Chương 9: Goddess vs. Hardcover

Anadis rested in the lukewarm embrace of his bedsheets, two pillows stacked beneath his head, their deep gold silk fabric soft under his cheek. For about an hour now, he had been simply watching as the morning light danced across the floor tiles, their patterns vibrant with the natural light.

His room—well, his and Albus's, as twins they had to share most things—always carried an ambiance of quiet harmony like the vines that trail and hang wildly from the cloudy frescoes painted on the ceiling, the earthy terracotta pots that Mother had lining the balcony, and the salty breeze from the sea that would always come and curl the pages of his many piles of open books in the corner. He breathed in and closed his eyes.

A full day of him just sleeping had passed since the conclusion of the Blessed Trial, and since he'd fainted back at the cathedral. His heart had pounded so fast he'd seriously thought it was about to burst. The church healers had given him an elixir to ease whatever had happened, saying it might have been his core struggling to harmonize with his Blessing. According to them, it could take time before any signs of that Blessing appeared.

Of course, all this was said to his parents, who then relayed it to him—because, well, he had been knocked out through the whole thing. And yet… was that the truth? Had he actually gotten a Blessing? At least from what he remembered, the Divine Voice had said there was an error with… the merging. Or whatever it was. Leave it to him to be the first person in history to survive the Blessed Trial and not be Blessed. The irony was damning, to say the least.

Anadis had once imagined that gaining a Blessing would make him feel invincible, as if he were suddenly on top of the world. Blessens were the gods' chosen, after all. Shouldn't they feel that way? He didn't feel any different at all. Instead, he just felt… ordinary. Awful would be a more fitting word, actually. There was no surge of power, no spark of something divine or even new—just the familiar weight of his own mundane body. Which could only mean one thing: he hadn't received a Blessing.

The Divine Voice had said there was a merging error, a sacred fault, whatever that meant. A creak of the door announced Mother stepping into the room. She carried a beaded, icy-cold jar of water and gently set it on the nightstand beside the bed.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead.

"You're not feverish anymore. That's good."

"I'm alright, Mom," he replied, removing her hand with a bit more haste than he intended to. She threw her head back dramatically, her thick raven-black curls swaying. A small gasp escaped her, then: "All the work I do for my kids, and this is how they treat me!" She looked at him with one eye, feigning offense. A sharp exhale.

"I'm sorry." The dramatic woman giggled, then tilted her head and leaned closer, studying him.

"W-what?"

"Nothing," she said, sounding doubtful as she scratched the back of her head.

"Must've been a trick of the light. For a second, your eyes looked a little brighter than usual." She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, then stood up.

"Keep resting. Call me if you need anything." The room grew quiet as his mother's footsteps faded down the hall. Albus and Aelia were already outside, about to learn how to call on his new Blessing with Father. Anadis had wanted to join them, but honestly, he felt apprehensive. He couldn't quite explain it, but what if he stepped outside and failed to use his supposed Blessing? That would make the assumption that he didn't have a Blessing an undeniable truth.

Besides, he just wanted to lie in his bed a little longer and stay with his thoughts. As he gazed out of his pale blue shutters, the azure, cloudless sky met his gaze, birds gliding in the distance, their wings fluttering serenely. Peaceful. But peace didn't last. A thought crept in, unbidden, chilling.

"Whose voice had that been when I fainted?" he murmured to himself, head propped on his palm. He could have sworn he had heard one just before he lost consciousness, a voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Had I imagined it?" A sudden and uninvited strong gust of wind slipped into the modest bedroom, scattering his neatly organized pile of books.

"My books!" he cried, dragging both hands down his face.

"Ugh, just what else do I need to do to make you see me!" a childish voice echoed.

"Who… said that?" Then came a faint buzz of wings, followed by the same childish voice.

"Tch, so hopeless." Anadis looked up and squinted at something bright that was hovering just an arm's length from his face. A small glow drifted near the corner of the room, trailing glittering golden and violet motes that floated weightlessly behind it. He rubbed his eyes hard, but the thing remained. He gave the light a quizzical look as it hovered near him again, pulsing softly, like a star that had lost its way indoors. What is this thing? A talking twinkle with wings? Is my scrambled head playing tricks on me?

