My night had been sleepless. I’d recovered from my exhaustion after Guuji, and so had no need for it. Physically.

Mentally, I wished sleep could have taken me out of my thoughts for a while. Guilt and anger bubbling together. I didn’t know if I blamed myself or Nemza more. 

I hadn’t managed to fix my mood as the hints of dawn began to crawl up the eastern horizon, but I’d had enough of staring blankly into the ocean. I walked back to the temple, doing my best to avoid the puffin-folk village. I knew the damage was mild, but it still wasn’t something I felt I had the emotional focus to look at. 

Walking into the temple, I was hoping to wake the others up shortly. We had a long voyage to the southern temples, if we were going to gamble on them having not yet fallen. The old priest hadn’t been the most talkative, insisting he was unworthy of the way I talked to him, but I had managed to learn enough to know that granting the others the powers of divine champions was something we couldn’t ignore.

As I made my way towards the bedrooms, I passed the library and was surprised to find it occupied. Stopping, I expected to find Uké’el. Instead, however, it was Ne’avo, a pile of books beside her on the table and her attention focused on some ancient tome, despite the low light. She was so focused that she didn’t seem to notice as I approached.

“Interesting, is it?” I asked.

She jumped, grabbing at her chest in fright. “You snuck up on me.”

“I didn’t really. You were just in your own little world,” I replied, sitting in a chair across from her. “Quite a lot of books you’ve got here.”

She gave a small nod, looking slightly ashamed. “I was just—it’s… it seemed likely that the library might have information on the divine oath ceremony. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I could at least check… and, well, I think there might be enough here?”

When she said that, she gestured to the pile of books beside her, and I realised there were a number of bookmarks in each of them.

“You read all of those in one night?” I asked, staring at the size of the stack of books.

“Uhh… I was—I was just skimming,” Ne’avo replied, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. It almost seemed like she considered this something to be ashamed of.

“You’re literate?”

Ne’avo and I both turned to see a groggy Aara at the entrance of the library, wearing a sleepy yet smug smile on her face.

“Of course I’m literate,” Ne’avo muttered. “N—not that that makes me a bookworm or anything.”

“Looks like you have some serious bookworm skills to me,” Aara said, walking over and leaning in to examine all the books piled up. As well as the numerous bookmarks sticking out of them. “Good work.”

“Oh… umm… th—thank you?” Ne’avo replied. “Though, I think Uké’el probably needs to look things over. I don’t know if I understand all of it.”

“Either way, it’s a very good start,” I said, wearing a soft and encouraging smile. “Not the skill I expected you to have, but it’s a useful one.”

---

When she looked it over, Uké’el agreed that most of what Ne’avo had found was quite useful. It took them both much of the rest of the day to hunt down enough missing pieces that Uké’el felt confident we could manage the ceremony on our own, but it was far faster than if she’d been working alone. 

Not that doing the ceremony was going to be easy. There were twenty two steps for each of them to memorise, and they only had three days to memorise everything. My role was set to be far simpler, though I was going to have to repeat it four times without any mistakes, so it wasn’t like I could slack off either. 

The words of the various oaths had to be said exactly, and each had slightly different responses for me to give. All in an ancient dialect of Elven only Uké’el and Ne’avo had any knowledge of. Each level of oath created a stronger bond, and one needed to do each step in order for them to take. 

“How long is a lunar cycle here?” I asked, taking a break from reading my lines to rest my eyes.

“Twenty two days, why?” Aara asked, while grabbing a bread roll to eat.

“I was just wondering if it might have been a good idea to only do half of these oaths now, so we’re under less stress,” I said. “But… yeah, twenty two days is probably too long to want to wait.”

“We also don’t really gain any benefits until the last three oaths,” Uké’el explained. “So it is effectively all or nothing.”

There was a level, though, where I was happy to have this rush of studying needed. It was a good way to take my mind off of the recent death and destruction. I didn’t want to forget the old priest (who’d refused to tell me his name, saying it didn’t matter), but I also craved distraction from the pain of causing more death.

---

On the second day of cramming, Sukura was clearly going a little stir crazy, reading over the notes. Whether it was just the stress, or recent events tugging at her own not quite finished mourning, I didn’t know. I hoped it was mostly just the former, though.

“I’ve always learned better when I’m active,” she muttered, eyes drifting off to an empty middle distance. “I don’t think anything will stick if I keep going like this.”

“We don’t have time for distractions,” Uké’el replied.

I, however, blinked. There was something in the back of my brain, whispering a half remembered fact. “I… I think it’s actually a thing?”

“Pardon?” Uké’el asked.

“Um… that exercise helps with memory. I… I don’t really remember the specifics, but I remember seeing that there was a study that showed something like that when I was trying to find better studying techniques,” I explained, as best as I could manage. “It only needs to be, like, twenty minutes?”

“Huzzah! Backed up by that… what was it you called the not-magic in your world, again? Skyance?” Sukura said, lighting up with a smile.

“Science,” I replied.

She nodded. “I was close.”

“I… I don’t know if it would actually do anything for you, though,” I said, turning to Uké’el. “Or me, come to think of it. I’m not sure if either of us have metabolisms…”

“Mhm, well, a twenty minute break probably won’t do much harm,” the older woman said, with a small nod.

---

In the end, the rest of us jogged around the island while Uké’el read out the steps of the ceremony for us to repeat. It certainly felt like a good way to change things up. A way to push the memorization efforts into a different part of our brains.

I hoped it was working.

---

And then it was the night of the new moon.

We made our way to the main chamber of the temple, a large circular room where an altar satstay in the middle of raised seats. There weren’t a lot of seats, the temple seeming like it was never meant to host large events. But it was still the largest room in the temple and the centre of the various divine energy channels.

I didn’t understand all the theory of it, but Uké’el insisted it was a master work of architecture. All I knew was that, moving the small altar so that I could stand in the middle instead, I felt… something. A peace and confidence I so rarely knew.

The others had dressed in robes they’d found, natural fibers free of any metals. Simply and flowing things that were surprisingly flattering. Even though it was quite odd to see Ne’avo in something that looked so feminine on her. 

“It’s so flutter-y around my legs,” she mumbled, holding the pale skirt of the robes awkwardly while blushing furiously. “Can’t I at least wear pants underneath?”

“This is the outfit for an oath swearing,” Aara replied. “Men have to dress the same, at least.”

“I’m still not used to it… I basically feel naked at leg level,” the muscular elf muttered to herself.

“Time is wasting,” Uké’el said, walking forward.

She was the first to make the oaths. All twenty two. The initial promises were simple. Respect, truthfulness, and other good manners. Just a general promise to be polite. I accepted each in turn, with the practiced and specific phrases of response. By the end, though, it moved on to the oaths I found myself struggling to accept. Especially now as the flow of energy made them feel so much more real.

“I promise you, beloved goddess, my heart,” she said, in the ancient tongue. The Elven from before the death of the Moon God.

“I…” I paused, making sure I did not double any of my words in the complex language, “as your goddess, accept your heart.”

It was odd, but the statement seemed to have a weight to it. As if a physical bond were building.

“I promise you, beloved goddess, my unlife,” she said, her lines modified just slightly for her own situation.

She had assured us it would still work.

“I, as your goddess, accept your unlife,” I managed, still feeling awkward, but knowing I had to accept.

There was a crackle of energy in the air, and I swore I could see a soft thread in the air. I could not judge a colour, but it seemed to flow from my hand to her heart. 

“I promise you, beloved goddess, my spirit,” Uké’el said, the final promise.

“I… as your goddess… accept your spirit,” I said, and the white thread solidified.

It did indeed travel from the ring finger of my right hand towards her heart. I couldn’t help staring at it, wondering why none of the texts had mentioned this.

The mysterious thread distracted me enough that I nearly missed the way Uké’el had started to glow. The glow increased, however, and was much harder to miss. There was then a flash of white light. 

When it subsided her loose cotton robe had transformed, becoming a mage’s robe similar to the one she wore, but somehow radiating an energy that proved it was of fully magical origin.

“Well, that’s something,” Sukura mumbled from her nearby seat.

Uké’el stared at her hands, seeming mystified by the soft aura of energy coming from her. 

“This feels amazing,” she whispered, yet I could hear her as if she’d spoken at full volume. “I… it’s almost like I’m alive again… but better.”

“I’d like to go now,” Aara said, hurrying up to another side of the circular altar.

She began her vows, and I accepted them. The process was much the same, though I still had to remember my words carefully.

At the end, another threat connected my finger to Aara’s heart, while her robe was transformed as well. It too seemed as if it were the perfection of her fashion sense. The best possible outfit she could be given, radiating with magic as well.

For Sukura’s turn the process was slower. She, like I, needed to be careful to remember the words of the ancient Elven. We both lacked the familiarity of Ne’avo and Uké’el, as well as Aara’s apparent gift with languages.

For her, the new outfit was somewhat different from what she’d tended to wear. She’d kept to light traditional clothing of her homeland. It offered good maneuverability, but no real protection. The new clothing she gained was armour. Light, made of a material that struck me as somewhere between horn and plastic, and decorated in the same type of patterns she usually wore, but undoubtedly armour. 

She tested the weight of it, and any impacts on her speed. 

“It’s amazing,” she said, having run through a brief routine with her saber in hand. “It feels as safe and comforting as armour, yet also barely feels as if it’s there.”

“I… you know, that’s kind of how my outfit feels,” I said, looking down at the chainmail and fabric I’d awoken in when Loj had summoned me.

“Oooh. I want something like that,” Ne’avo said, hurrying up to the last quarter of the altar.

“Do you have all your lines memorized?” Aara asked.

“Of course. I—” she ended up looking at me, and froze up as she made eye contact. She then made a noise that I could only describe as the verbal equivalent of a keysmash.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

“Uh… m—maybe?” Ne’avo stammered.

“How is a woman as attractive as you such a disaster around other attractive women?” Aara asked, her voice clearly sounding bewildered.

Both Ne’avo and I blinked, before smiling to ourselves. She mumbled something too quietly for anyone to hear, but I was able to perfectly read her lips due to having the exact same thought: ‘I’m an attractive woman now’.

Which had to—was Ne’avo also trans?

Nah. She’d probably just had a makeover or… something like that. The odds of her also being trans had to be pretty minimal.

“I promise you, beloved goddess, my respect,” Uké’el said, having stepped off of the altar and walked around to Ne’avo’s side.

“Hm?” the elven woman replied.

“Repeat it, if you can’t remember. I will serve the priest’s role,” the other woman explained.

Ne’avo nodded. “Oh… yeah. That works.”

With assistance, Ne’avo worked her way through the oaths. She became a blushing mess at the end, which did nothing to help my own flustered feelings about the whole thing. Thankfully, Uké’el and Aara were both able to keep level heads, and feed us our lines. 

And then it was Ne’avo’s turn to flash with light. When hers subsided, she was standing before us in full plate armour, a glistening gold and black affair. A blue cloak flowed from her shoulders, while a golden laurel sat over her ears, like a Roman crown.

“Oooh. That looks good,” Aara said.

“Impressive,” Sukura added.

“Maybe a bit pointless, though, with your already unbreakable skin,” Uké’el pointed out.

“Pointless or not, it’s a very nice look… we just have to find you a kingdom or something, I guess,” I said, giving her another once over.

Ne’avo blushed, stammering something incomprehensible before she managed to find actual words. “I’m really not ki—queen material or anything. It’s fine.”

Not sure how to reply to that, I moved to the other topic on my mind. “I do wonder how long these strings are, though.”

“Strings?” Uké’el asked.

I lifted my hand, pointing at the ring finger now tied to each of them. “The ones between me and all of you.”

They all stared at my hand, Aara hurrying over to lightly sniff at my finger.

“There’s nothing there?” she said.

“Not that we mortals can see, anyhow,” Uké’el added.

“I can see them,” Ne’avo said, seeming surprised at the other’s confusion. “High priests have always had those too. I think they can stretch forever.”

“Ah. Good to know,” I replied, looking back at my finger. “But what do they do?”

“Presumably, they let you keep track of your champions,” Uké’el said.

I nodded, and went back to staring at them. It still felt so… so… unequal.