I stumbled back into the golden mirror-room of the Emporium. The red-haired receptionist was leaning against the wall, grinning like he'd been waiting for me to come out of a play.
"Not bad," he said. "You've got a follower already. Looks like the pool agrees with you, sir."
I nodded, still feeling that new connection thrumming in my chest. "Yeah. It'll do."
He beckoned me along, and we walked back to the main reception. Once on his tall desk again, his tone turned serious.
"Now, listen closely. There's a grace period for all new gods. You'll be allowed to descend into the mortal world freely for one year, no summoning rituals required. After that, access closes. You'll have to rely on messengers to carry your will."
I frowned. "A year isn't long."
"You can petition the council for more, if the situation demands it," he explained, "though they rarely grant it without good reason. For now, use your time wisely."
He unrolled a parchment map and slid it toward me. "Another thing: every god needs a place of residence. Open plots are in the north of the city. Pick one, establish yourself. From there, who knows? Maybe one day you'll climb high enough to be called a godhead."
I took the map, rolling it up under my arm. "Ambitious much?"
"Just stating the possibilities," he said with a sly smile.
I offered him my own grin, gave a short bow, and stepped out into the dazzling streets of the god-city, map in hand, my chest still humming with the bond of my first apostle.
I walked for maybe twenty minutes until I found a clearing where other gods were scattered about, staring at empty patches of land like architects who'd lost their blueprints. Some had their brows furrowed in deep thought, no doubt picturing what kind of palace, shrine, or absurd monstrosity would best scream I am a god.
"Hey," I called out, "how does one actually claim a plot here?"
A blue-skinned god glanced up from his corner and offered me a genial smile.
"New, huh? Just pick a place. The city is open to all gods. You only need to follow the council's rules."
"That's it?" I raised a brow. "No paperwork? No forms in triplicate?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Just respect the council. That's all."
Sounds like a scam. Or a cult.…Though, honestly, I'm hardly one to talk. I am a walking, talking multiversal cult franchise.
"Oh truly?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Yes," he said simply, and returned to examining his plot.
When I turned, I spotted a god with the head of a dog. He wasted no time, snapping his fingers until timber and nails appeared out of nothing. A few moments later, the frame of a large kennel, no, a dog house, stood tall in the plot.
A dog god building a dog house. Typical? I dunno very funny though
Shaking my head, I picked a patch for myself and conjured ivory bricks and panes of glass. I raised my hands, and the bricks stacked themselves into neat walls. In a few hours, I'd crafted a modern-looking home. Clean lines, ivory walls, a roof that actually had symmetry—very un-godlike by local standards.
The furniture I shaped from wood, though there was no TV.
A shame.
So I hung my divine pool on the wall where a flat-screen ought to be.
Close enough.
Stepping into the mirror, the void wrapped around me. This time, galaxies and constellations floated in the infinite dark. This place was unlike the real void where only darkness ruled. I thought of Enoch, and the world dissolved.
I reappeared above his city. It looked different than last time. More intact, freshly repaired in its center. The streets bustled with life. People carried baskets, children chased one another, masons hauled stone.
At the heart of the settlement stood a statue. Stone, weathered, of a man in a red toga, his hand stretched outward. The face was blank, but I recognized myself.
That's definitely me.
I descended, slipping into a disguise, and walked among the settlers. Hammers clanged, scaffolds creaked. The air smelled of dust and ash.
My thoughts called for Enoch, and a golden pulse rippled from a two-story building behind the statue. I ducked into a shaded shack, waiting.
Moments later, Enoch burst from the doors, eyes scanning the streets. When my tug on his consciousness reached him, his gaze locked on me. He sprinted over, slipped into the shack, and dropped to his knees.
"Most holy greetings, my lord," he said, forehead pressed to the dirt.
"Rise, Enoch."
He obeyed, but reverence still clung to his face.
"What's going on here?" I asked.
"The city is not lost, my lord," he said eagerly. "I found my comrades and called them back. They are unsure of you still, even after witnessing me strike down a beast three times my size. But… they gather at your statue, contemplating. The seed is planted. It only needs nurturing."
I folded my arms. "And how do you suggest we 'nurture' them?"
He hesitated, then said, "A battle approaches. The enemy has twice our numbers, and morale is low. We fight only because there is nowhere to flee. What they need…" He paused, and a faint smile tugged his lips. "…is a miracle."
Of course they do.
"When's this little battle?"
"In two days' time, my lord."
Before I could respond, a commotion broke out nearby, shouts, cries, a gathering crowd.
"Go see," I said.
Enoch ran. Through his eyes, I saw the scene: a woman sobbing in the dirt, a man looming above her with his hand raised.
"You bitch!" he roared. "How dare you cheat on me?"
"I did no such thing, Malcom! I've been faithful all these years!" she cried.
"That child isn't mine. He doesn't look like me, or my father! What else could it be?" His voice cracked with fury.
He slapped her, hard. Gasps rippled through the onlookers.
Enoch strode forward, his face thunderous.
"Malcom, what are you doing?"
"She betrayed me!" the man shouted, wild-eyed. "That brat isn't mine. She bore a mongrel!" He raised his hand again—
And I slipped into Enoch like slithery tendrils. A golden halo burst above his head, and wind whipped across the square. Malcom staggered back, landing on his ass.
"The first commandment," our voices boomed together, mine and Enoch's mingling. "Raise not thy hand against the guiltless, for the hand that does so, I shall break."
The statue blazed with golden light, radiating divine essence. The crowd trembled and fell to their knees.
"The divine speaks through him!" an old man whispered, his beard quivering.
Others pressed their foreheads to the ground. Malcom had wet himself. The woman blinked through her tears, stunned that they had stopped flowing.
I released Enoch, and calm slowly returned to the square.
That should do it.
As the crowd started praying, the heavy feeling in my heart grew. I felt a connection with the hundred or so people in front of me. They had accepted me in their hearts.