The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tabby had returned quickly from her errand, and then only prowled the manor in a state of nervous restlessness until Gella had intervened. Neither she, nor Violet needed to suffer the awful prickling tedium of simply waiting for Lauren to finish her preparations. So, once they had seen to as much of Celia’s cleanliness and comfort as they could, the mage had taken their worries away from them, along with much of their minds.

Gella looked down into Violet’s serene expression. Her Shadow lay with her head in the mage’s lap and her hands folded in her lap, while her mind was lost in the furthest reaches of a sea of stars. The elven woman’s mindscape was a spectacular one, a tapestry of constellations and shooting stars. Not that Gella was actively viewing it, that spell being quite ragira-intensive. But she had seen it before, and for now that was enough.

The cat girl now sat cross legged on the floor, eyes shut with the markings on her skin glowing a steady emerald. While she had long since been free of the draconian structure and rigor of her former monastic life, Gella knew her pet could still find a measure of peace in meditation. That brought a wistful smile to her lips, seeing the smile Tabby now let freely claim her while she meditated. “Life is joy,” she repeated quietly. “To live is to feel pleasure. I am my Mistress’s loyal Huntress,” she continued.

The look of complete peace on each girl’s face replenished Gella. This, above nearly everything else, was the reward for her research. Both of these amazing women had been brutally jammed into the role of living weapon, and her arcane mastery had set them both free. They still maintained their bodies at her behest, of course. Meticulously and delightfully so, Gella admitted with a lingering gaze over both women. But in addition to that, they had the love, care, and attention that enabled them to bloom so beautifully.

Recrimination loomed once more. If she had only listened to Aversa, or insisted on deeper magical control at the start with Celia, none of this would have happened. Her champion and her priestess would be here as well, enthralled and swimming in bliss. Still, she reasoned, she was proud of the results of her plan. It had worked delightfully well. Celia had nearly begged to be allowed to surrender herself. Once this last snarl was dealt with, Celia would be hers. In mind, in body, and in soul.

A small chime from the clock above the couch sounded half an hour till noon, and Gella reluctantly snapped her fingers. Her girls slowly returned to full awareness, stretching and twisting in ways that Gella was only too happy to silently admire. “It’s very nearly time, girls,” she said and then gestured to the kitchenette. “We should get something to eat first.”

“On it, Mistress,” Tabby said quickly, tying an apron around her body and pulling ingredients from Gella’s food chiller. The beastkin set to work, and soon, the delightful scent of melting cheese and the soft sound of frying bread filled the room.

“Grilled cheese?” Gella asked curiously. It was a hearty and filling meal, but hardly something that her pet would deem worthy.

“Sooomething like that, Mistress,” Tabby teased from Gella’s kitchenette, briefly a realm of steam and cutlery.

Soon three plates of something warm, golden brown, and oozing with cheese were deposited. And Gella had to admit, the crunch of something baked onto the bread, the nutty flavors of an unusual cheese, and the unexpected sweetness of an apple slice did genuinely elevate the otherwise simple dish far beyond a simple sandwich. Despite the absence of two of her Treasures, the homey and familiar act of sharing a meal was a balm on her troubled mind.

After she and Violet paid their compliments to Tabby, the lunch passed in relative silence. Wordlessly, they agreed that the plates should be left to deal with later, and three pairs of eyes fixated on the clock. Five minutes to noon. “Come along girls,” Gella said firmly, rising to her feet. “Let’s go meet with a goddess.”

Lauren’s private chapel was usually a simple, solemn space. High stained-glass windows allowed in natural light, and simple wooden furniture was arranged before an altar. On that altar stood a statue of the Lady of Mercy herself. She was depicted as an attractive woman adorned in simple robes, lacking Ishi’s raw sensuality, Tryg’s motherly demeanor, or Brigga’s physical strength.

Gella had… a sort of… truce with the goddess. It obviously had not escaped the divine’s notice when she had first taken Lauren as her own. One of Shala’s own Gilded Ones had been dispatched to thank Gella for saving the priestess, and to strongly recommend she be given over to the nearest temple for training. When Gella had refused, and the Gilded One ready to smite Gella for her temerity, the mage had successfully argued that being Gella’s would be the more merciful path for Lauren by far. Only she had the skills, she had argued, needed to heal Lauren’s mind fully after the ordeal the priestess had endured.

