The Void. Not some generic, run-of-the-mill void, but the bona fide, genuine article. While I knew of it through descriptions, such words do not do it justice. While there is nothing near me, in the distance all around me, lights flicker and shapes appear and disappear. It is the plane that connects to all planes, a medium for travel between them. And if I am here, that must mean I am bound for a distant plane.
There is beauty in The Void. Strange things, familiar things, those unknowable and yet stirring memories of days gone by lurk here. I could drift here for an eternity, watching all of it pass by, unraveling its mysteries, and not grow bored of it. And yet, I cannot appreciate what it has to offer, for my mind only sees one scene.
His face, stricken with grief and despair, hope consumed by fear of loss. Panic, blind desperation, and an all-consuming desire to save me. I could see that guilt screamed in his mind, the anger that raged within his being at himself for failing to protect me and at the world for its transgressions against me. The assault upon my body, how those evil men and women had ravaged me; that was manageable. I would gladly suffer that again if that were the price of sparing him that pain, if even for a moment. His anguish hurt more than anything that had been inflicted upon my flesh, and I don’t ever want anyone I love to suffer like that again.
It wasn’t his fault. I don’t blame him for what happened. He did his best, and no one could have predicted that terrible scenario. However, the die is cast, the wound stricken, that terrible seed of horror has been planted within him. Can my words and reassurance ever pull it out by the roots, or will his desire to protect me spiral out of control until I lose him?
Such a loss is unacceptable. I need to become stronger. I need to find a way to heal this mark upon his soul, to mend what has been broken before the best of him slips through the cracks. I have loved many men and women, but none like him, and for the first time in my life, I have found someone I could not stand to see lost to me. And so, I will do what I must to protect him, to protect us, and what we have built together.
Fortuitous, then, that I am in The Void. This ritual, technique, or Ability that he has performed on me, I have heard of it from the others. Soon, I will somehow be given a Dual-Blessing, and my life will change. Such change is not without a price, for I will be bound to him. Perhaps this is the push I needed, the impetus to truly commit. Not that we would not each have our side pieces, but, to know and contribute to spending the rest of our lives together; that is what shall happen now. I will not be made lesser for it, but rather, provided an opportunity to grow.
But what did I have to offer? I am no warrior, fighting in the front lines like Jericho. I don’t have the favor of a god and a lifetime of martial prowess like Skull. I have not lived for the better part of a millennia, with esoteric knowledge and wisdom like Alterez. I cannot see the future, nor guide and advise with the same skill as Nabonidus. I do not lead his army of attendants and workers like Gambino and Bambina. What could I offer that he does not already have? Other than his love for me, what need does he have for me?
Doubt crept in, the cracks in my confidence offering it a chance to find purchase in my ego. I am a skilled lover, a glorified whore, one with a Blessing that uses a term that is deemed to be more polite. I fill out paperwork and play little pranks on people. There is nothing profoundly special about me, nothing to elevate me to such heights as to be worthy of a Dual-Blessing. I know I need it, but I am not so sure that I am deserving.
But if I am not worthy, then I must become worthy, and fast, for a change has rippled through The Void. Lost in my thoughts, I did not notice the torii gates that have come before me, their spacing creating a pathway or tunnel to a place unknown. There is no ground, no down, no real sense of direction, but I will myself to walk through them, and my not-body follows. I pass through 24 such gates, an important number to my people, the remnimi. Once through the final gate, two sliding doors part for me, their surfaces unadorned yet inviting.
I find myself in a garden, one with a gentle balance between the raw and unyielding hunger of nature to grow unabated, and of the carefully curated and orderly cultivation of domestication. Flowers of every color and species abound, sometimes in their own bunch, other times in mixed patches. A pond sits to the side with elegant fish idly swimming about without care. A beast-frightener, one made of bamboo, clunks down on a stone, emptying out the water that has poured into it from above, only to find balance in being returned to its upright position where the cycle of filling and emptying may begin anew. It could be a metaphor, or just pleasant decoration. I don’t normally look too deep into symbolism, so I take it at face value.
The garden is surrounded by a low rock wall, one that I could easily step over, but I have no desire to leave. A quaint yet homely dwelling, one designed in the traditional style with sliding doors and an elegant roof that has tiles that slope upwards, is centered in the garden. While those of my village did not keep to the old ways, the style certainly found itself rooted in the history of my people.
I approach the house, and as I do, the doors slide apart in an unspoken but welcoming invitation to enter. I see a slightly lowered section of floor, one that has a singular pair of sandals. I have no footwear of my own right now, and so, I simply walk past. The first room is empty, with thin walls and straw mats of an unblemished nature as my only greeting. The doors close behind me, and in front of me, another set opens up. Inside, A woman is seated at a low table, a large and comfortable pillow of red as her cushion.
