It is terrifying and difficult trying to figure out what exactly I should tell my church about the Goddess.
Because on the one hand, they deserve to be warned, don't they? The Goddess is an evil horror that is going to hurt them and they should be ready. The problem is just that I do not have the slightest iota of trust that they will get ready if I tell them to. Rather, I think the number one response to telling a bunch of Christians that the source of magic is evil is 'no duh, it says spells are evil in The Bible, so let's try to get people with magic to stop casting it!' And that… would be bad.
The Goddess gives us spells we like, spells that resonate with us. Telling someone to suppress that is exactly the sort of cruelty that made me reject the faith in the first place. But more practically, the Goddess gives us spells that She wants us to use, and a movement of people refusing to cast magic runs a very serious risk of Her getting irritated… or worse, bored.
Boredom is when the sand buckets start to dump, after all.
But what exactly is the alternative? To deny that the Goddess is evil? To convert people to Her worship? To actually, purposefully start this cult that I'm worried my pastor might want to be a part of? That's already frightening to me. Why does my pastor seem so willing to reject his literal lifelong belief? I suppose it's more that he doesn't; he thinks I'm a prophet, a source of teaching that can enhance and clarify the Bible. Which is blasphemy of the highest order to your average Christian, but average doesn't mean everybody and these kinds of schisms happen all the time. Just look at Mormonism.
An earnest, genuine Goddess cult could potentially be worse than magic bigotry, if only because anyone legitimately interested in maximizing entertainment for Her would be absolutely terrifying. So ultimately, I tell my pastor the truth. I tell him that I don't know if the god of the Bible is real, but the Goddess undoubtedly is, and She is cruel, and She is evil, and though I am Her prophet I will be the first to say that She is not deserving of worship. She is, however, deserving of fear.
My pastor asks me to speak at the pulpit anyway. I agree.
It's rather awkward walking into the service room and sitting down next to my family like I'm still a perfectly normal church girl. I get a lot of stares; some judgemental, some worried, some confused, but all from people I've seen once a week for nearly my entire life. And yet, I don't know their names. I hardly know anything about them. I have never, in all this time together, felt like I belonged here.
Maybe that says more about me than it does about them. But I don't care. I'm happy to finally be able to admit it.
After a fairly normal start to the sermon, my pastor finally invites me up to speak. Anxiety gripping me, I walk up the aisle to the front, keeping my back straight and my limbs in view. I am not human. But I'm not better than humans, and these people deserve knowledge and safety every bit as much as I do.
"Hello," I greet everyone, leaning forward a bit on the pulpit to get a better feel for the microphone. "Thank you all, for being here and letting me speak. You all know me as Hannah Hiiragi, and… that is my name. But I am more than that."
I spread my many limbs and cast a wordless Refresh, sweeping all the dust I can reach around me in a controlled whirlwind of magic. Everyone in the room can feel the air shift.
"All my life, I have existed in two worlds. I thought the other world was a dream, a strange mental condition I couldn't escape. But it was all very real. Now, I understand that I am the herald of magic, and the prophet of the Goddess. But I imagine even hearing those words makes you wonder what I'm doing speaking of a golden calf in your place of worship."
I smile, trying to convey that was a lighthearted joke. I think I show too many teeth, because nobody laughs.
"So what does this mean for you?" I continue. "It's true what I said last week. I don't believe in your god. I don't think I can. But even before I knew the Goddess, I had my doubts. I couldn't help but look at humanity's cruelty, the world's callousness, and the unguided chaos of individual belief and think that if there was a god who loved the world as it was, they could in no way be good."
I shudder, the Goddess's light touch on my chin compelling me to look up. It would be so easy to invoke Her, to prove to them all that Her power is real in a way that they could not deny. That I was right and they were wrong. That I was vindicated in my hatred of their beliefs.
"...The terrible reality of my Goddess," I tell them, "is that I was right."
