Chapter Text
Ever since knowing about the mage’s fate, she found herself constantly in her space. Making sure she was alright, that she didn’t exhaust herself, she was even sometimes volunteering to cook for her, despite hating it. The mage accepted the help gracefully, despite that she could see, but chose to ignore, the way her shoulders sagged, the sadness present in her crimson eyes.
The mage admitted one night not telling her sooner, because she knew the black mage was getting attached. She didn’t want to cause her to be sad. But it was much too late for that, now.
Suddenly, time flew past them, much faster than she would like. Despite the fact she wanted to enjoy each and every moment with the mage, committing to memory every time she smiled, or how the sun would catch in her eyes, in her hair, how the moon and stars shone in her eyes when she looked up at them.
How was it fair, for her to die? Why did she have to meet her? Why did she have to care for her? The Goddess of Life was so good, and she was just supposed to let her reach her end?
In this world? To be alone again?
No. She refused. She would find a way. A way to cheat death, a way to buy her some more time, so that they could be together.
If even one person remembered the mage’s True Name, the very first one she got, the name she had when she was granted immortality… It must be enough.
It had to.
While hanging out with the mage, she made it her mission to scour every page of every book (and the mage’s) for any kind of information concerning who the mage was, when she was mortal. She knew she had lived a long life, she considered the black mage somewhat young, after all. But so far, every book, note and scribbles turned up empty.
If there was one positive thing that came out of this, was that, despite everything, it brought them closer. The mage was now openly affectionate, taking her hand for every little reason, snuggling with her when she was trying to read, hugged her from behind when she was doing tasks that required standing (like cooking). She had to admit that she, too, was more affectionate with the mage.
Despite the fact she sometimes used her True Name for chores.
Every other night, they would find themselves laying down in the flower field and just talk, about the stars, the moon, about their pasts, about life. About everything. She confessed that she didn’t quite know what to do next, that her research was proving to be naught. Suggested leaving for a bit, to search other sources, but the mage made a face, and she understood without her needing to voice her thoughts.
The mage might be gone by the time she came back.
They bathed in the nearby lake, playing in the water like teenagers again. Went for midday strolls through the woods, their tasks forgotten for the moment. Ate each other’s food, though lately it was made by both of them when she had enough of the minuscule kitchen in the mage’s house, and she used her magic to change it.
It took three tries. The mage had very specific demands.
Now, another winter passed. Another come and gone, that she didn’t see because she had her nose in her books. How many has it been since the mage told her she didn’t have much time left? Seven? Eight?
A decade, more? She didn’t have much time left.
And it showed. The mage was paler with each season, her red eyes, that had been so vibrant before, taking on a faded shade after a long day, her porcelain skin sometimes cold to the touch, and not just because of the cold air. The color of her hair also seemed more tern, muted.
She hated it.
“Takina.”
The quiet, sleepy voice of the mage pulled her out of her thoughts as she looked up from the book she was reading, finding the mage standing beside her as she was presently resting on the newly installed hammock, and the blonde was wrapped in a blanket, sniffling, with her eyes closed.
“Yes?”
Without voicing what she wanted, the mage instead decided to crawl in the hammock with her, very nearly sending her flying over as it swayed dangerously from side to side.
“Hey- Watch it!”
“Cold,” the mage was muttering under her breath as she curled up on her lap and tucked her cold nose in the crook of her neck, still wrapped in the blanket. “So cold…”
“Well, it is winter, after all…”
“Hm…”
A shiver shook the mage’s frame then as she shifted a little more to be comfortable, the hammock still swaying a little, but soon, a content sigh sounded from the crook of her neck, and she couldn’t help but shake her head, a smile pulling her lips as the mage let out a cute, content sound. But it was short-lived, as it was one more proof of how little time the mage had left.
Extending a hand in front of her, she summoned her cape, the soft fabric instantly touching her hand, and she covered both of them with it, hoping it would keep the mage nice and warm while she returned to her reading. Soon, she could feel the slow, soft breaths against her throat, and she gently, distractedly, rubbed a hand along her back, over the blanket and cape.
The sun was setting when she closed the book with a defeated sigh, the last one they had held no information whatsoever. She really needed to broaden her search, but…
She didn’t want to part with the mage. Not now. They were both running out of time, but watching her slowly wither and wilt like this… It was torture.