“Enter, my little one.”
Her invitation is gentle, yet firm, implying that it would be more than merely rude to refuse, but also suggesting that she looks forward to sharing her time with me. I comply, and given there is but one cushion of blue across from her, I take my seat there.
“I, Chooka of the village of Zyanxhao, humbly accept the invitation from my host. May your generosity bring you great fortune and luck,” I reply with a slight bow of my head after being seated, for it is only polite to introduce oneself after taking a seat and being on equal elevation and status.
The table is set for tea, and the woman across from me pours me a cup. She places it on a saucer, and the saucer upon a tray that has several small plates of various refreshments. With but a gesture from her finger that lazily yet gracefully points in my general direction, the tray slides across the table and stops in its proper placement before me.
The woman is both beautiful and elegant beyond measure. She wears traditional robes with large and loose sleeves, one colored and patterned in blue and red flowers on a background of white, pink, and azure. Her immaculate hair is black, straight, and flowing gently all the way to just barely touch the floor below her. Her horns are perfectly symmetrical, the pattern similar to an impala or gerenuk, yet far smoother. Her skin is flawless, and although I can only see her head, neck, and hands, the harmony between her reds and blue draw my eyes to stare with far more intensity than is strictly polite.
“Gracious, I am glad that you like what you see,” her voice, like dewdrops hanging off silk, caress my senses as they invite me to lower my guard and absolve myself of all pretenses. “I can only imagine you know who I am by now, but I can introduce myself if you are still unaware.”
Naturally, I know who she is. The gods of the Remnimi Pantheon are no strangers to me, for I have prayed to them every Shrine Day since I was a little girl.
“You are Lakshoten, of the Remnimi Pantheon, goddess of Love and Duty. If I were to ever meet the divine, you would be the most reasonable pick, for I pay homage to you more than I do to other divinities.”
“Right you are, my little one,” she replied with a coy smile before she daintily sipped at her tea. “While you are no cleric of mine, I do look forward to your prayers. Few embody the tenants of my Portfolio better than you. I have watched you with great interest, and though your Destiny has been twisted and manipulated by The Meddler, I find your journey through life to still be a delight to witness.”
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My brow furrows in clear confusion. ‘The Meddler’ is not a character that appears in the mythos or dogma of my people.
“I see you lack understanding, my little one. Allow me to clear matters up so that you may find understanding.”
With a gesture of her hand, colored smoke manifests into shapes of people and places upon the table, a construct to help portray the contents of her story.
“The gods are not immune to Destiny or Fate. We are bound to our people, for just as our mandates and Domains shape the lives of mortals, so too do the desires and perspectives of mortals shape the gods. Take this garden and house, for example, and consider the architecture of this building, even the style of my clothes. None of it is native to the remnimi culture, yet you are my children and I one of your racial deities. The remnimi are not native to your planet of Gyldvir, for you have wandered the spheres and appropriated many ideas and values along the way. Once, all of this looked quite different,” she exclaimed as she gestured vaguely around the room and at herself, “but since the aesthetics you see here are what the remnimi of this planet deem to be ‘traditional’, such is what I am now.”
The smoke on the table flowed and coalesced into different shapes and patterns, one after another, showing different people and manners of dress, some familiar, others completely foreign. Other times, it showed towns and cities, empires and hovels, all of different and foreign patterns, before settling on the scene of my own village.
“The gods are ever changing,” she continued as the smoke mixed into a cloud of nondescript shape. “What we want to be, and what people see us to be, diverge, and so we adapt. So too, must you mortals adapt, for when you choose your Fate, your Destiny is pruned, and the paths before you become more limited.
“The Meddler, the one that bears an uncanny resemblance to your lover, has interfered with your Destiny. You are not unique in this aspect, for others have been meddled with as well. While it may have appeared to be a tragedy, it was no mere coincidence that your father found himself enthralled by a Varshek, a monster that had no business ever being near your village. The truth is more unsettling, as your mother conspired with The Meddler to arrange her own death. I know not the full nature of their arrangement, but I do know that her thoughts, her love, was ever on you as she made whatever pact that bound them to engage in such an undertaking.”
Her words struck me like a hammer, the revelation shattering my preconceptions about the tragedy that afflicted my family almost 80 years ago. Mother had been a little peculiar, in retrospect, as she had been almost smothering with her love leading up to her untimely demise at my father’s hands. But, before I could parse through the full implications of these words, the goddess continued.
“Consider then, what would have happened if she had not done as she did. Your family would still be together, loving, whole. Your father would not have turned to alcohol and pushed you away. You would have remained in your village, never to have left for the greater opportunity of the city. And it follows that you would not have met your favorite lover and followed him to the ends of the earth.
