A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

A storm was forming over the ocean, on the southeastern horizon. The Keyic jungle endured frequent and sometimes fearsome tropical wind and rain, but this was a very different kind of storm, one that Zyriko knew well from his childhood: a front rising from the frozen ocean of the far south. Fortunately, the Keyic ship would be safe in port before the wind and waves grew dangerous. Unfortunately, their destination was the literal last place Zyriko wanted to go.

Eyes on the horizon, he stood brooding.

To the west, behind him, the Zyzz domain pulsed with misery, as if the root source of all suffering lay inside, a volcano belching its blackened crimson ooze until the entire world was smothered.

'No,' he reminded himself. 'Almost the entire world.'

Prosperity's Haven was home to around one person in two hundred, partly because of an ongoing, astounding baby boom. The problem was that life remained as bleak as it had ever been for the other one hundred and ninety-nine.

At least the not at all metaphorical Crimson Calderas had seen fit to lie dormant for the last decade, sparing the forsaken people of the Zyzz domain any further hardship. Forsaken by Zyriko himself, in the name of the greater good.

One in two hundred. One hundred and ninety-nine to go.

...Maybe volcanic dormancy was actually worse, net, since cinnabar mining could continue uninterrupted. What a truly forsaken--

<Was that your father?> Suri asked.

Despite being fully aware that his wife was the most powerful mage ever born, Zyriko was impressed--even to eyes as sensitive as Hers, the evidence of his father's spell would have been subtle. Or, no, She would have felt Zyriko's surge of contempt, followed by several minutes of him being distracted; perhaps She had only inferred a likely cause.

<It was him,> Zyriko confirmed. <He had a message for us. My dear parents extend their warmest welcome>--fittingly, cold seeped through the window's glass--<and they promise that You will find Your Zyzz family's hospitality most impressive. My father seems positively giddy about some surprise they've prepared for us.>

The Zyzz Patriarch being giddy was the sort of thing that made a man stare at the horizon and brood.

The door behind Zyriko clicked open and shut, as Suri slipped into the room.

<Wow. Yippee. I cannot wait.>

That deadpan mental monotone managed to get a snort out of Zyriko, despite how humorless he felt. He turned to smile at his wife, but ended up doing a double-take instead.

<Surprise!> She struck a pose that proved Kennalaria's lessons on glamour hadn't been in vain. <Do you think your parents will be pleased?>

For Her first-ever visit to the Zyzz domain, the Universe's most prized daughter-in-law had changed into multilayered robes and a waist-length cape, in the traditional Zyzz style, a style in which no Zyzz had ever managed to approach stylish.

Zyriko had tried. Hard. He distinctly remembered being seventeen, needing to approach the Keyic Heiress while wearing--

<The design was My 'ultra-fabulous, ultra-secret, ultra-violet' birthday present,> the Keyic Heiress told Her husband, pivoting with practiced footwork into a new pose to show him the back. <Twilight really is talented, no? So chic!>

Ah, of course. It was as Zyriko had long suspected: getting something 'chic' yet still recognizable as the Zyzz style required divine intervention. And a Goddess to wear it.

That aside, what had caused his double take was in fact the color: a red that wasn't quite Zyzz crimson, over an orange underlayer.

'Surprise!' indeed.

<I literally can't remember the last time I didn't wear My blue!> Suri pointed to a sunset flower pinned above Her right ear. <Aside from these.>

There was still a lot of blue. Curtain of ringlets. Brows, lashes, irises. Circlet of the Keyic Heiress. Glow.

The red-and-orange Blue Goddess did one last twirl in place, forever redeeming Zyriko's opinion of capes, then tapped Her temple opposite the flower.

'Look deeper,' that meant.

Zyriko did as instructed, went where his wife's mind told him to go, and was transported six-and-a-half years into the past.

A blue vanity.

Everything blue everywhere except for a single vial of red, and the bristles of a once-blue brush.

Mortal fingers.

Suri's memory of painting her nails red, before he arrived. Before she had ever heard anything about a sacred tunic.

<Unless this time counts.> Suri was mentally murmuring. <Remember?>

Duh, but Zyriko was too engrossed to reply.

After a while, the Suri of almost seven years ago finished painting and looked up, studying her reflection in the mirror at the back of her vanity. It was difficult to disentangle the memory's butterflies from what seeing this reflected closeup portrait of his mortal fiancée hatched in Zyriko.

The face in the mirror was unreadable, an image of dispassionate, dignified calm, but it was betrayed by a faint blush.

Then slowly, tentatively, Zyriko's fiancée raised both hands into view, fingers splayed, and the blush deepened until it matched her nails. Nevertheless, that utterly placid expression remained unfazed.

At that point, Zyriko noticed that his wife was pushing through considerable embarrassment to hold Her hands in the same position.

Same blue as always. As every day since that one.

<I tried, but the tunic wouldn't have it,> She explained. <The only paint it allows is My Own mana.>

<You're so incredibly beautiful,> Zyriko blurted.

Even after seven years of not exactly keeping his opinion secret, those words caused a torrent of embarrassed euphoria to rush across the link. And more than a little smug satisfaction, which amplified the embarrassment.

<It's because I feel exactly how much you mean it!> Suri protested. <Ex-act-ly!>

And also, because no matter how many years passed, the Suri who had first put the tunic on would continue to coexist with Her 'present' self, equally vivid.

<And...you see Twilight...> She added. <But you never...But it's only Me...>

She trailed off, but Zyriko could sense that She had something important to say, so he waited silently.

Patiently.

