Goddess Rising

They went past the room with the staircase and into the one on the other side of the entry hall. There, two more armchairs sat beside an end table. Bookshelves lined the walls, leaving space only for two windows at the front and back of the house as well as the doorway. Achi opened both windows, and then moved both chairs away from the center of the room.

Then he stood in the cleared space and took several deep breaths.

“What are you doing?” Aria asked.

He screwed up his forehead, as if concentrating and then to Aria’s shock, a woman appeared before them. In the past, she would have jumped back. Now, Aria only stared at the figure in confusion. It did not move or breathe. It stood still as a statue, though it was clearly made of flesh and blood.

“What do you think?” Achi sounded slightly pleased, like an artist hoping for praise for his masterpiece.

Aria stared some more at the still body until her mind conjured a reason for its existence. A body. For her.

“How much time do you spend making women’s bodies?”

A gratifying look of embarrassment bloomed on Achi’s face. “It was an assignment! For art! I make men too!”

She would have laughed if she could. “That does not help your case.”

He bristled some more and then, finally, detected her amusement and rolled his eyes. She mentally advised him not to get comfortable. She, too, was capable of insults.

In answer to his question, she inspected the body. Its features were perfectly proportioned. The single blemish, a slight dimple on one cheek, only seemed to improve her beauty. She wouldn’t win many contests and she was certainly no match for Evera, but there was little disagreeable about her. Her hair was wooly, the same as Aria’s and too thick to fall under the influence of gravity. So, it framed her face in a ten-inch tall dome of curls. Only the lowest curls brushed against the top of the woman’s dress.

“I don’t like the hair,” she said. “Make it longer - and straight.”

Achi frowned. “No.”

“Why ever not?”

“It took me three months of suffering under my father’s instruction to complete this work of art. She looks exactly how she should.” Aria tried to skewer him with her gaze, but he continued, oblivious. “If I change the hair, she will look less pleasant - trust me, the artist, on that point. Then you will want to change the rest of her face to match. And if I do that, she’ll start looking like a misshapen lump of clay because, as I said, it took months to get this far. I’m a decent artist, but I’m not confident enough to modify a functional human body with limited time. You’ll end up with teeth that fall out or muscled improperly attached to the bone. If you don’t like it, my duck-making is more advanced. Ducks lead simple, comfortable lives.”

Aria wanted to argue, but there was no point to it. She would rather live in a slightly unsatisfactory body than a deformed one.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just find a more powerful god to fix it later.”

He paid no attention to the taunt. She felt a sharp pull, followed by a falling sensation, and then her perspective changed. She could see Achi directly in front of her. Her new body was taller, so her eyes were level with his. Strangely, however, her old sight had not disappeared. With some concentration, she could still see the sea outside, the house’s wooden roof, and the surrounding tree leaves waving in the wind.

“What’s wrong with me?” She asked. Her new voice was unfamiliar, subtly fanning the flames of her panic.

Achi returned the chairs to their previous place using his hands rather than his powers. Aria could estimate the remaining power in his ring and guessed that it was enough to move furniture, but she would not dissuade him from saving it.

He sank into his chair with some tiredness while Aria remained standing. He didn’t prod her. She inspected her hands and feet, lifting one and then another to test the body. It felt unfamiliar, but comfortable.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he said. “You’re dead. If you recall, that was the plan. I was to make a deal with Garo for your soul and put you back in a body.”

“You were supposed to resurrect me, not just - am I a ghost?”

“Yes,” he spared no sentiment for her horror. “The plan was not meant for haste. Do you know how much energy it costs to properly resurrect a mortal?” He waved his ring-bearing hand. “I don’t typically carry that much. If you had stayed safely where I put you, I could have collected more energy from my father. Spread out over a few months, it would have been easy. But if I ask for that much now, I won’t be able to come up with an excuse that won’t raise his suspicion.

“Anyway, this is better.”

“How?” She noticed a book behind him floating slightly off the shelf. At a thought from her, it sank back into place. She could see through walls, move objects without touch. Of course, she was a ghost.

“Because my father believes you’re handled. All that kept you safe in the past was his indulgence. I told you, he can rarely be defeated directly, but like a rock in a stream, you can sometimes ride his current to your destination.”

Aria tried to feel safe or glad, but all that came to her was unease. “How did you do it? How do you know that you fooled him?”

Achi grimaced at her phrasing. “Fool is the wrong word. We redirected his attention.”

“You weren’t ill.”

“Of course I was. I had barely completed the deal with Garo and shared the plan with one person when my fever returned. Thankfully, I have smart accomplices. They gave you a slow-acting poison and hoped I would wake before you died. It worked. Once Garo informed me that he had your soul, I created a construction to control your body - scream at all the appropriate times - and sent it off. I had to come here to do it, so today was the second time I had to leave in a huff.”

“And Tivelo fell for that?”

“Gods of love are simple creatures. I simply gave him enough worries: his guilt, my illness, my anger, several choice words about his inadequacies. He won’t think of anything but me until we reconcile. Even if a thought occurs to him, he’ll push it aside.”

Aria did not believe it. Tivelo was deceiving them. “You were hiding me right under his nose. How? I think he’s humoring you.”

Achi laughed. “Have you ever been ill? Do you think your mother was thinking about her farm or chickens during that time? If I am unhappy, the whole word disappears for him. It’s part of his nature. You wouldn’t understand it. And as for hiding you,”

Achi held out one of his palms to show her that it was empty. Then, he closed it into a fist. He opened and closed it several more times in an incomprehensible demonstration.

Aria’s legs were beginning to hurt, so she took the previously rejected seat and snapped at him. “I don’t understand that.”

“Hiding objects is not complicated, Aria. Human souls are tiny. If I wrap a part of my soul around them, they become invisible, like putting a pebble in my palm. My father is not rude enough to search me for contraband.

She shook her head, rejecting his explanation. “He knows. He was simply humoring you.”

Achi shrugged. “Whether he did or did not, you are safe now.”

She could not hide her anger from her voice and she did not try. “How so? You are going to die. You claim that changing my soul would hide me, but Garo found me easily enough to return me to you.”

“He found you with your memories: it’s easy in the afterlife. But you are never going back there. If you do, my father will eventually find you. You’ll stay here. Souls that fade on this side fade permanently. And don’t worry about Garo. Our deal included memory modification for him. He doesn’t even remember you or our deal.”

It was too much all at once. She rose and began to pace. Tivelo knew of her escape. He probably also knew of her location. How long would it be until he imprisoned her again? Perhaps he would wait for Achi’s death. Perhaps not.