Chapter Eight — The Road to Eshtaol
The first time Samson knowingly met one of the Twelve Judges of Israel, she was already inside his home.
He found her sitting at his family's table shortly after sunrise, calmly tearing a piece of warm bread apart with her fingers.
Samson stopped in the doorway.
His mother was pouring water.
His father sat opposite the stranger.
Neither appeared particularly concerned that a woman dressed entirely in black had somehow entered their house before dawn.
Samson rubbed one eye.
Then the other.
She remained.
"Mum?"
Lily glanced over. "Morning."
"There's a woman in our house."
"I noticed."
Samson stared at her.
The stranger raised the bread to her mouth.
Samson looked towards Manoah.
His father seemed far too entertained by the situation.
"Who is she?"
Lily sighed. "You could at least say good morning first."
Samson looked back towards the stranger.
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"Who are you?"
Manoah covered his mouth.
Lily shook her head.
The woman's eyes, the only portion of her face completely visible above the black leather covering her lower features, curved ever so slightly.
"Ehud."
Samson waited.
"So… Ehud what?"
"Ehud."
"That's it?"
"That's all I was given."
Samson frowned.
Something about the woman bothered him.
Not in the way the lion had.
There was no danger screaming inside his head.
Quite the opposite.
There was almost… nothing.
His eyes slid across her without resistance, yet the moment he looked away, details began disappearing.
He knew she wore black.
But what shade?
He knew she had entered the room somehow.
But when?
He knew she was sitting directly in front of him.
Yet some strange part of his mind continuously treated the chair as though it were empty.
Samson's brows furrowed.
Ehud noticed immediately.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
His gaze travelled down her body.
Black robes.
Loose sleeves.
Nothing remarkable.
Then his eyes paused near her waist.
Something felt wrong there.
Not visible.
Wrong.
Like staring at a word he knew should exist but couldn't quite remember how to read.
Ehud's fingers stopped tearing the bread.
Samson tilted his head.
"You have something there."
Manoah looked towards him.
Ehud's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
"Where?"
Samson pointed.
Then hesitated.
"No…"
His finger drifted slightly.
"Somewhere around there."
Ehud stared at him.
Samson's confidence disappeared.
"Maybe."
"What do you think it is?"
"I don't know."
He squinted harder.
His head began hurting.
Ehud watched him struggle for several seconds before something resembling relief entered her gaze.
Then the air changed.
A black dagger appeared at her waist.
Samson jumped backwards.
"What?!"
Lily nearly spilled the water.
"Samson!"
"That wasn't there!"
"It was," Ehud replied.
"No, it wasn't!"
"It was."
Samson looked towards his father.
Manoah nodded reluctantly.
"It was."
Samson stared at all three of them as though they had collectively lost their minds.
Ehud leaned back.
"You couldn't see it."
"I was looking right at you."
"Those are not the same thing."
Samson slowly approached the table again.
His eyes remained fixed on the dagger.
"How?"
"The Veil."
The word immediately captured him.
"What's that?"
Ehud considered him for a moment.
"The reason you didn't notice the knife."
"You made it invisible?"
"No."
"That looked pretty invisible to me."
A faint amusement touched her eyes.
"An invisible object can still be detected."
She tapped the sheath gently.
"Light can bend around it. Faith Essence can reveal it. Sound can betray it. A skilled enough person may simply sense that something is hidden."
Samson waited.
Ehud released her fingers.
The dagger vanished again.
Not physically.
Samson knew that now.
Yet the instant the Veil returned, his attention slid away.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep looking.
His eyes watered.
Nothing.
Ehud watched him struggle.
"At the beginning, the Way of the Veil teaches concealment."
Her voice softened.
"As you grow stronger, concealment becomes something else."
Samson rubbed his eyes.
"What?"
"Obscurity."
She stood.
"And eventually…"
Something happened.
The room became colder.
No.
Not colder.
Emptier.
Samson looked directly at Ehud.
For half a heartbeat, he forgot why.
Then he forgot who he was looking at.
His breathing stopped.
The chair stood before him.
His parents sat nearby.
Everything was normal.
