Chapter Seven — The Ways of Men
There were records in Israel that were never read aloud.
Not before the tribes. Not before the elders. Not even before most of the men entrusted with judging them.
They were kept beneath Shiloh, sealed behind stone and cedar, where generations of Levites had preserved accounts too dangerous, too strange, or simply too poorly understood to become common knowledge.
Some spoke of beasts that had lived before the Flood. Others told of men who walked into fire and emerged untouched. There were accounts of dreams that toppled kingdoms, covenants that followed entire bloodlines, and warriors whose Faith Essence became so great that the earth itself struggled beneath their feet.
But among the oldest parchments was a collection of testimonies with no proper name.
Seven surviving accounts.
Seven individuals separated by hundreds of years.
None shared a bloodline. None shared an Awakening.
Some had never awakened at all.
Yet every account contained the same disturbing detail.
They spoke.
And something listened.
One passage, written in faded ink by a Levite whose name had long since been lost, contained only three lines.
A man who moves Faith Essence possesses power.
A man who commands Faith Essence possesses authority.
But when Heaven answers the voice of a man—
watch him carefully.
The scroll had remained untouched for eighty-three years.
Until now.
The heavy doors of the Judges' hall opened.
An elderly man entered carrying a wooden chest against his chest. Age had bent his back and thinned his grey hair, but his eyes remained sharp enough that Jair instinctively straightened when they landed on him.
Two younger Levites followed behind.
The old man stopped before Othniel.
"You summoned records from the sealed collection."
"I did."
"And then, for reasons known only to you, decided the records themselves were not enough. You wanted me as well."
Othniel smiled faintly. "I thought you'd appreciate getting out of Shiloh."
"I'm eighty-nine."
"That would be a no, then."
The old man stared at him for a long moment.
Shamgar lowered his head to hide a smile.
The Levite noticed anyway.
"Something amusing?"
"No, Keeper."
"Good."
He placed the chest on the table.
"Now tell me why I've crossed half of Israel."
Othniel glanced towards Ehud.
She understood.
"There's a boy in Zorah."
The Keeper waited.
"Seven years old. His name is Samson."
Still nothing.
"He hasn't awakened."
The old man gave a small nod. "And?"
"He killed a Rank One lion."
That got his attention.
His gaze moved slowly back towards Ehud.
"You saw this?"
"No. I saw the aftermath, and I examined the beast myself."
"So you believe the boy?"
"I do now."
"Now?"
Ehud leaned back slightly.
"When I first arrived, I wasn't sure what to believe. He looked ordinary. More than ordinary, actually. He could barely carry a bucket without getting tired."
Jair frowned. "The same child who supposedly caved in a lion's skull?"
"The same one."
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does if you let her finish," Othniel said.
Jair sighed and gestured for Ehud to continue.
"His Faith Essence was depleted," she said. "Not merely empty. There was something wrong with the way his reservoir felt."
The old Levite's expression changed.
"How wrong?"
"Like there was nothing there for his body to hold."
Tola spoke from farther down the table.
"Essence Debt?"
The Keeper looked towards him.
"That was my first thought."
Jair looked between them. "You can owe Faith Essence?"
The Keeper settled into his chair.
"You can owe almost anything if you're foolish enough."
"That isn't an answer."
"It is. You simply dislike it."
Jair opened his mouth, then stopped himself.
The old man continued.
"A spiritual vessel normally spends what it contains. When that reserve is exhausted, the person can no longer maintain a technique."
"That much I know."
"Good. Then imagine forcing the vessel to continue after that point."
Jair's brows furrowed. "Where does the power come from?"
"From what you have yet to recover."
Jair was quiet for a moment.
"So you borrow against your future Faith Essence."
"Exactly."
Shamgar leaned forward. "And the cost?"
"At first? Exhaustion. Weakness. Tremors. Fever. New Faith Essence is consumed paying the deficit instead of replenishing the usable reserve."
"And if you keep going?" Othniel asked.
The Keeper looked at him.
"Then eventually the debt is no longer paid with Essence."
The chamber became quieter.
"Flesh. Lifespan. The stability of the vessel itself. Go far enough and the spirit begins paying."