Surprise fills the room, and I hate that it's so easy to see why they're surprised. Their god is a glorious god, after all. For all his listed cruelties and hatreds, it is his love and kindness that is so universally praised in the walls of my church. I know not all denominations and pastors are like mine. There are some real fire and brimstone churches here in the Bible Belt, but for many people their interpretation of religion is incompatible with the idea of that kind of god. That kind of god, in the eyes of these people, is the exact sort of false demon that their god has crushed, time and time again. A threat, certainly, but no more of one than, say, social media corrupting the youth.
"My Goddess," I tell them, "cares not for your suffering, nor your health. She is a voyeur, a schemer, and a purveyor of curses packaged as gifts. She desires only that you entertain Her, like puppets at a show. The divine soul She grants you will never reach heaven nor hell. So I challenge all of you. I challenge your god. Cast Her out. Free us from Her, if you can. Please."
I lower my head as if in prayer. The Goddess laughs at my plan, howling with joy as She huddles close to me and caresses my hips. I wait. I let more than enough time pass for a miracle. And then, I snap my fingers and Refresh again. It, of course, works just fine.
Then with a scowl, I activate a Spacial Rend and cut off my pinky as well. The congregation gasps, many people looking away, but I just hold the gaze of those that stare and channel my Transmutation magic to slowly regrow the lost digit. Even without ever speaking a spell, I'm powerful enough to do this much. To show, without a doubt, that my power is real.
"So," I growl. "What does this mean? Is your god unwilling to help? Unable? Or does he simply not exist? I do not know, but what I know for a fact is that my Goddess is real, and She seeks to claim this world. If we are going to continue to survive within it, we must be ready for that. We must be ready to win the games She wants to play. We must beat Her, without boring Her. So if I may be so bold as to request a meditation, I want you all to imagine how we might do that. How would you fight the sun, if at any point it could simply choose to stop shining?"
Murmurs spread through the crowd, giving me time to wait for them to quiet down. I really hope they think up good answers, because I'm still stumped. The Goddess wraps Herself around me and squeezes, Her fingers painfully tight around my neck as She indulges in Her mighty and glorious joy. Yes. Yes! I am doing so well. Get them all to play, and who cares who wins or loses? Her excitement is so great that I can't help but let a smile tug at my lips, the sheer strength of Her exuberance completely overwhelming my pain and fear. My consciousness wavers as the embrace continues, and when She finally lets me go again, I can barely breathe.
"All I ask," I gasp, barely managing not to double over into a coughing fit on the pulpit, "is that you have mercy on those touched by Her. Do not oppress us. Do not make demands of how we use our gifts, as double-edged as they may be. The Goddess' attention is a sign of neither sin nor virtue. It's just a sign of misfortune. Nothing more or less. Help us, and I will do all I can to help and protect you."
I bow my head.
"Thank you, and I'm sorry," I conclude, and step away from the pulpit, heading back down the aisle. Again, everyone stares at me, but it is the faces of my family that strike me hardest. I sit down next to them, folding my blades into the fourth dimension while I rest my hip-limbs on my lap, and do everything I can to ignore their obvious, horrified concern for my well-being. They don't even know the smallest fraction of what I've been through, and yet they're nearly moved to tears because they care about me. They love me. And I don't know how to handle that, because I still don't love them.
"Hannah," my mother says quietly. "Is that a bruise on your neck?"
I stiffen, reaching slowly up to feel at the ache around my throat, pressing it lightly and recognizing that familiar pain. It is a bruise. I suppose that makes sense.
"...I guess She got a little excited," I croak, and the expression on my mother's face becomes one I haven't seen since I told her about my first therapist. Unfortunately, I don't think she can solve this problem in court.
The pastor follows up my speech with one speaking about helping others in times of great change, and it's… nice. It really is. I agree with pretty much everything he says today, espousing kindness and charity and working together. Yet this is the same man who told us all to vote against any politician trying to 'corrupt our sexual values,' so it can't help but feel surreal to me. How can someone who's so damn nice not see how much he's hurting people?
I guess he thinks it's okay to hurt people as long as it's for the right reasons. That's certainly a choice that I've made, too.
