The girl on the other side of the table was Demi’s perfect double—almost down to the last eyelash—with very few exceptions. Rather than chestnut brown, the goddess’s absurdly long, curly hair was a milky jade color, each strand almost luminous in the way it caught and reflected the light. She also appeared to have golden antlers, the points curling above her head in a natural crown. Her ephemeral, diaphanous dress flowed over her in soft layers, shimmering in variable hues of green as iridescent as a beetle’s carapace or the plumage of a kingfisher.
It definitely looks like the kind of thing a goddess might wear, Demi reflected.
She was garlanded in pink roses, cool with the blush of life, and several butterflies and moths fanned their wings in her hair like living ornaments.
The person sitting across the table from her looked positively divine.
And that was apparently because she was, or at least, so she had explained.
And yet, even with all of the divinity—the golden antlers, cascade of roses, and jeweled butterflies—the resemblance was uncanny.
It’s like looking at a palette swap, Demi thought to herself.
It was quite a lot to take in.
Demi’s own interior mental deliberation society, the Council of Demi, a membership of various facets of herself who generally convened to unanimously agree with her, were once again in full agreement.
“Secret Twin Sister?!” read one sign held up by an industrious member. “Magic Twin Sister?!” read another. The members conferred quickly and returned with “Secret Magic Twin Sister!!!”
Demi tapped a finger against her cheek.
“Let’s go through this again,” she said, faintly exasperated. “I need to make sure I’ve got all of the pieces in place.”
The self-proclaimed goddess gave a positively angelic smile and fluttered her hand to indicate that Demi ought to continue.
It wasn’t only their outward appearance that made them seem nearly identical. Their physical mannerisms were also echoes of one another. They both had hands like live birds, always in motion as they spoke, but never frenetic, never sharp. There was also a kind of wistfulness in their grace, like scattering cherry blossoms.
“You’re Hollyhope, the Goddess of the Harvest,” Demi noted, keeping her eyes focused on her other half.
“Pimpom!” Hollyhope chimed, and then brought a dainty hand to her mouth. “Ehee hee, for the peoples of this world who practice agriculture, I am indeed the Goddess of the Harvest. But for eeeeeeeeveryone who lives, from velvety dormice to spongy fungus to the great ferene trees to all of my little ones, the archaebiota, I am the Goddess of Life.”
She looked to Demi like she ought to be riding in the back of a convertible during a parade, or offering very loopy autographs while appearing at a handshake event with a line that wrapped around the building.
“Aha ha,” Demi laughed weakly. “I’m sure the archaebiota appreciate your divine protection, and the, um, ‘ferene trees.’” Thus far, the Goddess of Life had given Demi the general impression that she was sweet and well-meaning, but maybe, perhaps, possibly? A little bit scatterbrained.
Ah, in this situation, it’s hard to admit that people sometimes think the same thing about me, she thought to herself.
“You’re Hollyhope, the Goddess of Life and the Harvest,” Demi corrected patiently, raising the index fingers on both of her hands and bringing them together in front of herself. “And now we’re both sitting together, if I am not mistaken, in a small house in the divine realm?”
“Pimpom!” the goddess chimed, and began politely clapping, although whether she was clapping for Demi or for herself was entirely unclear. “Although you shouldn’t say ‘the’ divine realm. You should say ‘a’ divine realm, because there are many many, many many many, many many many many, many realms. Some are so close together that they’re directly connected, and some are very very far apart. But that’s really beside the point,” she said with another winsome smile, tilting her head to the side. The very air around her seemed to shimmer with her general presence every time she smiled. She clapped her hands together and then swayed back and forth in place. “This is my weekend getaway cottage! Isn’t it cute? I designed and decorated it allllllllll myself.”
Demi had to admit, the goddess was factually correct on that point. The cottage was very cute, and as a connoisseur of cute things, Demi felt well qualified in making that assessment. This room alone was full to bursting with cozy furnishings and other charming decor. All of the furniture was solid wood, oiled and polished until it gleamed in the warm light. The wood of these familiar household articles was beautifully carved, showcasing small woodland animals, flowers, and grains, and the surfaces that weren’t carved were painted in the fashion of toleware, with a motif of pink roses and clover. The throw pillows in the comfortable-looking Morris chairs had ribbon embroidery. There was a patchwork quilt hanging on the wall, and a braided rag rug on the floor.
