KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

Naomi Phillips stared at the ornate ceiling of her quarters and wondered how a cage could be so beautifully decorated.

The room was luxurious by any reasonable standard. Silk hangings in warm amber and gold covered walls of polished volcanic stone. A writing desk of dark wood held crystal inkwells and fine parchment. The bed was large enough for three people, covered in furs that probably cost more than most people earned in a year.

It was also a prison.

"For your own safety," the temple guards had said when they'd escorted her here after Ashley's treatment. "The city can be dangerous for strangers, especially those traveling with the famous Thornslayer."

The door was unlocked, technically. But when Naomi had tried to leave earlier, she'd found two guards stationed in the hallway, their polite smiles as immovable as their crystal-tipped spears.

She rolled off the bed and moved to the window, pressing her palms against the warm glass. The view overlooked an internal courtyard where robed figures moved between buildings like ants following invisible trails. The Eternal Flame rose in the distance, a pillar of golden fire that never dimmed, never wavered.

And never stopped interfering with her abilities.

Naomi closed her eyes and reached for her Shadow Vault, the familiar darkness that had been her tool and weapon since awakening her powers. Instead of the cool embrace of shadows, she felt... nothing. The radiant energy from the Eternal Flame pressed against her consciousness like sunlight against closed eyelids, washing out every trace of darkness she tried to grasp.

In their world, Naomi's abilities were what kept her relevant, what made her valuable. Shadow Vault gave her access to information, resources, escape routes. Without it, she was just another pretty face with a sharp tongue and flexible morals.

But Naomi had been more than her powers long before she'd awakened them.

She'd been Nessa, too.

Working the crowds at the Golden Fox, reading the subtle tells that revealed a customer's wealth and desperation, knowing exactly which smile would earn the biggest tips and which words would extract the most information. Nessa had survived in Vykengard through wit and observation, not supernatural abilities.

Time to remember those lessons.

Naomi moved to her wardrobe and selected a simple dress in soft blue, the kind of garment a well-treated servant might wear. She braided her purple hair into a practical style and added a silver hair clip.

The guards barely glanced at her when she emerged from her room carrying a small basket.

"Just visiting the patient," she said with a smile that suggested gratitude and just a hint of flirtation. "The healers said she might like some fruit."

The older guard nodded absently. "Don't stay too long. She needs rest."

Naomi's smile widened. "Of course."

Ashley's room was three doors down, and Naomi slipped inside without ceremony. Her friend looked pale but alert, sitting up in bed while a blue-haired girl arranged medical supplies nearby.

"Naomi," Ashley said, relief evident in her voice.

"Hey there, princess." Naomi set her basket on the side table and studied Ashley's face. The golden fractures were gone, but her friend looked hollow, like a house with all the furniture removed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone reached into my chest and rearranged my organs." Ashley's smile was weak but genuine. "This is Margaret—I mean, Margot. She's been taking care of me."

Naomi turned to the blue-haired girl, taking in her subdued manner and careful movements.

"Well, well," Naomi said softly. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Margot's eyes widened, then filled with tears. She moved forward impulsively, wrapping Naomi in a hug that smelled of herbs and vanilla. "I was starting to think I imagined you all."

"Sadly, we're very real." Naomi returned the embrace. "Though I'm guessing life here hasn't been exactly comfortable for any of us."

"You could say that." Margot pulled back, wiping her eyes. "I've been Margot the healer's apprentice for two years, according to everyone's memories and now right hand to Selene Flameheart. Ashley's been poked and prodded by scholar-priests who think she's a fascinating specimen. And you?"

"Honored guest in the world's most comfortable jail cell." Naomi moved to the window. "My abilities are completely suppressed by whatever that flame is pumping out. I feel like I'm trying to grasp shadows underwater."

"The Eternal Flame dampens Essentia," Margot said. "It's supposed to be protective, but it feels more like control to me."

Naomi nodded, her mind already working. "So we're all effectively powerless, separated from Xavier, and under constant observation. They're definitely not planning to let us leave anytime soon."

"The scholars want to study my broken Covenant," Ashley said. "Apparently, I'm a rare specimen of psychic corruption."

"And I'm stuck in apprentice duties until Agna let's me come back." Margot's expression darkened. "Though I've been learning interesting things. Temple gossip is surprisingly informative when people think you're not important enough to matter."

Naomi's smile was sharp as a blade. "Now that sounds promising. What kind of gossip?"

"The kind that involves sealed archives and family secrets," Margot said. "The kind that might explain why we're really here."

She moved closer, lowering her voice. "Two of the junior acolytes were talking yesterday. Something about the High Burner's sister—Lady Selene's mother. She died five years ago, but apparently, Torval spent months in the sealed archives afterward, researching something."

"Researching what?" Ashley asked.

"That's the interesting part." Margot's eyes gleamed. "One of them said he wasn't looking for historical records. He was looking for a way to reverse a mistake."

Naomi felt puzzle pieces clicking into place in her mind. "A mistake that happened five years ago. Right around the time Lady Selene would have been... what, fourteen? Fifteen?"

"About the age when Essentia abilities typically manifest," Ashley said slowly.

"Or when something goes wrong with them," Margot added. "The acolyte seemed nervous talking about it. Like it was something people weren't supposed to know."

Naomi moved back to the window, her gaze focusing on the temple's lower levels where stone passages disappeared into volcanic bedrock. Somewhere down there were archives that might hold answers. Information that could explain their presence here, the nature of this world, maybe even the mysterious Heart of Winter.

All she had to do was get to them.

"How well do you know the temple layout?" she asked Margot.

"Pretty well. Why?"

"Because I may not have my shadows anymore, but I've got something else. Something I learned from a very talented hostess named Nessa."

She turned back to her friends, her purple hair catching the golden light from the flame-sconces. "I know how to make people want to tell me their secrets."

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Same way information brokers have been doing it for centuries," Naomi said. "Silver coins, friendly smiles, and the fine art of being exactly where people least expect you to be listening."

The three young women looked at each other. Objectively speaking, they were trapped, powerless, and under constant surveillance.

But they were also underestimated. And in Naomi's experience, that was often the most dangerous position of all.