I hate it. But I wait and I listen all the same, because it'll up the chances that the people here listen to me. I still can't stomach doing anything but retreating to the bathroom the moment the sermon ends, though, despite how many people I know have questions for me. I collapse onto the safety of the toilet stall and pull out my gloves and phone, desperate for the little rectangle to provide me some comfort against all this thinking I've been having to do.
A text from Valerie is the first thing to catch my eye. Heck yeah! That always cheers me up. Maybe she's had some progress on her transformation?
Oh shit my parents came home, her text says. I read it again, and then again.
Oh, no.
They're really angry about you? They keep asking me a bunch of questions.
Oh no.
Hannah they're
They know. they're goign to take my phone.
Oh no no no no no! When was this sent? An hour ago!? I rush out of the bathroom stall and push past my mom, who of course is the first of many people waiting for me. They call my name, but I barely even hear them, bursting out of the church building and sprinting down the street to Valerie's house as fast as I can. There are a good chunk of pedestrians out today, so I stick to the bike lane as I rush across town, my claws shivering with pleasure every step they dig into the asphalt. The euphoria feels sick, though. How can I focus on anything good while Valerie needs me?
Am I overreacting? I don't know. Maybe. Hopefully. I turn down her street and only start to decelerate when I make it to her driveway, rushing up to the porch and hitting the doorbell. I can see inside the house well enough, and I spot Valerie curled up in the basement with my spatial sense, doing the sort of jittery hand stims she always does when she's terrified. She's hyperventilating, her heart is racing, and she flinches with every footstep of her parents stomping around upstairs, gathering things in the house and… packing them?
No fucking way. They want to take her away from here. They want to isolate her from everything good she's ever scrabbled together for herself outside their net. That isn't happening.
I ring the doorbell again, causing Valerie's father to groan and finally come to the door. Whatever he was going to say, however, dies in his throat the moment he sees me.
"Hello, Mr. Fleming," I greet him the polite way I always do. And that's the thing, isn't it? As awful as Valerie's parents are, one thing they've never done is complain about our friendship. Why would they? Their embarrassingly antisocial little boy is hanging out with the upper-middle-class white girl from a few blocks over. I'm the most normal thing in their child's life, and they've always loved me for it.
Well, look at us now. One glance, and he immediately tries to slam the door in my face. Fat chance. I step forward, hold my hand out, and the door stops with a thunk, the weight hardly feeling like anything.
"I haven't seen you in a while," I smile furiously. "How was your trip?"
He scowls down at me through his square-frame glasses, anger on his face but fear in his sweat. Posturing and puffing himself up to scare off the real predator. It won't help him. I know how small he really is.
"...It was enjoyable," Valerie's dad defaults. "We dealt with a lot of business obligations and then took a cruise around Europe."
"Who's at the door, Samuel?" Valerie's mom asks from deeper into the house.
"It's… Hannah," Valerie's dad says evenly. "I was just about to tell her we're too busy for guests, at the moment, so she'll have to leave."
It's always weird when these people refer to me by my first name, but I guess it makes sense. Valerie and I have been friends since third freaking grade, so even though they're hardly ever around I still know her parents pretty well.
I have always hated them.
"Apologies for interrupting," I lie. "I just got a few concerning texts from—" Valerie? She said her parents know something but it might not be gender stuff. Brendan? Ugh, no. It would feel gross saying that name after I put so much effort to banish it from my mind. "—my friend. I'm pretty worried."
"Our son is fine," Valerie's dad spits. Fantastic. They do know, then. "Please leave my property."
My claws twitch. This is how it always is, isn't it? Goddess, I despise these fucks. Arrogant, entitled, hateful, and casually cruel, Valerie's family makes their fortune by exploiting their countless owned properties and buildings across several states, squeezing fortunes out of others and investing it in whatever stocks and political campaigns allow them to continue doing so more effectively. They have absolutely no space in their heads for caring about other people, least of all their daughter who is constantly left home alone. And she's better off for it.
I like to think that, while I don't tend to bother caring about most people, I'm pretty good at acknowledging that people are complex, multifaceted individuals with goals and motivations not all too dissimilar from my own. Everyone has more to them than it appears on the surface, and I'd argue that part of what makes me struggle to get close to people is feeling that I'd rather have no opinion on someone at all than settle for a shallow opinion formed by surface-level knowledge of them.
