For the Record

“Well, so much for that idea.”

I’m drifting above the hostile city to test if the stone guardians can be bypassed by just going over them; it’s a plan Abaris suggested shortly after I appointed him the party leader.

The swarm of oversized automatons that promptly gathered when I crossed the city boundaries and are currently milling around below me is doing a good job of throwing out that plan entirely. Oh well.

It didn’t work, they’re following me. I’m heading back, I project to my consort. Why should I bother telling the others myself if I can just have Izahne relay it now? Taking one last look at the sea of moving stone roiling below me, I head toward our temporary base.

When I approach the hazy portal, I find my death knights waiting for me to either side. I reform my body, but before my feet have even touched the ground my two attendants are already kneeling obediently.

Ugh.

“Enough. We’ve been over this; bowing and scraping is unnecessary.”

“Yes, Nemesis,” they both reply in unison as they rise to their feet.

Irritating. I can’t help but scowl as I enter the portable house.

Inside, the mage and healer both immediately stand.

Pearl looks absolutely terrified, and so she should; I am absolutely terrifying.

“It didn’t work, then?” Abaris asks unnecessarily.

I offer him a flat stare in response.

He takes a breath and quietly mutters, “I see.”

Taking the same seat as earlier in the same comfortable position, I notice from the corner of my eye that Omorth and Izahne are taking their same positions as well. Through our bonds, I can feel their focus acutely on me, more so than the other two in the room.

“C-can...” the healer starts, but then promptly trails off.

I sigh dramatically. “Speak, or don’t. Decisiveness... if you please.”

She flinches visibly at the sharpness of my tone, but after another moment of my pointed stare, she finally breaks.

“Can I ask you a th-thing?”

This... isn’t even worth a verbal response, so I gesture for her to continue with the hand not supporting my jaw.

Taking a breath to stabilize herself, she finally asks, “Your eyes are usually red. Why are they blue?”

An even more dramatic sigh leaves me. “Obviously, it’s because...”

Wait.

This feels wrong. Why? Why does this feel wrong?

…

“Consort,” I prompt.

Izahne stands, because of course she does, although I resist the sigh. “Yes my queen?”

Didn’t resist that one. Oh well.

“Over the past... however long, have I been behaving differently?”

She furrows her brow and tilts her head. “How so, my queen?”

Useless.

I’m sure Omorth would respond even more uselessly.

But I know someone who won’t lie.

She can’t.

Nyx. Tell me, am I acting different?

(OF COURSE YOU ARE,) she snaps at me. (WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?)

…

…

It occurs to me that everyone in the room is staring at me, but I can’t bring myself to care.

This is far too important.

I’m me. Myself. No one else. No one else can have me, I am MINE.

So what in all the hells is happening?

…

“If I might offer a hypothesis,” Abaris says, breaking me out of my confusion.

I gesture for him to continue, but... I’m way more aware of it now. Isn’t this obnoxious? I might kill someone who did this to me, or at least ignore them.

A sharp negative pang from the headmaster puts an end to that train of thought. No killing ‘social superiors’ or whatever I guess.

The mage nods and start speaking. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but... your previous incarnation was the Queen of Hunger. Yes?”

I nod. It takes effort, but I manage to at least try to not do it condescendingly.

“And,” he continues, “her soul –”

“As I understand it, the Queen of Hunger had no soul at that point, at least not in the context of the Record,” I interrupt.

“Yes, yes, I understand that, but all creatures have at least a body, anima, and ego. Everything but the body is considered to be part of the soul, so technically yes, she would have a soul simply by existing as a sentient creature.”

Huh.

“But yes, she then slew and subsumed the soul of the goddess of the moon.”

I nod.

“And ever since then, that goddess’ soul has not reincarnated. Her soul is most likely merged with that of the Queen of Hunger.”

“Where are you going with this?” I ask.

He leans forward and furrows his brow. “We have already confirmed that at least some parts of the Queen of Hunger’s soul have remained intact through the process of reincarnation. Meanwhile over the past week, you have been experiencing the random onset of new knowledge, for which you have no explanation. It is my hypothesis that, in the same way that your soul has retained characteristics of the Queen of Hunger, it has retained characteristics of the goddess she subsumed.”

…

Oh.

“So then, I’ll ask an important question. Are you Nemesis? Or are you...?”

I think for a moment. I’m pretty sure I’m me, that I’m Nemesis.

And I feel another touch of foreign knowledge.

“Astraea,” I say quietly.

His eyebrows shoot up while Pearl looks like she wants to be literally anywhere else.

I take a breath. “Her name was Astraea. And she wasn’t the goddess of the moon.”

