Yuriko shuddered as the second version of her floated back. Behind those eyes were hunger and greed. The fact that those were her own blue eyes made it even more disconcerting. Why did that version of her do that?

Memories already began to fade and nothing more than the outline of her life remained, and a few emotions. Or lack of. She...

Yuriko swallowed, her throat dry and parched. How long has she been in the dreamscape? In the visions, she felt all of those years pass and if not for the fading memories, she might have gone mad. What…

No, she couldn’t remember now. Only the apathy of the second Yuriko remained and the desire to challenge the strong. That second one resonated with her so much that she quivered.

Her eyes moved to the third one and she froze.

That Yuriko’s smile was so seductive that she couldn’t even think of anything but those lips. Those eyes.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait!

Why was she being affected like this? That was the Mishala Mien wasn’t it? Eh? Is that how other people felt when they looked at her? Oh, Ancestors!

That Yuriko reached out and caressed her cheeks with her fingertips, leaving tingles that turned into a full blush. Then, of course, the vision started.

________

With a start, Yuriko awoke to darkness. No, there was a bit of light from a stand lamp on the other side of the room. The chamber was dark, owing to the curtains drawn across the windows. That didn’t really bother her since her own Anima often shed enough light to see by. The reason she didn’t do it now was that it often ruined the mood.

What had she dreamt? The past? Silly.

She stretched languidly and as she did, the bodies around her shifted and complained sleepily. Giving them no mind, Yuriko pulled herself out of the tangle of limbs, frowning at the sticky residue. It was particularly thick across her cheeks, bosom, and between her legs.

She needed a bath. Again.

Ryoko, her loyal attendant, scrubbed her clean in the baths before she allowed herself a long soak to relieve muscles sore from excess. No doubt her lovers would need the same service later; she probably exhausted them throughout the night.

Such was life in the capital. The Mishala Mien, her version of it, was insidious. That she found out after years of practicing control. It required no expenditure of Animus and was incredibly hard to protect against, even if the recipient was aware of it. Anyone at the same Anima strength was vulnerable, and for those weaker, well, they would throw their lives away at her beck and call, and would give up their own mothers just to get a taste of her.

Well, if that’s what it took.

She sighed as the scaldingly hot water finished purifying her skin. The heat was more than welcome and couldn’t hurt her at all. Long years had passed since her forced engagement. Well, she ended up marrying the prince after all and even gave him a son.

That was the only time she let him touch her. For the rest of it, he could just watch.

She smirked as she recalled the look on his face every time. He didn’t have to stay if he didn’t want to. He always watched from the little bed in the corner but he didn’t always stay after they were done.

Most of the colour had left her life during that time, after she’d lost too much. But over the years, she found some purpose. For one thing, the nobles of Realmheart, well the entire Empire really, were a fractious lot. The old Mishala Prima wanted to forge stronger bonds between the factions, but it hadn’t really been that effective. Wealth and power flowed through the Capital in equal measure. Greed begat greed. It would take a strong hand to keep them in line but as soon as the pressure was released, they would return, like water that always flowed down to the lowest point. No. They had to want to work together for things to change.

Luckily, Yuriko was well versed in making people want things.

She’d already amassed enough political power to form a faction of her own and she used it to ally with both the expansionist Gladiolus Alliance and the isolationist Peony Blossom Compact. The main thrust of her faction was to increase the forces reserved to protect the frontier planes. A measly two legions hadn’t been enough to protect Rumiga. Not when one of them spent the better part of the year wandering the nearby Chaos Sea and left it vulnerable to the machinations of the other nations.

With a shudder, she wrenched herself out of her reminiscence. Her body trembled, sending small ripples across the pool.

“Mistress,” Ryoko murmured, “it’s alright. Here, let me comfort you.” The woman’s lips against hers were soft and pliable. What Ryoko did with her fingers drove all of the memories away.

Later in the day, at the Senate chambers, Yuriko suppressed a yawn at the old fools prattling on. Laws were created here, but before they were presented to the Empress, they had to be parsed and refined. They went over each point of law with a fine eye, then debated and chopped those same points, smaller and smaller down to the finest detail until the remnants no longer resembled the origin.

There was one bill that she wanted passed though. It was one of conquest and vengeance. Those who crossed her would suffer for their arrogance. The trick to getting it to pass was to have more than one faction to support it, and it had taken her quite a few years of effort, and pleasure she supposed, to get it.

As soon as the bill was read, the support from the Gladiolus Alliance was immediate, as well as the Peony Blossom Compact. The Iris Union, unsurprisingly, didn’t like the bill, but she had gotten through to enough of their members that the faction had seized up and couldn’t decide how to vote. It ended up as a victory for her. It tasted of ashes.

She left the Senate feeling lost.

