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.
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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!