How much is actually decided by one’s demesne. Naturally powers are highly relevant to the situation at hand yet is that where the influence of one’s demesne ends? To go against the optimist camp, and rather predictably for myself, I will say no. Our character and our state of mind is inherent in the demesne. The fact it is the Goddess of Order saying this should lend even more credence to this mentality, rather than just outright dismissal with “Oh, there’s goes pessimistic Maisara again.” I am fundamentally self-aware of the problem as it stands, and yet I cannot do anything to change it. That is how great the mentality of Order stands over me. Would life be easier if I could say yes to Chaos? If could give a pass to minor criminality? Is some fellow truly an irredeemable thief if food is stolen for one’s family?

These questions do not haunt me. The answers are very obviously yes, yes and no. And yet whilst I can agree intellectually with such statements, those are not the values I hold. Why? There is no why. I am the Goddess of Order, I naturally carry a responsibility towards my demesne. It just so happens that my demesne is rather non-negotiable in its values unlike something such as lightning, although even lightning is full of character compared to the miserable inventions that represent spoons and wires and windows. The strongest case against my proposition is the acknowledge of these meaningless deities and treating them as if they are something important or worth basing our values off.

No. I hate to write this, but we have finally come across a situation where cursed Anassa, of Sorcery, is correct. Divinity is defined by exceptionality. No one will pray to one of the countless lesser Divines for remedies to malady when they could pray to Kavaa, of Health. No one will pray for leadership in battle from some untested runt when they could pray to Kassandora, of War. No one will pray for bringing back the lamb that is order from the jaws of anarchy from some no-namer when they could be praying to me.

Just because we are unable to point to the exact mechanism which creates this pattern does not mean we cannot acknowledge this pattern. Cavemen did not know the dynamics of the sun, that did not mean the sun did not rise.

– Excerpt from “Documenting Divinity”, written by Maisara, of Order.

Kavaa walked through the grand wooden corridors of Central Requisitions. Baalka had not been moved from here although why would she? It was the safest place in the entire Empire. The fortifications from the Kirinyaan War still existed, and yet all the supplies that had been moved out to Epa or to the Ashlands or to Nanbasa. Central Requisitions was a tough nut to crack and it had a hollow centre. What better place to hide a Goddess in?

It was almost surreal. The operation had been planned in Rilia. A plane had arrived to pick them up. It landed here. A day ago, Kavaa was in the UNN. Now, she was in Arika and ready to heal a woman that should be her antithesis. And not only that, she knew how to do it. Kavaa kept on walking, her black coat swinging from side to side as Kassandora walked by her side in a military uniform and a cap that bore the emblem of a skull being penetrated by a sword. Ahead of them, Arascus led them through the wooden corridors of this great tree that Iniri had grown. Workers and guards moved out of the way and saluted for the party of Divines whose walk was so fast that a mortal would need a sprint to keep up. Anassa and Elassa were behind Kavaa. The former in a dress of perfect, conjured crimson, the other in a dress of dirty blue and with rings on her fingers, necklaces and earrings and belts and chains and all manner of jewellery with embedded gemstones to channel magic. And behind them walked Neneria. The tall Goddess of Death. Pale and with hair as dark as the raven-feathered shawl around her neck.

“I have to ask.” Elassa broke the silence. “Because I am sure everyone here is thinking it but I am thinking it especially.”

“Ask away.” Kassandora said.

“It’s for Kavaa.” Kavaa rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what the question would be. After all, there was only thing that could be said in this situation. And frankly, Kavaa had no grand response or life-lesson to give to the fellow, ex-White Pantheon Goddess. Besides, did Elassa even deserve an explanation anyway? Kavaa always hated these kinds of questions.

“It’s what I, the Goddess of Health, make of healing the Goddess of Disease, isn’t it?” Kavaa replied dryly.

“You read my mind.” Elassa said coyly. “And I’m sure everyone is curious.”

The ally that came to Kavaa’s aid was the last woman she expected. “You’re the only one.” Anassa said.

“Did anyone ask you?”

“Did I ask you to speak for me?”

Arascus poured a desert of sand with a single word on the brewing flame. “Girls.” It was a cold, deep growl of a command. And it shut the Goddess of Sorcery and the Goddess of Magic up both. Arascus could be most powerful entity in existence, and sometimes Kavaa wondered if he just had some power to generate respect or if it was sheer charisma that got people like to shut up. Allasaria never managed to wield it. Fortia only managed it in the war room. And Maisara? Kavaa doubted the Goddess of Order would ever be able to boom like that, and her boom be listened to.

