The angel landed, only to throw its head on the ground at my feet. Up close, it looked more human than a mark two. Dangerous, if anyone started using them as influencers. These ones were actually beautiful, if a little disturbingly subservient to ideals imposed at birth.

“Rise, my child,” I ordered graciously. I wasn’t sure yet how intelligent they were, or how deep their embedded knowledge went. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Mayari shot me an incredulous look over its white-robed shoulder and surreptitiously hefted the Spear of Destiny.

“To serve you, lord,” the angel said in an oddly hushed tone that sounded permanently awestruck. It raised its head, eyes wet with tears. “To fight your battles and slaughter your enemies. Glory be.” More of the ocean was busy rising into the sky behind it, a giant bubble boiling up from the sea previously battering against the bottom of the cliff.

“And how organised are you?” I asked it, watching more flying shapes moving in from the air. “If I asked you to fall from the sky right now, would you do it?”

The angels – at least the ones I could see – froze like they’d run into Vishnu, but instead of remaining time-locked, began to plummet like stones.

“Stop,” I said quickly. “Good.”

As predicted, the new cluster shared characteristics of a hive, like Tez with none of the savvy or social skills.

One more screening test. The big one. With great effort, I pushed a vision of Baldr into the angel’s mind. “How do you feel about this man?”

“It is simply a man, lord. What would you have us do with him?”

I let out an invisible breath. “I would have you neutralise him.” I tried to think ahead, accounting for seers. “Listen to nothing he says. Don’t divert for any reason but one I give you, and answer no one’s questions but mine.” That ought to shut down Janus’ interrogation capabilities. It wouldn’t stop him seeing the army coming, but with luck it would at least drive Baldr into a corner.

“We shall find him, lord.”

I’d hoped they might have had some information already. “When you do, I want an ongoing report on his capabilities. Magic, allies and resources, along with their plans.”

“It shall be done.”

Off to the side, Mayari cleared her throat and edged around a boulder-sized water droplet. “Our other targets?” she prompted me.

“Look out for Janus and Pakhet, but don’t strike.”

Apollo nodded out of the the corner of my eye. Janus would have to be taken by surprise, and Pakhet would be better captured alive. These were Hera’s angels, too, certain to lack the resilience of their predecessors. Picking unnecessary fights wouldn’t end well, and they were already bound to draw aggression. I expected many to die.

“And Lucifer?” Mayari asked.

The angel failed to respond, and I repeated the question.

“You hold the implement of his demise,” the angel breathed, gesturing towards the golden spear. “Give it to us, lord, and we shall ensure he will not survive.”

“Keep an eye out,” I said, “but don’t engage.”

The angel shot me a dubious glance through its tears. Evidently that one had been pre-programmed in.

“Lucifer is canny,” I added by way of explanation. “Leave him to me.”

“We will give everything to protect you, lord.” Not a yes. Interesting. Inconvenient, but I’d take what I could get. Also disturbing, but there were no surprises there.

“Two of you should accompany us,” I ordered the one in front of me. “You’ll need to carry those two.”

“I’d prefer my chariot,” Apollo muttered, “but fine.”

The angel glanced at me with a querying expression. “Is this not the one who betrayed you, lord?”

“Ah,” I responded. “That was the loathsome Odin, who abused my trust to poison my flock with lies and misdirection. And after I had been so generous towards him, too. Others are not so far gone. As a forgiving god, I have accepted Apollo’s heartfelt statement of repentance and expect you to learn from my example.”

“Always, lord,” it said, in a whisper as grating as it was repetitive. In a dramatic swoop of wings, a second angel touched down beside it having avoided several seawater baths, and they both dropped to touch their heads to the ground again. It let me share another glance with my allies.

I wasn’t sure about the mark threes. The devotion was there, but also more independence. We’d have to keep up the act, and if I was wrong about Baldr, be ready for them to turn on us at a moment’s notice. I was staking a lot on an assumption. Any party on the opposing team capable of it could tell an angel to lure us in and pretend to be friendly, only to strike when we least expected it. If the tools weren’t obviously angels, I’d be doing the same to our enemies.