And yet—
something was missing.
Something terribly important.
The sensation ended.
Ehud stood exactly where she had been.
Samson staggered backwards.
His heart hammered.
"What did you do?"
"Almost nothing."
Samson stared at her.
"That wasn't nothing!"
"To me, it was."
Her words weren't boastful.
That made them considerably worse.
Ehud looked down at him.
"My Veil has begun approaching the principle of Absence."
Samson swallowed.
"Absence?"
"The world cannot react properly to something it does not acknowledge."
She lifted one hand.
"At Rank Five, abilities begin moving beyond simple tricks of Faith Essence. They acquire meaning."
Samson was silent now.
Ehud continued.
"If I wished to vanish from this room completely, you would not merely fail to see me."
Her eyes hardened.
"You might forget there was ever anyone here to see."
Samson's mouth went dry.
Manoah finally interrupted.
"Perhaps we shouldn't terrify him before breakfast."
"I'm not terrified," Samson replied immediately.
Ehud looked at him.
He swallowed.
"Much."
That finally drew a small laugh from Lily.
The tension eased.
Ehud returned to her seat.
Samson did the same, though now he watched her with an entirely different expression.
Wonder.
Caution.
And a rapidly growing number of questions.
"Are all Judges like you?"
"No."
"Is Othniel stronger?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Eat."
"That wasn't an answer."
"It was the only one you're getting."
Samson frowned and picked up some bread.
A few bites later, he finally asked the question Ehud had actually come to answer.
"Why are you here?"
Ehud's humour faded.
"The lion."
Samson's chewing slowed.
"Oh."
"The story travelled."
"How far?"
"Farther than your parents would have preferred."
Manoah exhaled heavily through his nose.
Samson looked down.
"I didn't mean for everyone to know."
"I know."
Ehud's voice had softened without her noticing.
"You did something brave."
Samson looked up.
"And something unbelievably stupid."
His face fell again.
"You exhausted every drop of Faith Essence you possessed, then somehow forced your blessing to continue beyond empty."
"I needed more."
"I know."
"The lion was going to—"
"I know, Samson."
Something in her tone stopped his defence.
Ehud leaned forward.
"I watched you pray."
His eyes widened.
"You were spying on me?"
"Observing."
"You were hiding in the trees!"
"That is usually where observing happens."
"That's spying."
Manoah looked away to hide a smile.
Ehud ignored him.
"I saw your arm heal."
Samson's indignation weakened.
"You did?"
"Yes."
He stared at her.
"So you know about…"
"Your blessing?"
Samson nodded.
"Enough to know that you understand almost nothing about it."
He frowned.
"That sounds rude."
"It was intended to."
Samson looked towards his mother for support.
Lily shook her head.
"She's right."
Betrayal crossed his face.
Ehud continued.
"When you asked for More, your Faith Essence did something that should have been extremely difficult for someone your age."
"What?"
"You went into debt."
Samson blinked.
"With God?"
Ehud paused.
"No."
"Oh."
"Your spiritual vessel."
That did not help.
Ehud saw the confusion.
"Imagine you have ten coins."
"Okay."
"You spend ten."
"I have none."
"Then you somehow spend five more."
Samson frowned.
"How?"
"Exactly."
Understanding slowly appeared.
"So when I prayed after…"
"You were recovering what you'd already spent."
"And that's why Heal wouldn't work?"
"Yes. Your reservoir couldn't hold anything usable until the deficit had been repaid."
Samson looked thoughtful.
"Can I do it again?"
Ehud stared at him.
Lily stared at him.
Manoah stared at him.
Samson slowly shrank into his chair.
"…Probably not?"
Ehud leaned closer.
"If you do it casually, I will personally drag you back from wherever you've gone to die and kill you myself."
Samson blinked.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't need to."
For some reason, Manoah seemed satisfied with that answer.
Ehud sat back.
"You need training."
Samson's eyes brightened immediately.
"From you?"
"Some."
"How much?"
"Enough."
"What will you teach me?"
"You really do not know how to ask one question at a time."
"No."
Ehud stared.
"At least you're aware."
She gestured towards the eastern road beyond the window.