The party turned another wooden corridor. Wires had been dragged here too, then affixed to hooks in the upper corners of the corridor. Warm lamps illuminated the brown with a glow of orange that made the room itself feel hot, even though there was a draft of cool Kirinyaan nighttime air rushing past everyone. And once again, Elassa’s curiosity could not contain itself. “Well Kavaa?”

Kavaa rolled her eyes. She felt Kassandora lean in and whisper. “It’s not that deep, just answer.”

“It’s a job.” Kavaa said. “I’ve healed Gods and Goddesses before, what does it matter to me what demesne they represent?”

Elassa shrugged. Heels clicked on the wood. Heels interspersed with the heavy steps of Arascus’, and Kassandora’s and Kavaa’s boots. Elassa tried to dig when there was nothing to find. Kavaa had not lied. “I just thought since… well, I don’t know.”

“This is like asking me for my opinion on Fortia.” Kassandora said. Kavaa smiled at the assistance. Normally she hated it. From Kassandora though? Well, it was downright lovely. Kavaa felt blood rush to her cheeks. Warm.

“And that means what?” Elassa asked. “I don’t think you like her.”

Of all the people, it was Neneria who answered that. Her voice quiet and mischievous, but for every inch shy, it was two inches certain on what it was speaking about. “Who exactly does sweet Kassie like?”

“She likes me.” Anassa declared proudly and Kassandora harrumphed in response. What a team. Kavaa almost struggled to believe that these were the Goddesses that would be resurrecting Baalka with her. Yet she would much rather have this jovial bickering between girls rather than the cold approaches that marching by Maisara’s and Fortia’s sides had always been.

“Kassie being able to stomach you says more about you than it does her.” Neneria said and Elassa chuckled in laughter. Death fixed its attention on the Goddess of Magic. “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Kavaa turned to see Elassa’s eyebrows narrow and turn to the Goddess of Death. Neneria strolled at the very end of the team, taller than everyone save for Arascus himself. She wore her black dress with a neckline of raven feathers and dark eyes stared down at Elassa.

“What could you mean by that?” Elassa asked suspiciously.

“Sorcery and Magic are like spillages and puddles.” Neneria replied in the least diplomatic tone Kavaa had ever heard. Kassandora chuckled and Anassa spun mid-stride. She cast off the ground, hovered so that her eyes were level with Neneria’s and sorcery flared around her. Kavaa looked at Arascus from ahead, the God of Pride, strolling in that dark imperial coat with his broad shoulders swaying from side to side did not even look back at what his daughters were doing.

“Now now sister. What could you mean by that?” Anassa asked.

“I took you for a literary genius.” Neneria replied as Kavaa watched the show, utterly stunned that she was finally seeing bark from the usually silent Goddess of Death. She bumped her elbow against Kassandora and the Goddess of War shook her head. That beautiful red cloak that was the woman’s hair moved from side to side. “Do you need me to explain what a metaphor is?”

“Quite the tongue, sister.” Anassa hissed. Neneria did not get chance to respond. Kassandora stepped in.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart Neneria?” Kassandora asked and Neneria did not answer. “Why the poor mood?” Kavaa blinked and realised what was happening.

“Who is in a poor mood?” Neneria asked. Kavaa’s eyes shifted to Arascus. Was he even listening? Would he not say anything? Allasaria would have stepped in by now.

“You are.” Kassandora said.

Anassa spun around, still hovering in the air, the top of her black hair almost touching the ceiling. “Now now Kassie, I can fight my own battles.”

“I see that.” Kassandora said without even turning around. “You’re doing an excellent job of it if Neneria stumped you in speech.” Kavaa turned to the one woman here who seemed to be shrinking with her. Elassa. Never had she thought she would feel a kinship with the woman that once had been called Allasaria’s dog. But they were both White Pantheon Goddesses, and now as Kavaa’s grey eyes met Elassa’s blue, as the Goddess of Magic made a small and timid shake of her head, Kavaa knew exactly what the woman was feeling.

Even with Kavaa’s close relationship to Kassandora, it… Well, these were sisters. Elassa and Kavaa were just dogs compared to the wolves that worked next to them. Besmirchment one part of the wolf-pack was besmirching them all. Kavaa turned back around to look at Arascus. And the head-wolf was right there. Neneria came in to defend herself. “I can stump anyone.” She said so awkwardly that Kavaa struggled to believe her.