Jair's expression lost some of its usual humour.
"So the boy nearly damaged himself killing the lion."
"Possibly."
Ehud shook her head. "More than possibly. For days, nothing answered him."
The Keeper turned back to her.
"You saw him try?"
"I saw what happened when it finally started working again."
His fingers slowly came to rest on the wooden chest.
"Tell me."
Ehud paused, remembering the orchard.
"He left his house after everyone had gone to sleep. I followed him."
Jair gave her a sideways look.
"You followed a seven-year-old into the dark?"
"I was sent to observe him."
"That sounds suspiciously like following."
Ehud stared at him.
Jair looked away.
"He sat beneath an apple tree and prayed," she continued. "Not formally. He just… spoke."
"To whom?" the Keeper asked.
"The Lord."
"How?"
Ehud thought about it.
"Like a child talking to his father."
That quietened the table more effectively than any command could have.
"He thanked Him for his family. Apologised for what happened with the lion. Said he thought he'd asked for too much."
The Keeper frowned. "Asked?"
"Yes."
Ehud leaned forward.
"That's the part you need to understand. Samson doesn't seem to think he's using a technique."
"What does he think he's doing?"
"Asking God for help."
Nobody spoke.
Ehud continued.
"After he prayed, his Faith Essence finally recovered enough for him to use whatever this blessing is again. He unwrapped the wounds on his arm."
The Keeper's eyes narrowed.
"And?"
"He said one word."
"What word?"
"Heal."
The old man froze.
Jair looked from him to Ehud.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"No gesture?"
"No."
"No technique?"
"None that I could detect."
"No circulation?"
"The Faith Essence moved after he spoke."
The Keeper's voice lowered.
"After?"
"Yes."
He looked towards Othniel.
"And the wound?"
"Started closing," Ehud said. "Not completely. He barely had enough Essence. But I watched torn flesh repair itself."
The old Levite sat in silence for several seconds.
Then he opened the wooden chest.
"You should have begun with that."
Othniel smiled. "You would have complained that I was being dramatic."
"I'm still considering it."
He removed several scrolls.
Unlike the clean parchment used throughout the palace, these were yellowed, brittle and wrapped individually in old cloth.
Jair leaned forward.
"So what exactly did she see?"
The Keeper glanced at him.
"Before I answer that, tell me something. What is Faith Essence?"
Jair's expression immediately soured.
"Oh, no."
Shamgar grinned.
"What?"
"I know where this is going."
"Then answer him," Othniel said.
Jair sighed.
"It's the energy we use to cultivate."
The Keeper waited.
Jair frowned. "What?"
"That answer would embarrass a twelve-year-old."
"It isn't wrong."
"It also isn't useful."
He placed one of the scrolls on the table.
"Faith Essence exists within living things whether they cultivate or not. Man. Beast. Plant. Even soil can retain it under certain conditions."
Jair nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know that."
"Then stop calling it something that only exists for cultivators."
That earned a few quiet smiles.
"Awakening doesn't create Faith Essence," the Keeper continued. "It changes your relationship with it. Before Awakening, most people carry Essence without ever consciously sensing it. Afterwards, the spiritual pathways open and the person can begin directing it intentionally."
Shamgar crossed his arms. "And then they discover how weak they actually are."
The Keeper glanced at him.
"For once, a useful contribution."
Shamgar looked strangely proud.
"A newly Awakened child is not a warrior," the Keeper continued. "Opening the vessel is the beginning. Everything after that depends on training."
Othniel nodded. "The Ways."
"Exactly."
The Keeper laid five smaller pieces of parchment across the table.
"For generations, Israel's tribes developed their own methods of cultivation. Some were effective. Some were dangerous. Some were little more than superstition. Eventually, the methods worth preserving were refined into five broad disciplines."
He touched the first parchment.
"The Way of the Body."
Shamgar immediately smiled.
Jair groaned. "Here we go."
"What?"
"You're going to say yours is the best."
"It is."
The Keeper looked between them.
"If either of you turns my explanation into another argument, I'm leaving."
Both men fell silent.