From that day, Gella and Shala shared equal prominence in Lauren’s heart. She prayed to and obeyed the goddesses’ edicts, while her day to day was spent happily submitting to the mage. And Gella was, for the most part, satisfied. Mercy so often paid later dividends, after all.

But in her deepest heart, Gella resented the goddess. To share—even in the most benign way—her Dreamgirl’s mind? It felt like an affront. Which is why, even through all of her deep breathing exercises, despite all of the ways her inner Creature could sooth and chill her, she felt nearly incandescent at what Lauren was telling her. “Shala is going to possess you?” The mage repeated, hoping for some detail she had missed. “Take over your body entirely?”

Lauren nodded. “Yes. She can’t manifest here, and none of her Gilded Ones can be spared today. I made sure she knew how time sensitive this was, so this is the best compromise she had,” Lauren finished with a platitive note.

Gella thought about delaying. But the thought of Celia trapped in her own unending nightmare was too much. She would stomach this, for Celia’s sake. “What are the risks?” She asked, keeping a steady tone through sheer will alone.

“Practically nothing,” Lauren reported, happiness evident in her tone. “She will use my body to speak, walk around, and use magic if she needs to. Then, after we are done, she will depart and I’ll have full memories of her time here.”

Gella shut her eyes in contemplation. This was hardly ideal, but she needed solutions quickly. She nodded once. “Go ahead.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lauren quietly said, before she began to move. She walked to each of the nine candles placed, having placed them around a circle of runic markings she had drawn in the rosewood. One by one, the pinkette priestess lit them with a tiny spell, and intricate glyphs inscribed in the gold dust flared brightly with each candle.

The heavy, woodsy aroma of the Abbyberry smoke got thicker, swirling around Lauren as she stood in the center of the circle. With her arms held out welcomingly, the entire runic circle began brightly glowing the pure golden light associated with Shala’s power. “Bonjour, Madame Shala. Je vous supplie de prendre mon corps comme le tien. Partagez avec nous votre présence divine.” Lauren said firmly, tilting her head upwards.

The pinkette levitated a few inches from the ground, looking as if her entire body was being lifted like a puppet on strings. The golden light, the swirling smoke, and the candle flames all spiraled together into one funnell of pure magical energy. Lit from within, the whirling vortex folded Lauren within it in one gloriously bright burst.

Once the afterimages faded from Gella’s vision, her priestess slowly descended to the floor and opened her eyes. The mage’s fists clenched and her jaw tightened. Instead of the lovely contrast of blue eyes with a pink ring, Lauren’s eyes were solid gold from edge to edge. “Hello, Lady Sadran.” It was still Lauren’s voice, but it was laced tightly with another one. A voice that was used to power and authority. “Lauren came to me with a heartfelt plea on behalf of one that she loves dearly. Show me this Celia Evergleam.”

The implicit command did nothing to soothe Gella’s ire. But she kept a civil tone and even inclined her head in a slight bow. “This way,” she gestured. Shala looked down at Lauren’s feet with a bemused expression, then with a wordless gesture she was lifted to again hover a few inches above the ground, gliding ahead of Gella.

Walking behind the divinely possessed Lauren, Gella gestured for Violet and Tabby to follow her. The divinity, thankfully, didn’t linger and went right to Celia’s room. At a touch from Gella, all four women went inside and to the stricken warrior’s bedside.

Celia looked much the same as she had since her incident, eyes shut and essentially switched off. Without so much as a word, Shala put a hand on Celia, and infused the warrior’s body with the same golden glow that illuminated Lauren’s eyes. The room was utterly silent for a long moment until Shala withdrew the glow and spun eerily in place to face Gella. “It is as I feared. Her ragira, so long unexpressed, has been unleashed inwardly as one catastrophic spell. It is consuming her soul.”

All of that pageantry, letting this divine witch take her Lauren, all to learn something she already suspected?! The simmering anger threatened to boil over into rage. Desperately she plunged herself into her inner Creature’s icy embrace, and the rage stilled, pushed far away. Along with everything else preventing her from reaching her goal. The preservation of Celia’s soul. No matter what. “I assumed it was something of that nature,” she said coolly, nodding at Celia’s inert body. “My own arts are insufficient to remedy the problem. Can you help her?”