“Can you?” Kassandora asked.

“Try me.”

“On what?” Kassandora asked. “Just anything.”

“Trust me, you’ll get stumped.” Neneria said.

“The sky is blue.” Kassandora replied with the most inane statement she could.

“Not true. You’re wrong. I’m right. End of.” Neneria said and Kassandora opened her mouth. She then closed it. She looked at Anassa. The three sisters burst out in laughter. Even Kavaa smiled to herself as Arascus led them down a turn and the bickering continued. It was light-hearted. It was jovial. It was nothing like the White Pantheon. A few times, Kavaa glanced back at Elassa, the Goddess of Magic was smiling the entire way.

And then the smiles dropped. So did the words. Silence overtook them when Arascus led them into a guarded room with no windows and almost nothing in it. The dozen soldiers all saluted as the Divines walked past them, their guns loaded and the magazines in their belts filled. Arascus flicked the light-switch to reveal nothing save for a table with a naked Divine on it.

A short Divine, but a terribly insidious one. The only exception to the rule of height equalling power. A tremendous force that Kavaa had thought she would never see again after the Great War ended. This was the woman responsible for the plagues that terrorized White Pantheon armies and populations alike. This was the woman’s whose blood had been so terrible even Fer could not burn it. And she was short, with dark hair and sickly pale skin. Her stomach rose with each breath.

Baalka. Goddess of Disease.

Plaguebearer.

Everyone filed in. “This is it.” Arascus said. He took a deep breath. “Are you ready? One by one. Kass?”

“I am.” Kassandora replied as she stood opposite Baalka to Arascus.

“Ne?”

“I am.” Neneria took position at Baalka’s head.

“Elassa?”

“Mmh. I am ready.” Elassa said and stood at the woman’s feet.

“Kavaa?” Arascus stepped back to make room for the Goddess of Health. He extended an arm out. Kavaa looked at him and looked at the Goddess of Disease. Baalka lay there, her chest rising and falling as she breathed. And that was all the movement the Goddess was capable of. Her answer to Elassa had been a lie. There had been a time when Kavaa had watched a dog enter the camp of her Clerics. She had left for the night. The dog had carried Baalka’s sicknesses. The animal was unharmed. Her Clerics had never woke up when they fell asleep. Kavaa had sworn she would never heal this terrible woman again when she put that animal down.

And yet… Kavaa looked to Kassandora and Neneria and Arascus. Arascus and Kassandora. Kassandora. Arascus. Kassandora. It was terrible. She wanted to raise a stipulation. She wanted that conversation that they shared in the corridor. She wanted that laughter between them. She wanted to know what it was like. She wanted in.

A shameful thought, to demand entrance into the family for the saving of one of theirs. Terrible and shameful. Just downright horrifying. Love did not demand bargain, the whole point of Love was that it lacked any guarantees whatsoever and it still moved.

Kavaa stepped into position.

“I am ready.”

“Then begin.” Arascus said and stepped away with Anassa. And that was all. Nothing else needed to be said. Kavaa raised her arms into the air as she looked to Kassandora. Grey eyes closed as she placed her hands upon the tiny Goddess of Disease, grey hair fell down black uniform. Kassandora’s Orchestra of War began to play invitingly in Kavaa’s mind. It was a quiet thing, although it would be. Kavaa accepted her place into the music and let the Orchestra course through her body. She heard the grand piano that was Kassandora today, playing as slow series of repeating notes as the Goddess of War brought in the other two.

Elassa came in, a delicate organ that whistled almost silent, high-pitched notes. It was ever on the edge of slamming every key down and tearing the whole world apart. And Neneria. A flute, nothing more, nothing less. Just a flute, confident and sure of itself, although thoroughly unimposing in its simplicity. It was always there, always present, not even bothering to fight against being drowned out. Although Kassandora did not let her sister play quietly.

Neneria raised her pale, bone-white hands, and activated her power. The flute became louder. The other instruments stayed the same volume but their sounds became smooth and dull and blunt as Neneria’s flute gave its report: Soul ready. A flicker of rapid piano keys played confirmation and Elassa’s rings started to glow blue. Kavaa could see the light even through her closed eyelids. Kassandora gave the plan. Deep notes shouted out the instructions as to what would happen to the Goddess of Disease.

Annihilated.

Then brought back.

It had been done before.

With Maisara when the woman was resurrected.

With Fer when the woman had been cleansed of Furcas’ taint.

How hard could it be to repeat?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep