It was a surprise to find the hallway outside of the Sanctuary infirmary filled nearly beyond capacity with a collection of stoic daeva wearing the city peacekeeper uniforms. At the centre of the group, three of his Saerim were arguing amongst themselves: Remiel and Ciel, as expected, along with Saerim Mahariel, a slender, ginger-haired woman in a variation of the dark navy peacekeeper uniform. They all turned to face him when he opened the door, and for a moment he was struck dumb for how he was supposed to react.

“Saerim Mahariel, is there a reason this hallway needs to be cowed into submission by a show of force or have I missed something vital?” he asked.

Mahariel snapped to attention, her chin held high. “My Aeon, I heard there was trouble and came at once to offer whatever support we may. We will leave no threat unguarded this close to the Sephirah.”

Michael laughed before he could stop himself, a stunted bark of frustration. “No, no, there’s been a misunderstanding. Our guest is not a threat, and we will not have a troupe of guards standing watch in an infirmary.”

“As I said,” Ciel hissed.

“Everyone outside,” Michael ordered, holding the door open pointedly. When the peacekeepers hesitated with a glance at Mahariel, he pointed for emphasis. “Now.”

“My Aeon,” Mahariel protested, but Michael held up his hand to ward her off.

“I appreciate the thought, but it’s unnecessary,” he said. Once the last of the peacekeepers had left, he joined the three Saerim in the centre of the hall. They stood opposite an observation window in the wall that let them see into the treatment room where Umahel and his healers crowded around a bed. Michael couldn’t see Aeon Raphael through the huddle of healers, but their intent postures gave him chills. “What’s happening? Is there any news?”

Remiel shook his head. “She had another fit, like the one you described. They gave her something, must have been to help with it, since it didn’t last long and she didn’t drift again. I don’t know what caused it, and Umahel hasn’t been able to break away to update us, but I thought you ought to know.” He sent Michael a look of raw, conflicted helplessness that unknowingly summed up everything Michael himself felt about the day. “I hope I interrupted nothing vital.”

“No, you did the right thing. And anyway, everything important had already been said,” Michael said, sighing.

“Were you able to contact Most High, my Aeon?”

“I was able to contact Kether,” Michael said. “The communications department assured me the King awaits my arrival for the council tomorrow and cannot be interrupted before then.”

There was a pause as the Saerim digested this.

“So we are to leave for Kether, then,” said Remiel with a nod. “What must we do to prepare for this trip?”

“Ah,” said Michael. He turned his gaze back to the operating room just so he wouldn’t have to watch his Saerims’ faces. “I’m afraid there is no ‘we’ this time, my friend. I need you here in Hod to manage things in my absence.”

He wasn’t prepared for Mahariel to be the one to protest. “My Aeon, I am against the proposal that we are to send you into the Void for any reason, much less alone. These ‘Paths’ are unknown to us; can we say for certain they are not responsible for the Aeon of Tiphareth’s condition? Or perhaps it’s due to exposure to the Void, or separation from the Sephirah Tiphareth? You have never been so far removed from the Sephirah. We have no way of anticipating what manner of repercussions this could have.”

“I must say I agree, my Aeon,” Remiel muttered, looking profoundly grateful that she had been the one to voice it.

“And I hate to say that whatever we may feel matters very little in this case,” Michael said. “You heard the summons just as I did. The Kether announcer was adamant that our concerns are unfounded and the council will proceed as declared. No doubt Most High understands the situation far better than we do. The King would not ask us to do something detrimental to our well-being.”

“That may be, but we need you here in Hod, my Aeon,” Remiel said. “You’ve been our guide for hundreds of thousands of seasons. Things have happened today that we’ve believed to be impossible, and we don’t know how to respond. This is your Sphere, my Aeon, and we need you to guide it now as you always have.”

Michael tittered uncomfortably. “No, you give me undue credit. We built this life, all of us working together, and it is stable enough that I have faith it will remain standing for an afternoon without my constant hovering. The King’s only called for a council; I can’t imagine I’ll be gone long.”

“At least bring someone along with you for the trip,” Mahariel insisted.

