Bryce
“I’m, uh, so sorry. I didn’t expect this to be yours,” I said as I quickly pulled the sweater off and handed it to the goddess. She was a human woman, maybe early to late fifties, with her gray streaked brown hair tied up in a loose bun. She had on a white blouse that was half-tucked into a pair of black slacks. It looked like she had just gotten home from a meeting and fallen asleep without changing. Which was a feeling that I knew well, but even with her disheveled look, she was still the most intimidating woman I had ever met.
“That’s alright, it’s not your fault.” She took the sweater from me with a sigh before handing it to Libby. “Please, put that back where you found it.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Libby apologized with a bow, and it disappeared from her hands. “She was cold, and I wasn’t sure what to do, but then I remembered that when you’re cold, you like to wear that sweater.”
“She was cold?” Tess asked Libby, but she was watching me. “Bryce, is there something wrong with your wrist? You keep rubbing it.”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head and forced myself to drop my hands to my sides. “I’ve been reading for gods know how long, and I’m not used to using paper books.”
“She was reading for eighteen hours and thirteen minutes,” Libby helpfully chimed in. “She’s covered nearly the entirety of the meta-physical anatomy of a djinn.”
“That’s an oddly specific topic.” Tess frowned at me, and I nodded.
“I died fighting a djinn progenitor, but managed to get a spell off before she killed me, and from what I can tell, it may have been enough to finish her.”
“Which progenitor?”
“Mother. The, uh, head of the Syndicate.”
“Souls aren’t meant to feel pain in their afterlives,” Tess explained. “You’re experiencing a severely muted version of what your body is going through back on the mortal plane. It’s likely a side effect of a binding spell. If I had to guess, Mother is trying to link your body and soul together, then use that connection to originate a spell from within my wards in order to resurrect you without me noticing. You're lucky Librarian stole my sweater, otherwise it probably would have worked.”
I felt the cold disappear along with the pain in my wrists as she finished speaking. “I, uh, wow, that would've been really bad. Thank you.”
“You're very welcome.” She gave me a tired smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been nearly three months in my localized time since I’ve had a chance to sleep and my bed is calling to me. If you feel any other phantom sensations, then let Librarian know and she’ll contact me.”
“Thank you, again.”
Tess nodded before disappearing, and Libby let out an audible sigh after she was gone. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d react that way. If I had known, then I would have just manifested you something myself.”
“It’s okay. Normally people don’t buy those sorts of sweaters for themself. If she’s kept it all these years, then it was probably a gift from somebody she cared about,” I explained absentmindedly while I chewed on my lip in thought, and then on a hunch, I muttered the words to my modified mana detection spell.
Libby frowned at me. “If people like them so much, then why wouldn’t they just buy one for themself?”
“Libby, does Tess know that you’re actually a celestial?”
She froze and then blinked out of existence. I rolled my eyes. “Libby? Could I have some help, please? There’s a book that I can’t find.”
“Hello, Bryce! What can I help you with?” She reappeared with a smile, but her smile became strained as I glared at her. Her soul was gone now, but it was definitely there before, and I recognized it as that of a celestial.
Libby panicked and grabbed me before teleporting us both to some far-off corner of the library. “I messed up, okay? You saw something that you weren’t supposed to see, and now you can’t tell anyone, understand?”
“Yeah, I won’t, I promise.” I held up my hands as I took a step back. “Can you at least tell me how you’re hiding your soul?”
She shifted nervously while looking around the aisles of shelves before nodding at me. “I’m a decentralized intelligence. I have around sixteen hundred-bodies at any given time, and my soul only needs to be in one of them. Earlier, I panicked and switched to the wrong one while I returned the sweater.”
“But why are you even hiding it in the first place?”
“Because if my mistress finds out, then I’ll have to pass on, and I really don’t want to do that.” Libby started hyper-ventilating, which was strange for both an artificial construct and a celestial.
“Relax, Libby, I’m not going to tell anybody. Your secret is safe with me.”
She nodded and took a calming breath before responding. “Okay. Good. Thank you, Bryce.”
“Of course. Do you want to go get something from the cafe to help you calm down? Maybe some of those chocolate brownie cookies you like so much?” I asked, and she shook her head.
“No, I probably shouldn’t.” She sighed, and I was about to ask if she was sure when she explained. “Eight of me have been eating them non-stop ever since my mistress showed up. If too many of me start doing it, then people might ask questions.”
I wanted to ask questions, but then decided that maybe there were more pressing issues where Libby was concerned. “Would you mind if I researched why exactly Tess has the rule against celestials? If I can understand why it exists in the first place, then maybe I could convince her to make an exception for you.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Yeah, of course, you can study whatever you want, but please, don’t try to talk to my mistress about this. What I have now works for me, and I don’t want to risk losing it.”
“I won’t,” I promised, and after a few moments of giving me an unconvinced look, she nodded.
“Okay, as I told you before, the primary reason is to prevent stirring events. If you want a good general example, then volume nine of the Nemesis crisis is your best bet, but it’s not actually the most comprehensive…” She trailed off for a moment before continuing. “The fall of the Hilaen theocratic dynasty was the first event recorded in modern memory, and while the author offers a lot of speculation, it was later edited with additional commentary to make corrections. I think that would be the best place to start, and I can curate a few other titles after you finish with that one.”
