I have studied Divinity extensively. Every theory written I can list off the top of my. From Foundational Theory to Perpetual Decline to Forced Evolution. I even am aware of personal thinkings of types such as Anassa, with her Divine Exceptionalism and Irinika, who seeks to embody what Arascus calls the Syndrome of Malicious Demesne. There are countless ideas about what make us, yet two universal truths are known and undisputed: Firstly, One Demesne; One Divine. Secondly, mass consciousness being building blocks.
As has been said before in this text, it is not that I am some paragon of morality. I tried not to use negative propaganda in the first point of the war. That tactic ended after only a year and a half into the conflict. To attempt to counter Malam’s propaganda war using only positive mentality proved to be an impossibility. Maisara, Allasaria, Leona and Fortia all came to me to try and wipe away my doubts regarding the consequences of such a move. I could say that they convinced me, I could say that it did not matter, because we ended up winning, I could say that because all things turned out well, I should not worry.
Well I do worry. I do worry indeed!
I don’t understand why the others did not realise what the consequences of such actions would be.
- From the autobiography “Roses, Blades & Blood”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love.
Fortia sat and stared into her fireplace. She could not move. She could not dress herself. She could not crawl out from under her blanket. She could not cry anymore. She only stared into her fireplace. The Goddess of Peace, her face framed by gold-bronze hair, shivered and hugged herself tighter. To lose someone like this was… well, incredible was the last word Fortia would use to describe it, but incredible is what it was. Fortia sat on her couch as she stared into the flames that cracked the logs and still could not believe what had happened.
This moment had to come eventually. Fortia and Maisara had both cheated death far too many times already. They had both lived through the nightmare that was the Age of Heroes, when humanity had stopped kneeling before divinity. They had both lived through Worldbreaking, which had seen the continent of today be formed. Irinika and Allasaria’s Black and White war along with Fer’s Incursions from the east. The Great War. Pantheon Peace. Fortia knew that the good times simply could not last forever.
Yet not once did she think that Maisara would die. It should have not happened, and if it were to happen, then it should be Maisara sacrificing herself for the good of all humanity. It should be the stars crashing down upon this world and Maisara standing firm to block them with her own form. It should be Arascus about to strike Fortia, and then Maisara striding in to take the blow. If Maisara were to die, then it should be heroic. Fortia felt tears run down her cheeks again as she hugged her own knees. Maisara should not have died just because Fortia was too cowardly to stand against Neneria.
A thousand different thoughts and memories ran through Fortia’s mind. She did not care what was going on with Arascus anymore. Allasaria could come and bring all Paraideisius and then strike Fortia down and she would not care frankly. It would be a good death. The Goddess of Peace remembered when her and Maisara had first met. How they had said nothing and simply stared at each other. The connection was immediate. It was Order and Peace after all, how could Order and Peace not like each other? Fortia had made an effort to make sure that Maisara grew to like her.
Fortia could not even smile to herself as she thought of Maisara. She simply stared into those roaring flames of the stone fireplace. Her eyes focused wholly on the smouldering wood that slowly twisted and darkened and cracked as the flames lapped at it. She tried to think of Maisara’s rare smiles. She tried to think of Maisara resting her head on Fortia’s shoulder. She tried to think of their own rants about Allasaria. She tried to imagine what would have happened if they had never gone to talk with Kassandora. Pantheon Peace could have… Fortia’s mind trailed away from the fantasy scenario. Who even cared at this point? Did it matter? There was only one thought in Fortia’s mind that managed to have any sort of permanence to it.
It should have been Fortia and not Maisara.
A knock on the door interrupted the mental self-torture the Goddess was putting herself through. Fortia didn’t know who it could even be at this point. She was so lost in her own thoughts her mind had not even registered whether the knocks were the weak taps of humans at her door or the powerful drumming of Divinity. “Come in.” Fortia shouted.
The door swung open.
Fortia did not look away from the flames.
Someone came into the room. The footsteps were loud.
Fortia did not look away from the flames.
Someone came to a stop. The door swung shut.
Fortia did not look away from the flames.
Someone did not move.
Fortia could not look away from the flames.
Fortia caught her breath. She had to say something. She didn’t what to say. Why did someone come into her room? Was it a White Pantheon member? Who even cared at this point? Arascus had won for now, and Allasaria would win when she returned with Paraideisius. This was not Fortia’s story to be part of anymore. She did not care. Let them fight. This was going to be the Second Great War and the Goddess of Peace would sit it out.
The Goddess of Peace pulled her cloak tighter. She did not care about the fact her gold-bronze hair was falling in front of her eyes or the fact she was naked under the blanket. If this newcomer would not say anything, then Fortia would not around. Frankly, she hoped it was an assassin who had come to stab her in the back in this dark room. It was what she deserved for leaving her only friend behind.
Someone sat down next to Fortia. It was a weight Fortia recognised instantly. The way the pillows on the dark couch moved. The deep breathing. The traces of silver hair in Fortia’s vision. The fact the newcomer leaned her head on Fortia’s shoulder. The fact Fortia automatically returned the favour by leaning her cheek on the head that rested on her shoulder. Maisara spoke in her deep voice. “I’m sorry.”
For once in her damn life, Fortia accepted the situation as it was. She did not care if this was a shapeshifter or if it was her own insanity. She was simply glad that she could get one final moment with Maisara. The flames looked brighter for a moment. Fortia knew she should have something to say, but what was there to say? Maisara knew her and Maisara would not want massive explanations anyway. Fortia said exactly what she was feeling. “Thank you.”
