Prelude: To Domathra (Isekai/LitRPG/OP MC)

Tara gazed down at the swirling pool of blood, though her mind told her not to. It was like when someone was horribly injured. She did not want to look, but she could not look away. Even stranger was the fact that it somehow supported her weight. She felt she would, at any moment, slide down into its viscous depths.

“Have a seat,” Nephthys bade, motioning across from her.

She already sat cross-legged, though she seemed to sit on the air rather than the blood. Why did Tara have to sit on the blood if she was not going to?

She plopped down against her better judgment, goosebumps crawling over her arms as the fluid seemed to form around her into a sort of chair shape. Something in her mind, some deep, primal instinct, screamed that the fluid was not normal and she should flee, but it was a very small instinct and easily overridden, like ignoring a bad smell.

“Why don’t you start from the top? Tell me what you remember from that night,” Nephthys offered, crossing her arms in front of her.

Tara wracked her brain, welcoming the distraction from the oddly solid liquid she sat on. Her memories were…not hazy, necessarily, more disorganized. She felt as though she could recall most things, but she had difficulty ordering them chronologically.

“How about when the Needle lit up? I am informed that it was quite the spectacle, visible throughout the whole city, yes? Where were you then, and what happened after?” Nephthys asked, likely reading Tara’s confusion, which was undoubtedly painted across her face.

“I was outside the inn. I was watching while leaning against the railing,” Tara recalled.

Nephthys made a “and then?” gesture, and Tara continued, thinking through her memories.

“I uh…I saw someone I recognized. Ended up following him,” Tara muttered, recalling that she did that in direct defiance of Nephthys’ request that she stay put.

“Who was it?” Nephthys asked.

Tara stared down at the swirling crimson, thoughts colliding in her mind. A moment of silence passed while she warred with herself, but Nephthys’ hands on her own brought her out of her spiral.

Nephthys had approached without notice and now gripped Tara’s hands in her own. She knelt before Tara, looking her in the eyes.

“You died, Tara,” she said quietly.

“I-what?” Tara replied, tilting her head.

“I don’t know what happened exactly, but Aka unsummoned, and when I arrived at her last location, there you were. You were on the ground, your skull so thoroughly smashed that it was difficult to recognize you. You died,” Nephthys explained.

Tara was tempted to laugh, felt it in the back of her throat, yet it never came. Nephthys stared so intently, so solemnly, into her eyes that she felt it would be disrespectful. Clearly, Nephthys believed what she was saying.

“I’m not dead,” Tara blurted, scarcely able to even process what was happening anymore.

“Indeed,” Nephthys said, rising and gesturing down at the roiling blood below. “That is why we are here, upon the Altar of Truth. You died, but it was not me who brought you back.

“I tried. I tried with all my might, but I could not return your already departed soul to your body. It is thanks only to Truth that you live, that your soul was returned,” Nephthys explained.

She paced as she spoke, but now she stopped before Tara, staring down at her, the crimson glow dying her face an eerie shade.

“But Truth did not save you, specifically. It was Her existence that saved you, nothing more. It was an alignment of cosmic circumstances that will not happen again,” Nephthys declared.

Tara’s back became damp with sweat as Nephthys gazed at her with such intensity. She was beginning to wonder if it was she or Nephthys who had lost her mind.

“My Lady would certainly not involve Herself in a matter so small, least of all interfere with a Prime God’s governance over His domain,” spoke a man.

He rose from the center of the pool of blood, towering over Nephthys and her both. He wore a ragged robe, and a black blindfold covered his eyes.

“Do you mind?” Nephthys said with a sigh, turning slightly to cast a withering gaze upon him.

The man glanced around the room, shrugging.

“I cannot leave this room. What would you have me do? Stand in a corner—” he started.

“Yes,” Nephthys interrupted.

The two stared at each other for a few moments, the man’s mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Eventually, with another shrug, he stalked off the Altar, moving across to the far side of the room, where he stood with his arms crossed, staring at the wall. He seemed unbothered by the fact that the domed room possessed no actual corners to stand in.

Nephthys exhaled, staring up at the ceiling for several long seconds.

“We haven’t been very forward with each other, have we?” she asked.

“How do you mean?” Tara replied.

Nephthys returned her gaze to Tara. It was much softer than moments ago, and she approached to take her former place, once again kneeling in front of Tara so that they were eye-to-eye.

“I care about you, Tara, a lot,” Nephthys said suddenly.

Tara looked down at the blood below, her cheeks heating from the sudden sincerity. She resisted the urge to squirm in place.

“You’re far more than a student to me, more like family,” Nephthys said, pausing for a moment. “When I saw you lying there, your corpse growing cold…” she trailed off.

Tara glanced up and was shocked to find tears running down Nephthys’ cheeks. She froze, her mind going blank.

“I want you to rely on me, Tara. I want to help you. If you’re laughing, I want to laugh with you. If you’re struggling, I want to struggle with you. I want us to be a team. Does that sound alright to you?” she asked gently.

