She had just returned from the human continent of Trammel. It was always a depressing event to return home after seeing the beauty that the world could contain, those sprawling forests, rushing rivers, magnificent mountains, laughing nobles gorging on limitless plates of exotic foods. Those nobles probably continued even now to gorge while she was looking out of her carriage window to see tragically thin children rummage through spilt trash bins in search of the smallest morsels.

This whole continent was a malignant wretch, a drowning grey of infertile lands and dying cities. It was this atmosphere that forced so many to relocate through the immersion and try their fate at the Dungeon of Ingress for even the slightest chance to experience some of Trammel’s resourceful splendor; blindly throwing yourself to that dungeon where a human could pointlessly hunt you down for no reason at any instant was deemed a better life than remaining on this desolate rock.

The woman finally had enough, she pulled her long flowing blond hair back and spoke to her chaperone. “Stop the carriage for a moment please.” Her voice was soft as honey, it carried a near hypnotic allure that enticed compliance.

Her lavishly adorned carriage stopped in the middle of this ruined street. She grabbed a handful of the confectionaries left out for those in the carriage; her hands being too full she used her tail to open the carriage door. The outside wind was cold blowing against her naked body; her slender and soft skin seemed to adamantly reject the dreariness of her surroundings. What really made her stand out was her near perfectly human appearance, the only thing stopping the villagers from fearing that they had just been invaded was her long scaled pink tail that ended in a sharp barbed spike.

Many of the mokoi partaking in their daily routines stopped to stare at the oddly beautiful stranger before them. She had grown used to having many eyes bearing down on her, grown used to having stares eat away at her being, devour what she was.

The children in the trash could not help but stop their fruitless task to stare at that detestably healthy creature that just exited the carriage. She turned to face the children and cracked a wonderous smile, she squatted down and revealed a bountiful harvest of delicious baked goods contained within her arms. “Children shouldn’t have to go hungry.”

The children could not even entertain their suspicion of the stranger as their stomachs guided them over where the enlarging crowd wolfed down as many of the foodstuffs as they possibly could. A few of the children unable to calm their shouting stomachs even tripped over their poor rags that they called clothes, the children ignored any scrapes or rashes they received from this and quickly joined the crowd to collect their share of food.

After the children all took the food the woman reentered the carriage and they began to move once more. This was the key to her drive; this was what she fought for: against.

The carriage crossed a massive heavily guarded bridge that lead into an unbelievable metropolis of activity and wealth. Plump well-dressed mokoi waddling across large well paved streets exchanging heavy coin for rare commodities. It was a truly sickening thing to think that this place was only separated from those starving children by a single bridge. She soon arrived at the castle.

The castle was an impossibly massive gothic structure filled with arches and spikes, three large clocks formed a clocktower that stretched up higher than any other spire displaying the time to the rest of the city; on particularly clear days one might even be able to see the clocks from the other side of the bridge opposite of the city. Many of the spikes erected from the castle were actually ramparts for avian-like mokoi to embark and disembark from the higher levels of the building. The woman wasted no time gawking at the superfluous contrast and began making her way to the throne room.

The main entrance to the building was incredibly large to accommodate mokoi of any size, each room within the castle was astronomically wide with a roof equally so. The rooms used to navigate up and down floors were completely different from those the humans used, there were a set of steep un-railed stairs for the few mokoi that had no movement options other than walking like this blond woman but the majority of the room was a large empty round hole with thousands of pegs and footholds dug into the walls. The blond woman’s body type was amongst the smallest minority of mokoi so although the building was designed to be very accommodating to many different mokoi types, the accommodations for her were few and far between; due to her humanoid body some areas were designed downright antagonistically against her style of movement.

Regardless, she made her way without complaint while ignoring all the stupid nobles that gawked at her passing by. As soon as the guards saw her, they immediately opened the large double doors to the throne room. A magnificent purple carpet led all the way down the massive hall leading to a large stone throne who’s back climbed up to the multiple story high ceiling that this room contained. She walked up to the center of the room and knelt before the throne and the creature that sat upon it.

She kept her head down staring at the floor as she spoke. “Colonel Arete of the Surrogate platoon reporting back on behalf of the Surrogate platoon as well as for the Primary Corps in the stead of General Zeal of the Primary Corps.”

The honey in her voice had let way to a strict formal tone dedicated purely to proper procedure and conformity. Though she spoke so beautifully so naturally before, in this moment too it seemed as if she had been born as a gruff military leader, this was her talent and was the key to her success.

Arete had always been like a chameleon able to adapt to any situation and any personality, her ability to conform to anyone’s wishes was her greatest strength and weakness.

The silence that filled the room was reply enough for her and so she continued on with her report. “The battle for the Arena of Yu has been concluded with an overwhelming victory for the Primary Corps. The director of the arena had caused some issues earlier in the battle but after negotiations he chose to remain neutral and the city was easily taken from the humans. With such, the mokoi army has a solid foothold within the sodality of rain. Negotiations for reinforcements from the Pleurothallidinae continue to be fruitless as they are adamant in not taking part in the war though they have begun skirmishes with the sodality of rain to take a few Islands in the pulchritudinous lake which has diverted some human attention. As for proceeding plans It had been decided that the fifth ground division and second aerial division would be sent to assist in the Heirisson theater, while the rest of the Primary Corps will begin pushing their forces towards Proselyte.”

She paused briefly to moisten her tired throat and organize the sprawling web of information in her mind. She had practiced this report a countless number of times before herself in a mirror. Each muscle movement carefully practiced, each word purposeful, detailed but not too informative. This little caution was a requirement when dealing with the creature that sat on the throne. She continued “Important developments within the human forces are that a freelance group of human adventurers called The Saviors have joined in on the Heirisson theater and have posed a large obstacle to our forces in every location that they have been positioned, hence the Primary Corps sending reinforcements. Also, the murugan squad had successfully subjugated that group of bandits that had been so conveniently distracting the human forces on the Heirisson theater; it seems that the bandit Sapphic has gone MIA and is considered to be dead while the other, Schlemiel, has been recruited as a member of the murugan squad. We believe that the loss of the powerful bandits Sapphic and Schlemiel’s many harassments of the enemy as well with Schlemiel integrating into the enemy army will dramatically affect the theater; outside of that, progress in the war is going smoothly.”

She stopped speaking again to catch her breath. Perhaps her audience had no need to hear the last part of the report, but she quickly got the uncontrollable urge to continue her dialogue. It felt as if sharp needles stabbed into her mind and used her grey matter as a thread to weave this narrative into a splendid cloth to display for her audience. “The Surrogate platoon has successfully integrated into Parapet island and we expect to have a comprehensive view of the inner workings of the Pangean Entente within two years. Tabulate Syndicate continues to be cooperative, but their communications have decreased significantly so we are currently reinvestigating to ensure that they have remained allies. We have also confirmed what the Whittler has claimed and it was the truth, the Masks have not received any new masks in twenty years which lines up with when he was asked to end communications before the war started. However, the Masks refuse to cooperate in any capacity regarding tactical espionage.”

The words spilled out of her mouth like she had just wretched out her dinner. A cacophony of details and specificities spoken to a degree she wished not to have shared. Her greatest weapon and key had been robbed and forced against her. Her throat had become sore from the endless soliloquy.

Since she entered this room, she had been the only individual to speak, the being before her never interjected or asked questions. Even now that she had finished her report it did not respond or make any sound for that matter. That creature’s calmness had always irritated her, its unending composure and arrogance. This creature could read others so well but even she who specialized in observation and manipulation didn’t even have the slightest clue of what the creature thought. Unsure of what was expected of her she looked up to the being.

The tall creature had two long thin legs that attributed to three fifths of its entire five-meter height. Those legs led to a large muscular body with seven thin arms, six of which sprouted out of a single point on the right of its body and the last arm from its left side. One arm held on to a massive black scythe nearly as tall as the creature and the scythe’s blade ended in an even longer red whip, another arm held a bell with the number four inscribed on it, Four arms were gently caressing a large red egg, its left arm casually rested on the armrest of the throne.

The creature wore a long gown of silver silk that dragged down to its ankles. Off the top of the creature’s body was a long neck that supported a large skull with three eye sockets and a long snout that ended with thick molar teeth that seemed capable of crushing anything: this was the mokoi khan. This ruler was known as the greatest existence of the mokoi, a being of absolute power and judgment. A guide that would cast light on the future and replenish this unorganized troupe of misfits into a group capable of ruling the world.

This was how most thought of the khan, as a khan. Arete knew better, it was not right to call this creature the mokoi khan, it was more akin to the mokoi itself. Its existence was the mokoi and the mokoi were it. It seeped into the minds and bodies of the entire continent. Deeply bounded by the soul sea this creature was everywhere and everyone. Even Arete in this very moment could feel that creature exerting itself within her mind, feel it at the tip of her fingers, pumping through her heart, brushing against her lips. She looked at herself on the throne, at the mokoi khan. The mokoi khan spoke. “Stand.”

That word as if it was a declaration of the future guided her body up.

“Come over here Arete.” Every syllable stung and crawled through her brain toying and dancing with her consciousness. It seemed as if the words themselves were the key to movement. She moved like a puppet who followed the command of their strings.

She walked over next to the throne until she was so close that her exposed bosom was practically pressed against the creature’s left arm. Since the khan was seated, they were at eye level. She stared at the being before her, but it looked down at the egg carefully held within its arms. The skull was flat and inmoving, even so it was obvious that it was smiling. It handed the egg over to Arete who cradled it with the utmost care in her arms.

She found it incredibly difficult to identify her own thoughts on the egg. The khan’s emotions were so powerful regarding the object that she could clearly feel it infecting her own mind but over the many decades she had spent a lot of time with the egg and perhaps even without the khan’s influence she would still love it. The mokoi khan spoke. “Like that egg you are something of the utmost importance to me.”

The Khan did not even acknowledge her report, the reason was obvious. It had already known everything. The report was merely a point of show for the populace, to placate their minds in the comfort that the Khan was actively participating in the war, to veil the lie that thoughts need be turned to words in its presence, they were unaware of how entrenched the khan’s influence truly was. The real purpose of the meeting would soon be revealed.

“I want to tell you to stay here, with the egg. I want to say that your work is over, that you can retire and stay under the protection of my amalgamation. But you are the key to winning this whole war, I have more that I need from you.”

The khan paused as a sadness washed over its hulking body. It took one of its free right arms and brushed it against Arete’s soft cheek. Even through its skull it was clear to see the turmoil and pain swimming through the khan’s mind. It must have spent many hours trying to find any other possible way to achieve its desires, but in the end, it did not choose a different way.

“I need the Surrogate platoon to infiltrate within the nobility of Bemean. I want you personally to get close to the Duke of Payola. I want the Duke to listen to you. I want you to infect him, your tongue will be his tendons, your fist his blade, your heart his toxin. Drag his soul into my ocean. Make it hollow so his body is but a suit for you to wear. Can I ask this of you?” The khan asked with a deep sorrow as if it was buried in guilt even though the question itself was non-existent.

Her mouth moved without her mind and she remained expressionless. Another task, another puppet. More strings tied around her fingers just to be funneled towards that khan. She was the craftsman that built the dolls but was denied the right to be the puppeteer. Instead she was but another one of those dolls.

The khan’s hand gingerly stroked her soft blond hair. Its empty eye sockets locked with her eyes. “I am sorry that I burden you with so much but once we do what must be done for the sake of all the mokoi I promise that the Duke will bleed an unending river which shall drown his children for eternity.”

The khan moved its head so that it rested on her bosom. Arete did not respond to the action but she did suddenly become aware of the strong breeze in the room, it made her wish that she had a choice to wear clothes. At least she thought it was the breeze that made her think that.

The mokoi khan spoke once again. “The day will come where the children will no longer need you to stop for them. The day will come when the mokoi can be free and healthy.”

They both stood still in that position without moving for a while. Arete had been planted like a tree. She was not even sure if the khan was aware of how it locked onto those around it. What was once a final weapon to push upon the dire and force the immediate had slowly over the years become a casual and near unconscious manipulation.

Perhaps the khan was aware, maybe the khan had come to terms with being the only being alive, it understood itself as a soul with many bodies and merely entertained the idea of individuality. Arete understood firsthand from both directions the intoxicating power of strings and the futility once one had been strung.

