And so, the story of Eliphaz’s blessing complete, we find ourselves back at Shechem, back at the Baal’s temple atop Mount Gerizim. On the threshold of Molek’s inner sanctum, Eliphaz sits silent with a dumbstruck expression, facing the would-be sacrifice. After introducing himself, he isn’t sure of what else to say, instead breathing deep breaths of stale temple air, looking into the endless black of the girl’s eyes, slowly piecing his words together.

It was Narina who spoke first, breaking through his dazed thoughts.

“That’s funny—it says your class makes you a prophet of Ishtar. What is that supposed to mean?”

Eliphaz was taken aback. “You can read that?”

Narina, despite her sorry state, laughed weakly. “Don’t worry, your secret will be safe with me. I’m a Seer—I’ve been one for as long as I can remember. It means I can sense things, including other people’s Systems.”

“If you’re a seer, what were you doing in there, your blood about to be shed in the name of that ghastly Baal? Shouldn’t you be a priest, if you can see things beyond our world?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied, before turning towards the hallway leading out of the temple. “Someone is coming. Given that you just killed one of the Baal’s priests, you’ll have some explaining to do.”

“It was more than just one,” Eliphaz muttered quietly, for he could hear the footsteps now, and soon a shadow appeared from around the corner.

A man appeared at the bend. His skin was dark and smooth, and he was clad in a uniform lined with bronze plates. Overall his appearance was fastidiously kept, hair short and shaven, his posture a near-perfect rigidity. Yet the man’s brown eyes betrayed a credible panic and without warning he collapsed into a heap, throwing his face onto the ground before Eliphaz.

“Oh, great lord! Master of the earth and all that it brings forth! I surrender myself, I throw my fate into the hands of you and your fearful gods! You are like Bast, the god of my youth, and I bow before you only in the hope that I will face the gentle cat of your spirit rather than the fearsome warrior-lion who embodies you. I am at your mercy! This poor, wretched child of the black earth…”

“Enough,” Eliphaz said, standing up before the man. “All I asked was for the surrender of your city, there is no need to grovel like this. What is your name?”

“Weser-ke-Besset,” the man said as he stood up, trying his best to regain his composure and dignity. “Commander of Shechem’s Guard, lowly servant of Pharaoh. By the power vested in me, I surrender the city to your will. Given the ease by which you defeated the High Priest Melzichek and his followers, I don’t have much choice.”

Besset looked at Eliphaz with expectant eyes, waiting for an order. Eliphaz wasn’t sure what to say. He had followed Ishtar’s instructions, found his way to the city and fought his way into Molek’s temple. Not all by himself, mind you. No, the vines had surrounded the city walls by their own accord, and Eliphaz had felt secure facing down the city, knowing that Ishtar was still watching, nudging things into place.

But now, he was alone with a city supposedly at his command. Eliphaz wasn’t sure how he could tell, but he knew that Ishtar was gone, having returned to her desert prison. He was on his own, for now.

“Truth be told, my work in your city is mostly complete. I have defeated your priests, and saved this girl from a most terrible fate.” He gestured at Narina. “Molek is gone, so all I ask of you and your city is that you renounce this Baal, find some new god more worthy than this devourer of human flesh.”

Besset looked at him with narrow, suspicious eyes. “That is all? You don’t want to be prince of our city? Demand a daughter of each household? Nothing of that sort?”

“No...no! Why would you even speak of such sins! I literally told you what I wanted when I entered Shechem—to fight Molek. If you agree to renounce him I have no more business here.” He stopped for a moment before his thoughts caught up with him. “—wait, did you say prince? Is there already a prince of Shechem?”

“Yes,” Besset answered, his face deeply serious. “But a weak one, and a man of your prowess would have no trouble killing him. But may I suggest an alternative: I believe that if you were to prick his thumb with one of your thorns, the sight of blood would frighten him so that he would faint in a matter of seconds. Then, he could be deposed of. The prince is weak, yes, but far too pathetic to suffer the crime of murder. If you would consider this more merciful option, it would lighten my soul.”

“Silence!” Eliphaz shouted, aghast at the Commander’s treasonous suggestion. Besset jumped back and prepared to throw himself on his face again. “Stop it! Stop throwing yourself on the ground! I am not interested in ruling your city, I have no inclination toward such duties. But please, take me to this prince of yours. I’m sure he will be able to clear things up, and maybe help ensure that the worship of Molek does not return to Shechem.”

“Very well,” Besset said, trying his best to calm himself. “I will take you to the prince. Follow me.”

As Besset prepared to leave, Eliphaz turned around to face Narina, who was still seated on the floor and had been watching the exchange with an amused smile.