“Help is a complicated word,” Shala said after a moment of consideration. Waving her hand over Celia’s forehead, a mote of golden light detached and settled over the warrior. “That will remove the pain,” she promised. Both Tabby and Violet visibly relaxed at that, and Gella had to concede that her subject not being in needless pain was a net positive. “As for repairing the damage,” she shook her head. “I am sorry. That is something I am unable to grant.”

“Unable, or unwilling?” Gella challenged.

Shala twisted Lauren’s expression into an imperiousness that didn’t suit her in the least. Gella held the stare of the goddess, and eventually Shala sighed dramatically. “Very well. I will offer this truth, Lady Sadran, in lieu of the boon you sought.” Her golden eyes flicked to Celia and Gella saw the sympathy in her expression. “By ancient compact, we divines may only alter a mortal soul when we have consensus. Only in creating our own Touched may we alter a mortal soul at will.”

“Has that… consensus ever happened before?” Gella asked, wearily.

“Yes, but to even begin the process takes years, if not decades.” Shala reported solemnly.

“What of your angels?” Violet interjected. “They aren’t mere Touched.”

“You are correct, Lathellen, but they are also no longer mortal. Would you prefer that, Lady Sadran? To have me lay claim to Celia’s soul at the moment of her death?”

The tone of finality struck Gella like a physical blow. “You would let her die, then?” She said, icily.

“I’m sorry, Lady Sadran, but such is the way of things.” The worst part, Gella mused beneath the ice and chill, was how sincere Shala was. She truly regretted being unable to help.

“No,” Gella said quietly, feeling tears prickle the corner of her eyes. “No, I will find my own way to save Celia.” Rage and sorrow roared far beneath their containment of ice, and Gella knew she would have to find some outlet for it soon. “Thank you, for sparing Celia her pain.”

“I wish you success in your endeavor, Lady Sadran,” The tone was sincere, and Gella had no doubt that Shala meant every word. Still, she couldn’t quite ignore the subtle patronizing tone. It seemed that Shala believed this to be a doomed quest.

Shala lowered Lauren’s body to the ground, and with a simple shimmer and the sense of something rushing away, the priestesses body was her own again. Opening her pink on blue eyes, she rushed forward and enveloped Gella in a tight hug. Tabby followed, and then finally Violet. All of them together, sharing the moment of grief. Knowing it would be painful, Gella slipped free of her own icy detachment. The tide of heavy, dark feelings was strong, but it crashed against the bulwark of love her girls had formed, and she held steady. This was a setback. Nothing more. And she had at least managed to secure both knowledge and the cessation of Celia’s pain.

“Mistress?” Lauren’s voice trembled, as Gella felt her spell on Lauren’s mind shudder. “It sounded like Lady Shala...” Her eyes lost their pink ring, and Lauren sighed heavily. When Gella moved to cast her spell again, Lauren shook her head. Stepping apart from the hug, she stood close to Celia. “Maybe it would be a mercy to... To let her pass?”

Gella arched her eyebrow at the woman. Obviously she wanted to face such a weighty choice without the mage’s magic coloring her vision, though her Creature balked at that, urging her to impose the spell anew. She held off, if only briefly. “Lauren,” she began. “My sweet, lovely girl, I know this pains you.” She stepped away from Violet and Tabby. “As it does them,” she prompted to a duet of nods from the elf and cat girl. “Can you honestly say letting Celia pass while there was still any chance of saving her would be the merciful thing to do?”

Tears flowed freely down Lauren’s cheeks while she shook her head. Rushing the mage, she almost buried her head in Gella’s chest. Hot marks soaked into Gella’s robes from spent tears, but the mage only made soft comforting noises. Violet and Tabby rejoined this new hug, with Lauren at the center. “Lauren, if your goddess thought it was a mercy, would she have let our Lady continue?” Violet offered.

“I bet Mistress would find a way to rearrange a fucking mountain if we needed it!” Tabby exclaimed. “She’s not going to let some gods’ dumb rules stop her, right Mistress?”

