God of Eyes

I didn't get as much sleep as I probably should have. Given that I'd used sleep as an excuse to leave, and that I was tired, it was kind of a stupid, jerk move, but after resting on my bed for only a few minutes, I quickly discovered that I simply couldn't rest.

With a deadline coming up that I didn't understand, I needed to make darn sure I finished Ciel'ostra's book, so after trying to sleep, and then trying to meditate, I gave up and read through the night. I was already learning quite a bit, but most of it was things that were not immediately applicable. The book went into some depth about creating divine enchantments, but that basically involved condensing a lot of power into a solid construct, with some additional notes on structure and how to combine it with the magic system of the world. With me not exactly being rich in the soulflame department, none of that was relevant now.

I did finally get to a section that mentioned transferring the godly Key from one body to another. More broadly, that section described having multiple bodies and why the original Ciel'ostra considered that a good idea... with a few notes from later versions. The original, in context, believed in having three bodies: the Avatar, the Hag, and the Priestess, with the key held by whichever body was least likely to be attacked. At the time, the Hag resided away from the temple, and so the question was simply whether or not there was a threat to the temple; if so, the Hag held the key, and if not, the Priestess did.

Transferring the key was simple, but it was also a little delicate. It wasn't as though the key would shatter if you dropped it, but it did seem to bruise, and would operate less effectively if you didn't handle it carefully. It shouldn't be exposed to the real world often or for very long, you should not do anything godly at all while it is exposed, and it should always be surrounded by a thin layer of blue flame, even or especially when it is in the Hag body, with all of its hatred-born green flame. Any other flame, she had heard, would affect it over time.

I double checked my own Key after reading that; inside of me, it seemed to gravitate towards remaining in the flame jar, within the blue flame. But having been told that other flames affected it, I could see signs that something was off with it. Most likely, back when I had no flame except gold flame inside of me, having spent everything else that I had... no doubt it had soaked up some of that. The larger question of what that meant had to go unanswered for now; the book offered no insight, and when I asked my godly other self, it didn't understand either. As far as the metaphor that my magic gave me, showing a glowing orb that was my "key" inside of me... there were veins in the orb that I felt were a little bit odd, a little bit off. Perhaps they were not "wrong", and perhaps it was not "damaged"... but a sign that perhaps it was not in perfect health.

That wasn't great, but I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. I considered my key quietly for a while, but it had no information to give me, no intuition or implicit instruction. I suspected Alanna would not know, either, though I hoped she would prove me wrong, when next we talked; perhaps someone in the council of elder gods might know better than her. But, one way or another, it would have to wait.

If I couldn't do anything godly while the key was in between hosts, of course, I had to do it in person, and that meant either summoning my Avatar to me, or vice versa. I chose to have my avatar pull my main body to it, and discovered as soon as I stepped out of my own shadow that the world felt different from each body's point of view. Although my Avatar had spent many lonely days here, my main body soaked the place in as though it were new to me... which, from a certain perspective, I suppose it was? Kind of?

Stopping all godly activity did mean putting a temporary halt to blessings I was giving, which meant that a couple people standing night watch suddenly had their sight go dim for a moment, but the whole operation took less than a minute. It was all part of what the key did, after all; will it out, and it responded. Will it back in with the other body, and it did what it was supposed to. Done, and done. Blessings that had been interrupted were resumed, and I pushed myself back through my shadow and into the tiny locked room in the Temple of Blades.

I discovered a few things immediately after.

First, although I could still probably use flame, it was much harder to do so without the key. This didn't seem to be a problem for the Avatar... or maybe it was, and I had been using the stuff inefficiently because the key was elsewhere? In any event, with the key gone, "Ryan" was no longer godly. I could still order the Avatar to do magic on my behalf, so I suppose calling myself a Vicar was not entirely inappropriate, but it wasn't as simple as just wishing magic into existence, while I was in this body.

As I considered that, I realized that most likely, if I had moved the key to my other body sooner, I might not have survived that battle against the Rakshasa. I'd been able to use my godly abilities almost on instinct, and the difference in speed and power could easily have been the difference between life and death. I shivered as I considered that, but tried not to dwell on it. I would need to fend for myself without the key most of the time from here on out, and dwelling on how weak I was... it could motivate me, perhaps, but it was more likely to depress me.

This section of the book also went into how, exactly, to forswear the use of certain flames; it was how the Hag body was created, after all. With the specific instructions laid out before me, I forswore all use of Black Flame and Blood Flame entirely, for both of my bodies. As expected, I didn't feel any different, because I didn't have either of those flames within me, but I felt better knowing that I wouldn't get exposed to them on accident.

The last important set of instructions regarding multiple bodies was how to handle the personas and mental duties of bodies you weren't directly controlling. As it turned out, you could spent either flame or time and effort to give each body a different persona, making it much easier for you to stay in character and deflect suspicion. I had done that a little already, of course, by giving the Avatar a different voice when talking to Murn via my shadow, but apparently the control I had over it was much greater than I'd expected. All of that meant, as I'd kind of expected, that while Pal'lud and Murn were the same person, they were very different people. If they were in the same room together, they would not sound alike or act alike, and each could act independently, doing things like fidget or look around while the actual self-controlled body was busy--secondary bodies could even talk, but like with prayers, the resulting conversation was lower quality if you weren't controlling it yourself. All neat, all useful later on, but not realy applicable right now.

There were other useful tidbits. There was an extensive section about how to gather soulflame (and how to not, selectively), from battlefields, from temples, from vicars, and in person. Although I didn't see anything specifically like the glyph Alanna had in her temple, there were notes from later goddesses that divine enchantments tended to soak up ambient soulflame to maintain themselves, and that ones for the battlefield had to specifically refuse ash, blood, and black flame or they would become warped. If they accepted green flame, they would maintain themselves just fine, but would become... ugly. One set of notes in particular talked at length about transferring green flame gathered by enchanted items to the hag, while not allowing the items to absorb it themselves. For things like the enchanted swords of truth, which were likely to be despised by others but needed to look regal and official, this was an important function.

There was also a very long section that went into depth about the method used to create the Records of the Fallen. It was clear that what I sensed in the Great Hall wasn't illusion; the Records created a place for the spirits of the fallen, but did not force them to return. If they did choose to return, they could interact with any other Records, and they could rest comfortably, but that was pretty much it... unless the High Priestess summoned them to defend the Temple, which (a later goddess stressed) should only be done when the goddess herself was in jeopardy. Doing so would make the spirits decay, and any spirits that died were simply gone. The goddess should, according to a few notes, remove empty or dying weapons, because they affected the feel of the hall, and their absence upset other spirits.

The upside was that these spirit-possessed weapons were basically instant Vicars for as long as the spirit lasted, which could be hours or weeks. I pursed my lips as I considered that. Obviously it was a sad day when the dead had to sacrifice their very souls to protect the living, but it was also a good end. They proved not only their dedication to the Goddess, but that they were more than mere memory. In return for having been loved not only by the goddess, but by her people, they return for one last battle when it really mattered.

By the number of goddesses who commented in the margins of that section, that had clearly happened a few times. I shook my head sadly, but turned the page and moved on.

There was a section seemingly added in the middle, written by a later goddess about the Council of Gods. The few key pieces there were simple: they were not going to help, they didn't like Ciel'ostra, and they kept watch to make sure she did not absorb Blood or Black Flame, even by accident. They were all ancient, but none of them could accept worship any longer, for one reason or another; some had become "Nameless", others had warped keys, and still others simply hated mankind and refused to work with them.

Among the council was one person that the goddess noted as important: the large muscled man I recalled, who served as the apparently-unofficial judge of the council. Rather than judging by law or rules, however, he would simply speak of a person's worthiness; if they were worthy, they were spared, and if they were unworthy, they were punished, up to and including being killed. Apparently she had been forced to sit in on the trial of another god killed not for his crime, but for refusing to show contrition. That seemed like... a dangerous way to run a council, but then again, the rule of law had its own problems; it was often too lenient or too strict. This all came down to whether or not that one person could be trusted.

Trust was always a concern, but if you did find one person whose judgement could be trusted... after all, gods were immortal, so you wouldn't need to keep finding new ones generation after generation. That was one big reason why a lot of monarchies failed, I thought; one person might be a good leader but a bad parent, and their successor may be absolutely the worst.