"The Body is the oldest of the Ways. Its practitioners circulate Faith Essence through flesh, bone and blood. At the beginning, the results are simple. Greater strength. Speed. Endurance."
Shamgar lifted one massive arm.
"Eventually it stops being temporary."
The Keeper nodded.
"A skilled practitioner no longer merely strengthens the body with Essence. The body itself begins changing through repeated cultivation."
Othniel added, "Which is why the Body is useful even to someone who specialises elsewhere."
"Precisely. Your technique may fail. Your reservoir may empty. Your body remains."
Ehud thought briefly of Samson throwing himself in front of the charging bull without a drop of usable Essence.
That lesson would suit him.
The Keeper touched the second parchment.
"The Way of Arms."
Jair immediately straightened.
"Now we're talking."
Shamgar snorted.
The Keeper ignored both.
"The principle is simple. Extend Faith Essence beyond the body and into a weapon."
Jair rested his hand against the hilt of his sabre.
"Simple in principle," he said.
"Exactly. Considerably less simple in practice."
The Keeper gestured towards the blade.
"A novice reinforces steel. A master eventually treats the weapon almost as part of his own spiritual vessel. Essence can strengthen it, alter its properties or carry techniques the body cannot safely contain."
Shamgar looked at Jair.
"And yet you still lose to me."
"I'm Rank Four."
"You make excuses beautifully for a Rank Four."
"Can we continue?" Othniel asked.
The Keeper nodded and moved to the third parchment.
"The Way of the Veil."
Ehud immediately felt several eyes turn towards her.
"Don't."
Jair smiled. "I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
The Keeper continued before either could go further.
"The Veil concerns what an enemy fails to perceive. Concealment. Tracking. Awareness. Suppressing one's own presence. Detecting the presence of another."
"And patience," Ehud added.
Jair sighed. "There it is."
She ignored him.
"An accomplished practitioner can walk through places others would struggle even to approach," the Keeper said. "Hunters, scouts and watchers rely heavily upon it."
"Assassins," Jair added.
Ehud tilted her head.
"Only if necessary."
He decided not to ask what qualified as necessary.
The Keeper moved on.
"The Way of the Spirit."
Deborah finally leaned forward.
"That's the one people misunderstand most."
The Keeper nodded.
"Because people hear the word spirit and immediately imagine prophecy."
"Or miracles," Tola added.
"Neither of which can simply be taught."
The Keeper's voice became firmer.
"The Way of the Spirit teaches healing, spiritual perception, divination, the study of blessings and curses, and the interpretation of dreams or visions."
Deborah picked up the thought.
"But no amount of training can make someone a prophet."
"Correct."
The Keeper looked around the table.
"A person may learn how to recognise a vision. They may learn how to protect the mind or examine spiritual disturbances. But if God chooses not to speak, no technique will force Him."
Nobody argued.
He touched the fifth parchment.
"The Way of the Covenant."
Jair studied it.
"And this is the one everyone hates studying."
Othniel looked at him.
"You hate studying it."
"Shamgar does too."
"Leave me out of this."
The Keeper sighed.
"The Covenant is not primarily a combat discipline. It preserves the Law, Israel's history, sacred vows, Nazarite restrictions, ancient blessings and the obligations attached to power."
He looked directly at Jair.
"Which is why you should have paid more attention."
"I passed."
"Barely."
Shamgar started laughing.
"Did you do better?" Jair demanded.
Shamgar's laughter stopped.
"That is irrelevant."
This time even Othniel smiled.
The Keeper shook his head.
"This is precisely why the Covenant matters. Power tells a man what he is capable of doing. The Law teaches him what he is permitted to do."
The room settled again.
"A Sovereign without judgement is still a dangerous fool. A Judge is expected to possess both."
Othniel leaned back.
"The Ways also aren't sects."
"No," the Keeper agreed. "And they should never become them."
He gathered the parchments closer.
"Israel worships one God. These are methods of instruction, nothing more. A person may walk several Ways over the course of their life."
He gestured towards Shamgar.
"Body and Arms."
Then Ehud.
"Veil and Arms."
Deborah.
"Spirit and Covenant."
His gaze settled on Othniel.
