Returning to the upper floors of the palace, I closed myself in the study and drew out five vials, each filled with the thick, dark blood of that lumpy creature. They were the size of my hand, heavy with something more than just fluid.
I held one up and spoke softly, almost in ritual:
"Ramona, goddess of storms,Lady of Calamity. Heed me."
That title was one we had chosen for her. It still surprised me to learn that gods here had no specific honorifics. Without them, anyone could confuse one deity for another. There were too many: a god of judgment, another of swift judgment, another of delayed judgment. Without the right name, without the honorific, who exactly were you calling to?
Most commoners in the Boundary weren't educated enough to know divine titles. For them, honorifics would belifeline, a simple way to direct their prayers without error. Some might her the word wrong, and instead of Pollux they might call names such as Pallax. The Lady of Calamity. That name alone guided their faith to Ramona and symbolised her divine position.
But this time, I wasn't calling her for prayer, no sir. The honorific let me trace her presence. I felt her in the forest hut not far from the capital. With a thought, I stepped through the veil and appeared there.
Yes, the veil that's what I called my portals. Because why not? When I stepped out of the portal, she was sitting under a tree when I approached. The breeze tugged strands of her blonde colored hair.
"Is the war finished?" she asked, tilting her chin up to me.
"Yes," I said, smiling faintly. "Though calling it a war is quiet generous. We only lost three hundred troops and two paladins. A sweeping victory, really."
Ramona's eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but curiosity. "Then why did you summon me?"
"Oh, right." I reached into my satchel and pulled out one of the vials. "I found something interesting during the battle. I thought you might know what it is."
She took it, examined the blood carefully, then lifted her gaze back to mine.
"This," she said slowly, "is the residual consciousness of the fallen god I told you about."
I blinked. "Wait, so—"
"Congratulations," she interrupted, standing and brushing the dirt from her dress. Her expression was unreadable. "You just killed a god. Well… half of one. But still a god regardless."
I stared at her. "And that's… good? What am I supposed to do with these?"
"Absorb them." She held the vial up to the light. "The divinity inside will become yours. Crude, yes. Dangerous, yes. But effective and very beneficial."
Before I could protest, she uncorked the vials one by one, splashing the blood into the air before me. The thick, metallic scent of divinity clung to my skin. She turned away, already walking off.
"Remember the feeling you get when you receive faith," she called over her shoulder. "Hold onto that. It will guide you."
I sighed, then closed my eyes. My heartbeat quickened, wild, erratic, like when I first touched divinity in the castle basement. The world burst apart, and I found myself standing in a realm of swirling greys and sickly blues.
The land beneath my feet looked shattered, as though an apocalypse had chewed through it. Snake-like shadows slithered across the ground, hissing as they rushed me. Instinctively, I unleashed a surge of divine essence. The creatures disintegrated into ash.
The world trembled as if acknowledging my existance after unleashing that barrage. The skies calmed, if only slightly. But more serpents crawled out from fissures, endless, insidious. I fought them, each one I destroyed turned more of the wasteland into something alive.
Then the visions came. Flashes of memory not my own. A young god, newly born, struck down in some dispute with a higher one. This desolate world, his kingdom of god was now up for claiming by me.
I clenched my fist and swept my hand. The last serpents vanished in a storm of light. I looked up at the shifting sky and spoke aloud:
"No. Not this chaos. I will have order! And then this will be mine."
The greys melted into violet-gold at my command. I floated upward, drawing land out of the heavens, shaping cities of ivory and towers of light. One ring above another, seven in total, each orbiting the world like concentric heavens. The higher the ring, the more it could see below, yet those below would never be able to perceive what was above them.
Five cities on each ring. Thirty-five in all. Places for angels I had yet to create, for the souls of my mortal believers who had followed me in life. Pretending to be Angelos and Michaelos was exhausting, I needed true angels, ones bound to me but not wholly made of my essence. They needed substance, they needed a spirit.
I thought of the five men who had died when I possessed Enoch, back in that ramshackle settlement when the magis' men attacked. Their spirits still lingered. I would use them.
The world below, the earth, would belong to the mortal believers, it would be a second life of some sort. When they died, they would either rise as angels or ascend to the heavens in new "perfect" bodies, living forever in my kingdom.
That would be the true eternal reward.
I poured divine essence into the air until it was thick enough to breathe in. Half of my reserves vanished in that single act alone, but I didn't regret it. On the seventh heaven, I built a throne in the heart of its shining city. From it stretched a carpet woven of stars, rolling downward so that at night it merged seamlessly into the constellations above.
I sat upon that throne, looking down at the heavens and the earth. A long sigh escaped me. Then, in a voice deep and resonant enough to fill this newborn realm, I said:
"Then god rested."