Back in the divine realm, Freya leaned back in her throne, tapping her fingers like she was bored and mildly irritated.
"You owe me, Cora," she said, her voice calm, but with an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.
Cora gulped. "I... I understand, Goddess Freya."
"No, you don't," Freya replied, raising an eyebrow so high it might have disappeared into her hairline. "Your punishment isn't just about you. It's... educational. Kind of like detention, but with immortal consequences and slightly more terrifying."
Cora shivered. "Detention with... death threats? Sounds fun!"
Freya waved her hand. Suddenly, Cora felt a tug in her chest, like her very soul had signed up for a rollercoaster without reading the safety rules. Her body trembled, but she couldn't scream—her voice had apparently been stolen for comedic effect.
"You," Freya said, leaning forward, "will be the invisible nanny-slash-guardian for the human whose life you almost snipped into oblivion. You will watch over her, guide her when she falters, and protect her from dangers she doesn't even know exist. And yes, you will learn humility. I personally will be monitoring your progress with, let's just say, zero patience."
Cora's eyes went wide. "Me? Watch her? But I... I can barely watch over my own socks!"
Freya's glare could probably power a small star. "Do not whine, Cora. Fail in this, and it will be way worse than losing your laundry privileges. I mean, life-death consequences, sweetie. Big leagues."
Cora nodded frantically, nearly falling over backward. "I... I will do it, Goddess. I won't fail her. I... I think."
Freya smirked, amused. "Oh, you will think. Mostly about how much you regret your life choices. Now go—observe. And try not to die from boredom while you're at it. Intervene only when necessary. Capiche?"
With a flash, Cora vanished—plopped into a hidden corner of Anita's new world like a slightly annoyed, invisible housecat.
From her unseen vantage point, she watched Anita waking up under Elowen's care, rubbing her head like she'd just banged it against every wall in existence. Cora sighed. "Great... human. Sleep-deprived, amnesiac, and probably about to make life choices that will send me to another version of hell. Fantastic."
Yet for the first time, Cora felt a weird tug in her chest—not pride, not curiosity, but... responsibility? Ugh. Gross. Emotional feelings were so annoying.