I’m still not sure why Artemis dresses me up in this frilly stuff. It’s not like this will coordinate with whatever number she goes with, probably made of lots of furs stitched together. It’s just her look; and it works for her.

Meanwhile, I look like some kind of designer doll.

Whatever I guess.

She’s had me try on two dozen different ones so far, all of them carefully preserved in her dimensional storage for however many centuries. The extensive closet space in my castle is certainly a waste considering it’s always empty thanks to her efforts.

But that’s fine. I’ll wear her on my arm and vice versa, and that’ll be enough coordination. Probably.

I thought about bringing Izahne along, just to nip any jealousy in the bud, but there’s a rule for retainers: they’re not invited.

Just us gods and goddesses.

I guess I’ll have to find an excuse to spend more time with Izahne doing something else later. Something worth dressing up for, maybe. I wonder if the dark pantheon allows retainers at galas?

No matter. I’m sure I’ll find out later, no doubt I’ll be getting my own invite at some point in the future.

I do the little spin Artemis wants me to do, considering the image she’d projected through our bonds, while she politely claps and smiles.

…And radiates positivity, and other things I’m going to ignore.

“Isn’t this one good enough? How many more do you want me to try on? I only need to wear one, you know,” I whine.

And she tilts her head and blinks.

…And removes three dozen more from her dimensional storage onto the bed.

A sigh escapes me. “Fine. But no more after this, alright?”

***

It’s a few days yet before the gala, so I’ve got some time to think.

…And to put more work into my plane, now consisting of recreating my resurrected-and-again-dead homunculus priests.

Good thing I made notes of what their names were the first time!

(You didn’t take any notes the first time,) Nyx points out.

And she’s right. I didn’t write down a single damned thing, nor do I remember it.

Not that their names particularly matter, I’ll just… make something up I guess.

…

Hours of naming my newly re-resurrected clergy, which takes longer than actually recreating them, I’m again face-down on my bed.

Maybe I should just stay here for the next, I don’t know, hundred years or so.

It’s not like I need to eat or sleep. I wonder if I can just sleep as long as I want. If I can’t, then what’s the point of being a goddess?

…

Maybe I’d be less bored then. But I doubt it.

…

…

I wonder if I can resurrect Rose too. Would it be the same person? Not that it was ever a person, or had much of a personality I guess.

Maybe that’s the nature of being a construct.

…

I need to… I don’t know. Talk to somebody.

About Omorth.

***

“So why the hells are you talking to me of all people?”

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Pearl isn’t particularly happy about me cornering her in Artemis’ treehouse. I bumped into her on the way to the pools where I’m sure she was planning to turn it from a brilliant blue-green to a stinking brownish-gray.

Not judging, If I’m not paying attention I tend to turn them into ash slurry, though I can at least reabsorb my ash.

“Because you were here, and I don’t want to bother people poking my voice in their heads if they’re busy,” I reply.

She furrows her brow. “Since when do you give a shit whether you’re bothering people?”

I shrug. “Maybe I don’t. I’m not really sure anymore. To the point though. I still have Omorth’s body, and I definitely still have his soulbond. So technically, I should be able to resurrect him…”

“So why are you waiting then? Bring him the fuck back,” she snaps, barely letting me finish my previous comment.

“Because,” I say while resisting a sigh, “the last time I resurrected someone from a soul, they had no memory or knowledge of anything other than their absolute devotion to me. And I’m not sure I want him to be here like that, I don’t want another sycophant, they’re annoying.”

“That’s…” she trails off.

“Yeah. Horrifying. I really, really don’t like that this whole god…dess, thing… it comes with the ability to tie my important people to my own soul, but it doesn’t really retain the person themselves so much as, the idea of that person.”

Silence grows between us for the moment, though I haven’t missed that this is the most civil conversation I’ve had with the former healer since I… did that thing to her.

I absentmindedly probe through my bonds for curiosity… Artemis is back in her audience chamber, humiliating yet another challenger that had no business challenging a literal goddess. Meanwhile, Nyx is reassembling her workshop back on Gramr, piece by piece since her storage devices are missing and her dimensional storage was completely empty when she became a daemon.

