When the propaganda war truly began that year and a half into the Great War itself, I tried to police my tone as much as possible. Whereas hard rules simply do not exist in warfare, I tried to follow several guidelines with which to try and counter Malam’s influence. Did it hurt my efficiency? Yes, of course it did. The easiest method would be a total smearing of Arascus and his Empire. To make him the incarnation of all evil in this world and responsibly for every wrong to ever exist. But that would push the God of Pride into a corner, and it would create a monster out of his Empire.

To win the war was one thing. Even to defeat the God of Pride was another. But we weren’t fighting to rule over ashes. If our victory was to make us lords of the wastes, then there was no difference between it and defeat. The Gods themselves could be ridiculed and humiliated of course, especially as long as the attacks stayed personal, yet the population should not be needlessly humiliated. If we won only to have the population entirely reject us, then what would we do then? We were not in the business of giving power up yet neither were we aiming to instigate a reign of terror. That was one of the general principles at least.

Elassa was the first to break the precedent. When the war began, most of the magical world actually abandoned its Goddess and decided to stay neutral. The War College of Arcadia and a dozen other schools openly declared for the White Pantheon initially, but the hundreds of smaller institutions said they would not fight for they did not care who won.

The situation was untenable. A sorcerer is stronger than a mage individually and Anassa’s iron grip over her own demesne pulled in the entire world of sorcery to fight against the White Pantheon. At the very beginning, they actually outnumbered us. We had to pull in all magic.

I started the crafting the lies.

– From the autobiography “Roses, Blades & Blood”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love.

When the tears ran dry, when Fortia could not shake anymore, when the fire in that fireplace had gone out and darkness flooded in, only to once again be pushed out by the moon waxing in through the window, did Fortia finally move. She pushed off and away from Maisara. The Goddess of Order sat up straight, her face smattered with tears that had dried out. For a few moments, Fortia sat there like a statue. What could she even say at this point? Maisara had just returned from the dead! And…

Maisara broke the silence. “Do you have a drink?”

“Of course I do.” Fortia replied immediately. She stood up, grabbing the cloak around herself. “I’ll get dressed.”

“Mmh.” Maisara replied. “I’ll re-light the fire.” Fortia went to a neighbouring room where her bed and wardrobe lay. Dust had settled on the end table by the bed and when Fortia opened the wardrobe, she could smell that old scent of unmoved air. It wasn’t bad and it wasn’t mould either but… How long had she sat on that couch for? Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember a single time she left the room. What need had there been to leave anyway? She had thought Maisara had died and Divines were ageless, even a year of grieving sounded like a short time when put up against the woman’s thousands of years of life.

Fortia smiled to herself as she pulled out clothes. An orange shirt with buttons with do. A skirt that was similar to Maisara’s, but white. Socks too. The fabric felt new and warm, even though Fortia knew she had worn everything here before. She felt the cloth hug her and smiled. Now that Maisara had returned, even something as simple as putting on a sock was suddenly pleasurable.

Fortia returned to her main room where Maisara was sat on the couch, leaning back and staring into the fire. The Goddess of Peace brought a huge bottle of whiskey and two great glasses. She sat down, the fire crackled, the moon slowly was hidden by a cloud, the whiskey splashed, the bottle thudded as Fortia set it down on the small table before the couch, the glasses clinked. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

The Goddesses drank. Fortia downed her entire glass, she saw Maisara had already emptied hers too. Just like the old days. “Wow.” Fortia said. “I still can’t believe you’re back.”

“I can’t believe it myself if I’m honest Fortia.” Maisara replied and chuckled. For a moment, Fortia froze as she reached over to the whiskey bottle. Maisara pulled her feet up on the couch, she leaned close to Fortia and she must have noticed the temporary pause her friend had taken. “What?”

“I never thought I’d hear that from you.”

Maisara chuckled and held out her glass for Fortia to pour. “I’m still me.” She repeated herself. “I’m still me Fortia. I…” She trailed off. “Yeah… I’m still me.”

“You’re still you.” Fortia said and clinked her glass again. To try and steer the conversation onto anything seemed like it would take away from the monumentous event which had just happened. Yet… yet what was there to say? Maisara had returned. “I have to ask.” Fortia said.

“Go on.”

“How was it?”

Maisara chuckled to herself. “That’s the sort of tone a girlchild would use when discussing boys.” Fortia burst out in laughter. That was exactly the sort of comment she had grown to miss. “But what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean?” Fortia asked.

“Well…” Maisara shrugged. “Which part?”

“The whole thing.”

Maisara shut up for a moment. The Goddess of Order frowned, she pulled her legs up even higher onto the couch and she drank her whiskey. “Why are you making it out that way?”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“I am not!”

“Oh you are!” Maisara said and sighed. She took another sip of her whiskey and leaned onto Fortia. “But you mean after I died?”

“Mmh.” Fortia rested her cheek on the top of Maisara’s head. The two Goddesses stared into the crackling fireplace.

“After Neneria caught me…” The Goddess of Order trailed off. Fortia grasped her hand. “I don’t know. I sat around. I didn’t see anything but I know I waited, save for when Neneria pulled me out of her realm.” Maisara chuckled to herself. “I have more to say on what being a ghost feels like than being dead. That’s like walking through, but at any moment you can just decide to treat the air as water instead of empty space. The ground is semi-formless, you still see normally, but you can just decide to treat something as immaterial. If I wanted to push against a wall, then I could, but if I wanted to walk straight through it, then I know I could too. Describing it like that sounds stupid but it’s like floating or balancing, the mechanism is just subconscious if you know what I mean.”

“That’s such a Maisara way of explaining it.” Fortia said as a log split in half. It cracked and a small trail of ashes went up the chimney. Fortia was not lying though. Anyone else would go and talk about what they felt, or the fear, or what they missed, or the things that people thought about when they died. Only Maisara was the sort to answer the question on what dying was like by trying to explain the mechanics of being ethereal.