“Indeed I am not, Tabitha,” Gella murmured, smiling at her pet. “And right now, I think letting you experience this unaided is doing you no favors, my Dreamgirl.” The other two parted, letting Gella approach and place her fingers on Lauren’s temples. The familiar spell flew from her lips, finding its place in Lauren’s mind, heralded by pink filling her eyes. In a moment, the warmth and hope in her eyes reignited and she placed a dainty kiss on not just Gella’s lips, but Tabby’s and Violets as well.

“Thank you girls, Mistress,” she said, confidence restored. “But if we can’t get what we need from any of the gods, what can we do?”

“Well,” Gella said, a plan already coming together in her mind. “If the divine won’t give us what we ask, maybe the demonic will surrender what we demand.”

“The demonic... Oh!” Lauren said suddenly, looking at her with a confused expression. “Mistress, are you positive that is a good idea?” She asked hesitantly. “First that awful demon selling that woman to control a Heartwarden, then Aversa doing… what she did.” She shook her head with more conviction that Gella was used to seeing from her priestess. “Demons and devils are never the answer, Mistress.”

Gella adored Lauren’s tender heart, she truly did. The lovely woman had become a counter to the inner icy Creature that lurked in Gella’s heart. A Creature that right now was whispering seductively to her. She had spells memorized that could render Lauren a giggling puddle of bliss, or send her into a peaceful dreamland. And that was only if she wanted to use magic. The pinkette had submitted herself over and over, forging ever stronger links of pleasure and desire that Gella suspected she would only need to snap her fingers and order Lauren to sleep.

She looked over at Celia. Time was not on her side, but rushing headlong after a hunch was the mark of a poor researcher. Her girls weren’t mindlessly agreeable drones for a reason, after all. Despite the insistent demands the icy cold dominant Creature was hissing, Gella nodded at Lauren. “I think Aversa has the answers we need, my Dreamgirl. I will take every precaution with her bindings this time, but ignoring her as a resource would be a waste.”

“Mistress,” Lauren began with a quiet strength lacing her words. “You don’t need to prove anything to Aversa. She wiggled out from your control, yes. But you recovered.” Her gentle smile turned to the wounded woman on the bed. “And you saw what Celia could be. You don’t need whatever tidbit Aversa might have,” she said dismissively. “Don’t let your pride get in the way of helping Celia.”

The mage stood stunned. With her simple warm grace, Lauren had easily sifted through the layers of rationalizations about the demoness. She didn’t need what Aversa had, but she wanted the demoness to know that Gella still had the power between them. It stung, all the more for how deliberately Gella let her heart stay vulnerable. This was a lesson worth learning.

“Lauren is correct, my Lady,” Violet said, embracing Gella from behind. “Aversa slighted you. There will be time later to address that.” Stepping around, Violet guided Gella to look at Celia. “She needs you now.”

Tabby only nodded with an encouraging smile, and again Gella felt the love and devotion from her girls strengthen her. “I love you, my amazing Treasures,” she said earnestly.

“We love you too, Mistress,” Tabby said eagerly, followed by Violet and Lauren. “But what are we going to do about Celia?”

Gella looked at the blonde woman, as her mind worked furiously at the problem. Celia’s soul was damaged, and the gods couldn’t intervene without either considerable time or extraordinary circumstances. The ever-eager icy part of her mind clambored to simply enslave the divine and force their help. As if it were a real option, rather than a fantasy. The fleeting mental image of herself as queen of all the heavens was a tempting one, but hardly practical. That left the only person to master soul magic. Her lord and sovereign, Councillor Stretta.

“We don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Gella said, resolutely. “We’re going to take Celia to Amourot, and I am going to plead for Councillor Stretta’s aid.” Turning to Celia’s near inert body, she sighed heavily and once again let a protective layer of frost form over her heart. “Girl,” she commanded. “Stand and follow me.”

With the unnatural grace of a sleepwalker, Celia’s body slipped to her feet and stood beside Gella. It only took a glance at the hollow emptiness in her warrior’s blue eyes for Gella to keep her face resolutely forward. “I need to pen a request for an audience. I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

Turning and heading back down the corridor, Gella was aware at every step of Celia’s presence. With so much of her sealed away, the woman’s very body somehow seemed less tangible. A ridiculous notion, she knew, but with Celia’s dire fate pronounced, Gella almost felt like she was already being haunted. She forced herself to abandon that trail of thought. Her knight wasn’t dead yet.