Valerie's parents, though? Fuck all that. My life has been blessed with countless complex individuals, and they are not among them. They are evil as hell, and if they dare to hurt Valerie any more than they already have I will make them regret it.
"My friend is curled up downstairs crying," I tell them. "Please let me in."
"He's supposed to be packing," Mrs. Fleming scowls.
"Brendan doesn't want to see you, Hannah," Mr. Fleming lies, and I nearly impale him on the spot. "Now please vacate the premises, or I will contact the police."
I shove the door open, forcing him to stagger back as I walk into the house. There will be no ultimatums here. I shut the door behind myself with a hip-limb, scowling at him.
"You've told me before that I'm always welcome in your home, Mr. Fleming," I say. "I'd at least like an explanation."
"Get that demon out of our house, Samuel!" Mrs. Fleming snaps, as if yelling at her husband is going to help him out at all.
"...You're not a good influence on our son, Hannah," Mr. Fleming says, pulling out a cell phone with a shaky hand. "I don't know what's happened to you, but—"
"That's right," I hiss. "You don't know. Nor do you care. You don't care what happened to me and you don't care that your daughter is downstairs having a panic attack over whatever the fuck it is you've done in the handful of hours you've actually been home. Do you seriously think it's okay to do anything you want with her life without even asking her about it?"
"We are Brendan's parents," Mr. Fleming says.
"So that's a yes, then," I sneer.
"Did you think we were just going to let some monster hurt and corrupt our child?" Mrs. Fleming asks as her husband quickly starts dialing the phone.
"Did you think I was going to let a pair of monsters hurt and corrupt my friend?" I ask, and then I lash out with a blade limb to cut the thin little block of metal in half. The broken phone clatters to the floor. "You don't get that power anymore. You never should have had it in the first place."
I step past Mr. Fleming and stomp angrily down the stairs, barely forcing myself to slow when I see the noise cause Valerie to flinch. Come to think of it, isn't it weird that Valerie seems caught off-guard by her parents showing up? That means they're back early, right? Did they rush home because of me? Fuck.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
I make it downstairs only to see my best friend desperately trying to get to her feet and quickly make it look like she has been packing instead of having a panic attack. She rushes across the room, hyperventilating as she tries and fails to grab things with shaking arms and sharp claws. There's blood on them, as she seems to have carved open a bunch of gashes in her own arms. Her constant nervous twitching makes it unclear if it was on purpose or not, but it terrifies me all the same. My fury and fear mix into an intoxicating haze in my mind, and soon I notice the light fur on her body growing and thickening as my need to make sure she is safe pours out of me as uncontrolled Transmutation. Which is bad, but I'm not really in a state where I can bring myself to care. I don't think she even notices, as completely in the throes of panic as she is.
"Val," I say, trying to get her attention. She doesn't react, rushing over to her computer and jerkily pulling cables out to put them away. "Valerie! Hey, it's me. It's gonna be okay."
I want to run forward and sweep her up into a hug, but I know that would be a horrible idea. My touch-aversion is mostly trauma. Her touch-aversion is hypersensitivity, and exacerbating it right now is about the worst thing I could do (in no small part because hugging is what her parents would do, if they were in a good mood). So I step forward, close enough to let her know I'm here for her but stopping far enough away to give her plenty of space, and I keep talking.
"Hey. I'm here. You don't have to do that."
"Yes I do," she chokes, her body shaking. "Yes I do."
"No, you don't," I tell her. "You're eighteen. They can't force you to go with them."
"They can force me out of the house!" she snaps. "I either move with them or I have to move somewhere else and live on my own except I can't really do that because I don't have any money or skills or anything I could use to afford a place to live!"
"It won't be an issue," I promise her. "You can stay with me while while—"
"Oh, like living with your mom would be so much more bearable," she snaps. "Besides, it's not that easy. It's never easy with them, they worm into everything. This is why I didn't want anyone to know! Because… because everyone's calling me Valerie and everyone's letting me be me and it only made it so much worse to put it all away and hide again. To have to not be that while they're here. I couldn't do it and they freaked out and now they're going to take me to who knows where unless I do it to myself first."