"And some insist on involving themselves in everything."
Othniel smiled.
"I prefer versatility."
"You prefer interfering."
"That too."
Jair looked at the parchments.
"And the ranks?"
The Keeper glanced towards him. "You do know those, I hope."
"Rank One, Awakened. Rank Two, Tempered. Rank Three, Exalted. Rank Four, Champion."
He gestured casually towards himself.
"Rank Five, Paragon. Rank Six, Sovereign. Rank Seven, Transcendent."
"Good."
Jair looked offended by how surprised the Keeper sounded.
"The first ranks largely concern developing the vessel and refining the use of Faith Essence," the Keeper said. "At the higher ranks, the changes become more fundamental."
Othniel's expression became slightly more serious.
"At Sovereign, the mortal vessel approaches what it can naturally contain."
"And Transcendent?" Jair asked.
The Keeper paused.
"Transcendence is exactly what the name suggests. The beginning of surpassing those limitations."
Shamgar leaned forward.
"And after that comes Ascension."
"Potentially."
"Potentially?"
"Reaching the summit of mortality does not guarantee that Heaven will open because you knock."
Shamgar grunted.
The Keeper continued.
"Those who successfully cross the boundary cease being entirely mortal. The first Divine realm is Ascendant."
Jair was listening more carefully now.
"Then Dominion?"
"Yes. After Dominion comes Throne, and beyond Throne, Celestial."
Shamgar whistled quietly.
"And they can come back down here?"
"They can descend."
"So why don't they?"
"Some do."
The answer surprised him.
The Keeper folded his hands.
"The spiritual realm is not a prison. But the stronger a being becomes, the more difficult it is for the mortal world to comfortably contain its presence."
"So an Ascendant could walk around Israel?"
"With sufficient suppression, yes."
"For how long?"
"That depends on the Ascendant."
"And a Dominion?"
"More difficult."
"A Throne?"
"Likely through a vessel, manifestation or another means that limits its true presence."
Jair hesitated.
"And a Celestial?"
The Keeper looked at him.
"If one ever decides it needs to fully descend, I suggest you make peace with the Lord."
Shamgar barked out a laugh before realising the old man wasn't joking.
"Oh."
Jair thought for a moment.
"Where do angels fit?"
The Keeper's eyes narrowed.
"Do not assume a ladder built by men perfectly measures the inhabitants of Heaven."
"So we don't know."
"That is the wiser answer."
Othniel spoke quietly.
"And God?"
The old man looked almost offended.
"The Lord is not a cultivator."
Nobody asked again.
For a moment, the hall remained silent.
Then Ehud tapped the wooden chest.
"You still haven't explained Samson."
The Keeper nodded.
"No. I haven't."
He removed the oldest scroll.
Its leather binding had darkened almost to black.
"Because Samson's situation belongs to something outside the Five Ways."
Jair leaned forward again.
"Blessings."
"Yes."
The Keeper carefully loosened the binding.
"Awakening follows principles we understand reasonably well. Blessings are far less cooperative."
He opened the parchment.
"Some appear within families. Others are tied to covenants or vows. Some seem directly bestowed. Others appear without any source we can identify."
"And they don't require Awakening," Ehud said.
"No."
"Which explains Samson."
"It explains how an unawakened child might consciously use Faith Essence."
The Keeper looked towards her.
"It does not explain what he is doing with it."
He turned the scroll so the others could see.
Seven names were written across the parchment.
"Nearly two thousand years of records."
Jair looked at the names.
"Only seven?"
"Seven that survived scrutiny."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning for every true blessing, there are ten drunk men claiming God taught them how to breathe fire."
Shamgar laughed.
The Keeper continued.
"These seven are different."
He pointed towards the first.
"A shepherd. Never Awakened. His only recorded petition was Peace."
"Petition?" Othniel asked.
"That is the word several scribes used."
The Keeper traced the old writing.
"When the shepherd spoke, aggressive animals became calm."
He moved to the second name.
"A healer. Her word was Mend. She could close wounds, but no other manifestation was ever recorded."
Another.
"A soldier. Stand. While his Faith Essence remained, wounds that should have incapacitated him did not."