Together, they went through Gella’s rooms into her study. First thing’s first, he will need a full magical analysis of her, Gella considered. “Girl, stand just here.” The blonde human silently obeyed, standing in front of Gella’s desk. Gathering the devices and tools she would need, Gella went through each step, dutifully noting down her results.

It was soothing, in a way. A distraction that, for a moment, she was simply recording data. Her knight, the problems plaguing her mind and soul, all reduced to numbers and formula. The cold academic language described the pain, distancing Gella from it further. She could almost convince herself. Until she looked up and saw the blank expression and hauntingly empty eyes. That terrible image was a distraction, and one Gella could rid herself of. “Girl, turn and...” She had meant to continue with face away only for the words to catch in her throat.

No. Celia wasn’t a distraction. Gella could endure the blank stare. She owed her knight that much.

Long, silent minutes filled Gella’s study. The meticulous notes she’d kept were worked into a formal request for her lord’s assistance, along with a full explanation of the events that had led to that request. She had faltered when it came to Aversa, sorely tempted to minimize the demoness. But at best that would slow Celia’s treatment. She could endure whatever reprimand came attached to her self-incrimination. And, eventually, she would extract recompense from the demon herself.

Finally, the report was compiled and the request penned, all in Gella’s neat copperplate writing. Sliding one of her desk drawers open revealed a silver box with a slit just wide enough for a single sheet of paper or parchment to slip though. Feeding in her report and request one sheet at a time, the arcane device produced a thrum of power and a series of lights across its surface to indicate the device’s twin in far-away Amourot was even now transcribing her words.

Her task done, Gella let her focus slip. The weight of the day settled on her, made all the heavier for Celia’s unmoving presence. The ice around her heart slipped away. She had time now.

Guilt, fear, anguish, and more swirled in the brackish backwater of Gella’s mind. Some of it was earned, some merely imagined, all poisonous enough if left to fester. Working though each was tedious and painful. The guilt and fear were by far the worst. Try as she might, Gella couldn’t banish them. Celia was too close, a Treasure in all but name. The thought of losing her terrified her.

While she trudged through the emotional debris, the pitch black chill of domination swept close. She could find another pretty human girl that could use a sword. Alchemical hair dye could turn anyone that lovely shade of ash blonde. Violet could not only add a scar to anyone Gella chose, but it didn’t have to be the haphazard slash that spoiled Celia’s face. She could have an improved Celia.

Her magic would let anyone be that new Celia. An eager, loyal knight. Ready to fight, ready to lick, ready to do and be whatever Gella wanted. A smile crept across Gella’s lips while her eyes stared through her desk. Chilly certainty wrapped her up. Why stop with one improvement? Lauren could be hers, and hers alone. The divine would fall in line, eventually. And even if they didn’t, the archdevils would eagerly provide her adorable priestess with power. She could get Lauren to—

A little bell rang in the device on her desk, and the focus that it compelled filled her with a shiver of disgust at her thoughts. Her measured rational thoughts let her push away the chill and send the Creature of domination slithering away. Her girls, her Treasures, weren’t perfect. And that was the point. They were unique and they were all the more precious for it.

Her device transcribed only a single page, and not from her lord himself but from a Ministry functionary. Her request was approved, she read with a thrill of excitement, and she was to come via waygate at her earliest opportunity.

She looked up at Celia. Of course, the docile woman hadn’t changed, but Gella could easily imagine her returning to life once more now. With an almost giddy grin, she took Celia’s hand into her own. “Follow me, Girl, we need to get you looking your best.”

“I’m glad you decided to not try summoning a fucking demon again, Spark,” Damian said, leaning against the wall. “You should listen to Lauren more often,”

Gella looked up from the waygate’s control console and gave her brother a very expressive roll of her eyes. “I should. She’s brave enough to let a goddess possess her. Much more brave then, for instance, the captain of the Heralds that is scared to talk to his father,” she shot with a self satisfied smirk.

“I’m not scared of dad,” Damian insisted with his hands held out as if to ward the accusation away. “He’s just very... insistent, sometimes.”

Gella finished the last of the enchantments just as her girls arrived, leading an immaculately dressed Celia. Dressed in a white blouse leading to a blue ankle-length skirt, her ash blonde hair was tied back in a simple braid. “Mistress, why did we dress her nicely for this?” Tabby asked, curiously.

