God of Eyes

Miana's blade in my shoulder burned, and some part of me, a part that had been buried for a very long time, started to cringe and cower. I was not a prime target for bullying, as an adult or a child--my school had been relatively quiet on that front, although it wasn't fair to say that there was none. And I had gotten through by not giving in... most of the time. And in my old job... while orders from on top were frequently unchangeable, I avoided the whole internal politics and power plays bullshit and ended up stuck nowhere for my troubles, but I wasn't abused.

But there had still been a few times. Times that I had healed from, mostly. I thought I had.

Being a god, especially one with two bodies, gave me a lot of perspective at a time like this. It was like I had three different people standing over my shoulder--the other me, and the two keys. And it didn't hurt that I considered "perspective" to be part of my domain, as a god, either. I knew something was off, but even saying that, there were three major problems: figuring out what, keeping my emotions in check, and convincing her.

At the moment, that second one was taking more than my fair share of resources. Because, as I already knew, when I started to admit defeat to another god, they began to take my power. I'd felt it, several times, when arguing with Miana--but I don't think she understood, not yet. Perhaps all she knew was that she was growing stronger--and perhaps she understood what it meant, but didn't. All I knew was, I dared not let my will break, not at a time like this.

So with no small difficulty, I grabbed her sword in my hands and forced myself off of it. Although I felt like I was losing something to do it, I momentarily let myself consider Miana an enemy--and felt the powerful token I'd been given cloud her mind. Still, she took a step forward and slashed more or less at me, and I dodged, knowing--suspecting--that she did not see me, could not find me.

"More of your tricks, God of Eyes?" My blood stained Miana's blade, and she twisted back and forth, searching the room for signs of me. "Do you understand now what it feels like to have something taken from you?"

That thought pricked something in my memory, and I squinted at her. With her as an enemy and not an ally, it was harder for my eyes to see into her. "I swore to you," I said, specifically not talking directly at her, but elsewhere into the cavern, "that I would see us through this. I swore that I was your friend and ally. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"You have lied and deceived! You have presumed and taken! I am not your wife, nor a child to be spoken down to!" Miana's second sword, magically tied to the first, began to circle around her, and I ducked down, letting the blade pass over my head. "I am no fool, Ryan of Eyes. There is more to this than you have revealed. For all that you have promised me, you still will not speak the truth!"

"I have, and I will." I meant that, but I could also sense a shade of uncomfortable truth in what she was saying, a bit of bending truth in my own words. I frowned, and nodded after a minute. The whole issue with the Djinn--I had been, was still scared to bring that up with her. "But before we do that, we must be able to talk."

"When have you ever tried to talk and I've denied you? When have you ever told me that there was something important and I spurned you?" Miana's eyes, I could tell, were full of tears, as she searched the room for me.

Her words stung, as they should have. "Let me ask you, Miana. Do you recall the section of the Book about Blood and Black flame?"

Miana stopped cold. "You... do you also...?"

"I do not. I do not carry nor wield blood or blackflame, Miana. But right now, you do." Although I didn't have much red magic essence, I forced it to manifest flame in the air near Miana. First one large flame--but when that produced a jumbled mass of colors, I made two dozen small candle flames hanging in the air by Miana.

As the candle flames stabilized, they began to change colors. Just as the Book had said, there was a godly test--godly power would turn pure flames into a variety of colors. Many of those candle flames became golden, or green, or silver, or ash. But one candle flame became blood red, and another, though it was hard to see, had just a flicker of black hanging off it.

"Your people are people of the blade, Miana." I reached with my godly power and forced the Djinn's artifact to recognize Miana as a friend, again, even though she might still have tried to attack me. "You know their culture better than I do, but clearly, some of them pledge their kills in the name of the goddess--and the blood flame that results, the souls of your enemies, that rebels against you. I have seen black flame drive mortals mad," that was stretching things a little, but with a point, "and I don't wish to see that happen to you."

Miana trembled, looking at the candles--at the one candle that flickered black. "You... you would not lie."

"I would not. I do not."

Miana studied the other flames, and then dropped both swords and took off running. I presumed, to check on her book and the wisdom that was to be found there.

And me, I sunk down to the floor, burning through soulflame to finally heal my shoulder, barely able to stop myself from shaking like a leaf with the pain.

When Muir finally forced herself back from the enemy, they had scattered but not retreated. Indeed, many were already circling around as though to snipe at the caravan's guards, who were standing and watching--but not approaching, as they were not immune to the storm the way Muir was.

Or had been.

Muir forced herself to trudge slowly through the mud to the body of her best friend. Although she sensed Xechi there beside her, spiritually within her, she could not leave the body behind, not even if her friend or god had ordered her. Although Xechi was easily four times Muir's size and weight, she did her best to pick her up and drag her forwards, towards the carts.

It was only a moment before two more sets of hands lightened her burden.

They brought Xechi to the last cart in the caravan, and although they couldn't spare room to make the body comfortable, they were able to find a place for her, and for Muir to sit on the back. That was necessity more than any kind of honor; Muir had spent too much magic, too fast, and it was more than simply exhausting; magic channels she had never known about burned in her body, and she felt fevered. She was barely able to see straight, and some part of her rebelled at even the thought of using magic.

Muir had never really been a caster, or even a martial artist. She had enough power to use her knives, and one or two other small tricks, but mostly she was there to support others. The Blades respected her for her strength of mind, wit, and ruthlessness, but they all knew that she was not a front line fighter. And this... this had been too much.

And, of course, it was not enough.

Muir closed her eyes against the headache that threatened to consume her, barely heard the words that were spoken to her, but somehow was able to hold a bit of conversation with a woman she thought was one of the Selmonts.

"We will make sure your friend is delivered to the temple," said the voice. "I am sure she will find her place among the Fallen."

Muir tried to shake her head, but it felt like her nerves were burned and frayed. "She ain't... she isn't promised to the Goddess anymore. And she's... with me but... not. Not from the Goddess. Another god."

"You mean to tell me that you were not always a Vicar of Storms?" The voice was surprised. "I thought... that you had been sent to save us. But this is new?"

"New?" Muir's eyes snapped open, and although she saw, she could not process what was in front of her. "What's new is livin' the rest of my life without my best friend. What's new is riskin' my life to save your goddamn neck. What's new is that I needed the Goddess, and she..." Muir bit back the words, closed her mouth. She felt a gentle nudge from Xechi that suggested she shouldn't leave it like that, and forced herself through the fever to... try to say something nice. "She's... busy."

"The Goddess is busy? She has someone else she needs to save, I suppose." There was a pause. "I... understand. Responsibility is not an easy burden. I am sure she will return." When Xechi did not have an immediate reply, the other woman added, "Why did Xenma choose you?"

Muir cracked open one eye, and was just barely able to see the other woman--a Selmont, from her uniform--walking along behind the cart. "Don't know that one. Xenma ain't the God of Storms no more. Bunch of stuff is different."

"But he will protect you? The God of Storms?"

"Aye." Muir's head felt heavier and heavier, and she was increasingly sure that her head was filled with a ringing that she wasn't quite aware of, and she just wanted to sleep.

"Then I guess we'll be able to weather this storm... with you, at the Eye of the Storm."

Although Muir wasn't aware of it, the other woman heard Muir laugh, just once, before she fell asleep.