Though the same men that carried the litter into the city carried it back out, the ride felt bumpier this time. Perhaps it was all in Mizuko’s head, a byproduct of the guilt currently roiling inside of her. One could argue that her guilt was not justified, or at least blown out of proportion when compared to her actions. After all, it wasn’t like she’d known what would happen, and she sure hadn’t chosen to hurt all those people. But she had hurt them all the same.

It seemed that every being within a large radius, one that stretched far beyond the castle where she’d slept and into the city proper, had shared her nightmare along with her. Those out on the fringe of the area of effect had simply experienced a powerful nightmare, but nothing more; the only real damage they had to worry about was whatever happened to their body if they had been standing during the event. But everybody unlucky enough to be closer had experienced more than just a scary nightmare. Those poor souls had gone through something for more potent, as if all the emotions within the dream were dialed up to eleven or beyond. It seemed that the closer the person was to Mizuko during the dream, the stronger the experience happened to be, the longer it took them to wake up, and the more damaged their psyche sustained.

She kept coming back to their eyes, especially the eyes of the servant who she’d found just waking up. The terror in those eyes seemed nearly unhinged, as if they were looking at a horrible abomination instead of a frail elderly woman. She’d seen that same terror in the eyes of the soldiers surrounding her and even in the eyes of the princess herself. Those same noble eyes stared at her now from across the litter’s cabin, a confusing mix of emotions visible within.

What the princess was doing sitting in this litter alone with Mizuko, instead of being a hundred kilometers away, the old woman could not fathom. She’d expected to be carted of in chains and thrown in a dungeon or maybe just killed on the spot, but neither of those things had happened, despite Votar’s vociferous advocation. Why, she could not say. She wanted to ask, but words would not come out, stifled by her shame. She did not deserve to demand answers to anything right now.

“Tell me, Yamanaka,” the princess said after about thirty minutes of awkward silence, “what should I do with you? You attacked my people after I took you in. You repaid my kindness with violence.”

“Words cannot describe my shame,” Mizuko replied. “I can only beg for your forgiveness.” She felt the need to perform a dogeza even though she’d already done so back at the palace. Only the lack of space in the litter kept her from doing so again.

“But do you deserve it?” Pyria asked. “Everybody in the palace is worse off now than they were before, myself included. I jump at sudden noises, my heart races for no reason, I feel terrified in my own study... you even marked my face when I collapsed on the writing desk and knocked over my inkwell. But that is nothing compared to those unlucky enough to be the closest to you. Nobody in the guest wing has woken yet, Mizuko. For all we know, they may never wake. Even if I believe you that this was all an accident, what do I tell their families? I do believe that you feel true remorse over this disaster, but remorse will not help my people recover from the damage you inflicted.”

Mizuko let out a sigh. “I want to make things right, but I don’t know how.”

“Do you truly seek redemption for your crime?”

“You... are you offering me a chance? Even after what I did to you?”

“A good ruler must be able to see past personal problems and grudges in order to find all possible means of advantage,” the princess said as she rested her chin on steepled fingers. “Yamanaka, you might be the most powerful person in the world. Nobody else has an ability that can affect so large an area. Not even close. Drayhadal needs you. I need you.”

“I... I don’t think I can do that again. No good can come from such an evil thing.”

“Nonsense,” Pyria scoffed. “Powers have no inherent morality. What matters is how you use them. I, for example, am an Air Observer. I could use that power to create a soothing breeze inside this cabin, or I could use it to break the cabin window and throw shards of glass at you. The power is not at fault—I am. It is just a tool. Use your tool to help us, and you can find the redemption you seek.”

“How?”

“There is a neighboring country to the east named Stragma. At least once a decade the Stragmans invade, swarming over the walls of our fortresses and laying waste to everything they can. Thankfully, they only attack during the fall when their migration puts them closest to our borders, but they outnumber us greatly and thousands upon thousands of good men die every time. The Stragmans have not invaded in nearly a decade, leading me to believe that they will soon, either this year or the next. And when they do, all of Drayhadal will suffer. The price to stop the Stragman armies will be tens of thousands of good men, husbands and fathers all. Wives will become widows. Families will be destroyed. Every invasion scars this country deeply. But you could change that. You could stop an entire army in its tracks and save our people. You would get more than just redemption. You would be a hero to us all.”

