"Blood is stronger than Law. One does not argue with Blood."
-Anzaki Proverb
Note: The Anzaki people were thought to be the first practitioners of
blood magic. Scholars speculate that they were the progenitors to the Maji.
The smells of spring, of pristine woodland and flowers ever in bloom took up residence in Emily's nostrils as she surveyed the the dreamworld that she'd visited only twice before. The feel of this place seemed so much more real, more solid than she remembered. As if a veil had been lifted from her senses, she felt that she was experiencing more than she had previously, that she was more connected to this place. The grass beneath her bare feet, the bite of the spring breezes raising goosebumps on her bare skin, the clearing was alive and she could feel that life as sure as she could feel her own heartbeat. In fact, the place seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat in truth. This was her place in a way that it was not before, and she was not alone in it.
She stood bare at the foot of a dais facing the Mistress, standing tall under that ancient, frightful gaze. The Mistress, dressed in a plain heavy silk robe, an Empress taking stock of her domain, stood at the top of the dais with a soft expression totally at odds with the fountain of blood behind her. There were women kneeling in a circle at the edge of the small clearing, their diaphanous gowns fluttering. She could not tell if they were the same women as before but realized that in this place it did not matter. Natalie knelt in front of her with back against her knees, the only other nude figure in the clearing. Emily's hands rested on her shoulders, both to comfort and to signify ownership. All was quiet save for the wind wailing through the trees like a soul forever dying, keening in hopelessness. There was danger there; she knew it instinctively. She had to keep Natalie, her best friend, her only friend, safe from those who would devour her.
"Where am I," Natalie whispered into the silence, sounding both drugged and on the edge of panic. "Oh God I hurt."
"It's OK sweetie. I'll protect you. But you gotta be quiet. There's danger here."
"Fuck that," Natalie replied more strongly, gathering the strength to try to lurch away. "Where ever this is I know I don't wanna be here. Let me g...."
Emily silenced her friend with an effort of will alone, though the strain was visible. Natalie was headstrong and was oftentimes oblivious to situations that should terrify her. This dreamscape certainly counted; Emily knew that missteps here had real consequences. A woman could end up worse than dead here. She was no master of this place but she knew more than Natalie, even if she still wasn't sure where her knowledge base had originated. There was safety in silence; a mere neophyte should not speak in a ceremony like this. Then the Mistress' voice filled the space, the power of it seeming to vibrate the air like a guitar string.
"It seems," said the Mistress, sounding slightly annoyed, "that your hold upon your minion is weak. You must strengthen it." Natalie was certainly hating talk of minions. She struggled against Emily's will and her grip, nearly breaking both. She gritted her teeth. The Mistress closed the distance between herself and the two girls struggling for supremacy, gliding down from the dais as though she were the wind itself. "Let me show you." She touched Natalie with an index finger to her forehead. That one touch quieted her mind for an instant before searing pain blossomed from the contact point downward. Natalie tried to scream her agony but her jaws locked in a rictus. Emily's knees weakened from the echo of that pain and she nearly collapsed. She knew her friend felt much worse. But before she could plead on Natalie's behalf it was over. The pain did not fade, it abruptly stopped. "I can make that pain last as long or as short as I wish, young Natalie. Once she absorbs more of my essence your friend will be able to as well. She does not because she is kind and because she loves you. Yet she is my servant, to do with as I will. I can force her to do what she would rather not. I will force her to keep her minions in line with the very pain you've just experienced and more besides. I will not stay my hand, for to defy her is to defy me. And I shall not be defied."
Natalie knelt weeping silently, any trace of defiance leached from her, Emily's hands the only thing holding her up. There were tears in Emily's eyes as well, though she did not shed them. Instead she supported the one she'd somehow brought with her, trying to project a sense that things would be fine. The Mistress looked on with patience but with a gleam in her eyes, searching specifically for willfulness so that she could crush it utterly. She almost seemed disappointed when no resistance was possible for the pair. "Now that we have settled this issue, we will proceed. We must do what is promised." As if following an unseen cue the ladies began to chant, a whisper rising in volume though the words made no sense to Emily's ears. Then she noticed the changes rendered in her friend. They frightened her.
"M-mistress," Emily said hesitantly. "This is different than my metamorphosis. I don't remember this ceremony."
"It was unnecessary for you. Although your changes were more severe you possess the correct bloodlines. In a sense, you have always belonged to me, as the women in your family have always belonged to me. Your father's line as well, although as a man he can never know us as you will. Regardless, I can change you with a touch, though not without pain.
"Pain brings change," said the the women making up the circle in unison before resuming their chanting.
