between the dimensions, opened by the humans’ negligent stewardship of this realm. Septis knew that little time remained before his life would become forfeit.
He could feel traces of Fortitudo Dei left in the city, the tiny echoes made by the growing power of the boy’s abilities. They were fresh and had been stronger here than in any other place. Yet the boy still lived.
Septis questioned his own capabilities, mainly his ability to track this target. He and Gabriel were connected, each possessing power that mirrored the other’s, making Gabriel the only child that Septis could find before the archangels reached their full potential as defenders of this realm. Where Fortitudo Dei brought strength to those around him, emboldening their own power, Septis could weaken his enemies by feeding off their fear and hate, transforming it into physical shadow.
Earth was ripe with such polluted thought. The boy’s power had shined like a beacon among it, leading Septis to New York. To the cathedral.
But the boy had slipped from his grasp by the time Septis arrived. In his bloodlust, his raw animalistic rage, he had been careless. The thrill of taking his enemy’s life had overpowered him in his greed to be triumphant in the eyes of Mastema. Now their cause lay in jeopardy.
As he watched work continue on the remains of the cathedral, Septis called to his shadows. Unnoticed by the passing humans, they flowed inside his suit and down his legs to his shined shoes, spilling over them and seeping into the ground. Through the dark smoke, he could feel the earth around him.
The shadows moved in the energies of the realm that ran through the world like a connected stream of consciousness, a network made by the interactions of all its living inhabitants. They rode its currents, searching for the boy’s light amongst so much darkness. Then he felt it—a place nearby, saturated in the essence of Fortitudo Dei.
Septis turned from the cathedral and moved quickly through the city until, after some time, he came to a small café swarming with the human pests.
He entered, the doorbell chiming as it opened. Gabriel had been here and often. Remnants of his power lingered inside the building like a stench. One tall table in particular reeked more than any other. Septis sat in its high leather chair and surveyed the shop. The essence of Fortitudo Dei had begun to spoil from time. The boy was not here.
“Hello,” a blonde waitress said. “I’m Coren. Can I get you anything?”
Septis turned to her and smiled. “Thank you, no. But perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a friend who may have frequented your café. He’s approximately your age and goes by the name of Gabriel. I believe he would be a regular, someone you or one of your coworkers might recognize.”
Coren looked at his suit and glossy dress shoes. She rolled her eyes, her smile fading into pursed lips. “Another detective?”
Septis nodded. “Detective Smith.”
“I guessed. You know, a couple of you guys came by this morning when we were in our morning slam. The lunch rush isn’t much of an improvement on your timing. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them—I haven’t seen Gabe since his seizure here several days ago.” She stopped talking, as if recalling the memory. “It was horrible. If he’s not at the hospital, he’s with his father, I would think.”
“We thought as much.” Septis stood and moved to the door. “I apologize for being redundant, but I have not yet spoken with the other detectives. Do you have a description of the boy’s parent?”
“Well, Father Joseph Adam came in here only once. Thin guy, fifty-something. Black hair, British.”
“British?” Septis asked.
“That’s right. Oh, and he was trying to help Gabe get his application accepted at NYU, if that helps. Hey, shouldn’t you be writing this down? You know, a little organization might help keep you guys from stumbling into each other’s investigations.” Coren
He could feel traces of Fortitudo Dei left in the city, the tiny echoes made by the growing power of the boy’s abilities. They were fresh and had been stronger here than in any other place. Yet the boy still lived.
Septis questioned his own capabilities, mainly his ability to track this target. He and Gabriel were connected, each possessing power that mirrored the other’s, making Gabriel the only child that Septis could find before the archangels reached their full potential as defenders of this realm. Where Fortitudo Dei brought strength to those around him, emboldening their own power, Septis could weaken his enemies by feeding off their fear and hate, transforming it into physical shadow.
Earth was ripe with such polluted thought. The boy’s power had shined like a beacon among it, leading Septis to New York. To the cathedral.
But the boy had slipped from his grasp by the time Septis arrived. In his bloodlust, his raw animalistic rage, he had been careless. The thrill of taking his enemy’s life had overpowered him in his greed to be triumphant in the eyes of Mastema. Now their cause lay in jeopardy.
As he watched work continue on the remains of the cathedral, Septis called to his shadows. Unnoticed by the passing humans, they flowed inside his suit and down his legs to his shined shoes, spilling over them and seeping into the ground. Through the dark smoke, he could feel the earth around him.
The shadows moved in the energies of the realm that ran through the world like a connected stream of consciousness, a network made by the interactions of all its living inhabitants. They rode its currents, searching for the boy’s light amongst so much darkness. Then he felt it—a place nearby, saturated in the essence of Fortitudo Dei.
Septis turned from the cathedral and moved quickly through the city until, after some time, he came to a small café swarming with the human pests.
He entered, the doorbell chiming as it opened. Gabriel had been here and often. Remnants of his power lingered inside the building like a stench. One tall table in particular reeked more than any other. Septis sat in its high leather chair and surveyed the shop. The essence of Fortitudo Dei had begun to spoil from time. The boy was not here.
“Hello,” a blonde waitress said. “I’m Coren. Can I get you anything?”
Septis turned to her and smiled. “Thank you, no. But perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a friend who may have frequented your café. He’s approximately your age and goes by the name of Gabriel. I believe he would be a regular, someone you or one of your coworkers might recognize.”
Coren looked at his suit and glossy dress shoes. She rolled her eyes, her smile fading into pursed lips. “Another detective?”
Septis nodded. “Detective Smith.”
“I guessed. You know, a couple of you guys came by this morning when we were in our morning slam. The lunch rush isn’t much of an improvement on your timing. I’ll tell you the same thing I told them—I haven’t seen Gabe since his seizure here several days ago.” She stopped talking, as if recalling the memory. “It was horrible. If he’s not at the hospital, he’s with his father, I would think.”
“We thought as much.” Septis stood and moved to the door. “I apologize for being redundant, but I have not yet spoken with the other detectives. Do you have a description of the boy’s parent?”
“Well, Father Joseph Adam came in here only once. Thin guy, fifty-something. Black hair, British.”
“British?” Septis asked.
“That’s right. Oh, and he was trying to help Gabe get his application accepted at NYU, if that helps. Hey, shouldn’t you be writing this down? You know, a little organization might help keep you guys from stumbling into each other’s investigations.” Coren
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