“It’s not all that great as its made out to be.” Maisara said. “Maybe if I was a free ghost then things would be different but when you’re in Neneria, you just feel her presence around you all the time. She said that there’s no distance or anything like that, but you know she’s there. It’s like…” Maisara shrugged. “Even if it’s a cloudy day, you know the sun is above you. That’s what its like. She’s just everywhere.”

“That sounds…” Fortia didn’t know what to say. Terrifying? That wasn’t the correct word though. It was far too strong. Although she supposed she wasn’t the best judge for this. She had seen Worldbreaking, she had seen the Magocracies fall, she had seen the first regimes of Divine Tyranny be overthrown, she had commanded the White Pantheon’s armies in the Great War. Feeling a presence? “Tedious.”

Maisara chuckled and sipped her whiskey. “I thought you would say scary.”

“That was the first impression.” Fortia admitted.

“That was my first impression for the first moments.” Maisara said. “And then… you’re just right. Tedium is the correct word to describe it.” The Goddess of Order clinked her glass against Fortia’s. “Neneria is terrible.”

“I expected.” Fortia replied. The fact that the Goddess of Death received that description was no surprise.

“Oh no, she’s not a torturer, she’s just terrible. I legitimately think she’s got a problem.” Maisara pointed to Fortia’s head. “She’s not all right up here.”

“Not the first of us.” Fortia said, although she wasn’t surprised. Every few centuries, some major Divine would give up and go insane. Neneria was so old that it was more surprising it had not happened to her yet.

“You’ll know what I mean when you talk to her.” Maisara said. The two Goddesses sat in silence for a few moments. There was not much to think of Neneria. The woman had a reputation but Fortia could simply not spend much time think about the Goddess of Death. Not when she had her own qualms on her mind. Before, when Maisara broke the silence, at least the thoughts had gone away in the din of conversation. Now, they returned.

Fortia had abandoned Maisara to death.

And so Fortia sat there, staring into the fireplace. She held onto her glass of whiskey but simply could not move. What was there to even say after all? And once again, Maisara broke the dreaded silence. “I have to come clean.” She said.

“Go ahead.” Fortia gave her friend permission immediately. She didn’t even think about what it could be. Frankly, could Maisara say anything that would be even a single boulder against the mountain that was Fortia’s failure?

“When I came back to life, I did not come back to you.” Fortia sat there for a moment, totally unable to process the words. She understood them perfectly of course, they made sense, it was a logical sentence… But… Well, it was baffling. Did it hurt? Was there any world in which Maisara’s words hurt? Could Fortia ever imagine herself being offended by what Maisara just said? No. She had just abandoned the woman to death. That was that. Frankly, Maisara had a right to never return.

“Oh.” Fortia said carefully. Maisara said it though. That meant it must be important for her. Fortia wished she was more apt in this field of emotional problem. For someone like Helenna or Arascus or even Kassandora, words seemed to come naturally. For Fortia? She was simply left sitting there in sheer confusion as to how she should her friend. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“I mean it!” Fortia raised her voice slightly. “Really Maisara! I don’t mind. I’m happy you returned at all.”

“Fortia.” Maisara said dryly. “Come on.”

“What do you mean!?” Fortia said.

“You can be angry at me. Just because I’ve returned to life doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I was born yesterday.” Maisara reply flatly from Fortia’s shoulder. What was the woman even talking about? She had gone off to Arascus? That was that? Of course she would. Neneria was a daughter Goddess of Arascus and the man was the God of Pride. Fortia had not a single doubt that Maisara’s resurrection was not a gift of goodwill but rather an agreement of mutual benefit.

“I’m not mad.” Fortia said. “Honestly Maisara, how could I mad?”

That got Maisara thinking for a few moments at least. The Goddess of Order had her reply quickly enough though. “Because I should have come to you first. Because we’re a team?” Maisara asked.

“Do not worry about me. You were dead.”

“But you were worried about me.” Fortia could not take it anymore. Maisara’s self-pity was no infuriating, it was simply wrong. The woman had no right to feel bad after what she had gone through. Frankly, she should come here to scold Fortia! And nothing else!

“I abandoned you.” Fortia said dryly, not even moving. “I did not turn up to fight Neneria. The reason you died in the first place is because of me.”

“I don’t blame you.” Maisara said. “I didn’t even blame you when I realised help was not coming and that all of you had left me. That was simply how it was. I am sure you had your reason.”

“But did I?” Fortia asked. She did, but not of them were good. None of them could even attempt to justify what she had put Maisara through.

“You were scared of Neneria.” Maisara said and Fortia felt her own heart sink. The word ‘scared’ was an understatement. She had been utterly terrified of Neneria. She had wanted to run for the hills when she heard that the Goddess of Death was approaching. And then? Well then, how could she have approached Neneria when the woman was devouring tens of millions of souls in the UNN.

But then that was the crux of the matter, was it not? Maisara had been brave enough to go. Fortia had been the cowered who stayed behind. Maisara, once again, said something so reasonable Fortia struggled to find something she could take issue with. “Then we both failed ourselves. You don’t blame me for mine, I don’t blame you for yours. So why do we blame ourselves.”

“I don’t know.” Fortia said. The weight off her chest had been finally lifted. It had almost been meaningless to think about yet a mountain to climb.

And Maisara had managed to shift the entire conversation once again. “Then we both are disappointed in one thing, I want to us to promise something to teach other. Not as a permanent vow but rather something we can work towards, day-in, day-out.

“What?” Fortia asked immediately.

“I promise that I will try to never disappoint you.”

Fortia had never heard more beautiful words.

Of course she said them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep