A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

"Dut! Dah dut! Duh dut, dut DAH!" Menelyn was still singing along, under Her breath. "Buh-dahduh-duhduh-dahduh-dut-dut-DAH-dut-dut-DAHHH!"

All of Kennalaria's songs were just so catchy! She couldn't help it!

When first entering the Temple of the Stars, 1677 years ago, Menelyn could not have possibly imagined that She would bring Her Daughter here, for the first time, 940 years later. And She could not have imagined then that, in another 737 years, She would watch that Daughter put on a show for two young, just-married white mages from another planet. Yet here She was.

Hmm. Was it more remarkable to have the Goddess of Love as your officiant, or the Goddess of Joy as your wedding singer?...Well, in any case, Nyrkatess and Villacqui both seemed to be acutely aware of how extraordinary their wedding was, and grateful.

Kennalaria was nearly finished recounting Her origin story for Her two newest devotees.

"So, basically, I'm power-marked twice!" She summarized.

<And that made You the Goddess of Beauty?> Nyrkatess' tone evoked a model student, hunched over her desk, scrupulously filling stacks of notebooks. <You were a sublime ideal from birth, then transcended beyond sublime?>

Izena nodded approvingly. "So much wisdom, in one so young. Such geniuses are never appreciated by their contemporaries, are they?" She mused, quietly enough not to disturb the other conversation. "I knew I could count on Zyriko to scout new talent."

That earned an eye-roll.

Fortunately, Kennalaria had, mm, considerable experience with comments like Nyrkatess'. She laughed it off.

"That's most of it! But being ultraviolet doesn't hurt!"

"No, it certainly does not," Izena concurred.

Menelyn nodded Her Own agreement. Kennalaria still looked fundamentally like a not-stunted clone of Her, in terms of facial structure and so forth, but Menelyn's hair didn't ripple, and She couldn't stand effortlessly on the tips of Her toes, and light came from Her, not through Her--the list went on.

"I know what you're wondering!" Kennalaria chimed. In fact, it was likely that She had foreseen a question. "Why does power-marking make Us so glamorous, when it so often has exactly the opposite effect on others?! The answer starts with an important fact that your world has not yet understood: power contains an imprint of what makes you who you are--call it the soul. That is why everyone's manifested power has a unique appearance. Then, in a power-marked person, power imprints itself--and therefore, the soul--onto the body."

Kennalaria pointed to Her swimsuit--the unanimous favorite--then to Her equally sparkly hair.

"The connection is easy to see, for Me and Suri, but the way that the imprint alters the body is not always so simple. My Mother Mennie's power looks like pure sunlight condensed into a liquid, but you'll see soon that Her eyes are very pale blue--the same blue in My eyes, actually." Kennalaria leaned in toward Izenakee, mocking the concept of weight with Her precarious toe-tip pose, and pointed a finger at each of Her irises. "But Her hair looks like strands of literal silver. Probably, if She weren't power-marked, She would have had a deeper shade of blue in Her eyes, and platinum blonde hair, just like Her mother, My grandmother."

Some memories stayed painful, even after ten millennia. Menelyn tried not to grimace.

Mama had been small for a grown-up, probably about the same size as her granddaughter. To little Menelyn, she had been the Goddess of Beauty. How had she met Daddy? What would their lives have been like, without the war? Menelyn would never know.

But somehow, She found Herself smiling.

It was just so pleasant, to imagine Villacqui's parents meeting Hers, right now, and everyone beginning to watch together.

In the meantime, Kennalaria had started bouncing on the balls of Her feet, with Her hands clenched into fists near Her shoulders. The cause revealed itself a moment later.

<If my Villacqui became power-marked-->

Joy Herself couldn't wait for Nyrkatess to finish. Her answer burst forth at a pace that not even Her Own Mother could follow in real time.

"Her hair could stay black but it depends on what her soul looks like but if it's like liquid diamond and I bet it is then adding clear glittery power-marking to super glossy black might make glittery black--so pretty!"

Menelyn was still catching up when Villacqui replied--this young white mage may not currently have much of a pool, but she did have quite a superpower, nevertheless.

<...I could be glittery?> Even mentally, Villacqui spoke with hushed awe, afraid to believe what she had heard.

"Why not?! You love putting on a show just like Me and you're proud of how good you look and your wife does say she cut a perfect gemstone but We won't know for sure until you can manifest enough power to see it--I can't wait!"

Nyrkatess was conspicuously silent. Had she short-circuited? Or perhaps she was stuck in a fantasy? Whatever the cause, it was probably the current primary source of Izenakee's giggles.

<When You said that Nyrkatess can refine her soul into moonlight, did You literally mean that her manifested power would change to look like moonlight, the way Your Mother's looks like sunlight?> Villacqui asked.

"That is exactly what I mean." Warned by Her foresight, Kennalaria had already smothered the Goddess of Joy, for a serious discussion. "It's time for Me to keep My promise to tell you how she can make that change. You told Nyrkatess that you believe 'a real Goddess answers prayers,' and the only thing she is missing is a broader sense of generosity. As I said, you have the right idea. Do you understand, based on what you have just learned, why Nyrkatess' soul currently looks like liquid ivory?"