“Not to worry; apparently I’ll have the Aeon of Tiphareth with me for company,” Michael said, gesturing in frustration at the scene of healers swarming around the unconscious body of his fellow Aeon.

“Michael, be reasonable,” Remiel pleaded.

“Ah, that is one thing I have never been accused of, sorry.” Michael shrugged. “Weren’t you complaining that there was no challenge left in the world just this very morning? This afternoon has been nothing but challenging from my perspective; I’d have thought you’d be thrilled.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words had left his mouth, but even then it was too late to stop them. He winced as Remiel stiffened; the torn expression of guilt and uncertainty that settled over Remiel’s face because of this thoughtless comment was painful to behold.

Ciel’s quiet voice interrupted before either of them could speak. “It’s happening again,” she whispered. She pointed at the window viewing into the infirmary room.

Inside, the healers had broken into a flurry of activity around the bed. Aeon Raphael clawed at the air, her hands stiff and spasming in the onset of another seizure. Umahel grabbed something from a nearby tray and pressed it to her face, leaning over the bed to hold her in place while he shouted orders to the other healers.

Aeon Raphael hit him without warning, lashing out and catching the arm that was pinning her down; no sound carried through the window, but Michael could see the exact point Umahel’s arm bone shattered as if it were made of paper. Her next hit sent him flying backwards in an explosion of movement that toppled the bed.

Michael bolted for the door, the others close on his heels. The room inside was a bedlam of shouting and confusion. The attendant healers swarmed around where Umahel was slumped against the wall, but most of them looked up in surprise when the door burst open. The infirmary bed was overturned on its side in such a way that it blocked his view of Aeon Raphael from this angle, but her keening, animalistic sounds of distress could be heard underneath the panicked chatter filling the room. Remiel and Ciel rushed forward to assist with pulling Umahel from the room; he roused from his daze at their approach and struggled to wave them away with one good arm and a shortness of breath. Mahariel interposed herself between the others and the overturned bed, her expression grave.

“Wait,” Umahel protested, wheezing, as they tried to pull him into a sitting position. He clutched at his ribs with his good arm until one of the healers pressed a gel patch against his chest that seemed to ease his discomfort when drawing breath.

“This will not stand,” Remiel hissed. He turned to Michael, livid. “Michael, this cannot stand.”

“No, wait,” Umahel gasped, struggling to sit upright. “It was my fault. It was a panic response. I…” He wheezed again, wincing at the pressure the action put on his ribs. “I ought to have been more observant. I forgot she wasn’t one of our daeva.”

“And does that matter?” Remiel asked.

“Yes,” Umahel said. “It matters.”

As the room quieted, the sounds from the other side of the bed became more obvious: the soft rustle of fabric, struggling gasps, quiet, choking cries that sounded more like a dying animal than any noise a person ought to make. Suppressing a shudder, Michael turned to the others. “Everyone out, now. I’ll handle this.”

“My Aeon!” Umahel protested.

“Umahel, I understand,” Michael stopped him before he could agitate himself further. “You’ve done what you can. I’ll handle it from here. Trust me, please, and go take care of yourself.”

Umahel nodded, hissing only slightly as they helped him to his feet thanks to the spreading numbing effect of the gel patch. He stopped them before they could cross into the hallway with a gesture for Michael to come closer. “I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t a sickness. Those markings are beyond me; I couldn’t guess what might cause them. They aren’t physically there, they cannot be tampered with, moved or affected, yet they are solid and unmoving enough to prevent any attempt to cut through them. They’ve ruined her eyes and I can’t guess what they’ve done to her mind.”

“I see. Thank you,” Michael said, frowning. He held the door open as the others filed out with varying degrees of reluctance. Remiel and Mahariel stubbornly lingered behind; he gestured them out with a wave. “Everyone out. Make sure Umahel is taken care of and gets home to his family. I will handle this.”

Remiel cast a dark look at the overturned bed as he passed. “Michael, be cautious,” he whispered as he passed.

Michael thought there were far greater things to be cautious of than a blind woman in an illness-induced panic, but he nodded all the same to please his Regent. He left the privacy curtains open on purpose so they could see things were fine, certain that despite his orders none of his Saerim would leave the area. Once the door was shut and they were alone, Michael peeked around the bed to take stock of the situation.