Fortia sat with her own head resting on Maisara’s, who herself was resting on Fortia’s shoulder. How much time passed? Fortia did not what to say. Preceding this moment, she had roleplayed the situation countless times in her head. She had gone through all the grand speeches she wanted to say until she knew them off by heart. She had thought of what reasoning would make Maisara least hurt. She had tried to think of reasons that Maisara would not hate her for. And now, with Maisara leaning on her shoulder, all of those plans had left Fortia’s mind.
Wait…
Fortia could not look.
Fortia had to look.
Fortia could not look.
Then she had to speak.
And so Fortia spoke. “Is that you?” She didn’t know why she asked the question like that. It was Maisara. Whether insanity or shapeshifter or whatever it was, it was Maisara! And that was that!
“It’s me Fortia.” Maisara replied. Fortia hated that her mind immediately began running through its cautious loops. She simply could not help it, but she thought of what to do if this was a ghost. If it was a phantom. If it was some assassin. And she pushed the thoughts away. It was her own insanity that had brought about a visage of her friend to allow her to move on.
“I’m sorry.” Fortia said.
“I’m more sorry.” Maisara said.
“I did not come to you.”
“Neither did I.” Fortia smiled to herself as she threw her blanket around Maisara. And she finally felt reality. Maisara had never been too prudish herself, but likewise she had never been one that had been too open with the concept of the body. Now, as Fortia sat nude under that dark fabric, Maisara pulled away. The Goddess of Order contained herself quickly, but the flinch back was obvious.
And reality finally slammed down onto Fortia like a giant tidal wave.
“Wait.” Fortia slowly said. “Is that you?”
Maisara did not giggle or laugh or change her tone even an inch. She was not amused or disappointed or angry, she gave the reply as she always did. “It’s me.” Fortia sat there as she put her arm would Maisara and tried to feel the woman’s warmth. The Goddess of Order had the exact warmth Fortia always remembered her with. “I’m back.”
“How?” Fortia asked, half-stunned and half in disbelief. Maisara had died at the UNN. Maisara had been killed Neneria. There was no way Maisara could be back. And yet that entirely flat tone was entirely Maisara. There was none other quite like her.
“Neneria captured my soul, I had my soul pushed back into my body. I returned to life.” Maisara said dryly. Fortia sat there for a few moments as she tried to process what she had to heard. She separated further from the Goddess and turned to look at her. It was Maisara exactly as Fortia remembered her, with the silver hair and the cold silver eyes that now reflected the dancing the flames. She was in plain clothes, the sort Maisara always wore. A white shirt and a skirt, it was terrifyingly similar to how Fortia remembered her. The Goddess of Order turned to face Fortia. “I mean it Fortia. I died but I am dead no longer. That is how it is.”
“If things were different.” Fortia repeated Maisara’s mantra. The other woman finished it.
“Things would not be the same.” Maisara said with a sad smile.
“You’re alive.”
“I am alive.” Fortia blinked as the words repeated in her head. She could not believe it on one hand. Maisara had died and people did not come back from the dead. Yet this was Maisara, it definitely was. The woman before her had the exact same definite way of talking. Yet Maisara had died. But who was this if it was not Maisara? Maisara had died. Yet Maisara was here. Yet she had died. Yet…
Maisara herself must have seen the shock on Fortia’s face. She held out one arm to side. “I am alive Fortia, only I can do this.” The huge executioner’s axe appeared in Maisara’s pale grip. It simply materialized out of nowhere, with no incantation and no flash and no magic. One moment, the axe was missing, in the next, the axe was there. Fortia stared at the weapon for a few moments. Maisara dematerialized it. There was nothing else to say. Only a Divine could conjure up their own Divine weapon. No one but Fortia could wield her own spear. No one but Maisara could wield her own axe.
And the whole world seemed to break down. Whereas before, Fortia struggled to make her points, now Fortia struggled to even form words. Her eyes started to tear up. The Goddess of Order became a blur. Fortia felt her strength leave her. She collapsed forwards. Maisara caught her. Both of the Goddesses wrapped their arms around the other.
The first tear was the single drop that broke the dam and once the dam broke, there was no stopping Fortia’s tears. She had planned endless speeches for this moment. She had rehearsed it. She had… It didn’t matter. None of that mattered. The world or the universe or fate or whatever the grand arbiter of this realm was had decided to give her a second chance. She had abandoned Maisara to death, she had given one of the highest Divines on this world one of the most unglamorous deaths in existence. She had…
Fortia could not even say it. She smelled Maisara’s scent in between being the violent shakes and tears. It was exactly as she remembered it. This was Maisara. This was the friend she had abandoned and she had failed. This was the person she knew most. This was her partner who had stayed a thousand years by her side, they had both spent that millennia under Allasaria’s rabid tyranny. This was not a sister of blood or family, but this was the sister who Fortia knew she could rely on. No matter the time or place or whatever it was.
No apology was enough. No apology could ever be enough. How could one even start? ‘I’m sorry for letting you die?’ It was a humiliation to even say the words. It marked the total and utter failure of someone who called themselves a friend. It removed the right. How could she ever say she stood by her own friends? Could Maisara ever trust that Fortia would protect her again? Fortia heard Maisara sniffle and pulled away to see her friend’s face. Tears were rolling from those silver eyes, slowly, but the dam was breaking.
Fortia wished her friend didn’t cry. She wished she didn’t cry herself. But she was too weak to stand strong before Maisara right now, just as she had been too weak as when she had abandoned Maisara to her fate. She wrapped her arms Maisara, she said the one thing on her mind. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Maisara replied and Maisara started to cry. For the first time since she got the news of Maisara’s death, Fortia finally smiled.
Her Maisara had returned.