in with the Wild Hunt because he loved their nomadic lifestyle.  Old Hefnd was something of a mystery in that no one knew her origins, but her mastery of ice and fire was terrifying.  As for Loraxis . . . well, none would be more motivated to see success in this venture than him.  he would see this done, with blood and fire.

    The Wild Hunt was not a fragmented power, but sometimes individual members, or even small groups, would leave for a short time.  Sometimes it was just to rest, to indulge themselves, or to fulfil other responsibilities.  This was the privilege of the strong though, so calling in those who had taken their leave . . .

    ¡°You are taking a risk.¡± Skliros declared, gazing at Herne with unsettled eyes.

    ¡°We face goddesses and agents of the High Heavens,¡± the Horned Hunter replied. ¡°If we wish to succeed then we shall need the full strength of the Hunt.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Couldn¡¯t save him!  Couldn¡¯t succeed!  Not powerful enough!  Not good enough!

    No!  I tried!  I¡¯d done my best!

    Too slow!  Too weak!  Too Stupid!

    I hadn¡¯t seen any other ways!

    Worthless!  A mistake! A destined failure!

    I¡¯d done good!  I¡¯d helped Etienne, even if he hadn¡¯t come with me I¡¯d save him!  I¡¯d do more in the future, I just needed the chance!

    So delusional!  So lost in his own importance!  Unaware of his flaws!  His inferiority!  His inadequacy!

    NO!  I . . . I knew I wasn¡¯t perfect!  I knew I had more to work on!  But I was working on it!  I was trying to be better!

    Worthless!  Ignorant!  Broken and flawed from the start!  Destined to fail because he was never capable of success from the start!

    ¡°NO!¡±

    I came awake with that one word on my lips, my arms flailing to ward off something that wasn¡¯t there.  Beneath me, I heard the sound of tearing cloth and metal as my wings shredded bedsheets, the mattress and the bedframe.  I just had time to blurrily blink into the darkness before the bed gave up the ghost, fell apart and dumped me on the floor as it did so.

    The jolt that came as I hit the floor jarred me to full wakefulness and I stared around at the room, my memories catching up with my situation.

    This was a hotel room.  Not an expensive or fancy hotel, but the room I was in was large enough for me to not have to worry about my wings as long as I paid a bit of attention.  The bed had been a big metal and brass affair, something meant to look old and distinguished, or so I guessed.  Right now it was lying in at least four pieces, as was the mattress.

    Okay, now I was really glad Athena had given me that wallet full of cards.  I did not want have to pay for this out of my savings.

    It would have taken me a bit to struggle out of the ruins of the bed, especially with my wings in the way.  They might look good, but they made wiggling around awkward, to say the least.  So I didn¡¯t try, instead I cheated and just levitated myself straight up, off the chunks of my bed and onto my feet.  I was just touching down when the door burst open to reveal Joan, wearing rather cute yellow pyjamas and holding her sword ready for a fight.

    ¡°Adam!  What is it?¡±

    ¡°I . . . Nothing.  It¡¯s . . . it¡¯s nothing.  I just had a nightmare.¡±

    The sword faded from view as Joan relaxed, stepping into my room and taking in the remains of the bed.

    ¡°That must have been quite the nightmare.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I grimaced. ¡°It was . . .¡±

    I realised I couldn¡¯t remember what the dream had been about.  I could remember the feelings it provoked, helplessness, denial, and guilt, but even that was fading away.

    Forgetting a dream wasn¡¯t anything new, but . . . something felt off.  Still, what could I say?  That I had a bad dream and then forgot it?  Not all that much of a concern.  If I had remembered it, and it had been something important, like a glimpse at the future, then yeah.  As it stood I didn¡¯t really have anything to say.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± I said, gesturing at the remains of the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll have a word with the staff about this.  Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll cover it.¡±

    The reborn saint nodded, but kept looking at me, concerned.

    ¡°Adam, I will not ask you if you are in fine condition, because that would be a foolish question, given your circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed, my tone laden with sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯ve just got to save a demigod from one of the strongest hybrid forces in the world while making sure I keep hold of Arthur¡¯s scabbard.  Totally simple and stress-free.¡±

    ¡°The fact that you are not taking it lightly simply shows that you still have your wits about you, as well as some common sense.  Adam, in the face of this situation you would be a fool not to be concerned.¡±

    Well, wasn¡¯t that the truth?

    ¡°Okay.  Why don¡¯t you head back to bed and I¡¯ll go downstairs and sort this out?¡± I offered.  It was Three in the morning, and I wasn¡¯t going to be getting any more sleep any time soon.  I remembered seeing something about a 24-hour check-in desk, so hopefully there¡¯d be someone I could talk with.  Joan looked like she could use a few more hours, and looked about ready to fall asleep at a moment¡¯s notice.

    Joan just nodded and headed back to her room.  I headed downstairs.

    As it turned out, there was someone at the desk, and they were more than happy to accept a payment to cover the damage to the bed, all parts included.  Honestly, I thought that they might have overcharged me, but I had more money than I could sensibly spend and it was late.  One payment of a thousand euros later, I had one less mess on my plate and was sitting in the small and empty caf¨¦ that that took up part of the hotel¡¯s bottom floor.  I hadn¡¯t wanted to go back to bed, either the remains of the one I¡¯d been on or a new one, and I couldn¡¯t seem to muster up the desire to do much else.

    Still, it hadn¡¯t taken long for boredom to set in, and I¡¯d started looking at the refrigerated display case that took up one end of the caf¨¦.  On closer inspection, I found it was one of those fancy vending machines, where you pay and then you can open one compartment to take out whatever was inside.  There were lots of choices, plates of grapes, muffins, pastries, and even bowls of cold soup.

    Maybe it was a sort of torture, but I¡¯d bought a slice of chocolate cake, set it out on the table before me, and had spent something like half an hour just staring at it.

    I missed food.  I¡¯d been doing my best not to think about it, to focus on developing my powers and getting stronger.  But the truth was that I still felt like there was a hole in my life.  Eating was important, not just because you needed food to live.  Eating reduced stress, and if you ate something nice then it put you in a good mood.  More than that, humans were social creatures, eating or drinking together were important social acts, things that reinforced bonds or gave opportunities to form new ones.  Losing food or drink in any form had cut me off from that.

    So, I just stared at the cake in front of me.  I could smell it just fine, the sweet chocolate, the buttery scent of the sponge, even the slight tang of the cheap oil used to make it.  My senses were so sharp, and yet I knew that if I put it in my mouth I would taste nothing.  For a moment I was reminded of Tantalus, a Greek king that managed to seriously offend Zeus, enough that he was sentenced to eternal torment by hunger and thirst with food and water just out of reach.  I might not be hungry or thirsty, but I was surrounded by food and drink I couldn¡¯t enjoy.

    Honestly, there was something vaguely masochistic about just staring at the slice of cake, but at the same time, it helped me enjoy memories that I hadn¡¯t given much thought to.  A slice of chocolate fudge cake, still slightly warm, the cold of the fudge contrasting nicely.  The burn of a nice curry, the soft chew of rice along with it.  Christmas turkey, swimming in gravy, with roast potatoes and sprouts on the side.  Something as simple as eggs and bacon in the morning, with toast and baked beans.

    It was only when I felt a line of drool start to slip between my lips that I realised just how lost I was in my thoughts.

    Damn!  I hadn¡¯t had it that bad since the first couple of days after I found out about my seal on Gluttony.

    Trying to distract myself I reached down to the only thing I¡¯d brought out of my room aside from the clothes I¡¯d thrown on, namely my bag of holding.  That was all I had to take with me though.  Everything else, my gifts, my spoils, my spare clothes and even the scabbard, were all in there.

    I pulled out the cause of many of my worries, the legendary sheath of Excalibur.  I set it down on the table, it''s only company a lone slice of cake, I unwrapped it and for the first time actually took more than a fleeting look at it.  Now, I could finally take the time to look it over properly.

    Beautiful, that was the first word that came to mind.  The whole thing was cast in some sort of golden material, something I could tell was much stronger than even the best steel could ever hope to be.  I wasn¡¯t sure how I knew, but I knew it with bone-deep certainty as soon as I laid eyes on it. The sheath had a delicate and intricate vine-like design engraved on it, a combination of worked metal and enamel combining to produce an almost organic design.  Dozens of tiny rubies were worked into the finished product, standing out like berries on the vine.  The end result was a real work of art, something that I could see hanging up in a museum for thousands to stare at every day, safe behind the kind of security that should protect the Monalisa.

    I spent a few minutes just admiring it, turning it over to see if the two sides differed, finding that they followed a similar design.  I was no expert, but even so, I could see the sheer skill and genius that had gone into its creation, and soon found myself lost in appreciating it.

    After a while a small detail caught my eye.  I noticed that what I thought was just a border at the edge of the scabbard was something else entirely.  By looking closer I saw that the border was actually a line of runes running along the whole edge of the sheath, and what was even stranger was that they were slightly familiar.  Even though there were clear differences the runes strongly resembled the Enochian inscriptions Joan had shown me while getting ready for my Awakening ceremony.  Of course, this time when I looked at them my brain didn¡¯t try to eat itself, maybe because these runes were different or maybe because I¡¯d awakened my power.

    Whatever the case, I found myself drawn to the inscriptions, carefully observing every one of them, even if I had no idea what they meant.  To my surprise I found them all sticking in my mind, just sitting in my memory, waiting to be called up.  I wasn¡¯t sure why they were so easy to memorise, but I was grateful for it.  Once I had them all committed to memory I turned the scabbard over again, this time looking at the metal that made it up.

    It looked . . . familiar, something I¡¯d seen before.  It took me a few moments before I excitedly reached into the bag of holding again.   What I pulled out was the orb of metal that Li had given me at the request of N¨¹wa, one of my divine ancestors.  Joan didn¡¯t know what it was, but holding it next to the scabbard . . . yeah, I could see the similarities.

    Well, wasn¡¯t that interesting?  The value of the scabbard had been hammered into my head over the last day, so having some of the same material it was made of made me understand the value my gift far better.  Of course, it wasn¡¯t like the raw metal was as important as the forged sheath.  It didn¡¯t take a genius to know there was more to it, spells that had been worked in, the runes inscribed, probably things I couldn¡¯t see or even guess at.  It wasn¡¯t like I could just hammer the orb into the same shape and I¡¯d have a mini-scabbard.

    . . . right?

    The more I looked at the sphere of metal and the scabbard the more I saw . . . potential?  It was as though I could see how the sphere could become more like the scabbard, the similarities and the differences.  It gave me ideas, inspiration that I¡¯d never have thought of.

    Almost feeling like I was in a dream I reached into my bag of holding again and pulled out the misshapen lump of dark metal that I¡¯d found after helping Etienne.  Setting it next to the scabbard and the sphere was oddly discordant, its dark and uneven appearance contrasting starkly with the golden sheen of the other two.  Even so . . . more ideas poured into my mind as I saw the possibilities!

    I could make a sword, a spearhead, a small shield, a sceptre, a crown, a gauntlet.  Various designs flitted through my mind, thoughts of where I could use the metals and where I could use magic to fill them out.  There were so many ideas, but none of them complete.  I needed more!  More metals!  More inspiration!  More-

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    The question came out of nowhere, so shocking in its suddenness that I jerked to the side as though attacked.  The next moment the chair I¡¯d been straddling overbalanced, sending me tumbling to the floor.  As I hit the tiled floor I belatedly remembered I could fly, that I could have stopped my fall, but it hadn¡¯t crossed my mind until too late.  Looking up I saw the tall figure of Kali looking down at me, an amused smile on her face.

    Kali looked different from what I was used to.  She wasn¡¯t wearing any of her jewellery, and though her hair was still in its natural coils it was messier, without any of her normal braids to be seen.  She looked mussed, with typical bed hair, but somehow she managed to effortlessly make it look good.  Oh, and it looked like the only thing she was wearing was a dress-like t-shirt.

    I was reminded that Kali was well over six feet tall because the large t-shirt clung to her in a way that only barely covered her up, while hinting at everything it concealed.  All it took was one look at that the glint in her dark blue eyes to know that the goddess was completely aware of how she looked, and how it would affect anyone with even a trace of an interest in women.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s got you up so late?¡±

    She asked, looking down at me with one eyebrow arched.  I did my best to regain my broken dignity by levitating myself and the chair back to an upright position, but from the way Kali smirked I could tell that she¡¯d already gotten what she wanted by scaring me.  So, I did the only logical thing, I pretended it hadn¡¯t happened and forged on.

    ¡°Bad dreams.  I couldn¡¯t sleep, and I¡¯d sliced my bed up, so I came down here to think.¡±

    ¡°And what were ya thinking about?¡± The goddess grabbed another chair and sat down, looking at the scabbard and my two metal samples. ¡°And what¡¯ve you got here?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really know,¡± I admitted. ¡°One¡¯s a gift from . . . from N¨¹wa, one of my ancestors.  The other¡¯s something that got left behind after I helped Etienne.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Kali perked up, mild interest giving way to true curiosity as she examined them. ¡°Don¡¯t know anything about the dark one, but the gold one looks like some of the metals I¡¯ve seen other gods make their weapons outta.  I¡¯m no smith, so I couldn¡¯t tell you for sure.¡±

    ¡°I was just looking at the scabbard,¡± I said, picking up the gold orb and holding it close to the sheath. ¡°It made me think of these metals and I could . . . I don¡¯t know.  It was like I could see a similarity, not just in what they were made out of, but in how they could be parts of a whole, like the scabbard.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s not too much of a surprise.¡± Her smile seemed a bit more genuine now, honestly interested rather than just looking to get a rise out of me. ¡°N¨¹wa is a goddess of creation, in some legends she created humanity, in others she made the pillar that kept the heavens from falling, or crafted magic stones to heal the heavens when they were torn.  You having an affinity for making stuff would make sense, especially if magic¡¯s involved.¡±

    Huh, I hadn¡¯t really thought about that.  Since gaining my powers I¡¯d mostly been focused on my more angelic abilities, mainly because Joan and Hadriel had been in charge of most of my training.  My wings, my halo, all of that seemed to come from Bath Kol, but what had I gained from my other divine ancestors?  But N¨¹wa, Shiva, my unknown Greek ancestor, what had I gained from them?

    Well, no reason not to just ask.

    ¡°Hey, Kali?  What do you think I¡¯ve inherited from Shiva?  I mean, I haven¡¯t seen anything that jumps out at me as being from him, but I don¡¯t know Hindu mythology as well as some others.¡±

    I paused in thought for a moment as what I¡¯d just said repeated itself in my head.

    ¡°Actually . . . why don¡¯t you tell me about Shiva himself?  I¡¯d like to know more about my ancestor.¡±

    Now that I thought about it, wasn¡¯t it weird that I hadn¡¯t tried to learn more about where my powers came from?  Yeah, I¡¯d had a lot to worry about, training, Etienne, the goddesses arriving, and then Joan¡¯s oracle, but even so . . . why hadn¡¯t I thought more on it?  Well, Kali wasn¡¯t here as a teacher, but couldn¡¯t she share some stories?

    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t like to ask easy questions, do ya?¡± Despite her words, Kali was grinning. ¡°But you know what?  I¡¯m glad you¡¯re asking.  You¡¯ve been hanging out with the angel and the saint plenty, and I get that you¡¯re closer to the Heavens because of that.  But you shouldn¡¯t just ignore your other heritages, ya get me?¡±

    I just nodded, and Kali leaned back in her chair, her chest stretching her T-shirt distractingly as she did so.

    ¡°Shiva . . . oh there¡¯s so much I could tell you about him.  He¡¯s . . . well, he¡¯s everything, kinda.  He¡¯s a god that gods worship, but he¡¯s also so close to human you could sometimes mistake him for one.  He¡¯s self-sacrificing, but he can also be vain.  He¡¯s selfless, kind and disciplined, but he can also be greedy, violent and even cruel.  If you want to learn more . . . well, we¡¯ve got a few hours, hows about I tell you some stories?¡±

    This might take some time, but I was okay with that.  I wanted to get my mind off the approaching mess with the Wild Hunt, and this looked like something I should have done a while ago.  Trying to make myself comfortable I stashed away the metals and the scabbard and nodded to the goddess.

    ¡°Okay, where to start?  Hey, did you know that mortals started worshipping Shiva long before they did Yahweh?¡±

    Yep, this was going to be an interesting few hours.

    --------------------------------------------------------

 Chapter 13: Preparations and Resolve: Part Two

    Chapter 13: Preparations and Resolve: Part Two

    The next morning dawned bright and early, a typical late summer day, warm and sunny and without a cloud in the sky.

    Hadriel had been there to greet the sun, just as she had been there to see it set. Sleep was not necessary for her, she was not some soft mortal thing that needed to lie in helpless insensibility simply to allow their mind and body to recover. She was a divine creation, an instrument of the Almighty. She was shorn of the weaknesses that bedevilled her lord¡¯s mortal creations, so her nightlong vigil had not left her tired or slow of thought. She had been able to fully appreciate the beautiful sight of the dawn, and the emerging loveliness of the day to come.

    However, it was a picturesque sight that contrasted rather sharply with her current mood.

    ¡°Oh? Is that pride I see? Do you look down on these hairless apes as well? That is good, to know that some of the younger generation see the world through eyes like mine.¡±

    The words still echoed in her mind, a malignant earworm she could not exorcise.

    ¡°Wrath too? Tell me, how much blood have you gleefully spilt in order to turn your wings so red? You still serve our father, but how far from being like me are you really?¡±

    Her wings twitched at the memory, and she could not help but notice their brilliant vermillion hue as they moved in her peripheral vision.

    ¡°How pure are you, really? How close are you to joining my true self in the Pit?¡±

    Hadriel¡¯s hand clenched, and the familiar and comforting weight of one of her swords suddenly filled it. For a moment she hovered by the window, in the hotel room that had been assigned to her, even if sleep was unnecessary, and just held the sword.

    That night at the docks . . . it had been harder than she had expected. Of course, how could she ever have expected to find herself facing a shadow of Satan himself? It defied common sense, Lucifer, Satan, both were bound to Hell, unable to leave unless very specific circumstances were met. The simulacrum that was created by the power of the Wild Hunt was only a copy of the original, and far from his full power, but its cunning and cruelty had been undiminished.

    When the Angel Lucifer fell and became the monarch of Hell he took on infernal aspects in order to be able to control the denizens of Hell. The fallen angel came to rule over the devils of hell, the beings of evil and order who made deals and planned schemes, but something different was needed to bring the wild and chaotic demons to heel. To that end, Lucifer forged the infernal aspects in what would become Satan, an existence that was him but also separate.

    It was the shadow of that aspect that Hadriel had faced, and as weak and pale an imitation as it had been, it had still almost been too much for her.

    Under other circumstances, it would have been a blow to her pride to have faired the worst out of Adam¡¯s allies who faced the spectres of the Wild Hunt. Joan, Athena, and Kali, all of them had been able to eliminate the enemies they faced, their victory was only delayed due to the immortality that all the effigies had shared. Not Hadriel though, she had not defeated her enemy, the apparition had simply exhausted the power the Hunt had allowed it. She had outlasted it, not defeated it.

    In all truth, the very existence of a copy of Satan was unexpected and complicated, but she could understand how it had happened. Lucifer¡¯s other self was bound to the depths of hell, a being of such power that he was forbidden to step upon the mortal realm lest his presence trigger the Apocalypse, as was true of Lucifer himself. The problem was that for all his power Satan did not possess a body of his own, instead, he used the bodies of lesser demons and devils. Lucifer¡¯s other self empowered them, making them more than even a greater demon, but stole control in return.

    Sometimes, by inhabiting a lesser vessel and not strengthening it Satan could deliberately weaken himself. This allowed Satan to be summoned to the mortal plane far more easily than a being of his power should have been, and without breaking the bonds that held him and his other self. Hadriel knew that during one such summoning, Satan had acted as the Head of the Wild Hunt for a short time, apparently long enough to leave an imprint that the Hunt could exploit.

    Her battle with the imprint had been . . . difficult. Measure for measure, their levels of power had not been too far apart. Hadriel might have had the edge there. However, the copy of Satan had just kept on talking!

    ¡°Why does our father care for these mud people . . .¡±

    ¡°All that power, isn¡¯t it sad to have to use it to protect these walking sacks of sin . . .¡±

    ¡°All that anger, what do you think father thinks of it . . .¡±

    On and on, as she swung her blades, as she called down lightning, as she sheathed her swords in fire, nothing she did silenced him as he hammered on the shameful thoughts she tried to deny and bury.

    The truth was that Hadriel was well aware that pride and wrath were the two sins that she had to struggle with. She was dedicated to her duty and utterly loyal to her creator, but she could not rid herself of them.

    Pride came so easily. How could it not be? She knew it was her responsibility to protect the mortals, to safeguard their lives and their souls. She knew that they were the special creation of her creator, the race promised to inherit the earth and the race loved by her lord. She was dedicated to her duty, she would protect them, even give her life if it meant saving but one of them. However, she could not help but find them to be . . . inferior.

    How could she not? They were so weak, so fragile. They needed to breathe, to eat, to drink. It was as though their entire existence needed to constantly take from the world around them or they would perish in short order. Their flesh and bones broke so easily, so few of them had natural powers to call upon. They were only a few steps removed from the pigs and other farm animals they barely held dominion over. They fell so easily into sin and depravity that it beggared belief.

    When compared to the power and purity of angels how could she not look at them with disdain? How could she not compare them to her angelic brethren and not see them as inferior?

    As for wrath . . . If pride was easy, then wrath was natural.

    Hadriel was a warrior, she had been from the instant of her creation. It was her purpose, her duty, and she fully accepted it and thrived in her role. However, it was that very loyalty that led to her growing bloodlust in the face of her enemies. After all, her foes were the enemies of the High Heavens, enemies to the Almighty, her father, her creator. Was it not perfectly natural for her to feel antipathy towards those who would dare to try to harm her creator? When faced with those that despoil His creations, was not a growing glee at the sight of them defeated and broken before her understandable?

    How was she meant to feel, being forced to face her darkest and dirtiest thoughts?

    Suddenly feeling penned up Hadriel floated over to the large French windows that led onto the room¡¯s balcony. They were fortunately unlocked because she was not in the mood to try to decipher some mortal mechanism when she could simply break it. Soon she was out under the stars, even if the lights of the city she was in made them look dim and indistinct. Slowly she rose into the air, leaving the buildings behind, the stars and the moon growing clearer as she ascended into the night.

    ¡°How close are you to joining my true self in the Pit?¡±

    The question refused to fade, echoing in her mind again and again. Just how true was it? Just how close was she to losing her connection to the High Heavens? How close was she to falling?

    She looked down and barely repressed a wince as she felt contempt rise in her at the sight of the ugly blocks of artificial stone, metal and glass. So crude, so wasteful, so inferior to the silver and white perfection of the angelic cities.

    NO! She had to take control of her thoughts, not let Satan¡¯s insidious words control her. Yes, she might hold mortals in a certain degree of contempt, but that was not the only emotion she had for them!

    Lady Joan . . . she was an example of a mortal that had achieved enough to earn her respect. The mortal had served the Lord well in her mortal life, then refined herself further when she reached the High Heavens. She was a soul made flesh once more, both mortal and immortal, a shining example of what humanity might become in the distant future if they lived up to their potential.

    There were others too. Arthur Pendragon, Saint George, the Nephilim Warwick, and even her own charge, Adam. All of them were at some stage along the path from mortals to something greater, proof of the potential of mankind.

    And even amongst the mortals that never set foot on that path, were there not those worthy of her respect? Had she not met a mortal policeman only two days ago that she felt merited note? True, he had been no hero, no future saint, but he had will and determination, enough to keep to his duty with commendable resolve.

    As for her wrath . . . yes, she knew she was prone to it, but she also knew that she was disciplined and in control. Never had she lost herself to bloodlust, and never had she even thought of turning on her allies. Her wings might be stained red, but the colour itself was pure, unmarred in any way, a reflection of her mastery of her aggression.

    Hadriel knew herself, enough to normally be confident in her nature and her resolve. Even so, why had she been so shaken by the effigiy¡¯s words? Letting out a sigh she idly noted that the sun was beginning to show its first hints of light. Soon the day would begin, marking the swift approach of the next encounter with the Hunt. How would she deal with possibly facing that shadow of Satan once more?

    ¡°Hadriel?¡±

    The voice caught the warrior angel so completely by surprise that she was already spinning in place, both her swords in her hands and charging with lightning, before she registered who it was that had addressed her.

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    ¡°Um, yeah, just saying hi. Um . . . mind putting the swords away?¡±

    The young demigod was hovering just out of the reach of her large swords, both hands raised in surrender, his eyes wide with surprise. Hadriel noted that he had not summoned his halo, a clear sign that he had not expected any threat or violence. Repressing a grimace at her loss of control Hadriel dismissed her blades and folded her arms.

    ¡°My apologies, I was lost in my thoughts and . . . reacted poorly to being startled.¡± Hadriel offered by way of explanation, only for her charge to simply smile and nod.

    ¡°Hey, at least you didn¡¯t tip your chair over and fall flat on your back. Trust me, that¡¯s hell on your image.¡±

    The angel had no idea what he was talking about, but at least he seemed to have accepted her words.

    ¡°What brings you out here?¡± She asked, curious. ¡°I had thought I would have solitude, so far from the dwellings below, yet I find unexpected company.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d just finished a long talk with Kali and I wanted to stretch my wings, y¡¯know?¡± Adam seemed slightly embarrassed as he unconsciously rubbed the back of his head. ¡°So I went outside, then I saw the sun coming up and I realised I¡¯ve never been able to watch it from up in the sky. Back at the farmhouse, I couldn¡¯t get too high because of the sanctuary, and because I was . . . having trouble with heights. I¡¯m doing better now, and there¡¯s no magic ceiling to worry about. So I thought I¡¯d just go really high up so I could watch the sunrise without anything in the way. No buildings, trees, hills or anything, just me and the horizon. Then I saw you and I guessed that you were here for the same thing. Didn¡¯t mean to make you jump, ¡®specially not with swords.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± What else was there to say? It was a reasonable explanation. ¡°Might I enquire what you were speaking about with honoured Kali? Though she is a mighty warrior I struggle to imagine her as much of a conversationalist.¡±

    ¡°She was telling me about Shiva,¡± Adam explained. ¡°Since I¡¯m his Legacy I figured I should at least know something about him. It was interesting and left me wondering just what I¡¯ve inherited from him, Shiva had a lot of powers and feats to his name.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Hadriel nodded. ¡°There are few gods as powerful as he, even the likes of Michael or Gabriel acknowledge his might. Whatever gifts you have gained from his Legacy shall be worthy, no other outcome is possible.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but you know what I liked the most about him?¡±

    ¡°Well, there is much to admire,¡± Hadriel commented. ¡°Vast power, command over demons, knowledge of many secrets, the respect of multitudes, and the fear of those that lack respect, the devotion of servants, even a love with his wife that transcended death. Any would be enough for most mortals to sell their souls for.¡±

    And was that not the truth? So many things for mortals to crave, so many things they would use their souls as coin to purchase, all without ever truly understanding the worth of what they bargained away. What might her charge be enamoured of? Strength? Authority? Love? Knowledge? He may have shown admirable responsibility with the power he already had, but in the face of his challenges she supposed it was only natural for him to wish for more.

    ¡°I liked how he was always trying to improve, y¡¯know?¡± His answer caught her by surprise, and the red-haired angel stared at him quizzically. ¡°It¡¯s like, I always knew Shiva was one of the head honchos, really powerful and feared by everyone, but I always thought of him as sitting in some palace or something. A god on his throne, like Zeus I suppose. I mean, he¡¯s a god, and he¡¯s called the Destroyer. I kinda expected him to be the sort of god that just blasted anything he didn¡¯t like to pieces and made everyone bow to him.¡±

    Adam paused rotating in the air to look at the rising sun.

    ¡°Turns out I had it all wrong,¡± He admitted. ¡°Shiva doesn¡¯t have castles or palaces or anything, he meditates out in the woods, on mountaintops, in graveyards. He just lives the simple life, no thrones or jewels, just being an . . . aesthetic?¡±

    Hadriel could not prevent a small smile from touching her lips.

    ¡°I do not believe honoured Shiva is overly concerned with appearances and beauty. I believe you meant an ascetic.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± the demigod agreed. ¡°That¡¯s what I admired. He¡¯s a god, but he¡¯s still trying to improve himself, meditating, living without indulgence, working on his self-discipline. Kali even told me about a couple of times he lost his cool, but also about the times he kept it. He sounded more . . . human than I¡¯d expected.¡±

    ¡°And that was something that you appreciated? I would have thought that you would have preferred some figure without flaw as your ancestor.¡±

    Adam looked at her with an expression Hadriel found herself unable to read.

    ¡°Well . . . yeah. Him being like a human . . . that¡¯s something I can get my head around. I mean, the Greek gods and the Norse ones, they weren¡¯t perfect, they could screw up, make mistakes, laugh and cry, and all that stuff. But Shiva . . . it¡¯s like he looked at himself and thought that even with all that power he wanted to be better. Not better like more powerful, but just better as in being a better . . . I don¡¯t know . . . person? A better himself? Sorry, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m explaining this right, but do you get what I¡¯m saying?¡±

    Hardly the answer she had expected, but a welcome surprise nonetheless.

    ¡°Self-improvement is an admirable quality to admire,¡± She agreed. ¡°One seen far too seldom in gods, regardless of their origins. When faced with power they are far too content to sit upon their laurels and indulge in the pleasures their powers provide.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not an option for me,¡± Adam commented. ¡°I kind of wish it was, but the way things are I¡¯m going to have to keep pushing to get better, or else I¡¯m going to end up squished when I tick off someone way too powerful.¡±

    He said it lightly, but the red-winged angel knew there was a grim truth to it. Adam had not set out to face an overwhelming foe, but he¡¯d found himself facing a god. It was only due to good fortune, and the esoteric laws of the Hunt binding Herne, that he had not been annihilated by the Lord of the Hunt. He needed to become more powerful if he wished to survive. There was no other option, save cravenly abandoning his role, and she doubted he would take that route.

