I stood waiting at the top of the beach, a gentle ocean breeze blowing my hair to my left and ruffling my white tunic. With the coming of twilight, I was the brightest light source, my passive mana-derived glow subtly fluctuating in the same manner as the eddies in the mana that formed my shields.
I bet that timing, twilight settling in as the landing boat reached shore, wasn't a coincidence. I imagined them being anxious about approaching, making the decision only when they would run out of light for the journey if they waited any longer, and smiled to myself.
How relatable. I wasn't the only one prone to waiting for the last moment. Yes, I just compared nearly a millennium of procrastination to a few hours, what of it? Time works differently for me.
I inspected the sailors as they climbed out of the landing craft. None were mages, although it was clearly only a subset of the crew. There appeared to be ten grunts who had manned the oars, an officer--the captain?--and lastly, by far the oldest present, gray and wrinkled but still robust, was a...chaplain?
I sighed internally, closing my eyes briefly to recover my resolve. He was wearing black clothing embroidered with white fire rings and lightning bolts, underneath a transparent veil hanging from his shoulders to his ankles, made of a reflective silvery material that glinted in response to my glow. He was transfixed on me, eyes wide and glassy, mouth slightly open. I had been recognized, or at least strongly suspected, by a deadly-serious member of our apparently extant fan club.
As much as I approved of how well his robes had captured the Izena-Menelyn complementary sister goddesses aesthetic...you can't be serious. We had not yet said a word to each other, and I already felt pressured and awkward. This was going to be exhausting.
'I'll try, sister.'
On the matter of religious reverence making me uncomfortable, the others weren't much better. As they approached, the grunts stole glances at me and the shielded birds, but mostly looked at the ground. Once the party was closer to me, they stayed well back with their hands clasped respectfully near their waists, standing in place while shifting their weight uncomfortably. The officer walked just a few steps further, and swallowed repeatedly while looking between me and the chaplain, who came closest.
"Welcome to my home," I opened, my voice a soft soprano, trying to maintain as smooth and calm a tone as possible, to reassure them, and to match their expectations. "My name is Menelyn. What brings you here? Do you have any who need healing?"
There was a mix of sharp breaths, widened eyes, more deeply bowed heads, shuffling of feet, and nervous glances. My name had been recognized.
"Justice and Salvation," the chaplain breathed. His pronunciation was not quite right--a non-native speaker. The words had the sense of an oft-repeated religious utterance or exclamation.
I chose to believe that they came up with that independently. If its source was someone overhearing Izena and I teasing each other, but taking it seriously, then I didn't want to know.
The chaplain recovered enough to speak, still with pronunciation slightly odd. "My companions do not speak much Middle Ezentic, but those of this one's order study the Goddesses' language to fluency. This one hopes to be understandable."
'Middle' Ezentic?
'Ah, language has evolved in the last millennium,' I realized. What was once a widely spoken language across much of the world was now purely, um, liturgical, apparently.
My language was liturgical...somehow that little fact made me feel even more awkward regarding the whole deification thing than I had in a long time. I really did understand Azenum and Izena's points about accepting this...position, but this feeling that I was duping people would always linger a bit, I suspected.
Izena had said, "Just do what you can do, be yourself, and if they need to call that person a goddess, fine...Be the goddess they need you to be."
'Alright. I'll try. It's just another way of helping.'
Well, if the sailors had any lingering uncertainty about the identity of the glowy woman whom they'd discovered on this remote island, her offering a greeting in their liturgical language had no doubt helped to dispel it.
"You speak it well," I replied, and was rewarded with an ecstatic smile. "It has been a long time since I have been able to speak with anyone. Please, there is no need to use 'this one.' It would make me happy if you speak to me as you would to anyone."
"I understand," the chaplain said, after visibly steeling himself. "Please forgive me, but I wish to confirm: You are the White Goddess Menelyn?"
And there it was, the critical question, bringing with it a rush of butterflies. I wasn't about to throw my resolve away. If these people wished to, needed to assign me the goddess title, then I would accept it, for their sakes, and simply do what I can do. Quickly, I considered many ways to hedge or qualify my answer, and just as quickly decided against them. I wouldn't claim the title, but neither would I deny it if they assigned it to me. That much, I could manage.
"Yes." I would embrace it. "I have been living on this island for nearly a millennium. Any who are peaceful are welcome, but I wish to know: what brings you here?"