“Do you think it was mere coincidence that you fell head over heels for him so easily? I know you easily offer your love to people, but you have a track record of your dalliances being brief and fickle. Yet here you are, your love so pure and strong that you could not even think of parting with him. I don’t know how The Meddler did it, but his dirty fingerprints are all over this. Somehow, you were conditioned or coaxed into loving exactly the kind of man that is the Emperor that you now love.
“And yet, despite the manipulations that have indirectly transgressed upon your agency, you are immensely happy now. You have found true love, a career that brings you boundless joy, challenge, and opportunity. You worry not for money, you have made hundreds of friends, and people value and respect you. What little girl from a small village in the middle of nowhere can claim the same? All of this and more has been the work of The Meddler, and yet, can you honestly say you are worse off for it? Such is a vexation, for I want the best for you, and he has delivered where we gods could or would not.”
She sipped again at her tea, a slight frown of irritation adding a hint of aggression to her previously dainty performance. Her teacup slammed down with more force than strictly necessary when she resumed speaking, her voice filled with more fire than before.
“And now, your lover is hurting inside, feeling lost. Each of you are throwing your own private pity parties over the events that brought you here. I’m not saying that what happened to you was not tragic nor terrible, but you both need to move past it quickly and focus on the good parts of your lives. As a [Courtesan], you absolutely have the Skills to erase the trauma of being raped. He may not, but there is no sin in using those same Skills to erase his trauma. That event need not define you. It happened, accept it, and then continue to seek the best version of yourselves instead of wallowing in that which cannot be changed. You have a duty to each other and to the world now, for you were not bestowed with all the wonders in your life for you two to strictly live a life of hedonism. You are no slaves to those less fortunate than you, but to simply push off the responsibility that comes with your power and fortune would be unconscionable. You are both stronger than you think you are, so show each other the conviction of your love.”
More like the goddess of Tough Love, Lakshoten did not pull her punches. She did not beat around the bush or sidestep the reality of things, nor could I find fault with her reasoning. Her words sang the hymn I needed to hear. Many a woman who experienced the trauma that I had would take issue with such a seemingly casual disregard for the horror and devastation of being raped, and while I do not consider them weak for being unable to press forward in life, I would not let such a setback pull me under the waves of despair.
“Your words ring true,” I say with a polite bow. “That was not my first time where I was deprived of control, nor the first time that people forced themselves upon me so brutishly. It was certainly the worst time, but that is over now, and I would rather look forward than behind me. We both know what I am here for, and while I thank you for your support, rough as it may be, I would appreciate it if we could get down to business.”
My words came across more curt than I intended, for my frustration was not with her, but rather, my own weakness.
“I want to be strong enough that nothing like this ever happens again. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress, one to be locked away in a tower where no harm can befall me. I want to be able to support those I love, to help heal them of their trauma and woes, so that the grinding of eternity does not wear them down. I want to be able to contribute, to actively support those I love, without being a burden or at risk of being harmed and causing them dismay.”
While I was speaking, Lakshoten had been placing cards on the table, the kinds used for games of poetry and memory. She paused part way through what she was doing, her hands now removing cards from the table and the rest of her deck until only two remained.
“And so, your Destiny is pruned again by the Fate of your own making,” she stated neutrally as she waved her hand over the remaining two cards. “These are the only two choices I have available for you. I trust you to make a choice you can live with.”
I took the two cards offered, and each in turn, I inspected the words printed upon them and what they had to offer. I weighed them carefully, considering the pros and cons of each, contemplating how each could change my life and how it could be of benefit to me, my friends, my lovers, and my First Love.
They offered similar results, each differing in their approach. If a wall were in my way, one would hop over it, the other would dig a hole under it. In the end, the obstacle would be circumvented, so it came down to a matter of what methods and techniques would align with my personality and inclinations. I briefly wondered if this choice was but an illusion, the outcome preordained. Ultimately, I decided that predestination was irrelevant, a moot point with no merit for deeper consideration. The vicissitudes of life were far more pressing, of more immediate and material consequence. My choice made, I selected the card I wanted; the other I returned to the table.
“A fine choice,” Lakshoten observed with a slight smile. “Now get out there! Kick ass and spread your love! Show the world that you have not just raw power, but true strength!” We shared knowing looks and impertinent smiles at her ‘undignified’ outburst of enthusiasm. “Now, I don’t want to see you back here unless it is for an orgy.”
What? I did not expect that out of her, given how she has portrayed herself, but her Love is known more for romance, intimacy, and lust than for platonic or familial love.
“Wait, about that, how do I get an invit-”
Before I could finish my very important inquiry that would play a big role in my development as a person and not at all related to my deepest and personal desires, I was flung backwards through her house, through her garden, back into The Void and through the torii gates.
And then I came to, nestled in the arms of my First Love, held in a princess carry as we remained together to face the end of the world, for the portal was activating.
