Dekel introduced me first to the crew aboard the ship, then reassured them about my...episode by explaining that it had been an expression of grief and mourning for my sacrificed sister goddess, triggered by our discussion of history. They accepted this solemnly, uttering many reverential approximations of "Justice and Salvation."

The most serious injuries that I needed to heal were on the level of broken ankles and wrists caused by falls during the ship's escape. This was apparently grounds for worship. I guessed it was impressive to someone who had never seen legitimate white magic before, but my standards were a bit distorted. How would they react to resurrection?

It was time to move on to the water issue. They had thrown all containers overboard during the escape, and the limitations of mana solidification--the object needs to be in contact with me, and within roughly one arm length--limited my distribution options. I decided that my best option was to make a large vat complete with spigots. I was more sympathetic to the general reaction to this display than the one to my healing. I would have struggled to make a solidified mana construct this large, and with the degree of fine detail required for functional spigots, before my training on the island. The actual purification of the salt water was as trivial as ever, though.

Seriously, people, this is like week 6 of white mage training. Sure, I'm purifying a large volume and carefully leaving the right mineral content to avoid the unpleasantness of literally pure water, but the core act of turning ocean water into drinking water is as trivial as it gets. The standards these days are awful.

Hm. I've been doing it multiple times per day for 943 years. Have I lost touch?

In any case, despite it being night during this period, the ship's deck was well-lit. By me.

At last, everything aboard the ship was handled, and it was time to return to the island to collect some fruits and the shore party. And, I needed to say farewell to my bird friends. The world was in desperate need of its designated Goddess. I would need to leave them whether I was ready or not; such innocent creatures cannot and should not be taken to a world of...whatever is happening on the mainland.

The birds clustered around me as I landed back on the beach, much as when I had arrived 943 years prior. I went through all those present, one by one, running my fingers where I knew each liked their scritches best. Most preferred the crown of their heads.

"Goodbye Karoo, goodbye Hammer. Awwww, Sixtail, don't be mean to Gukguk. I'll get to you, too."

It took a long time, since they kept streaming in. Finally, it was time to go.

For 943 years, they and their ancestors had been my...Therapists? Companions? Teachers?

"Thank you all for teaching me how to be content. To be peaceful. For listening to me when I needed to talk. For keeping me sane, or not too insane at lea-. Tch. Gukguk! I'm being serious, stop laughing at me!"

Well...

"Thank you for helping me not be too serious, you goofy balls of fluff."

Time to get the crew. The birds followed me along my centuries-sculpted forest paths as I lit the way.

Since I'd spent a long time with the birds, Dekel was already with the crew at the pool that held my materialized mana when I arrived. They were arranged as if he had been leading a prayer. All were staring silently at the radiant liquid, transfixed. I had to admit, it did look very sacred. That was why I had added it to my Sacred Peaceful Garden masterpiece, after all. As I walked up behind them, they turned and lowered their heads.

"Are you ready to leave for Rokesha? Will you be able to row and sail if I light the way? Or would you prefer to wait for dawn?" I asked them collectively, although of course only Dekel understood.

"We are," he replied, looking up. "And yes, it is not necessary to wait for dawn. Rokesha may be in danger." He glanced at the captain. "I have informed Seffed of my suspicions."

Then, he half-turned and gestured to the pool, now behind him.

"This is Your Mana? Your Essence? The fuel of Your Miracles?" he asked.

"It is, in a way," I replied. "It's how it appears when I will it to take physical form. In its natural state, it is immaterial."

To demonstrate its connection to me, I walked barefoot just inside the pool's edge to ankle depth, and squeeeezed so that a stream fell from my extended right palm into the mana already present. Falling as if slightly resistant to gravity, it merged with the surface soundlessly, without splashing, until I cut it off after a few moments. That effortless stream display would have rendered my Academy instructors speechless. Then, eyes closing, I moved both arms so that my elbows were slightly away from my sides, hands extended up and in front of me, palms toward my face, and willed some of the liquid light to ascend and wrap around me in a loose web of thin tendrils.

My straight silver hair, just shy of waist length, fluttered to my left in the nighttime breeze, and my iconic white tunic followed suit. Combined with my glow, the pool in the background, sculpted tropical forest all around, gossamer tendrils surrounding me, and the context of this display of power, it must have been an image beyond imagining for the believers behind me. They unanimously dropped to their knees.

I waited, toying with my flows. This kind of thing is important. It is part of the job they've assigned me. I do not do half-measures.

Dekel spoke finally, voice shaking as tears continued streaming down his face, "Truly, truly, You are Menelyn, Salvation, returned to us. Thank You."

At this point, I'm morbidly curious what it will be like the first time I am witnessed resurrecting someone.

I have already resolved to embrace it, play the role to the extent that I can. My father was right: it helps people cope. Izena was right: if we consistently answer their most sincere prayers by means that seem miraculous, then are the believers even wrong, in any meaningful way?

It was time to return to the world.