"There is a House of Instruction in Eshtaol."
Samson recognised the village.
"The next village?"
"Yes."
"I've been there."
"You've been to the market."
Samson nodded.
"This is different."
Ehud explained that the House trained both Awakened and pre-Awakened children. Before Awakening they learned Scripture, discipline, physical conditioning, weapons, the fundamentals of Faith Essence and the portions of the Five Ways that did not require an opened spiritual vessel.
Samson barely let her finish.
"When do I start?"
"Today."
He looked towards his mother.
Lily smiled.
Then towards Manoah.
His father pointed towards a packed bag beside the doorway.
Samson's jaw dropped.
"You planned this already?"
"You're seven," Manoah replied.
"That's not fair."
"It is extremely fair."
"No one asked me."
Lily kissed the top of his head.
"You would have said yes."
Samson considered it.
"…Yes."
"Then breakfast."
Less than an hour later, Samson left Zorah beside a Paragon.
He spent the first portion of the journey trying to find Ehud's dagger again.
He failed miserably.
Eventually, she spoke without looking at him.
"If your eyes move towards my waist one more time, I will leave you here."
"I nearly had it."
"You weren't remotely close."
"I could feel something."
Ehud glanced sideways.
That part interested her.
But she refused to reward him.
"You felt your imagination."
"I did not."
"Walk."
Samson muttered something.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Good choice."
The road toward Eshtaol followed the stream for several miles before climbing through fields scattered with olive trees and limestone outcroppings.
The sun had only just begun warming the earth.
For once, Samson was relatively quiet.
Ehud noticed after several minutes.
"What?"
He looked at her.
"What what?"
"You've stopped talking."
"I'm thinking."
"That is encouraging."
Samson ignored the insult.
"How strong are you really?"
Ehud's stride didn't change.
"I told you."
"Rank Five."
"Yes."
"That doesn't tell me anything."
It was a fair point.
To Samson, ranks were merely words.
Ehud looked towards the horizon.
"Do you see those hills?"
He nodded.
"If I stopped suppressing myself and struck them seriously, there would no longer be hills."
Samson looked at her.
"That doesn't sound like Rank Five."
"What does Rank Five sound like?"
"I don't know."
"Exactly."
They continued.
Samson glanced back at the distant ridge.
"Could you destroy a mountain?"
"Yes."
"A city?"
"Yes."
"A country?"
Ehud was silent for a moment.
Then:
"If I had sufficient reason."
Samson nearly tripped.
He hurried to catch up.
"And a continent?"
Ehud looked down at him.
There was no pride in her expression.
Only fact.
"One attack?"
Samson nodded slowly.
"Would be enough."
His face went blank.
Ehud continued walking.
He stayed rooted to the road.
"Samson."
Nothing.
She turned.
He was staring at her as though she had suddenly become something inhuman.
Ehud understood.
That reaction was common the first time children truly understood what the upper mortal ranks represented.
"Come."
He slowly caught up.
"You could destroy the whole land?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you?"
Ehud looked ahead.
"Because being capable of ruin is not the same thing as having the right to cause it."
There was conviction in her voice now.
"A Paragon without restraint is not glorious."
Her eyes hardened.
"They are a calamity."
Samson remembered the old prophecy he did not yet know applied to him only as a word he had heard in stories.
Calamity.
The word suddenly sounded much uglier.
Ehud continued.
"That is why control matters more as you climb."
She opened her palm.
A grain of dust lifted from the road.
It floated above her skin.
"To you, strength means hitting harder."
The grain stopped.
"To me, strength often means deciding exactly how much of the world I am willing to ruin."
Samson stared.
Ehud closed her hand.
The grain of dust vanished.
Not shattered.
Not burned.
Gone.
No sound.
No debris.
For the briefest moment, Samson felt that same vile emptiness from her Veil.
Then it was over.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"That was definitely something."
Ehud's eyes almost smiled.
"Exactly."
They continued walking.
A while later, she stopped beside a large stone.
"Hit it."
Samson frowned.
"What?"
"You wanted training."
"Here?"
"Strength does not care where you learn it."
