Karrel managed to finish the crossbow a day before the mind mage arrived. Well, to be precise, he finished the enchantments on a crossbow he had bought from an arbalist, as the smith did not have any experience in making ranged weaponry. His client was extremely happy to finally have a magic weapon that fit his fighting style.

Finally, the next day, Isabella knocked on his door, for once not sneaking in. Trader ran to answer, full of anticipation.

When she opened the door, she saw two people. The first was the demoness alchemist. The man behind her was a middle-aged human man wearing long gray robes that instantly outed him as a member of clergy. He had short, dark hair and a well-groomed beard.

Trader was not a fearful woman. She was confident in her magic and her regenerative abilities to the point where she honestly doubted even Isa could actually kill her. Now, though, the symbiote's resolve was shaken. If this man realized what she was, there was a very good chance he would use any means necessary to fulfill his obligation to his god and end her. And theurgists, who drew their magic from a deity rather than personal knowledge, could bring forth a lot of power when they acted on their faith.

He opened his mouth, and the forsaken alien braced herself for a devastating spell.

"Fascinating." He simply said.

"Relax, Trader, and let us in." Isabella urged her.

"I- he's-" the symbiote stammered out before slowly backing off into the house.

They gathered in the kitchen, everyone sitting at the table. The piece of furniture was just big enough to accommodate all four of them.

"I believe introductions are in order." The robed man began. "I am Mitchell Gallian, fifth generation, cleric of Bombasto."

Karrel snickered when he heard the name of the deity. "I'm sorry." He caught himself.

Mitchell smirked and nodded. "They are a relatively new god, I understand if Their word has not reached this city yet."

"Thank you for understanding. My name is Karrel Damorny, seventh generation. I'm a smith and an artificer."

"Pleasure to meet you, mister Karrel. And who might you be?" The cleric looked at Trader, who up until this point was mostly sitting in stunned silence, confused as to why she wasn't a pile of ash yet.

She trembled for a second, then sighed. "Alright, get this over with." She spread her arms in a gesture of surrender.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow.

"A swift death, if you would be so kind."

"I do not intend to kill you." He replied.

"Bullshit. I'm a parasite, and I know for a fact you holy folks can feel that, so you're obviously itching to smite me."

"Ah, that." He chuckled. "Don't worry. While it is true I sensed you are one of the forsaken, and many gods look with scorn at your kind, Bombasto is not one of them."

Trader's eyes widened. She looked at Isabella for confirmation. She could not lie, after all.

"That's correct. Bombasto, the god of change and alchemy, does not discriminate against forsaken. I'm not all that knowledgeable about their doctrine, but I wouldn't bring over someone who'd mean you harm to do a mind diagnosis on you."

The blue-skinned woman sighed with relief. "In that case, pleasure to meet you, cleric Mitchell. My name is Trader Fleshforger, I'm an all-around body mage and I dabble in alchemy. Another reason to spare me?" She muttered the last part to herself.

"Very well, Miss Trader. I've been called here to take a look at your mind and soul. Shall I begin?"

When Trader nodded, he put one hand on her shoulder, and began weaving a spell with the other. His eyes shined for a second, and dimmed almost instantly.

"Huh. Would you mind lowering your resistance?" He asked her.

"Yes, sorry." She flexed a mental muscle.

This time the spell succeeded, Mitchell's eyes glowing as he studied the invisible parts of his patient.

"Your parity is nearly perfect, as expected of a shapeshifter… no damage to your soul… what is that…?"

He cast another spell to focus on a peculiarity within her mind.

"Yes, I was not mistaken. Truly unprecedented."

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Depending on your definition of «wrong», nothing. What's noteworthy, however, is that you seem to have been touched by a god. You have both a blessing and a curse, the latter of which is keeping a part of your mind sealed away." The priest explained.

"Hold on, a god? You're saying a god did this to me?"

"The traces of the divine are unmistakable. Besides, it would have to be at least a demigod to make such a complex and powerful spell. Normally such intensive mind alteration would cripple a mortal beyond normal functioning. And despite your lineage, you still count as a mortal." He confirmed.

"So there is nothing you can do?"

"I didn't say that. There are many layers within the blockade, and I'm able to safely undo at least the first one. The deeper parts are too obscured for any certainty, though."

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"Do it, then." She was eager to at least partially cure her memory loss.

The cleric nodded, and started an incantation. In contrast to how traditional mages made various discordant sounds on such an occasion, every tone corresponding to a different direction the mana was being pulled in, his spell sounded like an actual song. Wordless, yet beautiful. He had a very good baritone.

Trader felt something stir within her brain. New connections appeared between her neurons, as a restriction she just now realized the existence of has been lifted.

[Good job, young one. You broke the first seal.] She heard a voice say in her mind.

[Who are you?] She asked, frowning. "Something's in my head. Or someone." She notified the rest.

[I'm more of a «something» than a «someone».] The voice commented. It sounded like an older man, deep with a vibrating timbre. [For our purposes, you may refer to me as the Archivist.]

"Karrel, I need you to come here. I think it's best if you hear this too."

[By all means, I don't mind.] The Archivist assured her.

She bonded with the smith.

[Alright, Archivist, who or what are you, and why are you in my head?]

[I believe the more pressing question is who are you, young one?]

[Oh, great, he's that kind of guy.] Karrel commented.

[I admit, I was designed with a flair for the dramatic.]

[Okay, then who am I?] Trader asked.

[You, my dear, are an heir to a god.]