“Well,” Pearl continues, “the only way to know for sure is to try it, right? Unless you know another god that’s tried it.”

“Hold that thought,” I say. “She just finished downing the latest idiot, I can just ask her now.”

Artemis? Have you ever resurrected a retainer that died?

I feel a spark of happiness from our bonds, maybe she’s happy that I’m talking to her while she’s working? No idea.

But after a moment of feeling conflict, she simply projects a feeling of confirmation.

“She has…”

Did they remember who they were, or were they empty?

After another moment of conflict, I receive an image of a full water jar next to an empty water jar, and a feeling of uncertainty.

Thanks, that helps. Have fun beating up your idiot subjects.

“Alright, it seems sometimes they remember and sometimes they don’t. Maybe it’s not a predictable thing… could be related to whether their souls have already been what, cleansed or whatever? By the Record?”

Pearl shrugs. “Maybe. But I think you should try it. If you can bring him back you should.”

“I suppose you’re right. And well, even if he doesn’t remember, maybe he’ll get a new life and get to start over.”

…

“You know, like I did. I have no idea who I was before I got soul scrambled… well, other than who I was before before before before however many reincarnations before I got soul scrambled… assuming it was ever unscrambled –”

She interrupts, “Shut up and do it.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

I retrieve the possessed-sword swordsman’s remains from my dimensional storage, and even just holding it in my hands I feel the words to recall him forming in my mind.

But screw that. So undignified! Those weird rhymes? I can do so much better, even if it doesn’t give me a headache doing it that way.

“{reforge blade},” I say to start. There’s no point in restoring him to a broken body.

And in my hands, the two halves all but leap toward each other, searing back together at the shattered edge with blindingly bright golden flame.

“Ah, that only kinda hurt? Maybe a little behind the eyes… But I’ll be fine. The next part is probably going to suck though…”

The former healer looks like she’s uninvested, but I can tell from her bond that she’s actually paying close attention. She cared about the big lug.

At least I already know exactly how to do the next part… for some reason.

Maybe I should be questioning where this knowledge keeps coming from, but I have a feeling that’s something I’m far better off not knowing.

…

Nyx, did you just laugh?

(Hm? Nope, not me,) my former Assistant answers.

Artemis, was that you?

My foxkin wife simply projects back confusion, and then a feeling of denial.

Huh.

WELL! I’m just not going to worry about it! Yes, it’s all fine here haha.

Anyway.

I take a breath in anticipation of the headache or worse that I’m about to face. I at least get the impression that using this method has much better odds of resurrecting a complete person.

“{restore Anima},” I say.

Ah, there it goes. My headache pounds a little harder. But even so, True Sense is telling me that the weapon in my hands is one step closer to being a living creature.

…Wait, I thought only living things could have an Anima?

…

…

Well, he was supposedly a living sword, so I’m just going to pretend it all makes sense.

“It doesn’t look any different,” Pearl interjects.

“Hey, I’m getting there. We just finished step two out of… four, I think?”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I think.”

The former healer sighs but leaves it at that.

Moving right along.

“{recall AkashicSelf bind}.”

As I feel a chain of intangible mana link to the restored weapon, the pounding gets louder, heavier. For a moment, my vision blurs at the edges.

Blinking, I look around deliriously before finding a chair in a nearby sitting area. “Sorry. That almost dropped me. I’m probably going to pass out after this, so tell me how it went when he wakes up, alright?”

“You… really don’t care that you could… no, nevermind. Just bring him back.”

I nod weakly, but I know I can’t stop now. If I do, I’ll have to start over.

Messing with souls like this isn’t without consequences, and I’m sure it’s for a reason.

…Some kind of reason, anyway.

No time like the present.

“{restore Ego bind}.”

As my consciousness fades, I feel the sword rattle in my hands.

***

I open my eyes to Artemis fussing over me again.

…

Actually…

No matter how blearily I’m blinking around now, I’m not going to mistake her.

Izahne is here too.

Not… right here. But in the room, at least.

“What?” my fox wife asks, half panicked. “What?”

“Omorth,” I mumble. “Restore.”

…

He’s not in the room…

But it doesn’t take more than a glance inside myself to tell his bond is active again.

Now I just need to see if he remembers anything about himself.