Yamanaka Mizuko, national hero? Mizuko had never been one to crave the spotlight, but she couldn’t deny that the idea held some appeal. “If you think that would let me atone, I can try,” she said.

The princess smiled knowingly, the first warm look Mizuko had seen all day. “You are a kind person,” she said. “Do not worry, I will not lead you wrong.”

“But are you sure I could even help? I don’t think I could fall asleep in the middle of a battle.”

The princess laughed. “I’m sure you don’t need to be asleep. That’s not how powers work. You’ll figure it out after a little experimentation and practice. Just... please don’t practice when I’m nearby.”

*     *     *

“We have arrived,” the princess declared as the litter came to a halt.

“Arrived where?” Mizuko inquired.

“Your new home.” Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out.

Mizuko followed right behind, stepping out into the bright sunlight and halting in shock. The elderly woman stared in awe at the large house standing on the top of the hill—the same hill where they’d first met. The hill had been empty just yesterday, save for the large rock that she’d rested against jutting out near the top. Now an entire home, seemingly made entirely from stone, stood beside the rock, welcoming her in the orange light of the setting sun. Several servants stood near the entrance while soldiers ringed the area. “What? How?” she asked, hardly able to believe her eyes.

“Nobody can shape the world like Drayhadans. It’s more than just how we survive in this unforgiving world. It’s a way of life,” the elf replied with evident pride. “Muiqir, god of the elves, bade us to tame the lands and make it our own, and so we have. Come, let me show you the inside. It’s best that we determine if changes are required now while the builders are still here.”

What followed was a short tour of the house, from the kitchen to the bedroom to the living room with a fireplace and more. There was even a stone patio outside, where she could sit and watch the plains that stretched out to the horizon. Most of the abode still lacked furnishings, though in the bedroom stood a comfy-looking bed.

“The way this place will work is fairly simple,” the princess explained. “During the day, my soldiers will protect you and the house. Should you want to leave, they will accompany you to make sure that you stay safe. When night falls and you wish to sleep, the soldiers will spread out and form a perimeter around the house out beyond the range of your abilities. Then once you are safely asleep, they will leave, since you can protect yourself with your dreams far more effectively than some soldiers could.”

Mizuko listened to Pyria’s explanations with half her mind, but the other half was busy thinking about everything that had just happened. This whole situation didn’t add up.

“Princess, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” she asked.

“Is something the matter?”

“I just agreed to help you on the way here.”

“Yes?”

“When did you start the construction of this house?”

“I ordered the creation of this place this morning.”

“So you started it before you made your offer? But what if I had refused?”

Pyria flashed that knowing grin again. “You weren’t going to refuse.”

“Ah?”

"You're a nice person. Predictably so. I knew you would want a chance to rectify things."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It can be if you're not careful."

“I see... Then that leads to another question. If you knew that I would agree before we left, why are you here? I’m sure you have many things to do that are more important than showing off a house to an old woman. You could have sent an assistant of some sort to handle this.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong,” the princess replied. “You could single-handedly tip the balance of power in this country, perhaps even in this entire continent, and you expect me to leave you with some functionary while I go read economic reports? That would be a terrible way to handle my responsibilities. But more importantly, this is my gift to you, and so I wanted to be the one to give it. It is only right, since you have already given me the greatest gift I could have ever asked for, that I should return the favor.”

“I gave you a gift?” Mizuko repeated back in puzzlement. “What was it?”

Pyria’s smile seemed to take on a tint of sadness. “Hope,” she answered.

Miuzko didn't know what to make of the vague answer. The way the elf spoke implied that she wasn't talking about the possible upcoming invasion. “Hope for what? I don’t understand.”

“It’s better that you don’t. Trust me.”

No matter how Mizuko asked, Pyria refused to elaborate.

*     *     *

The unidentified man stared down at her in apparent disbelief, slack-jawed. The anger on his face seemed to have disappeared for the moment, but that didn’t improve Mizuko’s suddenly foul mood. Who did this buffoon think he was, swearing at her like that? In all the months since she’d first arrived, nobody had ever treated her so disrespectfully, not even Votar.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. As a mother and grandmother, she’d had plenty of practice using such a tone. As always, it worked. The man plopped down onto the other chair. “Didn’t your parents teach you to be respectful when entering another person’s home? Now who are you, and why have you come to see me just before my bedtime?”