"Valerie—"
"Stop," she hisses. "Shut up, I just. I have to be fixed or they're going to dump me on the street. If I don't go with them I get nothing. Not my computer, not my phone, not my clothes, not Fartbuns… nothing. I don't have anything they didn't give me and they're making sure I know it. I can't be anything close to myself with them, they'll never let me. They'll fight me every step of the way."
Can parents do that? Ugh, it doesn't really matter. I'm sure Val's family would find a way, and the important thing is the panic attack. I need to remind her she has power over the situation.
"Then we'll fight harder," I hiss, kneeling down a little closer to her. "What do they have? Money? We have magic."
"All of my spells require an incantation, Hannah," Valerie growls. "I can't even use magic with them around, or they'll get magic, too!"
Fuck. That's right.
"Fine," I say. "But you can't go with them. We'll find you somewhere else to stay, I promise."
"No," she shakes.
"Why not?"
"Because this is my house!" she shouts suddenly. "I live here. I grew up here. I've had nothing but this, empty and alone, since I was a little kid. They don't live here, but they want to rip it all away from me just because they can!"
I grind my teeth and her spine thrashes, the nubby tail at her back thickening and elongating.
"They can't," I insist. "Not if we don't let them."
"Legally, they can!" Valerie snaps.
I take a deep breath and stand up, stepping around to her front. I kneel down again, and place my hand in front of her vision until she looks up at me, eye-to-eye.
"Do we care?" I ask her.
"Huh?" she asks, yet more fur growing in, all as blonde as a golden retriever.
"Do we care," I repeat, "about what is and isn't legal. You say the word, and I'll make sure your parents never step foot in here again."
I might chase them off. I might kill them. I don't even know right now. I don't think I'm acting rationally, but when I find my best friend shaking in a ball on the floor I tend to stop caring about trivial little things like that. Who the fuck do they think they are, coming here and deciding to take her life away?
Her parents. Her parents. As if the ability to shove a penis into a vagina qualifies you to shape an entire person's life like pottery. And the only crafting tool Valerie's family knows how to use is a hammer! Of course I'd fight them for her. I'd fight everything for her.
Still, the weight of the decision seems to be too much for her. Just thinking about it makes her break, tears redoubling in intensity.
"I don't know," Valerie sobs. "I don't know. It would ruin everything, wouldn't it? Like what kind of precedent does it set if we decide being a mage means we can just walk up and chase the owners of a property away and claim it for ourselves?"
"Like you said, it's your house," I press.
"Not according to the government, and like, society at large?" Valerie laughs hopelessly, tears streaming down her face. "I own nothing. I'm no one. And I mean like, I guess it's fine, it's just stuff, I can always get more. And they're right, they did pay for it all. I earned none of it. I should just walk out, right? That's what I should do."
Well. I guess that's certainly the right thing to do from a certain perspective. But sitting here, watching her shake and sob while her parents contact the authorities with a second phone in order to get the muscle they need to force me to stop being able to help, I struggle to have any sympathy for the position.
"I'll do whatever you want me to do," I promise. "I think the cops are on the way, though."
"Of course they are," she laughs bitterly, in that choking way people laugh when it might actually just be more tears. "Well if there's one group of people we know will make things even worse, it's the cops. I just don't know what to do, Hannah. Most of the world hates me, you know? That's just something you have to internalize when you come out as trans. All I want is to be able to look in the mirror without feeling like I'm going to cry, and millions or maybe billions of people hate me for it. And that's not even counting how much worse magic is, I just… maybe this all was a mistake. Maybe my whole life was a mistake."
"Valerie, no," I insist.
"You probably shouldn't call me that," she mumbles, and a cold rage flushes through my body before I push it aside and force my focus to stay on her.
"Valerie, I think people are going to be more confused if I stop calling you that," I say.