Discarding the book under her legs for now, she stared at the sky, slowly getting covered by clouds as she held the bundle that was the mage a little closer. Looked like there was going to be one more cold night, one more snowfall before winter would totally leave them.
Before falling to despair, she pressed her cheek on top of the faded blonde hair, and closed her eyes, poking her foot from the hammock to give a little shove to the nearest tree and make them swing, gently.
After a good nap and a good, hearty meal, the mage would always find some colors, some life back to her. Maybe it was why she was still here, after all, why she was still as mobile as she was, because she already had that habit before it became dire.
For now, she kept the fire fed while both of them were sitting on the ground, the mage behind her and brushing her hair, the blonde always marveling at how long and soft it was. She always let her style her hair afterwards, just happy to be here with her, happy to hear her voice as she would chatter about anything and everything, happy to hear her laugh when she would make a mistake or fail what she wanted to do.
Today, it seemed the mage had decided it would be a fishtail braid, and she kept her eyes closed, never really minding the pulling, appreciating the rhythm of it, the way the mage’s fingers would sometimes brush against her skin.
A soft, warm touch at the base of her nape always indicated that the mage was finished, and today was no exception… What was different, though, was that there was another, just a little to the side.
A kiss?
A hot breath against her neck preceded the same soft and warm touch against the base of it, and it made her heart thump in her chest, her eyes going wide. All this time, she had been kissing her to signal she was finished? Why didn’t she pick it up before now?
… And why was the mage kissing her shoulder, now, leaving a trail of kisses from her nape?
Turning her head to look over her shoulder, swallowing thickly as, again, nervousness made her guts twist and writhe, she met the mage’s eyes for a moment, and the look in her crimson eyes was enough to make her heart start pounding in her chest.
Before she could even put a name on what she was seeing in her eyes, the mage lightly touched her chin, gently guided her closer, and just like that, their lips found each other, slow, gentle, delicate.
A kiss. When was the last time she did that?
And yet, it was as if it was her first time all over again, her heart ramming against her ribcage when the mage kissed her again, still cupping her chin, and after kicking some senses into her, she turned around, kneeling in front of her. Cupped her cheek properly, and with reverence, with all the devotion she could muster, kissed her again. And again. And again, the mage’s breaths against her lips addicting.
Sometime later, she found herself with her head resting on top of the mage’s chest, distantly feeling her fingers combing through her long hair that came undone a while ago, both of them staring at the flames in the hearth.
“I can hardly hear your heart beating,” she noted after several long minutes of comfortable silence.
For only response, a kiss was pressed against the top of her head, and it made her smile, briefly.
“Why now?”
“Why now what?” The mage asked, her fingers never stopping combing the long, black hair.
“Why kiss me now?” She asked again, straightening her head so she could look up at her.
The crimson eyes darted away, clearly avoiding hers. She could read the guilt in them as plain as day.
“I wanted to. I guess it was rather selfish of me, huh? When I’m so close to the end…”
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s the truth,” the mage retorted. It wasn’t refuting, she was stating a fact. “But, knowing that my life will go to you… I’m not scared to see it end. I know you will take care of my soul.”
“I don’t-”
“Takina,” the mage interrupted, this time meeting her eyes frankly. “My only regret is that I couldn’t spend more time with you. I lived a very long life. I did the best I could, and I found love near the end. I’m satisfied the way it is.”
“But I’m not ready,” she couldn’t help but say, a lump slowly but surely forming in her throat.
The mage gently cupped her cheek with a soft smile, affection filling her eyes, and when her thumb rubbed her cheek, she leaned into the touch, pressing a hand over hers.
“You have a very gentle heart, for one who handles death.”
“If I find your True Name…”
“But I will be gone soon,” the mage reminded, furrowing her pale brows. “You won’t have time-”
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted as she moved.
Kneeling beside her lover, now, and gathering magic to the palm of her hand, she made it hover over the blonde head she had grown so fond of over the short centuries of her stay here. Instantly, the mage’s eyes closed, and she fell limp into her waiting hands, as she gathered her in her arms and carried her to her bed, where she laid her down delicately.