The beastkin had been convinced to slip her armor on for the trip. Adampor wasn’t nearly as ashamed of nudity as Remere, but Gella still wanted her Huntress to display some aspects other than her beautiful body. “This is the first time our lord is going to see Celia. It’s not ideal, but I still wanted to make the effort.”

Stepping toward her knight, Gella admired how her body was perfectly displayed in the blouse. It was tight enough at the chest to hint at the perky orbs, but not so much as to call too much attention to them. The same with the skirt. It was entirely modest, but with a slit that ran up the side that would display plenty of the blonde woman’s toned legs.

Violet and Lauren had put in the effort as well. Violet was dressed in formal robes bearing Gella’s colors of silver on green. They too flattered her figure, and the mage was positive that under the light airy robes her Shadow would be carrying a full complement of her deadly tools. The purple eyepatch was the only point of discord, but hopefully a single visit to Xavier’s fleshcrafting studio would be sufficient to heal her.

Her dear Dreamgirl had dressed in the gilded and heavily ornate clerical robes befitting a priestess of her power. They had been fiendishly expensive in material and design, but when Gella saw the quiet dignity and power her pinkette radiated in them, she knew it was well worth it.

Finally, Gella herself had gone with a simple gown in a dark red, cut low to display a few tantalizing inches of pale skin. Emerald earrings and a diadem of silver and moonstone completed the look.

“You know Spark, seeing you all gathered and dressed so fancy,” Damian began solemnly before his face cracked into a grin. “I can honestly say I’m glad I have such pressing security issues here.” Stepping forward, he gave Gella a hug. “Give my best to mom and dad,” he softly said while she returned the embrace.

“Security issues,” Gella murmured skeptically. “I’ll make sure to stop by that one shop with the really good fried buns, really treat myself and my girls,” she said with a wicked smirk.

Damian looked tempted for a long moment, then shook his head. “Go get Celia some help, I’ll keep the place standing while you’re gone.”

Nodding at her brother, Gella took a simple dagger from her arcane storehouse and slit down her palm. The pain was sharp and bracing, and she quickly filled the little receptacle with her blood as the final activation for the waygate. Lauren quickly attended to the mirror injury while the group watched the device begin to activate.

The intricate sigils glowed along the sides and base of the waygate. Light swirled around, arcing together while also seeming to try and escape. The hundreds of interlocking spells found their partners across the many miles to Amourot, and there was a moment of tension as the very air bent towards the aperture at the center of the device. Then, with a brilliant flash, the lines of light met and opened the path.

The process of walking through the portal was no more complicated than walking across the room. Gella could even see someone from the Ministry waiting for her in the arrival chamber on the other side. “Let’s go, everyone,” she commanded. In a single file line Gella went first, followed by Celia, then Tabby and Lauren, with Violet bringing up the rear.

As soon as the elven woman was across the intervening steps that in truth had taken them hundred of miles north, the waygate behind her disengaged, and the swirling passage of light disappeared .

“Lady Sadran,” said a bespectacled human man in the sharply-tailored silver on black uniform of the Adampora military. When she gave a perfunctory nod, he returned it and consulted a device about half the size of a clipboard he retrieved from his belt. “We have a carriage waiting outside to take you to the Ministry of Wellness,” he paused and gave a small chuckle. “Oh, and of course, welcome to Amourot.”

Following him out of the building, Gella and her party only had a short exposure to the hustle and bustle of the street before they stepped into the luxuriously appointed carriage. It was large, done in dark wood with bright silver accents on the seats and curtains. Their guide also apparently served as their driver, as he didn’t join them inside. After a moment, Gella heard the snap of reins and their carriage joined the traffic on the street while they all gazed out the window.

Amourot, capital city of Adampor, and her own home. The whole city sat within the caldera of a long extinct volcano, a nexus of the major leylines that criss-crossed the world. Before Councillor Stretta had taken power, Adampor had been just another country. A few natural mines, some good timber forest, fertile farmland, and not much else. Her sovereign had changed all of that.

He was a man of vision. A supremely talented wizard in his own right, he saw ways to integrate magic into society on a grand scale. And the results spoke for themselves. Gella only wished Celia were able to see the wonder of the city she would be serving.