He scooted back instinctively. Whatever it was… it had spoken. He was sure of it. He had never seen or read of anything like this before. He extended his hand to feel it, but it shied away, fleeing his touch like a dragonfly escaping a bird.

"Don't touch me, mortal!" the light warned, its glow flickering with disgust.

"What are you?" he dared, in a whisper. The light began to stretch and compress in an odd, hypnotic way, like thick honey slowly folding in on itself. Then, in a heartbeat, it assumed the shape of a little girl? She looked to be nine or ten years old at most. She was tiny, really tiny, about the size of his forearm. Her hair was mostly white, with a single streak of black running through it. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The golden-violet motes still lingered, but now they drifted from her skin like radiant specks of air motes. She wore a white dress that flowed like liquid light.

"You can see me?" the little winged girl blurted in her childish voice, spinning midair like a leaf caught in a gentle gust.

"Finally!" He rubbed his eyes again, then shook his head and exhaled sharply before looking up once more. It was still there. Maybe if I try one more time… Shutting his eyes, he began to hum a soft note. When he opened them again and looked up— No… still there. Of course it was. Of course she was. She was clearly a she, not an it. Her tiny expression twisted in clear disapproval.

"You should be grateful," she said.

"I decided to keep you. Thanks to me, you're conscious." She placed a proud hand on her puffed-out chest.

"Try not to die again. It is extremely inconvenient."

"I… died?" His eyes narrowed amid his bewilderment.

"Briefly," the glowing little girl said, straightening and smoothing her dress with the air of someone who considered herself above the world.

"Briefly?" he echoed, wondering just where he had hit his head to be imagining whatever this scenario was.

"Yes, your heart stopped. It was messy and inconvenient, and I would prefer it not happen again." She examined her nails.

"You're welcome, by the way." He stared at her.

"You saved my life?" Was this real? Was a floating magical girl really telling him he had died and saved him?

"I preserved my vessel," she corrected immediately.

"Don't mistake necessity for generosity." No. Absolutely not. Anadis rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Hey! Don't you dare ignore me so brazenly!" He had survived a Grull, a trial, and a goddess. He was not about to wake up insane on top of all that. So, like any sane person, he would simply ignore whatever trick his mind was playing. Surely, just like any other problem, it would solve itself with time.

"You've got some nerve ignoring me, you mortal!" the little imaginary voice in his head yelled.

"I'm a goddess. You shall bow before my presence!" Just ignore the imaginary—wait? Did she say… goddess? A whirlwind of thoughts assaulted him as he sprang to his feet, the mattress bouncing beneath him. Anadis stared at the little girl with wings floating before him. He scrutinized her. Black iridescent wings. Antler-like horns. Golden eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded. A gasp escaped her.

"How dare you forget someone as unforgettable as me?" She planted both hands on her waist and leaned in close to his face.

"I am the rightful ruler of Helheim, the Underworld beneath the world tree Yggdrasil. I am the Goddess of Souls, the one and only Thirteenth Goddess—Helphrena!" She flashed a wicked smile accompanied by an evil little laugh.

"Now do as I say or—" A book plummeted toward her. She barely evaded it at the last second.

"What are you doing?!" she bellowed. But Anadis didn't listen.

"You tried to kill my brother and me, and you think I'll just listen to you?" He swung the book again. She dodged.

"You lowly mortal, how dare you—" After a third attempt, the book smacked her square in her tiny frame, sending her crashing to the ground.

"Yes!" Anadis shouted triumphantly.

"That's what you deserve, you sorry attempt of a goddess! Don't you dare touch my brother or me again!" She hovered upward and flew with a weak, bobbing flight—rising and falling like a mosquito after being whacked. Her wings hummed as she drifted upward, clutching her head in a daze.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said, her voice low and icy. Her tiny face was the very definition of fury.