The chaplain relayed what I had said to the others.
They had many more questions, I could tell, but at last they answered mine.
"We sailed from Rokesha, intending to trade at ports to the south," the chaplain reported. "But we encountered...monsters of the ocean, odd ones, headed north, and were forced to flee. Out to sea, west, was the only direction in which escape was possible, and they pursued us until turning around shortly after the lookout spotted what I believe was Your Light over the horizon. There are some on our ship who could use healing, but they are stable. The captain"--he gestured to the officer--"was forced to act decisively. We threw our cargo and many of our provisions overboard in order to aid our escape, so we hope to find replacements on Your Island."
This was one of the possibilities that I had anticipated.
"I understand your situation. Let us go to the injured immediately, unless you object. I can provide drinking water while we are there, and will fill empty containers if you have them," I offered. "You may collect fruits from the island--carefully--but please do not harm the birds." Only now did I drop their shields, having stated the rule. "I will not tolerate any attempt to harm them."
When the man again relayed what I had said to his companions, he must have started with my warning, since all immediately nodded fervently, some making sounds of assent.
In a single motion, I constructed a solidified mana vehicle large enough for two, consisting of a bench, floor, and guard rail.
"Please come with me to translate. And, I wish to continue our conversation on the way," I said to the chaplain. "My apologies to the others, especially the captain, but it is intrinsically impossible to solidify mana more than an arm's length away, so it would be too tight a fit to take another. I expect the captain will prefer to remain with his men, anyway." I drew in more mana, making my glow bright enough to reveal the cliff in the distance despite twilight having progressed to night, and pointed. "They may wish to head to the center of the island. At the base of that cliff, there is a pool of my mana. It may be rejuvenating, and all are welcome to it."
Aside from the chaplain, none of the sailors had the faintest clue what I was talking about as I manipulated my light to make the vehicle and reveal the cliff. Including the chaplain, all were utterly dumbstruck. One man was crouching, hands on his head. Some were on their knees, very obviously praying. Others stood motionless. The chaplain recovered first, and after a few seconds of blinking, translated once again.
The captain nodded his assent while intoning "Juzdiss en Selvezhun" in a far thicker accent. Then, he collected his charges at the entrance to my forest. I waved goodbye, and indicated once again, with gestures, that they were welcome to walk into the forest as they pleased.
Taking a seat on my bench of light, I waved my passenger over. Reverently, stepping lightly as if afraid firm contact would defile it, the chaplain followed, and didn't sit.
The poor man was thoroughly overwhelmed. His hands waved around, unsure whether to press to his heart, go to the sides of his head, or rest at his sides.
"What is your name?" I asked him, patting the spot next to me.
"The Goddess is even more radiant than the records say," he whispered, shaking his head in wonder. At last, he sat gingerly, shuddered a breath, then swallowed. "My name is Dekel."
"My powers have grown over the centuries, Dekel," I admitted.
After sealing off the entrance, I levitated away from the island and toward the waiting ship.
Dekel was seated about as far from me as possible. He was trying not to act too familiar, I knew, but in practice it gave the impression that he thought I smelled bad. My self-cleaning spells made that quite impossible.
Smirking, I waved my hand to indicate that he needn't be shy. Hesitantly, my passenger shifted a hair closer.
"It is obvious why the monsters avoided this area," he agreed, nodding, then tutted at himself. "The ship's captain is named Seffed. I am sorry for forgetting to introduce him earlier. We are both native to Rokesha, this ship's home port. You and the Black Goddess Izena are venerated there. All believe that You made of Yourselves a Sacrifice to restore peace, and specifically, protect our city. And we remember too your father, Azenum the Unifier. When the city hears the news, I cannot even imagine the carnival."
He hesitated before continuing. "I must ask, does the Black Goddess also live? Is She elsewhere?"
I swallowed, clenched my teeth, and braced myself. There was a little bit of acid, and my eyes misted.
"I see," said Dekel, graciously sparing me from saying the words. "This one is sorry to recall such a tragedy. Your family's mutual love is known and serves as a model to all."
Good.
"I couldn't protect them," I managed to confess in a reasonably steady voice, a few tears falling. "But that has changed. As I am now, no harm can come to anyone who can see my light."
"I believe it," Dekel said solemnly. "We all do."