<She carved the most beautiful, luxurious life for me that she could, without worrying about where the ingredients came from, or about anybody else,> Villacqui answered swiftly.

Kennalaria nodded, sending a new round of ripples through Her hair.

"And what about the Moon?" She asked. "How is it different?"

<The Moon is equally beautiful for everyone, no matter how wealthy or poor, or glamorous or...or ordinary...it shines...>

Villacqui trailed off, because Kennalaria's smile was making even Her Mothers' heart flutter. This must be 'the quintessence of dazzling,' as Nyrkatess would put it, the most breathtaking sight possible.

...Seriously, no exaggeration. The power of the Goddess of Beauty was not to be underestimated.

"Your wife is right, Nyrkatess," Kennalaria affirmed. "The way to refine your raw ivory into the shimmering, pearly moonlight it was always meant to be is to prove that you truly are Who Villacqui thinks you are: a perfectly kind and generous Goddess, for everyone. Can you help anyone who needs help, with no expectation of reward? Can you oppose all tragedies, and anything that would cause them, every day for eternity?"

<As long as Villacqui can be special,> Nyrkatess said.

Izenakee snickered.

"The dark side of the Moon certainly seems special to the bright side. Everyone else can only admire, never touch," She pointed out. "Suri and Zyriko will always be there to guide you. Be sure to follow Their example. Now, it's time for you to meet Twilight's Mothers. Remember, Izena shares Menelyn's body."

Once Nyrkatess and Villacqui were prepared, Izenakee turned toward Her elder Sisters.

Izena waved Their left hand, and Menelyn waved the right.

"Hello, young ladies," Izena said. "I am Izena."

"And I'm Menelyn," Menelyn added.

There was only silence, and Menelyn had some idea as to the cause. She heard the hush whenever She spoke, just like everyone else did. She knew how spectacular the glow was, and the voice effects, and all the rest.

Many thousands of years ago, Menelyn had concluded that the reason She was so often 'mistaken' for a Goddess was because She was, in fact, a Goddess. In more recent millennia, even people who knew better, like Nyrkatess and Villacqui now did, kept mistaking Her for the Creator. It was enough to give Her pause.

Fortunately, Menelyn the Almost-Certainly-Not-Creator knew the secret to making this particular pair feel more at ease. She turned Her hand around, to show Her nails.

"It's a pleasure to meet a fellow appreciator of the virtues of black." That said, Izena's Void was the exact opposite of glossy.

Noticing what Her Sister was up to, Izenakee mentally shared an image of Nyrkatess in her slip. Menelyn's usual taste was more conservative, and She would feel a little underdressed, but a simple change of clothing was a small price to pay.

After finishing the restyling, Menelyn did Her best interpretation of one of Kennalaria's sassy fashion poses.

It worked.

<Villacqui,> Nyrkatess said, ostensibly calm. <Every night, I am going to stay up as late as I can, and always do my very best to sleep in. Every morning, I need you to wake me up the same way you did today, alright? Can you do that for me? Every morning? Forever?>

<Actually, I would rather like that,> Villacqui readily agreed. <But do try to concentrate! You wanted to ask for help with your shields, remember?>

Oh?

<Concentrate!?> The veneer of calmness had been short-lived. <How?! Look at Her, Villacqui! She cannot be that adorable, and that omnipotent. It's not allowed. It's just not. Oh, Villacquiiiiii

! She dresses in the quintessence of midnight, and Her Daughter is the Goddess of Glamour! It's too much. This is too Perfect. And the divine revelation, too--it's so distracting. How am I supposed to concentrate, Villacqui?! I'm just some pitiful, ignorant mortal.>

At least she wasn't afraid to talk anymore.

"Mooooo-ooooom," Kennalaria sang softly. "I think it might help clear her mind, if You showed her a shield. And remember: We never hide how magical We are!"

True.

Excessive. Extraordinary. Spectacular.

Menelyn began ramping, slowly, to full power. Izena also began filling Her pool, to keep the glow somewhat under control. Even so, this demonstration would bring an early end to night throughout the mainland if They did nothing more. So, drawing a little of Izena's mana, Menelyn completely enclosed Herself, except for Her face.

Once Her pool was filled with all available Light, the Sun Goddess applied the strongest shield to Her Daughter that She was capable of producing. That was capable of being produced.

There was a faint tickling, from the beginnings of mana exhaustion.

Kennalaria inspected Her arms, admiring Her bubble of Protection.

"Could I survive Your biggest boom?!" She wondered.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Izena admitted. "I have never dared to cast at anything remotely close to full strength before. And I normally use mostly white power, but using black would maximize destructiveness."

Menelyn had no idea, either. Normally, a skilled white mage's full-power, single-target shield at short range would be impenetrable for a skilled black mage of equal strength, but there was no reason to expect that the rule should remain true across many orders of magnitude.