There were other sections to the book, in particular long sections of how to deal with people, that for the most part I skimmed over. People especially; Ciel'ostra's flock were a very specific kind of people, and while I accepted that learning to deal with warriors was going to be one of my duties, it wasn't one for right now. There was also a section that discussed whether it was right or wrong to prolong the war, which again had many notes from subsequent goddesses; they agreed, generally, that if they had a chance to end the war peacefully, to do so, but nobody thought it was likely. Belma would not likely win their wars, not with its attitude, culture, and history; losing would make sense, except that the other nations did not recognize Ciel'ostra as a goddess, and so would sack her temples as cults. There was some discussion of spreading her own faith to her enemies, but... it was never serious. Every incarnation of the goddess loved her people too much to betray them; it was likely one of the traits they selected for when passing on the burden.

There was, of course, a very brief selection on what to do if the war did end, with lots of room left over for other goddesses to write. Not much was there.

Then there was the section on Vicars. I was hoping for some great insight... but perhaps I was hoping for a miracle. It was pretty straightforward. Sense their hearts, both Angel and Vicar; know them; do not give power to those you do not trust. Reveal yourself only when you are certain their loyalty is absolute, and give them a position as leader of a temple only if you consider them to both be a worthy leader and subservient to your will, when necessary. If someone tries to take undue power, squash them--as a goddess, not as the priestess or as the hag. Once someone is independently running a temple, keep an eye on them, sometimes publicly and sometimes covertly. Except reports, be respectful, but do not yield so long as you are certain of the truth. Be prepared to trust everything to the one who knows the truth when you do not--all your armies, all your will.

The section that said that left a strange feeling in my heart:

I am not Ciel'ostra the First, but I know this to be true, that no cause will unify your people so much as to rally behind a leader who is not you. For many will follow you as matter of rote, but each and every one of your followers yearns to believe in fate; they yearn that they shall be fated to rise, and they yearn to believe that they may shatter the fate of others. I name this Truth of the highest order: it is not us, but they, who are fit to be legends. For I have risen to be Goddess, known centuries of war, and still seen my record as warrior eclipsed by many, yet twice in my long life, the most recent this very day, have I seen the smallest of my followers become He and She who change the tides of war, and it is only by loving them, even they the smallest, that their legend is allowed to flourish.

Love them, I swear, and your church shall see no strife, for you shall be She who Stands Behind, She whose Blade your people wield. Ask not that they be your blade, but ask that they be another's, if they be worthy, and your people shall tell legends of you who stood behind, you who gave strength, you who rallied the people. For the true heart of the warrior is found in She whose sword-hand trembles, in She who believes that Her purpose is only to delay the enemy, in She who believes that she has only one sword swing before her end, and that now is the moment to swing it.

Believe in your people, for they have nothing else but you. If they have nothing, let it be because you have nothing left to give.

Somehow, in my heart, I could hear an image of a pair of people fighting alone on the battlefield, tears in their eyes, back to back, bleeding, breaking, surrounded. An army, the Goddess', that should have marched forward, should by all logic have assumed formation, should have protected their flanks, should have kept their eyes out, charged into an ambush, and broke it without losing step. It was not one of the Goddess' own bodies, but a Vicar who loved her friends, and when she cried to the goddess, the goddess chose love above sense, above strategy.

She felt it, and the ink on the page resonated with it. It was more than that she chose, it was why she chose. She was a goddess, and her enemy felt that why. They felt that they were stalking and torturing lovers on their dying day. They felt the cruelty and malice of their leaders. They felt doubt, felt shame. They felt the why of the incoming army, the love, the friendship, and the enemy felt their morale break. They did not join an army in order to slaughter lovers, did not join to watch torture and cruelty. They joined to defend their own loves, their own families. They joined to protect what they were destroying.

The next comment after that was written in a different hand:

It should not have been true, and yet I felt it. I shall not say that sentiment is what won, though I feel my sister's heart through the ink upon this page, but I can say that the enemy are often strongest when war is simple. I have seen this past week what should have been loss become victory by raising those who were most beloved among my people, above my own interests and above my own strategic plans. That they should not fall, a battle began that could not be won, and yet that battle was not lost. A retreat that should have ended in tears stretched day after day until the greatest among my people had nothing left to give, and yet they walked, stumbled, and crawled into Carjun Vale, tomb without exit. For I ordered them there, believing that one in ten would survive the march, when it was more than one in two. There they held until I arrived. With too few archers and too few arrows, too few swords and too little strength, only their will and their goddess, they lost not one warrior within the walls of Carjun Vale.

