Several hours later...
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Having spent the majority of her morning talking to a new friend, Anne found herself walking through a teal portal, a gateway to the realm of the dead, to Anea Sedea. It didn't take her long to find a suitably depopulated alleyway where she could form the portal and close it from the other side. This would allow her to open a new portal back into Zlato from Anea Sedea, but only at the same point where she left it, so it was of fair importance to ensure that the physical location of the portal was safe. Only once she was absolutely certain that nobody could follow her or even knew where she was, did Anne go through and unto the realm of the dead.
It was just as dry, lifeless and entropic as she remembered, with permanently-shattering stones, ever crumbling pathways and an air so thick with the screams of souls that one could practically hold the sound in their hand. Wisps of past emotions and motes of experiences floated everywhere around her, flowing as freely as liquid through the earth, sky and all that was in between. These echoes of the past, the produce of all souls was being channelled through strange, almost alien machinery and transformed in ways that Anne couldn't really comprehend, even after a decade of careful study.
All that she could understand so far is that bits of old souls enter on one end and newborn souls leave from the other, with her grandfather acting as the proverbial meat grinder that processes all souls into their base components, tearing them apart by the very seams that held them together for all their lives.
Anne chuckled to herself as she walked down a harrowed path, passing by many confused and wandering souls, each unknowingly being guided towards what was their final end, with the consciousness behind each soul being the only actual survivor of this process, as those are sent back out into the world before being taken to their respective afterlives. Regardless of who or what you were in life, you will find yourself here, in death. And like all the rest, you will be recycled and torn apart, with the emotions you've felt, the experiences you accumulated during your time alive, being used as fuel for the creation of more souls, allowing for each respective generation to have more and more people alive at any one moment in time.
The first princess briefly considered the possibility of such machinery, of a Soul Well such as this one, to have existed back on Earth as well, for it would have been a decent explanation for the skyrocketing, exponentially growing human population, although she still preferred to attribute this to a variety of societal and scientific factors instead. Perhaps, the truth lied somewhere in between, but either way, it wasn't one she cared enough to bother uncovering.
Some souls possess enough power to realize themselves in this place, to know where they are, in spite of their minds being continuously shredded by the sheer lack of any comprehensible imagery. These souls are often recruited as the soldiers and guides of Anea Sedea, appearing as phantasms and wraiths, made out of what looks to be floating, teal plasma. Despite their ghastly appearance, these creatures are not truly undead, as while not alive, they are also not damned. The powers of holy magic thusly do not work on them as they would on 'regular undead' and they can be healed just as well as any other living being. Other souls reject this fate and fight, causing a desperate stir within the realms of the dead, foolishly believing that the chaos they cause could have some positive benefit for themselves.
There is no benefit to resistance, for even if one escapes the realm of the dead, there are only three paths for them to follow: become an actual undead, be torn apart as thirsting gods eagerly suckle on your soul or return to Anea Sedea before your violent end becomes a reality.
At least, this is what the first princess believed to be true, for in her relatively short span, she has not seen anyone manage to escape this entropic land. A few liches got close, claiming to posses phylacteries on the physical plane that they could use to resurrect themselves, but usually, the dread guardians of Anea Sedea would keep such errant souls locked away in decaying prisons for long enough to have one an agent of Anne's aunt Aranvea, go out into the mortal world and shatter the phylactery in question.
Anne often found herself pitying these sapient undead lords, for what awaited them was nothing less but Lustitiae's Court and a final set of torment before their souls are cast into the void beyond this world, to writhe for eternity, forgotten and alone.
Such, was the fate of all those who failed to redeem themselves in the eyes of Lusith, the Lord Of The Final Judgement. Another member of the NAO and possibly the greatest edge lord whose existence she has ever had the opportunity to be made aware of, Anne had many mixed feelings about Lusith. Once upon a time, while she was still a child, she adored the extremes of the Lady Justice, finding it eternally 'cool' how she/he would bring their victims to a tower to be tortured for their sins, though this changed nearly instantly once she learned of how all of the NAO were reincarnated people. Once upon a time, Anne also envied Lusith for their apparent ability to switch genders on the fly and as the situation demanded, often taking upon the form of either a grey king or a lady in a gothic dress with an aura of falling raven feathers.
The detailed descriptions of Lusith's divine realm; Lustitiae's Court, which is more commonly known as the Tower Of The Damned, are far too graphic for Anne to enjoy, though it wasn't any of this that gave her the mixed feeling described beforehand. No, it was the fact that Lusith, a god of supposed justice, was the origin and source of all 'natural undead' on Aestra, as the way one becomes undead in this world is to die a sinner horrible enough to be taken to the tower, whereas you are to be tortured for a time before being promptly dumped back into the mortal world, having been transformed into an undead monster depending on your own sins. Of course, there are other ways to become an undead, but the fact that their origin lies in a god that the Inerti worship as part of their Reverent Four was always a little confusing and convoluted for Anne.