“Apollo,” I began. “If Gia checks them –”

“Clear,” he confirmed, but didn’t untense.

Mayari nodded in the direction of the angels, angling for some space. I had them back off a bit and pulled the rest of us aside, traipsing over the ruins of the garden. Enormous basins of water continued to rise past the cliff. Apollo parked himself on one half of the broken table and stared out at them in the dark, the forerunners lit only by our own local illumination.

“What is it?” I asked Mayari.

“Can they even kill him?” the celestial goddess whispered. “Where did they come from? These aren’t the angels I know.”

“Hera summoned them before she died. And they can try. Arguably it’s better if they don’t, given the number of death gods on the rise. But if he does hit the void, Hel will be on lookout to keep him there.”

“And how will we do that? The spear might do it, but we’d be better with something from your pantheon.”

I couldn’t think of one. The tyrant had been thorough when it came to the Aesir’s defeat, having learnt certain lessons from the past. I brought out Odin’s surviving ring with some minor slight of hand, but it made for a poor candidate. It wasn’t one of the powerhouses, just a small part of a smorgasbord he’d used to defend himself. Repurposed, perhaps we could use it, but there wasn’t much material there.

I was a weapon, of course, as was anyone from the Norse contingent. And there were always traps. I had to assume Baldr would already have requisitioned Singapore’s copy of the god bomb; we wouldn’t have that on our side again so quickly.

It had been so long. Hours, from Baldr’s perspective, but more than enough time for him to escalate in ability. Mayari was right; a proper weapon would help. And as far as materials went, there was one source from the right pantheon I’d never run short on.

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced at Apollo. “Is this a good idea?”

“As good as any,” he answered without moving. “They’re getting closer, so make your decision quickly.”

Noted. I thought for a minute, then carefully shifted out the last of the Yggdrasilian apples. I didn’t know if what I was doing was strictly viable, but if ever I could make it happen, it would be now. The fruit rested in my palm next to the ring, impossibly anchored in reality in ways I couldn’t normally feel; reaching across dimensions that didn’t and couldn’t exist, and connecting to something – very far off but getting closer – reaching back.

I took control of it, getting the wind punched out of me in the process. Divine weapons weren’t made easily, or everyone would do it. I wasn’t only reshaping its form this time, but the forces underscoring it, which felt like trying to tear a whole tree up by its roots. Given its origin, I might be. As if to make the point, the cliff top rumbled beneath my feet.

I poured divine energy into my palm, drawing on the place of power with abandon. More rumbles sounded, and my hair tousled in an unseen wind. Overblown sticks wouldn’t cut it here. I needed something to take on everything divinity had to offer. Something glorious. Detection, seeking a rightful owner. Redirection, turning others’ attempts aside. Transformation to alter the rules at a critical juncture. Containment to ensure new ones couldn’t be retrieved. Obfuscation, deflecting attention away from the danger. Misdirection, hiding the tool’s true nature, and concealment, muffling its approach.

More than that, I wanted it to be me in some inherent aspect. For whatever reason, I’d been spared Baldr’s effects, and maybe that would help. Not to mention the pent-up rage, frustration and sheer excruciating silence that had paid for my last shreds of credibility.

Cracks formed under my feet, drawing the angels’ attention. More of them clustered in the skies, and I waved them back. Let them think Yahweh was working some vast display of heavenly might.

In reality, I was running out of ammunition. For all my wild strength, it wasn’t enough to forge an answer. I could feel what I wanted infuriatingly just out of reach, the pieces lacking momentum to slot into place, as if over a millennium of shapeshifting suddenly wasn’t enough to push a single limb into place. It was me, it was part of me – but also not, and I hadn’t satisfied the remainder.

It wanted more.

I knew what I could choose. Odin had done it before me, and compared to other options, it was a solid choice. I was already battered enough that my shapeshifting would probably never be perfect again, and what was one eye when I could always make more? A tongue, hand or lung would do just as well, I was sure.

But no. It wasn’t in character for Yahweh, who needed to be perfect, and I needed the support of the angels. Nor would I take the actual tyrant’s approach of sacrificing from external sources. Better to choose something they’d never realised I had. For me, it wasn’t even that major a loss.