He hadn’t known what to expect, not really; despite knowing how unlikely it was, a part of him expected to find a feral, gutted animal was making the keening moans of distress coming from the ground. Aeon Raphael was caught in a tangle of bedsheets, her upper torso propped against the toppled cot as she clung to the mattress for dear life. Her legs were trapped under the edge of the bed, her face pressed into the mattress to muffle her whimpers.

Michael knelt a respectful distance from the foot of the bed to make himself seem less threatening. When he spoke, he kept his voice low and soft. “They’ve gone now. Are you all right?”

At the sound of his voice, Aeon Raphael froze in place, scarcely even daring to breathe. It reminded Michael of a small animal hoping to go unnoticed under the nose of a predator.

“You’re safe,” he hurried to assure her. “Whatever happened before cannot reach you here.” When she did not respond to him, the concern that she had lost the ability to understand language tugged at the back of his mind. He tried to brush it away as irrational until proven otherwise. “Do you… remember where you are?”

Silence pervaded the room. She remained unmoving for long enough that Michael was contemplating his next move. Then, at last, Aeon Raphael sighed as if she were deflating under the prolonged tension. “Hod is v-very close,” she murmured as she nuzzled her face into the mattress, presumably for comfort. “That makes you M-Michael.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Michael said. “You’re in an infirmary in Hod where we’re trying to care for you. You’ve just had an episode and fallen to the floor. Would you like help back into bed?”

At once, her whole body tensed as if poised to leap away from a dire threat. Not that she could go far, trapped as she was by the overturned cot and rogue bedsheets. “Don’t e-ever touch me,” she snarled, her teeth bared in a feral threat.

“I won’t, I promise,” Michael said. “But I could lift that cot off you and set it right for use again if you’d like. Surely it’d be more comfortable than the floor.”

There was another lengthy pause as she presumably considered the offer. None of the tension eased from her muscles, but neither did she try to move away. At last, without turning her head, she whispered, “Did I-I hurt someone?”

“Yes, Saerim Umahel, our chief healer,” Michael said. “It happened during your episode. Do you remember what happened?”

“N-no, I was dreaming,” Aeon Raphael said. “I couldn’t wake up; I n-never wake up. But this w-was different. There were v-voices and…” She trailed off, her shoulders hunched around her ears as she struggled to piece together what had happened.

“He ought to be fine, and he doesn’t blame you,” Michael said. “He understands you weren’t fully aware when it happened. Now that you are aware, however, would you be more comfortable if we got that cot off your legs?”

She clung tighter to the mattress; her arms trembled with the effort of holding herself up. “D-don’t take it from me.”

Something in the quiet plea caught him off guard, and he paused. “I won’t take it from you, I just want to set it upright again, to see if that helps. May I?”

“Mmm,” was the response she granted. Aeon Raphael turned her face away from him to rest her cheek on the mattress in what would have been a blatant dismissal under other circumstances, but Michael suspected the fact that she wasn’t trying to flee meant more.

She didn’t let go as he lifted the edge of the overturned bed, and he was careful not to make any sudden moves to dislodge her. As soon as it was high enough, she pulled her legs free, tucking them under herself with a relieved sigh.

“I’m setting it rightway now,” Michael warned. He tried to keep his motions steady, predictable, as he righted the cot. A standing infirmary bed was higher than she could reach while kneeling, however, and she let go rather than allow herself to be dragged upwards with it. “Are you injured?” Michael asked. “Do you need help to get up?”

The threat of help caused Aeon Raphael to shrink away from his voice. She hummed nervously as she felt the pile of blankets tangled around her on the ground. “I’d r-rather stay here.”

“Then I’ll not force you to move,” Michael said. He sat down on the ground opposite her, well out of touching range. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

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“I-I don’t remember,” Aeon Raphael said preemptively as she plucked at the blankets around her blindly. Her head was turned away from him so that the tangle of her hair prevented him from reading her expression. “Whatever ha-happened, I can’t remember. The harder I t-try, the dimmer it gets.” She raised a hand to feel at her neck, her fingers resting over the golden line wrapped around her throat as her other hand tangled in her red hair in frustration. “I-I remember images, patterns a-and colours, but they mean nothing to me n-now. I can’t describe them. They aren’t coherent.” She dropped her hands with a disappointed sigh. “It’s like t-trying to wrestle a cool breeze; it j-just blows away.”

