"Will this entity need to use words in this human language?"

"Yes."

"This entity is unlikely to produce an agreeable phrasing."

"I can write it for you. What are the desiderata it needs to include?"

"This entity's counterpart needs to be active again."

"There any nuances we're missing here?" she asks the Elf.

"He's not pretending to be worse at language than he is, he's actually really bad at it. He doesn't want her constrained - he could probably wish for her to be restricted but he's not going to come up with ideas - can't -"

Gem checks his emotional read.

Ridiculously strong. Not superhumanly so—the human-level emotions are only present in this avatar—but at the very top of what's humanly possible.

And she comes up with a suitably hobbling wording that will restore Eden to life without permitting her to do harm or direct or arrange others to do harm.

"Will this entity's counterpart return to its body?"

"Wishes work in this neighborhood. Resurrections usually provide a new body but I can work with the old one if you can bring it here."

"Its body is as large as this entity's."

"Which is how big?"

"Several times the size of your planet."

"Good to know. We'll have to relocate. Is there particular value to the old body being restored?"

"These entities' consciousnesses are spread among all shards."

"...what does that have to do with what I asked?"

"The entities' bodies are made up of their shards."

"And humans' consciousness is stored in our brains, but resurrection magic handles that. Do you prefer to have your counterpart restored in her original body rather than provided with a new one, and if so, why."

"This entity thinks it unlikely to matter."

"Okay." She puts them all in some nice spacious vacuum; purple magic contains air for talking. "You have your wording."

He repeats it.

And his wish is granted.

Eden has her own gravitational field. Scion looks at—her, it—and goes completely silent.