A waft of smoke rose from Matsumi’s hands as she fled the scene.

‘What was that?!’ she couldn’t help but complain in her mind.

She was a Knight and she had been matched so easily against a Journeyman. A Mishala heir, to be sure, but a Journeyman still. The light that flooded out of Yuriko’s body had a kinetic aspect and it pushed her away. If not for her Ennoia, she wouldn’t have been able to easily escape.

As it were, she could feel someone following her. Her eyes searched the area even as she ran out of the campus. Once she was in a suitable place, on the rooftops of a civil building, she waited. A couple of minutes later, a man clad similarly in the shadows, landed in front of her.

He held out a hand with a single finger raised.

“That’s one. Your only chance. Any more and we will reciprocate in turn.”

Matsumi snorted in annoyance. She’d failed, that meant she wouldn’t be paid. She’d also have to report to her client. Ah well. She nodded to the man, and after a moment, he snorted in both amusement and derision before leaving.

Matsumi’s knees gave way as she relaxed. She fell in a heap and leaned against the bannister while staring at the Chaos streams above. The Mishalas were rotting strange. At least he didn’t demand that she give up the name of her employer. Breaking the contract would ruin her.

________

The shadows in her bedroom had eyes. Yuriko could feel it. Staring at her. Watching her every movement. Will they take her now? Or will she burn them until nothing is left? The shadowy figure reached out with its dusky claws, over her neck as she slept. And slowly closed up her, tightening ever so slightly.

“Ahh!”

Yuriko woke up with a scream as she sat upright. Her Anima flared to its full scope, illuminating her wide bed and the side tables. There was nothing there. Nothing.

“Young mistress!” Ryoko ran to her bedside and knelt by her side. Her eyes swam with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh…” Yuriko swiped her forehead which was slick with sweat. Her nightgown was damp and clung to her skin. “Just a nightmare.”

She breathed, taking control of her frantically beating heart. Deep slow breaths eventually washed away her panic. Her eyes darted about her room, in her manor in Aerule Garden. False dawn lit the skies outside, softly illuminating the room.

She looked at Ryoko strangely. The woman wasn’t in her nightclothes but was in full attendant’s uniform.

“Don’t you sleep at all?”

Ryoko blinked. “Of course, my lady. When time permits.”

Yuriko shuddered as she felt chills run down her back. The glazed look was behind Ryoko’s eyes, too. It was small and easy to miss, but it was there. She tossed off her covers and staggered to her feet, heading straight to the bathroom.

Ryoko hurried to aid her in her morning ablutions and Yuriko sighed and didn’t protest. They wouldn’t leave her even if she ordered it.

She and Miya arrived in Aerule in the small hours of the morning, maybe a couple of hours ago. Yuriko had slept in the landcrafter when it became clear that they wouldn’t be taking the Sky Trams. Her cousin asked her what happened and after she finished her tale, Miya frowned.

“A Shadow Stalker?” she muttered. “A mercenary for sure. Hired to take you.” Miya shrugged. “About time, really.”

Yuriko’s whirling thoughts froze. “About…time?”

Miya looked at her with a smirk, “What, you think we can endlessly tease people our own age without consequences? Of course, those we reject or ignore will build up desire and resentment in equal measure. It’s hardly their fault that we affect them so.”

“It is our Mien that forces them to…” Yuriko spluttered.

Obey? Desire? She wasn’t sure. She had neither seen nor heard anyone in the clan give a command that was genuinely harmful to the listener. At least, she thought musingly, nothing she’d directly seen. When Mum rescued her from the Pure Lands, what did she do to the pirates?

Mentally shrugging, she continued. “Our Mien is the one that affects them. It’s our fault.”

“It is not,” Miya said expressively. “Unless I order someone to love me, their emotions are their own. What they do in reaction to it is their choice. Not mine.”

“You can order someone to love you?” Yuriko gasped, fixating on the words.

“Well, not yet,” Miya tittered.

“You’ve distracted me,” Yuriko muttered. “What did you mean about time? Do you mean the attempt was something expected?”

“Of course. Hmm, about a couple of years ago, someone did the same to me. And, well, I’m not as good a warrior as I am now and they succeeded.”

“What happened?” Yuriko gasped.

“Well, now I toy with Jonarius whenever I want,” Miya smirked. At Yuriko’s incredulous look she continued. “Unlike you, what happened was something I was warned about when I first started to control my Mien. And besides, we’re in no real danger. Our proximity with the Progenitor assures it.”

“Oh. Is this…all a game to you?”

Miya looked down her nose at her then snorted. “We’ve been in a game ever since we’re born, dear cousin.”

And with those chilling words, the two of them settled to silence. About an hour later, a messenger crane came through the window.

“Miss Yuriko Mishala,

I hope this finds you well. I was surprised when you disappeared from the dance without even saying goodbye, but I heard from Denise Harold and Claire Lawson that something happened near the ladies’ room. Please write back that you are safe, and if you don’t reply, I will assume that the worst has happened.

I will not rest until you are returned safe and those responsible punished. If you are not the one reading this missive, know that whoever you are, you face my wrath.

Finan Conail Agalmar.”