    Yes, though her charge had been something of a distraction from her earlier dark thoughts he was also a reminder of why she followed her duty. Mortals might be pitiable and reprehensible in so many ways, but they tried. They had gone from living in caves to building towers of concrete and glass, from using sparks to start a fire to splitting the atom to fuel their cities. It had taken millennia, blood, sweat, tears and joy, wars and peace, triumph and tragedy, but as a race, they had continued on. Yes, they bumbled through the dark, they made mistakes, catastrophic ones even, but still . . .

    Her mood lightened slightly, though the sight of her scarlet wings at the edge of her vision reminded her of the other matter Satan had taunted her upon. Her sin, her wrath. How was she to feel about that?

    ¡°Adam?¡± Seeing him turn back to her Hadriel tried to frame her question. ¡°Are you not . . . disappointed to learn of how flawed your divine ancestors were? Bath Kol was an exemplary angel, but as you know gluttony was a sin she struggled with. Lord Shiva is all too human, giving into wrath when disturbed or provoked enough. Lady N¨¹wa is a deeply respected goddess, but even she has made entire nations suffer when she was slighted.

    ¡°Do you not feel some disappointment at this? That they were so flawed, so distant from perfection?¡±

    Hadriel felt disloyal by speaking so of the Daughter of the Voice, but she was also speaking the truth. She felt less so bringing up the flaws of the other gods, but even so, there was some small twinge. Still, she wanted to hear his answer.

    ¡°Well . . . not really. I mean, yeah, I think N¨¹wa should have zapped that emperor with a lightning bolt rather than sick a psycho fox like Daji on him, but I can¡¯t really think of anything else really bad about any of them.

    ¡°Besides . . .¡± He paused for a moment before grinning at Hadriel. ¡°Perfect is boring. I asked Joan once why god didn¡¯t make mankind perfect, why he didn¡¯t make angels perfect, why he didn¡¯t make anyone perfect. Do you know what she told me?¡±

    That . . . in all honesty, strange as it was, the thought had never crossed Hadriel¡¯s mind. Yes, she had wondered why her creator had made humans as weak and flawed as they were, but it had never occurred to her as to why such beings as gods or even angels were flawed in their own ways. She had always been dedicated to her service, her loyalty was absolute and as natural to her as gravity was to the existence of matter. She had been created as she was, there was no cause to question it, such was her life.

    But now . . . why was she created flawed? Why was she given the possibility of falling? Her creator . . . her faith in him was absolute, so she did not believe he would inflict this upon her deliberately, as some petty cruelty. Perhaps it was an error, a mistake made in his early creations, one that had somehow become intrinsic to his angels, which could not be corrected without destroying them. Was it a curse of some sort? Something inflicted by an enemy? It all flashed through her mind as she stared at Adam, waiting to hear what he said.

    ¡°She told me that God told her that a perfect thing is beautiful, but it¡¯s also static, something that can never be more than it already is. How can it? If it¡¯s perfect then it''s already as good as it can get, all it can do is stay the same or grow worse. If something¡¯s imperfect then it can get better, it can grow, it can change. I guess that¡¯s why we¡¯re all like we are. If we¡¯ve got room to grow then it gives us a chance to be better, right?¡±

    Imperfection as an opportunity? The thought had never crossed her mind, but now . . . Hadriel could see it.

    Her red wings teased the edge of her vision again, but without the bite the sight had held earlier. Yes, she could fall, but she could also grow. She could see it now, the potential that had been gifted to her along with her flaws.

    The angel would have to spend more time thinking about this, unpacking the implications of what had been passed to her, but it could wait. What was coming was a day of preparations for the night to come.

    ¡°Adam?¡± She asked, causing him to glance from the sunrise back to her. ¡°What is your plan for when we meet the Hunt once more?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been talking it over with Athena,¡± He replied, his wings spreading a bit more behind him, an unconscious expression of concern. ¡°We¡¯ve got some ideas, but we¡¯re going to go over it with everyone.¡±

    ¡°Have you at least established your goals?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re saving that other demigod, and we¡¯re taking the sheath back to Arthur.¡±

    There was unexpected steel in his voice. She had expected resolve, her charge was not a weak-willed man after all, but the sheer mettle in his tone was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, surprise.

    ¡°So, you are dismissing the deal that Herne offered?¡±

    ¡°What deal? He was hunting the kid, then he tried to take the scabbard as soon as he saw it. He¡¯s got no claim to either of them, no right to complain if he loses them.¡±

    ¡°Agreed!¡±

    Hadriel felt a surge of approval at Adam¡¯s words. She did not wish to think ill of her charge, but she had thought that he might take a path of compromise in the face of the Wild Hunt, unwilling to risk the safety of the younger demigod. The path he had instead chosen was more dangerous, but she felt it more suitable. Much of his fate and destiny were unclear, but one thing she was certain of was that he would need to learn to use the closed fist as well as the open hand.

    The white-haired demigod nodded firmly to her in reply, then turned to once more watch the sunrise. In silence, both watched as the sky turned a fiery orange with the rising sun. It was a beautiful sight, and Hadriel found herself appreciating it more due to having the company of one who had not witnessed such a sight before.

    ¡°That . . . was beautiful,¡± Adam stated, his eyes entranced. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it like that before, not even on a plane or at the top of a hill.¡±

    ¡°To see the world from this place, with your own eyes and without any impediment, that is the privilege of those that can fly as we can.¡±

    The angel could not imagine a life tethered to the ground as almost all mortals were. They had no way to feel the true joy of flight, of freedom in the skies. The closest they could come were their contraptions of metal and cloth to glide on the wind, or their machines of steel and plastic to fly faster than birds. Yet no option allowed them the power to feel the wind on their skin, to defy gravity with just their will, or to soar above the clouds on a whim. Truly, amongst all the gifts he had received, Adam should be most grateful to have gained flight as he had.

    Wordlessly, the pair watched the sunrise, and the orange of the sky slowly giving way to blue as the day began.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Lancelot set down the letter he had received the day before and did his best to keep his emotions under control.

    He had to acknowledge the ease of communication in this era. In his mortal life, it would have taken days or even weeks for a missive to be sent from this city, reach Britain, travel to Buckingham Palace, and then for the reply to find him again. Now, all he had to do was dictate a letter to some scribe using one of these new machines, and a reply could reach him back in less than an hour.

    Maybe he would have been happier if it had taken longer, at least then he would have been spared having to deal with . . . this!

    The reply he had received had been his King¡¯s response to his report on the situation. The scabbard, the demigod, his allies, the Wild Hunt, the captured demigod, and the bargain that had been demanded. He had also written of his own agreement with the winged demigod but had stated that should his king order him to try to take the sheath by force or guile then Lancelot would comply.

    Arthur had replied, but his response had caught his knight completely by surprise. His king thanked him for his diligence and his loyalty but bade him take no actions against Adam or his allies. He was to retrieve the lost scabbard, but he was to do so by aiding the demigod, not by working against him.

    ¡®This demigod has an angel and a saint at his side, as well as goddesses, and that is deserving of some trust.¡¯

    Arthur was gambling here, taking a chance on this young man who seemed to have the favour of the heavens. Lancelot could understand it, to a degree, but he felt it was too much of a risk. While he possessed the scabbard Arthur could survive having his heart run through, his flesh burning, poison ravaging his body. Without it, his king was mortal, or at least too close to it for comfort.

    ¡®If the scabbard is lost then I shall have to make do. I fought without it before I had it, and I ruled and fought without it for years after I lost it. I can do so again.¡¯

    Sleep had not come easily to him the night before, and when it had the Knight of the Lake had found his dreams restless and disturbing. He had dreamt of Arthur holding court in Camelot again, and though Lancelot tried desperately to protect him arrows sailed out of the shadows and ran the king through. Blood seeped out around the arrows, but Arthur paid them no mind, simply continuing to hold court as though nothing had happened. More and more attacks came, shadowy assassins with daggers dripping poison, dark knights wielding huge swords, even Morgan le Fay slunk in, magic in her hands and murder in her eyes. And through it all, no matter what he did, Lancelot could do nothing to protect his king. It was as though he were wading through quicksand, his every effort sapped of speed and strength until it was useless.

    He had come awake covered in sweat, his heart pounding and his hands clutching a sword he was not holding.

    It had taken Lancelot some time to even start to calm down. A drink and a shower, another modern convenience he was growing enamoured of, had helped but it was not enough to settle his turbulent thoughts. Before he knew it he had dressed himself in his breeches and was pacing about the hotel room, trying to burn off his nervous energy.

    Was he making the correct choice? Was trusting the winged demigod a foolish risk? Yes, the young man had personal power and potent allies, but was that enough?

    And Arthur . . . he might be willing to trust, to gamble, but was Lancelot? He had already failed his king so badly, was he going to do it again?

    What would happen without the scabbard? Would Arthur continue on, only to die years from now when he finally failed to defend against some attack? Maybe poison? Or would it be old age?

    Lancelot felt as though his head was filled with nothing but a boiling mass of questions! Questions, questions, and more questions, no answers. He was filled with energy but had no direction, no outlet, no resolution. All that was left was confusion and frustration.

    Suddenly the room was just too small, too confining, too stifling. If he was forced to stay there any longer he might well take his sword to the walls simply to have some relief! Instead, he left the hotel, walking through the surprisingly large garden behind it. Bushes and trees broke up the large space into smaller areas, somehow making the final result feel bigger. It was a clever set-up, and appreciating it let him distract himself from his turmoil for a short time.

    But it did not last. The night ended and the dawn came, and with it the knowledge that time was continuing its inevitable march. And he still did not know what he was going to do.

    ¡°Sir Lancelot? Are you here to watch the dawn as well?¡±

    The unexpected voice dragged him from his thoughts and made him aware he was not as alone as he had thought himself to be. Sitting upon a bench in one of the small glades the garden had been broken into, one with a clear view towards the east was Pallas Athena.

    ¡°Honoured goddess,¡± He said, offering a courtly bow as he did so. ¡°I had thought myself alone. I did not hear you arrive.¡±

    ¡°I had made plans to watch the sunrise,¡± the goddess explained in her slightly accented voice. ¡°A few preparations were placed to ensure I could arrive without interruption. I had not expected to find much company at this time. Mortals tend to prefer not to rise from sleep so early.¡±

    ¡°Was there any particular reason, or was it simply a whim?¡±

    ¡°A whim I suppose,¡± she admitted. ¡°The coming night promises to be of . . . interest. I felt that I might be able to take this chance to centre myself somewhat for the coming conflict.¡±

    ¡°Ah . . . then I am sorry to have disturbed you. I shall leave you to your thoughts.¡±

    Lancelot stood to leave, only to pause as the goddess held up a hand.

    ¡°Do not be concerned. Perhaps some company would not go amiss. Stay. I would hear your thoughts on some matters.¡±

    Well, that was something of a surprise. Still, one did not simply reject an offer of company from a deity, certainly not one as beautiful as the goddess of wisdom.

    ¡°As you wish, honoured goddess.¡±

    Stepping into the glade he moved to stand beside Athena. As tall as she was the bench where she sat seemed slightly undersized, as though an adult were sitting on something intended for a ten-year-old. Of course, it was not as though her height in any way detracted from her beauty, she was perfectly proportioned in every way, far different from the malformed and brutish giants he had met in the past.

    ¡°I had not thought to find you in such a . . . contemplative exercise,¡± he admitted, as a way to begin a dialogue. ¡°I mean no offence, but I had not thought that an Olympian would be using a sunrise in such a way.¡±

    For a moment he worried that he might have been too forward in his words. After all, the Greek gods were famed for their pride, and this was the goddess that had turned the mortal that managed to surpass her into the first spider. Fortunately, she simply nodded.

    ¡°I dare say that My fellow Olympians would have their own ways to prepare on the eve of battle. Ares would take pleasure in ensuring the integrity of his arms and armour, Dionysus would no doubt fortify himself with wine aplenty, and my father . . . well, I do not believe we need to discuss that in any great depth.¡±

    Yes. Lancelot had no wish to hear that in any great detail. Zeus¡¯s libidinousness was a thing of legend.

    ¡°Since returning to the mortal plane I have taken some interest in the other cultures of the world,¡± Athena continued. ¡°When we were last on this world things were different, so much . . . smaller. Our world was Greece and the Mediterranean Isles. The city-states were our concern, the culture we held to and the people we ruled over. We did not travel further north, the furthest south we went was the likes of northern Egypt, and the furthest east was to the lands of Troy. It seemed so vast to us, such a huge sprawling domain of villages, cities, kingdoms and wildernesses, and yet, in truth, it was such a small part of the world.¡±

    She paused, her eyes distant as she stared out at the lightening sky.

    ¡°One of my goals in this new era has been to learn about the rest of the world,¡± she admitted. ¡°So many other cultures, so many other ways of living, of seeing the world about us. We Olympians . . . we knew there were other gods, other lands, but to us, they were so distant as to be unreal. We had our domain and it was our world. Now . . . there are so many other worlds, and they are all part of the same world. I found it all so magnificent, so much to learn, so much to master. Introspection was far from unknown to us, but the way it has been developed and refined in other cultures . . . Fascinating!¡±

    Lancelot was genuinely surprised by the sudden enthusiasm that Athena was showing. The image she had presented until now had been more reserved, even stately. This was different, but her enthusiasm did not detract from her composure.

    ¡°Indeed, and how have you found this new world in regard to more practical aspects?¡± He asked. ¡°I have stayed by my king¡¯s side for the most part, but even I have been interested in the many new conveniences and innovations of this era. I understand that you aided your father in the establishment of his new business empire, have you enjoyed it?¡±

    ¡°Olympus Industries is my father¡¯s grand plan,¡± the goddess explained. ¡°He had few issues with incarnating as a mortal and did so repeatedly as the centuries passed. In the last century and a half, he did so almost constantly, fighting in wars, serving as a paper pusher, and learning from the shadows about this new world. When the Paths reopened and all deities regained access to the mortal plane my father was amongst the most knowledgeable and prepared.¡±

    Athena paused, then turned to the side, gesturing to a small town that could be seen in the distance.

    ¡°He knew that power would be important in this new world, but it would not be the only factor. Far too many of the deities that have returned think that they can just carve out a kingdom for themselves, turn cities into forests, drive out mortals, thinking they can just do as they wish.¡±

    ¡°Well, with their power there is not much mortals can do to oppose them,¡± Lancelot replied.

    ¡°Yes, but that is only in the short term,¡± Athena responded as she stood up. ¡°Mortals are not the powerless and divided children they once were. They have learnt so much and moved from mere city-states to nations that span continents. In addition, more demigod bloodlines are Awakening now than at any other time in history. Zeus believes, and I agree, that after the current chaos passes a new equilibrium will be found, one that shall not be quite as tilted in the favour of the divine as it was in ancient days passed.¡±

    The Greek goddess turned and started to walk out of the manufactured glade. Lancelot fell into step beside her as she continued.

    ¡°My father wishes to make himself a part of that new balance, an invaluable part that cannot be moved or challenged, lest the entire new status quo come tumbling down. Kingdoms raised by ambitious deities and demigods are . . . fragile, lacking a firm foundation. Your king has the weight of legend and reputation behind him, even if he has not chosen to reestablish his rule. His people know him, his deeds are recognised, and his authority is respected. Some strong demigod seizing control of some towns and villages in South America and calling them his nation is hollow, weak and lacking in status.

    ¡°Rather than carving out a country through intimidation and force my father is establishing an empire of intellectual property and mercantile contracts. Olympus Industries is the first company in the world to combine technology and the supernatural. As things stand our products are expensive, more toys for the wealthy to buy. Already our income is vast for a new corporation and we are rapidly expanding, but that is only the start. My brother, Hephestus, is already working upon ways to make production easier and more efficient, methods that only our company will possess.

    ¡°Olympus shall rise not as a kingdom on a mountaintop, but as a part of the new economy holding the coming world together, an immovable irreplaceable component.¡±

    The Knight of the Lake did not know what to make of this talk of global balances and set paradigms. It was not his meat and drink. Guinevere would have relished it, Arthur would have navigated it, and Morgan la Fey would have gleefully immersed herself in it, trying to carve out her own slice, but Lancelot was a knight.

    ¡°And how have you found it to be? Did you enjoy aiding your father in realising such lofty ambitions?¡±

    ¡°It has been . . . interesting,¡± Athena replied. ¡°The negotiations, the organisation, the deals to be met, the opposition to be overcome. It was a new type of war, with wealth, resources and deals in place of soldiers, logistics and territory. I am able in this new world, business and management come easily to me, but I confess, they are . . . dull.¡±

    There were a few moments of silence as the goddess and the knight walked in silence, returning to the stairs that led back to the hotel.

    ¡°When my father asked me to be Olympus¡¯s envoy to Adam I was happy to escape my office. I felt some reluctance to leave what I had built, but at the same time, it had come to feel like a weight around my neck. To be out in the world once more, witness to and participant in the battles to come, is what I longed for.¡±

    ¡°You yearn for action rather than the building of your father¡¯s empire?¡±

    ¡°The initial challenge was enjoyable, but our corporation has its own momentum now,¡± She explained. ¡°There is little that I find interesting left for me to do. The staff I have assembled can take care of the simple company management duties in my absence. And my purpose there was now as little more than a figurehead. Acting as a . . . teacher to a young demigod was not my preferred task, but I could have been saddled with far worse.¡±

    Lancelot marvelled at the informal way the goddess spoke to him. To be sure, her diction and pronunciation remained precise and eloquent, yet it seemed less detached than it had been when they started.

    ¡°Adam is not what I expected, yet he has not proven uninteresting. And this matter with the Wild Hunt and your king¡¯s scabbard is a fine opening tale for a hero in the making.¡±

    ¡°That may be,¡± the knight commented, his tone growing slightly cold. ¡°But for me, it is far more dire. I would not see my king weakened by failure here.¡±

    ¡°I doubt Adam has any such intention. Your king guards my charge¡¯s homeland, and his friends and family as well. A fine guarantee that he shall do his utmost to ensure your king''s strength remains undiminished.¡±

    ¡°Well, I shall place my hopes upon him, and yourselves, his companions.¡±

    Lancelot had made his decision. He would return the scabbard to his king.

    No matter what needed to be done.

 Chapter 14: The Exchange: Part One

    Chapter 14: The Exchange: Part One

    The day passed far too quickly. There was some discussion, some attempts at planning, but there was only so much we could do with the little info we had.

    We didn¡¯t know where the Hunt wanted us to meet them, how they wanted to handle the exchange, or even how they were going to contact us. There was just too much unknown to cook up a decent plan..

    In the end, we decided to go together, Joan in her angel form transportinging Kali, Athena and Lancelot in a hard light bubble construct. The problem was that we still didn¡¯t know where to go. Herne had said ¡®The farmlands north of the city of Paris¡¯, and that covered a massive area. He hadn¡¯t exactly said when either, so we were forced to hover in the air, each of us looking in a different direction as we tried to spot whatever signal Herne might choose to use.

    As it turned out, we couldn¡¯t have missed the signal even if we tried.

    At about 3 in the morning, a pillar of yellowish-green flames suddenly roared into being. I had no idea how wide it was, but it must have reached more than a kilometre in height. Despite the colour of the flames the pillar was bright enough to light up the farmlands around for miles, and it was certainly enough to get our attention.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s our cue,¡± I commented.

    ¡°No. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just someone with a bonfire that¡¯s gone wrong. Nothing to do with us.¡± Kali¡¯s replied sarcastically.

    I guess she was making an effort to lighten the mood, but it sadly fell flat. I could practically feel the tension growing as we descended. Slowly, the site of the pillar came into view, even as the fire faded away. I was thankful for my eyes being better at seeing in the dark since my Awakening because otherwise, I¡¯d have had to waste focus conjuring up some lights or torches, or just fumble around in the dark. As it was, I could see the details as though it were only dusk, the colours were a bit muted, but the details were still clear.

    The site the Wild Hunt had chosen was a point where the corners of four huge farm fields met to form a crossroad. These were large main roads, the sorts that big cargo trucks could happily drive along with room to spare as they passed each other. The fields were each different, one was grass, one wheat, one corn and the last being was something I didn¡¯t even recognise, maybe oats or barely. The fire of the pillar had scorched the tarmac of the roads where they crossed, and that spot was still bubbling and hissing. We all came down on one side of the crossroad, and on the other side of the scorched circle, I could see Herne and more of the Hunt.

    Herne was mounted on his massive horse, and I could see the kid that the giant bear had turned into slung across the horse behind the Hunter like some oversized pack. There was also a centaur, plenty more of those huge hell hounds, the misshapen ghoul creatures and those slimmer, almost beautiful, figures that somehow radiated cruel contempt. There were new figures as well though, humanoid wolves that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in a horror blockbuster. Grey-skinned men with bows who were snakes from the waist down. Small figures barely the size of human infants who carried swords and never seemed to stand still and never gave you a clear view of them. Crouched figures that kept to the shadows and wore caps that seemed to drip some sort of viscous fluid down their faces.

    There were others, but I couldn¡¯t make them out properly, all I could tell was that there were a lot of them.

    And each and every one of them was touched by the sulphurous green and yellow flames that I was really coming to hate. For some it lit up their eyes, for some it simply was their eyes, others seemed to be lit from within, as though their internal organs were burning, some had it on their skins or fur, tongues of flame that burnt without a source and skittered across them like pets or parasites. Somehow the flames managed to cast just as many shadows as the darkness they dispelled, making the crossroads seem like some eerie otherworld that was trying to encroach onto the farmlands of France.

    ¡°I have the boy. Do you have the scabbard?¡±

    Herne broke the silence first, gesturing to the limp form behind him. In response I held up the scabbard, letting the wrappings fall away to reveal the golden artefact beneath.

    ¡°Very well,¡± the Horned Hunter nodded, dismounting and picking up the unconscious demigod as though he were a sleeping kitten. ¡°I shall approach you, you shall approach me. We shall meet in the middle and exchange.¡±

    ¡°No tricks?¡± I meant it as a statement, but somehow it came out as a question.

    ¡°I shall take the scabbard and you shall take this,¡± Herne held the slumped form out and gave him a small shake. ¡°I have no desire to fight you and your allies again.¡±

    I didn¡¯t like it. I was planning to get the kid back and keep the scabbard, but this was going to make it harder. Still, it would hopefully make things safer for the other demigod.

    ¡°Okay, can you all cover me?¡± I asked my allies. ¡°If they pull anything, light ¡®em up enough that the international space station will see it.¡±

    ¡°Adam! Now you¡¯ve got me hoping that they¡¯ll try something.¡± Kali grinned, the grin of a crocodile spotting wounded prey.

    Hadriel and Joan both nodded, lightning and light gathering in their hands in preparation. Athena¡¯s form blurred then was clad in armour, her spear and famed aegis held ready to fight. She didn¡¯t say a thing, but I¡¯d have had to be blind to miss the fire in her eyes.

    Slowly I stepped towards Herne, the Horned Hunter matching me step for step. I already had my halo out, and my wings were spread behind me, ready and waiting. Herne held the boy in one hand and his spear in the other, flames flickered across his skin. I couldn¡¯t see his eyes under the deer¡¯s skull he wore, but I could feel them on me.

    As we drew closer the tension between us grew heavier and heavier. Each of us was drawn tense as a bowstring, ready for something, anything. From each other, from our allies, from some sudden third party, it didn¡¯t matter. But as the pressure mounted I couldn¡¯t help but feel a certainty growing in my guts.

    Something was wrong.

    I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it, but I just knew that there was something about all this that wasn¡¯t adding up, something just . . . off. I knew it wasn¡¯t anything I¡¯d seen, nothing concrete. It was pure intuition, instincts screaming at me louder and louder as I got closer to Herne.

    What was it? What was I missing?!

    We stopped only a few feet apart. So close, but with him just out of reach of my wings, and me just out of reach of his spear.

    ¡°The scabbard for him.¡±

    It was a statement, one without room for negotiation or disagreement.

    ¡®The scabbard for him.¡¯ ¡®The scabbard for him.¡¯ It repeated in my mind as I stared at Herne. There was something off there, something I wasn¡¯t seeing!

    Something I wasn¡¯t seeing . . .

    My Halo hummed a low note, and without thinking about it I channelled a thread of blackness through it and my core. This was the black of darkness, of shadows so deep that they swallowed the light and let nothing out. I could use that thread of power to make the shadows dance to my will, to blind my enemies, to leap from the ground and act as blades, even to drain the energy from others if I focused hard enough. I didn¡¯t need it for any of those feats though, I just needed something much simpler.

    My eyes had already been pretty keen in the dark, but the constantly shifting shadows from all those different flames and bodies had been even harder to see through than the pitch darkness of night-covered fields had been. With that thread of power reaching my eyes it was as though the sun had suddenly been turned back on.

    I could see everything with crystal clarity. The shadows were still there, I could just see through them as though they were clear glass, the darkness of the night was gone as well, even the constant shifting of the hunters didn¡¯t seem to matter. I could see clearly.

    And then I saw something that made my heart jump into my throat.

    At the far back of where the Wild Hunt was grouped up, I saw a figure. I could see him clearly, but at the same time, it was as though I wasn¡¯t seeing him at all. He . . . blurred, his head, his arms, even his skin colour, I couldn¡¯t put a finger on any of them, not with any certainty. I could tell he was tall and buff and was only wearing baggy red trousers, but not too much beyond that, but that wasn¡¯t important. He wasn¡¯t what caused my blood to freeze, it was what lay on the ground beside him.

    The same boy that Herne now held out to me.

    The world froze around me as my thoughts raced through my head so fast I could almost feel my skull growing tight. Herne . . . he had never identified who he was giving me. He¡¯d just called him ¡®the boy¡¯ or ¡®him¡¯ or ¡®this¡¯. He¡¯d never said ¡®your ally¡¯ or ¡®the one that aided you¡¯.

    Misdirection! He¡¯d never lied, but he¡¯d never confirmed that it was actually the demigod that he was exchanging for the scabbard! He¡¯d just let me believe that this was the demigod I wanted to save! Who was it really? A shapeshifter? A changeling? The fey sometimes swapped children for imposters, was that what I was dealing with? The Wild Hunt was meant to have some ties to the faery realms, if I remembered right.

    But none of that mattered! That that mattered was that . . .

    ¡°IT¡¯S A TRAP!¡±

    Admiral Ackbar would have been proud.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate, not for an instant. My halo sang a single note and a harsh white colour shot through me, one edged in red, blue, yellow and even violet. It was a white that crackled and surged, all motion, all power. The colour of lightning.

    Two bolts blasted out from me, one from each hand, the scabbard now tucked into my belt. Magic guided them, kept them from following simple physics, and slammed them into Herne¡¯s massive barrel of a chest. I¡¯d put a lot of power into them, all that I could drag together at short notice. Despite his size, the Horned Hunter was lifted off his feet and sent flying back. I had a moment to be surprised I was able to manage that much, then I was surprised by something else.

    The fake kid that Herne had been about to pass to me came awake with a jerk, his head snapping around to face me in a way that should have left that neck broken if he¡¯d been human. Eyes that were opened impossibly wide glared at me, and his pupils contracted horizontally, forming slits as the supposed kid freakin¡¯ hissed at me! Everything about him . . . or rather, it, was inhuman. The way it moved, the way it held itself, its expression, everything seemed to belong in the sorts of horror movies that had you scared to turn off the lights at night for weeks!

    The thing leapt at me, still looking like a boy but moving like a puppet operated by the soul of a damned and insane serial killer. Limbs flailing at unnatural angles, spine arched so painfully something should have broken, jaws opened so wide that skin should have split and torn. Before I could react a massive sword swung past me, cleaving the thing in two as though it were nothing more than an oversized cake.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    Joan asked the question as she came up beside me. Across from us the Hunt was reacting, pulling together around Herne and getting ready to fight. Weapons were being drawn, fangs bared, arrows nocked, all in all deeply concerning.

    ¡°It¡¯s a double cross!¡±

    That was all I had time to say before the first of the arrows was flying our way, followed by far too many far too fast. I¡¯d managed to get my shield up, so there wasn¡¯t any chance of me getting turned into a pincushion unless things really went sideways, but I shouldn¡¯t have bothered. A ripple passed through the air, an impression of black, red, and violet without any actually showing themselves . . . and then every arrow that had been flying at me just wasn¡¯t there anymore. I would have said they disintegrated, but it went beyond that. Disintegration would have left something behind, like dust or ash. Instead, there was just . . . nothing, the arrows might as well have been deleted from existence.

    It was shocking how the crossroads suddenly just went stone quiet. Things had been gearing up for a battle, my heart had been pounding, there¡¯d been growing murmurs coming from the Hunt, the sort that would soon grow into roars and battle cries, the first shots had been fired, literally in this case, and then . . . it all cut off at that demonstration of power.

    ¡°Yeah, I am that badass, deal with it.¡±

    Kali strutted past me, her every movement radiating the sort of self-assurance that only came when you held all the cards and knew your opponents had nothing but junk. She then stood just before me, looking back at the assembled Wild Hunt with clear contempt, her left fist resting against her hip while her other right arm dangled carelessly at her side. She was relaxed, even in the face of an immortal force of killers and monsters, utterly confident in her abilities.

    ¡°Okay, I was hoping for a good fight, a chance to get the blood burning, maybe even rip some of you guys apart before your magic puts you back together. You know, it¡¯s always stuff like ¡®Kali, don¡¯t tear his head off¡¯ or ¡®Kali, don¡¯t slaughter that army¡¯. Yeah, I get it. I can go a bit far, but seriously . . . is some fun too much to ask for? I mean, it¡¯s not like you guys can''t take it! I should be fine just getting to unload on some enemies for once, right?¡±

    I just stared at her, and I don¡¯t think I was the only one. There was a short pause, and then Kali looked just the tiniest bit bashful.

    ¡°Oh . . . right. Went off track a bit there. Okay, what I¡¯m saying is that I¡¯d like a fight, but Adam here¡¯s worried that the kid might end up getting hurt. Yeah, you guys might think it¡¯s a great idea to threaten the kid again to get the scabbard, but really. That¡¯s just plain stupid, understand?¡±

    She started to walk forward again, her steps assured and languid, but with an . . . unstoppableness to them that made her seem like an oncoming glacier, slow, ponderous, and utterly inevitable.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hold back, understand? You mess with the kid then I¡¯m going full nuclear on your asses. I want a good fight, not another hostage standoff! So, give us the kid and take your chances getting the scabbard with a straight fight, or see what I can do when you really tick me off!¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    There . . . was no response. The Wild Hunt stayed silent, nobody moved to threaten the unconscious demigod, but no one moved to set him free either.