But damn, if it wasn’t going to hurt.

Gritting my teeth, I reached into the centre of myself, where the soul was, and cast the runes. Not a coherent spell or part of one, but the entire Futhark alphabet thrown in whole, choked and swollen with power. I felt the danger of its potential, much like it would feel to have my fingers clasped around my actual eyeball, and about as terrifying. I pulled anyway, lips parting in a guttural scream, and the release surged out of me into the aether, discharge fuelling the boost I needed to exceed my inherent capabilities. Much was lost immediately, but in the remnants shapes took form and bound together, characters propelling themselves into spectral combinations I couldn’t begin to memorise or decipher.

It concentrated at last in the palm of my hand, intent meeting form, and I drove it the rest of the way to finality, making it do what I wanted because it was, now, a part of me.

Until it wasn’t, and the weapon dropped inert into my hand, the apple and ring nowhere to be seen along with a sizeable part of my magic.

I felt drained. My hair was a mess, my robes had been buffeted by invisible currents, and the courtyard had been hit by an earthquake. New cracks ran up the side of the hacienda, and a small part of the roof had caved in. Below our feet the roots I’d pulled were still rising, and I knew we had limited time.

As a test, I drew an algiz rune into the mud with the tip of one shoe, but it was just a collection of lines. The demonic runes that had been with me since creating Lucifer’s lords were also nowhere to be found, even Regina’s, who was standing right next to me. I scratched another into the courtyard, trying again, and only ended up smearing dirt around. I could see the markings, but they weren’t really there.

Not to me.

I examined the device in my hand. It was a slim wooden disc bound with fine silver trim, hollow in the centre and about the same size as a frisbee. The circle was flat, with the rim approximately three centimetres wide.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed. I rapped a knuckle on the timber and flipped it over to find it identical on the other side. “It’s just another piece of Yggdrasil. Not even the tasty bit.”

I ran a finger across the decidedly blunt edges and concluded it wouldn’t be hurting anyone as a thrown object. The disc didn’t radiate much divine energy, either, which I hoped had more to do with the misdirection facets of the spell and less with creating a failure. It hadn’t felt like a dud a moment ago. There was something there, but a fraction of what I’d expected. When Apollo didn’t immediately stop me, I stuck an arm through the centre and looked through at my fingers on the other side.

Mayari sidled up and peered through from the opposite direction. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered, a little mystified myself. I picked up the circle and held it in front of my face. There was definitely something there, even if I couldn’t see it.

“I think,” said Regina, treading dubiously across the cracks, “it’s a shadow.”

“Of what?” asked Mayari.

“Whatever this is,” I uttered. I decided not to mention what I’d given up in return, or that I’d lost anything at all. I didn’t imagine it would go down well.

“You don’t know? How is that going to help us?” she chided me. “We need a weapon, not a toy.”

“It should be. I had a purpose in mind. Besides, anything’s a weapon if you’re creative enough.” I withdrew the arm and glanced up at the still-gathering angelic host, who weren’t proving themselves great at following instructions. “Until then, I can always pass it off as a halo I may or may not be able to bludgeon people to death with.” The plagiarism did help stave off the developing pit in my stomach accompanying a yawning self-inflicted mistake.

Apollo finally took his elbows off his knees and straightened to mud-streaked attention. He was right; the noise of battle was getting closer, or expanding, rather – flashes and pings firing off in the back of my head to add to the existing mass of distractions.

“It is a weapon,” Regina declared. My high priestess wasn’t watching the item, instead staring off to the side as if working through something. “Just not here. Can I?” She held out a hand.

I put the halo in it and watched as the demon lord gingerly moved it around, only stepping aside to avoid one of the larger immediate seawater blobs encroaching over the edge of the promontory. She turned back towards the far side of the courtyard, near the cliff face, and brushed past Apollo on the table. She stopped after a few more paces, exactly where Lucy had previously opened his abyssal portal. Of it, no visible traces remained.

“Here,” she said, and offered me the circlet.