“Sleep, beloved. I will find your True Name, and we will be together until my end.”
She pressed a kiss against her forehead, and it steeled her decision, her devotion. It was her mission, now. She will scour and search to the ends of the world until she found what she was looking for. Putting the mage to sleep will definitely buy her some more time to do so.
For the first time of her life, she was determined to save someone. She had enough of grieving the people she loved.
Deciding to begin her search in the large cities, with bigger libraries, would be best, she landed in a back alley, quickly putting on a glamour that would fit this era’s style of clothes, and dispelling the invisibility’s spell she put on herself while traveling. It was a long flight, and she could feel the start of fatigue gather in her shoulders, but she couldn’t afford dallying.
So she went to the streets, and mixed in with the crowd that was rending the sidewalks extremely busy.
After so long living in this peaceful isolation, the sounds of the city were deafening; the incessant chatter, the cars speeding by, the honking, the nearby construction site… She was at a bit of a loss. The tall, enormous building standing around her and seemingly touching the sky were definitely an eyesore, even more when the sun was mirrored a hundred and a thousand times against the windows, like stars shining in broad daylight.
Like it was mocking her.
She grew tired so quickly of them.
This was her sixth city. Time went by quickly, between her travel and her searches, but she was fairly sure she would feel it if someone like the mage, an immortal, would pass. For now, as she made her approach to one of the libraries she had spotted, she could feel the detached, disembodied pulls in several different directions, people in pain, in suffering.
“I hate this…”
It was nothing new to her, though. Bigger cities meant more people, and in turn, it meant more chance to feel this unpleasant pulling and knowing she could do nothing about it.
One was particularly strong as she made her way closer to the library. From outside, she observed it, seeing it had several floors, and the pull was coming from one of the upper floors.
No matter, anyway. She didn’t have the time for distractions.
She entered and went to the counter, waiting for one of the librarians. She knew what she was looking for; ancient mythology, Gods and Goddesses of life from one of the extinguished civilisations. From what she had gathered through the mage’s notes, she was actually way older than she first gave her credit for.
A woman spotted her from a distance, and taped the shoulder of another one, signaling there was someone waiting. In a hurried pace, the second woman made her way closer, juggling with the pile of books she was carrying over.
“If you can give me just one mome-”
As soon as the woman’s eyes landed on her, she froze, the books she had been carrying landing at her feet with a loud ‘thump’, and it made her arch a single eyebrow as she looked back up at the woman, curiously, now.
“Shi-Shinigami…” The woman murmured as she was backing away, fear plain in her face and beads of sweat forming even to the named eye.
It made the black mage perk up in surprise; this was the most recent name the mortals had given her. So this woman could see her for what she truly was.
“So you have The Sight,” she only said, calmly. “Then, knowing what I am, will you lend me your assistance? You will be amply rewarded.”
The librarian, who had backed away so far that her back was now against the wall, tilted her head curiously, but was still visibly shaking.
It was a wonder she was the only patron and the other woman she had seen was gone for now.
“’Rewarded’?” The woman repeated in a small voice. “What kind of reward?”
“Anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Do not waste my time, mortal,” she growled, starting to get impatient. “If I say ‘anything’, I mean it.”
“Why would you need my help, demon?” The librarian asked after a second.
Brushing past the insult to instead explain what she was looking for, the woman blinked, completely and utterly at a loss as to why the Goddess of Death would decide to suddenly dive into the history of mythology and folklore.
“Section J, East Wing,” the librarian finally let out, even pointing a finger in that direction.
“You have my thanks,” she didn’t forget to say, even bowed her head a fraction.
It was rare indeed in this time and age for a mortal to have The Sight, she couldn’t help but wonder as she was paging through the books on the shelves. It used to be a common occurrence, when magic used to be a bigger part of the world, and demons and monsters roamed the world.
After two weeks of frantic search, the librarian came to her, her hands clasped together and visibly shaking, but she was standing here still. She had a brave heart, indeed.
“What are you looking for, precisely?”
“I’m looking for a name,” she answered distractedly as she was flipping a page over. “A Goddess of Life, from long ago.”
“Well, we have some depictions of old Gods, if you’d like,” the librarian offered with a trembling voice. “They are pictures of the actual depictions that were unearthed, but we have them still.”