“Some of that can be expected if you’ve only today manifested, as I believe is the case,” Michael said.

“I… manifested?” Aeon Raphael repeated, sounding as if she were trying out the word to verify its accuracy. “Something woke me up? I r-remember that I-I had no body. It was s-so painless, but it w-wasn’t safe. I n-needed to think. I c-couldn’t focus, I-I could hear them all, but it didn’t hurt. Is it m-meant to hurt?”

“No, having a body is not meant to be painful,” Michael said. “Something has gone wrong here. We’re trying to figure out what so we can fix it; anything you can remember about what attacked you could help, no matter how fleeting it may seem.”

“Nothing attacked me,” said Aeon Raphael. “There was n-no reason.”

“You might remember in time,” Michael said. “Be patient; your mind is struggling to adapt to your new body. Your entire perspective of reality and of yourself has just shifted quite radically. On top of that, you might be suffering from your separation from the Sephirah Tiphareth. Manifestation is no minor feat. There is a reason daeva manifest as infants, so they have their entire childhood to learn about themselves and their place in the world. The Saerim learned that from us, and we learned it from the Sephiroth. But you chose to manifest here in Hod, away from your Sephirah. We can’t yet know if that’s had an effect on you or not. It could be you need to return to Tiphareth before things improve.”

“I… n-need Tiphareth,” Aeon Raphael whispered. She touched her fingers to her lips. “I’ve always known that. B-but if I knew that, why would I-I come here just to hurt myself? Why would I do that?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out,” Michael said. “You truly remember nothing about what happened, Aeon Raphael?”

Her breath hitched and she pressed a hand against her chest, her other hand going to her cheek as she turned towards the sound of his voice, at last giving him a proper look at her face. She had soft, androgynous features that would have been pleasant to look at were it not for the lines marking her. Three of the markings met in a knot on her forehead, a golden cluster that was visible under her crimson hair by its bloody glow. One of the lines travelled down the centre of her face, down her neck before it vanished under her clothes, dividing her into two equal halves. The other two lines looped down her face at an angle that crossed over her eyes before continuing down her shoulders, and another line looped around her throat like a noose. Her eyes were milky white, unfocused, and did not follow any of his movements or seek him out at all. Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks even as she tried to wipe them away, her expression a confused contortion of distressed curiosity as she asked, “W-why does it hurt when you call me that Name?”

Michael rocked back on his heels. “Hurt? Uh, where does it hurt? Can you describe it?”

Aeon Raphael pressed her hands over her heart. “Like I-I’m being crushed. It’s about t-to burst.” She touched her throat with a hiccuping sob. “A strangled burning.” She rubbed at her face again, trying to wipe away the tears. “Like I w-want to scream, but I don’t know why.”

“Because I said your Name? Would you prefer I call you the Aeon of Tiphareth?”

She exhaled through her teeth, burying her face in her hands. “N-no, that’s even worse.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Michael said. “I understand you’re confused and need time to rest. If there is anything I can do to make your recovery more pleasant, please let me know. I am sorry, however, that I need to ask you some questions before I can leave you be, starting with these ‘Paths’. Would I be correct in assuming you are familiar with these Paths, that you know what they are?”

“Y-yes, I know the Paths.”

“How?” Michael asked, leaning forward. “For hundreds of thousands of seasons, we’ve been alone with no means of crossing the Void between Spheres. I was convinced that was the design, but now the King has said these Paths were intended and you claim to know them. How did you know these Paths before they existed?”

“They are m-my purpose,” Aeon Raphael said. She traced the line of golden light running down the centre of her face, her fingertip following the marking. “They a-are part of me. I am b-bound to them, just as you are Hod. I-I know nothing else.”

“Then why have they only now appeared?” Michael asked. “Why did you delay your manifestation for so long?”