The wind was starting to howl a little. Spray from the sea, growing more choppy, splashed against the window.

<I have a confession,> Suri finally announced. <Nyrkatess freely admits that one of her strongest motives for enduring all the pain and monotony, something she repeats to herself whenever she can't take it anymore, is...you know...'No. Wrinkles.'>

Zyriko smirked at Her spot-on mental mimicry of Nyrkatess' voice and inflection.

<Turning thirty-two...it's had Me thinking...> Suri was uncharacteristically tentative, afraid that Zyriko would disapprove. <Without the tunic, I would look noticeably older. Not old by any means, not worse or better--I'm only saying that there would definitely be a noticeable change by now. Instead, I'm frozen at...whatever I am, almost twenty-six. And...I...>

She sighed aloud, and Zyriko could feel Her preparing for a leap of faith. Eyes like the purest of mountain lakes, mirroring the noon sky, bored into his.

<I'm going to be completely honest, Zyriko: recently, I've found Myself truly understanding how Nyrkatess feels. Sympathizing. And thinking back, it's not really new. It is a fact that I could only seriously consider the idea 'maybe I might really be the Blue Goddess' once I saw My reflection, in that same mirror, after I put the tunic on.>

The link pulsed with sheepishness.

<'Absurdly gorgeous,' I thought. I was embarrassed by it! 'How can I walk around like this?!' But I wanted to be a real Goddess, so badly, someone Who could answer prayers, and...what I saw matched My Own idea of what the Blue Goddess should look like. Even today, I would feel less legitimate if I didn't see this in the mirror.> She gestured at Herself. <It shouldn't matter, but it just does. Same with...not using the toilet, not even farting. And, because of it, all of it, I've been able to...be like Twilight--I have the nerve to dance in mana swimsuits!--and...I just feel so fabulous. It's so much fun!>

Would Kennalaria be ultra-hyper or overload straight to catatonic if Suri shared that sentiment with Her? Hm.

<So, I've found Myself...feeling relieved, that...time's not ticking away. Ten, twenty, even a hundred years from now, doesn't matter, I'll still...you know...I'll still see the same absurdly gorgeous Blue Goddess in the mirror.>

Zyriko took his wife's hands, and blue glows merged.

Her Own concern notwithstanding, Suri was in no danger, none at all, of being corrupted by conceit or shallowness--'see yourself like the Sky Goddess sees you' was a phrase used to encourage a person who was feeling unimportant and disposable. She knew as well as Zyriko that Menelyn Herself consciously tried to match Her Own idea of how Salvation ought to look, move, and speak, and advised that appearances did matter. She had heard 'We never hide how magical We are!' a thousand times, and was perfectly aware that immortality came with a curse in addition to the perks: being forced to choose between detachment and an eternity of funerals. There was no need to insult Her intelligence by reciting any of that same old guidance.

Still, as long as there was a prayer She couldn't answer, nothing would ever stop the Goddess of Fairness from worrying that She was an unworthy hypocrite.

Relentless introspection and neurotic self-criticism were a package deal, but Zyriko had no complaints: he'd had an idea of what he was signing up for, on that bench.

He would do his best.

<Stroll through any village in the liberated territories and it's impossible not to notice that most women Your age are pregnant or nursing. Most who aren't will eventually ask the Fertility Goddess to help. I can't interpret that as anything but a sign of optimism and satisfaction with life. You could even call it relief.>

There was no disagreement from Suri.

<The first waves are toddlers, now. They're the little faces in the crowds surrounding You, everywhere You go. Tens of thousands of little faces. Tens of thousands of names and stories. You know many of them.>

Zyriko paused while Suri perfectly recalled one face, then another, and another, and another. Her stare grew distant--She and all Her Sisters were always on the precipice of lapsing into memories, even when not trying.

It was time for him to make his point.

<None of those little faces has ever known a single second of slavery.>

Soon, those staring eyes turned glassy.

<Do You think their parents would resent You if they knew You're secretly relieved to be ageless?>

Suri didn't answer explicitly, but it wasn't long until Zyriko felt clouds of doubt and guilt scatter in a familiar gust of liberation.

He nodded. <Everyone is relieved that the Sky Goddess looks exactly the same, every day. They'd feel guilty if You didn't want to be what You are.>

One more issue to address.

<Finally, yes, I do remember exactly how you looked when I arrived. At the time, I believed that we were going to live the same mortal lives as anyone, and watch each other turn wrinkly. I was thrilled with the idea, and I am very certain that my opinion of Your beauty would never have changed.>

<I know,> Suri assured him, snapping back to the present. <And I love you for it.>

She glanced down at Herself, dressed in sunset, then re-locked eyes.

<This is an expression of My romantic interest,> Zyriko's wife of nearly seven years admitted. <Otherwise, I'd be wearing blue.>

Her husband smiled. He had a confession of his own.

Doing his best to mimic something his fiancée had done when welcoming him to the Keyic domain, Zyriko pointedly ran his eyes up and down Suri, then met Her stare and swallowed conspicuously.

<Sooooo, everything I said was true, but...making Zyzz robes...do things...I think that miracle is beyond mortals.>

Ah.

Seven years had passed since this very same giggle first sent Zyriko to the sky.

Some things didn't need a sacred tunic to be timeless.

<Dearest husband, I understand that being so terribly smitten has distracted you, but you're leaving your poor wife hanging,> Suri complained, internally quite the opposite of annoyed. <What's the point of being married to a dreamy, empathic God if I need to ask for kisses?!>

If only they weren't about to dock at the source of all misery.