Amourot’s streets weren’t the cramped dirty foot paths of New Gyr, or the roughly-cobbled chaotic roads of Astoria. Here, wide boulevards accommodated both carriage and pedestrians with large shade trees and magical or gas-powered lighting along the footpaths. The buildings weren’t a motley mix of wood and slate stone. Instead they were solid brickwork and painted plaster with metal roofs for even the most modest of buildings. The luxuries of Cair Dwemor were commonplace here. Hot and cold running water and magical labor-saving devices weren’t the sole domain of the rich here, but could be seen in the metallic pipes running along the outer walls of buildings.

Since her last visit here, before the official declaration of war, the fashion seemed to have shifted toward the sharp, crisply tailored look of the Adampora military. Tunics, pressed trousers, and shorter hair had worked their way into the world of fashion.

“Those are new,” Tabby pointed out at a large board as they passed. Messages, written in white on a stark black background, appeared magically every few seconds. Some were simple public notices, but as Gella watched, they also included updates about the war. The precious few killed and the far larger number captured.

That had been her sovereign’s grand experiment for Remere. Warfare without loss of life. Magic could correct the randomness of birth, the haphazard, mistaken loyalties to a moldering monarchy and cowardly nobles. Magic, especially her own research, was letting the captives start new lives as proud and free Adampora citizens.

“It pays to advertise our lord’s success, it appears,” Violet remarked. “Certainly a novel way to fight a war.”

“I really really hope all wars are fought this way,” Lauren added in adoration. “I’ll bet even Duin approves. Living soldiers can fight another day, afterall.”

“If he does disapprove, he hasn’t seen fit to inform anyone,” Gella said casually. Indeed, the war god’s priests at the Ministry of the Divine seemed fully on board with the idea. She had seen the results of her research on the captives as well. Tiny, subtle changes to soften mistakenly-held loyalty paired quite well with the increased standard of living Amourot offered.

Looking to the other side window, Gella’s eyes landed on Celia, and the happiness of a homecoming was darkened. Such tiny changes as those that could reform a prisoner of war were nothing compared to the work her knight needed. If it was even possible.

All too soon, they stopped in front of one of the massive central Ministry complexes. That had been another of Councillor Stretta’s changes. A centralized, specialized Ministry for all facets of life in his lands. Education, warfare, religion, law, and much more were staffed by competent and qualified individuals, courtesy of the ministry system.

“Alright girls,” Gella said, keeping her voice confident and firm. “Let’s get Celia taken care of. Then—” She allowed herself a moment of hopeful optimism. “Then we can show her all around the city.” The mental image of her and her Treasures strolling along the boulevards, happy and healthy, was too tempting to not indulge in.

“Mistress,” Lauren said softly, taking the mage’s hand into her own, soon after they stepped from the carriage. “She will get better, I know it.”

Pressing a kiss to her priestesses forehead, Gella nodded and squeezed Lauren’s hand back.

They followed their guide into the Ministry buiding’s atrium. The interior was airy, bright, and filled with a sense of purpose. Physicians, notable at a glance from their distinctive stark white robes, mingled with citizens and staff alike. “Follow me, please,” their guide said. “We have an exam room reserved.”

Passing through a series of doors led to a much quieter part of the complex. Glancing at the sign above a somehow final-feeling door, Gella’s heart trembled. Severe Magical Injuries, certainly had an ominous feel to it. Trying to stay positive, Gella took solace in the severity of it. They were, at least, taking Celia’s injuries seriously.

It was a comfortable room, larger than she was initially expecting. Sturdy-looking windows let in the light of the afternoon sun, and a few potted ferns in the corner added a touch of color. There was a single bed with clean white sheets, which Gella ordered Celia to lay down on, as well as four other chairs set nearby. Nodding at the forethought of that, Gella turned to thank their guide when she suddenly felt the approach of her sovereign.

Her arcane sense lit up like a bonfire, registering spellwork that suffused the air around her. She saw all three of her treasures respond as well, even Tabby’s highly specialized ragira was reacting to the sheer power filling the air around them. “Gosh, I forget how that feels. It’s just so… So much!” Lauren said with just the faintest tremble in her voice.