“I k-kept the Paths closed,” Aeon Raphael whispered, her head falling to one side as her mind wandered. “It w-was on purpose, it was important. There was a-a reason. I-I… There w-was a-a… I thought I could… There w-was something wrong,” she whispered in a rush. “I-I couldn’t wake up. I thought I-I would die. Th-there was something that…” She lurched away from him abruptly, hitting the side of the cot and clinging to the edge with trembling arms. The motion exposed her back to Michael and he found himself very interested in the ceiling at the sight of her bare shoulders; he had forgotten that events hadn’t allowed for her to be given a more appropriate top. “There was a reason I came here, b-but I don’t remember it,” Aeon Raphael mumbled, unaware of his distress. “N-now I’m stuck like this.”

“Having a body isn’t all bad,” Michael said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “Once you overcome the initial shock of it, there are plenty of things that are outright pleasant about the experience. Just be patient with yourself, and perhaps after you’ve had some rest near the Sephirah Tiphareth your memory will return. What’s important now is that you’re safe. Now that you’ve taken a body, we can protect you.”

Aeon Raphael went still again, though it seemed a more contemplative stillness rather than one born of raw fear. “D-do you believe that?” she asked without turning to face him.

“I’d like to make it true,” Michael said. “But I’m afraid I do need your help as well. Most High has called for a council in Kether. I’m assuming the only way to reach Kether from Hod is via these Paths. You say you know the Paths, but you also say you kept them closed til now for good reason. The King says it is safe for us to travel. Do you agree? Is there any chance that your exposure to the Void is in any way responsible for your current condition?”

There was a pause. “The Paths a-are good things. They’re perfectly s-safe.”

“Is there a chance that whatever left you in this state could use the Paths to gain access to our Spheres?” Michael asked.

“That would d-depend on w-whatever it is,” Aeon Raphael said. “The P-Paths enable you to cross the Void. Th-they cannot move a s-stationary force.”

“And what of the trip to Kether itself? Would you feel safe making that trip with things as they are now?”

“Th-the Paths should be safe,” Aeon Raphael said, but he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “Whatever this is, it isn’t their fault.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“They are m-my purpose a-and I know them well,” Aeon Raphael said. Her tone was absent-minded as she trailed a hand along the marking that ran down her arm still clinging to the side of the cot. “They are part of me. I-I can feel them now, bright, w-warm, and wonderful in the darkness. It can’t be th-their fault b-because I wouldn’t do this to myself.”

“In that case, I propose we make this trip to Kether together,” Michael said. “The King has summoned us all for this council, so we may as well travel together. If there is any danger to be found in the Void, it would be safer to face as a group. Perhaps on the way we could take you to Tiphareth to see if a reunion with the Sephirah would help you.”

Aeon Raphael shuddered as she let go of the cot to scrub at her face once more. “F-from Hod to Kether? When is th-this council?”

“Tomorrow eve, yet over a day away.”

“Then there’s n-no time t-to visit Tiphareth,” Aeon Raphael said. She gagged suddenly, scratching at her throat. “T-talking is awful.”

A gaping pit opened up in the bottom of Michael’s stomach, leaving him dizzy. “Hold a moment, what do you mean, ‘there’s no time’? Do you mean to say it’ll take a day to travel to Kether?”

“W-well over a day if y-you walk slowly.”

“It did not appear to take you nearly so long to travel from Tiphareth to Hod earlier today,” he said.

“I-I was formless then,” Aeon Raphael said. “It is m-much easier to be anything when you’re n-nowhere in particular. It takes p-plenty more time to move a-a b-body from place to place. From Hod t-to Kether, at least a day’s length.”

Michael leapt to his feet as if the floor had bitten him. He pretended he didn’t see how she flinched away from the abrupt movement as he began to pace in a tight, agitated circuit. “If that’s true, then we must leave immediately! We cannot be tardy responding to the first direct order the King has issued since the dawn of the Spheres! Aeon Raphael, I apologise that you won’t have longer to rest, but I implore you to guide the way to Kether. We’ll do what we can to make the trip as comfortable for you as possible.”