Tara sat quietly, a plethora of thoughts and emotions running through her mind. Unease, embarrassment, happiness, anxiety, and nearly every emotion on the spectrum bounced within her skull. Eventually, she nodded, spurred not by any specific thought or emotion, but by the warmth she felt in her chest when she thought of having a family again.

Nephthys smiled, scooting forward to sit beside Tara. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, and the two sat in companionable silence for a few pleasant, if awkward, moments.

“Will you tell me who the man you followed was?” Nephthys finally asked.

“He…was one of the men who took me,” Tara squeaked.

“Took you? From your parents?”

“From my d-father. Mom died when I was little.”

“I see,” Nephthys said, putting her hand on Tara’s back. “Why did he take you? How?”

Tara shook a bit, but she inhaled deeply and kept going.

“My father was injured on the way here, to Ashreach. We were broke, so we couldn’t afford to get his leg fixed. It healed, but it healed wrong, and he was always in pain. He started with ale, but eventually, even that wouldn’t numb it…” she explained.

“Ah, I see. He found dirt, then?” Nephthys asked.

Tara nodded, taking a few more minutes to collect herself.

“Toward the end, he barely even lived in the real world. I started hiding any coins that happened to drop because they’d become a bag of dirt when I wasn’t looking. We were starving, but he was so far gone that he didn’t even notice.

“I don’t know whether he was approached with an offer or if he stumbled into it himself, but he sold me for a handful of coins and a bag of dirt up front. The last thing he said to me was that we would ‘be together again soon’, and I don’t doubt that he did see whatever ideal family existed in his dirt dreams shortly after,” Tara finished, spitting the last bits of her story.

Nephthys stared at the blood floor for several long moments, and Tara used that time to calm herself. She was breathing hard, her temper rising as she told her story, reliving it.

“So, the man you followed is one of the men who took you from your father. What happened next?” Nephthys finally asked.

“I only remember him imitating a guard and breaking into a home during the riots to try to capture another kid. I…I kinda lost it, to be honest. 

“I used my transformation and whalloped him. I think I…he was definitely at least unconscious, and I only stopped because someone was attacking Aka. That’s where my memory ends,” Tara explained, feeling slightly relieved, both to get her story out and to piece her fragmented memories back together.

“I see. I believe I have enough to tie a ribbon around the rest. The man Aka fought was an agent from Sardvend, working to quell the rebellion. He likely happened to see you beating on someone he thought was a guard, and he attempted to intercept you.

“Aka got to him first, and they fought. However, you stepped in the middle of it, and he killed you with a single strike to the head. The instant you died, Aka was unsummoned, which is when I was alerted. 

“I arrived moments later to find you dead on the ground, the Sardvend agent standing over your corpse, shocked. He likely thought you were an animal or something due to your transformation, so finding that he had just killed a child was likely quite a surprise,” Nephthys finished.

Tara gulped, wiping sweat from her brow. The reality that she had actually died was slowly setting in, and a new sort of dread was beginning to work its way into her mind. What did it even mean to die? She was here, now, still alive…

“Well, a harrowing end to a harrowing tale, I suppose,” Nephthys finally said with a shrug.

To Tara’s surprise, she rose to her feet, stretching.

“Why don’t you go get something to eat? We’ve been down here for quite a while, and if you aim to return to Myra’s soon, you’ll want to be fully rested. He will not go easy on you,” she said.

“Am…I’m not…in trouble?” Tara asked, tentative.

“In trouble? You were dead,” Nephthys deadpanned.

“Well, yeah, but…I didn’t call you. I left the inn…” she responded, and briefly, she wondered why she was pressing the issue when Nephthys did not seem interested in doing so herself.

“And you died for it. I hope that’s a suitable punishment for you. I don’t know if I can be creative enough to come up with anything more severe,” Nephthys said, shaking her head. “Now, go on. Eat, rest, recuperate. If it’s punishment you crave, Myra will undoubtedly provide.”

Tara rose, turning around and exiting the creepy room with light steps. She felt relieved, like a weight she had not realized she was carrying had left her shoulders.

It also just felt good to leave the pool of blood behind.

————————————

“Surprising! You are quite soft, mistress!” Akhenaton called from across the room.

“You can stop shouting and come back over here. You’re a real diva sometimes,” Nephthys called, rolling her eyes.

“Do you not worry that she will repeat her mistakes without a heavier hand?” he asked, approaching to stand next to Nephthys.

“I will worry no matter the approach. The only thing I know for sure is that if I were a teenager, I would push back against a firm hand, no matter the intentions behind it. 

“I think helping her recognize the consequences of her actions on her own will be better for her than attempting to force them down her throat. It will be a slow process, though. She is only fourteen,” Nephthys replied, chills running down her spine at the reminder of how young Tara still was and all she had already been through.

“Well, it will be interesting to watch, at least,” Akhenaton said idly.

Nephthys turned, affixing him with a small smile.

“You will have no time to watch. You are about to become very busy.”

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