A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

It appeared that I had achieved the desired effect. When the doors had opened, the main chamber had been a chaotic rush of activity and noise. Within a few seconds, the only exceptions to awed reverence were a few screaming babies and associated frantic hushing.

The building was not as packed as it had been yesterday. Presumably, those whose homes were salvageable had already returned to them and others were out on relief efforts, and only the remainder were still here. That said, the crowd was still many tens of thousands at least.

If I said anything, it wouldn't be understood by most, so instead I waved gently and smiled, while looking around for someone I knew.

Dekel? The woman I shall mentally refer to as Lynoi to avoid further psychic damage?

Unsurprisingly in a crowd so large, I couldn't find either, if they were even here in the first place, so I turned to Kestef.

"Could you show me to the injured, or someone who knows where they are? Or better yet, if there is something like a morgue, take me there?" I asked.

He smiled and bowed, then led me through the crowd, toward the area that the woman carrying the once-dead boy had come from when I first arrived. I cast cleaning spells on the people that we passed as we walked, because they required a trivial amount of mana, and I knew their enormously disproportionate value in restoring a sense of normalcy and optimism. Belatedly, I realized the impression of divinity that leaving such a trail behind me might generate. Well, so be it, I'm consciously leaning into the role now, anyway. They need it.

Inside a room that was ordinarily a small side chapel, there were a little over one hundred bodies covered in white sheets. I asked Kestef if these were all of the dead, and he confirmed. At least, these were all of the dead in the Temple. This would be a remarkably low fatality rate for the city as a whole, but there were surely more that had not been brought here. They were beyond my reach.

Some of the bodies were those of children, and most of those had parents beside them who looked, bizarrely, anxious but not grieving.

Ah, they knew what I had done yesterday! They were not grieving, because they anticipated that I would come today. Instead, they were waiting anxiously, as if their children were only severely ill.

As expected, in the moment that I had taken to puzzle this out, all of them had noticed my entrance--it was not subtle, since the room brightened markedly--and looked toward the door as if a Goddess of Salvation glowing with white light had walked into the room to deliver a miraculous resurrection of their dead children.

This much was as I intended. Inspiring these feelings, fighting despair, was why I was assuming this role in the first place. I would answer those prayers. Even so, I was not feeling very goddess-like as I looked around the room.

I. Hate. Triage.

This was too many. Even if I had enough mana for them all, and I did not, I would not have enough time before they passed outside the resurrection window. If I estimated that each revival would require twenty or thirty minutes, this amount represented several days of nonstop resurrection casting.

I would need to let people die. Or rather, stay dead.

I explained the situation to Kestef.

"I am able to resurrect people, who were not too badly damaged, within about a day or so of their death, but it requires extraordinary effort and time, even for me. I will not be able to help everyone here. I will start with the children and should be able to finish all of them before the window expires, but I do not think I will be able to help many if any of the others."

He nodded gravely.

"I am sorry to ask others to do this on my behalf, but I will not be understood. If you or another member of the order could inform everyone of this, so that there is no false hope, I would appreciate it. And please, ask if there are any here who died much earlier or later, so I can start with the oldest cases first."

Without another word to me, he had all of the other guards start making the rounds, he alone remaining near me to serve as a guard while I worked.

I walked to what appeared to be the youngest body, smiled and nodded as reassuringly as I could at the parents, and got started. I could hear in the background that the news was not being taken well. Every anguished wail cut at me. No shield could block these blows.

When I finished the first case, I looked up to a mostly despondent room, and my heart dropped. I had made too good a first impression yesterday, and inspired too much faith in my abilities. The consequence of being a fraud was disappointment.

Too much faith, and disappointment.

I wasn't even looking at Azenum when I rerouted mana from his shield to my own--

"Ahht-" I gasped, eyes widening. The acid hadn't hit this hard in a very long time, and now it had happened both during the conversation with the storm fly and now.

The baby I had just revived was wailing next to me, her parents weeping in relief.

Kestef was restraining a girl who appeared to be about twelve years old, so that I could work uninterrupted. She looked furious and disappointed. With me.

A kindred spirit.

I had a feeling I knew what this girl wanted to say to me. I looked into her eyes sadly, while speaking dejectedly to Kestef.

"Why did I arrive so late? Why did it take so long for me to start helping? What is the point of a goddess who needs to let people die? Am I just going to let her--is it her mother?--stay dead, even though I can help her? Is that what she says, Kestef? Please, be honest, I will not be offended."

"It is her mother, yes," he replied slowly after a moment. He hesitated more before continuing. "What zhe says is closest to the lest option. 'Why do you choose to let mother die? You could save her if you tried herder! You could save her if you cared!' Please forgive the sentiment. Zhe is grieving, end her fether is in zhock, over near her mother."

I dropped to my knees in front of the girl and shook my head. "There is nothing to forgive in wanting her mother back. She is not wrong."

I could ask Kestef to rattle off my excuses. I didn't know about the state of the world. I cannot be in all places at once. I can protect people who are close to me from harm, but not those who are very far away. My power is finite, and I cannot stop time. None of these will do anything to convince a daughter that her mother should die.

All I can do is hope that she will forgive me, eventually, for not being up to this task that a real goddess should be able to accomplish.

I am well aware of my limitations, and I have not been deceptive. No harm can come to anyone who can see my light, but her mother cannot see my light right now, nor could she at the time when she was hurt. My protection is not perfect. It never has been. It never will be. I accept that.

I bowed, then rose from my knees, and walked to the next patient on the list.

I am not perfect. I will do what I can do, be who I can be, and hope that it's good enough.

This was going to be an exhausting day.

Then it sunk in. I'm immortal. This was going to be an exhausting eternity.

Fine. So be it. All the real divines apparently gave up on helping a long time ago. I could never do that. Until Somebody Else steps up, Menelyn, Goddess of Triage, is what they get.

Please, let her name be anything but a Menelyn derivative.