Samson put down his bag and approached the stone.
He clenched his fist and struck.
THUD!
Pain ran through his knuckles.
"Ow."
Ehud looked unimpressed.
"You're strong."
Samson smiled.
"For a child."
His smile faded.
"How strong?"
Ehud had already felt his grip at the house.
Now she had a better idea.
"Without a blessing? Somewhere around a physically trained eighteen-year-old."
Samson's pain disappeared.
"Really?"
"Yes."
He straightened.
Ehud lightly tapped the back of his head.
"Don't become arrogant."
"Ow!"
"That didn't hurt."
"It hurt emotionally."
That actually made Ehud pause.
Then, despite herself, a short laugh escaped her.
Samson grinned.
"You laughed."
"No."
"You did."
"Strike the stone again."
He obeyed.
This time she stopped his arm halfway.
"No."
"What?"
"You're wasting almost everything."
Samson frowned.
"My punch?"
"Your strength."
She moved his rear foot.
"Power does not begin in your fist."
She nudged his heel deeper into the soil.
"It begins with what supports you."
She adjusted his knee.
"Then travels."
Hip.
Waist.
Shoulder.
Elbow.
Fist.
"A chain."
Samson nodded.
"Break one link and strength escapes."
Ehud stepped towards the stone.
"Watch."
She did not use Faith Essence.
Samson knew that now.
She didn't need to.
Ehud placed one knuckle gently against the rock.
No wind.
No aura.
Nothing.
Then she moved her fist forward perhaps an inch.
The stone disappeared.
Samson stared at the empty patch of dirt.
Not shattered.
Not cracked.
Erased into dust so fine the morning breeze carried it away before his mind fully understood what had happened.
He slowly looked towards Ehud.
"You said that was your body."
"It was."
"That's vile."
Ehud actually looked amused.
"Vile?"
"In a good way."
"That sentence makes very little sense."
Samson walked towards where the stone had been.
"You barely moved."
"Exactly."
She placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Control."
Then pointed at the horizon.
"If I used what you're imagining when you hear the word Paragon, there would be considerably less Israel left behind us."
That finally made the scale real.
Samson swallowed.
"Again."
Ehud raised an eyebrow.
"You want to try?"
He nodded with conviction.
"Good."
For the next half hour, she corrected him.
Samson's first attempt was atrocious.
The second was less so.
By the sixth, Ehud's eyes had narrowed.
By the tenth, she stopped speaking entirely.
Samson planted his foot.
Turned his hip.
Kept his shoulder aligned.
Struck.
THUD!
A smaller rock cracked.
Samson's eyes widened.
"I did it!"
"Partially."
"It cracked!"
"Do not celebrate mediocrity."
"You're hard to impress."
"Yes."
But inside, Ehud was no longer unimpressed.
His body remembered everything.
Not perfectly.
But unnaturally quickly.
Then the forest ahead went silent.
Ehud noticed first.
Samson noticed a heartbeat later.
He stopped smiling.
"Something's here."
Ehud looked at him.
"You felt it?"
Samson nodded.
A low growl rolled through the trees.
Branches snapped.
Then a Rank One beast emerged onto the road.
The creature resembled a massive boar covered in stone-like plates. Essence pulsed beneath its hide while two enormous tusks scraped grooves through the soil.
A Stone-Tusk.
Samson immediately felt the difference from an ordinary animal.
His instincts screamed.
The memory of the lion returned.
His wounded arm.
The blood.
The terror.
His Faith Essence stirred.
Ehud noticed.
"Do not call upon Heaven."
Samson looked at her.
The beast lowered its head.
"It's charging."
"I can see that."
"Ehud—"
"Watch."
The Stone-Tusk roared and launched itself forward.
It did not hesitate.
It did not recognise the ruin standing beside Samson.
How could it?
Ehud's Veil had buried her existence so deeply that the animal's instincts registered only one living target.
A child.
The Paragon beside him was, for all practical purposes—
nothing.
The creature charged.
Samson's muscles tightened.
Twenty metres.
Ten.
Five.
Ehud sighed.
There was genuine irritation in it.
Not fear.
Not caution.
