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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.