Banished Divinity: Learning to be Human

When we reached land, oh my god, land, solid ground, no more rocking, no more waves, no more Jiyoung and Haejin whispering behind my back, I saw them.

Mum and Dad.

Waiting at the terminal.

Mum's face was pinched with worry, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Dad's face was pinched with... something else. Fear, maybe. Or indigestion. It was hard to tell with Dad. I would lean toward indigestion, as he was holding his stomach like a pregnant woman, his eyes darting nervously.

The moment I stepped off the ferry, Mum rushed toward me, her shoes slapping against the concrete.

"SERA!" She grabbed my shoulders, her grip surprisingly strong. She looked me up and down, her eyes scanning every inch of me. She checked my arms. She checked my legs. She checked my face, turning it left and right like she was examining a piece of fruit at the market, her fingers gentle but insistent.

Then she saw my arm.

The bandage.

The paramedic's handiwork.

The evidence of my battle with the old hag.

Mum's face went through approximately seventeen emotions in two seconds. Shock. Horror. Rage. More rage. Slightly less rage. The kind of rage that could only be directed at one person.

She turned to Dad, her eyes blazing.

"DANIEL!"

Dad flinched, his shoulders hunching instinctively. "Yes, dear?"

"EARLIER. THE MESSAGES. ABOUT THE NATIONAL GUARD. ABOUT THE PRESIDENT." Mum's voice was sharp, each word punctuated with fury.

"Yes, dear?" Dad's voice was cautious, his hands raised in surrender.

"YOU SAID I WAS OVERREACTING." Mum jabbed a finger at him.

"I said no such thing. I said the national guard might be busy." Dad's voice was calm, almost placating.

"YOU SAID THE PRESIDENT HAD MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO!" Mum's voice cracked with indignation.

"The president does have more important things to do, dear. He runs a country." Dad shrugged helplessly.

"OUR DAUGHTER'S ARM IS BANDAGED!" Mum gestured wildly at my arm.

"Our daughter's arm is bandaged because she used her blood to kill an old hag. That's not a national emergency. That's a Tuesday." Dad's voice was flat, matter-of-fact.

This was fascinating. I was beginning to understand that humans had a remarkable ability to argue about completely different things while somehow having the same conversation. Observation #540: Married couples often argue without making logical points. Somehow, they still understand each other.

Mum stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Dad stared back, his expression carefully neutral.

The silence was terrifying.

Then Mum's shoulders sagged. Just a little.

The anger vanished.

The fear remained.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. Her body trembled against mine.

"Thank goodness my baby is fine," she said into my hair, her voice muffled but fierce. "Thank goodness. Thank goodness."

I stood there, stiff as a board, while my mother squeezed the life out of me. It was different from Minjae's hug. His had been warm, yes, but there had been something else underneath it, something electric and confusing and entirely unfamiliar. This was different. This was safe. This was a warm, fuzzy feeling that wrapped around me like a blanket, the feeling of being treated like a beautiful jewel, something precious and fragile and worth protecting.

Is this what love from a human mother feels like? I thought, my heart swelling with something I couldn't quite name.

I had faced demons across millions of dimensions. Met many beings across them and I had never felt anything quite like this.

"I am fine," I said, my voice flat. "I am a celestial being. I am capable of not dying."

"That's what you said in the text message." Mum sobbed while still holding onto me, her shoulders shaking.

"You read my replies?" I was shocked, my eyes widening.

Mum pulled back and looked at me. Her eyes were wet. Her nose was running. She was a mess.

"Don't do that again," she said, her voice firm despite the tears.

"Do what again? Kill an old hag?" I tilted my head.

"Get hurt." She cupped my face in her hands.

"I cannot promise that. I am a warrior. Warriors get hurt." I met her gaze steadily.

"Then be a warrior who doesn't get hurt," Mum said, her voice softening.

"That's not how being a warrior works, Mum." I sighed.

"Then change how being a warrior works." She smiled through her tears.

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open.

"That's... actually very logical," I said, blinking.

"I am a mum. I have my moments." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Now let's go home."

Mum hugged me as I walked beside her, her arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.