She looks up at me with an expression like I'm stupid. But I just reach a hand forward towards her face, silently asking permission to make contact. She stares for a moment, then nods, and I brush my claws through the still-growing fur on her cheeks, now thick enough that her skin is no longer visible. The hair on her head grows just as fast, if not faster, so as she instinctively nuzzles against me I brush her new bangs away from her face with my thumb.
And that's when she notices. She freezes, pulling back and pawing at her own face—not literally, though it wouldn't be hard to assume otherwise. She quickly shuffles over to a nearby mirror and is instantly stunned by what she sees.
It hasn't just been the fur and tail that have been changing. Valerie's entire body has been shifting somewhat more subtly, with fat shifting around her face, her larynx shrinking, and her chest visibly beginning to swell. She stares at it all in wonder, a smile playing at her mouth as she reaches up to her small, newly-grown breasts as if to confirm that they're actually there. The relieved, almost painful giggle that escapes her when she does almost breaks my heart.
Then she seems to remember I'm actually here, and her hands drop back to her sides as embarrassment floods her.
"...You're leaking Transmutation magic," she accuses.
"Yeah," I admit. "Sorry. I'm not anymore, but… I got pretty mad."
"You'd better not turn my parents into monsters."
I laugh.
"If my spell hit your parents, Valerie, they would become something far, far worse than a monster."
Leeches. Scum. Parasites, immobile and incapable of anything other than taking and taking and sucking everything good in the world dry. It would be a mercy to kill them if Nature's Madness took them as targets, and that fact makes it all the more tempting. But no. As much as I want to hurt them, I'm not quite that far gone. No killing, no torture, and certainly no fates worse than death. I just want them to leave Valerie alone.
"This is… nice," Valerie admits, still staring at her reflection. "But it doesn't actually solve anything. I don't have a home anymore. Where am I supposed to go? My parents won't give up trying to screw me over, I'm too much of a stain on their reputation as-is."
"Well," I frown, "if you don't want to live with me and deal with my family, I could probably take you to Manumit. You could live on the tree with me for a while. No way your parents could get you there."
"What, just… join you on your otherworldly adventure?" Valerie laughs. "The one that keeps traumatizing you?"
"I mean, I get that it isn't an ideal option, but you'd hopefully get to relax a little while, and we could hang out together, and I'm pretty sure nobody in that world cares if you're transgender because nobody even seems to care that I'm a tiny, multidimensional bug monster. The bigotry is against Chaos mages and robots instead."
"Didn't that robot that was hanging out with you want to exterminate all human life, or something?"
"Well yeah," I admit, "but that's no reason to be racist against it."
"Hannah, that's… god. You know what? Fuck it," Valerie groans. "Let's go."
"Goddess," I correct. "And really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she nods. "I'm the only one who hasn't gotten to see this cool fantasy world of yours, and I have to admit I'd really like to. And it's not like you can't send me back, so why not? I can probably help you out a lot more on that side of things than I can over here anyway."
"Well… okay!" I grin. "Great! I'll, uh… hmm. I should definitely pop over and ask permission before I just pull you into Manumit."
"That's fine, as long as you're fast," Valerie shrugs. "It looks like I need to pack like my parents wanted me to anyway."
I chuckle.
"I guess so. No computers, though. Nothing that can do math on its own."
Her eyebrows raise, but she nods.
"That sucks. It'll be way harder to prepare my spells, but that's fine. It makes sense. And I can use my good colored pencils for once!"
"You can probably pack light in general. Manumit will be happy to supply whatever you don't have."
"Noted. I'll wake you up in five minutes or so?"
I nod. I guess I'll need to find something to send over with my dimensional transport spell in order to knock myself out… except, wait, do I need to do that? Can I not just target like, a thimble's worth of air and use that to force myself unconscious? I try it, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the morning on Manumit.
Yeesh, I feel grody. A quick look at my body reveals that I've had another major molt, growing in size and further defining my fore and hindlimbs. I guess that makes sense; I did use my Transmutation magic to regenerate a pinky earlier today. Speaking of pinkies, I actually have proto-fingers on four of my limbs now, little chitinous grabby claws that I can probably manipulate objects with. Cool!
