“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 désolé 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?