“Are you really the Mother of Nightmares?” the man asked in disbelief.

Mizuko’s scowl deepened at the sound of that name. Apparently it had been coined by one of the servants in the castle after her original incident and had spread like wildfire since. She hated it. The last thing she wanted was to be known by a title like that.

“Please excuse this ruffian, madam,” said a second man who’d entered behind the first. “He is profoundly lacking in all manners of social propriety. I am Artiermius, third-ranked steward, and this is Prince Tehlmar Esmae. I apologize for the intrusion, but the prince insisted upon seeing you.”

The steward’s words puzzled the old woman. Prince? Princess Pyria had a brother? In all of her visits, Pyria had never once mentioned having siblings. “Why did you want to see me, Prince Tehlmar?”

The prince grunted. “I wanted to finally see who fucked me up and maybe kill them, but you’re too fucking old,” he stated, displeased. “You look like you're going to die tomorrow. It's not worth it.”

Mizuko gasped. “You hooligan! Were you raised by wolves?!” she asked, appalled and angry. “How dare you come into my home and act in such a vile manner!”

“How dare I?!” The prince exclaimed indignantly. “You’re the one who messed with my fucking mind! I have that fucking nightmare every night! Every fucking night! I can’t get a decent night’s sleep without drinking myself into oblivion! And all it takes is a fucking flock of birds flying overhead or a small fire and suddenly I’m running for my life in a city I don’t recognize while everything burns! You broke me.”

Oh. Upon hearing the belligerent man’s words, Mizuko’s indignation receded somewhat and the guilt she’d thought banished came bubbling back up from the deepest parts of her soul. Even when she was using her power for good, people were still getting hurt. “I can only apologize for your suffering,” she said. “I did what I did to protect the people.”

“And that’s supposed to make it all okay?” Mizuko’s answer did satisfy the seething man, but he didn’t do anything more than stare angrily at her. A tense silence settled between them, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire off to the side.

“Tell me you can make it stop,” Prince Tehlmar said after a while.

“If there is a way, I do not know it,” she admitted. “All I can say is that the others eventually recovered. Given time, you should as well.”

“Figures,” Tehlmar spat. “I should have known you would be a fucking waste of time.” He stood up to leave.

“Are you truly Princess Pyria’s sibling?”

His eyes narrowed. “What, you have a problem with that?”

“I cannot imagine how such a wonderful, kind woman could have a brother so boorish. It think it would be best for both of us if you never return here.”

“Oh yes, Pyria, such a pure flower! So righteous and wholesome! Oh, that’s rich!” He laughed a deprecating laugh, a different sort of anger suddenly burning in his eyes. “Let me give you some advice, you old crone. Ask her about the people who disappear off the streets. Ask her about the bodies that show up in alleys across Drayhadal with their throats slit. Ask her what happened to all the Stragmans you helped capture. You have no idea the things that she’s done, the things she’s capable of. And you have absolutely no clue about the things that bitch did to me. Do you really think that she’s been nice to you because she’s a good and nice person? Don’t make me laugh. She only cares about the power she gains by controlling you. So go ahead, tell me I’m an uncouth bastard and that I’m a rude asshole and that I’m nothing like my sister. Go right ahead. It’s the greatest compliment you could ever give me. And don’t worry, I won’t be coming back.”

Without another word, he stormed out of the room.

*     *     *

“I heard that my brother paid you a visit last night,” Pyria said, taking a sip of her tea. “I hope that he was not too uncivil.”

The two women sat outside the back of the house on two wooden chairs, staring out at the fields and the wilderness beyond. The fields had expanded during her time here, slowly pushing back the untamed grasslands as the days went on. That activity had halted recently, however. The weather had gotten too cold as winter approached. Thankfully Mizuko now had a wide array of warm winter outfits from which to choose every day. Today’s included a fluffy hood that kept her ears nice and toasty.

“You never told me you had a brother, Princess.”

“Tehlmar is a... complicated case. I try not to talk about him if I can avoid it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody so rude in my life.”

“It’s to be expected, really. He’s lived most of his life outside of Drayhadal, amongst the barbarians, and just returned a few days ago. Judging from the way he’s behaved since, it seems that any civility he had was thrown away long ago out there.”

“Princess, I have a question for you. Please be honest with me.”

“Of course, Yamanaka. What is it?”