Apollo stood up and moved towards her, his eyes on the sky. Flying, Mayari followed suit brandishing the tyrant-killer, and the angels fanned out around the courtyard in a spiral of wings. A physical flash lit the sky, turning it momentarily white and enormous bubble-filled before plunging us all back into the new status quo.

I warped over and took my weapon back, aiming it towards the site of the Abyss. Again, there was something. More of whatever it was – residual magic, perhaps – but still unhelpful.

Until I examined it like I would one of the multiverse’s old dimensional scars, and the space between the timber exploded to life.

Through it lay the recognisable rock walls of the Abyss, clear as day. It looked much like it had when I’d visited, except for the small contingent of restless child demons crowded around the ridge. The view moved with the halo, carried along with me, but none of the audience seemed to notice. In my current guise, I didn’t try to gain it.

But there was more. I shifted view again, down towards the tug at my feet. The Abyss and the ground disappeared. In their place, I saw soft, bright light, endless sky and a mass of twisting roots young, gnarled and spitting out leaves as they filtered up towards me. Yggdrasil.

“There.” Regina leaned in over my shoulder, pointing at the contents within. “That’s where it really exists.”

“I don’t see anything,” Mayari uttered, sparing it brief glances between vigilance.

I stared at the roots. They weren’t far away, and weren’t very slow. “In Yggdrasil?”

“And Lucifer’s domain before it. I think it follows wherever you’re looking.” She swallowed. “I think you should use it.”

“I’m still lost on the weapon part,” I said. A portable dimensional window was useful in itself in less volatile circumstances. Perhaps as more than a viewing platform, though I wasn’t going to fit through as Yahweh.

Without warning, the sky heaved. Several of the slowly-migrating seawater islands twisted and shunted position like fragments on a country-sized kaleidoscope. It threw me off-balance for a second, and when I cleared my head the angels were in full frenzy. I couldn’t make out what they were fighting.

I was just in time to catch Regina buckling at the waist with a cry as an angel swooped down and gathered her up, launching back into the air thick with wings. A metre away, Apollo batted one off and sidestepped a second.

“Bifrost,” he said, and warped out of the path of a third grabby grunt. He reappeared behind it, only to pirouette out of another’s way. “And there’s who they’re fighting.” He pointed upwards and warped again.

Mayari and I followed its direction in time to see the sky shift again, plunging half the angels above us into liquid suspension, their movements languid and sluggish. Where Apollo had pointed, a figure had materialised in the centre of one of the bubbles, less sluggishly. It swam around the advancing angels as if the water was air, easily outmanoeuvring them. Before I had a chance to react, it had darted behind one and snapped its neck backward, kicking it down through the bubble.

This did not go down well with the angels, and more converged. “Get Baldr,” I yelled, before they lost sight of the mission.

The figure’s head turned at my voice. I recognised Ao Guang, the Dragon King and fellow Helpdesk employee, and racked my brains trying to remember if he’d been among the decontaminated.

It didn’t actually matter, because Amaterasu arrived a moment later in an aura of fire. Apollo’s official solar duty replacement appeared in a third sudden shift and searing white heatwave frying my retinas. She definitely hadn’t been on the roster.

All the water instantly erupted in steam, including some of the ocean that hadn’t risen yet. Several angels immediately burnt to a crisp and plunged from the sky, which got the others’ attention. Ao Guang, still unaffected, used the distraction to plunge Amaterasu into a fresh body of seawater and force the substance into her lungs. She twisted and choked, but only for a second, and the ocean evaporated again.

Angels dived at them both.

“Bifrost,” Apollo said again, more insistently. “More are on their way. I can’t get a shot without turning the winged idiots on me.”

I raised my eyebrows, but lifted the halo and pointed its window at Amaterasu. I might not have known what the hell I was holding, but I did have experience punching the Bifrost through obstacles. It had been a while, but it wasn’t the sort of skill you tended to forget.

Ao Guang somersaulted back as the sky kaleidoscoped a fourth time, and broke another angel’s neck. The distraction cost him, and he suffered a blow to the face from another. It immediately met a fiery end being teleported into the range of Amaterasu’s flames.

I waited an interminably long second for him to get out of the way, and told my not-Bifrost to open a door. In Amaterasu.

Instead, I was the one who disappeared.