Seasons in the Abyss (Book 4 EptaBorromean Realms)

Chapter 4.11

"Cultivate," the beast ordered as soon as it sensed Angeline moving.

Angeline did not hesitate, and began cultivating the new memories into her body. After so many trials, she understood the purpose of this place now. It was not gained energy that she cultivated, but unlocked muscle memories of a sort. In this place, she was reclaiming everything that had been taken and locked away from her by that woman.

She felt a darkness spinning with a light inside her dantian. As the two circled faster, the energy stores within her core began to coalesce and blend, becoming firmer and more solid. The effect caused a pulse of electricity to shoot out through her meridians, broadening them even further. Unlike when she first moved the 'heavy' energy, this effort no longer taxed her body.

She had passed four seasons within the Abyss. She knew where she came from. She knew who her family was, but she did not have all of the answers. She still did not know her name. Though she had had several names through many lifetimes, they were not her name.

Names held power. Without her name, she could not claim her full power. She needed more memories.

"How many?" she asked the beast.

"How many of what?" It responded.

"How many more trials need to be completed?" she asked.

"You have barely begun. Why are you so impatient?"

"How long is a season within the Abyss?" she asked instead of answering.

"It is a drop in the bucket of time." The beast responded.

"How long?" She asked again.

"A season within the Abyss is twenty years within the mortal realms," it responded.

"Give them all back. This method is taking too long," Angeline said, opening her onyx eyes to stare back at the beast.

"You are not strong enough," it said, dismissing her demand.

"That is for me to decide. Now give them to me. Give me back what was taken!" She commanded, her intention so powerful that the walls of the Abyss trembled.

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Among the mortal realms, living creatures sensed a great vibration, like an earthquake. Though not uncommon, the fact that all seven realms shared the same experience was unsettling. The newly revitalized Mobocracy was called to session to assess the possible cause and damages sustained.

Within Limbo, Mammon sat upon his throne discussing the statuses of the nine towers with his sons. Dealing with dead souls was a dirty business, but it paid so well when the compensation was vitality through God given energy. And he held an endless supply of that energy, tucked away in a small pocket of hell.

While the seven realms only felt the earth move, the towers of Hell and Limbo felt a vacuum of power that instantly weakened the collective. Mammon's only indication that something was coming was a noise. It was barely enough to even register, before the pull against him hit. His body, previously seated proudly on his throne, suddenly lurched forward and vomited ichor at his feet.

"Father!" ten princes shouted simultaneously.

Mammon refused to look at his sons. How long had it been since he usurped the powers of a goddess, feeding all of that ill gotten energy into Limbo? How long had the demons of hell thrived in these times plenty? Something had changed among the pantheon of the seven realms. He had only experienced such pulls of power a handful of times in his infinite existence. A new divinity would soon come to claim his kingdom.