It's also not what's important right now, though, so I quickly rip myself free of my molt and call for Elpida before I start to munch down, waking up Helen and Kagiso in the process. Elpida is in our room less than a minute later, smiling as always.
"How can I help you, Hannah?" she asks.
"I've got a question for you about bringing another human here," I say between bites of my own discarded flesh. "Another friend of mine, Valerie, is in a really nasty spot, and I'm hoping to let her live on this side of the pond for a while, so to speak."
"I see," Elpida says. "I must admit, we were not expecting so many extra visitors when Sela brought you three here. There is some concern about security and preparation. Additionally, I fear that Ida's visit, while wonderfully enriching while she was here, may have been a step back for our people overall. We were all so happy to have her here that her swift departure feels like a failure. 'Could we have done a good enough job that she wouldn't have wanted to leave,' and so on. These instability issues, to be clear, are not your fault; they are a consequence of our collective prolonged depression."
"Oh, that doesn't sound good," I hum. "You know that we were all planning to leave at some point soon, right?"
"We are aware," Elpida nods. "In fact, I intended to speak with you about that today. To summarize in the interest of time: I think it would be good if you left sooner rather than later. Ideally without bringing in anyone else for us to get attached to."
Toffee and beans, we screwed up somewhere, didn't we?
"...I understand," I say, bobbing my body in a nod. "I'm very sorry we ended up hurting rather than helping."
Elpida's smile grows a little softer.
"On the contrary, Hannah," she assures me, "I consider this a very successful trial run. You have been respectful, considerate, and visibly helped by the services we provided you. While I think our people need a break from dealing with humans for a while, you have been an immeasurably welcome guest, and we would be happy to host you and your friends again at a later date. If more humans were like you, Hannah, our problems would be far fewer in number."
That perks me right back up.
"Oh!" I say. "Well, thank you, Elpida. If you can't host my friend I understand, but in that case I'd prefer to leave immediately so I can get a safe place to bring them over. Is, um… that okay? Helen, Kagiso?"
"Who's this friend?" Helen asks.
"You haven't met her," I say. "She's an Art mage, like you! Her name is Valerie, and she needs somewhere to live after her parents disowned her."
Helen scowls.
"Well that fucking sucks," she says. "We don't exactly have a place to live, but I guess if she wants to travel with us I'm happy if she's even half as competent as that Ida girl. She was fucking badass."
"Where we going?" Kagiso asks.
"Well I wanna check up on all the things that are killing the tree to try and figure out what their deal is and if there's anything we can do to help," I answer. "The Sapsea is… definitely a problem beyond our ability to solve, but more importantly I don't think the tree is actually going to run out of sap because of it. The hole is way smaller than it seems to be."
"The hole is bigger than three branches put together!" Helen protests. "It's nearly as thick as the trunk itself!
"And that's only a tiny fraction of the tree's total hypervolume," I say. "Look, it might be a problem, but I promise that it's definitely not the most pressing one. So I say we either go for the fire on the canopy or the roots. I expect the fire to be the biggest problem, because while it's probably also only three-dimensional, the real problem isn't the risk of the tree burning down, it's the risk of the tree losing so many leaves that it starves. The fire may or may not be 4D, but light definitely isn't, and the tree still needs to eat."
"Wait, light? What are you talking about?" Helen asks.
"Trees get energy from light hitting their leaves," I say. "And most leaves are in the canopy, which is on fire. Which is bad. I think that's probably the most urgent problem we need to check out, but it's also the longest journey by far. I don't even know how we'd get up there."
"That, I think we can help with," Elpida assures me. "You will not need to worry about transport."
"Oh!" I say. "Well great, thank you. Is that still the case if Valerie joins us? Or… actually, you said the problem was people getting attached to Ida right before she left, yeah? Wouldn't that problem be negated if Val doesn't like… take advantage of any amenities? We could keep her presence mostly secret until it's time to go, I just need to get her out of where she is right now. Help providing her with a few basic living items since she's basically being chased out of her home would also be nice, but it's not at all essential. We can work it out."