[Listen, I'm not in the mood for this back and forth, alright? Just get to the point where you tell us the giant twist that upends my understanding of everything.] Trader has decided that the faster she got whatever revelation she was about to experience, the faster she could start realigning her view on reality.

[Very well. My Mistress has chosen you as one of her heirs when the rest of her pantheon turned on her and killed her. Before they did, she imbued you and the rest of her chosen with a piece of herself and launched you all into different dimensions.]

[Oh, let me guess!] Karrel cut in. [When all of her disciples grow strong enough, they'll join their forces and bring her to life once more.]

[It does sound like something a desperate deity would do.] The Archivist admitted. [The Mistress wasn't that type of person, though. She knew the rest of the gods would not rest until her mind has been annihilated entirely, even of they had to snuff out every star in the sky to achieve this. No, she merely wished that her work would be continued, even if she did not see it come to pass.]

[What was her goal, then?] The apparent heir to a goddess inquired.

[Unfortunately, I cannot say. I only have access to the parts of your mind that have been unsealed, and that information is still locked. However, She wouldn't have chosen you if your goals and hers were opposing each other.]

[Why even lock all this info in the first place?]

[Two reasons. First, knowledge is power, and there is some knowledge sealed away that could be very dangerous if given to you before you are ready. Secondly, to give you additional incentive to improve. The seals cannot be undone until you achieve certain feats.] It explained.

[Are you allowed to tell me what those are?]

[Somewhat. The first seal required merely finding someone capable of mind surgery. The second will unlock after you regain your mastery over body magic. The third requires you to fulfill a great promise. I cannot say what achievements will be required afterwards.]

[This is exactly why I don't bother with divinity. Well, besides the obvious. They always play these games! It can never be straightforward, can it?] Trader complained.

[What great promise?] Karrel asked.

[The conditions are resolved through Trader's mind, therefore anything she would consider «a great promise» is sufficient. Your plan to ascend to nobility would be enough, for example.]

[And there is no cheating the system, because I know when I try to cheat.] She added.

[Correct.]

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"I wonder what they are talking about." Isabella said to Mitchell. Though telepathic conversations were substantially faster than talking out loud, from her perspective Karrel has been sitting still for about a minute now.

"It seems Miss Trader has had a foreign thoughtform implanted. I assume they are gauging whether it's a threat to be removed." Mitchell replied.

Meanwhile, the mental conversation continued.

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[So, the weird habits and curses. What's up with that?] The symbiote inquired.

[They are another way to incentivise progress. The banes are meant to be annoying, so you improve yourself as fast as possible to get rid of them, without being the only thing you think about.] The Archivist explained.

[When do they disappear, then?]

[The Bane of Blood Pressure and the Bane of Paranoia will be lifted with the second seal.]

[Oh great, you gave them pompous names.] Karrel had been steadily losing patience with the thoughtform's antics. In his mind, the overly proper tone couldn't be anything but sarcastic. It didn't seem to him like it treated anything seriously.

[The Bane of the Heathen will end after the fourth seal,] The Archivist ignored him, [and the Bane of the Trader shall be lifted when the fifth and final seal is broken.]

[Explain the last two, please.] Trader requested.

[The Bane of the Heathen prevents divine blessings and forming of contracts with supernatural entities. The Bane of the Trader punishes for helping others without gaining anything in return.]

[Oh, that one. Why is it called the same as me?]

[Your name is not the same as it was in your previous life. Mistress found it best to give each heir a new name, since even when you regain the memories of your earlier incarnation, you will never really be that person again.]

[I'm not going to think about the existential ramifications of that piece of info right now.] Trader decided. [Now that we talked about me and the game your goddess decided to put me in, let's go back to my first question. What are you?]

[I am the Archivist.] It simply stated. Just before Trader or Karrel could yell at it, it continued. [Or rather, I am a copy of a fragment of the previous Archivist's mind. My predecessor was an angel of the Mistress, tasked with managing her records. When the other gods moved to end her, she put a copy of me in every heir's mind to explain their situation and aid them in the trials they would encounter. It is important to state that I am not a person. I do not have desires of my own, I do not possess free will. I simply do as I was designed to do.]

[So you're kind of my assistant.]

[Correct. Do keep in mind my capabilities are limited by the seals, as well as what you personally permit me to do. If you find the idea of a separate thoughtform in your mind unbearable, I can directly connect all information I have to your main mind and shut myself down until I am explicitly called upon.]

[I'd do that if I were you.] Karrel suggested.

[We'll work it out in time.] Trader replied and separated from the smith.

"Alright, here's the deal." She said out loud. "A dead goddess threw me here, so now I gotta run errands for her if I want to learn what exactly happened and who I was."

"What about the thing in your head?" Isabella asked.

"Formerly a fragment of an angel, now my new assistant."

The demon nodded.

"Well, then. It seems I've repaid the favour I owed you." The cleric said, turning to Isabella.

"Indeed." She raised her hand, her eyes glowing red. "Mitchell Gallian, your debt has been paid. You may go free."

A light came from under his robes, and a gust of wind went through the room, despite all windows being closed. He sighed with relief, and stood up from his chair.

"It's been interesting to make your acquaintance, miss Trader. If you're ever in Whiterock, I'd be happy to talk with you more. I tend to the shrine on the north side of the town. I'd love to accommodate you too, mister Karrel." Mitchell bowed his head and turned to leave.

"Oh, and miss Trader," he said before departing, "I wouldn't worry much about murderous clergy anymore if I were you. The touch of divinity on you is apparent to anyone versed in such matters."

With the last bit of reassurance, Mitchell Gallian left.