Having my neck broken was a uniquely hellish experience. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe and I could hardly speak. Things just happened around me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was Joanna’s champion, not the other way around. Sure, she had the powers of a demigod and could absolutely handle herself, but she had trusted the duel to me. And now here I was, lying in the Deepseeker’s workbench in the middle of his scrupulously neat hut. Furs and hides had been laid down over the stone work-table, but that didn’t change the fact that I felt like one of the old shaman’s magick projects. Joanna had been explaining some of her own magick, the metal and spirits with which she had come down from the sky. She didn’t call it magick, she called it teck. I wasn’t sure what teck meant, but it didn’t mean anything mystical or spiritual. When she said teck, she meant things like the grain mill. Machines. The Deepseeker made machines, not magic. Was I one of those machines? After all, I had magick, no, a teck heart in my chest instead of one made of flesh. Had the Deepseeker really saved my life? Was I still Erinye, or was I something… else? After all, I had just had my neck snapped, and I hadn't died. There was only one other thing I knew about like that- the very Child of the Eater King that had killed me. Was that all that beat in my chest a wriggling, metallic insect that wore my meat body like I wore armor?

I heard the leather door flap pushed aside and resisted the urge to try to turn my head. I had learned very quickly that it either knocked me unconscious with pain or did nothing after all. I supposed I was fortunate that the old shaman knew how to block the pain that I knew that had to be there. Honestly, I was surprised I could even think. Everyone I had ever met who had been using the Deepseeker’s pain blocking herbs and treatments had seemed half-asleep. At this moment, I couldn’t have been more awake. A moment later, the craggy, mad face of the Deepseeker appeared over mine. “You seem to be doing better,” he mused.

I laughed, carefully lest I provoke the terrible pain I knew that had to be waiting in the dark. "I broke my neck, and I'm paralyzed. Please, define ‘better,' Oh great Elder."

To my surprise, the Deepseeker didn’t fly into one of his characteristic rages, despite the disrespect I had shown him. Instead, he narrowed his twitching eyes into a smile and disappeared from my sight. I felt something pulse down my neck, through my chest, and along my legs. It took me a second to realize I hadn’t been able to feel any of that a moment ago. I tried to wiggle my toes. I felt them wiggle. Cautiously, I turned my head the tiniest of fractions to the left. No pain. Some tightness in the muscles, a little stiffness, but otherwise no pain.

The Deepseeker reappeared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Get up.”

“What? How-”

The Deepseeker cut me off with an impatient chopping motion. “I said get up. We have a lot to go over and not a lot of time.”

Gritting my teeth in anticipation of agony, I sat up. Nothing. No problem. I looked down at myself, halfway expecting a metal body like that of the creature I had fought in the dark while searching for Joanna. But no, it was still my body. I was beaten, I had some fading bruises, but I was fine. I reached up and felt at my neck. It felt normal- if a little tender to the touch. "Deepseeker, how did- how did you do this?"

The shaman looked at me from beneath bushy white brows, leveling a surprisingly lucid skeptical stare at me. “I replaced your heart, boy- after it got stabbed with a magick spear. Why does it surprise you that I’m capable of repairing a neck as well?”

I frowned. “That’s not the same. When you replaced my heart, I was laid up for a long time. And now-” I stopped, realizing that I didn’t know how much time had passed. “How long have I been down?”

“One night.” The Deepseeker muttered, reaching over and disconnecting a thicket of cords, cables, and wires that had apparently all been connected to me at one time or another. They dripped with a black fluid I couldn’t identify.

I stood, finding it easier than I thought. No wobble, no weakness. It was like nothing had happened. “This doesn’t make sense,” I whispered, feeling overwhelmed. “This isn’t possible.”

The Deepseeker laughed. “Of course it is.” He thumped me hard in the chest, right over the scar where a black spear had skewered me from behind. “I put some serious stuff in there where your heart used to be. The machine spirits inside it can fix damn near everything, given the right materials to work with. Do you think I would risk everything I invested in you on some fancy weapons and armor?”

I just stood there and stared at him, open-mouthed. After a few moments of silence, all of the words bouncing around in my head came vomiting out of my mouth. “What have you done, you crazy old cur? What have you turned me into? Tell me, am I a machine? Tell me!” I stepped forward, not sure what I was going to do, but sure that whatever it was required me to seize the ancient bastard by his skinny, leathery neck.

The shaman didn't let me grab him, however. He held up a small, boxy device that flashed with blue lights and flipped a switch. Immediately, my arms and legs went limp, and I crashed hard to the floor. The Deepseeker leaned in close, with a tone more exasperated than angry. "Don't do that." He flipped the switch again, and I could stand. He held out a hand for me to take it, and then pulled me to my feet. "I've done exactly what I said I had done the last time I dragged you away from death. I turned you into a peerless ranger. You don't feel cold. You are fast and disproportionately strong. And unless someone actually cuts off your head or tears the heart out of your chest, you'll be enjoying those benefits of immortality for quite some time."

“In short,” the Deepseeker continued. “I have made you into my heir.”

“What is that supposed to mean? What are you?”

The Deepseeker laughed out loud, “You idiot, haven’t you guessed? You’ve already met one of your gods, and she all but told you the answer.”

I remembered it then, standing before the altar, face to face with Ravanur. Unless I missed my guess, the Great Mother had said, Palamun has already left his mark on you. My blood felt cold in my veins as the realization struck me. “Palamun. You’re the Great Father, the King of the Sky.”

“Actually,” said Palamun, his face briefly riven by a series of twitches all along his jawline, “I’m the eighth Palamun, in a manner of speaking, and it would be best if you didn’t tell anyone about this- except maybe the Akkandaka. She will understand. Now come outside. We have a war to plan.”