So.

What do I even do about this?

Taking quick stock of what exactly I’m looking at in regards to the wounded goddess in my arms…

Well.

Her wounds are obvious enough, and her divinity looks unstable somehow… strange how ‘divine sight’ can be useful… and I’m only just learning how to use it.

What’s less obvious I suppose is that she’s actually wounded… and by that I mean…

Her Vessel is gone. Just, gone.

She is actually wounded.

…

And that’s a lot more serious. I know it is. What’s worse is that I’m not even sure how to fix it.

Sure, I have some ideas, but most of them are probably bad… or, usually bad anyway, even if they’re effective…

(Now you’re learning.)

I thought you didn’t want to talk to me?

(What?) Nyx cynically retorts, (I’m not allowed to notice that you’re actually showing any form of compassion for once?)

That’s…

Actually, not a bad point I guess.

(See? Exactly.)

Sure. But that still doesn’t help me fix her. I’m pretty sure that Wave of Restoration won’t work on soul damage…

…

Although the words of creation would, though I’m still not completely sure how to do it without winding up in a coma myself…

Probably still worth it, to be honest. I sacrificed myself so she’d be able to live before, and this wouldn’t be much different.

But she’d still cry.

I quietly sigh, watching the glittery powder drift aimlessly about the room.

I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?

There are at least new things to try with it… or, a new thing anyway. Astraea told-I mean, I told them-I mean, I told myself that I just need to… they need to…

Ugh. My head hurts.

(Conflicting memories?)

Yeah. I still have the jist of the conversation, but thinking too much about it just makes it painful, it all runs together.

(It’s not surprising.)

Not really, no. I should have expected this.

But I don’t have time for this, my wife’s breathing sounds like it’s getting wetter and that can’t be a good sign.

I told myself I needed to fuel it with my own divinity, instead of the Record’s.

And that makes sense… the gods of old gave up this power to the Record in order to be governed by it, in a sense, so using this power without fueling it would default to the primary source of its control… I think. That almost makes sense.

But either way, I have plenty of the stuff myself just from glancing at the dancing colors that flood through and around my body.

So I snatch a small piece of it, and… well. This is the part I don’t really understand. Do I just… pull a piece loose and…

You know what, I’m probably overthinking this. No, I’m definitely overthinking this. Everything else is just based on focus and will! Focus on this and gain a Skill, will this to happen and it just does! I’m a literal god, it’s that simple or at least should be!

So I pull a small piece of my divinity loose and focus on my ailing wife before weaving together a few of the words of creation.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

…Apparently in some kind of garbled language I don’t recognize…?

(I don’t recognize it either, don’t worry.)

Well, I’m not worrying… because I’m watching my wife’s wounds knitting themselves back together before my eyes… and then they suddenly stop. Why? Shouldn’t this-oh. That little bubble of divinity wasn’t enough apparently…

Why didn’t I figure this out sooner? Probably because I couldn’t actually see divinity, and it never really registered to me as a resource. Where does it even come from anyway? Do gods just generate it?

(Prayers and devotion.)

Oh. Obviously.

…And in hindsight, I knew that already. Huh.

While I mull over a number of things, I channel even more of my divinity into restoring Olive’s… Artemis’ body, and not much time passes before I’ve already finished. Her wet wheezing has settled into quiet breathing, and the pained look on her face is only a memory.

A memory I don’t want.

Even her eyes have regained their color, although she’s clearly having some amount of difficulty seeing considering how she’s deliriously glancing around the room. Or maybe she’s just confused.

“It’s alright,” I say quietly, carefully cradling her freshly mended body against me. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave, not again.”

She mumbles unintelligibly into my chest for a while, occasionally mixed with choking sobs, although I don’t miss one word she’s repeated a few times.

‘Vona.’

Which she would.

It’s my name. Or, was. Ravona.

I was Ravona. Or, Astraea was I guess.

…

Not much longer passes before she manages to fall asleep against me, and I’m not exactly of a mind to resist, so I pull the furs up around us and lay down.

Rest actually does sound good right now. Maybe even desirable.

I’m incredibly tired for some reason, after all.