“Why d-do you believe you need my guidance?” Aeon Raphael asked. She tried to inch away from him, feeling at her surroundings for guidance, but the tangle of blankets around her kept her from making any sudden movements. “Th-the Paths are simple. You could f-find your way.”

“Perhaps it may seem a simple request to you, Aeon Raphael, but to me these Paths are a mystery I dare not tackle on such a tight schedule,” said Michael. Unable to ignore her distress any longer, he forced himself to stop his pacing and took several deep breaths in an attempt to keep the agitation from his voice. “As I said earlier, if we must both make this journey anyway, why not travel together?”

Aeon Raphael paused, her head tilting to the side as if she was listening to something very far away that only she could hear. “Travel th-through the Void. Something in the Void…” She shuddered, then sagged forward under her own weight like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A moment later she righted herself shakily, her hand flexing in uncomfortable spasms before she forced it under control. “We’ll follow the Path from Geburah t-to Highest Yetzirah,” she said in a more solid voice. She tapped the line of golden light that started at the top of her right hip, followed it up along her side to her shoulder, then up the side of her neck to finally tap the apex knot of light on her forehead.

There must have been several dozen golden lines intertwining across her body; Michael felt improper trying to visually connect them all, even though he knew there was no risk of her noticing his staring and taking offense. “Do each of those marks represent a different Path?”

“N-n-not each of them, n-no,” Aeon Raphael stammered.

“What do the other marks represent?” Michael asked when she showed no sign of elaborating.

Aeon Raphael did not respond. She was staring at nothing in particular and flexing her fingers as if she had forgotten his presence. Precious moments ticked by in silence. Michael rocked anxiously from foot to foot as he waffled between the desire not to appear rude and his painful awareness of the passage of time. Eventually he could stand the stillness no longer.

“I must speak with my Regent before we depart,” he declared. “Now that you’re awake, would it be acceptable to send in the medical team once more? With your cooperation, they might identify a way of treating your symptoms.”

Aeon Raphael flinched at the sound of his voice as if she had been asleep. “N-no, there’d be no point.”

“The only way you could be certain of that is if you already knew what the problem was.”

This, at least, gave Aeon Raphael pause. “No,” she said thoughtfully, “it’s an.. in-instinct. I-I can’t explain it. It’s something I f-feel, but can’t r-reason with. No one touches me. I can’t a-allow it.”

Michael wanted to argue, to chide her for being foolish with her own health, but he bit his tongue. Aeon Raphael was not one of his daeva. She would eventually be leaving Hod, after which she would no longer be his problem. He had offered help and she had refused; his obligation to and influence over her ended there. “Well, the offer stands and I would encourage you to consider it, but it is your decision and no one will force you to do otherwise. I will send someone to bring you a meal and a fresh change of clothes. Is there anything else you will need before we leave?”

There was another long pause as Aeon Raphael slowly gathered up the surrounding blankets to draw them over her head and shoulders like a cloak. “I-I recognise you,” Aeon Raphael said, her quiet voice almost lost among the blankets. “At f-first I didn’t, b-but I should know you. It’s s-so important, but I c-can’t recall.”

“I’ve been here since you arrived in Hod,” Michael offered.

“N-no, it’s more than that. I could hear y-your voice while I-I was dreaming. Y-you were speaking of… We were…” She trailed off, sounding lost and confused as she struggled to remember.

“I was attempting to contact Tiphareth before you arrived,” Michael said. “There was some interference that prevented the transmission from connecting properly, however. Is it possible you’re recognising the Sephirah Hod? Hod certainly recognised Tiphareth; it’s how I knew who you were.”

Sitting cocooned under her blanket shield, Aeon Raphael went very still. “It’s so important,” she whispered to no one in particular. “I-I wish I knew why.”

She made no move to acknowledge him again, lost in her own head. Meanwhile, the deadline for the council loomed ever closer. Michael exhaled; it was a struggle to remain stationary when every muscle in his body urged him to move. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now. Someone will be in shortly to check if you need anything before we leave.”

Aeon Raphael did not react even as he left the room.