Jair frowned.
"So they each had one word?"
"Not necessarily one word. One function."
"And Samson has…"
Ehud answered.
"Speed. Strength. Heal. More."
The Keeper looked at her.
"Which is precisely the problem."
Shamgar frowned. "Why?"
"These records describe narrow blessings. Specific petitions producing specific effects."
He tapped the parchment.
"If Ehud's account is accurate, Samson's blessing doesn't appear bound to a single function."
Jair sat forward.
"So what is it bound to?"
The Keeper looked at him.
"I don't know."
The answer was far more unsettling than a complicated explanation would have been.
Othniel studied the seven names.
"Could the records simply be incomplete?"
"Certainly."
"Could there have been others?"
"Almost undoubtedly."
That interested Ehud.
"You think the blessing is more common than the records suggest?"
"Rare does not mean unique."
The Keeper rolled the parchment between his fingers.
"A shepherd who can settle frightened livestock has little reason to enter history. A mother whose prayers occasionally ease her child's fever may never realise she's doing anything supernatural at all."
He looked towards them.
"We preserve the extraordinary cases because extraordinary things are noticed. That does not mean unnoticed cases never existed."
Othniel nodded slowly.
"So the ability itself may be extremely rare without being as scarce as our records imply."
"Exactly."
"And Samson?"
The Keeper sighed.
"Samson is another matter."
Ehud watched him.
"Because of the number of different requests?"
"That, and the way he seems to use them."
He turned towards her.
"When you use the Veil, who moves your Faith Essence?"
"I do."
"When Jair uses flame?"
"He does."
"When Samson said Heal?"
Ehud remembered the golden light spreading across the boy's arm.
"He spoke first."
"And then?"
"The Essence responded."
The Keeper nodded.
"That distinction matters."
Jair frowned.
"You keep saying responded as though the Faith Essence itself heard him."
"No."
The Keeper's voice became quieter.
"I am saying that I am not certain the Faith Essence was what heard him."
Nobody moved.
Othniel's eyes narrowed.
"Explain."
"I can't."
The Keeper looked towards the ancient parchment.
"These people were not recorded as shaping Essence in the way cultivators do. They petitioned."
"And something completed the process," Deborah said.
The Keeper met her eyes.
"That is what the old accounts imply."
Shamgar leaned back.
"Then the boy is blessed by God."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"You have spent too much time around warriors," the Keeper said. "Scholars are allowed to admit when they don't know something."
Shamgar grunted.
Ehud thought back to Samson.
"There is something else."
The old man looked towards her.
"During the lion attack, he used Strength twice. The second time emptied him."
"And then came More."
"Yes."
"What exactly did he mean by More?"
"I don't think he knew."
Jair blinked.
"What?"
"He was scared. The lion was about to reach him. He realised the strength he'd asked for still wasn't enough."
Ehud's voice softened slightly.
"So he asked for more."
The Keeper stared at the parchment.
"And received it."
"The lion's skull would suggest so."
For a long moment, nobody said anything.
Then Shamgar shrugged.
"So we train him."
Ehud immediately looked at him.
"He is seven."
"I know how old he is."
"You nearly killed Jair during training when he was fourteen."
"I did not nearly kill him."
Jair stared at him.
"You threw me off a cliff."
"There was water below."
"I couldn't swim."
"You learned."
Othniel closed his eyes.
"Enough."
Shamgar crossed his arms.
"My point remains. The boy nearly destroyed himself because nobody has taught him what he's doing. Leaving him ignorant is more dangerous than training him."
Ehud didn't answer immediately.
She disliked it.
Mostly because he was right.
Jair looked towards Othniel.
"Then bring him here."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Jair frowned.
"Why not?"
Othniel looked around the table.
"Because everyone in this room keeps discussing the Child of Calamity."
He paused.
"Ehud met Samson."
That quietened them.
"He is seven years old. He lives with his parents. Until a few days ago, his greatest concern was probably finishing his chores quickly enough to reach the stream before dark."
Ehud nodded.
"That sounds about right."
Deborah spoke.
"And he doesn't know the prophecy."
"He will not learn it from us," Othniel said.