Offence.
"A Rank One beast…"
Her eyes became cold.
"…daring to bare its tusks at me?"
The Veil flickered.
For the smallest fraction of an instant, Ehud allowed the beast to perceive her.
The Stone-Tusk froze.
Not because its body chose to.
Its soul did.
Every primitive instinct within the creature suddenly understood the monstrous mistake it had made.
Its legs buckled.
Its pupils contracted.
Foam gathered around its mouth.
A Rank One beast stood before a Paragon.
It was no longer predator and prey.
It was an insect looking upward as the heavens collapsed.
Samson felt it too.
Not Ehud's full aura.
Not even a fraction worth naming.
Merely the idea of it.
His knees nearly failed him.
The world around Ehud became unnaturally still.
Birds ceased moving.
Leaves hung motionless.
Sound itself seemed reluctant to approach her.
For one horrifying heartbeat, Samson understood that the woman beside him was suppressing something calamitous.
Something ruinous.
Something that had absolutely no business fitting inside a human body.
Then it disappeared.
Ehud's hand reached into her robes.
The dagger emerged.
The beast tried to flee.
Too late.
Ehud moved.
Samson never saw the step.
One moment she stood beside him.
The next, she stood behind the Stone-Tusk.
She hadn't used a technique.
She hadn't circulated enough Faith Essence to be considered meaningful.
This was simply what remained after decades of cultivation had transformed flesh that was once mortal.
A thin line appeared across the beast's front legs.
Both separated.
Before its body could fall, Ehud caught one tusk.
She turned her wrist.
BOOM!
The Stone-Tusk rose from the ground.
Thousands of pounds of flesh and stone spun through the air as though weight had become a suggestion.
Ehud stepped beneath it.
Her dagger flashed once.
Then twice.
The creature landed behind her.
Its body separated into four clean sections.
Blood struck the road.
Ehud's robes remained spotless.
Silence.
Samson's mouth hung open.
Ehud cleaned the dagger against a leaf.
"That was excessive."
Samson finally found his voice.
"You cut it apart."
"Yes."
"You threw it."
"Yes."
"It was massive!"
"I noticed."
"With one hand!"
Ehud looked at him.
"You punched a lion."
"I almost died!"
"That sounds like a skill issue."
Samson stared at her.
Then, against all reason, started laughing.
Ehud looked at him as if he were mad.
"That isn't funny."
"You said skill issue."
"I did not."
"You basically did."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Samson continued laughing until he noticed something.
His laughter stopped.
Ehud was sheathing the dagger.
But his eyes weren't following the weapon.
They were fixed on her body.
More specifically—
inside it.
Not literally.
He could not see her Faith Essence.
But during the movement—
something had happened.
A current.
A path.
So smooth he had nearly mistaken it for part of nature.
Samson frowned.
Ehud noticed.
"What?"
"When you moved."
"What about it?"
"Your Essence."
Her expression became cautious.
"I barely used any."
"I know."
That wasn't the answer she expected.
Samson touched his stomach.
"It moved from here."
Then his hip.
"Down."
His leg.
"Then…"
He looked at the ground.
"It didn't stop at your foot."
Ehud became completely still.
Samson continued.
"It joined everything."
"What do you mean?"
"The ground."
He struggled to explain.
"You didn't just push against it."
Samson looked towards the places where Ehud had stepped.
"You became… connected."
Ehud stared at him.
At Rank Five, circulation was no longer a crude process of pushing Faith Essence through pathways.
It had become instinct.
Body, Essence and surrounding world existed in a continuous cycle.
The principle behind her movement had taken years to understand.
Samson had witnessed it once.
"Show me."
He blinked.
"What?"
"What you think you saw."
Samson immediately closed his eyes.
Ehud nearly stopped him.
Then curiosity won.
A tiny reservoir existed inside him.
Pitiful.
Almost insulting compared to the potential of everything else she had witnessed.
Samson reached towards it.
A thread of Faith Essence moved.
Sloppily.
Dangerously.
Ehud's eyes widened.
Down.
Through his centre.
Towards the hip.
The current wobbled.
Almost collapsed.