<Nyrkatess?> Villacqui checked on her wife. <I think She might, potentially, maybe be able to help you with your shields.>

There was silence again, and again, Menelyn could guess the cause.

"You are not a waste of My time," She insisted, releasing the shield. "We all have Our strengths and weaknesses. At your age, I could not have made any flowers nearly so wonderful as yours."

Kennalaria nodded rapidly; a reply was coming. Menelyn waited for it.

<...My shields...just fail, usually,> Nyrkatess confessed. <On everything. Even if they don't, they're unstable. I don't know why.>

Ah.

"Shields are very sensitive to the smoothness of power flow," Menelyn explained. "If you do not manage the flow carefully, shields can suddenly fail. The bigger the shield, the more sensitive it is to small problems with flow smoothness." Menelyn was getting frustrated. "I know that telling you 'just make your flow smoother' is not very helpful. The problem is that the languages of your world lack precise technical vocabulary. Izenakee will inscribe Our Language into you, if you wish to learn, so that I can teach you properly. Unfortunately, if she's interested, Villacqui will need to learn Our Language the hard way."

<Villacqui's good with languages!> Nyrkatess gushed. <I know the big ones, but she's incredible!>

And she called Menelyn adorable!

"So I hear! First, We should discuss your path to immortality."

<I'm here to learn!> Nyrkatess declared. <It's what I've wanted, for as long as I can remember!>

"If I didn't know that you truly want it, We wouldn't be discussing it," Menelyn assured her. "And that's for a very simple reason. Currently, Kennalaria spends about one third of every day suffering through a close analogue of the process that you--Nyrkatess, not Villacqui--will need to undergo. That is the most that I will allow Her to do, because to live a life filled with more pain than that is unhealthy. It's insanity."

Menelyn sighed.

"But I am a realist," She continued. "I know that you will want to go as quickly as possible, and that is your right--it's your own power, and your own pain. So, I will simply tell you what you need to know. First, I am the only One of Us, so far, Who is intrinsically, irreversibly immortal. If you choose this path, you will become the second. For you and Me, the mechanism of immortality is very simple: a sufficiently large white vessel halts aging. So, expand your vessel enough, and you will become immortal. Your world hasn't discovered vessel expansion for, I think, two reasons. The core reason is that it's only efficient for white vessels around the size of yours, and larger, and it takes years to show noticeable results, while being very painful from the start. If this were the only reason, I think the technique would still have been discovered, eventually, but there is a second reason: the bigots of your world are, in fact, closed-minded bigots. Their ideology asserts that a person's 'divinity' is entirely determined by how 'illustrious' their ancestry is. The idea that the size of a vessel might not be entirely determined by the circumstances of birth is subversive."

<They are so clueless,> Nyrkatess vented. <I know I'm naïve, but I don't think pain will change my mind. Suri told me that the timeline depends on me--is it based on how much pain I can endure?>

"Yes. I can give you an idea of the fastest possible timeline, based on My Own experience. I was born very slightly stronger than Zyriko. At the age of twenty, I began spending about five sixths of every day increasing the size of My vessel, and sleeping otherwise. My aging soon slowed, and froze entirely within about ten years, so long as I kept My vessel filled at every waking moment. Between powering Villacqui's immortality and using your power to help other people, you will not always be able to keep your vessel filled, so your timeline will be a little slower than Mine. Additionally, you will need to catch up to where I started. So, to reach immortality as quickly as possible, for both yourself and Villacqui, you will need to spend every spare moment of every day for at least fifteen years, probably more, in pain that makes it difficult to do anything but lie down and suffer."

<And replicating Mennie's blessing perfectly will not be easy,> Suri added.

"That's also true," Menelyn acknowledged. "The blessing is complex and tedious, but you have demonstrated the necessary aptitude and meticulous attention to detail."

Repairing the blood vessels, and nerves, and all the other tissues wasn't fundamentally any different from keeping the skin and hair and so on in perfect health, only more tedious and draining.

<Villacqui won't suffer?> Nyrkatess checked.

"Not directly. For her, the immortality process would be no more than an enhanced version of the treatments that you already provide her, every day."

Now, there was one last thing that Menelyn needed to make clear, lest Nyrkatess exactly repeat Menelyn's same path of insanity.

"When I started this process, I viewed it as penance for an unforgivable failure. I lived as an ascetic hermit for 943 years, torturing Myself and helping no one. Please, both of you, never allow yourselves to be consumed by guilt. Never throw out those brushes that are so dear to you, even though they are made of ivory. Punishing yourselves, making yourselves miserable, will help no one. If ever you would condemn yourselves for not helping enough, remember that the Goddess of Salvation helped no one for 943 years. You were born into a terrible environment, rejected it, and chose love instead. That is all that matters of your past. What I ask of you, starting now, is never to withdraw from the world, ever again. Engage with it, engage with it in all its corrupted, filthy ugliness, and make it more beautiful one act of compassion at a time. Help those who need help, without expectation of reward. Never hide how magical you are, but do remember that a real Goddess is as much servant as sovereign."