The following days, she slept alone. She refused most visitors, too, though she did let a few of her friends and her cousins see her. She got out of her low state after a while but without any real goal, she only let herself sink into hedonism and excess.

Oddly enough, even with that, the strength of her Anima continued to grow alongside the strength of the Mishala Mien. Now, people didn’t even have to be near her to be affected by her Mien. They only needed to hear of her or see her likeness to be affected.

Well, some of the nobles must have managed to throw off her influence, mostly due to her careless neglect, and they managed to petition the Empress to assign her princely husband to another plane to claim rulership of it. She had to go with him, of course, but she brought a stable of her thralls to keep herself entertained.

They settled on a frontier plane called Anglista and it was more wilderness than civilisation. It was filled with all manner of beasts and Avos. Chaos Lords and Wyldlings invaded through several Tidelands and often destroyed villages and towns nearby.

By now, her Anima could spread several longstrides, almost a league, really. And anyone who was immersed in it fell under the sway of her Mien. Even the beasts, and even the Wyldlings and Chaos lords.

Soon, Anglista was at peace and the industriousness of its people made it flourish. Over the years, her people spread throughout the corners of the plane, and some even left to colonise a passing untethered plane. They connected that one to Anglista, and named it the Plane of Lilies. Another decade later, they colonised another wild plane, which they named Rosengard.

The people and beasts worshipped her.

One morning, droplets of Ambrosia materialised in front of her, a result of widespread worship. Animus was sent with prayer and when enough of them happened at the same time, it affected the ambient Chaos around her. But the degree of worship shouldn’t have been high enough to produce Ambrosia!

She collected the precious liquid and used it to further strengthen her Anima, which now spread nearly a couple of leagues away.

Perhaps it was her growing mini-kingdom, but somebody back home must not have liked it.

One evening, well, early morning, Yuriko woke up and removed herself from the usual tangle of limbs. Her husband slept on his bed across the room, a silly grin on his face. It wasn’t the discomfort of the dried fluids on her or the cold night air that woke her, but rather, a tinge of premonition.

She sauntered into her bath; the hour was too early for Ryoko to be awake. She drew the bath by herself and after washing, settled for a long hot soak. Her Anima spread out around her and she kept it thin. By controlling the density of her Anima, she could prevent it from shedding light. It gave her a modicum of subtlety since everyone and their cousin knew that touching her Anima was a bad idea if they harboured any ill-intent.

She felt the intruder slip into the bathroom, standing several paces away. She even saw the assassin draw a dagger. She almost snickered when he started tiptoeing towards her back. She spoke when he was but a couple of paces away. She was within easy reach of his dagger but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t strong enough to penetrate her skin.

“Well, well. What’s a rat doing in my bathing chamber, hmm?”

The assassin jumped in surprise and she could see his face redden at her barb. She turned languidly to face him, unmindful of her nudity. Her Mien had already started working on his Anima, and from how his blood rushed to his face and crotch, it was already past whatever defences he had. Quite unprofessional, actually. Why send such a weak fighter to try and kill her?

Hoh. He looked quite comely, actually, and his features matched many of her well known tastes. Was he bait?

She spread her Anima farther, looking for any anomaly, even as she admired his physique. Her Anima traced every feature of his, and told her quite intimately of his condition. Young. Athletic. Cute, nearly childish face. Curly hair that tickled his cheeks. Yes, quite handsome.

Ahh, there it was. Another force within her domain. They were closing quickly towards her mansion, and their accoutrements were built to resist mental influence. Perhaps if she were any other Mishala, it might have worked, but being within her Anima, her Mien was already undermining their defences.

“You’d better put that dagger away, little boy,” Yuriko said with a sultry chuckle which only served to further arouse him. He swallowed painfully and was hesitant. “In fact, why don’t you cut off those constraining clothes of yours.”

His hands moved before he could think and just like that, he was naked. Then the dagger dropped to the floor and he now looked at her with naked desire.

“Good,” Yuriko smiled. “Now be a dear and slit your own throat.”

The boy dropped to the floor, grabbed his weapon, then stabbed himself. Blood gushed out of his neck, and even as he died, his fervent gaze never left the back of her head.

Once he was dead, Yuriko rose from the pool and put on a robe. She walked back into her bedroom and out into the balcony. The group of assassins were already scaling her wall, but startled when they saw her come out. All at once, they tried to rush her, but her voice was faster.

“Why don’t you all paint my garden red with your blood?” she asked.

And so they did. Their blood and bodies painted artful forms on the grass. After it was all done, she suddenly realised that she forgot to ask them who their patron was. Oh well, not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered. Everything was in the palm of her hand, and they could dance to her tune.

Perhaps it was time to return to Realmheart and change things up a little.

CYCLES UPON CYCLES. A CIRCLE HAS NO END.