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.
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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.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
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.”
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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 café 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 café. 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 Nüwa, 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 Nüwa, 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. “Nüwa 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 Nüwa, 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.
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