“What happened to the invaders that I helped capture?” Mizuko stared at Pyria’s face, watching her face intently.

“We put them in a camp for a while, and then they were exchanged for prisoners the Stragmans had taken from us. A positive outcome for us in the end.”

“Am I your friend, Princess Pyria?”

The princess took a sip of tea, a complicated look on her face. “Rulers aren’t allowed friends, no matter what they might want them. You are very important to me, of course.”

“Not important enough to be truthful with me, apparently.”

“I did not lie to you.”

“But you didn’t tell me everything, which can be just as bad. You had all the prisoners executed. I found out from the guards.”

“That-”

“There is no honor in killing defenseless people, Princess. I’m extremely disappointed in you. I’m also saddened that you thought to keep it from me. I put those people in your hands, so I share some of the blame for their fate.”

“Don’t act like you understand the situation!” Pyria shot back. “They were hostages, and when demands aren’t met, hostages die! If I had let them live, those savages would only have viewed it as weakness! They would have done the same!”

“That sounds like a poor justification for genocide.”

“What do you know about genocide? You, living your life in that happy little world of yours?”

“Don’t confuse comfort for happiness. The people of my world have done things so terrible that you would never believe the stories. That is why I know. Even my own people have committed their share of atrocities. I don’t want you making the same mistakes my people made. Even all these years later, I still must bear some of the shame for their actions.”

“I do what I must to protect my people! You have no idea what I’m up against! You have no idea how tenuous everything I have accomplished is!”

Mizuko shook her head. “In all my years of life, I have yet to meet somebody who didn’t believe their actions were justified. If you want my respect, you will need to give me more than words.”

Pyria glared at her for a moment, then turned and stared off into the distance. Neither of them spoke for several awkward minutes before the princess suddenly spoke up. “I wanted to let you live out your remaining years here in peace and happiness,” she explained. “I didn’t want you to have to face the ugliness hiding beneath the surface of this place.”

“Happiness based on lies is no happiness at all.”

Pyria stood up. “It’s going to be dark soon. Go inside and have a fire started. I’ll be back soon. If you want to understand what my world is like, there’s somebody you need to meet.”

Mizuko looked at the princess’s receding back, unsure what to think, so she decided to listen to the elf’s words and went back inside. After requesting a servant start a fire, she sat down in her favorite chair to ponder what she’d just learned. Pyria had always been so nice. She seemed to be a fair and just ruler, and most of the people seemed to adore her. She seemed to be great at it, too—several of the older servants and guards had told Mizuko before that life these last decades was far better than under her father, and that the Esmae clan’s resurgence was entirely thanks to her efforts.

It seemed, however, that something far more ruthless hid beneath that veneer. Which person was the real Pyria? Was one the person she wanted to be, and the other the person she had to be? Or was Mizuko giving the woman too much leeway with such a lenient question? Was it even fair for Mizuko herself to judge? What right did she have to appear here in a different place with different rules and judge everything by her culture’s morality? In fact, all she and her powers had ever done since arriving here was hurt people.

Perhaps an hour later, Pyria returned, another young woman in tow.

“It’s you!” Mizuko gasped. Even though she kept her head downcast and her face was no longer lined with tears, Mizuko immediately recognized her as the young woman from the stream, the first person she’d met since coming to this world.

“This young lady is Vura. She walked all the way to Esmaeyae to petition me for permission to speak with you,” Pyria explained. “I had told her no, for security reasons, but you changed my mind.”

“Please forgive my disrespect, elder,” the girl said meekly. “I didn’t know what you were and got scared.”

“It’s okay, young one, don’t worry, I understand,” Mizuko replied, standing up and grabbing the girl’s hand. “You looked so sad at the time, I was very worried about you. How can I help you, my dear?”

“I-I...” Vura gulped. “C-could you please... I want t-to know what it f-feels like to... raise a... a child.”

“You want me to show you what it’s like to be a mother?” Mizuko asked, confused. “I could do that, but why?”

Vura began to tremble and weep at the question, and suddenly Mizuko had a terrible feeling of why the girl had seemed so distraught the last time they’d met. Pyria embraced the sobbing young woman, stroking her head gently. “I’m sorry,” the princess said to Vura, “but please show her. She needs to see it.”