As if to multiply the already astonishing power level of this adorable room, there were two cats asleep on the overstuffed needlepoint pillows and a very small golden kitten asleep in a basket filled with neatly rolled balls of candy-colored yarn.
This cottage was definitely a place that Demi would rank high on her list of possible vacation destinations, most particularly because this place was practically bursting with books: on every shelf, in every nook and corner, and even piled in less expected spots, like on top of the refrigerator.
If there was any single thing that might have qualified this place as a divine realm in Demi’s estimation, then it was, without question, the superabundance of books.
It was taking every ounce of Demi’s self-control to keep from leaping up and beginning a thorough investigation of every book on the premises.
(She had already performed a cursory examination when she had first arrived and then a secondary one some time after that. She wasn’t made of stone.)
But despite the powerful allure of the books, Demi felt that it was her responsibility to keep them on track. If she didn’t, then Hollyhope was likely to meander off into further rosy digressions about traditional cultural handicrafts or the growing seasons of her favorite flowers.
(Complete with illustrations the goddess provided on a magical whiteboard she had introduced for this specific purpose.)
“And so I can be certain that I am not misunderstanding anything, let me confirm,” Demi continued, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “We’re no longer on Earth.”
“Pimpom! Ehee hee. It’s more correct to say that we’re on one of many worlds called ‘Earth,’ just not the one where you originated!” Hollyhope cheerfully explained, motioning toward the whiteboard, which showed a drawing of a terrestrial planet. “The people of this place still call it ‘earth’ in their own language, a word that means both the land where they live and the soil underfoot. That’s actually relatively common across realms, on terrestrial planets where sentient life originates. It can be a little different on ocean-dominated planets where sentient life is aquatic, and of course it’s different among space-faring peoples who settle multiple planets. Calling every single one of them ‘earth’ would be confusing,” she pointed out sensibly, a single finger raised for emphasis. She was still exuding her “sense of being an idol” and smiling her beatific smile.
It was honestly healing to look at her, even if their conversation about Very Important Details was somewhat roundabout as a result of her personality.
“So as I understand it, at this moment, we are on a different planet,” Demi began cautiously.
“Pimpom! Or mostly pimpom? Technically pimpom?” Hollyhope answered, tilting her head quizzically. She got to her feet daintily and caught hold of the corner of the whiteboard and flipped it over, pointing at an illustration of a subtly different terrestrial planet. “This is not the planet where you originated, that is correct, but it’s a little more complicated than that.” She began to sway back and forth on her feet, humming, and then turned to flip the whiteboard over again.
The first time she had done this and revealed entirely new illustrations, Demi had applauded, as if she were at a magician’s stage show. Caught up in the moment, Hollyhope had also begun applauding, as if she were both audience and exhibitor at the same time. Both then and now she gave the impression of being an idol presenting prizes on a variety show.
“You wouldn’t be able to find this place on a star map, even if you were a member of a type-three civilization,” Hollyhope said, pointing at a simplified diagram of a barred spiral galaxy. Then she turned back to face Demi and raised a slender finger to her lips and tapped on them thoughtfully. “Of course, it is possible to open a gate between realms if you have sufficient energy and understanding. I think it would be possible for your people in the future, particularly if you were to cooperate with dragons.” She laughed again lightly. “Of course it’s possible to forge a connection between realms,” she pointed out. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to summon you, and yet here~ you~ are~!”
“Ehee hee,” Demi echoed, tilting her head to the side and smiling. “It seems you have me there!”
The two of them smiled peacefully at one another, the space in their general vicinity practically trembling with the power of their combined ultracute sparkling idol energy. They both seemed carefree, and yet totally content.
But on the inside, Demi’s mind had been thrown into overdrive yet again.
It wasn’t the first time that Hollyhope had used a fantasy-sounding word in her roundabout explanation of the situation at hand, but the words “dragon” and “summon” were particularly powerful ones.
This was, without question, a game-based world.