***

I basically ran away.

At least this is a familiar situation, somehow comforting although it always seemed unnecessary. Izahne is wrapped around me, the covers thrown over us both.

He had so many questions, but I told Abaris I didn’t want to talk about it. It felt weird and hurt somehow, and so I left for my room with Izahne and Omorth trailing behind. The latter didn’t follow us, which is fine. He has his own room.

But I can still feel the animated sword standing outside the door for some reason.

Whatever.

I have plenty of quiet time now though. Plenty of time to try to figure out what exactly is going on with me. Although now that I think of it, it would probably be helpful to have someone to talk with about it. Someone who can point out inconsistencies or differences.

Nyx would be a perfect candidate, but I can already tell... that...

That...

Why am I hesitating? I can just take what I want, but that’s not even what this is.

I just want to talk.

Nyx, let’s talk.

She doesn’t respond.

I don’t want to force you to talk, so I’m not going to. But if you’re willing to talk to me about what’s going on, I think we could probably help each other.

I hear her sigh before she quietly answers. (You can’t help me.)

Why not? I don’t even know what’s going on. Not with me and not with you.

Her glare hits as she takes a step halfway into my vision.

…

(Fine. You want me to talk? You really, really want me to talk? You’re not too busy changing the planes just by talking? Ordering your pawns around? PLAYING GOD-QUEEN?)

Gods, Nyx. I wouldn’t be asking for help with this if I didn’t think I needed it! This is wrong, this isn’t me! I’m not supposed to be like this, or I wasn’t? I don’t know. I don’t even know!

(Of course you don’t. You never knew who you were, and this isn’t any different.)

That’s not helpful, but I guess it’s not wrong either.

…

Wait. Is that what’s bothering you?

(What?)

Me being a god, or like a god? Or whatever.

She scoffs. (You think I’m upset because you had your apotheosis, even though it failed?)

Yes, that’s exactly what I think.

Nyx turns away from me for a moment and then sits on the edge of the bed, which shifts under her weight.

And we sit in silence for a moment.

(You’ve never had to work for anything. Not really,) she finally says.

I don’t reply. I’ve learned well enough from dealing with Izahne (with Nyx’s help) that I can tell this is a place where I’m supposed to let her continue.

Although I do feel an urge to tell her to stop wasting my time and get to the point, an urge I suppress.

My Assistant turns her head to the side, enough that she can see me over her shoulder.

(How long do you think I worked to be ready to be a god?)

Your entire life, I’d assume from what you’ve told me. Literal centuries.

…

Are you envious that this happened to me?

She responds with a sigh I choose to take as confirmation.

I didn’t ask for this, you know. All of it was just being in the right place at the right time or making a dumb decision around an angry rabbit.

(I know that. Of course I know that.)

…

(She’s right, too. Your eyes are blue.)

Annoying. Annoying. I had a whole aesthetic going, didn’t I? Nobody’s going to take me seriously if they’re just, blue. There’s nothing scary about having blue eyes!

Nyx actually chuckles at that.

I missed this.

Her brow furrows. (I doubt that.)

What? Why?

(You don’t need me,) she says, her eyes gliding to my consort. (And why are you thinking of her as ‘your consort’ now? Even your thoughts are so pretentious. So pompous! You don’t sound like yourself at all.)

I didn’t choose that! It just, keeps happening! I’m all mixed up... I need help, Nyx. I need help and I can’t trust anyone else here to just tell me what they see. Izahne and Omorth are both obviously compromised.

(Yeah, obviously.)

Anyway, I’m pretty sure Pearl and Abaris are completely terrified of me now. And so they should be, but still! And wait, why did you say I don’t need you?

She turns her body enough to look at me directly before starting to speak much more academically than I’m used to.

(The point of a System Assistant is to facilitate an ascendant’s path to apotheosis. There’s no point to my existence if you’ve already done that. Normally, your Assistant would become a subordinate demigod or even returned to the cycle. But, of course, it’s my awful fate to be stuck with someone whose soul is so broken that even when they become a god, I’m still stuck here. You don’t need me. Not at all.)

That’s... interesting.

(Just interesting?) she scoffs. (I’m so glad you think I'm interesting.)

What? No, I mean the thing about demigods and so forth.

She sighs and rises to her feet causing the bed to shift again, this time enough to make my... my wife stir.

…

WAIT A MINUTE!

Nyx fixes me with a flat stare. (What now?)

That. The bed. Do that again!

Her stare gets sharper, but she humors me and presses her hand against the mattress.

And her hand sinks into it.

Her ‘immaterial’ hand that can’t directly interact with the world around her.