“Fine,” she sighed, slamming the book shut. “Show me.”
Rubbing her eyes tiredly as she followed the woman through the large library, she shortly wondered how long it would take her to find the mage’s name… If she ever did. She was reading day and night without pause, combing through every book, notes and magazines, using her invisibility spells to keep going during the night when the libraries closed just so she could get information as fast as she could…
And yet so far, she learned nothing. Not even a crumb of lead. And with every week that passed, her heart would grow heavy in her chest, wondering if she would ever wake the mage again… Or if she would still be there when she got back.
“Here we are.”
Her attention was brought back as the librarian was leading her through some kind of showroom, with the pictures of the depictions illuminated by spotlights and held up on stands. The pictures were separated by culture, kind and mythology, and they walked in front of a couple rows of them as she looked around, distractedly.
"Goddess of Life, you said?" The librarian mused, bringing a hand to her chin and rubbing thoughtfully. “It should be around the back, I think.”
As the woman started to speak again, going into an explanation of their choice of sorting, the black mage caught something in the corner of her eye, a flash of red that made her disengage the conversation and turn her full attention to it, as the color always did to her while they were still passing another row of depictions.
She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening, as a soft gasp escaped her lips.
It was extremely old, faded to almost nothing, but she could still recognise the short, blonde bob of hair, and the two, ruby-red eyes from the depiction. The figure was also sporting robes that looked akin to the one the mage always wore.
“A problem?” The librarian’s voice wormed its way into her ear, pulling her attention away.
“It’s her,” she let out in a breath, stepping closer to it. “The Goddess I’m looking for.”
“But… Didn’t you say she was a Goddess of Life?” The librarian said, confused. “This one is a Goddess of War.”
“Of War?” The black mage repeated, turning to her. Then, she shook her head. It didn’t matter. She knew who to look for, now. “This one, who is this?”
“Unknown, sadly. We only have this depiction. I could refer to you some books, or maybe even some libraries that could have more information about-”
“Yes, please,” she couldn’t help but plead. Finally, after all this time, a lead! “Anything that could help.”
“A thousand thanks,” she was saying, the hand-written note about the book she was looking for clutched tightly in her hand. “Now, for your reward.”
“It’s… my son.”
Ah, she instantly sighed internally. She should have known. The scent of grief and loss clung strongly to the woman’s frame, thick. It must be quite recent.
“Apologies,” she decided to cut it short. “If you are going to ask for me to resuscitate your son, I’m afraid I cannot. I may be the Goddess of Death, but the dead shall remain undisturbed when they cross over, lest I break the balance. Let him rest.”
“He’s not-” The woman interrupted herself when her voice climbed high. The subject was definitely a sensitive one. “He hasn’t passed, yet. But he has a fever. He’s been so sick, and not even the doctors know why. They… They told me he was going to die.”
“It is the natural cycle of life.”
“But he’s only a child!” The librarian argued, her eyes welling up. “He didn’t even get to experience the world, how is that fair?”
As she stared at the woman, stoic, the last of her sentence echoed inside her, familiar to a conversation she already had. It wasn’t about a child, back then, merely an animal, and yet, the mage had been so adamant about it.
It was a life taken too soon. An unfair death.
“Very well. Show me to your son.”
“R-really?” The woman asked, relief, this time, making her eyes overflow with tears.
“I will do what I can,” she said, just so the librarian could quell her expectations. “I am no Goddess of Life, after all.”
Still, the librarian nodded and quickly went to the back of the library, the black mage following in tow. Soon, they found themselves in an elevator, riding up to the highest floor, where the librarian’s home was situated.
Upon her entry, a man that must be the husband stood from his chair, and he looked confused. She could sense he could see her in some way, but not completely. Not quite The Sight, but he definitely had something.
Without a word to him, though, the woman instantly went to a nearby hallway, and she followed, the disembodied pull in her chest becoming stronger and stronger. This child was in terrible pain, if it was as strong as this…
“Here,” the librarian stopped near an opened door, gesturing inside.
When she entered, her eyes flitted around. The room was large, brightly lit, and generally tidy, despite one corner being full of toys and figurines on a bookshelf. Near it, a small desk, with drawings pinned to the wall. An artist, maybe?