"Now I'll carve that mistake into your soul." Then her radiant body flared even brighter, glittering motes of gold and violet sparking around her as she glided toward him.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" Anadis threw his arms up as a shield, but it was futile. She phased straight through them and sank into his chest.

"Argh!" He clutched his torso as a sharp sting exploded inside his heart, as though hundreds of needles were being driven into it at once. Dropping to his knees, he let out a raw screech of pain.

"This is what you deserve, you lowly human. The nerve to smack me with a book!? Me! A Goddess! You would need to be a god yourself to even think of harming me." What the heck is going on?! Did she just speak inside my head? Never mind that. Had that thing really phased into his chest? Was she inside his heart right now? Could she kill him? Of course she could! If she really was the same witch from the trial, she could probably kill him, and the whole island if she wanted to.

Why had she chosen to pester him, of all the kids alive?

"Get out of my body, you damn wretch!" He rolled on the floor, clutching his chest. The pain was so intense that he was convinced that if he let go, his heart might split in half. Then it stopped, and the impish little wretch popped into existence, swiping sweat from her brow.

"W-what do you think of that, huh?" she puffed, chest rising and falling.

"You—you better not mess with me again." Anadis patted his chest for good measure, making sure she hadn't left a gaping hole in it.

"Holy hell!" he gasped.

"W-what did you do to me?!"

"I just demonstrated what happens when you mess with me," she breathed, still catching her breath. Anadis grabbed another book from the fallen pile and was about to smack her again when his door swung open.

"What in heaven's name is happening?" Mother said, eyeing him suspiciously. Nora stood right behind her.

"Are you alright? We heard you grunting loudly. Are you in pain?" His older sister asked, brows tugging together in concern.

"Mom, Nora, run! She's dangerous!" Anadis pointed at the hovering goddess, who didn't even bother to hide or glance at the two females.

"What are you talking about? There's no one here," Nora said, tilting her head, eyes narrowing.

"Did you hit your head again?"

"What?" he muttered, then looked at the clearly visible girl with wings.

"They can't see or hear me," the tiny goddess said, arms crossed, a smug look on her face.

"Only you can." Mother approached and looked at him.

"Are you seeing things, Anadis?" she asked, giving him a look of pity, the kind you'd give a child who claimed to see a monster under the bed. How come only I can see her? His mind was reeling. Am I actually going insane?

"It was… a bee!" he blurted, trying to come up with something.

"Yeah, a bee stung me. That's why I was screaming." He swung the book wildly, batting at the air as if swatting an imaginary bee, hoping it would make the excuse more believable.

"Right," Nora murmured, not convinced.

"I knew it!" Mother blurted, her eyes wide and jaw slack, as if she'd just uncovered his secret stash of dirty books.

"Your eyes, they are a different color! I knew I wasn't imagining it before." Nora hurried over, her curly black hair—so much like Mother's—bouncing against her back. Icy blue eyes fell on him.

"You're right, Mom! They're not grey anymore!" She clapped both hands over her mouth, covering a gasp.

"My eyes? A different color?" he echoed. Just what were they talking about? Why would his eyes change all of a sudden? Then he almost jumped out of his skin as the goddess flitted right in front of his face.

"I must say, they look good on you. You'd better be grateful." Nora snatched Anadis by the arm.

"Come take a look. We're not lying." She pulled him toward the corner of the room, where his silver-framed mirror stood. Anadis leaned closer to the mirror, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He used two fingers to stretch the skin around his eyes. His beautiful grey eyes—the ones he had inherited from Mother, his one redeeming feature—were gone. Now they were bright yellow, golden even, like two pure Solan gold coins reflecting the twin suns, each spiraled with a violet iris.

They were so brilliant that he wouldn't doubt they would shine in the dark. What had caused this? A small laugh—cold and superior, like someone laughing at an insect struggling in their grasp—resounded behind him. The cause was obvious. It was her. The damn witch. She had done this; he could read it in her cruel smile.

"How do you like that?" she asked, sneering." My little vessel."