Hesitantly, Vura pulled up the bottom of her shirt to reveal a series of large, ugly scars that started above her groin and went up before turning left and right. With horror, Mizuko realized that if elfin physiology was similar to that of humans, all of the scars ran almost entirely through where Vura’s womb would be.

“Please!” the grief-filled girl pleaded, “I will never have a child, so please, let me know what it is like just once.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Mizuko replied. “Please sit down, both of you. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

As soon as they were both seated, she began to concentrate, drawing on the power she’d discovered inside of herself. After days of practice and experimentation, she’d learned to harness her power while awake, letting her control things like the area of effect and the strength of the experience. Unfortunately, her powers were still set to full blast every night while she slept.

Limiting the effect to just the room, she began with a simple memory, but perhaps the most important, the memory of holding her daughter Keiko in her arms just after her birth. She wallowed in the feelings of happiness, joy, and most of all love. Then she moved on to another memory, the one of Keiko’s first words. Then to her first steps. Birthdays, holidays, plays, festivals, graduations... the scenes went on and on, all the way up to the arrival of Keiko’s own children, and the happy days when Keiko’s whole family would come to visit her and she’d nearly drown in their combined affection. Those had been wonderful days.

Mizuko opened her eyes to find Vura leaned back against the back of her chair, eyes unfocused, a soft smile on her beautiful face. Tears streaming down her cheeks once more, but this time Mizuko knew that they were not tears of sorrow. Nobody moved or said a word for what felt like an eternity, especially not Mizuko, who felt that the slightest noise would break the spell that the young woman seemed to be in.

Eventually Vura blinked and sat up, her mind fully back in the present. Blushing beet red, she gave Mizuko a deep bow. “I will never forget your kindness,” she said. Mizuko replied with a warm smile, and the young woman left the room, her posture that of a different person than the one who had entered.

Mizuko realized now that she’d been thinking about her powers the wrong way this whole time. Pyria had been right, it wasn’t her powers that hurt people. It was her memories themselves, and the emotions contained within them that mattered—the pain, the sorrow, the anguish, the fear, that was what did the damage. But there were so many feelings outside of those terrible ones, and so many memories where they could be found. She could help people like this, like she’d helped Vura.

“Thank you,” Pyria said as she stood up. Mizuko notice a slight puffiness around the princess’s eyes. Had she been crying as well? “You helped her immensely. I could see it. But you must understand that Vura’s life is still ruined.”

“What?”

“You wanted to understand, did you not? About the truth about this place? I brought her here to show it to you.”

She leaned forward, intertwining her fingers and resting her chin atop them. Mizuko reached over and grabbed her teacup and took a sip.

“It’s a long story, one that goes back to the start of recorded history. Long ago, it is said that there came a disaster. A calamity. What it was, why it happened... those details have been lost to time. But one thing that we do know is that elvenkind almost died out. Drayhadal was created nearly three millennia ago to save our race from extinction. This is a country that exists for one purpose: to repopulate the elves.”

“Oh, so that’s why there are only elves here.”

“Exactly. Now, there’s some things you need to know about us. While we live longer than the other races, we are far less fertile than they are. While elven women outside of Drayhadal live about three hundred years and are able to conceive until they are about two hundred, most will have one or two children, perhaps three if they're lucky. On top of that, more males are born than females.

“This created a problem for the founders of Drayhadal. Effective repopulation requires producing a large number of children, and elves are biologically disinclined towards such endeavors. To succeed, they would have to create a society centered around overcoming this issue. And so they did. Men took over all the responsibilities of all occupations. They farmed, they ran shops, they manufactured goods, they built homes... they ruled. Women helped around the home and did light chores, but that was all, because their job was simply to make babies. As many as possible. Ten, twelve children from a single mother was not uncommon.

“Female children spent their time, outside of helping their mother, learning how to make make themselves desirable to the opposite sex. Once they became of marriageable age, their only task was to put that knowledge into practice and find a suitable mate. As soon as they became married, every ounce of their effort then went into getting pregnant and bringing as many children into the world as possible. Once they were too old to have more children, women helped raise their grandchildren while passing on their knowledge to the younger generations. This became not only the way society functioned, it became the way society viewed right and wrong, moral and immoral.”

“It seems like it worked,” Mizuko observed.