Eliphaz reached out with his hand. “Come with us. Maybe this prince can help you as well? I won’t promise anything, but when I speak with him I will present you before him and plead your case. Maybe he can grant you an honorable position. Perhaps a young priestess-in-training?”

Narina smiled and said nothing, but took his hand.

—

They proceeded out of the temple, emerging into a city bustling under the rising sun. Despite the morning’s dramatic and fiery proceedings, people had emerged from their buildings of clay and brick. For while Eliphaz had been inside the temple of the savage god, the vines had continued growing, albeit more gently. They were now covering the facades of houses with leafy, ivy-like tendrils, while others stretched over the street in perfect arches, green light filtering through the leaves. The effect was quite beautiful, and it was no surprise that Shechem’s denizens had emerged in order to witness this strange, miraculous turn of events.

Besset, having recovered from his bouts of panic and mutinous thoughts, marched through the wondrous vines without a glance, his eyes locked towards their destination. Only Narina and Eliphaz gawked as they strode through the city. To think that he was responsible for all of this was rather alarming to Eliphaz, and he struggled to come to terms with all that had happened.

But it was true: The vines that he had summoned he had also allowed to simply continue to grow, and so they did in this benign and artful fashion. Focusing on the strange fragment of mana in his soul, Eliphaz found that he could still control the vines around him, even willing them to shrivel and die in a matter of a seconds. Not that he wanted to hinder their growth—he hoped it would be taken as a sign of his goodwill, a means of preventing any further misunderstandings.

“This prince that you mentioned, what’s his name?” Eliphaz asked as they walked. “Before you described him rather regrettably, but I’m sure that was an honest mistake, an unfortunate slip of the tongue. Now that my noble intentions have been established, you may speak more freely of this great man.”

“His name is Prince Hemor,” Besset said, having recollected his calm demeanor . “And I must admit that my previous words hew closer to the truth than my master thinks. For though Hemor is of noble birth and a true Prince of Canaan by blood, his lordship has little concern for the affairs of the city. Most days he spends in the House of Women, entertained by his harem and preoccupied with the pleasures of Astarte.”

Narina scoffed at this remark. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be prince, Eliphaz? Sounds like a fairly cushy job, and I’m sure you would prove far more capable than your predecessor. Then you could personally renounce Molek, and dedicate a new temple towards Isht—”

“Absolutely not,” Eliphaz interrupted. Both the thought of princely duties and his own subservience towards Ishtar brought forth feelings of discomfort. He was descended from a line of shepherds and nomads that prayed only to what was most High, shunning the idolatry and Baal-worship of the Canaanite Princes and their cities. “Why should we stoop beneath the whims and fancies of these Baals, these gods of trees and clouds?” his grandfather would tell him, “when we know that the highest of all gods, the God who sees all from beyond the heavens, Elohim, watches over us? For we are his chosen people, and we are promised greatness through Him, and He is promised greatness through us.”

Eliphaz had heard these stories, and believed them in that way which a child can believe many contradictory things. For all the piety of his grandfather, Eliphaz’s father was not so observant, and Esau would frequently bring offerings before Baal-Hermon or Yam in the anticipation of a hunt. That Elohim was the Highest was certainly true, but why should that mean that other, lesser gods were of no use at all?

In Shechem, Eliphaz had himself witnessed the savagery of the Baals and he had no interest in taking his place among its lords and princes: to do so would be a profane rejection of Elohim and everything his tribe stood for. It was impossible for him to imagine. And yet, his System now dubbed him the [Briarsworn], a servant of a foreign god of the eastern empires, and seemingly a rather vocal enemy of Elohim. Surely that was far worse than lording over some city in Canaan? It was an obvious contradiction that made Eliphaz uneasy, and it was why Narina’s insight had embarrassed him.

These were Eliphaz’s thoughts as they approached the palace of Prince Hemor. Not that it was much of a palace, though it had some crucial palatial aspects: There was a courtyard, situated within several wings buttressed by rows of columns. Beyond the outer wings Eliphaz could sense the foliage of an inner garden, while past that the royal chambers towered over the complex.

With Besset at the helm, they passed wordlessly through the palace gates and into the courtyard, servants and soldiers criss-crossing from either side. Signaling for them to wait, Besset left only to return several minutes later with a woman dressed in a simple but elegant robe.

“This is Mina, Hemor’s Keeper of Guests and Gifts,” Besset explained. “She will ensure you are made...presentable in advance of your appearance before the Prince. Follow her lead and I will see you again within the gallery wherein the Prince conducts matters of the city.”