Natasha the Halve

I gave the three a skeptical look. “A lock?”

“Yes,” Shorvanna confirmed. “Tell us what you remember, young Halve,” she requested in a tone that wasn't quite a request but wasn't disrespectful either.

“Tell us of the life before your trial, the trial itself, and your time on Galeia,” Danuva clarified, staring at me with her six eyes.

My eyebrows knitted in concern at the choice of words.

“Young Natasha,” Saravia cooed, relaxing my brow. “We've met enough Halves to know when one of you remember.”

I let out a sigh. “Right, you're Gods,” I conceded and retold the memories of my three lives.

Earth, Hell, and Galeia. Calling my time in Hell a 'life' was a bit odd, but it technically counted.

The three listened in silence.

“... and then we got here,” I finished and put my right leg over my left, then leaned back. I put my right elbow on the chair's armrest and rested my jaw on my fist.

“These wishes you speak of,” Saravia started, raising his hand. “To be the strongest, to never forget, and to have a penis. You said the universe granted them, correct?”

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed at having them spoken out loud. “That's right,” I confirmed.

“The Architect does not deal in wishes,” Danuva commented.

“To be the strongest,” Shorvanna repeated in a pensive tone. “Forever?” she asked. “Or just at the start? What if another Halve Warrior is born while you're alive? Will they be number two until you die? Will your wish get in the way of other people's chase for power? If so, then Fate granted that wish.”

“To never forget,” Saravia hummed melodically. “It's a complicated wish. You do not remember everything, young Halve. Not yet, at the very least. That much is obvious,” he sighed, then chuckled, “Still, time will tell if Time was involved.”

“To have a penis,” Danuva considered out loud, disregarding my embarrassment. “That could simply be Galeia constructing a body that was in line with your sense of self. You verbalized a desire that took root in your mind. Reconstructing the sense of self is crucial for Halves, as well. Whether you remember a time before life or not is irrelevant.”

I slowly nodded in understanding. “Is that why I feel it as something very mine?” I asked Danuva.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a short nod.

“Cool... cool...” I nodded a few times, then leaned forward on the table. “But if our minds are made whole again along with all these instincts to protect life on this planet... why is it that remembering is such a problem? You made it sound like it's bigger than it was for me, at least. I'm having a little difficulty understanding that part.”

“Because you remember a mortal life,” Saravia replied. “You are not a mortal.”

“You're a weapon,” Shorvanna added.

“You're more nature than individual,” Danuva clarified, glancing at the Goddess of the path of the Warrior with her left eyes while looking at me with her right eyes. “As such, you are directly connected to Galeia.”

I squinted my eyes in confusion. “But I'll die eventually. Like, forever... unlike you. That makes me a mortal by definition.”

“A mortal is birthed of life,” Saravia explained. “You were not. Therefore not a mortal.”

I sighed and shook my head, then insisted, “Mors. Mortalis. Mortal. Muerte. Death. It's in the fucking word.”

“All mortal lives ends the same: with the destruction of the vessel,” Danuva pointed out. “Life, however, doesn't start the same for every living being. Galeia created you, an entity with a finite and invariable lifespan. You will live ten thousand years no matter how hard you try to prolong it. No more, no less. Your body is an infinitely adaptable construct of solidified, pure energy which serves the single purpose of ensuring life continues its infinite cycle. You are Galeia's immune system, if you will. We Divines are its circulatory system of sorts, propagating knowledge to any willing to listen.”

“A weapon,” Shorvanna repeated. “Whose main purpose is to kill.”

“And if Halves remember a mortal life, this purpose clashes with their previous sense of self,” Saravia explained. “The absolute authority you have has a weight on mortal minds. Questions begin to pop up. Doubts take root in your heart. But life is precious, is the most recurrent view of those who remember. Aren't we tyrants, then? Becomes the question. This can't be right. Is the doubt.”

“Darkness churns in the hearts of mortals, young Halve,” Danuva told me in a serious tone. “Born without greatness, nor granted it by the fates, they find themselves without purpose. They struggle to finds a satisfying goal to justify their existence. This darkness manifests when they find no meaning to their lives.”