Shamgar frowned. "Ever?"
"When he's ready."
Deborah's expression remained serious.
"You tell a child that Israel may survive or perish because of him, and he'll spend the rest of his childhood wondering whether every mistake is the beginning of a catastrophe."
Ehud looked towards her.
"I agree."
Jair sighed.
"So he stays in Zorah."
"He stays with his family," Othniel corrected.
"Untrained?"
"No."
Othniel glanced towards Shamgar.
"We begin slowly."
Shamgar smiled.
"Body."
"Fundamentals."
"Same thing."
"And if you break him—"
"I won't break him."
Nobody looked convinced.
Shamgar frowned.
"Why does everyone keep doing that?"
Othniel turned towards Ehud.
"The Veil?"
"Later."
"Why?"
"He already possesses strong instincts, but right now I would rather he learn control. He nearly reached for his blessing when another child was in danger even though he had almost no Essence available."
The Keeper nodded.
"That is exactly the behaviour we need to correct."
Ehud looked at him.
"Correct?"
"Not the instinct to help."
His expression softened.
"The instinct to spend whatever it costs."
Ehud understood.
Othniel looked towards the old Levite.
"And the Covenant?"
"Immediately."
Jair groaned.
"He's seven."
"Exactly. Perhaps there's still hope for him."
Othniel smiled.
"You'll teach him."
The old man stared at him.
"No."
"You're the most qualified."
"I am eighty-nine years old."
"You mentioned."
"I live in Shiloh."
"Zorah is lovely this time of year."
"I dislike you."
"You'll think about it."
"I already have."
"And?"
"No."
Othniel smiled.
The Keeper's expression suggested this conversation was far from over.
Deborah looked towards the scroll.
"What about the Way of the Spirit?"
The Keeper's humour disappeared.
"Not yet."
Ehud raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because before Samson is taught to deepen whatever connection he possesses, I would prefer to know what that connection actually is."
Nobody challenged him.
The old man slowly rolled the ancient parchment closed.
"If this child truly possesses the kind of blessing these records describe, teaching him how to fight may eventually become the easiest part."
Jair frowned.
"What would be harder?"
The Keeper looked towards him.
"Teaching him restraint."
His gaze travelled around the table.
"Today he asks Heaven for enough strength to save his parents."
He tapped the scroll.
"Tomorrow he might ask for enough to save Zorah."
Another tap.
"One day, perhaps Israel."
Shamgar shrugged. "And if the cause is righteous?"
"That isn't the point."
The Keeper leaned forward.
"What happens to a man's judgement when the world repeatedly bends after he speaks?"
Nobody answered.
"What happens when a child grows up believing that if his own strength is insufficient, he need only ask for More?"
This time, even Othniel remained silent.
The Keeper sat back.
"Samson may need the Way of the Body."
He looked towards Shamgar.
"The Way of Arms."
Towards Jair.
"The Veil."
Ehud.
"The Spirit."
Deborah.
Then his eyes moved towards the parchment representing the Covenant.
"But this is the one that may determine what sort of man survives all the others."
Othniel slowly stood.
"Then we teach him properly."
The Keeper looked towards him.
"And if the prophecy is right?"
Othniel's expression became unreadable.
"Then I would rather Israel's future be entrusted to a good man than merely a powerful one."
Outside the palace, evening had fallen across Israel.
Farmers returned from their fields. Soldiers changed watch. Merchants packed away their stalls while mothers called children home before darkness swallowed the roads.
And far from the Judges' hall, Samson of Zorah knew none of what had been decided.
He knew nothing of the Five Ways.
Nothing of Paragons, Sovereigns or Transcendents.
Nothing of Ascendants, Dominions, Thrones or Celestials.
He had never seen Shiloh's sealed archives.
He did not know that seven names had waited beneath the earth for nearly two thousand years for someone like him to make them relevant again.
Samson understood his gift in the simplest way a child possibly could.
He prayed.
Faith filled him.
He asked.
And sometimes—
Heaven answered.
For centuries, men had created Ways through which they might reach towards Heaven.
Israel was only beginning to understand the problem Samson represented.
Heaven appeared to be reaching back.