The group in the hallway looked every bit as tense at his return as they had when he shut them out. Ciel had vanished, presumably to see to Umahel, but Remiel and Mahariel remained in the same position and two of the healers hovered nearby. Their reactions to his appearance prompted Michael to wonder what his own expression must have looked like.

“My Aeon, what happened? What did she say?” Remiel asked.

Michael waited until he had securely shut the door to the room before he turned to the nearest of the remaining healers. “Could you please see that Aeon Raphael is provided with a meal, a clean change of clothes, and anything else she may require? Keep a respectful distance at all times, but she must be ready to travel post-haste.”

“Michael, what have you learned?” asked Remiel.

Michael gestured for his Saerim to follow him a short way down the hallway. Once they had achieved a modicum of privacy, he leaned down and whispered with barely controlled panic, “The trip to Kether will take nearly a day.”

“That is… less than ideal,” said Remiel, his face paling. “You can’t mean to leave immediately? We’re not prepared!”

“I don’t know that we have much choice, Remiel!” Michael hissed. “The King has summoned us and we must obey.”

“My Aeon, I am against the idea that we must send you into the Void alone,” Mahariel said, frowning. “I recognise that the trip is unavoidable, but you are the Aeon of Hod and we cannot allow you to risk yourself. I wish to accompany you along with a contingent of disciplined officers. If there is a threat to be found along these Paths, we will confront it together.”

Michael bit his lip and rocked back on his heels as he waffled. Would it be acceptable to arrive at court in Kether with a full party of armed guards? Surely a certain amount of pomp and pageantry was to be expected from the first official gathering of the Aeons, and when one considered the alarming possibility that something unknown lurked in the Void, powerful and aggressive enough to cripple the Aeon of Tiphareth, it seemed positively reasonable to travel with an entourage. Had the situation been different and he been the one presiding over such a gathering, Michael would have encouraged his people to travel in groups for their own safety. Yet it was likewise easy to imagine how unsettled he would feel if one of the other Aeons arrived in Hod for a supposedly social gathering with a heavily armed force. How would the King view the issue? As difficult as it was to admit, for the moment, he couldn’t say for certain.

“Four guards,” he decided. “You may bring four guards, not an entire company. This is a diplomatic trip and will ideally be very boring. Kit your team appropriately and be waiting in the palace courtyard; we’ll meet you there shortly.”

Mahariel’s face lit up with a brilliant smile and she bowed quickly. “Yes, my Aeon.”

As she trotted down the hallway and out of sight, Remiel scowled at her back.

“You know I need you here,” Michael told him.

Remiel sighed in disappointment. “Yes, I… understand. I’m not thrilled by it, but I do understand. I am grateful to hear you agree to bring someone you can trust to watch your back. What may I do to assist your preparations to speak with the King, my Aeon?”

“Remiel, I don’t tell you often enough how grateful I am for your terrible attitude and wonderful work ethic,” Michael said. Remiel gestured impatiently for him to hurry up and get to the point, readying his information pad for any notes he might need to take. “I’ll be gone, what? Just over two days? Provided nothing else goes wildly wrong, you ought to be able to proceed as usual in the meanwhile. Put together a list of anything you suspect you might need my approval on before I leave.”

“What shall we tell the people?” Remiel asked. “There’s already a fair bit of unease over the appearance of these Paths and the evacuation. Knowing you’re gone will only exacerbate their fears.”

“I’m worried this will cost too much time, but I think we ought to hold a kindling before I go,” Michael said.

Remiel perked up at the suggestion and scribbled a quick note. “A kindling is an excellent idea, my Aeon. After the events of the day, it would bring much needed comfort to many as well as providing you an opportunity to address their most pressing concerns. I’ll see that the preparations are made in time. It will be a hastily composed ceremony, but I doubt that will matter overmuch.” He hesitated a moment, then asked tentatively, “Michael, have you given much thought to what you’ll say to Most High?”

“Yes, more than I care to admit,” Michael said, his gaze dropping to the floor in his discomfort. “None of it seemed sufficient and now I am out of time.”

“I’m certain you will find the words you need when the time comes,” Remiel said.

Michael couldn’t meet his gaze. He wasn’t nearly so confident when it came to matters related to the King.