“Yes,” Pyria replied. “While their measures were without a doubt extreme, it cannot be denied that they succeeded. Therein lies the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it worked! Elves are no longer in danger of extinction. Far from it. We are a healthy race with a large population. Any concerns of us dying off disappeared a thousand years ago. And yet, Drayhadan society is little different than it was back in the time of the country’s beginnings. Those scars on Vura’s torso... did you see how precise they were? How they were executed intentionally to damage the womb while leaving the victim otherwise alive? That is a crime known as the Barren Cut. It is done with a special serrated knife to ensure as much scarring inside the womb as possible and ensure that the victim will never be able to have children. And it is the worst thing that can happen to a woman in this place.

“Even though our country has plenty of citizens, even though elves outside of the country are also growing at a steady, healthy rate, even though there is no more need for these values and this way of thinking, Vura’s life is effectively over. As a barren woman, she is worthless in everyone else’s eyes. She will never have a husband. Other women refuse to associate with her. Though she can’t have children, she is still female and so is barred from taking a productive occupation to support herself. Her family has already disowned her. She will die alone and unloved, all because some spurned suitor or jealous rival hired some hitman to ruin her. Death would be better than what she has to look forward to for the next two hundred and sixty years, if she even manages to live that long. That is the truth of this country.”

As the elf spoke, an awful feeling of familiarity formed in the pit of Mizuko’s stomach. She could empathize with Pyria’s anger towards what she felt was a backwards society. She could still the remember the rage that had flared up inside her back when she was just eleven and her father had drunkenly beaten her mother for the first of what would be many times. He’d justified his actions by saying that Mizuko’s mother had not been properly subordinate to him as Japanese culture and tradition mandated. Ever since that day, Mizuko had never believed the idea that tradition alone was a valid justification for anything. Just because something had long been a certain way, she thought, didn’t mean it had to stay that way forever. Such progressive attitudes had led to friction with her husband later in life and caused her great pain, but she had never let those feelings go, no matter what.

When she thought back now, the signs had all been there but she’d never noticed them. The only women, outside of Pyria, that she’d come across had been servants doing tasks like laundry and cleaning or Vura. Everybody else—the soldiers, Pyria’s bodyguard, the litter bearers, and all the rest—were men. Even most of the servants that tended to her were male.

“Do you know how many women have a say in the way Drayhadal works?” Pyria continued. “Do you know how many women have even an iota of power to change this insanity? Me. That’s all, because our society still runs on the belief that it is not a woman’s place to govern. The men took over all the way at the beginning, and they don’t want to give up their power now that the justification of their rule is obsolete. The only reason I’m able to rule the Esmae is because there is literally nobody else. My father’s first two wives had problems conceiving and had many miscarriages. My mother, his third and last wife, managed to have two children before she grew too old—me and Tehlmar. Then Tehlmar was conscripted as a child, leaving only me. I have the power I have through a series of coincidences and luck. That’s it. And the powers that be try to take it from me every single day.

“What I want you to understand is that what I have to deal with is what makes me do what I do. The four ruling clans of Drayhadal do not play nice. The other three are constantly doing everything they can to undermine me just because I’m the ruler of the Esmae, and if I want to survive I have to respond in kind. They’re not above spreading terrible rumors, sabotage, or a well-place dagger to the back. In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if they had a hand in the miscarriages my father’s first two wives kept having. That’s life as the head of the Esmae.

“But I have far more than that to deal with. After all, I’m a woman who dares to want a say, and that means I’ve had a target on my back since the day I took the throne. Everybody with an iota of power sees me as a threat to the natural order and tries to set me up to fail. They all want to discredit me and show the country that a woman needs to know her place, to the point where various clans that would never cooperate have at times worked together to try to destroy what I have made. You talked about honor? I don’t have the luxury of honor. It’s me against the world.”

“But surely your people support you, don’t they? The way they cheered as you passed, I can’t imagine that was fake.”

“These days, perhaps. But back when I started, even the women were against the idea. Even now, after all I’ve accomplished, if you asked the men in private what their true thoughts were, you’d find that many still think it problematic at best. My own fucking father plans to replace me with Tehlmar, now that he’s returned. Can you imagine what would happen to my clan with him in charge?”

“I cannot imagine a worse person,” Mizuko agreed.

“It’s a never-ending battle. One where a single mistake on my part could doom everything I’ve worked for. And sometimes there are only mistakes no matter what I do. Killing the prisoners was a mistake, but not killing them would have been an even worse mistake. There is not always a path to victory.”