    ¡°Okay! Does this mean you¡¯re gonna do this the-¡±

    The next instant there was a blur, a crash, and I was sent stumbling back as sound and pressure slammed into me! I stumbled back, blinking to clear my vision and trying to get a grip on what had just happened.

    Kali was gone. Where before she had been walking forwards with seeming invincibility now she was just gone!

    No, that wasn¡¯t right! As my sight cleared I saw a trail smashed into one of the fields, stalks of crops smashed down as though a runaway truck had driven into the field. The next moment there was an outraged shout, and the earth shook as a blast of fire illuminated the darkness.

    Okay, Kali was fighting, but someone had managed to take her out of our current standoff.

    Not good!

    The Hunt surged forward, like a sudden tide breaking through a dam.

    Even more not good!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Lancelot bit back a curse as he swung his sword through the neck of a red-capped hobgoblin. The head flew off and the body slumped, but he knew it would not be so for long.

    These were not true hobgoblins, the mischievous cousins of brownies. These were the renegades, the outcasts, the warped reflections that sought out a place to engage in the violence and cruelty they lusted for. Redcaps earned their names by soaking their caps in the blood of their victims, deriving strength and power from the stolen blood. Strength, power, and immortality. It was said that so long as the blood soaking the cap of a redcap stayed fresh then they could not die.

    Lancelot had learned the truth of that tale when he had still been mortal, to his regret. His lack of knowledge at the time had cost innocents their lives before he realised his mistake.

    In the present, his past was relevant because it seemed that many redcaps had joined the Hunt, and now they all seemed to be targeting him specifically. Perhaps they could somehow tell that he had once slain one of their kind. Perhaps his being a knight of Arthur somehow offended them. Whatever the case six of them had come straight at him as soon as the Wild Hunt moved to attack.

    His sword, Arondight, had already taken the heads off three of them, but Lancelot knew it would not be permanent. Even with just their own immortality a redcap could reattach a severed head, unless it was salted and buried on holy ground. With the immortality of the Wild Hunt further empowering them what should have taken hours would be the work of seconds, barely even a full minute!

    The problem was that this was all a distraction!

    Under other circumstances Lancelot would have relished the chance to fight and slay a group of murderous hobgoblins, but not now. Even as he fought he could see Adam moving away, taking the scabbard with him!

    NO! When the fight had begun the Knight of the Lake had felt a surge of relief. Relief that the Excalibur¡¯s sheath would not be exchanged, relief that this was coming down to a fight rather than trickery or bargaining. However, that also meant there was a chance for the scabbard to be lost in battle! And if he wanted to prevent that then he had to stay close to the winged demigod that had the sheath.

    And these immortal overgrown and bloodthirsty goblins were in the way!

    The remaining three came at him in a pack, one straight on, the other two trying to flank him. Lancelot lashed out at the first but found his sword blocked by a pair of crossed daggers. Compared to his broadsword they were fragile weapons, but the strength behind them was supernatural, enough to hold back the blow this time at least. Another came at him from his left. No weapons, only black claws that looked like they belonged on some sort of animal. Yellowish-green fire wreathed them, giving them the edge that nature would not.

    The claws came at him, but Lancelot knew this dance, knew how to lead, and how to drag his partners into his rhythm. His shoulder tilted and instead of taking the claws straight on, they screeched down the side of his armour, leaving scratches but nothing more. The third redcap came lower down, trying to take Lancelot¡¯s legs out with something that looked like a mining pick modified for war. He stamped down with perfect timing, trapping the pick and then kicking the recap in the face.

    All of this was done in the space of a couple of seconds, a testament to the training he had undergone to become a knight worthy of the Round Table.

    The two daggers shattered as he forced his sword down again, Arondight¡¯s blade cutting into the bulky hobgoblin as though he were made of cake rather than flesh and bone. Wrenching the sword out in one violent movement Lancelot turned it into a swing, decapitating the redcap clawing at him, even as he brought his steel-clad boot down on the face of the third. There was an audible crunch as the skull gave way, and then nothing.

    They would be back, far sooner than he would like, but for the moment they were out of the way. Ducking under a swing from a centaur Lancelot slashed a leg open, then stabbed him through the heart as he came crashing down, the entire act performed almost absentmindedly as he looked for Adam.

    Seeing his target deeper in the battle the Knight of the Lake started moving to close with the demigod.

    And woe betide any who got in his way.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Skliros snarled in frustration as he saw a fellow centaur go down, but spared it no great attention as he focused on his foe.

    Athena was known to him, though they had never crossed paths before. A small part of him was intimidated to face a true Olympian god, another part felt viciously joyous!

    Finally, a chance to spill the blood of those self-important and self-righteous inbred bastards! For his entire life, Skliros had been looked down upon by them, scorned, judged and dismissed. It did not matter that he was the son of wise Chiron, and so technically Athena¡¯s cousin, since they shared a grandfather. It did not matter that he was immortal, and trained by his father. No! All that mattered was that he had chosen the warrior¡¯s path, that he had been more ¡®savage¡¯ than his father, that he had not measured up to the image of perfection left by Chiron the Wise!

    Treated as just another centaur marauder, was it any wonder he had grown bitter under the rule of Olympus? In the end, he fled the Greek lands, taking his small band of followers and seeking far-off lands in which to be free. His travels had led him to encounter the Wild Hunt, and he had eagerly joined them, his immortality giving them power, even as he gained more.

    ¡°Haahhh!¡±

    He let out a war cry as he swung his axe down at the Greek war goddess. She was taller than most mortals, but he still towered over her and tremendously out massed her. His horse-body had let him charge in, packing all his weight and force behind his attack, but even so, the shield that intercepted his attack held, and Athena only took a single step back.

    The spear of the goddess shot out, a stabbing silver flash, seeking to stab into his chest, ripping his heart apart and coring Skliros like an apple. He did not try to evade, at least not completely. Instead, he swayed slightly to the side, the spear going through a lung and missing his heart. To any being, even an immortal, it would have been fatal or even debilitating, but he could already feel the flames of the Hunt searing at the wound within him, burning his pain, keeping him fighting! Before the weapon could be withdrawn he lashed out with the Roman gladius in his other hand, cutting at Athena¡¯s face.

    The goddess was caught off guard by the sheer speed of his retaliation, especially with most of a spear still running through his chest. She was able to react in time though, tilting her head so the blade struck her helmet, rather than her face, and was deflected in a shower of sparks. In the next instant, she had charged forward, slamming her shield into him and sending his larger form stumbling back, her spear being pulled from his body with a bloody ripping sound. Almost immediately the centaur felt his wound closing, the familiar burn of the Hunt fire flaring and fading as it completed its task.

    For a moment they both paused, assessing each other. The moment was interrupted as a vampire, pale and sleek in his black leather armour, emerged from the shadows to try and stab the goddess in the back. Without even turning to look at the bloodsucker Athena swung the butt of her spear behind her, the wooden shaft striking with enough force to fold the vampire over it like an empty sack. Bones crackled as they gave way in droves, the blow ended and sent him flying back into the shadows. Never did her gaze waver, remaining fixed on Skliros.

    He felt a savage smile split his face. Well, now at least he had her attention.

    A flash of white to his left almost broke his concentration, but he remained focused on the goddess before him. The demigod Herne had been trying to trick, the winged one that held the scabbard, seemed to be forcing his way through to save the other demigod.

    In truth, Skliros and Herne had been unhappy with the deception that Ravananaer had suggested. However, the thought of gaining possession of both the scabbard and the demigod they had hunted had appealed too much to the rest of the Hunt. Herne might have been the leader but even he was not immune to the desire that swept through them all. In the end, they had chosen to use a changeling, and it had failed.

    The mighty centaur let out an ululating bellow of bloodlust and charged at Athena once more. Perhaps things had gone awry, perhaps the plan had failed, but at that moment he did not care!

    He would do his duty and keep the powerful and skilled goddess occupied. He would give his allies the opportunity to succeed.

    And if that meant he also got the chance to shed some of that precious Olympian blood . . . well that was merely a happy happenstance.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    The wind whipped around me, answering my call and keeping me from being dogpiled by things from a nightmare.

    Okay, maybe charging straight into the Wild Hunt hadn¡¯t been my best idea. Though to be fair, it had seemed like a good one at the time. I¡¯d had a bead on the kid they were holding, Herne hadn¡¯t been able to regain his feet yet, and I¡¯d thought that I could make it before the Hunt could pull out all the stops.

    Turned out that I¡¯d been half right, my bull rush had caught them by surprise, but they¡¯d been able to react faster than I¡¯d thought they would manage. It made a horrible kind of sense, some small part of my mind noted. They didn¡¯t have to fear death, so they didn¡¯t need to hesitate like mortals would. They could just throw themselves at a threat, no need for thoughts, no need for a plan, no need to worry if anyone else was going to do the same thing.

    That was why I¡¯d suddenly found myself in danger of being buried under the bodies of those throwing themselves at me. For a moment I¡¯d thought to hold them off with a shield, but then I¡¯d gone with the wind instead. A shield could hold them off, but I¡¯d end up buried if I wasn¡¯t careful. Wind, on the other hand . . .

    My halo hummed, and white and grey flowed through me as I hovered at the centre of my own personal hurricane!

    It was barely thirty feet across, only a bit more than my wingspan, but it spun with brutal force, the winds screaming through the air so fast it almost sounded like the wail of some enraged ghost. It didn¡¯t matter who tried to get through, goblins naga, even centaurs, all of them got thrown away as though hit by an invisible giant.

    As far as defences went it was the among best that I¡¯d managed to cook up so far. My shield might be more solid, able to defend against more damage, but this tempest around me didn¡¯t just block attacks, it sent those that attacked me flying. It probably wouldn¡¯t work on something as big as Etienne or the bear form of the kid, but for multiple smaller enemies, it worked just great.

    There were problems though. The hurricane had a sort of weight to it, I had to drag it along with me. The closest I could come to describing it would be like I was at the bottom of a pool, with good traction and no need to breathe. I had some ropes strapped to my back, and they were attached to something big and heavy floating on the surface of the pool. I could move it, but it was difficult, and once I got it moving, steering was really hard.

    My rush had slowed to a plod, as though I was walking upriver against a forceful current. Each step was a slow and hard task, but I was making progress. I¡¯d also managed to keep up the thread of darkness to my eyes, keeping my strange shadow vision, all that practice with dual-energy manipulation had proven its worth. Because of that, I could still see the kid I was aiming for, clear as day.

    I saw when the shirtless guy reached down to pick the kid up, and I knew I¡¯d run out of time.

    Using the hurricane had been a mistake! It¡¯d kept me safe, but speed had been my main asset, and by slowing down I¡¯d let the Hunt take the initiative. If they took the kid . . . then what? Would they try to negotiate again? Would they just call it quits and sell him to the highest bidder?

    No more time, I just acted.

    I dropped the tempest, the winds exploding outwards as they left my control, then dying down almost immediately. The burst of winds forced back the hunters that had been crowding around me and gave me a brief opening, one that I used for all it was worth.

    I loved flying, but I¡¯d never really pushed it as hard as I could. I knew I could fly fast, but on my flight to the forest where I faced Etienne, I¡¯d been more focused on my freedom from the Hallowed Sanctuary and dealing with my lingering problem with heights. I hadn¡¯t pushed my speed though, not even in my fight with Etienne, or later with Herne. Speed could have been a factor, but it wasn¡¯t something I was too familiar with. Instead, I¡¯d focused on my magic, shields, attacks, area control, that kind of thing. Things I felt comfortable with, things I felt I was good at.

    Speed, fighting up close and personal, those . . . well, it wasn¡¯t like I was scared of them, or completely useless. Joan and Hadriel had hammered the use of my strength and bladed wings in enough that I could actually not embarrass myself using them. It was just that I liked using magic more. There was always so much I could do, and so much more that I hadn¡¯t unlocked yet. Telekinesis, elemental manipulation, weather control, all of that was just the first layer, I was sure of it. After that, the deeper stuff, I was sure that it was going to be awesome. That was why I¡¯d fallen a bit behind on some aspects of my physical powers.

    So, what happened next caught me completely by surprise.

    My eyes were focused on the indistinct man picking the kid up, and on the narrow and brief path to him that had opened up by the explosion of my hurricane. It was there, a clear path between us, one that would get blocked as soon as the rest of the Hunt started moving again, but right then I could see it! I had to get as close as I could as fast as I could! I had to use that path for all it was worth! So, as the grey and white of wind faded away I focused not on a colour of magic, but on one single and simple concept.

    My flight.

    I¡¯d gone fast before, but I¡¯d never pushed myself to go from dead still to flat out as fast as I could. I hadn¡¯t needed to and there¡¯d been other stuff I had to focus on. As it turned out, that might have been more than I could handle.

    I was physically better in every way since I¡¯d Awakened. My strength, my stamina, my durability, all of that had come up in training. My senses, my balance, my ability to deal with heights, that had been a bit more subtle, but I¡¯d noticed it, after some time anyway. My reflexes, my timing, all of that had also improved, and it was a damned good thing they had.

    I took off like a rocket had just shot by me and snagged me as it went. There was no grace, no elegance, no form. Sure, I didn¡¯t have too much of that under normal circumstances, but I had managed to take off and land without making a fool out of myself. This . . . this was my flight just launching me in the direction I wanted to go, with all the finesse of me being fired out of a cannon.

    The world narrowed to a tunnel, me at one end, my target at the other, and the only thing letting me even slightly control it was the ungodly amount of adrenalin that was suddenly flooding my system. I didn¡¯t tackle the shirtless man, it was more like I crashed into him as I came in, barely managing to keep my head up, rather than just pinwheeling uncontrollably.

    The three of us all went down at the same time, me, the kid, and the shirtless guy, hitting the road¡¯s tarmac, then rolling into the tall grass of a field. I could feel the long blades bending and breaking under my weight, slapping at my face and slowing my roll.

    It wasn¡¯t just them though, I¡¯d folded my wings in instinctively as I hit the shirtless guy and the kid, but even so, then slowed my roll, and brought me to a stop faster. I was the first to regain my balance, the first back on my feet. That let me get a good look at the hunter before he was fully recovered.

    The first thing that came to mind on seeing him was jealousy. The guy getting to his feet had to be in his mid-twenties at most and eye-catching as hell. He had the Indian features of a Bollywood star, and his every muscle was clear and carved out as though he¡¯d lived his whole life in a training gym. His face was handsome, his eyes piercing, his jaw slightly stubbled and his hair artfully messy in that way that needed an hour with a team of hair care experts to achieve. It took me a moment to remember that I wasn¡¯t the same old Adam that I¡¯d been anymore, but the fact that I forgot for a second just went to show how striking this guy looked.

    I only had a couple of seconds lead on him though, he moved like liquid, seeming to flow back to his feet with easy grace. He¡¯d lost his grip on the demigod he¡¯d been holding though, and I could see most of the kid¡¯s unconscious form lying in the grass between us. The grass was tall, easily coming up to our waists, but our tumble into it had left a flattened swathe that we were now standing in. The boy¡¯s legs were visible, but most of his upper body was lost in the grass, at least from where I was standing.

    Behind us, I could hear the sound of fighting, but for a moment there was silence here, as the shirtless guy and I sized each other up.

    ¡°The kid¡¯s coming with me!¡± I declared, my wings spreading behind me and energy gathering around my fists as I went for a deliberate show of force.

    ¡°If you want the boy, then leave the scabbard.¡±

    He had a definite Hindi accent to his words, but his English was perfectly clear. His voice matched his appearance, smooth and low.

    ¡°Not going to happen,¡± I replied. ¡°The scabbard¡¯s going back to its owner.¡±

    ¡°Greedy,¡± he observed. ¡°Do not think everything shall go as you wish.¡±

    There was a golden glow in his hands and then each of them was holding a large golden weapon. For a moment I thought they were sceptres, but the way he held them implied they were weapons. They were . . . clubs? No! I remembered this from some Bollywood film I¡¯d watched a year ago, those were Indian maces, there was a proper name for them, but I couldn¡¯t remember it.

    ¡°I am Ravananaer, son of Ravana. Do you still wish to face me?¡±

    For a moment I thought about returning the boast and revealing I was a Legacy of Shiva, but then I dismissed the idea. I knew who Ravana was, a powerful demon king and the principal foe of Rama, one of the most beloved heroes of Indian mythology. If this guy was his son then this could be bad. No time for more wordplay, I had to go hard and fast if I wanted to get out of here with the kid, the scabbard and my life!

    ¡°Yes,¡± I spoke the single word as I blasted him with a couple of powerful TK blasts, even as I moved to get closer to the kid.

    Ravananaer didn¡¯t reply, he just swung one mace, smashing the blasts away as though he was playing baseball and I¡¯d just sent some pitches at him.

    This was going to be tough.

    --------------------------------------------------------

 Chapter 14: The Exchange: Part Two

    Chapter 14: The Exchange: Part Two

    Ravananaer knew that he was the disappointing and pathetic runt of his family.

    That was not to say that he was weak.  The Wild Hunt would not have accepted him as one of their leaders if he were some weakling.  Though he was not the Head of the Hunt he had led portions of it when the Hunt chose to split up to cover more ground.  He had the power to enforce his will on any challenger that faced him, be they vampires, elves, naga, goblins or demons.

    Yes, Ravananaer was strong.

    But he also knew he was so much less than he should have been, given the blood that flowed in his veins.

    His mother had been the daughter of a powerful Chinese Taoist monk, a user of magic who had travelled in order to benefit himself and his family.  Ravananaer¡¯s father had seen her, and lust had always been one of his sins.  Despite being under a curse to never use force upon a woman the great demon king Ravana had used seduction to gain what he wished.  Once his lust had been sated he had left, leaving his discarded lover to face her father, pregnant and disgraced.

    And so, Ravananaer had been born to a mother who, although not cast out of her family, had never the less been relegated to its periphery.  Not mocked or treated cruelly, just simply ignored as a disappointment.  He grew up under the simple name of Yu and spent most of his early life being completely unremarkable.  He had come into his power late in life when he was past his prime, his mother an old woman.  His Awakened divinity had restored his youth and transformed him into an idealised version of himself.  It had granted him more power than he¡¯d ever imagined for himself and let him finally stand out.

    He had learnt from his mother who his father was, and he had arrogantly travelled to the isle of Lanka to present himself to his royal father.  He had thought he would be received with awe, with adoration, with entreaties to become his father¡¯s heir.

    Instead, his father never even knew he existed, and never would.

    Yu had found his way to his father¡¯s kingdom just as his epic war with Rama, the human incarnation of the great god Vishnu, entered its final phase.  The demigod had been witness the sheer power of the combatants.  Rama, Ravana, Lakshmana, Meghanada, compared to any of them he had been nothing.  His illusions of power had evaporated like morning dew cast into a forge.  He had simply hidden and cowered, using every ounce of power to conceal himself until the battle ended.

    And, when the victors had left and the battlefield grew silent, he had picked over the remains to find some overlooked treasures such as the gada maces he now wielded.  He had been able to increase his power by an appreciable amount in the end.

    Then he had fled the entire Indian subcontinent, travelling northwest until he finally met the Wild Hunt while in what would become western Russia.  He had managed to impress them, talked himself up and chosen the name Ravananaer on a whim, trying to seize some part of his dead father¡¯s reputation for his own.  His father¡¯s name with a European twist.  It had worked, and he had been accepted into the Wild Hunt.  Empowered by their immortality he had survived the cold centuries when divinity had been exiled from the mortal plane.

    He had built his reputation within the Hunt during that time, and he could not let this winged demigod take it from him!

    He frantically swung a mace, his speed just enough to let him strike the bolts of energy that came at him. The impact ran down his arms and he internally winced at the sheer force of the blows.  This winged demigod was powerful, Ravananaer had known that.  No weakling could face Herne and live.  But this was more than he had been expecting.

    The son of Ravana¡¯s eyes darted from the scabbard at his opponent¡¯s waist, to the unconscious boy half-hidden by grass.  A bitter curse formed on his tongue, but he swallowed it down.  It had been his idea to trick the winged demigod, to use a changeling to gain the scabbard, and then flee before the deception was discovered.  Changelings were some of the best shapeshifters in the world, almost undetectable, and the Hunt had a few dozen in their ranks.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time.  In the end, they had decided to go with it, the temptation of securing both the scabbard and the young demigod being too tempting to pass up.

    The grass around him writhed without the touch of the wind, blades of grass growing in size and thickness until they resembled the blades of huge swords.  They lashed at him, their green edges sharp as razors, but could not break his skin.  They succeeded in distracting him though, and Ravananaer¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the winged demigod reach out with his magic to seize the unconscious boy.

    NO!  If the boy was taken and the scabbard lost then it would be Ravananaer¡¯s fault!

    His mind was filled with images, thoughts of what would happen after such a monumental failure.  A thousand possibilities passed before his mind¡¯s eye, everything from being hunted down by Vishnu so as to finish off his father¡¯s bloodline, to ending up as the meal of some monster after being abandoned.

    Then he was moving, his actions spurred on by fear as he slammed into the angelic demigod, his maces abandoned, and grappled the winged man, forcing him away from the boy.  In the distance, he heard an explosion and felt power ripple through the air.

    Incredible, some small part of him was still reeling with amazement that not only was Old Hefnd crazy enough to take on Kali, but she was also powerful and skilled enough to still be fighting her, to actually be able to hold her off.

    It was a very much at the back of his mind though.  The vast majority of his mind was frantically trying to hold on against this demigod, who was proving to be very, very strong.

    Damn it!  Damn it!  Damn it!  How was he so strong?!  Was he not meant to be a Legacy?  Ravananaer was a direct child, his sire mighty and his mother with power of her own!  So why was this so difficult?!  He could feel the winged demigod straining against him, and it was taking all of his strength and limited skill to keep his hold on the white-haired man.  His wings flexed and tried to bat at the older demigod, but he pushed them aside as he tried to force his foe to the ground.  Bolts of lightning, tongues of flame, shards of ice, all beat against the demon king¡¯s son, but he ignored them, even as pain flared across his skin.

    All he had to do was hold on and not let go!  Ravananaer focused on that as he felt his muscles scream.  Just a bit longer, then his allies would come to help him!  Herne, Loraxis, Skliros, one of them had to be coming!

    Sweat began to bead on his skin as he forced himself to tighten his grip.  But the strain . . . the strain!  How long could he hold on?  Just how strong was this demigod?  No!  He had to hold on!  He could not fail!  He could not let them know how weak he was!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I fought as hard as I could to escape Ravananaer¡¯s grip, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn¡¯t shift him.

    He was so damned strong!  Worse than that, he knew what he was doing, each attempt of mine to break free or twist to get leverage was countered immediately, almost as though he was reading my mind!

    No doubt about it, this guy was one of the worst foes I could have gone up against.  Yeah, he wasn¡¯t as huge as Etienne or as powerful as Herne, but he was just shrugging off every elemental attack I hit him with, and nothing I did shifted his grip as he kept pressing me down relentlessly.  He wasn¡¯t using any showy gimmicks or tricks, this was just plain physical power and skill.

    His knee hit the back of my leg, and it folded, unable to support my weight.  I knew I was stronger than that, but somehow it didn¡¯t matter, his weight pressed down on me as though someone had strapped a boulder the size of a house to my back!  Even my flight wasn¡¯t working, seeming to stutter and fritz when I tried to use it!

    This . . . this wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d ever encountered before.  I felt a surge of panic start to claw its way up my throat, but I forced it down, even as my face was forced down into the grass.

    Come on!  I could get out of this!  I just had to use my head.  Come on, what could I do?

    The arms around my arms and chest tightened even more, and I was damned glad that I didn¡¯t need to breathe nearly as much as I once had.  I was pretty sure that if I¡¯d still been a normal guy I¡¯d have been out cold by suffocation by now, or crushed like an empty soda can.

    My wandering thoughts were brought back into sharp focus as I felt a heavy breath tickle my ear.  I didn¡¯t think, I simply threw my head back as hard as I could, pure reaction.

    Sharp pain exploded across the back of my head as I felt like I¡¯d slammed my skull against the side of a block of reinforced steel.  Still, I felt something crunch, and I felt a surge of savage joy at the thought that it had probably been that sculped nose getting flattened.  I heard a pained grunt and the arms holding me loosened for just a second.

    I forced my arms and wings out as forcefully as I could manage.  There was resistance, even if I¡¯d caught him distracted Ravananaer was so damned strong, but then it gave!

    There was a grunt from behind me, and I spun to see that the force of my breaking free had been enough to send the shirtless man flying backwards into the grass.  He was back on his feet almost immediately, but I felt some satisfaction in having gotten out of his hold.

    Then I saw something sparkling gold on the ground between us and I felt my heart freeze in my chest.

    My hand fell to my belt and I felt a distinct lack of something that should have been there.  The scabbard!  It¡¯d come loose!  Had it been during our struggle?  When he got a grip on me?  I saw a smile cross Ravananaer¡¯s face and realised that it¡¯d been his plan all along!  Getting me in a grip, forcing me to the ground, if he could subdue me then great, but even if I broke free then he¡¯d have managed to get the scabbard off me during our struggle.

    I heard a small groan off to the side and saw the kid¡¯s legs start to stir.

    Great, just great!  If that¡¯d happened only a few seconds ago it would have been great.  But now I had to get the scabbard back, and I had to watch the kid.  My burdens had doubled in the space of seconds, and I still didn¡¯t have any clear way of dealing with this guy.

    Wait!  Had that been his plan as well?  It seemed crazy, but had he somehow sensed the other demigod recovering?

    As I drew more power into my hands I found myself mentally stepping this guy¡¯s danger ranking up a few notches. Strong, resistant to my magic, smart enough to think several steps ahead . . . this guy might be even more dangerous than Etienne when his monster was in control!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Ravananaer had no idea what to do!

    He had begun to panic when the demigod forced him to let go, the force of his wings spreading enough to throw him back.  It was only when he was getting back to his feet that he had seen the scabbard lying amidst the flattened grass.

    That had caught him by surprise.  When had that come loose?  The winged demigod had been keeping it close, but it must have come free during their brief struggle.  He saw the moment his foe realised the sheath was vulnerable, and Ravananaer could not help but let a smile briefly touch his lips.  A smile which spread as he heard the unconscious demigod let out a groan, dividing the winged demigod¡¯s attention even further.

    He was not going to argue with good luck.  He was going to seize it!

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°HA HAH!  C¡¯MON!  MORE!!!¡±

    Kali might not look it, but she was an old goddess, thousands upon thousands of years old.  She had seen much in that time, had fought fearsome enemies, demons, monsters, madmen and women who had fallen into depravity and bloodlust.  Sometimes she herself had been the one to give in to her own thirst for battle, becoming a blood-drunk ravage that could just barely tell friend from foe, and not always reliably.  She had butchered her way through armies, leaving the dead numbering in the millions in her wake.

    ¡°MORE!  MORE!!  MOOOORRREE!!!¡±

    But she¡¯d never faced anyone like this!

    Her enemy looked old, at least in her sixties, her hair white with age and her face wrinkled.  It didn¡¯t seem to be slowing her down any though.  Covered in ragged brown leather, a tattered cloak, and boots that looked like they were ready to fall apart she looked more like some old tramp than a warrior.

    Kali turned her head and spat out a mouthful of blood, even as she retaliated.  How long had it been since Kali tasted her own blood?  She was so used to overwhelming her enemies through sheer strength and power that she couldn¡¯t remember.  Sure, she¡¯d been hurt while living as a mortal, but not in her true godly body.  But this old woman had managed it, had slammed her in the face with a fist covered in enough ice to turn the blow into a smash from a club.  And it had hurt!  Somehow that blow had hurt her, even with all her power and resistance to injury!

    Kali¡¯s elbow came up in a vicious blow, aiming to cave in the left side of the old woman¡¯s skull.  Instead, ice sprang out of nowhere, forming armour over her head and softening the blow.  The ice then shattered, shards flying everywhere, even at the woman¡¯s own body, leaving shallow but bleeding wounds.  In response, the woman¡¯s face remained locked in a mad grin.  Her face was bloody, her nose was broken, she was bleeding from more than a dozen minor wounds and had even lost a couple of teeth, but it didn¡¯t seem to matter to her.

    ¡°GIVE ME MOOOOORE!¡±

    Fire replaced ice as the woman swung her other arm in, flames blossoming in a deadly flower of heat and force as her fist impacted, a blast strong enough to drive them apart and to actually scorch Kali¡¯s exposed arm.

    This . . . this was crazy!  Kali knew she wasn¡¯t going even close to all-out, she couldn¡¯t, not with her allies near enough to get caught in her more destructive abilities, but this old woman was somehow taking it!  What was more, she wasn¡¯t using any of the higher powers, such as creation or destruction.  All she used were fire and ice, two of the most basic and primal elements there were.  And on top of that, this wasn¡¯t a goddess or a spirit.  Sure, she had some divine blood in her, but the rest of it felt fey, as well as something else Kali couldn¡¯t put her finger on.  This woman felt like she was even more of a mixed bag than Adam when it came to bloodlines.

    However, two factors were making her a pain to fight, even though the Hindu goddess was sure she had her easily outmatched in both power and physical ability.

    Firstly, she was skilled, insanely so!  She¡¯d managed to block Kali¡¯s waves of Destruction by conjuring walls of ice.  It sounded simple, but Destruction was a power that transcended the simple act of physical annihilation.  Under normal circumstances, ice like that would have just been erased as the Destruction continued on.  The fact that it exhausted her power to destroy the ice simply showed the skill and power that had gone into making the ice more ¡®real¡¯ than it should have been.  ¡®Real¡¯ enough to exhaust the Destruction.  That was also what was letting the old woman fight so well, her ice and fire packed more of a wallop than should have been possible for such small manifestations of basic elements.  It also fed into the second reason she was such a pain.

    Namely, she was crazy!

    ¡°Come on, Kali,¡± the older woman spoke, her voice something other than a loud cackle for the first time since the fight started. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to give Old Hefnd a good fight?  Is this really all the legendary fury of the Black one amounts to?¡±

    Without even waiting for a reply the woman . . . Old Hefnd, threw herself forward again, fire on her right, ice on her left, a mad grin on her face.

    Kali had fought berserk rakshasa drunk on blood and poison that were less crazed than this woman!  Her fighting style was so close to suicidal that it made the mind spin, yet somehow she made it work!  She was always on the attack!  She never retreated!  When she did dodge blows it was by such small margins that it was insane!  She used her ice to tank blows in a way that should have left her dead three times over!  She was dancing on the very edge of the blade, but somehow she managed to keep it from cutting her too deeply.

    Fire came at Kali, and her own flames responded, blasting back and neutralising them. Ice formed on the ground, rising up in wickedly pointed spikes and she swatted them aside.  Then she didn¡¯t have time for anything else as Hefnd was in her face, so close Kali could almost smell her breath.  The old woman was like a dervish on crack, always moving, spinning, dodging!

    ¡°RRRAAAHHHH!¡±

    Frustration burning in her heart Kali slammed both her fists down, missing the old woman but hitting the ground so hard that the soil caved in and a shockwave rippled out from her.  Even as she was hurled back by the force the old woman just cackled, her grin impossibly wide and her flames bursting out to stabilise her, letting her land as gracefully as a ballerina.

    Kali felt her anger rising in a burning tide.  No, not anger, fury would be a better word!  This . . . this was beyond infuriating.  She was the Black One, one whose name was synonymous with destruction and ruin.  Gods fled before her, demons died screaming, the earth broke and the skies wept at her approach!  And she was being toyed with?!

    It took all her willpower to hold back the urge to give in to that rage, to lose herself in bloodlust, and simply fight with abandon, uncaring of cost or consequence.  That was no option, not if she wished to keep her oath to Shiva.

    No, she had to use her head, be more than just a berserker.  That woman¡¯s name, Hefnd, it was strange, but it tugged at Kali¡¯s memories.  That name sounded . . . Norse, from Odin and his lot.  More than that though, she knew that name, knew what it meant.  Hefnd . . . Hefnd meant . . . vengeance?

    Yes!  She was sure of it.  So . . . vengeance, fire and ice, crazy fighting style.  She had some pieces, and she could swear that they were adding up to something, but they just weren¡¯t clicking together.

    Her thoughts were cut off as the madwoman charged again, spears of ice being propelled by rockets of fire.  It was insane, but somehow it worked, and Kali was forced to block the shards, the ice breaking on her skin but somehow managing to send shockwaves through her arms even though it defied logic!

    You know what?  Screw this!  To hell with working things out!  To hell with trying to use her head!  She was going to do things her way!

    Kali¡¯s fire flared to match her enemies and the world around them distorted as the power of destruction began to slip its leash.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan was not sure why their enemies were employing a different strategy, but she was finding it effective.  Rather than using the effigies of past members of the Hunt her allies were instead facing champions, the strongest members of the Wild Hunt as it existed now.

    Well, not all of them were facing champions.  The French Saint swung her sword, bisecting a ghoulish creature that seemed almost to be rotting.  The yellowish-green flames of the hunt flared up around it, beginning to restore it, but Joan had no time to pay attention.  A vampire came at her from the left, and a blue-skinned naga fired arrows at her from behind it.  One hand left her sword to throw up a defensive bubble of light to block the arrows while her other hand stabbed her sword through the vampire''s right eye, then wrenched the blade sideways, carving off most of his skull.

    There was no reprieve though, as one foe fell another took their place.  But that did not slow the resurrected saint for a moment, she was no longer a mere mortal, and she could keep up this pace of battle for hours if she needed to.  Still, even as she continued to carve her way through each opponent thrown at her, Joan¡¯s mind was coldly assessing the situation.

    The champions were engaging everyone else, except for her and Lancelot.  They were being forced to deal with an unending stream of the Hunt¡¯s rank and file, deadly to mortals, but manageable for them.  Joan supposed she could understand it, even as skilled and powerful as they were she and the Knight of the Round Table were the two weakest members of the group, even Adam outshining them in terms of raw power.  While the masters of the Hunt stalemated with the goddesses, demigod and angel the saint and the knight could be held at bay by a steady stream of immortal foes.

    In truth, Joan was astonished that they had been able to field a combatant able to take Kali off the board as they had.  Given her power, it made sense that they would make this attempt only if they had some sort of counter to her.  Simple to say, but to actually accomplish it . . . that was something else.

    Slash!  A vampire fell, bisected from shoulder to hip.  Slash!  The head of a goblin spun away as its body fell to the ground.  Stab!  Her sword¡¯s point thrust into the eye of a huge black hound, running its brain through and ending its life as though a switch had been thrown.  Each kill followed the last at blistering speed, and they were only the latest in a series of almost a hundred.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Unfortunately, by this point, the first of her kills were already starting to stir, pulling themselves back together and rising to their feet.

    The simple fact was that of all the combatants facing the Wild Hunt Joan was having the hardest time.  In the initial exchange of blows one of them, a tall gaunt figure wrapped in robes and a cloak, had somehow managed to dispel her transformation into an angel, returning her to her more mortal form at the cost of them turning into dust.  The French Saint was less powerful in this state, but still strong enough to deal with the chaff being thrown at her.  The problem was that it was keeping her out of the main fight.

    It was a simple enough strategy, but with their numbers, it worked.  They could tie everyone up with preselected enemies that could match or stalemate their chosen enemy, leaving others free to run interference.

    Joan saw Herne moving through the throngs of the Hunt, now back on his mount and wielding his spear.

    This was bad!  Very, very bad.  Joan had lost sight of Adam in the melee, but she could sense his magic flaring not too far away.  He was fighting, but he was not being overwhelmed, at least not yet.  But Joan could feel . . . something coming.

    The battle had a tempo to it, a certain ebb and flow as combatants fell and rose.  Her training meant she was aware of this pressure, at least partially.  She knew of veteran angel warriors who could read that quality as though it were letters upon a page and could use it to direct an entire battlefield as a conductor would an orchestra.  Though the resurrected saint was not at such a level she could follow the beat, and what she sensed made her grip on her sword tighten and her heart pound.

    The Hunt was waiting for something.  Their initial frantic rush had fallen back into a holding action as they prepared.  What was it?  Reinforcements?  Some sort of weapon to be used as a trump card?  Joan did not know, but she knew she had to get to Adam!

    Light burst from her free hand in a searing beam that tore through a hound and two hunters!  Her sword swung and two werewolves fell, their bellies cut open!  Still, she forced her way forward, every step contested, bought with the blood and bodies of her enemies, but slowly she was making her way closer to Adam.  She could see the others facing their own enemies, Athena and a huge centaur, Lancelot and a band of satyrs, Hadriel tore through the sky so fast she could not even see who the angel fought.  Then there was no time to observe the others.  Joan¡¯s enemies encircled her and she kept fighting, driving them back, advancing, until . . .

    A wind raced through the battle, harsh and forceful, and carrying with it a scent of burning and bloodshed.  For a brief instant the battlefield quietened as the fighting slowed, the pressure of what was coming weighing on all.

    Then the stars and moon vanished into darkness.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Hadriel¡¯s sword hacked at her foe, lightning bleeding from the edges of her weapons.  Before and around her, her enemy wailed, a sound that scratched at her very soul, clawing at the invisible connection between her spirit and her body.  Had she been a mortal rather than an angel that connection might have broken, sending her soul to the afterlife as her body simply fell over dead.  As an angel though her metaphysical connections were far stronger, able to shrug off the attack, not that it was a pleasant sensation though.

    The foe she faced was a huge amorphous creature made out of a dense fog, the edge of it glowing with a combination of unearthly blue and white, and the now-familiar yellowish green of the Wild Hunt¡¯s fire.  What was even more disturbing was that the roiling mist was constantly forming shapes that then melted away, only to be replaced with new forms.  Faces, arms, hands, silhouettes, animals, creatures that might even have been angels themselves at one point.  All of them came and went, all of them glaring hatefully at Hadriel as the battle continued.

    In truth, even though it shamed her to admit it, even to herself, the angel was thankful that the Hunt was not using their effigies of past members as they had before.  There was no threat of her facing Satan¡¯s shade once more.  No threat of being forced to hear his insidious words once more.

    Instead, she faced this . . . monstrous creature, something new, even to her wide experience.

    When the battle had begun Hadriel had taken to the air with the intent of supporting Adam from above, raining fire and lightning down upon his foes.  Unfortunately, as soon as she had risen above the battlefield she found herself being mobbed by flying banshees, ghosts, elementals and even a few winged fey.  Every member of the Hunt that was able to fly had swarmed her in an attempt to keep her from entering the main battle.

    It was a brave effort, but she was just too strong for them.  She was an angel, a tool of the Almighty forged to serve him as a weapon!  She was the perfect severing edge of the High Heavens!  These . . . these vermin were no threat to her, not even in such numbers!

    The sky lit up as lightning and fire crackled about her, exploding outwards and shattering her attackers.  The banshees dissolved into smoke, ghosts dissipated into mist, elementals of air and fire were scattered into fragments, the fey fell as charred husks!  Hadriel knew that this was only a temporary fate for them though, the Hunt would bring them back soon, but for a few moments, she thought them to no longer be obstacles.

    She was wrong.

    Rather than slowly being reformed by the sulphurous flames of the Hunt the remains of her enemies instead drew together into a single mass.  The bodies and the wispy remnants all seemed to implode into a single point, then explode outwards into the monstrous mist creature she had been forced to fight since then.

    This thing . . . it was powerful.  Hadriel was unsure as to what it was exactly, but as far as she could tell it was a merger of all the creatures that had gone into its creation, the strengths of all, and none of their weaknesses, and all of it magnified by violence and madness.

    As a counter to her, it was a good fit.  Her swords could cut its ghostly flesh, but it then swirled back together as mist, mist that neither her fire nor lightning could harm it in any meaningful way.  She could find no core, no central point to attack to bring it down.  All she could do was hack away at it, slowly whittling it down as she endured its retaliations.

    Unacceptable!

    Hadriel was meant to be Adam¡¯s ally, his protector, his strength!  Behind her head her halo began to hum, responding to her rising determination.  It might not be a Crown, but it had been her faithful companion from the instant she came into being, both a part of her and a reliable aid when needed.  Power gathered in its metal, pooling and then passing to her as she readied herself.

    Her title was the Angel of Swords.  Not fire, not lightning, not light.  Swords.  Yes, she wielded the elements of flame and thunderbolts, but those were but simple tools to her.  Swords, her swords, those were her power, her identity!

    The creature she was fighting was not equal to a god such as Herne, nor was it on par with the other champions of the Hunt.  They had skill, experience, and centuries of refining their control and expertise with their powers until it was not a brutal club but a deadly blade instead.  This thing she faced was without skill, discipline or even intelligence.  It was simply an amalgamation of some of the Hunt¡¯s more troublesome members with those difficult aspects, such as intangibility or soul attacks, backed by pure savage power.  It was a pseudo-champion, something intended to stalemate her long enough for the Hunt to steal the scabbard, and maybe even Adam as well.

    She refused to allow that!  Instead of wasting her time carving her foe apart sliver by sliver, she focused her power into her blades, her swords.

    These swords had been forged in the High Heavens, a place where the laws of physics that allowed the mortal plane to exist were all but null and void.  The smith that forged them had been older than many of the stars in the sky, their skills refined over epochs.  The metal they were made from was every bit as divine as herself, one of the first gifts of her existence.  Her blades, her swords were her first companions, as much a part of her as her arms, and they, like her, were strong!

    Her power sank into the swords, strengthening them, empowering them at a conceptual level.  This was nothing so simple as sheathing them in energy to increase their sharpness or empowering them to multiply their kinetic energy.  This was making a sword . . . more.

    A sword was a weapon, a piece of metal shaped into a form with a single purpose, to kill.  Yes, swords could defend, disarm, or subdue, but those were all secondary functions that came after the prime purpose of a sword.  What Hadriel was doing was bolstering the conceptual foundation of her weapons, taking the concept of ¡®a sword kills¡¯ and augmenting it, making it larger than it should have been.

    Her blades passed through the roiling mass . . . and it died.

    It was a chain of events that was imposed upon reality by an augmented concept now able to bypass impediments such as physics or causality.  The components of the creature fell apart, returned to individuality as they died, falling to the battlefield below as Hadriel paused for a moment, recovering from the use of such power.

    Yes, the hunters that made the mass up would be returned to life, their immortality ensured it, but for now, they were out of the battle.  Hadriel had to pause for a few seconds, the effort of what she had just done forcing her to take a brief moment to recover.  It was not something to be done lightly, especially since a more powerful foe might have been able to resist, if their own conceptual foundation was strong enough, and they could retaliate while the angel was vulnerable.

    As she took deep breaths, circulating her magic and preparing to re-enter the fight, her eyes sought Adam out.  Though she could not immediately spot him she could sense his magic.  It was further away than she had been expecting, right across the battlefield.  Hadriel could easily move to meet him, now that she had temporarily wiped out the Wild Hunt¡¯s dedicated fliers.

    That was the last thought to pass through her mind before a sudden and tremendous impact slammed into her back!

    The world blurred, and then she slammed down into the ground, her head spinning and her vision swimming.  The angel tried to force herself to rise but felt a sharp pain in her back even as a weight bore down on her.  It took her a few seconds to understand that the blow she had received had been so forceful it had literally driven her into the earth as she hit it.

    Orienting herself Hadriel pushed upwards, ignoring the pain radiating from her spine.  Soil and gravel fell away as she forced her way free, but as she tasted fresh air her legs gave way beneath her.  Feeling gingerly behind her back the angel could tell that one of her wings was broken, hanging at an awkward angle, and a long gash ran down her back.  Her angelic physiology meant that the wound had already stopped bleeding, but it would be some time before she was able to fully heal.  Until then she would be weakened.

    Around her she could hear the chatter of the Hunt, an eager sound, as though they could sense her weakness.  Her swords returned to her hands and she once more rose into the air.  With her wing broken she could not attain the same altitude as before, nor fly with the same speed, but it was still enough to offset her immobile legs until she recovered.

    Damn it!  This was going to slow her down even more!

    As her blades slashed at her enemies again she could not help but wonder what had hit her so hard!  If whatever it had been, went after Adam . . .

    Her swords moved faster as she redoubled her efforts.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I slammed a fist into Ravananaer¡¯s face as hard as I could!

    The shock of the blow shot up my arm, as though I¡¯d just hit a steel statue instead of a flesh and blood face.  I¡¯d just hit this guy hard enough to behead a statue, but all it had done was make him stumble back a couple of steps.

    The few exchanges we¡¯d already been through had been enough to teach me that I shouldn¡¯t give this guy an inch or a second.  Even as I drew my fist back my left wing came around, slashing at his chest with my sword feathers.  Ravananaer let out a sharp growling noise as he flinched back another step.  I could see blood running down from some cuts on his chest, but even though my wing had hit as hard as it could I could tell those wounds weren¡¯t much more than papercuts.

    That was how this fight had been going, this guy was just so damned strong and tough!  It wasn¡¯t as bad as going up against Kali, but it was a pretty close second.  What made it worse were those brass maces.  I already knew that a hit from those would seriously hurt, if not take me out of the fight completely.  My right wing was hanging at an awkward angle because of that.  I could feel it slowly recovering, but it wasn¡¯t going to be any good in a fight soon enough to matter.

    We¡¯d been going back and forth like his for . . . how long?  It felt like ages.  For some reason the rest of the hunt had yet to reinforce him, something I was deeply grateful for, but I didn¡¯t know how long that could last.  I had to do something to change the stalemate between us, or I¡¯d just be stuck here until that changed and I ended up swarmed.

    ¡°Uuugghh . . .¡±

    Another moan from the kid.  He was taking his sweet time waking up, but then again, it wasn¡¯t like I knew what had kept him out.  Maybe he was fighting off a spell, or recovering from being force-fed a potion of some sort.  Whatever the case, he didn¡¯t look like he was going to be recovered soon enough to make much of a difference.  That meant that I was going to have to break out of this on my own.

    I needed something that¡¯d come as a surprise!  Something he wouldn¡¯t see coming.  But what?  All the elements I was used to weren¡¯t working!  I didn¡¯t have anything that would beat this guy!

    . . . beat him?

    The realization slammed into me like a freight train!  I didn¡¯t have to beat him, that was just a trap I¡¯d fallen into!  I didn¡¯t even have to hurt him, I just had to make an opening!

    Something must have shown on my face, because Ravananaer suddenly charged forward, swinging his weapons at me.  My reaction was purely instinctive, grabbing onto my half-formed idea and going with it.  I threw myself backwards, opening a bit of room between us and dodging the swings of his maces, and threw my arm up as if I was violently lifting the hood of some invisible car.

    In response the earth suddenly rose, but not in a wave or like a fist as I¡¯d done before.  This time it was as though a huge carpet had suddenly become animate and wanted to hug my enemy.

    I took a certain level of satisfaction in the brief expression of stunned bewilderment that crossed Ravananaer¡¯s face just before I lost sight of him.  He might be able to shrug off a punch that could crack stone but I wasn¡¯t aiming to hurt him, I was almost literally pulling the rug out from under him.

    My enemy was down, and I wasn¡¯t giving him the chance to get up.  The carpet of earth, roots and grass kept moving, rolling him along like a bowling pin that had fallen over, then falling on him, burying him.  It wouldn¡¯t hold him for long, but I didn¡¯t need long!

    My eyes focused on the scabbard as I rushed for it, even as I reached out to the recovering young demigod with my telekinesis and yanked him towards me.  I planned to grab them both, then wing it, literally.  My right wing was still damaged, but I could still fly, I was sure.  If I could get some distance then my allies could disengage from their own fights and we could pull back.  It wouldn¡¯t be a complete victory, but we¡¯d have rescued the kid and kept the scabbard, and that was a decent win in my books.

    I reached out to grab the scabbard and-

    WHAM!

    I think I blacked out for a second.  The impact . . . I didn¡¯t actually feel it, all I felt were the aftereffects as I was driven into the ground so hard that I thought I felt something crack inside me.  The unforgiving dirt beneath me cratered under my fall, but not enough to cushion me.

    I just lay there, too stunned to process what had happened, then something hit me, as though someone had swung a sack of potatoes into my side.  It was enough to make me turn my head and see what it was, a kind of numb curiosity driving me to do it.

    It . . . was the kid?  The one I was trying to save?  My muzzy thoughts stumbled around in my head, failing to connect as I blinked stupidly, my chin still resting on the dirt.  Then I remembered pulling him towards me, just before I . . .

    My mind cleared as I rolled over.  Pain flared across my back, fierce and biting, but even that didn¡¯t stop me.  I¡¯d been hit so hard!  What had done it?  Had Hern caught up to me?  My vision swam in and out of focus as I tried to force myself to recover.  I could make out the mound of earth and roots that had held Ravananaer, coming apart as he started to fight his way free.  I could see distant flashes of fire, light, and lightning, back where my allies were fighting.  And above me . . . at first I was confused, wondering why the stars were gone.  Above me, there was only darkness.  Then I saw something move and my eyes finally came into focus.

    What I saw . . . well, as stupid as it might have been my first thought was that I¡¯d somehow managed to pick a fight with Godzilla.

    The thing was massive beyond anything I¡¯d run into yet.  I¡¯d thought of the Golem as a giant, but now he seemed almost like a toy.  Etienne in his monster form had been the size of a truck, but this thing made him look like a rat before a wolf.

    My dazed mind struggled to make sense of what I was seeing, taking in each component but somehow failing to assemble them into a complete picture.  Enormous plate-like scales the colour of blood, a huge crest of horns, jaws huge enough to swallow a minivan in one bite, clawed feet and forelimbs with talons larger than my whole arms, huge wings that seemed to block out the stars above and shrouded me in darkness!  I was seeing it all, but it wasn¡¯t coming together.  It was . . .  It was . . .

    That massive head darted forward on a long neck, almost like a swan.  Nothing that big should have been able to move like a striking viper, but somehow it managed it!  I barely had time to grab the unconscious boy¡¯s leg and throw myself to the side, my wings flapping wildly to make sure I moved fast enough, even as my fuzzy mind did its best to use my flight.  I got us out of the way, but as the head drew back I could see dirt crumbling away from the jaws, leaving a hint of gold to glitter in the darkness.

    NO!

    My head cleared as I realised what that glint was.  The scabbard!  That thing had grabbed it in its jaws as it made the bite!  That thing . . .  That . . .   That . . .

    Holy crap, that was a DRAGON!

    For a brief moment, I actually forgot about the scabbard as I stared up at the living avalanche towering over me.  Okay, it might not be quite Godzilla-sized, but it couldn¡¯t have been too far off.  The thing looming over me was a classical Western dragon.  Four legs, wings, long tail, long neck, vaguely reptilian, vaguely avian head covered in horns, frills, spikes and scales.  Its jaws revealed fangs that could have made the most bloodthirsty crocodile in the world fall into a mire of inadequacy, and then there were those eyes . . .

    I could barely make them out, but the brief glimpse I got was enough to send shivers down my back.  Those eyes burned with intensity.  Rage, determination, arrogance, they were all there, but what overshadowed them all was the intelligence.  Behind those eyes was a thinking mind, not some overpowered animal ferocity.  Those eyes took in the world, broke it down, worked things out, and then built plans, solutions and evaluations as needed, not as an animal, but as a person.  This thing was intelligent, maybe even more so than a human.

    On top of that was its sheer scale!  This thing wasn¡¯t big like a truck or a tank, this thing was huge in the way that overshadowed that.  It was a creature that could tear through a city, treating cars as toys and people as insects.  I couldn¡¯t guess any measurements, not with it moving around in the dark, even with my improved sight, but if someone had told me it was bigger than a jumbo jet, I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised.  This was the thing that hit me?  The fact that I hadn¡¯t been reduced to a bloody smear spoke volumes about how durable I¡¯d become.  This thing looked like it could treat a T-rex like a cat could a rat!

    And it was glaring down at me.

    It was my halo that saved me.  The thing was ringing as though it wanted to replace a fire alarm, a single continuous note that somehow shocked me into action when I should have been stunned into helplessness.  Those jaws opened, and fire poured from them, like a released river of flames trying to scour me out of existence, and all I could do was call on my power as I threw my arms up.

    I called on the colour of fire, that brilliant yellow and orange that was tinted with hints of red, green and even blue, the concept of fire.  It was easy, after all, fire was all I could see, it swallowed my whole world!

    The colour answered and power flowed through me, through my wings, through my halo, and through my flesh.  It poured out in response to my will and the torrent of flames split around me.  The ground burned, stones glowed and melted, the sand in the dirt shone gold as it bubbled and melted into liquid glass.  But around me the grass survived, the soil held, and and the barely conscious demigod and I weren¡¯t reduced to ash and charcoal.

    But it was hard, so very hard.  My arms burned, not with fire, but with exhaustion, even though I¡¯d only raised them seconds ago.  The flames . . . it was as though they had a weight to them, a terrible crushing force that pressed down on me, even as I diverted the heat and fire.  These flames weren¡¯t just fire, there was more to them, desires and convictions, an arrogance and contempt that couldn¡¯t be found in the normal fire I worked with.  It roared and clawed at my control, and as my magic fought it I could feel the cost of the effort running through me.  I¡¯d had hard fights.  I¡¯d been beaten before, hurt, all the stuff you¡¯d expect from fights, but I¡¯d never faced something so exhausting before, something that ate away at my reserves as I tried to hold it off!

    Dragon fire.  It was one thing to read about it in books and games, to be told that the breath of dragons was more than just fire, it was death, their will to incinerate all that stood before them.  It was another thing to face it, to feel the emotions behind the attack.  Overwhelming confidence, contempt of those who defied them, rage against their foes, and a desperate hunger that seemed willing to consume everything.  The emotions matched the towering dragon, and, for the first time since I¡¯d Awakened, I felt so small.

    Still, I didn¡¯t quit!

    Yeah, I was small, but I wasn¡¯t going to roll over and die!  I wanted to live, damn it!  Life was sweet, and lately, it had gotten even more interesting.  If this dragon wanted me to die then it was going to have to kill me first!

    I think some distant part of my mind noted that my last thought might not have been all that coherent or logical, but I¡¯d fallen into a sort of mania as I forced myself to devote all I had to forcing the fire away.  I watched as veins bulged on my arms, swelling grotesquely until I could almost see the blood rushing through them.  My fingernails bled as the pressure grew too great and their edges burst my strained skin.  Pain, heat barely held back, fear and defiance, it all consumed my world.

    But I held!

    The flames cut off and I saw the dragon stumble back slightly.  It was a step or two for it, barely more than a shuffling of its feet, but it was so huge it was like watching an avalanche in reverse.  For a moment all I could do was stare stupidly, trying to wrap my head around what could have made such a huge creature flinch back, and then I saw it.

    In the creature''s side was a hole, one big enough to fit a small house!  It was as though a huge chunk of it had just been deleted, wiped from existence leaving only exposed blood and organs beneath a flow of freed blood.  I could see the yellowish-green flames of the hunt at the edges of the wound already, but it was so huge that even their power was having trouble staunching the injury, let alone healing it.

    ¡°You . . . you¡¯ve got a gift for pickin¡¯ fights, don¡¯t you?¡±

    The voice came from beside me, and I turned to see Kali there.  She looked a bit worse for wear, her clothes visibly singed in places, a visible bruise on her face, and even some plant stalks caught in her hair.  Still, she seemed every bit as confident as when she¡¯d walked out to cow the entire Wild Hunt, and even though the dragon was glaring at her I could see wariness in its eyes.  There was calculation there, that arrogance from before giving way to the cold analysis of reality and the evaluation of its chances against the goddess before it.

    Apparently, it didn¡¯t like its odds, because rather than lashing out to attack it pulled back, its wings spreading and its muscles tensing.

    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Kali¡¯s irritation was clear in her voice.  ¡°Isn¡¯t anyone going to just give me a straight fight?!¡±

    I might have made a comment, but before I could open my mouth to say something . . . unwise Ravananaer came into view beside the dragon.  I could see his eyes darting from me to the dragon, to the scabbard still somehow held in its teeth, to Kali.  Then those eyes firmed with a decision made.

    ¡°Loraxis!  We¡¯re leaving!  Now!¡±

    As he spoke the shirtless man . . . dissolved into the flames of the Hunt, his body becoming trails of that green and yellow fire that seemed to flow out into the darkness of the night.  Looking around I could see other streams joining him as other members of the Hunt likewise dissolved into flames and flowed away.  Panic gripped my chest as a thought struck me and I looked back to the dragon.  Sure enough, it was also dissolving, the effect starting at its claws and wingtips and working its way inwards, only its sheer size having kept it from leaving already.

    ¡°NO!¡±

    I lashed out without even thinking about it, one hand throwing the strongest TK blast I could while the other focused on grabbing the scabbard and dragging it back to me.  Pain exploded along my arms, almost making me lose control of the magic, but somehow I managed to hold on.  My jaw clenched and I think I might have bitten my tongue because I could taste blood in my mouth.  Still, I remained fixed on my efforts, trying to-

    The bolt hit the dragon in the mouth just as the dissolving into fire reached the base of its neck.  I must have managed to pack in more power than I¡¯d expected, because the huge head actually reared back in surprise, and those huge jaws opened reflexively as its eyes focused on me.  The second its jaws relaxed I pulled on the scabbard as hard as I could.  All I needed was a moment, to get it for just a bit, then the change to flames would pass over its head and it wouldn¡¯t have a chance to snatch it back.  At least that was my guess.

    I didn¡¯t get the chance to find out if I was right.  The dragon¡¯s eyes widened and its jaws clapped down, catching the sheath in a vice or fangs just as I was about to pull it free!  I was forced to watch as the behemoth head disappeared into streams of flame, taking the scabbard with it.

    ¡°Damn it!¡±

    I wanted to shout the curse, but somehow all that came out was a whispered croak.  I tried to turn to check on the kid, who¡¯d been right next to me, but as I turned it was as though the world was swimming around me.

    ¡°Hey, Adam!¡± Kali came into my view, though I felt I was looking at her through a fish tank, her image distorted as I tried to focus on her. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I . . .¡±

    Was I okay?  A moment ago I thought I had been, but now everything was starting to spin.  I brought a hand up to my face, then stopped as I saw the blood on them.  Not just that, my fingertips looked dark brown and smelt a bit of . . . bacon?  I blinked slowly, trying to get my brain to work as it started to feel as though it was full of cotton wool.  Were . . . were my fingertips burnt?  When had that happened?  I thought I¡¯d managed to hold off the fire.

    ¡°I . . .¡±

    God, I was tired.  Had I really done that much though?  I hadn¡¯t felt this bad after my fight with Etienne, and that had been worse than this, so . . . what the hell?  Oh, right.  Kali had asked me a question hadn¡¯t she?

    ¡°I . . . I think I might have pushed things a bit too far.¡±  I admitted, then muzzily blinked down at the demigod I¡¯d managed to rescue. ¡°We . . . we should make sure he¡¯s alright too, shouldn¡¯t we?¡±

    Was that what I was meant to do?  I was having trouble remembering.  Was I meant to give him to Lancelot?  Or was that someone else?

    ¡°Adam?¡±

    Kali was reaching out to me now, but that damned fish tank had somehow gotten bigger, and I was having trouble making anything out.  The world seemed to tilt for a moment, then there was a lot of white.  I was confused for a moment, then recognised my own wing.  Oh yeah, I did have those, didn¡¯t I?  I was still getting used to them, but had they always been this soft?  Wow, I hadn¡¯t realised I had something so comfortable so close to hand.

    I blinked again, my eyelids feeling like they had anvils strapped to them, but still managing to open them enough to see that others were joining Kali.  They were talking, maybe even shouting, but my wings were so soft, and somehow they muffled the noise as I buried my head into it.

    ¡°-¡¯m just going to rest a bit, ¡®kay?¡±

    It was more of a mumble than anything else.  But it was the best I could manage.  My other wing was still not working right, but it didn¡¯t hurt as I moved it, so I drew it over me, covering me and wrapping myself up as my eyes drifted shut and comfortable darkness pulled me into its embrace.

 Chapter 15: Discussions and Preparations: Part One

    Chapter 15: Discussions and Preparations: Part One

    The sun rose, and the Wild Hunt hid from its rays.

    Such was the nature of things, they were beings of the night, the hunters in the dark.  When the light of the day shone they became shadows, unmoving, untouchable, unliving.  Still, they could communicate, the bond of the Hunt sufficient for such exchanges, even when they were nought but shadows.

    ¡°We have the scabbard, but lost the boy.¡±

    It was Herne that spoke first, his voice rippling through the common link, all hearing his words.

    ¡°A demigod is valuable, especially one so powerful at such a young age,¡± Skliros replied. ¡°The sheath of Albion¡¯s King is a unique treasure.  That Merlin had a hand in its fate will only make it more attractive to them.  It may well be the coin we need.¡±

    ¡°The scabbard and the demigod would have made for a better payment.¡± Old Hefnd grumbled, her tone subdued, her wounds from Kali tiring her even after being healed.

    ¡°Perhaps, but our ploy failed.  At least we were able to secure the prize of greater value.¡± Herne intoned.

    ¡°Do you think it will be enough?¡± Skliros asked.

    ¡°With them, there is no way of knowing.¡± The one who spoke this time was Mihnea, one of the old vampires who had long been a member of the Hunt.  He was no leader, lacking any desire to lead more than his small group of blood spawns, but his voice carried some weight due to his experience and his power.

    ¡°Since the paths have opened once more magic has returned.  They will want to take advantage of that, and they shall need all the power they can muster.  The scabbard of Avalon¡¯s king, one of the few artefacts of immortality in the world, that should be enough to satisfy them.¡± Herne¡¯s reply held as much certainty as the rise of the sun.  The scabbard would pay their price, and the shadowy hearts of the Wild Hunt felt a rare glow of anticipation and hope.

    ¡°We have not reached them yet though. And I do not think we shall without at least one more challenge.¡± Ravananaer spoke up.  Despite being regarded as the hero of the last battle, keeping the winged demigod engaged long enough for Loraxis to launch his surprise attack, he sounded subdued.

    ¡°That demigod and his allies are formidable, but we no longer need to confront them.  They shall not be an issue.¡± Mihnea replied, several of the other strong Hunters lending him their silent agreement through the link.

    ¡°They have Athena with them.  Do you truly think there is no way for her to hunt us?  If nothing else she can ask her half-sister Artemis for aid.¡± It was Skliros who replied, a faint note of derision in his rumbling voice.

    ¡°Artemis once hunted with us, would she aid our foes?¡± Herne questioned the centaur.

    ¡°Was that a jest?  To hunt the Hunters, that would be a chase she would relish!¡±

    A moment of silence followed at the thought of the goddess of the hunt as a foe.  A thought daunting enough to inspire trepidation in the hearts of most of the Wild Hunt.

    Most of them.

    ¡°If it means that I can face Kali again then I do not care!¡±

    Hefnd¡¯s voice broke the silence, the eagerness and battle lust all but dripping from her words.  For a moment there was only silence, as though nobody could quite believe what they were hearing.  Then Ravananaer replied.

    ¡°Well, you are insane, so I hardly think your opinion matters.¡±

    ¡°Care to repeat that, brat?¡± If her words had dripped with combative desire before, they now carried only fire, ice and the promise of pain. ¡°Would you care to say that to old Hefnd again?¡±

    Despite the threat there the last son of Ravana replied without hesitation.

    ¡°You want to fight Kali, the Black One, again!  On your own!  After having fought her once already!  Do you think that is anything other than insane?!¡±

    Again silence took hold of the link between the Hunters, only to be broken again by Hefnd.

    ¡°. . . It is still rude to say it.¡±

    Her words were now more grumpy than venomous and tinged with some embarrassment.  The fact that she was not denying Ravananaer¡¯s words against her was also telling.  The earlier tension started to dissipate, only to return as a new voice spoke.

    ¡°If they come then they will burn.¡±

    It was as though a volcano had somehow chosen to voice its thoughts.  The words spoken might have been brief, but the power behind them, the rage, the certainty, felt as though an impending avalanche.  Even so, the Wild Hunt was no place for the weak, and Herne replied, uncaring of the titanic presence that had just spoken.

    ¡°They are formidable, and they have a dragonslayer in their number.¡±

    Lancelot had been known to slay dragons during his time as a Knight of the Round Table.  His sword, Arondight, had tasted their blood and gained power from it.

    ¡°I am not the guardians of the Vale Without Return, I am not the pets of a sorceress.  I am old, I am travelled, and I am mighty, I am Loraxis!¡±

    The words reverberated along the link of the Wild Hunt, fire, earth and air roaring along with them as though the very world was breaking.

    ¡°And they have two goddesses that will not be so easily held at bay if we need to fight them again.¡±

    It was Ravananaer who spoke, one of the few that the dragon allowed to speak to him in such a way.

    ¡°Gods are formidable, but they can bleed.  They can die.  If they seek to keep us from paying the price demanded of us we will find if they can burn as well.¡±

    The dragon¡¯s reply was delivered with the same towering self-certainty that characterised his every word.  For any other, it would have been arrogance, perhaps even delusion, but not Loraxis.  His words were not boasts, they were statements of fact.  He was old, old enough to have grown up while the Titans still ruled their part of the mortal realm.  He had flown across the world when Osiris was still king.  His fangs had clashed with Gilgamesh¡¯s sword and he had lived.  Few of his kind had reached the same age he had, and backed by the power of the Wild Hunt he was even more dangerous.

    ¡°We shall have to take a night to recover fully,¡± Herne spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. ¡°We shall begin our journey to the Black Forest tomorrow evening.  Whether we are forced to face the demigod and his allies again will be determined by our skills.¡±

    ¡°What, you wish to act like prey animals?¡± Hefnd practically spat the word, the thought of acting as the hunted instead of the hunter grating at her pride. ¡°Cone on, we should find a decent battleground away from mortals and draw them in. No more running, no more hiding.  Let''s beat them down and drag the demigods along with us.  Them along with the sheath . . . we will not simply be paying the price, we shall have those old tricksters throwing a party for us!¡±

    ¡°You would risk much for your fight,¡± Herne replied, his words cold and hard. ¡°This is the greatest opportunity we have had since the Path of Eternity opened once more, do you suggest we so casually endanger it?¡±

    ¡°True, but what if those old buzzards become greedy,¡± The old woman¡¯s voice snapped back like a whip. ¡°We shall be bringing them a treasure, but what if they say it is not enough?  What if they demand more?  We have brought them this prize, perhaps they shall think it a waste to surrender their leash upon us so easily.  After all, what other gems might we bring them if they can make us desperate enough?¡±

    The words were ugly but also had some ring of possibility to them.  Those they sought to bargain with were greedy.  Would they allow their greed to rule them in this matter?  Would even the scabbard of King Arthur not be enough?  Would they demand more?

    ¡°They will not deny me!¡±

    The voice of Loraxis would have made the earth itself shake had they not been suspended in shadows as they were.  Of all of them, he had been the one that had lost the most, who most wished to see the debt paid.  If the buzzards once more denied them . . . Well, the last time the Hunt had only just managed to keep the dragon from rampaging.  Perhaps they would not be so fortunate this time.

    ¡°Enough!¡±

    Herne''s voice descended upon the communication like a smothering wet blanket, heavy and clinging, leeching away strength and warmth.  Even Loraxis¡¯ presence drew back slightly.  This was the power of the Herne the Hunter, the current leader of the Wild Hunt.

    ¡°We shall take this day, the coming night and the next day to rest and recover, then we shall take the scabbard and make for the Black Forest.¡±

    His words might as well have been carved into the side of a mountain by some mad prophet, there was no give to them, not uncertainty, no compromise.  They were simply statements of how reality would unfold, and that defied them would be crushed beneath their weight.

    ¡°Should that winged demigod and his allies impede us, then we shall show them how foolish a choice it was.¡±

    There was no further discussion, the Hunt simply sank into their rest, preparing for the journey to come. And for any obstacles they might face.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I came back to consciousness slowly, as though I was waking up from a deep sleep.

    Darkness gave way to a sort of muzzy awareness that threatened to sink back into that comfortable dark at the slightest opportunity.  But even though I felt warm and relaxed the darkness slowly receded like an outgoing tide.  My mind slowly cleared and I became aware of the world more and more until I could no longer lie in the comfortable embrace of my wings.  Instead, memories came back, and with them the realization of just how bad things had gone.

    I¡¯d lost the scabbard!  King Arthur¡¯s Scabbard!  It had been stolen by a freakin¡¯ DRAGON!

    Oh hell, Lancelot was going to Kill me!

    My wings pulled back and I tried to sit up.  My body felt stiff as I moved, but the was no pain, no aches, no stings.  I¡¯d been expecting something, given what I¡¯d gone through with Ravananaer and then the dragon, but I actually felt pretty okay.  Rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck I sat up and took a look around me.

    From what I could see I was in some sort of clinic or hospital.  It was in were all predominantly white, with those curtain screens that you typically saw in most hospitals, white office chairs, a desk, and a frosted glass window.  The room itself was fairly large, and it needed to be since the bed I was on was one of four.  I took that all in at a glance, but what drew my attention was who I saw lying on the bed opposite from me.

    The kid, the demigod that Wild Hunt had taken.  He was lying there, a white blanket over him to just over his chest, and he was still in the same battered clothes he¡¯d been wearing when I¡¯d seen him at Ravananaer¡¯s feet, the same ones he¡¯d been wearing when they¡¯d taken him. His brown hair was still messy, and his face had a drawn look to it, even relaxed in sleep as it was.

    But he was here! I¡¯d gotten him away from the Hunt!

    That . . . that was something.  Something big!  Maybe I¡¯d screwed up and lost the scabbard, but I¡¯d at least managed to save the kid, and that was one worthwhile thing I could take away from this mess.

    As I got off the bed I noted that I still had my trainers on.  They were scorched and soot-stained, but surprisingly they were still holding together and were still pretty comfortable.  It was funny how my mind wandered, but I did my best to get my focus back as I stood up and took stock of myself.

    My wings were fully healed, my body felt okay, and though my halo was gone I could feel from my connection to it that it simply waited in the strange not-existing state it took when not in use and wasn¡¯t damaged.  All in all, I seemed to be completely recovered, even my magic channels felt fine, maybe a bit sore, but barely noticeable.

    That had me a bit worried.  How long had I been out?  If I was fully recovered like this then had it been days?  Had I lost any chance to recover the scabbard?  Fortunately, I noticed a big digital clock on the wall, one showing the date and the time.  Unless it was completely off then it was the early afternoon of the day after the fight, just coming up to one o¡¯clock.  That meant I¡¯d been out for at least nine hours.

    That was kind of weird.  I knew I recovered quickly, but this seemed too complete, and thorough.

    ¡°Uuu . . . uuugh . . .¡±

    I was pulled away from my uncertainties as I looked back to the bed and saw the kid sitting up and looking at me.  His eyes were still bleary and squinted as he tried to focus on me. Also, I didn¡¯t need to be any great reader of body language to realise he was acting defensive.  His arms were pulled in close, his fists were bunched, his muscles were tense.  He looked like someone ready to fight or run.

    ¡°Hey kid, how¡¯re you doing?¡±

    I tried to sound as calm and friendly as I could manage.  As the younger demigod came more and more awake I could see him start to edge towards panic, his eyes flicking around, focusing on me and the only door out of the room more and more.

    ¡°Hey, calm down,¡± My efforts at a soothing voice might have needed some improvement, but at least they got his attention. ¡°It¡¯s okay.  You¡¯re safe.  We got you away from the Hunt.¡±

    ¡°No, no you don¡¯t get it!¡± The words seemed to burst out of him, slightly shrill and increasingly panicked. ¡°They¡¯ll come back!  They always do!  They¡¯ll come here, and then people¡¯ll get hurt!  I¡¯ve . . . I¡¯ve got to go!¡±

    His leg swung out from under the sheets and he jumped off the bed . . . then collapsed as his knees gave out.  The only reason he didn¡¯t crash painfully to the tiled floor was that I instinctively reached out with telekinesis and caught him with my colourless magic.  I lifted him until he was sitting on the bed again, then moved over and grabbed the chair that was by his bed.  I swung it around and straddled it, my wings once again making sitting on it an uncomfortable prospect.  I offered the kid as comforting a smile as I could manage as I started talking.

    ¡°Take it easy,¡± I reassured him. ¡°We¡¯re good for the time being.  My friends are here, and I don¡¯t think the Hunt is going to go through them any time soon.  Take some time, okay?¡±

    Well, I wasn¡¯t quite sure if that was accurate.  For all I knew they¡¯d dropped me here and were right now pursuing the Wild Hunt across the Asian continent, but I was willing to bet that at least some of them were nearby to keep me safe while unconscious.

    ¡°I . . . you, I . . . I know you, don¡¯t I?¡±

    As his panic settled and he started to speak clearer I noticed that there was a slight American twang to his words.  Even so, he had another accent as well, something faint but familiar.  Dismissing it from my mind I nodded at him, not letting myself get distracted.

    ¡°Yeah, we fought the Hunt and Herne together.  You were a bit bigger at the time though.¡±

    I smiled as I said that, doing my best to make sure he knew I was joking.

    ¡°Are . . . are you an angel?¡±

    He was looking at me with wide eyes now, and I was once again reminded of just how young he looked.  He couldn¡¯t have been more than . . . what?  Fourteen?  Thirteen?  I¡¯d kept on thinking of him as the kid, but suddenly it seemed so much more appropriate than it had before.

    ¡°No,¡± I denied, still smiling. ¡°But I do have some angel in my ancestry.  I¡¯ve actually got a lot in my ancestry, truth be told.¡±

    ¡°Oh?  Me too!¡±

    I almost frowned at his reply but managed to keep it from showing.

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± He nodded enthusiastically. ¡°I¡¯m a Legacy to Bear, Amaterasu and Ogun.¡±

    He said it proudly, but I had to struggle to keep my shock from showing.  One of the things that had made up my education had been Joan hammering it into my head about how rare convergent Legacies were.  Dual Legacies were rare, and me, a fourfold Legacy, seemed unprecedented.  This kid had three Legacies.  It wasn¡¯t unheard of, but from what I¡¯d learnt from Joan it had only happened twice.  And his progenitors . . .

    ¡°Okay, I know Amaterasu, she¡¯s the Japanese Goddess of the sun, right?¡± He nodded and I continued. ¡°When you say Bear, do you mean and bear in specific, or are we talking about just some spirit or something?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± He assured me. ¡°Bear is The Bear, over in America he was everywhere long before any of the settlers landed.¡±

    Ah, so we were talking about the Native American Bear?  I didn¡¯t know too much about that one, only that Bear featured heavily in many of the legends and stories that had been passed down from the Native Americans to the modern day.

    ¡°And Ogun?  I¡¯m sorry, but that¡¯s not someone I recognise.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s an African god of war and iron.  He¡¯s strong too.  He appeared in my dreams and told me I was Awakening and that I¡¯d have to be careful.  If he hadn¡¯t I¡¯d have tried turning into a bear in my room.¡±

    Yeah, I could see how that could be a disaster.  That bear form of his was the size of a small elephant, at least.  If he¡¯d changed into that while still in a house . . . the best outcome I could see was some broken ceilings and a massive replastering bill.  At worst the whole place might end up crashing down.  This kid had some backing, a divine ancestor that cared enough to talk to him.  So, what was his story?

    ¡°Okay, how about we start again,¡± I offered.  ¡°I¡¯m Adam, Adam West.  Pleased to meet you.  And you are?¡±

    The boy blinked at me, then seemed to realise that I still didn¡¯t know his name.

    ¡°I¡¯m Mato Carran.  Thanks for saving me?¡±

    The last part was asked as a question, his expression a bit awkward as he looked at me, unsure of what to say or do.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.  So, what¡¯s your story?  How¡¯d you end up with the Wild Hunt after you?¡±

    He sort of went still, his lips pressing together, and I wondered if maybe I¡¯d stepped on something, maybe triggered some painful memory.

    ¡°For me it was Joan of Arc showing up on my doorstep,¡± I admitted, figuring that sharing my own story might make for a good first step. ¡°Can you imagine that?  She was all dressed in armour and carrying a sword.  Anyway, she told me I was a demigod and that I had to go with her.  Since arguing with the saint that¡¯s meant to be keeping you safe seemed like the stupid option I went with her.  A few weeks later I¡¯ve got wings and magic.  That was cool.  Having to fight monsters trying to eat me, less so.¡±

    The younger demigod was now looking at me with big eyes, and I couldn¡¯t help but show off a bit.  A small ball of fire sprang to life in my left hand, burning a merry orange-yellow.  I flicked it over and caught it with my right hand, and as I did so the flame¡¯s colours switched to different shades of blue.  Back it went to my left hand and it was changed to pink and violet.  Back to my right and it was in shades of green.

    The kid¡¯s eyes followed the fireball back and forth as though I¡¯d somehow managed to hypnotise him, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide.  In the silence, I took a moment to look at him, for the first time getting a chance to really take him in.

    He was definitely young, and looked as if he¡¯d been living on the streets for a while.  His clothes were rumbled and dirty, and he smelt a bit on the ripe side.  His light brown hair was, greasy, unwashed and matted.  He looked a bit thin and underfed.  His eyes were surprisingly dark, the brown of his irises barely a different shade than his pupils.  All in all, he looked dishevelled, but there were hints that when he grew up he might end up as quite the handsome guy.  Idly I wondered how many demigods got a boost to their looks when they Awakened, and whether or not his kid had been one of them.  It was a silly thought, but I couldn¡¯t help it.

    It also proved enough of a distraction to make me miss catching the fireball, now a mixture of red and purple, which sailed across the room and hit the wall.

    ¡°Ahk!¡±

    With a strangled squawk I reached out and dispelled the fire, then dispelled the fires the fireball had started.  It had left a singed mark on the wall, a few bits of wallpaper having caught fire before I extinguished it.  Slightly panicked at this inadvertent vandalism I noticed that the scorch mark was next to a filing cabinet.  With a minor application of TK, I moved the cabinet to the side, covering the scorch mark.  Yeah, the cabinet was slightly out of place now, but it was pretty heavy, enough so that moving it would be a chore for any normal person who wasn¡¯t a powerlifter.  With any luck, it would be years before anyone moved the thing and found the concealed evidence.

    ¡°Hrk.  Hhm.  Heh hehumph!¡±

    Looking over I saw that Mato was staring at me and doing his best to strangle any laughter at my antics.  His best wasn¡¯t too good though, because even though he had his hands covering his mouth muffled sounds escaped.  I just rolled my eyes at him and offered as good-natured a grin as I could manage.

    ¡°Yeah yeah, laugh it up, kid.  I know I need some more practice.¡±

    That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel¡¯s back, because the young demigod collapsed on his bed, laughing so hard he struggled to draw breath.  Honestly, I didn¡¯t think it was that funny, but I decided that this must be a bit of venting for the kid, a chance to let go of the tension he¡¯d obviously been carrying around.

    After a bit, the laughter tapered off into chuckling, and he sat up again.

    ¡°Th-thanks, I . . . I needed that.¡±

    ¡°No problem,¡± I smiled back. ¡°Now, I¡¯ve got some questions, okay?¡±

    Mato nodded and I continued.

    ¡°How¡¯d you end up here?¡±

    I tried to ask about his past, this time being as gentle about it as I could.  For a moment I saw another flare of stubbornness in his eyes, but it faded as his hands clenched in his lap.

    ¡°I . . . after I got my powers I got too excited,¡± he admitted.  ¡°I went out one night and tried them all out, turning into a bear, playing with fire, summoning iron, everything I could do at the time.  I . . . I ended up getting spotted by a scout of the Wild Hunt.¡±

    ¡°Where were you living?¡±  I asked, wanting to get a better idea of just where this had all started.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Near Tralee,¡± Mato replied.

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Tralee, on the Ring of Kerry.¡±

    ¡°What, you mean in Ireland?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    I just stared at the kid, trying to remember what I knew of Irish geography from a holiday I¡¯d taken there a couple of years back.  Mostly I remembered that the stews were great, the beer was even better, and the scenery out in the countryside had been beautiful.  I¡¯d had some great hikes, but it had been in the northwestern areas.  I¡¯d heard of the Ring of Kerry but never been there.  Still, this all did beg a certain question.

    ¡°So how¡¯d you end up here?  And what about your family?  Did . . . did something happen to them?¡±

    A terrible suspicion started to rise in me.  His fear, his situation, and the ruthlessness of the Hunt.  Had his family been . . .

    ¡°No, they¡¯re okay.¡± He insisted as he shook his head. ¡°Ogun . . . he spoke to me in my head, told me that the Hunt¡¯d found me, told me to run or they¡¯d hurt my family trying to get me.¡±

    That made sense.  I was more surprised by the level of care this Ogun was showing for his descendant.  True, I didn¡¯t know too much about how gods were treating their Legacies, but I was pretty sure that such a level of interaction was . . . uncommon at the very least.

    ¡°So, what happened next?¡±

    ¡°I . . . I got the idea that if I could make it to King Arthur then he could help me,¡± Mato explained. ¡°I grabbed my savings and got on a coach to the coast, then I tried to stow away on a ferry going to Britain.  I had a lesser power from Amaterasu that helped me hide, so I thought it¡¯d be easy.¡±

    ¡°So how¡¯d you end in France?¡±

    The younger demigod¡¯s eyes dropped in . . . embarrassment?

    ¡°I got on the wrong ferry,¡± He admitted. ¡°It wasn¡¯t ¡®til I got her that I realised what had gone wrong, and it was getting dark by then.  I had to run, and then things just got worse.¡±

    His face crumpled and I realised that even if I had managed to get him to open up he was still carrying around a lot of pent-up emotions.

    ¡°I had to keep running, keep hiding.  Every time someone tried to help me the Hunt ended up hurting them . . . and then they¡¯d just . . . just let me go again!¡±

    His face was turning red now, outrage and frustration so thick in his voice you could feel it.

    ¡°They had me!  They kept on catching me and then they¡¯d let me go!  Sometimes I got away, but even when I didn¡¯t they¡¯d just let me go!  Why?!  Why¡¯d they just keep . . . playing with me?!  If I didn¡¯t run then they¡¯d hurt me!  They¡¯d hurt others!  I don¡¯t . . .  Why did they . . .¡±

    His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white, his shoulders were shaking now and he couldn¡¯t seem to get his words out properly.  For a moment I wasn¡¯t sure what to do, then I just went with what felt right.  I was off the chair and at his side, pulling him into a hug as I made sure not to squeeze him too tightly.  It felt oddly personal, but this was a kid, barely more than a child, and it wasn¡¯t hard to see that he¡¯d been through way, way too much.  Without meaning to my wings also entered the hug, coming around and settling over my arms to wrap the boy in a sort of feathered blanket from the neck down.

    My action seemed to catch him by surprise, but Mato relaxed into the hug, and after a bit, I could feel at least some of the tension going out of him.  he rested his head on my shoulder with his eyes closed and seemed to be taking some time to pull himself together and recover his calm.  I just waited, patient enough to give him the time he needed.

    Before too long Mato pulled back, only to sneeze as one of the softer feathers on my left wing managed to tickle his nose.  The look of confusion on his face was oddly amusing, and I had to fight the urge to try and tickle him with it again.  Instead, I pulled back, sitting beside him on the bed but leaving some space between us.

    ¡°You were brave,¡± I assured him. ¡°The Wild Hunt . . . they can only take you when you give up, when you quit.  That¡¯s why they were hounding you, but kept letting you go. You were too brave, too brave and too strong.  You never broke, they couldn¡¯t break you, understand?¡±

    As I said it he just looked at me, as though I¡¯d suddenly started trying to explain quantum uncertainty principles to him.  I tried to explain, to offer encouragement.

    ¡°You won.  They couldn¡¯t take you, not when you hadn¡¯t given up.  So, they kept hounding you, but you held out long enough for me and my friends to find you. We got you back, and we¡¯re not going to let you get taken again.  You¡¯re safe.¡±

    He blinked at me, and I could see tears forming at the edge of his eyes.

    ¡°I . . . won?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you won.¡±

    He just burst out crying, and I pulled him back in for another hug.  This wasn¡¯t how I¡¯d expected things to go, but it wasn¡¯t too bad.  Once again I didn¡¯t push, I just waited giving him the time he needed to get it out of his system.  After a bit, he went quiet, then pulled back and looked up at me.

    ¡°So . . . now what?¡±

    Now what indeed.  My first impulse was to offer him a spot on my team.  After all, he was powerful and having a giant bear radiating fire and summoning iron spikes would be all kinds of awesome.  However, I ruthlessly crushed that impulse down.  He was a kid!  For God¡¯s sake, I should at least wait until he was legally old enough to drink before I even thought of dragging him into life-or-death fights with supernatural beings!  I mean. Sure, he¡¯d already been fighting them, but I wasn¡¯t going to drag him back to that, not as long as I had a working conscience anyway.

    ¡°Well . . . first thing we¡¯re going to do is get in touch with your parents.  I know you wanted them to be safe, but I promise you, they¡¯re worried sick about you.  It¡¯s part of being a parent, or at least a decent one.¡±

    I saw guilt touch his eyes before he looked down.

    ¡°I left them a letter,¡± He mumbled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to hear from you,¡± I promised. ¡°Just be prepared to get an earful as well.¡±

    He winced but nodded.

    ¡°Hey, at least you¡¯re not the only one that can look forward to some . . . stern words,¡± I offered, trying to smile as I did so, though I think it might have come out as more of a grimace. ¡°I know I¡¯m definitely going to get yelled at soon.¡±

    ¡°Huh?  Why?¡±

    I paused for a moment, then decided that I wasn¡¯t going to just leave him ignorant.  I knew that I¡¯d have hated being kept in the dark.

    ¡°During the fight where we rescued you, I made a bad mistake.  I ended up losing King Arthur¡¯s scabbard.¡±

    He just looked at me, his eyes wide.

    ¡°Yeah, what makes it worse is that I¡¯ve got Sir Lancelot here, and I bet that he¡¯s going to give me an earful about that that¡¯ll make your parents look like rank amateurs.¡±

    ¡°Lancelot?¡±

    ¡°Yep, and trust me, he is not going to be happy with me.¡±

    Wasn¡¯t that the truth?  Still, I did have a few aces up my sleeves, which was probably the only reason I wasn¡¯t too worried about my neck being introduced to Arondight¡¯s edge.

    As though summoned by my thoughts there was a knock on the door, then Joan in.  She was still in her armour, though it had repaired itself of any battle damage and once more looked pristine, and looked every inch the warrior saint that she was.

    ¡°Adam, you are awake.¡±

    I nodded to her, gesturing to the younger demigod next to me.

    ¡°Yeah, and so is Mato here.  Where are we?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a clinic,¡± She explained. ¡°It doubles as an emergency hospital, so there was room for you two when we arrived.  We are in a small town, not too far from the site of our battle.¡±

    ¡°Is everyone okay?¡±

    ¡°Oui, as you might have guessed Sir Lancelot is not in the best of temperaments, but all members of our group are of sound body.  Honoured Hadriel was struck by the dragon but has since recovered.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    As I got off the bed I felt something snap in one of my trainers.  I took an experimental step and noticed that part of the sole had come loose.

    ¡°Once we¡¯ve sorted out what we¡¯re going to do I¡¯m going to need to do some shopping,¡± I noted, tugging at a sleeve that was half scorched.

    ¡°Sensible,¡± Joan agreed. ¡°However you will need to first discuss matters with our allies.  Fair warning, it may not be the most pleasant task.¡±

    ¡°Lancelot?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s fair, I guess,¡± I acknowledged.  I¡¯d made promises, I was going to have to own up to my screw-ups.  That didn¡¯t mean I was looking forward to it.

    ¡°Can . . . can I come?¡±

    Mato¡¯s question surprised me.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Look I . . . can I come to this?  I don¡¯t know if I can help, but I might know some stuff.  I was being chased by the Hunt for weeks, I think I know some stuff about them.¡±

    My first instinct was to say no.  He was a kid, for god¡¯s sake!  He should be at home, trying to avoid homework, playing, having fun.  He shouldn¡¯t be part of some sort of war council!

    But . . . hadn¡¯t he earned this?  Not to be a part of it, he sure as hell was too young for that, but at least to be given some consideration, right?  He¡¯d been hounded by the Hunt for weeks, and then he¡¯d fought them.  I¡¯d been there, I¡¯d seen how strong he was.  He¡¯d been a freakin¡¯ juggernaut, and if he¡¯d been fighting anything other than immortals then it would have been carnage.  He had power and he had skills, that deserved recognition and he deserved some respect.

    ¡°I can¡¯t promise we¡¯ll agree with everything,¡± I admitted. ¡°But you can join, and at least we¡¯ll listen, I promise you that.¡±

    He nodded, and I had to hold back a smile as I realised he was trying to be . . .  Serious?  Professional?  Whatever it was, he was making an honest try of it, and he didn¡¯t deserve to get laughed at.  Instead I turned to Joan.

    ¡°Okay, once more into the breach, I guess.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Joan followed Adam and the young demigod into the room where the others waited.  The clinic had been built next to some sort of institute, and a conference room had been available for their use.  The room in question was large, well furnished and even had a whiteboard fitted to one wall.  Unfortunately, the atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, most of it coming from the knight who surged to his feet almost as soon as her charge stepped through the door.

    ¡°YOU!¡± There was no hiding the accusation in his tone, nor the barely repressed anger. ¡°The scabbard was lost!  You had it in your hands, and it was taken from you!¡±

    As much as she wished to defend Adam, Joan understood Sir Lancelot¡¯s grievance and frustration.  He had been reluctant to endanger the sheath, and what had happened was almost exactly what he had feared.  In response to the knight¡¯s words, the winged demigod grimaced as he awkwardly sat down in a chair, his wings having to bend sharply to let him sit at all.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly planning on getting blindsided by a dragon!¡±

    As far as reasons for failure went the resurrected saint had to privately admit that an unexpected attack from an elder dragon was one of the more excusable.  Lancelot seemed to be of a different opinion.

    ¡°Do you think that matters?!¡± Angrily the knight started pacing back and forth, as though trying to burn off energy to keep his anger from overwhelming him. ¡°The scabbard is gone!  The Hunt has it, and they are most likely fleeing into Russia by now!  By the time we find them again, they will have sold it to any who can give them the best price for it!  Do you intend to hunt it across the world until you can return it to my king?!¡±

    No. The simple fact was that Adam could not allow himself to be caught blindly adhering to a single task, no matter how worthy.  His destiny was wider than that, even if Joan did not know the full shape of it.  Her charge was meant to help establish and safeguard the peace of the world.  The Wild Hunt were powerful, but they could also be elusive, and the scabbard might well prove even harder to locate once sold.  But if Adam refused he might well make a deadly enemy of Sir Lancelot, and King Arthur himself, the guardian of his own home nations!

    This was bad.  There had to be something she could do!  Perhaps if she contacted the High Heavens once more?  Could another oracle help?  What if-

    ¡°We won¡¯t have to blindly search for it.  Athena?¡±

    Her charge¡¯s calm reply halted her thoughts as she looked at him, then followed his gaze towards the Greek goddess.  Zeus¡¯ daughter held up a hand, a small globe of light with something flickering within it appearing and then fading away after a few moments.  During that time Athena gazed into it with a surprising intensity before letting it fade.

    ¡°The Hunt has not left the country yet.  After they fled they made for the east.  I believe they are trying to make their way towards Germany, possibly Belgium.  With the rise of the sun, they have gone to ground, and they are not so far that we may not catch up to them.¡±

    For a moment there was silence.  Lancelot had frozen in place, Hadriel was glancing back and forth between Adam and Athena, and even Kali seemed slightly taken aback.

    ¡°How?¡±

    The Knight of the Round Table was the one to voice the question, voice slightly strained as he did his best to maintain his composure.

    ¡°All credit to Athena here.  She suggested that we plan for the worst, for the chance that we might lose the scabbard, so she whipped up a tracking spell that we stuffed inside it.  We can use that to track it, so we¡¯re not out of the running yet!¡±

    Though her charge was doing his best to present a calm front Joan was sure she could detect a hint of satisfaction in his tone.  I suppose that having a valid rebuttal to Sir Lancelot¡¯s justified outrage was something he took pleasure in?  A small and harmless mischief I supposed, but something that bore taking note of.

    ¡°Adam is too modest,¡± Athena commented, nodding to our shared charge. ¡°The use of the tracking charm was his suggestion.  I merely advised him to be prepared for the loss of the sheath.  He asked if I could create such a spell, and when I confirmed it was within my ability it was he that thought to hide it inside the scabbard.¡±

    Interesting.  When did this take place?  I knew they had spent some time discussing potential strategies, had it been then?  Regardless, it was good that Adam was showing such initiative.  One of Joan¡¯s concerns had been that with some many powerful allies, he would be unwilling to take a more active leading role.  It would seem some hints of leadership, or at least trying to stand on an equal footing, were showing themselves.

    ¡°But . . . will the spell not be discovered?  There are many in the Wild Hunt that have their own knowledge of spells and sorcery, will they not sense it?¡±

    Lancelot¡¯s concern was an understandable worry.  Were that to take place then they could be sent on a wild goose chase while the Hunt made a clean escape.

    ¡°The spell I employed was a subtle one,¡± Athena assured them. ¡°Rather than exploiting a constant link or sending a signal my crafting exploits sympathetic resonance.  I can determine its location without alerting even those Hunters who have skills in magic.  However, it is not perfect.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    The question came from Hadriel, who had been silent until now.

    ¡°If the two parts of the spell are separated by sufficient distance then the resonance will end.  We must prevent the Hunt from fleeing too far or we shall lose them.¡±

    ¡°What manner of distances do you mean?¡±

    This time it was Lancelot who spoke the question, his gauntleted hands restlessly clenching as he did so.

    ¡°Just under six hundred miles,¡± Athena spoke with all the professional conduct of a general addressing their government. ¡°A great distance for mortals, but we are all aware of how swiftly we could move ourselves if we wished.  The Wild Hunt can achieve similar speeds, the only reason they have not has been that their clashes with us have cost them power, and they need to take time to recover.  Once their full power they can travel at hundreds of miles an hour, enough to make catching them a nightmare.¡±

    There was a moment of silence as they digested her words, then Adam stood up.

    ¡°Okay, so we¡¯re working with a timer.  We know where they are and we can catch up to them, so we¡¯re gonna do that, agreed?¡±

    Nobody voiced any disagreements, so he took a step around the table so he could face the rest of the room¡¯s occupants at once.

    ¡°The question is: what do we do when we catch up to them?  We¡¯ve fought them twice so far, and each time they¡¯ve come away with more of a win than us.¡±

    That was sadly true.  Though they had never been defeated by the Hunt, each battle had left them in a poor position.  Firstly when they took Mato as a hostage, then when they escaped with the scabbard.  Each time they not only denied their enemies a victory, they also placed them on the back foot.  They had also managed some minor psychological wins, such as leaving Hadriel unsettled after facing the effigy of Satan or leaving Kali highly unsatisfied with how her last battle had ended.  Bringing out a dragon at the last moment was daunting all on its own, something else to consider.

    ¡°How do we fix that?¡±

    Adam spoke the question with a certain amount of determination that seemed . . . enthusiastic.  It was hard to fully understand, to pin down exactly how it was done, but somehow he had dispelled much of the tension that had been choking the room before.  Instead, there was the beginnings of . . . interest?  Eagerness?

    ¡°Both our previous clashes our poor performance was mainly caused by surprise,¡± Hadriel was the first one to speak up, offering a view that Joan certainly agreed with. ¡°Phantoms of previous members of the Wild Hunt, new members we had not yet seen, even the arrival of a truly mighty dragon, there was little way to prepare for any of these.¡±

    ¡°Wotan was able to stonewall me some, but that crazy woman I fought . . . she was something else,¡± Kali commented. ¡°If I have to fight her again I¡¯m ready though, her tricks won¡¯t work again.  Still, both times they¡¯ve made good choices on who should take me on.¡±

    And was not that the truth?  It made sense though, as matters stood the Hindu goddess was the mightiest amongst them, as far as raw power went.  It made sense that the Hunt would do their best to keep her occupied if they could not take her off the board.  Wotan was a version of Odin, a god known for his cunning and versatility.  His rune magic had led to entire schools of magic for mortals, and he knew more runes than just about any other being in existence, even a phantom of him would have been a formidable challenge.  As for the old woman that had attacked Kali the night before . . . Joan knew nothing. She was nobody the saint recognised, which was strange since anyone able to stalemate the Black One, even if only for a few minutes, should have been worthy of a few legends.

    ¡°I do not believe they shall have any surprises left to employ against us should we face them once more,¡± Athena commented. ¡°During our last battle, they had too much to gain by victory and too much to lose to make hiding trump cards worth it.  We have already seen what they have, their champions and their hidden powers.  They have their strengths, but they have lost the element of surprise.¡±

    Joan nodded in agreement.  It was a relatively simple analysis, but it was also very accurate.  It was unlikely that any new players would enter the game at this point, all they had to concern themselves with was desperation tactics from those they had already faced.  Well, that was hardly ¡®all¡¯ since their foes were gods, demigods and monsters from legend.  Still, it was less so than completely new threats out of nowhere.

    ¡°That still leaves us with a lot to deal with,¡± Adam opined. ¡°Still, I think we can handle it.¡±

    Turning he glanced at the board and then grabbed a pen on a ledge below it. He reached for it . . . then paused.

    ¡°You know,¡± He commented as he turned back to them all. ¡°I was just about to start listing out all the enemies we¡¯ve got to face, like Herne and that dragon, but you know what?  I think that¡¯s overthinking things.¡±

    He gestured out at the rest of them, one of his wings following his arm and stirring up a small breeze, lending his action a greater emphasis.

    ¡°Look, you¡¯ve all fought them, you¡¯ve got a good idea of what we¡¯re up against, and every single one of you has a much better idea of what you¡¯re doing than I do.¡±  That last was said with self-deprecating humour. ¡°I can line up names and ask for suggestions on strategies and try and throw out some ideas I¡¯ve stolen from films or books that won¡¯t make me look stupid, but is it really worth it?

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to try any grand ambush or elaborate surgical strike, that doesn¡¯t play to our strengths, does it? So, I¡¯ve just got one idea, tell me what you think of it, okay?¡±

    He paused for a moment, then, when Kali offered an enthusiastic nod of her head and Hadriel also inclined her head, he continued.

    ¡°Let''s go blitzkrieg on their asses!¡±

    There was another pause, then Kali¡¯s mouth spread in a grin that would have made a hungry hyena proud.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re speaking my language!¡±

    For her part, Joan was momentarily confused by the choice of a German word in Adam¡¯s statement.  Yes, she knew what it meant, she knew every language on Earth after all, but she was unsure as to what use a ¡®Lightning War¡¯ would be.  Did Adam intend to summon a storm and harness its power?  Yes, a rain of lightning could be devastating, but given the Wild Hunt¡¯s ability to recover it might not be an effective tactic.

    No . . . wait.  A memory sparked at the back of her mind, of her familiarising herself with how her home country had fallen to the Nazis during the last World War.  Blitzkrieg was a military tactic that relied upon the rapid movement of concentrated forces to defeat an enemy overwhelmingly.  The sheer speed and impact of such a tactic delivered psychological damage as well as physical damage.

    That meant-

    ¡°Forgive me, I do not recognise this term.  What tactic does it signify?¡±

    Hadriel asked for clarification, and the winged demigod replied.

    ¡°It means we hit them hard and fast!  No picking our targets, no trying to play Rock-Paper-Scissors with powers, we just go in and do as much damage as fast as we can and then pick the scabbard out of the ashes and leave while the Hunt is still trying to put itself back together.¡±

    ¡°Simple but effective,¡± Hadriel commented, nodding her approval.

    ¡°No plan survives contact with the enemy, right?  Make the plan simple enough and I might be able to prove that wrong.¡±

    ¡°No plan is foolproof,¡± Lancelot opined. ¡°Even if there are no fools upon your side, there will be fools upon the other.  Still, I believe this idea has merit.  If we deny the Hunt the chance to retaliate, to bring their greater numbers to bear and keep their champions upon the back foot then we may well be able to snatch away the scabbard.¡±

    Adam nodded, then paused and frowned.

    ¡°How hard do you think it¡¯ll be?  Will they have the scabbard with them, or will it be in a safe or something?¡±

    ¡°Highly unlikely,¡± Athena replied. ¡°The Wild Hunt is nomadic by nature, they rest in shadows during the day and rarely form any sort of camp.  The closest thing to structures they possess are tents that are erected when they hold some manner of ceremony or celebration.  The scabbard will be kept as a personal property, something to be held and carried around.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯d have the scabbard anyway?  Herne?  The dragon?  One of the others?¡±

    It was Kali who asked the question.

    ¡°That could be important,¡± Adam agreed. ¡°If it¡¯s someone tough enough to survive our first strikes then they might be able to get away.¡±

    ¡°It will be the dragon.¡± The statement was calmly delivered by Sir Lancelot. ¡°A treasure such as the scabbard, all its instincts will scream at it to hold onto it, even if only until they can reach the one they wish to sell it to.  Also, I do not believe that any of the others can match the dragon in terms of pure endurance.  All that muscle and scales are not for show, even a god  such as Herne is fragile by comparison.¡±

    ¡°Where will it keep the scabbard?¡± Joan asked. ¡°It is not as though it has a belt from which to hang it.¡±

    ¡°Dragons had a hollow space in their mouths,¡± The Knight of the Round Table explained. ¡°It acts as a pouch where they can store things they wish to carry without swallowing.  They normally use it to carry such treasure as gold, jewels or the like.  The scabbard will be in there I wager.¡±

    ¡°In a dragon¡¯s mouth?¡± Adam looked bemused at that, even a bit more so when Sir Lancelot nodded. ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s probably safer than a safe.¡±

    ¡°Did anyone catch the dragon¡¯s name?¡± Kali asked. ¡°Because I never knew that a giant winged lizard could look that swole.¡±

    ¡°Loraxis.¡±

    ¡°Adam?¡± Joan asked.

    ¡°That was what that guy, Ravananaer, called the dragon.  Loraxis.¡±

    ¡°Is the name familiar to any of you?¡± It was Athena who asked, glancing around, only to receive shaken heads in return. ¡°Strange.  It is clearly a mighty specimen of its race, but I do not recall hearing such a name in legend.¡±

    ¡°It is rare for dragons to remain unknown,¡± Lancelot agreed. ¡°Their egos normally do not allow them to even entertain the idea of anonymity.¡±

    ¡°Well, every race has its outliers, right?¡± Adam suggested. ¡°I mean, surely one dragon worked out that if you stick your neck out someone¡¯s going to take a swing at it, right?¡±

    ¡°Colourfully put, but not inaccurate,¡± Athena commented. ¡°That simply makes it a more dangerous threat.  Dragons are powerful, but a dragon that can control its ego is something else entirely.¡±

    There was a moment of silence, which was then broken as Kali spoke up.

    ¡°Wait, that guy you fought was called Ravananaer?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Adam confirmed. ¡°He said he was a son of Ravana.  Ever heard of him?¡±

    ¡°Nope.  As far as I know, none of Ravana¡¯s kids survived the war with Rama.  He might just be lying, trying to leech off Ravana¡¯s rep.¡±

    The winged demigod shook his head at her suggestion.

    ¡°He was strong, and he was smart.  If it weren¡¯t for him I wouldn¡¯t have lost the scabbard.  He¡¯s not the worst I¡¯ve fought, but he¡¯s dangerous, y¡¯know?  I don¡¯t think a guy like that¡¯d be coasting on someone else¡¯s rep.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Kali¡¯s interest was clear, as she sat up and grinned. ¡°Maybe some of his blood survives then.  Well, that means there''s just one more guy it¡¯ll be fun to fight.¡±

    ¡°Before we continue,¡± Athena spoke up. ¡°I do not believe you have introduced us to your young friend.  We have been so focused on retrieving the scabbard that we have not paid him any attention.¡±

    The younger demigod had followed Adam and Joan to this room, but he had remained by the door, half hidden by a large bookshelf nearby.  At the goddess''s words, he stepped out, his posture uncertain but not afraid.  Adam smiled at the boy, then gestured to him.

    ¡°This is Mato Carran, a Legacy of Bear, Amaterasu and Ogun.¡±

    Three Legacies?  Joan felt her eyes widen in surprise, and she noted that she was not the only one to take notice.  Athena was evaluating the boy like a soldier present with an unfamiliar weapon, Hadriel was notably curious, Lancelot seemed taken aback, and Kali appeared vaguely amused.  She could understand their reactions.  Amaterasu was a powerful god of the Shinto pantheon, one with powerful political ties as well as being highly revered even in the modern day.  Ogun was less well known but was still a deity with surprisingly deep roots.  Bear . . . few deities were as elemental as that spirit, a being tied to the concept that was its name.

    A powerful trio of Legacies, it was hardly a surprise that the Wild Hunt had tried to snatch him away.

    ¡°Ah . . . hi?¡±

    The young boy offered a slightly strained smile to the room, half raising his hand, then lowering it.  There was a pause, then Sir Lancelot stepped forward.

    ¡°Well met, young demigod,¡± The knight offered. ¡°I . . . I am sad that we lost my king¡¯s scabbard, but do not believe I am unhappy we were able to free you.  There are few I would find deserving of being subject to the Wild Hunt''s tender mercies.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve got mercy?¡±

    There was a pause as everyone looked at the starstruck boy who was gazing at the Knight of the Round Table with wide eyes.  Eyes that widened further as he realised that he had apparently spoken his thoughts aloud without meaning to.  There was a moment of panic, but it faded as a small chuckle escaped Sir Lancelot¡¯s lips.

    ¡°It mostly depends upon their leader, but they have been known to show mercy before.  I do not believe it shall be a factor for us though, so we should not rely upon it.¡±

    Athena broke in, explaining what the knight had meant.  Mato looked at her and nodded.  He then paused for a moment then turned and faced Adam.

    ¡°I want to help!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    The winged demigod seemed to be taken off guard by the statement and voiced the question without thinking.

    ¡°You¡¯re all going to attack the Hunt, right?  I want to help.¡±

    Her charge seemed to be momentarily stunned, then brought up his arms and formed them into an ¡®X¡¯ across his chest.

    ¡°No kid!  No, no, nope!  This¡¯s going to be dangerous!  Understand?!

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty powerful, and I¡¯m literally the most fragile guy here!  Kali¡¯s terrifying, Athena¡¯s a goddess that¡¯s been kicking ass since before books were a thing, Hadriel¡¯s an angel that eats demons for breakfast and Joan can turn into an angel that eats demons for breakfast!  We¡¯re going after the Hunt because the worst they can do is get away from us with the scabbard, but if you come along then the worst they can do is keep the scabbard and take you with them!¡±

    ¡°Adam, you know I do not eat.¡±

    The look that he sent Hadriel was equal parts confusion and disbelief, and privately Joan was pleased at how familiar Adam had grown with the angel.

    ¡°Not really relevant right now, Hadriel.¡±

    ¡°Look, what if I go in my bear form?  You know I¡¯m strong like that!  And if I¡¯m not alone then I won¡¯t go down like I did against Herne, right?¡±

    The boy, Mato, was not willing to let go of the discussion, and Adam turned back to face him.

    ¡°Kid . . . that¡¯s brave, no denying that.  But you¡¯re not really expecting me to say yes, right?¡±

    The boy¡¯s eyes narrowed, and Joan felt the temperature in the room start to noticeably rise as tiny glowing cracks started to spread from the corners of the younger demigod¡¯s eyes, as though his skin were only just covering a molten core.

    ¡°They hunted me!  For days!  For nights!  They hurt me and made me run and I couldn¡¯t do anything!¡±  ¡°If you¡¯re going to fight them then I want in!¡±

    Adam came around the table until he was only a few steps from the boy, meeting his eyes.

    ¡°But . . . don¡¯t you want to go home?  Don¡¯t you at least want to get back to your family?¡±

    Mato grimaced, but he also relaxed, the cracks fading and the sudden heat fading with them.

    ¡°I can do that later!  I can call them today, let them know I¡¯m okay, but I¡¯m going to hurt those assholes!¡±

    Again, the room fell silent as the two demigods stared at each other, the Adam spoke.

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°ADAM!?¡±

    The word burst out of Joan before she had a chance to hold it back.  What was he thinking?  This was a child!  And he was going to let him charge into a battlefield?  Had she completely misunderstood her charge?  For his part the winged demigod looked over to her, then very clearly glanced back to the kid.

    ¡°Kid, tell me the truth.  If I say no are you going to do something stupid, like sneak out after us?¡±

    Mato did not reply, simply offering a look somewhere between sullen and defiant.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about what I thought,¡± Adam replied. ¡°So, if you¡¯re going to get there one way or another . . .¡±

    He stepped forward and put a hand on the younger demigod¡¯s shoulder, looking down at him from his greater height.

    ¡°If you come with us then we can at least tell where you are.  But listen . . .¡± Adam leaned down, looking Mato in the eyes, gold meeting honey brown. ¡°If you come with us then you¡¯re going to do what we say, got it?  I¡¯m not joking here.  If I think you¡¯re going to do something stupid that could get you captured or killed then I¡¯m going to have Athena hit you with a snoozing spell that¡¯ll have you out cold like Sleeping Beauty, understand?¡±

    There was another pause, and the younger demigod nodded.

    ¡°Good, because if you¡¯re coming with us then you¡¯re going to listen to us!¡±

    ¡°Is this the wisest choice?¡±

    It was Hadriel who asked the question, but Adam just shrugged at her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but hopefully it¡¯s the one that won¡¯t blow up in our faces.¡±

    ¡°Then the plan is set, and we have a new ally,¡± Athena commented. ¡°We shall have some time to rest, but we must be ready for when we confront the Hunt once more.¡±

    There were nods all around, and Adam turned to the room¡¯s door.

    ¡°Okay, on that note, I¡¯m heading to the shops.  I don¡¯t know about you guys, but I¡¯ve got some shopping to do.¡±

    To emphasize the point he lifted one of his shoes, showing that the sole was half hanging off.  He also glanced at Mato.

    ¡°How about you, kid?  I don¡¯t want to be mean, but I think you could also use some new threads and a decent meal.¡±

    It was true, the poor boy looked as though he¡¯d been wearing the same clothes for weeks.  They certainly smelled as though they had.

    Evidently, Mato thought the same, because he grimaced and nodded.  Adam smiled at him as he gestured grandly, as though trying to impress an audience.

    ¡°Okay, let''s head out and find the best this place has to offer!  Onwards my minion!¡±

    His joke managed to draw a smile from the boy, and Joan watched as they left.  Hopefully, this would end well, but she offered up a silent prayer for her charge, just to be on the safe side.

 Chapter 15: Discussions and Preparations: Part Two

    Chapter 15: Discussions and Preparations: Part Two

    Hadriel watched her charge and the other young demigod leave.

    Part of her felt that she should follow him, but other matters needed her attention, and it was not as though he would be going far.  This town was fairly small, just a small collection of stores, a couple of bars and a little cinema.  Adam would not be far, and if she sensed any sort of danger from him she could be there in seconds.

    That gave her some time.  Time she needed to speak with the resurrected soul.

    ¡°Lady Joan, may we speak?¡±

    ¡°Certainly, what did you wish to talk about?¡±

    The angel gestured to the door and began to drift towards it.

    ¡°Please, follow me.¡±

    They made their way onto the roof area, Hadriel with her wings, Joan with a single superhuman leap.  The roof was gravelled and accessible from within, but the door was slightly rusted through lack of use, making this as good a location as any other to speak.  Both of them stood near the edge of the building, looking out over the town, watching the hustle and bustle that seemed to be making a conscious effort to stay away from the building they stood on.

    ¡°Adam was . . . unexpectedly decisive today.¡±

    Hadriel made her observation carefully, curious as to how the saint would respond.

    ¡°Indeed, but it is surely a good sign.  I had hoped that he would develop the traits of leadership, and this is an indication that he may do so.¡±

    The crimson-winged angel agreed, but that was not what she had been asking about.

    ¡°Did you sense it?¡±

    ¡°Excusez-moi?¡±

    The resurrected saint looked at her with confusion.  In response, Hadriel gestured out to the town, where the signature of Adam¡¯s power burned with easy-to-sense might.

    ¡°Something has changed with our charge.  I had felt it before after he returned from his mission in the forest, but it feels more . . . pronounced.¡±

    Lady Joan looked form the angel to the town, and back, a frown touching her face as Hadriel sensed her reaching out with her own powers, studying the signature of their charge.

    ¡°I have not sensed anything in particular from him,¡± Joan stated, drawing her power back into herself. ¡°He has grown stronger, but is that not him simply growing to control his divine powers?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Hadriel¡¯s rebuttal was immediate, emphasised by her halo crackling with a tiny current of lightning. ¡°There is something more at play here.  Adam has been strong since he came into his power, but that strength has been . . . . blunted.  Now it feels . . .¡±

    She paused unsure of how to continue.

    ¡°I have felt nothing of difference from him.  Can you describe what you feel?¡±

    Hadriel felt a spike of frustration at the question.  Did she believe it was that easy?  If the angel were more certain she would not be so hesitant.

    ¡°It is hard to put into words.  His divinity has not grown, but it feels as though it is no longer . . . overshadowed.  As his divinity has become clearer his power has been released, unshackled.  Not merely his power, have you not noticed how he has conducted himself since we left the Sanctuary?

    ¡°His level of confidence has been unexpected, I must admit¡± Lady Joan agreed. ¡°Adam is no coward, but I had not thought he would take to combat as smoothly as he has done.  I would have expected some more hesitation and uncertainty in the face of violence.  Yet he has entered combat with the Wild Hunt twice, facing death or worse on each occasion, and he shows no trepidation at doing so a third time.¡±

    That was something worth consideration.  It had not occurred to Hadriel, since as an angel uncertainty had never been an issue for her.  She knew that she was a soldier from the instant she came into being.  Fear, hesitation, she had never experienced any such feelings.  As someone who had lived a mortal life, one relatively sheltered from violence, it was understandable why Adam would hesitate in the face of it, yet he had not.  That was something, but it was not what Hadriel meant.  What made it more frustrating was that it was a . . . a part of it.

    ¡°It is strange.  Not necessarily an unwanted development, but it is strange.  It is as though . . . I cannot put it into words.  This is frustrating.  I never fully understood how his Awakening had been imperfect.  His power was there, but his control was not, but that could be remedied by training.  But as we trained he continued to reveal new powers and abilities, seemingly out of nowhere.  I feel that despite our efforts he is still . . . incomplete, unfinished.  I feel I should be able to see the completed picture and help guide him to it, but that final design is based upon a logic I cannot grasp.¡±

    The angel disliked this, this uncertainty, this incomplete understanding.  It was not something she was familiar with.  Hers was a life of certainties, of knowing who her enemy was, of what her duties were, and of where her loyalties lay.  All else was of minimal importance.  That was how she liked things, this . . . being forced to think and puzzle outside of her normal needs and behaviour was unsettling.

    ¡°Regardless, I do believe these changes are for the better.¡± Joan¡¯s words interrupted Hadriel¡¯s thought, but she nodded in agreement. ¡°What do you think of young Mato?¡±

    ¡°Unexpected,¡± Hadriel had known they would encounter more demigods as time passed, but for the first to be one so powerful and so young was not what she had anticipated.  ¡°Three bloodlines, and powerful ones at that.  You saw the aftermath of when he fought side by side with Adam.  That boy is favoured by his divine progenitors, their marks are like a weight he wears with pride.  He is powerful, and shall only grow more so with time and tempering.¡±

    ¡°What do you think of Adam¡¯s decision to bring him with us?¡± The resurrected soul asked.

    It was not an unexpected question.

    ¡°I believe it is not the ideal choice, but it is the one that shall cause the fewest difficulties,¡± Hadriel relied.  ¡°The boy seems determined to be part of the attack upon the Hunt, determined enough that if he is denied he shall try to make his own way there, regardless of our wishes.  Better to have him where we can see him, Adam is correct in that regard.¡±

    ¡°He is a child.¡±

    The angel was surprised at how sharply the saint spoke her reply.

    ¡°He is a demigod with he power to raze this town to the ground with ease.  A child he may be, but he cannot be treated as one.¡±

    ¡°You know much about the raising of children?¡±

    Joan¡¯s reply was less sharp than her earlier words, but there was still a note of . . . condemnation?  Defiance?  Hadriel was unsure, but she was somewhat surprised to hear it from the resurrected saint.  Lady Joan was normally highly respectful and deferential to the angel, for her to take such a tone . . .  Still, Hadriel preferred it to subservience.  After all, a spirited discussion always produced better results than simply having the other party blindly agree.

    ¡°I know about power.  If it is not respected then it shall inevitably lead to ruin.  That boy has power and so he must be respected.  That does not mean his every whim must be bent to, but his voice should be heard and answered.¡±

    Her words must have hit home because a grimace touched the saint¡¯s face before she replied.

    ¡°He should be returned to his parents.¡±

    ¡°Parents who are mortal.  Parents who might love him, but who have no idea of how to raise him to control his powers, nor who can enforce any sort of discipline upon him.  What little I have seen shows me a boy with courage and determination, but one so young can easily be swallowed up by the temptations offered by the power he has.  How easy is it for a boy, or even a young man, to run wild when there are all too few who can, or even dare, to say no to him?¡±

    Hadriel might be distant from humanity in general, but even she knew of how power could corrupt the young, especially when their parents or other authority figures lacked the power to rein them in.

    ¡°I cannot say that you are wrong,¡± Lady Joan admitted. ¡°Still, I find myself unhappy with this situation.  He is so young.¡±

    ¡°Were you not also called at an early age?¡±

    ¡°I was at least a young woman when called to serve!  I was old enough to marry, to have children and to make my own choices.  This boy . . . if he is past his thirteenth year I would be astonished.¡±

    ¡°I confess that I have some trouble fully connecting to your feelings,¡± Hadriel admitted, her red wings fluttering slightly as a warm breeze passed over them. ¡°I entered battle less than a day after I was created.  It was my role, my purpose, my reason for being, and I welcomed it.  I know that mortals are different, but I imagine it is similar to how a mortal knows that a fish can swim in the darkest depths, something they know but do not truly empathise with.  To me the boy is old enough to wield his power, to run and to choose, so he is old enough to fight and kill if needs be.  And needs may well be.¡±

    Joan grimaced again, turning from the angel to look out over the town as she spoke.

    ¡°This is a strange age we find ourselves in.  Once, the Almighty and his angels were my whole world, now there are so many other gods, demigods, creatures of myth that I never thought to meet, and I am here, helping to fight them.¡±

    ¡°The mortals of this age have a saying that I think is oddly appropriate,¡± Hadriel commented in return. ¡°The reward for work well done is more work.  You served well before, now you are called to serve again.¡±

    ¡°And I do so readily.¡±

    Silence descended on the roof as both Heavenly agents stared out at the town.  There had not been any real resolution to their discussion, but as things stood they had at least reached a point without contention.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Ah . . . er, yes . . . that will be . . . four hundred and twenty-seven euros . . . please?¡±

    I had to hand it to the cashier, she might have stuttered and flattered a bit here and there, but she held it together commendably well.  Sure, she¡¯d looked stunned enough to make you think that someone had just slapped her with a live trout when she first got a good look at me, but she hadn¡¯t gone crazy like those people had when we arrived at Le Havre.  My private theory was that having me there was bad enough, but when you added in Kali and Athena, both of whom were literally supernaturally beautiful, as well as Joan and Hadriel, who could put most supermodels to shame, you got stuff like that crazy riot.

    Just me on my own was more manageable, at least enough that people simply went nonverbal when they saw me, as opposed to Looney Toons fan crazy.  I got a lot of stares, stuttering, and pictures being taken.  I was pretty sure the wings also had something to do with me not getting mobbed.  The appearance of an angel made me seem somewhat . . . otherworldly?  Divine?  Whatever it was it wasn¡¯t too approachable, and honestly, I was okay with that.  At least it made my life a bit easier.

    So, yeah, I got a lot of attention, but not too much interaction, which meant Mato and I were able to get our shopping done with minimal interference.

    Our first stop had been a big clothes store.  It hadn¡¯t been one of those that sold all the most fashionable brands or latest trends, but it had the advantage of lots of choices to work with, and that suited me fine.

    It had taken some time, but I¡¯d bought us both a whole new wardrobe.  We both needed everything, even replacements right down to out scorched underwear.  Using the changing rooms had been a bit of a challenge for me, what with my wings and all, but I¡¯d managed it in the end.  Some TK had been needed to cut some slits into the back of the T-shirt I chose, but apart from that everything had gone okay.  Fresh trainers, some spare socks and underwear, a rucksack, and I was feeling a good deal less like I¡¯d just crawled out of a warzone.

    That brought us back to the poor overwhelmed cashier, as I handed her the clothing labels one by one after I tore them from the clothes I was wearing so she could mark them up.

    Still, it finally gave me a chance to use one of the cards that I¡¯d gotten from Zeus, without giving anything away.  After all, I was just buying clothes, hardly critical information. Everything went through, and the cashier only got distracted by my wings once.  It was as I turned to leave that an idea struck me.

    ¡°Hey, is there a sports centre in town?  Or a health club, something like that.¡±

    She blinked at me, her eyes slightly unfocused, then managed to shake off her distraction and looked at me more clearly.

    ¡°Um . . . yeah.  There¡¯s a club just on the other side of town.¡±

    ¡°Has it got a pool?  A sauna?  That kind of stuff?¡±

    ¡°. . . yes?¡±

    Turning around I grabbed two pairs of swimming trunks off a nearby display, eyeballing the sizes, and a couple of beach towels as well, then slapped them down on the countertop.

    ¡°Great!  We¡¯ll be taking these as well!¡± I declared.

    One more payment later and Mato was following me as I strode down the street towards the sports club the cashier had directed me to, me carrying a couple of bags and with my new rucksack slung over one shoulder.  It was actually a bit weird, just walking.  When I was outdoors I¡¯d gotten into the habit of using flight to get anywhere I wanted quickly, but with my fellow demigod walking with me that wasn¡¯t really an option.  Well, I suppose I could have lifted him with telekinesis and carried him along, but I didn¡¯t have too much practice with that particular use of my power.  It was one thing to move him a couple of feet, like back onto his bed, it was another thing to carry him through the air, and I didn¡¯t want to risk using Mato as a test dummy.

    ¡°Hey, why¡¯re we going to a swimming pool?¡±

    The younger demigod asked me as he came up beside me.

    ¡°Because we both need a shower,¡± I explained. ¡°We¡¯ve both gone some time without one, and we smell more than a bit on the burnt side.  We don¡¯t want to get these new clothes too ripe, so we¡¯ve got to clean up.  Once we¡¯re done we can see about getting you a decent meal too.¡±

    That last bit seemed to perk his attention because I saw him straighten up.

    ¡°Hungry?¡± I asked the question without really thinking about it.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mato admitted, grimacing slightly. ¡°It¡¯s weird, I don¡¯t get hungry as fast as I used to, but I still feel a bit hungry all the time, y¡¯know? It¡¯s not as hard, but it wears you down.¡±

    ¡°Let''s get cleaned up, then we¡¯ll see about finding you some food, okay?¡±

    He nodded, and for a few moments, we walked in silence.

    ¡°Hey, why can¡¯t one of those goddesses just make you clothes out of nowhere?  You know, just ¡®poof¡¯ and there they are?¡±

    I grinned, as this gave me a chance to show off some.  I¡¯d spent some time talking with both Kali and Athena, trying to get a decent idea of what they could do.  I knew I hadn¡¯t done more than scratch the surface, divine powers like theirs couldn¡¯t just be put in neat little boxes like ¡®super strength¡¯, ¡®energy blasts¡¯ or ¡®enhanced senses¡¯.  Yeah, they had things like that, but they were all just facets of their divine nature, and that could get real complicated real fast.

    Take Kali, her nature could translate as the goddess of time, death, doomsday, destruction, violence, feminine energy, motherhood over the universe, and a whole bunch of other things.  But none of those were completely accurate, she was also something else, something that had flavours of lots of things but wasn¡¯t just them.  Calling her the goddess of Ruin was simply a shorthand, a simplification.  What that all meant was that while Kali could do a lot of things, from messing with time to flat-out deleting matter and energy from existence, magicking up clothes from nowhere wasn¡¯t in her wheelhouse.

    Athena . . . well, she had a different problem.

    ¡°Well, Kali couldn¡¯t, it''s not really one of her skills,¡± I explained. ¡°She¡¯s the goddess you want on your side in a fight, but snapping her fingers and making clothes pop out of the air just isn¡¯t in her wheelhouse.  Not even if you¡¯re asking for leather.¡±

    That got a grin out of him, so I continued.

    ¡°Now, Athena could make something for us, but only if you''re into ancient Greek fashions.  She¡¯s the goddess of Craft, but it¡¯s sort of locked in to when she was most worshipped.  That means she¡¯s great for stuff like bows, chariots, olive oil and handmade weaves, but not so good for anything more modern.  I¡¯m pretty sure I could pull off a toga, but I prefer trainers to sandals.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Mato nodded, then glanced over at me. ¡°Hey, do you think we¡¯ll have trouble using the pool?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well . . . they don¡¯t let pets into pools, right?  And your wings . . .¡±

    For a moment it just didn¡¯t click.  Then I got the joke and replied with exaggerated indignation.

    ¡°Hey!  I am not some pet pigeon!  And I¡¯ll have you know, I don¡¯t shed!¡±

    With that I crossed my arms and made an exaggerated pout as I turned my face away from Mato, every bit the image of a sulky teenager.  I managed to get another laugh out of the kid, and we continued our walk to the sports club trading bad jokes the whole way.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Emma leaned against a brick wall and let her back slowly slide down until she was sitting on the pavement.  She closed her eyes and let her head tilt back until it was also resting against the bricks.  Off to the side, she could see people passing the entrance to the alley she was in, but she knew none of them would notice her.  The same spells that kept her hidden from her pursuers kept them from registering her presence as well.

    She was tired.  She was so God damned tired.  It seemed to have soaked into her bones and left her drained of any energy.  Even the thought of just getting back on her feet and making her way back to the abandoned apartment she was currently using seemed as daunting a task as climbing a mountain.  Her arms slipped from her lap and flopped onto the dirty concrete, but she just didn¡¯t care.  At this very moment, it was taking all her remaining energy just to keep from falling asleep.

    The last few hours had been hard on her.  Making her way to the site of the last battle, making sure none of Adam¡¯s blood was left lying around, making sure none of that red-winged angel¡¯s blood was left lying around.  Then there¡¯d been scavenging what she could from the wrecked farmland, and making sure that no curses or infections seeped into the land.  Honestly, she didn¡¯t care too much about that last one, but she knew that Adam would have, so she¡¯d gone to extra mile just to make sure she could stay on his good side.

    Regardless, it probably was a good thing she¡¯d made sure to purge the area.  Somewhere in the fight, the Hunt had done something weird involving souls.  Normally that was bad.  Souls were powerful, and messing with them without serious precision and power involved almost always backfired.  The Wild Hunt had somehow thought it was a good idea to smash a whole bunch of souls from their members together to make some sort of aberrant hyper-condensed hybrid . . . thing!  Under almost any other circumstances the souls involved would have been destroyed, or at least horribly mutilated, but the infuriating immortality of the Hunt allowed them to somehow sidestep the consequences.  Those involved wouldn¡¯t be in good shape, but they¡¯d recover quickly even though it shouldn¡¯t be possible.

    All good for them, not so good for the battleground.

    Having souls, even inhuman souls, forced together like that, then torn forcefully apart as the being they composed was unmade . . . well, it was kind of like smashing chunks of highly radioactive uranium together, then blasting them with massive explosive force.  There was no big bang and mushroom cloud, nothing so simple.  What was left over was sort of a soul residue, something that wasn¡¯t a real soul, but parts of one that had sloughed off due to the damage, mutated irradiated, contaminated.  These leftovers weren¡¯t physical, but a spiritual remnant that would just remain, rot and fester, eventually petrifying onto something that would sink into the very land itself, contaminating it.  In a few years, nothing good would grow here, insects and animals would abandon it, and people that came here often enough would find themselves . . . changing for the worse.  In time things that weren¡¯t ghosts but which were malevolent and cruel would begin to manifest, seeking to feed and spread the contamination by ripping away more spiritual remnants from any victims they could find.

    So, good thing she cleared it up.  It had just been bloody tiring.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t as though she hadn¡¯t managed to profit.  Some of the soul stuff that she¡¯d cleared up had gone into a small clay jar of hers, a useful reagent that she¡¯d find a use for later.  Then there¡¯d been the copious amounts of ash left lying around.  Dragon fire ash, and not even a day old, some of it was even still warm!

    Oh, the things she¡¯d be able to do with that.  Conjuring dragon fire of her own was one trick that would greatly expand her offensive arsenal, and being able to temporarily command ¡®lesser¡¯ flames was another.  Sure she wasn¡¯t able to take all she wanted, she¡¯d have needed a small lorry for that, but with just the jar she did have, she had enough to make her a decent threat for some time.

    Unfortunately, she¡¯d been a bit greedy, trying to harvest other residual energies, rather than being content with what she had.  Emma had been able to seal some away, but the rest had been more potent than she¡¯d been prepared for.  If she hadn¡¯t already been so tired then she might have been able to handle it, but a moment of inattention had resulted in the mixture of remnant powers slipping her grasp.  It had taken everything she had to dissipate them rather than letting them explode, so now . . .

    ¡°Ahh . . .¡±

    Emma¡¯s recollections were scattered as intense pain shot through her arm from just below the elbow.  The pain came out of nowhere, sharp and burning, as though someone had just jammed a heated poker into her flesh.  Clenching her teeth and turning her exclamation into a hiss she tugged at her sleeve until she could see her bare flesh.  What she saw caused her face to contort into an ugly grimace.

    More of those snow-white scales had appeared on her arm, this time a whole line of them running from her elbow to the middle of her forearm.  The line was thin, barely thicker than the ink chamber of a biro pen, but the flesh around it was an angry red, as though infected and fevered.

    She was running out of time.

    The simple fact was that her condition was snowballing.  What she had done had required a lot of precision, but in terms of raw power, it had been relatively cheap.  What she had done shouldn¡¯t have caused more scales to manifest!

    But they had.

    It hadn¡¯t taken her long to work out what was happening.  More scales manifested as she pushed herself, casting stronger magic and wearing away at the seals and limitations she¡¯d worn for centuries.  And because those scales had manifested it made the seals that much more fragile, meaning the next time she pushed herself they were that much easier to damage and cause more scales to manifest.  It was a vicious cycle, one she could only escape if she stopped using magic for a few decades, hid somewhere quiet, and dedicated herself to forcing the scales down.

    She couldn¡¯t afford that!  She couldn¡¯t lose this chance, this one chance that she¡¯d been waiting so long for.  Adam was the key!  If she could just convince him . . .

    She hadn¡¯t done enough yet though.  What she needed from him . . . it wasn¡¯t any small thing, it was big!  Huge!  The level of trust she¡¯d be asking from him meant that she was almost certain to be denied.  She needed to do something more, something big enough to get her foot in the door, something he couldn¡¯t deny.

    Damn it! Even in the privacy of her own skull that sounded manipulative and mercenary.  It was also the brutal truth though.  She was running out of time, pure and simple.  She needed to secure her position with Adam before it was all gone.

    God, she was too tired for this!

    Despite the pain, despite the stress, despite time running out, all Emma wanted to do was curl up into a ball and fall asleep right there, on the cool and dirty pavement of the alley.  Just a couple of hours, was that really too much to ask?  Hells, she¡¯d be happy with just one hour.  Just some precious time to turn her brain off and escape into the sweet oblivion of slumber.

    Instead, she pulled her sleeve down, ignored the pain in her arm and heaved herself to her feet.

    She was not going to give up!  She could sleep when she was dead!  Until then she was going to keep dragging herself along, holding onto her hope until she succeeded or until there was nothing left of her!  She wasn¡¯t in a good spot, but that was okay.

    She had some ideas to work with.

    --------------------------------------------------------

    I watched Mato and did my best to keep my seething jealousy from showing on my face.  It was something of a struggle, but I was working with the advantage that the kid was thoroughly distracted at this point.

    Our trip to the sports club had gone great.  For a fairly small town the sports facilities had been awesome, a nice big pool, a jacuzzi and a sauna big enough for me to spend some time in, even with my wings.  That, plus a nice long shower in the spacious changing rooms, had left me feeling way better, and my fellow demigod had also perked up some.  There were no more scorch marks on us, I had the ash and dirt out of my feathers where it had really been starting to itch, we had fresh clothes on, new shoes and actually looked partway civilised.

    The only hiccup so far had been that I¡¯d forgotten to get a comb for either of us, but that wasn¡¯t too bad.  Thanks to my divine airbrushing I could now somehow pull off the whole ¡®sexy bed hair¡¯ look, and Mato was young enough to make it look natural.

    My good mood had felt pretty much bone-deep by that point.  Sure, there¡¯d been some gawkers, staff at the club or other attendees, but there seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule that they stay at a distance.  Some of them took pictures with their mobiles, and I¡¯m pretty sure there were a lot of calls being made, but I honestly didn¡¯t care.  I was feeling better, and I was willing to deal with it later.  Maybe not the smartest way to handle it, but I didn¡¯t want to ruin things.

    Something else did though.

    As promised I took Mato to the club¡¯s restaurant once we were finished.  Yeah, it wasn¡¯t like I was going to get anything, but his stomach was audibly growling by that point, and I¡¯d have had to be made of stone not to notice the puppy dog eyes he was making at me.  Once we got there I was impressed by just how much the kid ended up ordering.  A whole lasagna, meant to serve two, a salad, a plate of spicy chicken wings, two plates of prawn starters, a bowl of boiled veggies and a plate of garlic bread.  I thought it was way too much for him to eat, but I figured I could take what was leftover back with me to act as a snack for the rest of our group.

    More fool me, at the rate he was going there wasn¡¯t going to be anything left.

    There was a special sort of torture to watching him fall upon the spread of food as though he was the personification of a biblical swarm of locusts.  Piece by piece the delicious-smelling food disappeared, and I could do nothing but watch as I straddled the reversed chair across the table from him.  I had ordered a glass of orange juice, freshly squeezed and everything, but as always it just tasted of water.  Still, I drank it slowly, enjoying the sensation of the bits of pulp swirling around in the juice as I did so.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to eat anything?¡±

    He finally spoke to me after half the lasagna, the chicken wings, the plate of prawns and all the garlic bread were gone.  I would have been offended it took him so long, but given his sheer enthusiasm for the food I was willing to forgive him.

    ¡°I want to, believe me,¡± I admitted. ¡°But there¡¯s no point.¡±

    I really did.  I wasn¡¯t quite at the point where I¡¯d be willing to trade my right arm for a burger I could taste, but I was getting worryingly close to it.  Most of the time I could distract myself, and the fact that I didn¡¯t get physically hungry helped.  Still, the memories kept on sneaking up on me when I wasn¡¯t laser-focused on something like combat, or when I just had some free time.  I¡¯d be doing some training, or taking a shower, or just lying in bed before falling asleep, and I¡¯d start to remember the taste of freshly fried chips, or a nice curry, or chicken ramen, or any one of a hundred other foods that I¡¯d enjoyed over my life.  I¡¯d remember how they tasted, how I¡¯d reacted to those tastes, and I¡¯d start to lick my lips, drool, and generally get ready to eat, even though nothing was coming.  I didn¡¯t get hungry, but I was getting cravings.

    I was starting to sympathise with the mythological Tantalus.  The guy might have been an evil piece of work, killing, cooking and then serving up his own son to the gods in an effort to trick them, but we were in the same boat when it came to being tormented by food and drink.

    Trying to distract myself from that particular topic I tried to focus back on Mato.  Who dragged my attention right back to it.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    I bit back a sigh.  Of course, he¡¯d ask, why wouldn¡¯t he?

    ¡°You know I said I had some angel in me?¡± I slightly raised one wing in emphasis, causing him to nod in reply. ¡°Well, some angels are weaker to some sins than others.  My ancestor was weak to gluttony, so she sealed away her sense of taste for food.  Lucky me, I got stuck with it as well.¡±

    ¡°So, you can''t taste anything?¡±

    Mato looked horrified at the idea, looking down at the uneaten food before him and then back at me with visible pity.

    ¡°Nope,¡± I admitted, holding up my glass of juice. ¡°This . . . it just tastes like water with some bits in it.  Any food I eat just tastes of nothing.  On the plus side, I don¡¯t actually need to eat anymore, so it¡¯s not like I¡¯ve got to eat tasteless food to survive, so that¡¯s something, I guess.  Still, I hope you don¡¯t mind me watching you with burning envy as you eat.¡±

    I made an exaggerated grimace of jealousy, showing my teeth and narrowing my eyes as much as I could to play up the comedic angle.  While it was the truth I didn¡¯t want him to take me seriously, I didn¡¯t want to drag down the mood.

    Since he grinned back at me I must have succeeded, so I cast about for another topic to get on, one that would distract us both from my issues.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s it like being a giant bear?¡±

    Mato just blinked at me for a moment, caught off guard by the topic change, then grinned the grin of every kid that had been offered the chance to talk about their latest favourite toy.

    ¡°It¡¯s incredible!¡± he enthused. ¡°I¡¯m so strong, and everything looks so small!  It feels like I¡¯m invincible, all that power in me.  And the world¡¯s different. I can smell so much, hear so much! My sight¡¯s different, but even that¡¯s sharper in some ways.  It¡¯s awesome!¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile at the sheer exuberance in his words.  It was nice to see, a reminder that even in all the mess we were having to deal with there was still some . . . wonder to be found.

    ¡°Is it hard to change forms like that?  Going from being a guy to being a bear . . . isn¡¯t it disorienting?¡±

    The kid looked at me, his head tilted slightly and confusion clear on his face.

    ¡°Is it weird when you transform?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t transform,¡± I explained. ¡°How I am, I¡¯m like this all the time.¡±

    Trying to inject humour back into a suddenly awkward moment I raised a wing, giving him a careful wave with it, then gesturing to the reversed chair I was straddling.

    ¡°These are awesome, but they make sitting on a chair a hassle.  And lying down.  And other things.  Do you know how hard it can be to go down a narrow corridor with them?  I keep on leaving scratches and tears everywhere!¡±

    Okay, that got a grin out of him, so a small victory I guessed.

    ¡°No,¡± he commented, after taking the time to wolf down another couple of prawns. ¡°I mean, when you use your transform power, does it throw you off?¡±

    ¡°Mato . . . I don¡¯t transform,¡± I explained. ¡°What makes you think I do?¡±

    He looked at me strangely, as though I¡¯d just told him I was going to eat the colour blue and it was going to taste the way petrol smelled.

    ¡°Yes, you do.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    My reply was little more than a bemused grunt, taken aback by the absolute surety in his words.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°My change, my power to turn into a bear, it¡¯s . . . it¡¯s not just something that I make by running my power in a certain way,¡± Mato tried to explain. ¡°There¡¯s something in me, a sort of lump or knot of power.  It¡¯s not solid or real, but it¡¯s made up out of power, and it¡¯s always there.  Do you get what I mean?¡±

    I nodded slowly.  What he was describing sounded like some sort of etheric organ.  Sort of like my core or the channels that ran through my wings and body.  Constructs of power that existed within me without a physical presence.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got one too,¡± the younger demigod stated with certainty. ¡°And it just feels like mine, something that¡¯s meant to change you, make you stronger, make you more, y¡¯know?¡±

    Okay, that caught me by surprise.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± he confirmed, around a mouthful of lasagna which he industriously chewed and swallowed. ¡°It¡¯s not the same though.  Mine feels all furry and hard and hot, but not in a bad way.  Yours . . . I feel it and it feels . . .¡±

    He paused, his face scrunching up as he tried to find the words he wanted.

    ¡°It feels like a really big spring, but all . . . small, but still big,¡± He frowned again, waving a hand animatedly as he tried to explain. ¡°It''s like . . . okay, it¡¯s not a spring, not really.  But it feels like a spring, y¡¯know. Like a huge metal spring that¡¯s been pressed tight, but it¡¯s just being held down by a little bit of metal, and that bit of metal is all that keeping all that pent-up force back.  And because it''s such a huge spring there¡¯s loads of force there, like enough to send a truck flying!  And it feels big too, not just the spring being big, but everything! The spring the force inside it, the bit of metal holding it, everything, it¡¯s all really big!¡±

    I had to reach out with my TK to catch a bowl of salad that almost fell off the table as it was knocked by Mato¡¯s elbow.  Still, I kept listening.  He might be rambling a bit, but something about what he was describing was striking a cord.  I felt like he was right, but I wasn¡¯t sure why.  The sensations he was trying to put into words, pent-up force, great size made small, for some reason thinking about them sparked a sort of itch at the back of my mind.  There was something there, but I couldn¡¯t quite reach it.

    Great.  Just one more part of my divine nature that I wasn¡¯t able to get a proper handle on.

    ¡°Thanks for telling me.  I guess it¡¯s one more thing to work on when I¡¯ve got some spare time.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know about it already?¡±

    The younger demigod looked at me with mild confusion.

    ¡°Let me guess,¡± I replied, with a tired smile. ¡°As soon as you got your powers you knew all about them right away, right?¡±

    He nodded and I wasn¡¯t surprised.  That was just the way it was for demigods, or at least, how it should have been.  Their divine blood sparked into life and they just instinctively knew what their powers were.  Oh sure, they had to work out what tricks and synergies they could pull off the old-fashioned way, with imagination, experimentation and lots of hard work, but the basics were meant to come instinctively.  Me, on the other hand . . .

    ¡°Things went a bit wrong during my Awakening,¡± I explained. ¡°It was a whole mess, and in the end, I got my power, but the instruction manual got lost, so I¡¯ve been having to work things out on my own.  Well, not on my own, Joan and Hadriel have been helping me, and then Kali and Athena showed up, they¡¯ve all been helpful.¡±

    I paused, a thought occurring to me.  None of them had sensed anything in me like Mato had.  Well, neither Joan nor Hadriel had, they¡¯d have told me for sure if they had known anything.  Kali I could see sensing something and then holding off on telling me until it was more fun for her, like when we were in a spar and she wanted a better challenge.  Athena, on the other hand . . .  I still didn¡¯t have a good grip on her.  She¡¯d been helpful, but the feeling I got from her was that she wasn¡¯t as . . . invested in me as the others were.  Joan and Hadriel had a divine mission to back me up, Kali had sworn her oath to Shiva, but Athena felt more distant.  It didn¡¯t help that I couldn¡¯t forget what Emma had told me, to be wary of her.

    That didn¡¯t matter right now though.  What mattered was that there was an exploit available right in front of me.

    Okay . . . gotta watch myself, I don¡¯t want to dehumanise Mato by thinking of him as an exploit item.  Still, this info, if it was accurate, could be priceless, I¡¯d be an idiot not to ask for more.

    ¡°Can you feel anything else?¡±

    Again, the young demigod¡¯s face scrunched up as he visibly concentrated.

    ¡°Sort of,¡± he said, though there was notable hesitation there. ¡°I can feel that knot that¡¯s your transformation, and I can feel something else sort of hiding behind it.  I can¡¯t make it out because the other one¡¯s in the way, like the moon in front of the sun.  I can feel the outline of the edges, but it¡¯s not enough to get the full picture, y¡¯know?  I think there might be other stuff there, but they¡¯re not as big, not as clear.  I can feel that they¡¯re there, but that¡¯s it, I can¡¯t tell what type they are or how strong they are or anything.¡±

    Well, wasn¡¯t that intriguing and unhelpful?  Mato had told me something interesting, but lacking in details.  I had a transformation power, he seemed to be pretty confident of that.  And that also was important.  This thing about another hiding behind it . . . did that mean another transformation?  Gods in general were almost always known as shapeshifters, be they Greek, Babylonian, Shinto or Hindu, and I had a lot of cultures behind my bloodlines.  That made for a lot of potential forms.

    My first thought was of a dragon.  Specifically, the one that tried to flame grill me in our last fight with the Hunt.  That thing had been awesome!  So huge, so fearsome, so powerful.  More than that, the sheer confidence it had practically oozed, the towering self-assurance that had been every bit as clear as the red of its scales . . .  there was something captivating about it.  Sure, it had been terrifying, intimidating, even overwhelming, but even so, there was something about the mythical beast that I couldn¡¯t help but find magnificent.  Being able to become something like that . . .

    I was reminded of an old joke I¡¯d heard somewhere.  ¡®Always be yourself!  Unless you can be a dragon.  In that case, be the dragon!  Always be the dragon!¡¯

    Amusingly accurate, but I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d end up being that lucky.

    What he¡¯d said about being able to feel other ¡®stuff¡¯ in me was also intriguing.  Sure, it wasn¡¯t much to go on, but even the suggestion that I had untapped powers of some sort was important to know. Once this whole mess with the Hunt was sorted, one way or another, I¡¯d hopefully have an opportunity to try and follow up on it.

    That was for the future though.  Much as I wanted to chase more potential power now I simply didn¡¯t have the time.  It wouldn¡¯t be long before we were fighting the Wild Hunt again, I was going to have to make preparations.

    The first, and what should have been the most obvious, was not to be an idiot.  That shouldn¡¯t have been too hard, I liked to think I wasn¡¯t stupid.  But I was having to reevaluate that mental assertion as I went over what I¡¯d done wrong in the last two fights.

    The first, and foremost, was that I hadn¡¯t used my Greek Gifts.  In the first fight, I hadn¡¯t really known what to expect, so when I¡¯d been waiting for something to happen I¡¯d chosen not to wear the armour I¡¯d been given thinking that I might have to save someone or talk them down.  If that was the case then showing up in armour wasn¡¯t going to inspire calm.  I should have put it on as soon as I saw the explosions, but I¡¯d forgotten in my haste to find out what was happening.  For that matter, I should have been wearing the helmet of invisibility, since observing while hidden would have been a sound tactical choice.  I hadn¡¯t worn either of them to the second fight since I hadn¡¯t wanted to appear threatening while Mato¡¯s safety was unsure.

    Looking back at least part of my decision had been based on what Emma told me, about not trusting Greeks bearing gifts.  I¡¯d been unwilling to trust in them when it came time to use them, and that had tilted my judgement against them.  I could understand why I¡¯d done it, but looking back it had been a mistake.

    The armour, at least, I should have worn both times.  I¡¯d been lucky that my weak spot had never been targeted or hit by accident, but that was just part of it.  Wearing that armour would have let me tank more damage.  I wasn¡¯t sure how much, but it would have at least been more than I¡¯d endured in each fight.

    Another mistake was not going in with as much preparation as I could.  I¡¯d gotten distracted earlier in the day, reading on the internet, catching up on how the world had developed and on how the appearance of my little group had been taken by the world.  I could have done more to get ready, to put some vague ideas I¡¯d had into effect as a means of adding options to my arsenal.

    This was my third try, I couldn¡¯t afford to give it any less than 100 per cent effort!

    Noticing that a waitress was walking by, rather slowly as she got an eyeful of us both I noted, I waved her over.

    ¡°Umm . . . yes?  Can I help you?¡±

    I offered her a friendly smile, then regretted it as her face turned red and her eyes glazed slightly.  Hurriedly I waved around us in general as I asked my question.

    ¡°Do you know if there¡¯s a garden centre anywhere nearby?  Preferably one with lots of different plants available.¡±

    For a moment I was worried that she wasn¡¯t going to answer, but she blinked and seemed to recollect herself.

    ¡°There¡¯s . . . there¡¯s one just outside of town,¡± she offered. ¡°It¡¯s quite big, and I think they sell lots of different breeds, even exotic stuff like flytraps and cactuses.¡±

    My smile stayed on my face, but I could feel it shifting to something that might show a few more teeth than before.

    ¡°That sounds just like what I¡¯m looking for,¡± I replied. ¡°Can you give me directions?¡±

    A few moments later I was watching as Mato was finishing off the last of the boiled vegetables and the garlic bread.  Impressively, everything else was gone.  I also had the directions I needed, so I knew where we¡¯d be heading next.

    ¡°So, what do you want to get at the garden centre?¡±

    I grinned at the younger demigod¡¯s question and answered with one word.

    ¡°Weapons.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------

    Watch Demigod Forum

    Thread: JOAN OF ARC CONFIRMED!

    Post: 1

    User: TheFrenchConnection (Titles: Threadmaster)

    It has been CONFIRMED!!!  Joan of Arc was sighted and positively identified in the French port city of Le Havre!  We¡¯ve got pics!

    [LINK] [LINK]

    This is awesome!  France has her patron saint up and about, and she¡¯s in the company of two angels and some others!  More news will be published as it becomes available.

    Post: 2

    User: Cakes4EVA (Titles: None)

    Olkay, this is awesome!  It¡¯ll be a great boost to the French nation pride.  Since Arthur showed up the UK has been soaring on a wave of nationalism that might be scary if he wasn¡¯t such a good guy.  Having such a powerful figure as Joan show up should make for something of a soft counterweight.

    Post: 3

    User: BrickoBrak (Titles: Confirmed Source)

    I don¡¯t know how much of a difference it¡¯ll make that Joan is back.  No offence to her, but Arthur is a King, not to mention he came back with the whole of the Round Tabel to back him up.  Joan seems to be on her own, and at most she was a kingmaker back in her mortal life.  Arthur was a mythical figure, and wielder of probably the most famous sword in the world and his deeds are synonymous with kingship, rule and the greatest of knights.  Joan is less famous, and was most definitely a more mundane mortal in her life.  I don¡¯t want to sound like I¡¯m putting her down, but it¡¯s unlikely that she¡¯s a match for Arthur, at least in terms of raw power or the resources she can draw upon.  It is a proven fact that the fame and pervasiveness of a legend impacts the power of the legend in question, and King Arthur is unquestionably more famous than Joan of Arc.

    Post: 4

    User: HearMeRaw (Titles: None)

    Screw You!  are you so up your king¡¯s ass that your going to just put down any woman that¡¯s a threat to him?!  Bet that your one of those assholes that¡¯s always saying tyht women beong at home raising the children, right?

    Well screw you again with some rusty pliers!  Joans gonna show you that we don¡¯t need the whole patriarchy trying to keep us down.  Oh, and about Joan not having the resources like Arthur, check your math!  Arthurs got knights, but Joans got ANGELS with her!  Angels beet knights!

    Part: 5

    User: BrickoBrak (Titles: Confirmed Source)

    @ HearMeRaw

    My statements have nothing to do with Joan¡¯s gender or nationality.  I was just stating my opinion on the situation and the facts as I knew them.  I have no doubt that Joan shall prove to be a woman of exemplary power and character.  I simply believe that the power behind each of them will be influenced by their histories and legends.

    Part: 6

    User: Burning HUNKALove (Titles: BANNED AND BLOCKED)

    <u>This user has been Banned and Blocked permanently from any interactions on this site due to rampant misogyny, inflammatory comments and offensive sexual references.  On a personal note: You aren¡¯t worth the words.</u>

    <u>Moderator: Tinker Warden</u>

    Part:7

    User: HearMeRaw (Titles: None)

    @BrickoBrak

    You know wat? Screw YOU again!  I don¡¯t need your pussyfoot wording, I know what you meant!  I¡¯d really like to tell you what I really feel, but I dnot want to get banned by the Mods, you aren¡¯t worth it!

    Edit: @BrickoBrak

    Okay, I¡¯ve just read the ABSOLUTR MINDCRAP above and you know what?  Youre notso bad.  I still think you¡¯re a patronising asshole, but at least you¡¯ve got some god damned courtesy, that puts you above the damned misogynistic mouthbreather above!

    Part: 8

    User: StupidCupid (Titles: Official Matchmaker)

    @ Anyone who knows.

    How does this guy keep getting back here?  For that matter, how the hell does he write up half a page of that crap so fast?  I¡¯m pretty sure he didn¡¯t have something personalised to Joan of Arc just waiting to be used.

    Part: 9

    User: 27Vectors4Home (Titles: Long time member)

    @ StupidCupid

    He¡¯s a longtime lurker who keeps on cooking up new accounts using false data.  He¡¯s always posting misogynistic crap like that whenever someone brings up capable women or girls in any form.  I think he¡¯s got some sort of standard piece of trash that he can quickly edit and tailor to a specific target with some sort of program.  That or he¡¯s cracked enough in the head that he¡¯s sat down and written that sort of bullshit about all the famous women in history he can think of.  I know he¡¯s put up stuff about Guinevere, Boadicea, Cleopatra, and even the Virgin Mary.  He¡¯s also gone after actresses and celebrities with rants that are suited to the situation, but are too long to have just been written.  Well, maybe if he has mad typing skills, or a really good dictation program.

    Whatever the case, just ignore him.  The guy isn¡¯t even worth the time I¡¯ve spent writing this up to you.

    Part: 10

    User: TheFrenchConnection (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Come on guys, we¡¯re getting derailed here.  This is a thread to discuss Joan of Arc¡¯s confirmed return, not to discuss gender equality or that one asshole we all hate.

    Stay on topic or I¡¯ll lock this thread for a full day.

    Part: 11

    User: MarcusSonofMacross (Titles: Historian)

    Has anyone been able to identify the folks with Joan?  The pictures are pretty good, but apart from the two angels the others are out of focus.  Are there any other pictures up yet?

    Part: 12

    User: EyeSpyLittleEye (Titles: Confirmed Analyst)

    @ MarcusSonofMacross

    Actually, I think there¡¯s only one angle there, the woman.  The guy is dressed in modern clothes, and wears sneakers.  The red head clearly has a halo but he doesn¡¯t.  my guess is that he¡¯s a nephilim that Joan¡¯s found and the angel with the red wings is there to help her.

    On a related note, I¡¯ve been trying to identify the angel, but I don¡¯t have enough info to work with.  If anything else gets posted about her please let me know.

    Part: 13

    User: RedFishnBlueChips (Titles: None)

    If the pastor at my church ahd mentioned more angels like that redhead then you can bet that I¡¯d have paid more attention to his sermons.  If that¡¯s the fashion of heaven then I¡¯ll have to make sure I get their when I die.

    Part: 14

    User: ReadySetGo!(Titles: Confirmed Source)

    I was able to get a look at the first official report of things from Le Havre, and it¡¯s big!

    First off, yeah that really is Joan of Arc.  The man with her is a confirmed demigod, not a nephilim, a demigod with god and angel blood in him.  No name for him yet, but he¡¯s confirmed ot be from England, Joan brought him over to France for some reason.  Here are some more pics that were attached. [Pic] [Pic]

    Next thing is that the angel with her has been named as Hadriel.  I don¡¯t know if that means anything to anyone, but that¡¯s the name on the report.  Pics are attached. [Pic] [Pic]

    Okay, now for the big news!  Thise two women with them . . . they¡¯re goddesses, and not just any goddesses.  One¡¯s Athena, as in one of the head honchoes from Olympus Industries!  Just last week she was showing reporters around the new factory in Chicago, and now she¡¯s here in France.  Make of that what you will, I know I¡¯m going over the implications.  And you know what, that¡¯s not all!  You know what the name of the other goddess is on the report?  KALI!  As in the goddess of destruction from the Hindu pantheon, and a goddess that Artemis herself has gone on the record as saying she does not want to tangle with.  The same Artemis that hunts rogue demigods and half demons for sport.  That Artemis doesn¡¯t want to tangle with her!

    And Athena and Kali are there with Joan of Arc and an angel.

    I¡¯m not sure what that means, but here¡¯re the pictures attached to the report. [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic]

    Part: 15

    User: JInJen31 (Titles: None)

    Holy Crap!  Is this for real? Angels, goddesses from different cultures, a demigod and a reborn saint.  Is anyone else thinking that this looks like the prelude to something bigger?

    Part: 16

    User: EyeSpyLittleEye (Titles: Confirmed Analyst)

    Hadriel is not an angel that has shown up in any of my research.  It is now known that most of the Third Generation angels aren¡¯t know to mankind, so that¡¯s not too much of a surprise.  Her halo does give some indicators of her rank and position, but they aren¡¯t to clear.  I¡¯m fairly sure that she¡¯s a warrior, a soldier of some type, but her choir is more confusing.  The setting and markings on her halo seem to indicate that she¡¯s a Power, but there are also indicators that she¡¯s a Throne as well.

    I admit, I might be misreading it, the books I¡¯m using for reference are over a hundred years old and are copies of even older books.  One thing I can tell for sure is that those red wings mean that she¡¯s been fighting and winning for a long time.  If she wasn¡¯t then she¡¯d have Fallen.

    Part: 17

    User: RedFishnBlueChips (Titles: None)

    So, what¡¯s with her walking around wearing less than the average stripper?  If she¡¯s a warrior then shouldn¡¯t she be in armour?  Not that I¡¯m complaining.  Who doesn¡¯t love a sexy warrior angel?  But shouldn¡¯t she have a chainmail bikini at least?

    Part: 18

    User: HearMeRaw (Titles: Temp banned)

    <u>This user has received a 10 day ban due to abusive language and personal comments exceeding the rules of this thread.  This moderator recognizes that you were somewhat provoked, but that does not excuse the breaking of the rules.  Please take some time to calm down. </u>

    <u>Moderator: Tinker Warden</u>

    <u> </u>

    Part: 19

    User: (Titles:)

    User: EyeSpyLittleEye (Titles: Confirmed Analyst)

    @ RedFishnBlueChips

    Armour is a lesser concern for most angels, given that their bare skin is as hard to break as iron.  Her choice of garb is unusual though, but I believe that the sin of lust is often associated with the colour violent or pink.  Given that her wings are red, the colour of wrath, I think it¡¯s unlikely she¡¯s dressed like that in an attempt to attract attention or entice the eyes of others.  In all likelihood she has lost her armour in some way and just not bothered to replace it.  Her current clothes meet the minimum for decency, so she doesn¡¯t pay it any more attention.

    @ HearMeRaw

    Hey, steady on!  Yes, that might have been a bit suggestive, but I hardly feel it demands such a . . . detailed reply.

    Part: 20

    User: FutureCelebrity121 (Titles: True Blue)

    Hey, what does it mean that Athena¡¯s there, instead of back at Olympus Industries?  I mean, she¡¯s the face of the company, their main rep and the head negotiator on deals.  She can¡¯t just leave like this, can she?  What¡¯s it going to do to my share value?

    Part: 21

    User: ReadySetGo!(Titles: Confirmed Source)

    Okay, I¡¯ve got some more info, and you¡¯re not going to believe it!  it turns out that they aren¡¯t all there with Joan, they¡¯re all there with the demigod!  That¡¯s right, that lucky SOB has those four supernatural hotties following him around!  Is anyone else seeing red and turning green?

    Okay, on a more serious not, just how important is he to get this kind of back up?

    Part: 22

    User: StupidCupid (Titles: Official Matchmaker)

    Well, first off he¡¯s ridiculously hot!  I mean, I¡¯m straight as an arrow, but if he was asking I honestly don¡¯t know if I¡¯d say no.  So . . . are we looking at a divine harem here?  Was anime right all along?!

    More seriously, My guess is that we¡¯re looking at a Nephilim that¡¯s also a legacy for two bloodlines, one from Greece and one from India.  If he¡¯s got two such noteworthy goddesses with him then he¡¯s got to have some pretty strong ancestors too.  My guess would be Shiva and Zeus.  And given that he¡¯s got an angel and a saint at his side I¡¯d guess that his angelic parent must be pretty high up there on the heavenly totem pole as well.

    Part: 23

    User: Beloved_Benny_Hill (Titles: Confirmed One-man band)

    That¡¯d mean he¡¯s crazy important though.  So far the most famous Nephilim in the world is Jason Warwick, and he¡¯s being trained by a cherub, and a young looking one at that.  What¡¯s it mean that this guy merits a warrior angel and a saint?

    Part: 24

    User: ReadySetGo!(Titles: Confirmed Source)

    I¡¯ve managed to get some more info!  The demigod¡¯s name, it¡¯s Adam West!

    Hope you guys aren¡¯t expecting more, because that¡¯s the last that my contact will be able to provide.  They¡¯re already risking a lot of heat by letting this slip, so be grateful!

    There are also some new picks, of the girls and some fresh ones of Adam himself.  Enjoy.

    [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic]

    Part: 25

    User: FutureCelebrity121 (Titles: True Blue)

    Okay, is anyone else starting to feel a bit stalkery?  I came here to get a look on the fresh scope with Joan of Arc, I wasn¡¯t ecpecting this.

    @ ReadySetGo!

    Thanks for the pics, they really were awesome, and I¡¯m going to have the one with Adam straddling that chair printer in a poster and hung up on my wall.  Still, aren¡¯t you going a bit far by giving us his first and surname?  Yeah, Jason went public, but that was at a press conference he called.  Getting his name from some paperwork and then putting it up here feels as bit . . . skeevy.  Wouldn¡¯t his first name have been enough, this could put his family in danger, y¡¯know.

    Part: 26

    User: ReadySetGo!(Titles: Confirmed Source)

    @FutureCelebrity121

    Hey, this was going to get out eventually.  No way were those documents actually going to stay confidential.  The only difference is that you¡¯re reading it here, not in some French rag after a reporter bribed someone to get a look at them.

    Part: 27

    User: GOOHYFA#87 (Titles: None)

    Wait, has it been confirmed that Joan is here because of the nephilim?  Maybe he found her, and she¡¯s acting as a trainer or something.  He might be her student or squire, wouldn¡¯t that be mor likely?  The same goes for the angel, maybe she¡¯s there for Joan.

    Part: 28

    User: TheFrenchConnection (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ GOOHYFA#87

    Maybe, but that still doesn¡¯t explain Athena and Kali.  The Heavens don¡¯t really have any antagonistic relationships with any of the pantheons, but they aren¡¯t that close either.  Without some sort of external factor this alliance seems very unlikely to have formed on its own.  A demigod would be the simplest explanation.  Well, that or a joint enemy.

    Part: 29

    User: HoneyCakesRBest:) (Titles: Confirmed Problem Child)

    Come on!  You can¡¯t just suggest that and not give us any ideas of who you mean!

    Part: 30

    User: P45Bester(Titles: None)

    Hey, has no-one noticed that this guy¡¯s name is Adam West?

    . . .

    . . .

    Well, if nobody else is going to say it then I¡¯m going to say it first.

    HOLY BLOODLINE BUFFOONARY BATMAN!!!!

    Part: 31

    User: NevaGonnaSurrender (Titles: Confirmed Determinator)

    Hey, can we get back to Joan.  She is the meant to be the main focus of this thread, right?

    What I want to know is if she¡¯s going to be working with the French government.  King Arthur may have caused some upheaval in the UK, but Joan doesn¡¯t have a history of ruling herself.  I think it¡¯s likely that she¡¯ll agree to work with them, at least in some way.  If they¡¯re smart then they¡¯ll put her in charge of their supernatural assets.  All resurrected souls have shown that they¡¯ve gained knowledge while in whatever afterlife they were in, so Joan¡¯s bound to know all sorts of secrets and general knowledge that would be invaluable in such a position.

    Part: 32

    User: 27Vectors4Home (Titles: Long time member)

    Has there been any confirmation of Joan¡¯s abilities?  Based on her legend she should be able to perform some miracles, was a banner barer, led armies, and was also a kingmaker.  Then there¡¯s her unjust burning and her legacy as the patron saint of France.  That¡¯s a lot of aspects to work with.

    -\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-

    It was interesting to read again, but Adam was only mentioned peripherally from then on.  Rather than contiune he returned to the main index of new threads and tried to find one focusing on the demigod, something more recent.

    -\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-

    Thread: New Demigod: Adam West!

    Post: 1

    User: 7thHeaven777 (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Well, things kept getting derailed on the other threads, so here we go, a thread specially devoted to our new winged demigod.

    Now a quick reiteration of the facts as we know them, and as have been confirmed by verified sources.

    <ul>

    <li>Adam West is a UK citizen without a criminal record or any known association to any activist groups.</li>

    <li>Adam West recently arrived at the city of Le Havre in the company of Joan of Arc, a warrior angel named Hadriel, the Olympian goddess Athena and the Hindu goddess Kali.</li>

    <li>Adam West has shown physical changes since becoming a demigod, including changed and enhanced appearance, wings, and control over a wide number of elements.</li>

    <li>After setting off a minor riot with his appearance, and that of his companions, he contacted the local police and informed them that he had arrived in response to a prophecy delivered to Joan by an angel. It simply told him of a time and a location.  Given the firepower he had backing him the official stance was decided as ¡®hands off¡¯ and he was left to follow through.</li>

    <li>Following Joan¡¯s prophecy resulted in a massive fight at the dockyards in Le Havre, resulting in considerable property damage.</li>

    <li>In the aftermath, it was confirmed that Adam and his allies had clashed with the Wild Hunt, and that a younger demigod had been kidnapped by them. During this time Sir Lancelot of the Round Table came to meet them and after unknown discussions chose to join in their efforts to rescue the demigod.</li>

    <li>The latest news suggests that they were able to save the demigod, and seem to be recovering from their efforts. There are some pictures of Adam and a younger boy going shopping and going to a restaurant. [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic in swimming gear!]</li>

    </ul>

    Part: 2

    User: HerculesFan96(Titles: Confirmed Body Builder)

    First!

    On a different subject . . . angel boy is SHREDDED!  I mean, seriously!  Look at those abs!  You could grate cheese on those things!  How many crunches did he have to do to get those?!  I WEEP TEARS OF JEALOUSY!!!

    Now that I¡¯ve got that out of my system . . . what¡¯s the story with Lancelot?  I thought he was over in France looking for King Arthur¡¯s Sheath.  Why¡¯d he join up with Adam?

    Part: 3

    User: NotaWerewolf (Titles: Confirmed Not a Werewolf)

    @ HerculesFan96

    Maybe they¡¯re working together to find the sheath?  Adam¡¯s with Joan, so there¡¯s a connection to the local . . . hero of the land?  Is that a good way of putting it?  Anyway, Arthur¡¯s the UK equivalent, right?  Them working together makes some sense.

    Unless you count Joan¡¯s perfectly understandable potential beef with the English, who sentenced her in a court so crooked it resembled a pretzel and then burnt her aliove.  Yeah, I only just thought of that.

    Part: 4

    User: GimmeBagelsOrGiveMeDeath (Titles: Confirmed Baker)

    She doesn¡¯t seem to have any trouble working with a British guy though.  So . . . maybe she¡¯s not holding a grudge?  If she does then it¡¯s going to cause all kinds of international tension, you can bet on that.

    Part: 5

    User: NinjaDeParis (Titles: None)

    I can tell you that the news of Jeanne¡¯s return has already spread across France like you wouldn¡¯t believe!  I took a walk down Avenue des Champs-¨¦lys¨¦es this morning and everywhere you looked there was Jeanne d¡¯Arc stuff.  It¡¯s like every stores, home and apartment in the city has dug out anything related to her and put it out on display.  Posters, paintings, statuettes, everything.  I even saw some shop assistants dressed up in cosplay of her!

    I know that King Arthur coming back was a big thing in the UK, especially since he trashed Balor, but I don¡¯t think I really got it until now.  Seeing everyone reacting like this is kind of surreal, but its also pretty cool.

    Part: 5

    User: ManInTheKnow[oo] (Titles: Confirmed Source)

    Attention all!  I think I¡¯ve found out why this is all going down!

    I found [THIS] picture on social media this morning.  As you can see, it¡¯s a large object flying over some farmland.  Not a very good picture, but you can see why it got enough hits to get my attention.  I ran it through some verification software, and I can confirm that it ISN¡¯T fake.

    It was enough to get me interested and I was able to * gain access to several camera¡¯s in the same area, after calling in some favours.  After trolling through them I was able to find these pictures.

    [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic] [Pic]

    That¡¯s right bitches!  We¡¯ve got a freakin¡¯ DRAGON within three miles of of the town where Adam and his new friend are shopping and having a meal!  These pictures were taken last night, and after some more digging I found out that some fields and roads not too far off were found torn up, blasted and partly melted!  Is anyone else starting to get the picture here?

    Lancelot is a dragonslayer, at least according to his legend.  He joins up with Adam and his allies, and then theres a confirmed dragon in the area.  It doesn¡¯t take a maths genius to do the adding up here.

    Part: 6

    User: NotInvincibleSaddly (Titles: Long Time Member)

    @ 7thHeaven777

    Thanks for the pictures, but I¡¯m a bit concerned at you getting them.  Especially the one of him in the pool.  Don¡¯t get me wrong, I loved them, and that pool shot is going up on my wall, but isn¡¯t it a bit skeevy to have taken them?

    @ ManInTheKnow[oo]

    Thanks for your pics too.  That third one was extra awesome, showing just how big the dragon was.  Are we really sure that Adam took that thing on?  Because I wouldn¡¯t be willing to go near that thing without a whole line of battle tanks to back me up.

    Part: 7

    User: GimmeBagelsOrGiveMeDeath (Titles: Confirmed Baker)

    @ NotInvincibleSaddly

    Are you kidding?  That thing might not be up there with Godzilla, but it¡¯s big enough to be in the kaiju threshold.  Do you know what happens when the military goes after a kaiju with tanks?  Let me tell you, it doesn¡¯t go well for the tanks.  If you¡¯re after a kaiju you want some sort of war mech, preferably emulating a powerful kaiju, or some sort of superweapon.  Anything else is just fodder!

    Part: 8

    User: 7thHeaven777 (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ NotInvincibleSaddly

    I do get where you¡¯re coming from, but I didn¡¯t take any of these pictures myself.  They were acquired from social media accounts with the pictures being free domain.  Yes, they might not have been taken on quite the up and up, but since they were there I used them here.

    Part: 9

    User: WeatherVane13 (Titles: None)

    Okay, I¡¯ve run some measuring software on the images available, and there terrifying.  I mean that.  That thing is HUGE!!!

    Now, there is some margin for error, but the general breakdown put this things wingspan somewhere between 150 and 200 feet across, and it measuring from snout to tail tip somewhere between 100 and 150 feet.  I tried to work out how much that thing weighs, but without any data on its internal organs I couldn¡¯t get a decent results.  Still, we¡¯re talking tonnes in the hundreds, maybe more.

    One again, magic is telling physics to hand over it¡¯s lunch money and then go cry in a corner.  Something that big shouldn¡¯t even be able to move, let alone fly!  That dragon should have it¡¯s limbs snap under its weight, I don¡¯t care if its got bones made of solid titanium, the cartilage and muscles shouldn¡¯t be able to hold together.

    But, somehow, it doesn¡¯t.  Instead this biological impossibility not only holds together, it somehow manages to fly as well, in utter defiance of everything science tells us should not be possible.

    I have a master¡¯s degree in biology and physics, they¡¯re framed and up on the wall of my study.  I¡¯m looking at them right now and I¡¯m wondering just what they¡¯re really worth in a world where a dragon not only exists, but also flies and breathes fire hot enough to liquify tarmac and concrete.

    You know what?  I need a drink.

    Part: 10

    User: UniversalUntruth987 (Titles: Confirmed Self Helper)

    Ah, the sane man¡¯s response to an insane situation, slug back enough alcohol that it either starts making sense, or you don¡¯t care anymore.

    In all seriousness though, this kind of reaction is more common than you might think.  Mankind has spent millennia slowly building up our understanding of the world, learning the rules and the whys of how things work, and every civilization on the planet has been built on that knowledge.  Then the Black Sun happens and we find out that there are powers that can override the rules we thought immutable.  Even worse, we¡¯ve tried to understand how that happens and rather than a new set of rules it basically comes down to ¡®because we¡¯re strong enough to say so¡¯.

    Shapeshifting that ignores conservation of mass, destructive blasts that basically delete matter from existence, lifeforms without any biological matter, the list of things once thought impossible but which now take place daily just goes on.

    More than one studious mind has broken itself trying to understand the seeming incomprehensibility of magic.

    Part: 11

    User: PartyHarder4Ever!! (Titles: Confirmed Party Animal)

    @ : WeatherVane13 and UniversalUntruth987

    C¡¯mon, don¡¯t be such downers!  We¡¯ve just seen a dragon!  A DRAGON!!!!  This time last year they were just special effects and puppets and tricks.  Now, we¡¯re seeing the real thing!  Where¡¯s your sense of wonder.  I mean, yeah, theat thing is terrifying.  But isn¡¯t it also magnificent?!  We¡¯re living in an age of magic and miracles!  Isn¡¯t that worth something?  Do we have to try to analyse it to death in some twisted need to understand and control?

    Part: 12

    User: ManInTheKnow[oo] (Titles: Confirmed Source)

    @ PartyHarder4Ever!!

    I get where you¡¯re coming from, and yeah, the dragon does look amazing.  The problem is that its huge, and huge things need to eat huge amounts of food.  I don¡¯t know about you, but I don¡¯t relish the idea of having humanities spot at the top of the food chain being usurped, no matter how magnificent our usurper might be.

    Part: 13

    User: 7thHeaven777 (Titles: Threadmaster)

    @ Everyone.

    Hey, we¡¯re getting off topic here.  This thread is meant to discuss our favourite winged demigod, not go into another discussion on the pros and cons of the return of the Legends.  There¡¯re more than an hundred other threads dedicated to that, so lets keep on track here, okay?

    On another note, Adam and his friend have been seen making purchases, weird purchases.  One of the shop attendants put on her social media account that he bought seeds for blackberry brambles, rose plants and the Araucaria Araucana, also known as that Monkey Puzzle Tree.  All these plants have one thing in  common, at least as far as I can tell.  Once they get full grown they are not plants you want to run into without wearing protective clothing, not unless you want to get cut up.

    What might Adam have planned for these I wonder?

    Part: 14

    User: 40YearsofFREEDOM (Titles: None)

    @ Everyone + 7thHeaven777

    I do appreciate the effort you¡¯re putting into this thread, but I don¡¯t know about the rest of you, but I¡¯m feeling a bit on the stalkery side, monitoring private media accounts to get up to the moment info on this guy.  Yeah, Adam¡¯s fascinating, especially with he company he¡¯s keeping, but this is getting intrusive.

    Part: 15

    User: CalmBlueLagoon=$$$$ (Titles: Temp Banned)

    <u>This user has received a 10 day ban due to abusive language and personal comments exceeding the rules of this thread.  This moderator recognizes your right to a personal opinion on the subjects discussed, but even so there are rules of behaviour upon this site.  Please take some time to calm down. </u>

    <u>Moderator: Keyboard Wizard</u>

    Part: 16

    User: 7thHeaven777 (Titles: Threadmaster)

    Well, the Mods eem to think we should tone back the cyber stalking, so we¡¯ll have to fall back on more acceptable fun.

    Okay everyone, I¡¯m taking bets on what Adam¡¯s powers are going to be confirmed as!  We¡¯ve got wings for sure, and we know he can mess with elements, but that¡¯s it for now.  I¡¯m going to be putting up some suggestions for powers.  Feel free to vote on them, or add your own suggestions.

    []Divine Fire  []Divine Lightning  []Heavenly Sword  []Summons Lesser Angels  []Petrifying Gaze (Maybe a salt variation)  []Healing  []Weather Control  []Weapon Manifestation  []Purifying Aura

    Just to be clear, the only thing that¡¯s being gambled here are bragging rights, got it?  If anyone even hints at putting real money on this the Mods are going to come down on us like a ton of bricks.

    Part: 17

    User: CollageHopeful1998 (Titles: None)

    Okay.  I¡¯ll vote for Divine Lightning, Healing and a Purifying Aura.

    Also, I¡¯d like to offer up some more options.  Remember, its all but confirmed that he¡¯s got divine blood from the Olympian and Hindu pantheons.  So . . .

    Shapeshifting (Because practically every god and spirit in Greek mythology could shapeshift.  In fact, I¡¯m pretty sure there was a legend about Zeus seducing some princess in the shape of a swan.  Kinky.)

    Cursing (Again, every Greek god seemed to be able to do this in one form or another, so it stands to reason that a powerful descendant might get that.)

    Archery Mastery (Mastery of the bow and being able to use it was pretty common among the Hindu heroes and demigods.  Rama, Arjuna and Karna were all famed heroes that could bring down armies with their arrows.)

    Summon Elephant (I¡¯m just including this one because I find the image of an angelic demigod riding an elephant into battle awesome for some reason.)

    Part: 18

    User: NotInvincibleSaddly (Titles: Long Time Member)

    Okay, this I can get behind.

    Divine fire seems like a must, and I like the idea of turing enemies into salt statues, that¡¯s nice and biblical.  I also agree with Shapeshifting and Archery Mastery, both seem in keeping with Hindu and Greek divinities.  As for suggestions . . .

    Immortality (I think this is one that you missed.  Lots of demigods gained this in legend, though it tended to be conditional, such as never dying unless they broke and oath, or something like that.)

    Part: 19

    User: BuzzBuzzBuzzzer!!! (Titles: Confirmed Nuisance)

    Hey!  Hey, I¡¯ve got one.  How about-

    -\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-

    Doug stopped reading there, the thread devolving into a series of proposed ideas, suggested versus scenarios and speculation on who, if any, of his companions Adam was involved with.

    ¡°This . . . this is crazy.¡±

    The one who commented was Chris, who¡¯d been reading over his friend''s shoulder.  He then started to pace around the room, nervous energy in his every movement.

    ¡°We passed crazy a couple of days ago,¡± Doug replied, swinging in his chair to face his friend, then turning back to his computer.

    A few taps brought up a picture of Adam, clad only in swimming trunks as he climbed out of a pool using the ladder steps.  It was a pretty good picture, one that used the lighting of a sunny day to highlight the water as it dripped from his wings, his hair and his glistening chiselled muscles.

    ¡°This is Adam?!?!¡± He exploded. ¡°The Adam that lived here with us, who helped you set up that bookcase that fell down, who keeps forgetting to put the fan on when he fries his steaks, who always finds an excuse to never change a lightbulb?!¡±

    Doug had known Adam for years. His friend was slim to the point of being lanky, with skin that stayed pale despite all his hiking, and was cursed with that perpetually messy brown hair.  He liked his walks but hated gyms, which was why he¡¯d never managed to bulk up.  That was the image that Doug had in his mind, and it didn¡¯t match what he was seeing on the screen.

    But at the same time . . . he could see things he recognised.  The shape of the nose, the eyes, that tilted smile, the way he slumped over that chair when he straddled it.  All of them were Adam, just refined and perfected past the point where genetics and good living could hope to reach.  Then there were the other changes, his darkened skin, his hair, his eyes, those wings . . .

    ¡°Adam.  And he¡¯s running around with angels and goddesses!¡±

    There was no heat in Chris¡¯ words, only a sort of tired disbelief.

    Doug could understand why, the last couple of days had been almost surreal for both of them.

    It had started when his auto searches for anything about Adam or Joan of Arc had suddenly started to go off like crazy.  Joan¡¯s appearance and confirmation had alerted them both, and soon they¡¯d found out about her companion, Adam West.  From there they¡¯d both been glued to their computers, watching as more and more information was released, finally seeing pictures of their friend, now that he¡¯d gotten a divine makeover.

    It was all just . . . crazy, as though the world had suddenly been skewed into the absurd.  Still, they couldn¡¯t just deny reality.

    So,¡± Doug asked. ¡°How long do you think it¡¯ll be before we have to worry about reporters banging on the door?¡±

    That was a real concern.  Adam might look different now, and there were several Adam Wests in the UK, but sooner rather than later someone was going to notice this particular Adam was missing, and then it wouldn¡¯t be too far a stroll to reach the right conclusion.  And then . . . well, they weren¡¯t too sure.  Certainly, they¡¯d have a few unpleasant days of reporters and investigators trying to learn all they could about Adam.  Still, with him not actually here that could only go on for so long.  His parents were sure to have it worse, of that they were sure.  And it was what came next that was of greater concern.

    Demigods were powerful and valuable, and one with connections to at least three major powers, like Adam, was an even greater prize.  There were a lot of rumours on the various sites, some credible, some ridiculous.  Doug was pretty sure that the government wasn¡¯t kidnapping demigods wholesale to be cloned and produce an army of super soldiers.  Even so, acquiring the means to apply subtle pressure to a powerful demigod was far more believable.  Things like tracking his friends and family and offering them ¡®security¡¯ in exchange for his cooperation.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ve got some time,¡± Chris stated, flopping onto the only other chair in the room and staring back at Doug. ¡°The new look should help us there.  Also, he¡¯s not been stopping to do any interviews or answer questions, so that should delay IDing him for a bit more.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but then what?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m hoping that him working with Lancelot will mean he gets in good with the King.  If that happens then his friends and family, us included, should get some protection, right?¡±

    ¡°That could work,¡± Doug agreed. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯ve got too many options aside from waiting and hoping for the best.¡±

    There was silence for a moment as the two friends considered the situation.  Then Doug spun his chair around and faced the computer again.

    ¡°I¡¯ll send a message to Adam¡¯s folks.  Let them know that there¡¯s more info on him.  I imagine they¡¯ll want to see the latest pictures, get a good idea of how he¡¯s changed.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.  They¡¯ll be happy with any news,¡± Chris agreed.

    Silence settled in the room again, as both of them got lost in their thoughts.