She had no plans of being someone else though, many of the khan’s strings had to flow through her before they translated from her to the khan. Even then it seemed that a few of those strings had started to walk away to an unknown source. If she could find that source, perhaps she could learn the key to unbinding herself. Arete’s inner thoughts were then interrupted by the intrusion of two more beings in the room.

The khan immediately launched off its throne maneuvering itself between Arete and the intruders and threw its arm holding the bell in front of itself. The khan rang the bell and the waves of sound seemed to wobble and twist the fabric of reality around it. As the reality destroying pulse traveled to its target it left a trail of distorted and torn space behind. It then collided with its target with no effect. The warped space between the two slowly began to untwist back to normal after a brief pause. The khan then noticed who the intruders were and dropped its poised arm.

“Ardor I didn’t expect you to be such a sentimental. A woman, a child, and is that bell a trophy?” The intruder who spoke began laughing while clutching her stomach. Arete looked at the two intruders. A tall and beautiful woman who looked not quite human but certainly not mokoi. She was completely white from her hair, to skin, to dress, to wide brimmed hat. The woman had a revolting clouded red eye and a white eye patch that was flipped up to reveal a disgusting sparkling blue eye that seemed deep like the ocean. That blue felt foreign on her body as if a borrowed tool which should be returned at some point. The red eye seemed unfocused while the blue eye incredibly so absorbed everything it gazed upon.

The other intruder was an old man who needed assistance from his cane and the arm of the white woman to support himself. The man too had sparkling blue eyes seemingly identical to the white woman’s. The only thing covering the man’s bald head was a yellow headband that ran across his forehead.

The mokoi khan spoke. “I have never seen a magical focus as powerful as this bell. It has value as a tool, I care not for trophies especially those of human organized events. And this is not my woman.”

The white woman nodded her head in understanding. While all mokoi would unanimously look at the khan as an untouchable prophet or parent of the realm, that white woman seemed to look at the khan as a misbehaving child.

The white woman spoke to the khan with understanding. “Yes, she too has value as a tool.”

Neither the khan nor Arete responded. Arete found that being called a tool by the white woman felt strangely uplifting, though the connotations were clearly negative, it showed that someone understood Arete for what she was. It rekindled the desire within Arete to eventually change her standing.

The white woman continued to speak. “So how has my little pet project been doing? I’ve noticed that you’ve been quite busy since I let you run free from your prison.”

“I am merely finishing what I had started nearly two thousand years ago.” The khan emphasized the time as if it was declaring its superiority over the white woman. The white woman contemplated for a few moments.

She walked over past the mokoi khan Ardor and towards Arete and halfheartedly took the egg with a single hand.

“Is that your answer, Ardor?” She asked Ardor while rolling around the egg in a bored curiosity. Arete wanted to stop the woman from grabbing the egg but the khan’s grip on her mind told her to stay perfectly still or else she might die. This tug on her string felt like the first in a long time that had been truly in her best interest. Arete could feel a palpable fear claim her, a fear nearly powerful enough to break the khan’s grip.

Ardor seemed concerned to see that egg so carelessly shaken about by the white woman, but Ardor did not act. The white woman spoke. “Even after all I have done for you this is what you amount to? This is how you choose to answer my question? I don’t like it, but I’ll accept it. There is merit in simplicity after all. As thanks for your answer I will give you something.”

The white woman turned around to face the khan. A crack appeared on the egg she held, a soft hand pushed through that crack, trying, struggling to break free from its crimson confines.

Ardor immediately ran over to the white woman and scooped the egg up caressing it with all seven arms and watched over the action with a mixture of concern and boundless love.

The white woman spoke. “With this we are no longer bound together, I am concluding our contract. Ardor…” The white woman stopped in the middle of her sentence, their seemed to have been the slightest hesitation but it was rapidly suppressed, she continued. “We will leave you with your daughter. Have this tool guide us to a room, the two of us plan on staying the night.”

The khan did not respond but Arete could feel the tug of the strings in her mind imploring her to show the guests out. Arete then guided the two strangers out of the throne room and led them through the castle. Arete had to stop by an office to procure two keys for the guest rooms they would be receiving. She then led the two to their first room.

It was a large room with a single poster bed, A gigantic wardrobe stood in a corner of the room and in the other corner there was a long iron desk that hugged the curve of the corner. The two strangers both entered the room before Arete even managed to introduce it to them.