Pyria slumped back in her chair and, for the first time since they’d met, Mizuko felt like she saw the true Pyria—tired, worn-out, exhausted, but resolute.

“I understand now,” Mizuko said. “I don’t entirely agree with all your methods, but I understand. Thank you.”

“Remember back when we first came to this house, and I said it was a gift?” Pyria asked, a wistful look in her eyes.

“Yes, you wouldn’t explain what you meant by ‘hope’.”

“I didn’t want to explain, because I was afraid. I thought if you knew the things I’d done that you’d hate me and I didn’t want to risk losing your respect. I can see now that I was wrong to hide everything from you.”

“I’m glad that you have finally come to realize that.”

“So many times over the years, I’ve wanted to give up. Do you know how hard it is to try to change the world on your own? Always showing strength is incredibly tiring. I can’t ever show even a hint of weakness. I have to be as perfect as possible, and even then I have to do many things that even I hate myself for. It’s that or oblivion. Often it feels like I’m just shouting into an empty void, and that the void will just swallow me up in the end and nothing will have mattered. But then you came and now I know that it can happen. You are living proof that it’s not impossible. Right? My fight is not a forlorn cause.”

Mizuko nodded. “Looking back on it, I would never have thought that the possibilities for my granddaughters would be so much greater than they were for my mother or me. Other societies in my world have gone even further. It can be done.”

Pyria was crying again. “And I will always be grateful to you for teaching me that. Mizuko, like Vura, I will almost definitely never have a child of my own. To take a husband would mean that he would assume my role, so I have to walk this path alone. But I can walk this path with steady legs now, because I know it’s possible. You’ve given me the strength to do what has to be done, so that I can see what you have seen. Even if you or I don’t like it. Even it means I have to slit my own brother’s throat. You’ve given me the greatest gift I could have asked for, and for that you will always be precious to me, Yamanaka.”

The princess stood up, wiping her eyes and sniffling, before bending over and wrapping the old woman in a hug. The old woman returned it.

Mizuko couldn’t help but wonder how to feel about all of this. It was hard to imagine that the Pyria beside her at this moment was the same one who’d ordered the death of thousands of people. Part of Mizuko felt honored that she was a beacon of hope and strength for somebody again. It brought her back to her days of being a mother, back when she’d been able to support others instead of requiring that support. Another part applauded the princess’s one-person crusade to strike a blow against the entrenched powers that were. But no matter how much she tried, there was no denying the fact that Pyria had gone horribly astray.

Once again, Mizuko’s mind circled back to the question that had been bothering her all this time: was it fair for her to apply her own moral standards to a world with its own unique history? If her life had taught her anything, it was that history shaped everything, whether it was a nation’s wars, disasters, and triumphs, or a single person’s memories and experiences. All things were reflections of their past.

No, she decided finally, she couldn’t judge these people by her own ethics. This was their home, not hers, and different rules applied here. But that didn’t mean that those rules couldn’t be changed. Maybe Mizuko couldn’t snap her fingers and realign societal mores on a global scale, but she could still use what influence she had to give everything a little shove in the desired direction. And if she wanted to make a difference, her best chance stood with this isolated, paranoid, ruthless elven princess. But change wouldn’t come quickly or easily; she knew from experience how long the arc of societal change could be, so she’d start with something small but significant. She’d start by making it so Pyria didn’t feel so alone.

“Please, dear, call me Mizuko. Friends call each other by their given names.”

“I told you, I don’t get to have friends,” Pyria sniffed.

“You can make an exception just this once, Pyria.”

“If you insist... Mizuko.”

“That being said, if you ever commit another dishonorable act like that again, I will never associate with you ever again.”

Mizuko felt the arms around her stiffen.

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“Yes, you can. You have me now. My support should be of more use than anything you could gain by sullying yourself in such a way again.”

Pyria went silent for a few seconds. “I will try.”

“Good.”

The princess let go and stood there for a moment, collecting herself. “Well, thank you for listening,” she said as she headed for the door. “I’ll be back when I have time, maybe in a few days. I have many more questions to ask you about female life in your world, so be ready.”

“Pyria,” Mizuko called out just before the elf passed through the doorway.

Pyria paused and looked back. “Yes?”

“I think I have room here for one more helper, if you know what I mean.”

The princess smiled. “Of course. Leave it to me.”