Weak coughing brought her attention back to the bed, and in it, she saw a young boy, about six or seven years of age. His skin was clammy and pale from the strong fever, bags darkened the space under his eyes and left them hollow. His face seemed emaciated, a little; he probably didn’t have the strength to eat much.
She could feel the woman’s eyes on her from the door, soon joined by the man, as she stood there beside the bed, observing the child. His eyes opened slowly, with visible difficulty, and without fear, he looked up at her.
Beings near death always saw her in her true form. For some, she came like a demon in the night. To others, she was seen as a helping hand, waiting to guide them over to cross the veil. In this case, she was apparently seen as the latter.
Pulling the chair from the desk to set it beside the bed, she took a seat, under the boy’s tired watch. She didn’t mean to frighten him, after all, and standing right beside the bed might be seen as scary.
As she sat, she could see the numerous cards, held slightly open, that crowded the large windowsill. She could recognise the neat cursive of an adult pen, but there were a lot of small, hesitant, chicken-scratch handwriting of children. The boy’s friends, probably, wishing for him a prompt return to good health.
Speaking directly into the mind of the boy to avoid the adult’s interruption, she locked eyes with the soft brown of the boy’s.
“Are you afraid, child?”
He slightly shook his head, blinking tiredly, and she leaned closer, planting her elbows on her knees.
“You are very sick. Little can help you, now. You know that, right?”
The boy’s eyes darted down for a second and she saw him swallow with difficulty, and he gave a slow, short nod.
“Do you wish to live?”
The boy’s eyes were back on her, burning with fervor, now. He did wish to live. Ardently.
It made her huff, the corner of her lips curling up. Such a strong presence for a child at death’s door… She was impressed.
“Very well,” she murmured.
Bringing a hand up and over the boy, she gauged the child’s condition. She did have some healing magic, but it was mostly for herself, to heal wounds from battle and such… But of course, this boy’s sickness was beyond her abilities.
She wasn’t sure the mage could have done anything either, in this situation.
So, remembering how the mage had done it before, she went and reached for a fragment of her soul from within herself, and gifted it to the boy, painlessly. Her soul glowed in a dark shade of purple, similar to the poisonous nightshade, and yet in this situation, it was to heal.
Under all of their eyes, the boy’s skin got some colors back, his fever was gone, and he even got enough energy to sit in bed, staring at his hands with an incredulous look.
As the parents ran into the room to hug the child, she stood from her chair and gave them some space, observing the scene from a distance. With a small smile on her lips, she wondered if the mage would be proud of her for what she did, here.
“Kind and merciful Shinigami,” the librarian’s voice caught her attention, and she looked back to see the endless gratitude written all over her face, as she walked over to take her hands, without fear. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you, but… Thank you. You will always have my gratitude.”
“You can thank the Goddess of Life, for teaching me a lesson,” she retorted with a smile.
“The Goddess of Life?” The librarian repeated. “The one you are looking for?”
She bowed her head in confirmation, but pulled her hands away from the woman’s. She already dallied too long, here.
“Raise your son well. May he have a good life. And tell him that I will wait for the stories of his life, when finally he will come to me when his time comes.”
Before the woman could answer, she turned away, going back to the elevator. She needed to go, needed to get back on track. Now that she had a lead, she needed to stay on track.
Flipping a page over, the black mage felt her eyes widening before, reverently, with the tips of her fingers, she touched the page in front of her, at the image depicted there.
“There you are…”
Finally. She had found it.
It had been even more difficult to find her, since she had started out as a Goddess of War, and then eventually traded her weapons for healing and rebuilding, turning towards a nurturing nature to her magic. It had taken years upon years of relentless search, but after all this time, she had it.
The mage’s True Name.
She had confirmed it several times, now. It was it. With this in hand… Surely it would work. If only one person could remember her name, and not just any name…
But, she wasn’t mortal. Would it really work? Well, she might not be mortal, but she was a being of incredible power. It had to count for something!
So, with that knowledge in hand, she returned to the place she called home, with the person that made it a home with her. She had to still be sleeping. She had to.
