I stood waiting at the top of the beach, a gentle ocean breeze blowing my hair to my left and ruffling my white tunic. It was twilight now. I was the brightest light source, my passive mana-derived glow subtly shifting in the same manner as the eddies in the mana that formed my shields.

I bet that timing, twilight settling in as the landing boat reached shore, wasn't a coincidence. I imagined them being anxious about approaching, making the decision only when they would run out of light for the journey if they waited any longer, and smiled to myself.

How relatable. I wasn't the only one prone to waiting for the last moment. Yes, I just compared nearly a millennium of procrastination to a few hours, what of it? Time works differently for me.

I inspected the sailors as they climbed out of the landing craft. None were mages, although it was clearly only a subset of the crew. There appeared to be ten grunts who had manned the oars, an officer (the captain?), and lastly, by far the oldest present, gray and wrinkled but still robust, was a...chaplain?

I sighed internally, closing my eyes briefly to recover my resolve. He was wearing black clothing embroidered with white fire rings and lightning bolts, underneath a transparent veil hanging from his shoulders to his ankles, made of a reflective silvery material that glinted in response to my glow. He was transfixed on me, eyes wide and glassy, mouth slightly open. I had been recognized, or at least strongly suspected, by a deadly-serious member of our apparently extant fan club.

As much as I approved of how well his robes had captured the Izena-Menelyn complementary sister goddesses aesthetic...you can't be serious. We had not yet said a word to each other, and I already felt pressured and awkward. This was going to be exhausting.

I'll try, sister.

In terms of religious reverence making me uncomfortable, the others weren't much better. As they approached, the grunts stole glances at me and the shielded birds, but mostly looked at the ground, then hung back with their hands clasped respectfully near their waists once the party was closer to me, standing in place while shifting their weight uncomfortably. The officer walked a little further, and swallowed repeatedly while looking between me and the chaplain, who came closest.

"Welcome to my home," I opened, my voice a soft soprano, trying to maintain as smooth and calm a tone as possible, to reassure them, and to match their expectations. "My name is Menelyn. What brings you here? Do you have any who need healing?"

There was a mix of sharp breaths, widened eyes, more deeply bowed heads, foot shuffling, and nervous glances. My name had been recognized.

"Justice and Salvation," the chaplain breathed. It was not pronounced quite right, as if by a non-native speaker. It had the sense of an oft-repeated religious utterance or exclamation.

...I choose to believe that they came up with that independently. If its source was someone overhearing Izena and I teasing each other, but taking it seriously, then I don't want to know.

The chaplain recovered enough to speak, still with pronunciation slightly odd. "My companions do not speak much Middle Ezentic, but those of this one's order study the Goddesses' language to fluency. This one hopes to be understandable."

'Middle' Ezentic? Ah, language has evolved in the last millennium. What was once a widely spoken language across much of the world is now purely, um, liturgical, apparently.

My language is liturgical...somehow that little fact made me feel even more awkward regarding the whole deification thing than I had in a long time. I really do understand Azenum and Izena's points about accepting this position, but this feeling that I'm duping people will always linger a bit, I think.

Izena had said, "Just do what you can do, be yourself, and if they need to call that person a goddess, fine...Be the goddess they need you to be." Alright. I'll try. It's just another way of helping.

Well, if they had any lingering uncertainty about the identity of the glowy woman whom they'd discovered on this remote island, her offering a greeting in their liturgical language probably had contributed to dispelling it.

"You speak it well," I said, and was rewarded with an ecstatic smile. "It has been a long time since I have been able to speak with anyone. Please, there is no need to use 'this one.' It would make me happy if you speak to me as you would to anyone."

"I understand," he said, after steeling himself. "Please forgive me, but I wish to confirm: You are the White Goddess Menelyn?"

And here it is, the critical question, bringing a rush of butterflies. I'm not about to throw my resolve away now. If these people wish to, need to assign me the goddess title, then I will accept it, for their sakes, and simply do what I can do. I quickly considered many ways to hedge or qualify my answer, and decided against them. I won't claim the title, but I won't deny it if they assign it to me.

"Yes." I will embrace it. "I have been living on this island for nearly a millennium. Any who are peaceful are welcome, but I wish to know: what brings you here?"

The chaplain relayed what I had said to the others.

They had many more questions, I could tell, but at last they answered mine.

"We sailed from Rokesha, intending to trade at ports to the south," the chaplain said. "But we encountered...monsters of the ocean, odd ones, headed north, and were forced to flee. Out to sea, west, was the only direction in which escape was possible, and they pursued us until turning around shortly after the lookout spotted what I believe was Your Light over the horizon. There are some on our ship who could use healing, but they are stable. The captain," he gestured to the officer, "was forced to act decisively. We threw our cargo and many of our provisions overboard in order to aid our escape, so we hope to find replacements on Your Island."

This was one of the possibilities that I had anticipated.

"I understand your situation. Let us go to the injured immediately, unless you object. I can provide drinking water while we are there, and will fill empty containers if you have them," I offered. "You may collect fruits from the island--carefully--but please do not harm the birds." Only now did I drop their shields, having stated the rule. "I will not tolerate any attempt to harm them."

When he spoke to his companions, he must have started with my warning, since all immediately nodded fervently, some making sounds of assent.

In a single motion, I constructed a solidified mana vehicle large enough for two, consisting of a bench, floor, and guard rail. Mana solidification can't make anything much larger than this, being subject to the same intrinsic arms-length range limitation as most white magic spells, and the mana needing to remain connected to the caster.

"Please come with me to translate. And, I wish to continue our conversation on the way," I said to the chaplain. "My apologies to the others, especially the captain, but it would be difficult for them to fit, and I expect the captain will prefer to remain with his men, anyway. They may wish to head to the center of the island, at the base of the cliff visible there." I drew in more mana to make my light bright enough to reveal the cliff in the distance despite twilight having progressed to night, and pointed. "You will find a pool of my mana there. It may be rejuvenating, and they are welcome to it."

Aside from the chaplain, they hadn't the faintest clue what I was talking about while manipulating my light, both to make the vehicle and reveal the cliff. All were utterly dumbstruck. One was crouching, hands on his head, some were on their knees, and others stood motionless. The chaplain blinked stupidly for a few seconds, then translated for their benefit.

The captain nodded his assent while intoning, "Juzdiss en Selvezhun." His pronunciation was much less practiced than the chaplain's. Then, he collected his charges at the entrance to my forest. I waved goodbye, and indicated once again, with gestures, that they were welcome to walk into the forest as they pleased.

The chaplain reverently boarded my solid light vehicle, stepping lightly as if afraid firm contact would defile it.

"What is your name?" I asked him. The poor man was thoroughly overwhelmed. His hands waved around, unsure whether to press to his heart, go to the sides of his head, or rest at his sides.

"The Goddess is even more radiant than the records say," he whispered. He shook his head in wonder as he sat gingerly on the bench. Shuddering a breath then swallowing, he replied, "My name is Dekel."

"My powers have grown over the centuries, Dekel," I admitted.

I sealed off the entrance, then levitated away from the island, toward the waiting ship. He was seated about as far from me as possible, trying not to act too familiar, but in practice it gave the impression that he thought I smelled bad. My self-cleaning spells made that quite impossible. I smiled at the situation and waved my hand to indicate that he needn't be shy.

"It is obvious why the monsters avoided this area," he agreed while hesitantly resettling, then he tutted. "The ship's captain is named Seffed. I am sorry for forgetting to introduce him earlier. We are both native to Rokesha, this ship's home port. You and the Black Goddess Izena are both venerated there. All believed that You had made of Yourselves a Sacrifice to restore peace, and specifically, protect our city. And we remember too your father, Azenum the Unifier. When the city hears the news, I cannot even imagine the carnival."

He hesitated before continuing, "I must ask, does the Black Goddess also live? Is She elsewhere?"

I swallowed, teeth clenched, and braced myself. There was a little bit of acid, and my eyes misted.

"I see," said Dekel, graciously sparing me from saying the words. "This one is sorry to recall such a tragedy. Your family's mutual love is known and serves as a model to all."

Good.

"I couldn't protect them," I managed to confess in a reasonably steady voice, a few tears falling. "But that has changed. As I am now, no harm can come to anyone who can see my light."

"I believe it," Dekel said solemnly. "We all do."