I brought my hand to my face and scratched my eyebrows with my thumb and middle finger, not quite sure how or why a simple topic went that deep.

“This brings us to the criticism you cast my way, young Halve,” Saravia giggled, making me sigh. “We Gods give mortals a purpose through our legacies and the traditions they embrace.”

“There is no path for Warriors,” Shorvanna interjected. “Filestra took it away from mortals when she banned war. The pursuit of my approval lost the radiant fervor of those wishing to die in glorious battle. Now they hold... tournaments to prove themselves. A depressing shadow... atrophied and miserable.”

“We Gods prevent this crisis of the self,” Danuva continued, placing a hand on the Goddess shoulder while staring at me. “Knowledge, a chance at great renown, and the freedom to do whatever they so desire with it. This darkness can kill mortals, you see. I granted sentience, and with it the starting point of an objectively valuable life. None of us expected them to worship me more than my peers, but that's the beauty of mortals.”

“Another point of a valuable life is to gain our approval,” Saravia continued in a gentle tone. “Performers coming up with larger-than-life productions and innovative ways to express their emotions, never before seen or heard on this world. After that is being immortalized in history as one of the greatest of their time, perpetuating the legacy and its traditions, or changing the tradition itself if their impact is big enough.”

“But then came the objective view of the universe through the lens of research,” Shorvanna sighed. “A proper explanation of the world, absent of blind faith to our words. Fortunately, Photem rose to the call, becoming a God when he imparted the knowledge of E'er. He helped immensely in the pursuit of diminishing darkness within mortals, which had re-emerged at the time.”

“Ironic,” I muttered. “People walked away from Gods, only to find another?”

“A direction, young Halve,” Danuva corrected me. “That is all a mortal needs to dispel this darkness. An orientation, justified in the objective.”

I nodded, deep in thought. “I never would have guessed that I'd be convinced on why religion is important,” I chuckled. “Less so by Gods.”

“And you, young Halve, Conqueror of Adversities,” Saravia spoke in an amused tone. “Don't need a direction like mortals do. You were granted it by the fates. There is no personal search to do and no crisis to face. Born of Galeia, you are personally given a point of origin, and with it, a goal in life.”

“To protect this world,” Shorvanna pointed out.

“Arbitration,” Danuva specified. “Of all that is.”

“That is what makes you Eternal, instead of mortal,” Saravia finalized.

“You existence, however, creates darkness,” the Goddess of the path of the Warrior warned. “The brighter the flame, the deeper the shadows. You bring inequality to this world. Mortals think themselves feeble in the presence of your absolute might. A perfect being that baffles their understanding of what's possible. Warriors will face their weakness before you. The beautiful will rethink themselves.” She raised a hand and made a fist. “And that is a trial they must undergo. Understanding their mortality from an objective, personal standard.”

“The purpose we give is based on the abstract knowledge of possibility,” Danuva spoke. “And you give concrete, quantifiable possibility.”

“Another goal in life,” Saravia snickered. “One they can touch with their very hands, and see with their very eyes.”

“Darkness then becomes individual,” Shorvanna continued. “Will they idolize you, set you as their goal, envy you, despise you, or none?”

“Will the results of this self examination bring forth something beneficial to the world?” Danuva asked. “Or will they find despair in their smallness?”

“Either can be devastating, justified with the wrong view,” Saravia pointed out. “Controlled population growth with the goal of producing the best possible progeny so they can perfect their own species...” he sighed. “That has happened more times than we'd like to admit. Blinded by purpose and faith, mortals have the potential to do horrible things to their kin.”

I frowned and nodded. “And that's where we Halves interfere,” I concluded.

“One of many cases, yes,” Shorvanna confirmed. “But that is up to your personal judgment, young Halve. You decide where the limit exists. Just like Finestra, you decide what is right and wrong.”

I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “I see,” I muttered, drumming my fingers on the table. “Quite the responsibility, eh?” I laughed and nudged Shorvanna's elbow.

She didn't move or react.

I cleared my throat. "Anyway," I awkwardly put my hand back on the table. "Now that I understand things better... care to tell me how you know about the Abyss?"