For all the strength I gave them, I could not have made it so. The Legend of Carjun Vale is theirs, and I am but a symbol of it. For without them, I myself would have not had the heart to fight, and I swear to you there shall not come a day so long as they live that any warrior of mine will lose heart again.

There were two more similar stories, but I skipped over them. Not entirely by choice, though... each time, the ink resonated with stories, and each time, I could not keep my eyes dry, could not turn away from what was shown. I understood the point, having read it twice already, and I just... I just didn't need to hear it again.

After a few more sections of miscellaneous advice, I arrived at the end. As I did, I realized that there was a curse or enchantment of some kind over the page, and although I recognized it, I kept reading:

This was said at the beginning, but this must be written here at the end, and only for you who understands the true heart of the goddess. For you must know now that I am not heartless, but love my people truly, and yet this is perhaps the most important thing for you to understand as goddess.

Ashen spirits in your care may be consumed to learn what they know. Though it is cruel, though it seems heartless, there are things you must know. You must know generations' worth of knowledge. You must know every weapon, know every strategy, know every magic, know every art. This is something only you as goddess may do, and it is as painful to speak of in my dying days as it was to do it at the time.

For I have loved my people, and I have ended the very souls of those I loved most dearly, the wisest, the bravest, to become what they are, for my people need the wisest goddess, the bravest one. They will seek advice in my soul about the use of their weapons, their arts. If I as their goddess do not know what mere mortals know, then I am nothing. For none but you, my beloved successor, know that the Goddess has died. If I do not know what I once did, perhaps I am only legend. Perhaps I am only myth.

None who preceded you, and none who succeed you, will hate you for this. Your duty is to those who live in your name, and those who have died in your name are tools to protect them. I know that you understand the heart of the goddess, for you have shed tears for me and for your sisters. This shall hurt you deeply, and I am sorry that I have placed this burden upon you, but I can bear it no longer. My time must end, for to love your people so deeply and so long is death itself. I have no heart left to give, and I will not see my beloved people led by one who has become heartless. I would sooner sacrifice myself than lead them into the darkness and damnation that comes from that cold abyss.

Love your people until the last beat of your heart, and when you know that you have no love left to give and no tears left to shed, give your burden to she who has the greatest heart, for she too will only bear this burden for so long. But do not be eager to cast yourself into this abyss, for you shall fall in love a thousand times, and each time you shall swear it be the last, until you discover that the pain no longer comes. It is then you know that it is time, for that pain is Truth, and you must never turn your eyes from it.

I am Ciel'ostra the First, and I forgive all those who come after.

I am Ciel'ostra the Second, and I forgive you, and I forgive those who come after

I am Ciel'ostra the Third, and I forgive you all

I am Ciel'ostra the Fourth, and I (...)

I swallowed. I had known--mostly, just suspected--that this was what led Ciel'ostra to die every few hundred years, but it felt different coming from her own hand. Because although on the one hand, it was a matter of succession as a goddess, a passing down of a torch to a new generation, it was still suicide. On the one hand, I had been ready to die, lying in my medical bed, but on the other hand... if I'd had a chance to live, I would have. And when I was given that chance, although I briefly thought twice, I carried on.

To make that same decision after choosing life, after choosing to pick up yourself after falling a hundred times, or a thousand... I am not sure I could have lasted that long. To start over, pretend to be young but not be, pretend that your love is your first love, pretend to be bad at swordsmanship, pretend to be bad at strategy, to watch people die because you cannot be honest...

I put the book away and stood to stare out the small window at the night. The time I spent at the Temple proved again and again that I was nothing--small, weak, naive, inexperienced. I had won arguments, shamed people for being stuck in their ways, but... in the grand scheme of things, those were very small things. I may have won at debates, once or twice, but Ciel'ostra faced death to save lives.

Was I really important in the grand scheme of things? Did I really belong here? I tried to fight off the incredibly intense wave of impostor syndrome that washed over me. I didn't feel like a god in the same sense as Ciel'ostra, or Alanna, or Xenma. Right now I was nothing... but, I forced myself to repeat, that's all. Right now, I am nothing, but that isn't the question. When I have the same centuries behind me, the same power stockpiled, then what will I be? That is the question.

I paced restlessly until I finally felt like I could lay down for a while, but even then, I didn't get much sleep--not enough, my mortal instincts insisted. Not nearly enough.