A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Over the centuries, I'd picked up other hobbies besides playing with the birds and stargazing. Which was good, because stargazing wasn't really the same when I could only ever see the brightest ones through the glow of my own mana spilling through my skin. Maybe I could find a solution if I had more to wear than my venerable little combat tunic and undergarments, but I didn't. Trying to cover myself with a thick enough layer of spare leaves and feathers to block my glow at minimum power, while leaving my eyes exposed, had proven impractical. Burying myself in the sand except for my eyes did work--I could confirm that the dimmer features still existed!--but the setup was...not ideal in many ways.

Today, I was hovering over the coral reef surrounding the island, inspecting my work. I'd long ago finished guiding the growth of plants into my final masterpiece on the island proper, and branched out into guiding the growth of corals and plants in the reef. These were much more difficult media to work with than land plants for obvious reasons, but the additional freedom of a vibrant color palette and diversity of structures made it more rewarding, too.

It was nine centuries after my arrival, and I was finally done. The island in reality now appeared as it had in my original vision, conceived in my first century here. The effect I had been aiming at was something like "Sacred Peaceful Garden," and as I surveyed my work, my chest swelled with something other than acid for once.

I had really outdone myself.

Rainbows of coral spiraled around the island, inviting those who travel light, but blocking any who would come in force. Instead of the dense chaotic thickets that had prevailed upon my arrival, I had induced the new generations of trees, shrubs, and ferns to arrange themselves into groves with winding pathways meandering through them. Every so often, sturdy roots and branches arranged themselves into surprisingly comfortable natural furniture, ideal for bird petting. Or reading all the books that I don't have. Do I still remember how to read and write? I think so?

I frowned. That was a troubling question. I hurriedly scrawled some text in the sand. Yes, good. That's apparently as locked in as the memories that shall not be mentioned.

Sigh. Focussing on the positives, at least I could still remember the faces of my adoptive family as clearly as ever. I really am locked in at around 25 years old. Nothing has faded, at all.

I squinted my eyes preemptively to halt the inevitable flashback before it made me nauseous. There's very little I wouldn't give to go back to that moment, as I am now. "Let it go, Menelyn," I murmured. I knew academically, had always known if I thought about it calmly, that they would understand (approve, even) if we had time to talk about it. What really hurt was, well, a few things.

They hadn't had time to think it through. What had their immediate thoughts been in that moment, when their shields went down and mine got stronger? Had there been enough time for them to figure out what had happened? Did they die in the middle of considering for a fleeting moment whether I might have betrayed them?

They had trusted me to keep us all safe. Had they been disappointed? Regretted their trust? Would they do it again, knowing I would fail in the end?

And most of all, I had--ohhh, the acid. The acid had never left.

Bluh.

And most of all, I had made a choice. I only had one real option, but that didn't change the fact that I had chosen it. I had chosen to let my family die, so I would live.

I'll never know the answers to the unanswerable questions. Izena warned me against obsessing. All I can know is, I have worked hard for a long time to make sure I never repeat the mistake. I'm pretty sure it's virtually impossible for anyone to die if I'm nearby. The stretching has never stopped hurting, but I've never stopped doing it, although I stopped doing it literally constantly centuries ago.

Anyway, Sacred Garden Island of Peace and Harmony and Tree Benches for Bird-Petting.

To round out my design, I kept the pool at the base of the cliff filled with white mana, with a ring of trees induced to form a canopy above it, shading it from the tropical sun to enhance the glowing effect. I'm pretty sure a bath in that would leave anyone feeling rejuvenated, although I couldn't be sure since I was constantly bathed in my own mana already.

Altogether, this was the kind of painstaking project that only an immortal could envision and complete. It had consumed most of my time on the island, coaxing every plant and coral to achieve just the right forms, and now it was complete.

There was only one thing left to do today: provide a satisfactory shield to every significant plant and animal on the island and in the reef simultaneously.

I'd been putting it off for, uh, a while, mostly out of frustration with anchoring shields to plants, but I was never going to get any better at it than I was now, after working with plants extensively to complete my nature-art. I've definitely worked with plants more than any other mage in history, literally many lifetimes of practice. Surely, I'll be able to configure the shield anchors for plants correctly now, and after nine centuries of stretching my mana pool, I ought to have the range required for the reef, too.

I sat down, breathed, made as many shields as I could and...Oh.

Oh.

Uh, it just happened, without conscious effort. That's...the last time things worked out so conveniently for me was when I found this ideal island.

Every living creature the size of my birds or larger located within a league or so of my location had a completely impenetrable shield, and though it was draining, I was comfortably able to maintain the spell. I didn't even need to assign the shields intentionally, one by one. The shields simply jumped out and attached to the nearest target with a matching anchor signature, keys attracted to matching locks, as I willed them into existence. Was I attaching them subconsciously? If so, I was impressed with my subconscious. If I had to guess, this is probably an economy of scale effect. Make enough shields, and they self organize. If you shoot enough arrows, one of them will hit the right target. Shields that 'missed' simply returned their mana to my pool, as if they were never created.

I had always been a fan of overwhelming brute force. It really does solve problems reliably.

How many was this? I tried to do a rough estimate, and decided that I certainly didn't feel like counting. A city's worth, at least. The reef had a lot of creatures in it.

When I first arrived on this island, I could only make one of those shields. There must be at least hundreds of thousands right now.

At least hundreds of thousands of times more powerful than I was when I arrived, when I was possibly the most powerful white mage who had ever lived.

Overwhelming indeed. After nine centuries, I've achieved every goal I set for myself.

My shield range was far from infinite, and resurrecting the purportedly dead remained very mana intensive, slow, and limited to a corpse in decent condition. Healing, repair, and purification were intrinsically short-ranged and no amount of training would change that, although distributing materialized mana could very inefficiently evade this limitation to some extent. Caveats aside, for the first time in my life, I felt like that "Goddess" title wasn't completely absurd. No one, not anyone, not a single soul within my sight could be harmed by an attack if I wanted them to be protected.

"No harm can come to anyone who can see my light," I whispered.

It had been a while since I grinned so ferally. I couldn't scream too loud or I'd frighten the birds, but I wanted to.

This had been a good day.