***

Julis and the others certainly seem surprised to see me, probably because of my new reputation as a battlefield horror that neglects their wife, but I’ll repeat what I’d told Nyx…

Actions speak much louder, and I have eternity to act.

And act I shall.

But for now, that action is going to be limited to trying to be a supportive wife, considering my formerly-injured fox is still recovering… at least her soul is. I did a lot more damage to that than her body, even though her body itself wasn’t healing through normal divine means. I assume that has to do with how it was eaten, and how the divinity holding her together was stripped away there.

I get the impression that whatever I am, I’ve specifically evolved to eat gods or at least divinity itself.

And if I exist, there are probably more like me. I can’t help but shiver a little at the thought.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Arty has been clinging to me since I got here, even in the dining room or bath.

Maybe because it’s just been so, so long.

A millennium and a half, almost.

Poor girl. I absentmindedly scratch behind her ears and she lets out a quiet purr in response.

This whole mess did at least illustrate something for me.

I was right.

All those centuries ago…

I was right. I wouldn’t have just killed her; I’d have obliterated her from existence entirely.

I don’t want that. I was right to tell her to stay, tell her I’d be right back, even if I knew I wouldn’t be.

I know I had to lie to her.

And I’m pretty sure she knew, considering she was my System Assistant and even now effortlessly reads my thoughts.

She lets out something between a chuff and sigh. Yeah, clear enough.

And even then, she held on to hope that I actually would find a way to come back. Loyal has always described her well.

I’ll never fault her for that.

…

“Where is Izahne, anyway? I think you… That was her, wasn’t it? When I uh, ate all those gods, I guess…”

“Yes,” is all she says, still burying her face in my chest.

“Yes, what?”

“Gods. Other one. Was.”

“Ah, I see.”

…

I also see that she’s conspicuously left one of my questions unanswered.

…

…

“And? Where is she, Livvie?”

I still feel a little awkward calling her that, but at the same time… it feels right. It’s what I should be calling her, I think.

Maybe.

Sadness with a touch of hopelessness touches me through our bond, as well as a little bit of jealousy.

“I’m not trying to replace you or take time away from you, dear. I just need to make sure she’s alright, she probably needs me the same way you did, considering… everything I did.”

She lets out a small sigh and gives me another squeeze before we both vanish in her trademark burst of flames, reappearing in what looks like another part of the treehouse…

In front of a door in another hallway carved in the heartwood. It’s not marked, just another plain, nondescript door alongside a series of others.

Artemis quietly lets go of me, walking gingerly to the entryway and knocks quietly before opening it.

And sure enough, there she is.

My other wife. Even with her skin noticeably darker than before and her hair cut short to almost nothing, she’s recognizable.

Ceto was out of his mind, clearly. She’s not remotely ‘homely’ or whatever he called her.

…

“I killed Ceto, didn’t I? Was that him?”

My fox wife silently nods.

“I see.”

I turn my attention back to my second first wife, silently sitting on the floor in the small room containing nothing but a bed and a small table. At first I’m surprised by the lack of hospitality, but…

She’s not present.

My Izzy is just sitting on the floor, staring emptily into the distance. I experimentally nudge our bond, but while it does cause her to immediately look at me, she shows no other reaction.

…

I have no idea what to do with this.

So I just sit down on the floor next to her and pull her close… which makes her start shivering uncontrollably.

Ah, and she’s crying, at least a little.

But the emotion she’s radiating now isn’t sadness, or even happiness, since people sometimes cry when they’re happy enough too…

No.

Fear.

It’s fear.

Even apparently lacking her cognitive function, she’s terrified of me. I scared her that badly.

…

Maybe at one time I would have tried to push the issue and stayed, but I know that’s not going to help. Thanks to Astraea’s insight and experience, anyway…

It’s not like I haven’t had a terrified subordinate before. I just need to take my time and let my Charm Skills do the work, she’ll come around on her…

Her…

Charm Skills?

I have Charm Skills? Since when?

(Is that what you’ve been doing to my head? A fucking Charm Skill!?)

Yeah, this probably won’t end well.