Samson gritted his teeth.
Then forced it into his leg.
Ehud grabbed his shoulder.
"Stop."
The circulation shattered.
Samson gasped.
"What?!"
"You're going to damage your pathways."
"I nearly had it."
"No, you didn't."
"I did!"
"You reproduced perhaps one hundredth of what you felt."
Samson's face fell.
Ehud stared at him.
Then realised what she had just said.
One hundredth.
After seeing it once.
An unawakened seven-year-old.
She released his shoulder.
"Do it again."
Samson looked betrayed.
"You just stopped me!"
"Slowly."
"Adults really don't know what they want."
"Samson."
"Fine."
This time Ehud deliberately circulated.
Infinitesimally.
A thread so small that another Paragon might have struggled to distinguish it from the natural movement of her vessel.
Samson's brow furrowed.
He followed.
His own Essence moved.
Better.
Still crude.
Still wasteful.
Still laughably small.
But better.
Ehud felt something unpleasant crawl along her spine.
This was no longer merely talent.
Geniuses existed.
Israel had produced many.
She herself had once been called one.
But geniuses required explanation.
Instruction.
Repetition.
Samson watched—
and somehow conviction filled the spaces where knowledge should have been.
Worse still, when he reached towards understanding, the world seemed almost eager to accommodate him.
A faint breeze moved across the road.
His circulation stabilised for half a second.
Ehud looked upward.
Her expression darkened.
Are You helping him?
The breeze disappeared.
Samson opened his eyes.
"I did better."
Ehud looked at him.
"Yes."
The answer came reluctantly.
He smiled.
"Much better?"
"No."
His smile weakened.
"A little?"
Ehud sighed.
"For someone who hasn't Awakened…"
Samson waited eagerly.
"…it was monstrous."
His eyes lit up.
Ehud immediately regretted using the word.
"Not in the flattering sense."
"It sounded flattering."
"It wasn't."
"It definitely was."
She began walking.
"Pick up your bag."
Samson hurried after her.
"You think I'm a genius."
"I think you're dangerous."
"That's not a no."
"Samson."
He grinned.
Ehud tried very hard not to smile back.
The walls of Eshtaol appeared in the distance several hours later.
The village was far larger than Zorah.
Beyond its northern edge stood a sprawling complex enclosed by pale stone walls.
Several training fields stretched behind them.
Samson could hear shouting from outside.
Wooden weapons colliding.
Running feet.
An instructor roaring at someone to stand back up.
Then—
BOOOOM!
A shockwave briefly disturbed the clouds above the compound.
Samson stopped.
His eyes widened.
"What was that?"
"Probably one of the instructors."
"Probably?"
Ehud kept walking.
Samson hurried after her.
For the first time since leaving Zorah, he wasn't talking.
His heart beat violently in his chest.
Excitement.
Nervousness.
Wonder.
Beyond those walls were Awakened children.
Pre-Awakened children.
Techniques.
Weapons.
The Five Ways.
A world Samson had only just learned existed.
Ehud glanced down at him.
Only this morning, she had come to escort a gifted child to school.
Now she understood that description was woefully inadequate.
His Faith Essence reserves were miserable.
His spiritual pathways remained unopened.
His knowledge was almost nonexistent.
And for all his natural strength, he was still only seven years old.
Those were blessings.
Because everything else about Samson of Zorah was beginning to look frightening.
His body possessed the base strength of a grown man.
His instincts could detect danger.
He had sensed the circulation of a Paragon through layers of the Veil.
Then copied its underlying principle after witnessing it twice.
And somewhere above them, Heaven itself appeared to quietly lean in whenever the boy tried to learn.
Ehud looked towards the gates of the House of Instruction.
Perhaps Othniel had been wrong.
Their greatest challenge might not be making Samson strong.
It might be ensuring that when his strength eventually became calamitous—
his character remained stronger.
The gates opened.
Samson stared into the world waiting beyond them.
Ehud rested a hand upon his shoulder.
"Ready?"
Samson swallowed.
Then smiled.
There was no fear in his answer.
Only conviction.
"Yeah."
Together, they stepped inside.