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Anon: Goddess of Anonymity
Chapter 8 - Details of the mission

Chapter 8 - Details of the mission

We grief as a time of sadness and madness descended upon us

Working as one, but of various factions;

Intentions the same, but they bleed

For different reasons

I fight, my hands aren’t clean.

Precious joys of children aren’t heard anymore.

The three-day waiting period felt longer than it was. Despite the leisure spent, Anon felt anxious. The drop in her chest refused to calm. Tortured groans and moans clouded her mind with images so sickening; the messages in forms of nightmares worsened. They haunted her even after the sun rose. Anon needed a source of comfort from the ever-working abilities. Such a luxury existed, but the time wasn’t right.

Not yet, but soon.

On the promised day, Anon found herself in the throne room where Queen and Majesty awaited. They held kind gazes as they welcomed her. Pleasantries aside, Anon wanted to know the finer details of her descent.

Sighing, Majesty enlightened the somewhat grumpy Goddess.

“There has been an… accident, or so in world- excuse me.” The God turned his head towards his wife, signalling for help.

“236, dear.” Queen reminded.

“Thanks. Right. (cough) Orders were to retrieve an object, but it is more specifically a mirror. Mirror Goddess was supposedly chosen for the task but she is unavailable. After a paid vacation, much paperwork had accumulated. She is now making up for that, so you were chosen instead. Reason: court had selected such as your abilities would’ve proven beneficial in the search.

I’ll tell you ‘bout the mirror too. It’s basically a mirror.”

‘…’

The room was silent. Anon’s sceptical expression seemed to hurt the King.

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“Don’t look at me like that. The object possesses a disastrous being to the human world. if unsealed in the wrong hands, this King might need to spend several months overworking an unpaid stay-back. The challenge isn’t in the spirit locked up, its insignificant. Hard part’s finding the mirror, Anon. Deadline’s non-existent, so you may take your time.”

Majesty (actually) looked bored as he took liberties to explain the mission.

“But that’s not all, isn’t it?” The snow-haired goddess added nonchalantly.

King stiffened, but gave a helpless shrug in turn.

“Why not send an angel?” Asked Anon.

“We can’t afford it, child. They’ve already been given orders to clean up the 244th, 154th and 222nd world. Ya know, the spiritual battles there can get real nasty. Bane of my existence, cause of my exhaustion. I’ve dedicated a decade’s worth of paperwork in a week because of them.”

Queen looked quite perplexed for a reason no one knew.

“When must I depart?” The Goddess inquired.

“In 5 days. The time ratio is 1:6. Their time moves six times as fast.”

Anon managed a nod. Her cheek muscles started to cramp ever since Majesty entrusted her with the irksome task. It was reasonable, however. Anon was technically a NEET entrusted with minimal wage. More of an unofficial informant/prophetess, peaceful times had not called upon her powers as of late.

Her Highness the Queen worried for Anon. Watching the child’s back as she left, She could only keep her mouth shut of her concerns. The Goddess of Anonymity was strong despite her un-motivated attitude. Despite that, Anon was quite inexperienced with the ways of the human world.

As though he owned a set of telepathic abilities, Majesty clasped his hand to hers. Lightly, he said: “Worry less, my love.”

Breaking a slight smile, Queen could only recall the ruthlessness Anon had towards her enemies during the Great Celestial War. She was torn between worry and tears for both human and divine parties. The grandfather clock by the side struck three, a phoenix cried thrice.

Both made their ways to their respective studies where stacks of documents and paperwork awaited. Queen worked seriously with a pair of magically enhanced glasses; Majesty on the other hand, was distracted as usual, groaning at every stamp or signature given. On several occasions, his hands would stop. He’d glance outside the open window, admiring the beautiful scenery with an unreadable gaze- only to resume stamping minutes later.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Rhythmic sounds bounced off the walls.

‘Will the dear child’s vacation go well? She’s been home for at least 300 years after all- due to His curse.’