The words in the second paragraph looked like they were written by someone else, given how jagged the edges of the words were. Why, some parts were even torn, and it was a minor miracle how the crane managed flight at all.

“Oh, interesting,” Miya said while reading over her shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got the makings of a…”

“Don’t say it,” Yuriko growled. She wrote down,

“I’m safe and returning home. Be at peace. -Yuriko Mishala Davar.”

Afterwards, she filled the runescript nodes with her Animus and let the messenger crane fly back to Finan.

By the time Ryoko had finished bathing and dressing Yuriko, Saki arrived in the room with breakfast and a note from her Mum.

“Stay home for now. I’ll deal with it.” The words were practically burned into the paper.

“Leave me be,” Yuriko said to her attendants after she finished eating. “I will meditate.”

“By your leave.” The two curtsied.

She spent most of the morning calming herself from the unpleasant memories. She tried not to dwell on it, but the thought that she had been helpless for long enough for someone to kill her, and the only reason she wasn’t dead was that someone paid the assailant to cart her away to someone who …

The thought disgusted her more than anything else and drove home the point how weak she was. Seasons surviving in the wilderness and weeks fighting a war had given her pride a massive boost. She felt arrogant, secure in how strong she had become. She’s fought Chaos Lords, Colossi powered by Xylarchy warriors, and wild beasts, and survived. The only reason she failed against the pirates was that they wore her down.

Pride had suffused her bones, much like the Radiant energy had. The certainty that all would bend before her Will.

Huh?

Why did she think like that though? No, it wasn't a conscious thought. She wouldn’t underestimate anyone! Damien. Damien! It was his towering pride and arrogance that affected her. She was sure of it. The feeling was familiar. When she dreamt of his life, those emotions were the ones he felt most of the time.

‘Damien!’

What is it?

‘Why am I thinking like you?’

She felt a mental shrug. Because I am right.

And into her mind flowed the certainty of power. If she followed his path, she would one day hold the arrogance to lord over everything.

It isn’t arrogance if it’s true.

She walled him off and pushed her into the deepest recesses of her mind, but nonetheless, she heard him chuckling. She would have to watch out for that. Excessive pride.

With a deep breath, she centred her thoughts. She needed to advance. Once she was at the Knight level, she would truly have the strength to protect herself. If it came down to it, she could simply leave the plane and walk the Chaos Sea until she returned home. She needed to advance, and to do it, she needed to hold a thousand rotting Animus lumens in reserve. How in Chaos could she do that?

Nothing much came to her for the next few days. Mum burst into her room that afternoon and cooed and pampered her, saying soothing words while her anxiety and fears melted away. Some part of her knew that Mum’s Mien was controlling her mind and emotions, but the rest of her didn’t care. It was only when Mum wasn’t around that she felt unnerved.

But she still couldn’t bring herself to be angry, much less hate it. It was Mum. Mum would do anything to protect her.

But that small part of her, the one immersed in the Radiant Essence yelled and screamed. She would not be shackled. However, she needed to reach Knight… no, Actualisation, before she could do anything about it.

She skipped classes that week but returned the week after. It was as if nothing had happened. She attended the lectures, then eventually took the year-end exams. She played Shatran with Finan. She spent an hour every day with Reinhardt, who courted her with poetry, regaled her with anecdotes of his travels, and told her of the different court etiquettes and idiosyncrasies of life in different Coalition planes. He even sparred with her once.

Afterwards, it was Michi that she trained with. Reinhardt’s bodyguard was quick and moved like a snake. The woman’s sword forms felt familiar, and it didn’t take long to realise that every movement and stance was a variation of the Four Phases of the Sword. At least, that’s what Yuriko thought.

And then, one afternoon, a strange thing happened while she practised the forms. It was the fourth form of Raging Volcano, and as she completed the form, a wisp of flame flickered on the tip of her wooden training sword. It was gone the next moment, and she wasn’t even sure if it had been there at all. She hadn’t been able to replicate the feat since, but was certain that it had been real. She hadn’t used any Animus technique or her Anima. The tongue of flame simply appeared out of thin air. Or perhaps it was better to say, out of the ambient Chaos?

Still, that got her thinking. Ambient Chaos was made of mostly inert Primordial Chaos, or perhaps, the possibilities within such particles were so numerous that there was no way for one thing to surface. Thus, its potential remained untapped. Were the forms leading her to something that could access and change that potential?

Well, at the moment, she was simply practising to relieve the stress of still being unable to store more lumens than her usual cap. Any Animus she shoved into her Anima when it was outside her body simply drifted away after a time. And until it dissipated, her core wouldn’t produce more Animus too.

So was the answer somehow to sever the connection between the Animus outside from her core so that she could refill her reserves while keeping control of the excess?

When she used Animus, a thin tendril always connected the strands to her core, in one way or another. Whether it was through her body, or through her Anima, all of it was connected to her core. And as long as her core acknowledged the Animus as being hers, it would not produce more. Was it an instinct to protect herself?

Sometimes, excess Animus was generated when a technique backlashes or through the actions of another. What usually happened was channel burn. What was the way to prevent that from happening?

Her mind wrestled with such thoughts until one day, she realised that her Presentation to the Imperial Court would be in a few days. Why did that fill her tummy with butterflies?