My face burned. Unlike me? That wasn’t a fair assessment. My powers don’t hurt to use.

Wait.

I hesitated as I tried thinking of even one time I used my magic after arriving at the Academy where I wasn’t in pain because of it. No memories came forth.

Don’t reply to that.

Anyway.

I thought of everything that happened. My memories were sort of disarrayed, more and more being remembered belatedly. Eventually Raphael hummed, hand dropping. Nocta reached out, shaking Raphael’s hand.

Hand reaching out, Raphael yawned with his free hand as he cast magic. Unlike the disarranged mess of memories I’d shown him, he played the memories in chronological order.

I knew I fucked up the moment my inner voice sounded out as I followed Nocta, “At least he didn’t try calling me intelligent. I could accept quick thinker as a compliment,” My inner voice commentated dryly.

“W-wait,” I panicked, grabbing Raphael as Nocta cackled, “Don’t show my thoughts!”

Raphael glanced at me, “No.”

I gaped.

What? But… but why?

I watched the movie-like image of my memories that was set in the middle of the room. I flushed, sitting down in the corner Raphael took a single step away from.

“If he was going to embarrass me by showing my inner thoughts to a bunch of assholes, I was stealing my corner back.”

Raphael took a step back as my inner thoughts were audibly relayed. I curled further into the corner.

“Don’t distract me,” Raphael muttered, looking embarrassed.

To my surprise, soon an image not the battle flickered into view. I darted to my feet, eyes wide.

War here was too quiet.

“VIVA LA REVOLUTION!” Me, my actual form, cried out as I waved the flag. We were going around, burning things and planting trees in the burning ruins of the capitalistic cityscape. People screamed. I watched through my past self’s eyes. She was stumbling back as the military appeared, “Shit. Shitshitshit—“

Gunfire and screams echoed out. She scrambled away, eyes wide. People’s heads exploded next to her, and she started crawling. Her hands were bloody as she clawed at the ground.

Pow-pow-pow-pow!

BOOM!

She looked up, breathing stopping as she stared at a tank that just rolled into view.

“GET DOWN!” The army ordered.

She staggered, sprinting into a nearby burning building. The smoke was suffocating. Another person had followed her, looking as white and panicked as she was.

“They’re not arresting us, they’re shooting us even when we surrender!”

“Shitshitshit—“ She stared at the rubble, feet moving, “Put that wood on me. Fucking throw shit on me and get next to me. We’re-we’re—“

The man did as asked, and she cried out. The screaming didn’t fade, gunfire and explosions rocking the world as the man and I cried.

“Scream for help,” I ordered, “Beg the military to help you remove the stuff. Wait, hit yourself in the head with a rock.”

The man did as asked, shaking his head as he dropped the rock, turning, “HELP!” He screamed, “HELP US! ANYONE, PLEASE!”

The military appeared in the doorway. Three men with guns walked up, their faces covered in blood and their eyes cruel.

She sobbed, afraid, “Please, oh my god, thank-thank fuck. Save us,” She begged. I begged.

The memory faded, skeletons being blasted by water. My memories continued playing. I stood, eyes wide and unseeing as I stared at my own memories playing out.

Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun—

I remained frozen, staring at the screen with unseeing eyes, the memories continuing. The military had glanced at each other, and they saved us. Both the man and I clung to the military guy that saved us, sobbing and shaking, afraid that they’d turn their guns on us.

Afraid that we’d be slaughtered like the rest were. Then they turned their guns on the man. I needed to-I needed to—

A hand reached out, gripping my arm painfully tight. I blinked, dazed, looking to the side. Nocta was there, gripping my arm tight enough to draw blood.

“You okay?” He asked quietly as my memories continued playing out.

I swallowed, nodding as I relaxed, the world falling back into place, “Thanks.”

The room was obscenely bright, but the floating images and sounds that made up the movie of my memories wasn’t a monitor, everyone still easily able to see what was going on.

By the time I focused again, the memory-me was on her hands and knees, throwing up blood.

“If only I could get this blood to the vampires somehow,” My inner voice commented idly, “I’m sure they’d find it useful.”

Only a few minutes later, my memories blasted out the music I’d pumped Nocta’s heart to. Then I insulted angels.

I flushed, “Is that why you’re showing my thoughts too? I didn’t mean you.”

Raphael didn’t respond, but his glance wasn’t a mean one.

More music appeared in my thoughts as I healed people, a lot of my thoughts being spoken. The magic circles were visible in my memories.

“I should have just given myself up to Valentine,” My inner voice said, sounding depressed, “These people didn’t deserve to die just to prevent me from being tortured and raped in a basement for the rest of my life.”

I sighed, reaching up and scrubbing at my face. I didn’t care why he was showing my thoughts, but I’m punching him in the fucking face the very second this memory replay is over.

The black filled the area Raphael was using to show my memories.

“I’m scared,” My inner voice said, voice weak and quiet. A pathetic thought I admitted to myself if only so I wouldn’t cry.

My jaw clenched. I scowled, glowering at Raphael. Me complimenting and insulting various people in the infirmary—some the same person in as many minutes—was shown. Even my thoughts about my country and my explanation of the world was added in.

It ended with me walking toward the doors of the infirmary, coughing, “Jesus. Did I always have to play the part of a weak bitch? I was never the damsel in distress sort, don’t make me one now, body dearest.”

Then the images flickered and changed.

“Leave me,” Nocta rasped, looking at Indigo who was dragging him, “I’m, I’m done for.”

Indigo looked conflicted, but Nocta released him, shoving him forward. Looking behind them, Indigo looked pained as he turned, sprinting.

“Well, this is it, eh?” Nocta’s thoughts echoed out as Nocta collapsed.

He stared at the line of warriors fighting the skeletons.

Crimson hair tied behind a beautiful woman with a red crop-top soaked in her own blood broke through the line of warriors, stumbling. Green eyes focused intently on his form.

“Oh you fucking idiot,” Nocta thought, “There’s no way you’ll make it to my body before the skeletons get here.”

Despite his thoughts, the woman sprinted as fast as she could, ice forming around her as she slid to him. She didn’t seem to notice Silas yelling out, looking horrified as he reached out toward her.

“At least I get to die in the arms of a beautiful woman,” Nocta’s thoughts were hazy, and he watched a skeleton reach out.

Boom!

Her arms wrapped around him as bones clattered around them, entire body shaking as she sprinted. Blood was dripping down her chin, and she looked pale. The freckles on her skin glittered in the light as her legs carried her toward the front line.

His vision went black.

In the darkness, a white humanoid stood.

“It’s my time, eh?”

The white humanoid chuckled, the voice gentle like the first rays of sunshine on a cool spring morning. As comforting as the first sound of birds chirping.

“No. The realm-fallen is as stubborn as every other of her species. I am here to request that you give her a message, from all gods to her.”

Nocta harrumphed, crossing his arms, “Oh, that depends. What’s the message?”

“If she tries bringing any technology from her realm to this one, she will make an enemy of all gods. No rock should be made to think, and no arrow should be fired automatically.”

I blinked at the message, eyebrows raising. Like I would want to bring AK-47’s to this world. That’s a recipe for disaster. Could you imagine the Fae King with a fucking tank?

No way in hell. Especially with magic? Even a single gun would be enough to destroy the world.

… Well. Now I think that. I suppose earlier I’d been thinking of introducing guns to this world. I mean Indigo with a sniper rifle would be hot as fuck.

Would the gods make an exception for him and him only? Like “oh but Indigo the hot sniper can get his sniper rifle. No one else though.”? That would be great.

Indigo glanced over, and I realized I was staring. My gaze turned back to the memories, face red.

Nocta scoffed, “What? Rocks can’t think.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“Her world has gone beyond, she was born an ascended being,” The god mentioned. The god shook his head, reaching out toward Nocta, “Damn, already? I’m not do—“

Nocta woke up. He stared up at the beautiful woman as she stared at him. Blood covered her body, but her gaze was gentle on his.

“She looks at me like Raphael does.”

I glanced over at Raphael as Nocta asked if I was an angel. He was mid-yawn. I looked back at the memory. Nocta stared up at my face.

He watched as I looked around, entire face shifting the moment I looked away from him. The kindness and the small smile I hadn’t noticed I’d been looking at him with faded.

The crimson-haired woman struggled to her feet, entire body shaking as she coughed. She didn’t notice that she left the mana regen potion next to Nocta. He grabbed it, watching as she staggered and stumbled.

She practically collapsed at the next injured person’s feet. Nocta watched, dazed, as she kept going. Soon, Silas spoke using the PA system. His voice sounded a lot less stoic than what I’d heard.

“Stop attacking! Fiona will kill herself healing those you injure! Retract your troops and retreat, before it’s too late,” Silas begged even as he ran out to further defend her, a glittering sword looking like it was made of glass in his hands.

Hey! That was mine! Or, well, I guess I didn’t use it… Did he still have it?

As Nocta listened to Silas’s begging, more green grass was stained red with my blood. Nocta watched as I collapsed, attention moving from Silas to me.

Percy struggled to stand, her entire body shaking. When she finally managed it, her eyes looked around, entire body collapsing backward.

“Fiona!” Valentine’s voice cried out.

Magic spread out as Valentine appeared. Black veins were very visible in the sunlight as his sickly green eyes were wide with worry, tears falling down his face. He was flying toward her.

Before he could get there, Silas leapt up, tackling Valentine out of the air.

“You won’t have her!” Silas snapped.

“I need to be there to protect my angel,” Nocta’s inner voice echoed out. The kid scrambled to his feet, staggering as he sprinted toward her.

Fiona’s eyes were open, but they didn’t turn to him. She was healing people, her hand glowing green, but it didn’t look like she even registered where they were.

Every injured person that was dragged over had to hold her hand, her energy wrapping around them. Occasionally, she sipped at a magical potion. Nocta supplied Percy with the rest of her potion.

“Stop! You’re letting her kill herself!” Valentine cried out, struggling to get closer as everyone focused their attacks on him.

Nocta scoffed, glaring at the man, “Creepy bastard,” His thoughts clashed with his words, “Am I? I’m not the one continuing to injure people.”

Valentine froze, eyes wide as they focused on Nocta’s. His gaze turned to Fiona, expression crumpling.

“You’re an idiot,” Valentine said, shoulders shaking as he covered his face.

His undead army stopped attacking people. His eyes looked up, expression soft as they landed on Fiona, “I’ll be back for you. I don’t care what you say or how you think of me, this isn’t our end. You’ll be mine.”

Turning, Valentine fled. Silas tried stopping him, but a giant rock formed from Valentine’s hands, slamming into the Battle Mage.

Silas coughed up blood.

Many people dragged him to Fiona. After a long moment of healing, she stopped.

I watched as I said I was out of magic. As I asked for a potion.

Lazarus’s expression crumbled, “We’re out. Call every medic here.”

Nocta did as asked. Soon a team of healers was at Silas’ side, their healing magic infusing his body to try and prevent his death.

Nocta wasn’t paying attention to them, though, staring at me as I spoke quietly, asking if anyone was there. He reached out, patting her back.

“She must be scared,” Nocta thought as I explained I couldn’t see or hear. As I spoke.

Nocta’s hearing starting ringing violently as people started screaming, and he held his ears, crying out.

“It’s too loud!” Nocta shifted, staggering away from the noise.

When he looked back over after the noise died down, he saw Silas and Percy—me—getting carted away on wood. He ran over.

I swallowed, watching as Nocta reached out when I asked questions.

So he was the one who had been there the whole time. The rest was just review. I didn’t realize how much blood I had been getting everywhere, I mused, watching as Nocta kept an eye on me.

His thoughts were mostly revolving around how crazy I was, as well as wonder and awe about my detailed descriptions.

The memories ended, fading away as Nocta stared at me. I had my hands on my knees as I coughed, blood spilling liberally to the ground.

“She’s insane. She was so confident that Silas would be fine, she didn’t seem to think for a second he wouldn’t be. Even he seemed to expect her to tell him he’d be disabled for life. A full recovery from a death sentence…”

The memory faded. The room was silent, all the professors that had looked discontent now looking pale or rueful.

“You said again,” Silas pointed out in the silence of the room.

“What?” Nocta asked.

“Fiona. Her thoughts. She was wondering if she would die again. Realm-fallen do not die in the transfer between bodies and realms.”

I looked up, at the ceiling. I didn’t do anything. I was innocent. I stared at the very white, plain, not very interesting ceiling with great intrigue. Wow. How did they make it look so bland? So absolutely plain?

Or, wait. Shouldn’t I be acting casual? Yeah. I’ll say it was just an expression used in my world.

Looking back down, I met Silas’ gaze, “Uh, sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Did you die before?” Silas asked.

I hesitated. Well that wasn’t a repeat of what he said, “Uh… Well… No? It’s—that’s just an, um, an expression. That my world uses. Because of this thing called video-games—”

“You aren’t an undead,” The president interrupted, looking interested, “How did you die? When? How long ago?”

I pulled my lips into my mouth for a moment, staring at the president, “Again—“

“She died when she arrived at the Academy. Valentine raised her,” Raphael snitched, scratching at his scruffy jaw as his dark eyes focused on mine, “Using his magic and taking advantage of her soul being the thing carrying her memories, she healed herself and fully revived the corpse. I didn’t show the memory because of how gruesome it was, and due to the reactions it would have gotten. Her skills at healing had not yet been shown.”

I frowned, glancing around awkwardly. Instead of the hostile gazes I expected, everyone was staring at me with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“Y-y-you died? And you immediately tried taking the entrance exam an hour after?” Herald spluttered, looking incredulous.

I pouted at him, “Why are you so focused on that point?”

“No wonder Valentine wants you so badly,” Silas mused, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, one hand reaching up and scrubbing at his face, “With you, anyone can become an immortal.”

“W-well, no,” I corrected, “Valentine actually has a fuck ton of magic. With me, a magic battery, and a necromancer I can revive anyone. I haven’t tried healing age or anything, yet, but—.”

“Oh great gods,” A random professor collapsed to the ground, after interrupting me. He looked pale, eyes glassy, “We weren’t defending a student. We were defending a fledgling god.”

“Wh—I’m not—“

“Some gods are unable to do what you have done,” Nocta disagreed, adding a title to my name, “Fiona, goddess of healing.”

“No,” I refused and pointed down at him, like Nocta was a particularly bad dog.

“Fiona, the blood-soaked goddess of healing and eternal life,” Silas added on, though his tone was much more teasing than Nocta’s.

“That’s not—You can’t just invent a god!“ I complained, shaking my head, “Whatever. I’m, I’m going. You guys are crazy. I’m leaving before you start a cult.”

Turning, I walked to the door. No one stopped me as I stalked out. The door shut behind me, and I leaned against it, covering my face.

After I calmed down, I walked away.

The halls were lit up by the floating magical glow. I wandered around aimlessly. Desmond appeared next to me at some point in time. I found myself following him through the underground without thought.

My back was pressed against a wall, Desmond staring at me intently.

“May I?”

“Only what’s—ngh.“

Before I could say more, Desmond’s cold lips were on mine. He licked and sucked and tasted every part of my mouth. Sparks rose and twisted within me at his actions. After several long moments where he thoroughly took every drop of blood he could get from my mouth, his lips left mine.

Desmond’s tongue reached out, licking every part of my face, neck, and shoulders he could get his hands on. The ground of the basement was cold, I mused, staring up at Desmond, dazed.

His tongue traced my stomach and sides. I made a noise of discomfort as his tongue dipped under my belt-line. He didn’t stop, though.

My leg rose, entire body shuddering as a tongue lapped up blood on my chest. Where did my shirt go?

Desmond’s hand caressed the area between my legs. I whimpered, both hands wrapping around his wrist as my body arched and writhed.

“I am grateful to have a master like you,” Desmond breathed.

“Your master doesn’t seem grateful to have you,” Someone replied dryly.

To my relief, Desmond was pulled off of me. I stared up, seeing Silas.

“H-hey,” I greeted breathily, “Where’s my shirt?”

The man glanced over. I looked where he was looking, seeing Desmond wringing my shirt for every drop it had on it. My blood was liberally dripping from it.

“Ah,” I muttered, sitting up.

I took a deep breath. My mind was fuzzy, but the cough I expected didn’t happen.

Raphael was amazing, and pure, and beautiful, and wonderful. I regret ever having thought he was just a Deus Ex Machina who acted like Orion’s bitch.

If Orion ever appeared I’d make him my bitch, just so that Raphael, my sweet and beautiful savior, would never be forced to bow down to that asshole.

I stood up. I wasn’t dizzy, and my exhaustion wasn’t debilitating. Everything was amazing. Life was great. I could breathe. I wasn’t actively coughing or dying. Wow. How beautiful.

“Giving the blood of an immortal goddess to a vampire is a bad idea,” Silas muttered, staring at the vampire with a frown.

I sighed, reaching out and half-heartedly tugging at my shirt as I spoke.

“Good thing my blood is in a realm where vampires don’t exist, then.”

Desmond gave me a defensive look, clinging to my shirt. I gave it up for a lost cause.

“If you do not accept that body as your own, you will die,” Silas said, “If you wish, I could give you books written by other realm-fallen to help with the process.”

I sighed again, staring at my shirt. Crop-tops were an advancement this world didn’t need either, I decided. Wouldn’t want to make an enemy out of all the gods because I invented crop-tops. Truly an evil technology.

Yep. That’s why I didn’t want my shirt back. Not because Desmond was clinging to it.

“I’m not a goddess. Or a god,” I said flatly, “And if I were, it wouldn’t be for something dumb like healing. It’d be like war or something. Or, well, ff,” I couldn’t say that when I’m actively trying to prevent a war from ravaging Eros, “Whatever. Isn’t Persephone the goddess of spring and the afterlife or something?”

“Not in this realm, no,” Silas commented, eyes trailing my form, “I could not say what the gods that go to your realm are called.”

I hummed.

“Whatever. I’m not a god, so don’t go around calling me one.”

“It is an insult to the gods to deny that you are one,” Silas refused, silver gaze finally traveling up my body to meet my eyes, “Very few gods are able to bring someone to life as you are. To claim that you are lesser is an insult to the other gods. You will anger them, if you continue to deny your nature.”

I stared at Silas with a flat expression.

“Did you forget that I would not have survived had Valentine not been there? You’re forgetting half of the equation. If I’m a goddess, then you’re calling him a god. Neither of us are.”

I huffed, annoyed, looking away. The basement looked as unchanging as ever, everything looking exactly the same as every other stretch of hall. There was some blood on the floors, though.

“He is simply a powerful necromancer. It was his energy and summoning that brought you back to the body, but it was your skill and ability that revived you.”

“My skill and ability that literally everyone who paid even the slightest amount of attention during science and math class and medical dramas has in my realm,” I deadpanned, “That’s like a fuck ton of people.”

“Yes, it seems that the mundane realm is a realm full of potential lesser gods,” Silas agreed, “Would all people from your realm refuse such a title?”

“Half the people would call you a heathen. A great majority of the world believes in one god only, the god of creation. The other half of the world would take advantage of the situation and molest minors while stealing every bit of gold they could.”

“So it seems you are unique, then,” Silas mused, completely missing my point.

I sighed, “Whatever, dude. I’m tired. Desmond, let’s go.”

Desmond hummed as he looked up, tongue tracing the fabric in his hands as his eyes met mine. My cheeks burned, sparks fluttering down my stomach. I looked away.

“You said you’d help me around the Academy, right? Where’s the dorms?”

“Of course, Master,” Desmond agreed, voice silken.

Reaching out, he took my hand, leading me away from the sudden cultist. If everyone thought I was considered a god here, I was an atheist.

I’d doubt everyone non-angelic that couldn’t actively hear and reply to prayers. The last ten remaining were called immortals for a reason, not gods.

Sighing lightly, I continued following Desmond, leaving Silas behind.