Their guide smiled at their reaction. “It’s good to know I can fool even you, Lady Sadran,” he said with a mysterious smile. Magic sheeted off him like rain, and Gella’s eyes watered while she watched on in awe as the image of a clean cut military officer was superimposed with the image of a large intimidating figure in tattered gray robes. After briefly looking more like a shadowed wraith from some nightmare than a person, the image faded again to a handsome man dressed in opulently decorated magenta mage’s robes. Finally finished, his form was now that of a tall, bald human with immaculately tanned skin, he smiled with pearly white teeth.

Gella dropped to bow at the waist, prompting the same from her girls. “My lord, a pleasure to see you again.” At his nod, she rose. “And no, I didn’t notice a single thing about your performance that would have given you away.”

“Excellent,” he said with a rich, powerful voice that Gella would have sworn she could feel vibrate in her chest. “And a pleasure to see you and yours again as well.” Turning to the stricken Celia on the bed, he observed her silently.

Out of the corner of her eye Gella saw Tabby staring at Stretta with rapt fascination. Her breathing had quickened, and a flush had colored her tawny skin. Swishing her tail quickly, she took a step forward. “Ooooh fuck! You... You smell amazing! I... Fuck me! Please?”

Without turning, Stretta shook his head. “Only if your mistress allows it.”

Turning to Gella with a pleading expression that only barely covered the underlying look of desire, Tabby nodded. “Please, please, please!”

Sighing at the release of pressure in the room, Gella nodded. Stretta only gestured toward the wall nearest Tabby. Shadows gathered, painting the wall a deep and impenetrable black. Another person stepped forward from the darkness and Gella had to look between the newcomer and Stretta once to confirm it. The human that stepped from the shadows was his exact duplicate. “I’ve heard of your stamina, Tabitha,” the duplicate said in the exact same timbre and pitch. “I do hope at least some of the stories are true?” Tabby practically melted into his arms, leaving Gella smiling indulgently at her. Surely if her lord were willing to satisfy her pet’s desires like that, her request to help Celia couldn’t be too outrageous.

“As for you, Violet,” the Stretta by the bed continued while his duplicate led Tabby back through the shadowed portal, “I have Mister Entamor and his team ready on the next floor up to see to your eye.” Again, Gella nodded at her lord’s forethought and consideration.

“Thank you, my lord,” Violet said, pointedly looking at Gella for permission. Her Shadow, of course, was entirely loyal, so the display didn’t surprise her. It did give her a measure of warmth and satisfaction, and a firm idea to give her Shadow a suitable reward for it once this was all over, though.

“Go ahead, Violet, get yourself sorted out.” Gella said kindly.

As Violet headed out, Stretta turned to Lauren. The pinkette had shifted closer to Celia and now held the warrior’s hand in her own. “I’m not leaving,” she said, firmly. “I won’t get in the way, but I… I don’t want to leave her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Stretta replied easily. “Anyone with eyes can see you love Miss Evergleam. The other two may care for her, but you and her share something deeper.” He stared at her hard for a moment. “Love-Lies-Dreaming, if I am not mistaken? The same you shared with Gella?”

Both women looked at him in shock. The magic of that plant was faint, barely worthy of being called a spell, and he had detected it. “I… how...” Lauren stammered, only to get a shake of the head from Stretta in response.

“It would take far too long to explain.” He turned back to Gella. “But, that brings us to the young woman.” He firmly nodded, once. “I believe what you ask for may be possible, but—” Gella’s heart jumped in her throat, elation washing over her. “But!” He repeated, seeing her grin. “Before we begin, I must ask this in my way. Do you agree?”

Gella had been hopeful it wouldn’t come to this. But if this was part of what she needed to do for her Treasure, then so be it. She nodded.

His voice lost its timbre and became something altogether more. “Gella of house Sadran, answer honestly. What will you give up to see Celia Evergelam healed?”

The force of it slipped over, under, and around the practiced mental protections Gella habitually used. Sheer stubbornness melted before power that grand, logical arguments failed to manifest, even her own desire momentarily shifted. She had to be honest. “Anything,” her lips said before her mind could even fully grasp the question.

The sense of power expended left the room. Her mind snapped back shut, her defenses untouched. “I am satisfied,” he said firmly, then smiled. “So, a bit of your soul would be quite a small price to pay, in comparison to the grand vastness of anything.”