“Alright, I’ll start there then. Can you take me to it?”
“I’ll do you one better!” Libby held out her hand and an ancient, heavy looking tome appeared in it. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I took the thick book and nearly fell forward as she released it.
~~~~~
The Hilaen dynasty was a pre-Aether travel, multi-planetary government centered around a pantheon of gods that lasted for nearly thirty-thousand years.
It could have lasted indefinitely, if not for a mysterious being known only as ‘the entity’ showing up and emptying the pantheon’s afterlife. If that were all it did, then the whole thing would’ve been an impressive display of power, but not cataclysmic. The real problems came when it proceeded to collapse the entirety of Elysia, shred the mantles—and souls—of the gods, and then to top it all off, killed every single living follower of the pantheon.
Nearly the entirety of intelligent life was wiped out in just a few hours, and as best as I could tell, it was brought on by a handful of gods hoarding souls.
I closed the book and leaned back in my chair while I considered everything I had just learned. Stirring events were obviously bad, and should be avoided at all costs, but that didn’t explain Tess’s aversion to celestials, nor did it really explain the name.
This entity didn’t seem like it was stirring. Awakening? Maybe. Or even observing, sure. But not stirring. That seemed to imply something else was at play. Something bigger.
“Libby.”
“Hello, Bryce!” The celestial appeared nearby with a grin. “What did you learn?”
“A lot, but not enough.” I paused to consider my options before deciding on what to read next. “When was the term ‘stirring event’ first used?”
“After the third event, when my mistress met with the entity,” Libby explained. “There’s a transcript of the conversation written in the memoir of Lady Lucile of the Ebony Court. It’s just a second-hand account, but my mistress confirmed its accuracy herself.”
“That sounds like exactly what I want. Can you get it for me?” I asked, and she handed me a green gilded book with a smile.
“Anything else you need?”
I was about to thank her when I felt my stomach cramp. “Actually, does the cafe have real food, or is it just baked goods?”
“It has everything. You just have to ask for it.”
“I could really use a sandwich. Would you mind taking me there?”
“Of course, right this way.”
~~~~~
The cafe was surprisingly quiet despite the crowd, and I even managed to find a corner where I could sit by myself to enjoy three of the best sandwiches I had ever eaten while I read.
Lady Lucile's memoir was far closer to a romance novel than an autobiography. As it turned out, that second-hand account of Lucile’s came from Tess’s first-hand account. The two of them were romantically involved, and while it was definitely spicy, the conversation between Tess and the entity was even more so.
Tess had been prepared after the first two events and actually managed to capture the entity, but wasn’t able to kill it despite trying a laundry list of different methods. Eventually, she gave up and tried bargaining.
Tess had to develop two separate spells just to have a conversation with it, but they weren’t recorded in the memoir. Although, there was a reference number written in the margin that would supposedly lead to the grimoire that contained them. I made a mental note to study it later.
In the meantime, the actual transcript had my full attention. The entity claimed that its arrival was a response to a ‘stirring event’ that it suspected was caused by a significant number of altered souls.
Notably, it didn’t say what the alterations were, or the number of souls affected, just that it was enough to be noticed. When Tess pressed it for specifics, it claimed that it didn’t know. That it was just doing as it was told, and that if the source of the problem couldn’t be dealt with, then a more powerful entity would be sent in its place.
Tess and the entity negotiated for months, and eventually, Tess agreed to remove the mantles of the accused gods if the entity left. It agreed, and she released it.
Lady Lucile found her half-dead the next day. The entity had again collapsed Elysia and killed all the followers of the gods whose domain had anything remotely to do with souls. The gods themselves were presumed dead, but never found.
The response was technically less severe than the first event, but only because the bulk of power was less consolidated. Two things were obvious, though. First, whatever this entity was, it couldn’t be trusted, and second, I was starting to get a headache.
Clearly, this event was the source of the restrictions on soul-based mantles, and it honestly felt fairly justified. Although, I didn’t doubt that I would have felt differently if Tess had showed up to strip me of my mantle. Honestly, even after reading through the memoir, I would have still probably tried to argue a case to keep it. Not that I was ever going to get the chance. Dying had apparently disqualified me as a candidate, because my connection to the mantle had disappeared entirely.
“Libby, are you there?” I asked into the air, and the woman appeared nearby.
“Hello, Bryce! Did you enjoy the sandwiches?”
“I did, thank you.” I handed Lady Lucile’s memoir back to her, and she took it before causing it to disappear. “It seems safe to assume that each of Tess’s rules are in some way connected to one of these events, is that true?”
Libby shook her head. “Not all of them, but for the most part, yes.”
“Which ones aren’t?”
“Well, the rule about taking her clothes without asking is the most recent example,” she responded, without a hint of irony.
“Are there any that affect the people outside her afterlife?” I asked, and she shook her head. “Okay, which event caused her to discontinue the use of celestials?”
“That would be the fourth and fifth events collectively. Neither were explicitly attributed to celestials, but the cause was similar enough that my mistress decided to err on the side of caution. At least where her own afterlife is concerned.”
“Do you have the records for those events?”
“Of course!” she responded, but then hesitated. “Although, there are a lot of them. I’m not sure which of the documents would be the most relevant. If you’d like, I can take you to that section.”
“Please do.” I got up from the table, and she led me back down to the first floor.