KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

Molten gold burned beneath Ashley's skin. The dead zone she maintained was a bubble of silence paid for in agony. With every beat of her heart, the fractured Covenant pulsed, driving sickly light like a creeping infection across her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. This wasn't power. It was a disease wearing the mask of an ability.

She pressed her back against the cool volcanic stone of the chamber wall, the chill a welcome anchor in the storm of her own making. In the supernatural silence she had carved from reality, Xavier, Naomi, and Margaret huddled, their whispers swallowed by her agony. The golden fractures throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, each beat a small agony that she swallowed without complaint.

"Six days," Xavier said, his voice carrying that new edge she'd noticed since his encounter with the Knight. "The Masquerade is our deadline. After that, Calypso gets announced as Haverford's bride, and whatever window we have closes permanently."

Margaret pulled a hand-drawn map from beneath her healer's robes, spreading it across Ashley's bedside table. Her blue-threaded hair caught the crystal lighting as she traced corridors with her finger. "The Sealed Archives are here, three levels down from the main temple. The entrance is warded with blood magic keyed to the Flameheart bloodline, but there's a service passage that connects to the volcanic vents."

"Guard rotations?" Xavier asked.

"The main entrance has two acolytes, always," Margaret whispered, tracing the map. "They swap at the fourth bell like clockwork. But the service passage... Brother Marcus says they only glance at it once a night, around the third. He was so happy to help me with my 'research'..."

Naomi shifted in her servant's clothing, purple hair tucked beneath a plain cap. "The third bell gives us maybe twenty minutes before someone notices the guards aren't reporting. Not enough time to search through years of records."

"We don't need years," Xavier said. "We need information about the First Anointing and whatever Torval's been researching since his sister died. Margaret found evidence of consciousness displacement rituals—"

"Which means someone's been planning this for years," Ashley interrupted, then immediately regretted speaking as the effort sent fresh fire through her fractures. "The original Lady Selene didn't just die. She was... displaced. Prepared for something."

The dead zone flickered as her concentration wavered. Ashley bit down on her tongue, tasting copper as she forced the interference field back to stability. Blood magic and pain—apparently those were her new specialties.

"Question is whether that preparation was for Calypso specifically or if she just got caught in something bigger," Naomi said, studying Ashley's deteriorating condition. "Either way, the archives are our only shot at answers."

"The magical wards are the real problem," Margaret continued. "Even if we bypass the guards, the archives themselves are protected by detection spells that alert the High Burner to any unauthorized presence."

Xavier's eyes found Ashley's across the small chamber.

"Your interference ability," he said quietly. "Could it mask our presence from the detection spells?"

Ashley had been expecting this. Had known from the moment they started planning that her broken Covenant would become the lynchpin of whatever desperate scheme they devised. The golden fractures pulsed brighter, as if responding to the attention.

"Maybe," she said. "The interference field disrupts magical detection, but sustaining it while moving through the archives..." Her words fell into the unnatural silence, each one a stone dropping into a deep well.

Extending it throughout an entire infiltration might kill her.

"There has to be another way," Margaret said, concern creeping into her voice. "Ashley's already pushing her limits just holding the field now."

"What other way?" Naomi asked. "We don't have infinite options here. We're prisoners playing at being guests, and time's running out. If Ashley's ability gives us access to the archives, then that's what we use."

"Easy for you to say," Ashley shot back. "You're not the one bleeding light."

Naomi met her gaze, her expression unyielding. "My sacrifices are just less visible than yours, Ashley. At least your pain has a purpose. We use it, or we lose everything. The choice is that simple."

"Enough," Xavier's voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a weight that simply crushed their argument, leaving silence in its wake. "Ashley isn't a resource to be debated. She's the key. The question isn't if we do this, but how we do it without breaking her."

The golden fractures along Ashley's throat pulsed as she swallowed her initial response. Xavier was right—this wasn't about who was willing to sacrifice what. It was about survival and answers and the rapidly closing window of opportunity.

"The interference field has a range of about fifteen meters," Ashley said, forcing clinical assessment into her voice. "I can extend it to twenty, maybe twenty-five if I push, but that's my limit. The archives are larger than that."

"Then we split up," Xavier decided. "Margaret and Naomi search the research materials while I handle any security we encounter. Ashley maintains the interference around the entrance and as much of the archive as possible."

"What about the service tunnels?" Margaret asked. "If someone comes through there while we're inside—"

"I'll handle it," Naomi said. "I know the temple's servant schedules better than anyone now. I can create distractions, redirect people if necessary."

Xavier nodded, but Ashley caught the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drummed against his thigh.

"There's something else," he said after a moment. "The Knight's mark... it shows me patterns. Weaknesses in systems. The temple's security has gaps, but they're not random. Someone's been creating them deliberately."

"What do you mean?" Margaret asked.

"I mean we're not the only ones planning to break into those archives," Xavier replied grimly. "Someone else wants access, and they've been preparing for longer than we have."

The air in the chamber grew heavier. If other forces were moving against the temple, their window of opportunity might be even smaller than they'd thought—or the archives might already be compromised.

"All the more reason to move fast," Naomi said. "Three days from now, during evening prayers. The temple will be focused on the ceremonies, and we'll have the longest gap between guard rotations."

The silence in the room stuttered. The hum in Ashley's bones faltered, and a wave of vertigo washed over her. She gripped the sheets, the fabric cool against her burning skin, fighting to keep the world from tilting on its axis.

"I'll need time to prepare," she said, hating how weak her voice sounded. "The interference field... I'll have to modify it. Make it more stable for extended use."

"How?" Xavier asked.

Ashley met his gaze, seeing her own understanding reflected there. They both knew what she was really saying.

"The fractures feed. To make the field stronger, more stable... I need to give them more to eat."

Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but caught Naomi's gaze. The words died on Margaret's tongue.

"Can you do it?" Naomi asked, and there was no judgment in the question—only cold assessment of their chances.

"I can do it," she said. "I'll make sure I can do it."

The dead zone flickered one final time before Ashley let it collapse, the sudden return of ambient sound hitting them. Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and they scattered with practiced efficiency—Margaret slipping out first to check for observers, Naomi gathering her cleaning supplies, Xavier moving to the window as if he'd simply been admiring the view.

Ashley remained in bed, pulling the covers up to hide the worst of the golden fractures while fighting off the nausea that always followed extended use of her ability.

In three days, she would push herself further than ever before, possibly past the point of no return.