Elpida takes a second to think, which generally means she's having a long-range conversation about it with somebody.
"Agreed," Elpida says. "I've discussed it, and these terms are acceptable. Valerie will be confined to this room except with specific escort and permission, and her presence here will not be public knowledge. Additionally, you will leave here today."
"I'm fine with that if everyone else is…?" I ask, looking back at Helen and Kagiso. They nod.
"Is fun here," Kagiso sighs, stretching her body. "No want to go. But would not want to stay alone."
"Yeah, this has been… nice. Way nicer than I ever thought it would be," Helen admits. "But it's time to get back to getting shit done, and I like the sound of saving the world."
"Crafted no have organs anyway," Kagiso giggles.
"Delightful. At your leave, then, you may feel free to bring Valerie into this room, Hannah," Elpida says.
"Will do," I nod. "Though just a heads-up, I'll be unconscious for a bit while I do that. Not sure how long, but probably less than an hour? Uh, I mean, less than a count."
"Understood," Elpida nods, and I teleport some air back earthside and wake up on Valerie's couch.
"You be a good boy, okay?" Valerie coos, scratching Fartbuns behind the ears as I groggily open my eyes. "Hannah will make sure they take care of you."
"I will?" I yawn. Fartbuns looks weird. His four extra limbs are growing in and I'm pretty sure his teeth are getting bigger and sharper. But the goofy, shaggy dog seems as happy as ever, so I guess he's probably fine.
"You will," Valerie says firmly, adjusting her newly-stuffed backpack. "Anyway, you've got good timing. I'm ready to go."
"How long was I out?" I ask.
"Just five minutes," she shrugs. "I didn't have to grab much. Just whatever paper art and art supplies I have, plus some clothes and stuff. I don't own very much that's relevant. I know you said no computers, but if you can rescue my phone at some point, that'd be a huge help on our trip. Most of my prepared spells are on that thing."
"I'll see what I can do," I agree with a stretch. "The Crafted have agreed to help us with our trip, so you shouldn't need too much, but… yeah."
"Yeah," Valerie nods. "I want my damn phone back."
"Yeah," I agree, slightly distracted as I see some people walk up to the front porch with my spatial sense. Oh good, the police are here.
"Hmm. It would have probably been smart to bring you back to my house before I teleport you away, but it looks like that isn't an option anymore."
"Cops?" Valerie asks."Ugh. Shit timing for them, as always."
"Yup," I agree. "Oh well, we'll just do it right now."
I hold my hand out, and Valerie blinks in surprise.
"Are you sure?" she asks, but I just sleepily gesture at her to hurry it up. She walks over and reaches out her hand towards me. I take it.
"Thanks, Hannah," Valerie says. "I mean it. Are you, uh, going to be okay if we leave you here unconscious and alone?"
"No, but I'm still going to do it," I shrug. "I teleported basically nothing between universes, so hopefully the sleep-recharge won't be too long. Hmm. I should leave a note, probably. Paper and pen?"
She hands me her sketchpad, and write "I should wake up in an hour or two. I do not need to go to the hospital." Then I tear the note out and put it in my lap before returning the sketchpad.
"A flawless plan," Valerie says dryly.
"Eh, I'm sure Fartbuns will protect my body too. Won't you, boy?"
"Boof!" Fartbuns says, likely having no intention of doing so.
"See? It'll be fine," I yawn. "Gosh, teleporting things between universes really takes it out of me. I hope naming this spell will make it easier to use."
Valerie's parents start talking animatedly to the cops about all the horrible and evil things I did to them like make sure their child was safe, and the cops seem… mostly annoyed, actually? But they still obligingly make their way inside to head downstairs to evict me.
"Well, they're coming," I announce. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Valerie smiles. "Isekai me, truck-kun."
"The fuck?" I ask, but I'm already casting my spell and pulling Valerie into my soul. She vanishes right before the cops make it downstairs, giving me time to grin sleepily at the two of them as my eyes flutter shut.
"Hello, officers," I drawl. "You can't arrest me because it's naptime."
Then I collapse like a ragdoll and fall asleep.