The white woman and old man hugged each other deeply burying their faces into each other’s shoulders.

The white woman spoke through gritted teeth as she was clearly in great pain. “Thank you, I needed that.”

They released their hug, the white woman while carefully covering her eye flipped her white eyepatch down so that only the clouded red eye could be seen; meanwhile, the old man adjusted the yellow headband on his head. As if nothing had happened the two immediately made themselves comfortable. The white woman flopped down on the large soft poster bed, and the old man slowly made his way over to a chair that was placed next to a desk. He spun the chair so that it faced into the room and sat on it. He pulled out a thick booklet and quill and opened to a page.

The man waited with his pen at the ready. The white woman then spoke. “Is your back alright? Sometimes if you get an annoying weight on your chest your back has to make up for it.”

The old man began to scribble into his book. Arete was unsure of what to do, she assumed that the white woman was speaking to the old man, but it would be rude to leave the room in the middle of a conversation.

The white woman continued speaking. “I understand that. I get quite the back aches myself you know?” The white woman sat upright on the bed and gestured to her chest while laughing. “By the way I was curious, do you always dress like that?”

Arete had been steadily less certain as the white woman spoke, but she was sure now that the white woman was in fact speaking to her. Arete looked down to her naked body thinking of the white woman’s question. She wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but she seemed to have a deep scratch running across her bosom, perhaps it was from one of the sharp bones protruding from the khan’s head.

“Don’t think so deeply about it, it was just a joke. You almost have to feel bad for Ardor don’t you?”

The white woman jumped from varying topics as if continuing talking of Arete’s dress was never of any interest. The white woman slumped down and supported her head with a tired arm. She spoke again. “Do you think Ardor will be happy at the end?”

This time the question was not addressed to Arete. The old man stopped writing in his booklet and faced the white woman. The old man adjusted the yellow headband on his forehead. There was no other interaction than that, the man simply turned back to his booklet and continued to write.

The white woman moved her gaze back towards Arete. “You look awfully cold my child. It seems that Ardor really works you to the bone huh. What a meanie. I wonder if you would give me a different answer?”

Arete had no idea of what the white woman was speaking about. She spoke of the khan in an extremely familiar manner though. Arete didn’t think that she heard the Khan’s first name throughout her whole life as many times as she heard it from this white woman. Arete finally interjected. “Answer what?”

The white woman had a cheeky grin on her face when the question was posed. That smile scared Arete. “A parent is stronger than a khan don’t you think? And when you can only be one its best to be none I would say. Plus, I think you could sit much more comfortably on that throne.”

Arete was filled with a primal panic. This woman was speaking of treason right where the mokoi khan could hear. But when she thought that, she realized that she could not sense any of the khan within her. She could not feel any of those strings. Arete looked at the white woman with a newfound interest, she had found the source; Arete had found the key to her freedom.

“That annoying bridge separating the wealthy nobles from the rest of the mokoi is such an eyesore that I bet it is driving many of the mokoi mad. I would not be surprised if those mokoi ended up rising up and starting a revolution. But if they did that in four years that would be really bad since it might cause so much of a distraction that a wide-eyed little kid savior who joined the then invading humans could just walk right on in and kill the Khan. That would be a truly awful thing wouldn’t it?”

The white woman was speaking with so much concern, but her face was splattered with the largest most self-satisfied grin Arete had ever seen. This white woman was terrifying, but… “I’m not asking anything of you. You are but a key that opens a door. I simply ask you to think of what door you open. I too am a key, take the time to ponder over which door I open.”

Arete placed her soft hand over her stomach and thought deeply about the offer. After a few moments of thought she walked over to the wardrobe pulling out a spare coat that was left in there and put it on. Arete turned to the white woman. “ It would be horrible if all those things happened in four years time. I’m sure many would consider the year 3984 the darkest year for mokoi kind if that happened. I’m sorry miss I don’t think I introduced myself to you. I am Arete, co-leader of the…. mokoi surrogate revolutionary army.”

She stuck her hand out towards the white woman.

“I am the White Witch, co-leader of the mokoi surrogate revolutionary army.”

The White Witch took Arete’s hand.