When she landed in the clearing, the flower field was all withered, the flowers wilted and hanging their heads, but it didn’t matter. Even if the mage couldn’t anymore, then she would create another flower field. Taking the path that led to the house, it was sinuous, hard to navigate after so long without care, without anyone that walked on it, but it was fine. She would tend to it soon.
The mage’s house was in ruins, now, one wall completely crumbled down. The gardens were barren, overrun with weeds as nature claimed them back, but it was fine. They could always rebuild, make another garden. She would do it herself, if the mage couldn’t.
Finally, she entered the ruins of the house, and a terrible weight was lifted from her shoulders and chest when she found her lover exactly where she left her; safe from any danger in the barrier she put up, the mage was still peacefully sleeping, tucked in bed, under blankets and the black as night cape.
Clearing the debris near the mage and dispelling the barrier, she took a seat on the edge of the bed, observing her lover for a moment. Her skin already had some colors back and the shine in her hair was the same as when she first met her.
She felt sorry for how long it took her to recover the mage’s True Name, but… She could have told her that she used to be a Goddess of War!
No matter, though.
Dispelling the sleeping spell, she leaned over, brushing back the bangs that fell right into the mage’s eyes as she could see her starting to stir from her slumber.
“Wake up… Chisato.”
The crimson eyes that she missed for so long snapped open, and she smiled when she noticed they had found their vivid color again as they locked with hers. The mage seemed to be speechless for a second, but she took this opportunity to cup her cheek, rubbing a soothing thumb over her skin.
She had missed her so much.
“You…” The mage started, her voice rough from the deep, long slumber she was in, before clearing her throat and trying again. “Takina, you found it… I can’t believe…”
“It took some effort,” she admitted with a chuckle, her eyes welling up from the sheer relief of seeing her well, hearing her voice again. “You could have made the search simple by telling me more about your past, though.”
“S-sorry…”
Chuckling again, she leaned down, and pressed kisses over the mage’s forehead, eyes, tip of the nose, and finally finished with a proper kiss on the lips, one that the mage was quick to respond to, before she wrapped her arms around her, holding her close as she let a few of those tears fall, staining the pillows.
“Chisato,” she murmured right in her ear, relief making her tremble as she held her lover. She didn’t know what else to say. She was just so glad to be with her again, and now, they would be together for the rest of their lives.
“Takina,” the mage responded, just as quietly. In the dilapidated home, the blonde pulled her closer, for her to lay down beside her, and for a moment, nothing else mattered as they could lock their eyes together, pressing their foreheads together. “Thank you for finding me in time.”
For only answer, she tightened her hold around the mage and buried her nose in her hair, and for now, nothing else mattered.
Bonus Epilogue!
Leaning back against a beached tree trunk, she was admiring the beautiful scenery of the sunset reflected on the still, calm lake, surrounded by the forest and framed by the mountains. In all of her long life, she didn’t think she ever took the time to sit and enjoy the view before coming here.
A soft sigh drew her attention down to her lap, and she smiled, delicately petting the blonde head that rested there. The mage looked so peaceful in her sleep, content and happy.
In her search for her True Name, the black mage learned a lot of things about her from the time she was a Goddess of War. The countless battles, the bloody battlefields, the toll of deaths, so much blood that it tainted soil and rivers… Legend said it was the reason behind her blood-red eyes. Depictions of her showed her with a stranger’s face, fierce, ugly with scorn and fury as her eyes burned.
But here, as she was resting in her lover’s lap, she was finally laid at peace, subdued of all her rage. She wondered why she changed. Maybe she grew tired of the battles. The black mage could understand; as a Goddess of Death, she had earned her place on the battlefield, and even she grew tired of them.
As she was watching her, the mage, still lost in slumber, smiled. It was short-lived, but it was relaxed, carefree. Beautiful.
It made her wonder what she was dreaming about.
She had walked across this world through eons, watched civilizations rise and fall, tasted all the food and wine it had to offer… And yet, right now, she realised something crucial. Carefully taking the mage’s hand in hers, she brought it to her lips, pressing a loving kiss against the back of it, eyes closed, as it made the mage nuzzle her stomach sleepily.
A being like her, a black mage, a Goddess of Death…
And in this moment, she finally knew peace.