A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Izenakee's memory had been perfect for about forty-five years now. She could remember that flight back to Rokesha as if it had just happened, as if it were happening now.

The Goddesses had cried silently for about ten seconds after she had stated her wishes. Then, Menelyn had spoken so quietly that even The Listener had struggled to hear.

"How can We ever thank you?"

Izenakee hadn't needed to think for even a moment. If She was offering...

"When You're casting the spell, sing it for me."

"Every time," Menelyn had vowed with even less hesitation, nodding as She cleaned Herself. And then She'd sang the first edition. It was similar to resurrection in terms of targeting all tissues one at a time with high complexity, but less mana intensive and tedious, since Izenakee wasn't dead.

Izenakee had now heard more than thirty thousand subtly different versions, morning and night every day. She could recall any at will, whenever she wanted to listen to an old favorite.

The spell not only halted her aging, it also put her permanently in health so exquisite that she wondered how she had ever functioned before. As if that were not enough, starting with the second instance and continuing to the present, Izena brushed and braided her hair during the process, using a comb made from Menelyn's mana, so She could also participate. It was truly an embarrassment of blessings, but Izenakee could feel that not only did the Sisters not mind, They savored the contact.

A tough eternal life, but apparently someone needs to live it.

The Trusted Guard had guessed that the new singing routine was somehow related to the Goddesses' special relationship with Their Listener. Who else could be the intended audience? The first to overhear it, in Rokesha, had asked if was alright to listen from beyond the door to the Sanctuary. Assured that it was, they had begun a new tradition on the spot. Vetted were brought to listen in the morning, immediately before their final inductions, and asked afterward if they were certain that they could be entrusted with protecting something this sacred. And, retiring Guards would be assigned to the door at night on their last days.

But today, Izenakee was paying the cost. Her mother had died four days ago, and her father had just followed this morning, so Izenakee now had only two people left in the world Who still called her Izenakee. Not her cousins, not her old friends.

She had been repeating her favorite Songs of Salvation one after another today, but was currently being treated to another live one, another to be added to the list.

At least she would remember her parents forever. She could recall any visit she wanted, as vividly as if it were happening now, starting from that day forty-five years ago. They had been so proud of what their daughter had become, felt so overwhelmingly blessed, adored her so strongly, that Izenakee had eventually needed to hold herself at minimum power while visiting, to avoid being empathically dazed by their emotions.

They'd been the types to name their only daughter Izenakee. None were more devout.

The daughter in question had been carefully inspecting that old useless almost-empty rod all day.

She sighed as Menelyn concluded the night's session.

"Thank you," Izena said, and left it at that.

It is not possible to hide things from The Listener. Facades are useless. Half-truths are made whole. The unsaid is heard.

"Don't You dare feel guilty," Izenakee replied, turning to look at Them. "I would not trade what I am for anything. I have gained far more than I have lost, and it is You Who gave it to me."

Izena just kept brushing her hair. Izenakee let Her.

After a long while, She said, "They are going to ask again."

Izenakee said nothing. Izena gave her some time to think, but spoke again after completing a braid.

"You know it is always your voice that answers those in desperate need, what it means to everyone that there is always Someone Listening, the comfort that creates."

Izenakee still said nothing. She knew how it looked to people, that her only friends were Goddesses, that she was the Goddesses' only friend.

"You have been living in the Goddesses' Sanctuary for sixty years and have not aged in forty-five."

Izenakee was well aware, and very thankful for that. She had that same impossibly clean and healthy appearance. She knew what it did to people--she was an empath. It poured off their minds when they looked at her.

"We are not clairvoyant, but you are."

Izenakee knew this too. She knew all of this. She had just been reluctant while the people who changed her diapers were still alive. It had felt ridiculous. But as of today, she no longer had personal ties to any mortals.

"You are the most skilled red mage in history. No one has ever been this dedicated, for so many years in good health. You are 'just a strong red mage' in the same--"

<Make sure they paint Me red.>

----

There was now a red statue of Izenakee sitting in the Pool of Salvation. Her left knee rose out of the Pool, with Her right extended and fully submerged. Her torso leaned on Her left thigh, hands clasped around Her left foot. Her eyes were closed, head cocked so that Her elegant braids fell forward over Her right shoulder, as if She were carefully Listening for a distant sound.

"They still have such good taste," Menelyn breathed.

Izenakee approved too, but She had something to complain about.

<They never said anything about the collars.>

Her companions chuckled.

"Get used to it," Menelyn whispered into Izenakee's ear.

The assembled Helpers and Guards all had new red collars atop the old black-and-white theme, and looked positively ecstatic that they could finally add them. Plus, it had been a long time since Izena's Introduction. It was a festive atmosphere.

"Everyone has assembled, Listener," a Trusted Guard reported.

Izenakee nodded. <Thank you, Genton.>

Izenakee took a breath that She wouldn't need. Her voice would not be ringing in this Dome today.

<I am Izenakee, the Listener. I am the constant companion of Justice and Salvation, Their dedicated daughter, Their faithful friend, Their eternal ally. I am immortal and clairvoyant. In empathy, I am infallible. I hear those who cry for Help, send Salvation to any who need Her, and tell all who seek Her where She can be found. I hear those who cry for Justice, find any who would hide from Retribution, and distinguish all who are anathema from the multitudes who are innocent. Providing these services is My sacred purpose. I accept gratitude and reverence as consequences of My efforts, but do not demand them in exchange for what I do. Remember Our Creed, respect it, and I will radiate peace, security, and hope, with no expectation of reward. Ignore Our Creed, violate it, and I will become a font of paranoia, dread, and remorse, that cannot be deceived.>

All those in attendance were emotional. The Sisters were sobbing. It was natural. Two had become Three.

<Let all who would despair remember that I will always be willing to Listen.>