The priests claimed how it was the Inerti's duty to deliver the undead back to the tower by exterminating their physical forms, yet the paladins of the Inerti often collect the souls for their personal use and the Inquisitors outright shatter the souls while on the physical plane due to believing that an eternity in the void is far too harsh of a punishment for any mortal soul to be given, no matter their sin.
In Anne's view, the world was better off without Lusith's tower of glorified, fatal BDSM. If a sinner's sins are too great, simply destroy the consciousness and use up the rest of their soul to create more souls. Throwing them into the void is about as ridiculous as someone deciding to blow up a planet: a disgusting waste of perfectly good resources.
Anne let out a sigh that reverberated through the dread land before her as she thought of the Inerti; they were her subjects, her kind, but their long-standing dogmas and religious schisms ran too deep for her taste, an unfortunate blister on what she saw as an otherwise perfect society. Perhaps, one day, when her mother decides to retire, she could bring about change.
Or perhaps it could happen sooner if she talked to her mother about it? "Guess I could try to talk to mom about changing some rules... I'm gonna have to think of some real good arguments before I can even hope for anything worthwhile, though."
Either way and after a couple minutes of deep contemplation, the first princess found herself standing at the gates of her own estate within Anea Sedea, a massive manor surrounded by tall, white walls and closed off from the rest of it by an equally over-sized iron portcullis, though the latter opened up with rusted creaking as soon as she came close enough, only to slam down and impale the stones below as she walked through it.
Like every other landmark of Anea Sedea, Anne's manor was just as confusing and unnatural as the rest of it, being a lot smaller on the inside than it seemed to be on the outside, with a long hallway and a wide front entrance being the only things separating the other rooms inside. Closest to the front, this time, were the kitchen on the right and the bathroom on the left, while behind a flight of stairs lied the doorway to Anne's bedroom.
Anne snorted lightly and rolled her eyes. "At least you put the important stuff up first this time." The manor, like everything else within Anea Sedea, was permanently changing shape between two extremes, though unlike everything else, neither shape of the manor could be considered 'broken'. It had two forms: changing and stable.
While nobody was home, the manor continued to switch the places of its rooms, causing alien geometry to form and reform, before eventually using the presence of any visitor as a crux to prevent further deformation and subsequent reformation. It shatters and rebuilds itself in accordance to some extreme, unknowable design that used to somewhat frighten the princess, though she has come to know the manor as her ally and friend. Ally, because it knows when efficiency is required, leading Anne from one room to the next as she desires them. Friend, because it can sometimes troll her for hours, guiding her from per say, her bathroom and, well, to her bathroom, while the definitely-not-possessed cutlery bakes her a cake, so that when Anne finally gets too pissed off to continue fooling around, it can give her a cake that is paradoxically not a lie.
The house's personality is akin to that of a mischievous, but attentive child and Anne would never allow anyone to bring it harm.
Anne placed a gentle hand onto the walls of her manor with a smile. "I'm home." She whispered to it in a soft tone, causing the house to give a light shake in response as the temperate grew comfortably cold and refreshing, with several glasses of ice-cold milk being presented to Anne within an instant. Taking one and drinking it, Anne smiled as she heard the sound of sizzling meat from the kitchen as she walked closer to the door.
Blowing air softly onto the ebony frame caused it to open without a single sound as Anne leaned into the door-frame, grinning at the figure whistling and busying herself in the kitchen. They were almost completely alike in appearance, she and the person happily darting around in front of her, unaware of Anne's presence.
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They both stood at an impressive, one hundred and seventy centimetre height, just thirty short of their mother. Both had glowing eyes, Anne's white and her sister's gold, while the opposite applied to their hair. Anne's golden locks were tied in an ever-present pony-tail that reached to her lower back while Yvonne's snow-touched strands were allowed to freely flow down in a natural, but also extremely well-kept manner. Their most striking difference however, lied with the outfit of each. While Anne's was built for efficiency and comfort, Yvonne was dressed in a fancy, yet somehow plain, noble dress. Most of Yvonne's clothing appeared unkempt, as if all of its locks had been released and every limiting article removed in order to allow the wearer to breathe. Anne never quite understood why Yvonne refused to dress lighter, with the latter seemingly preferring to suffer in luxury than be comfortable in simplicity.
Anne gave the door frame a set of gentle knocks in order to announce her presence, causing Yvonne to stop humming and turn around with a shocked and embarrassed expression. "A-Anne?! How long have you been standing there?!"
"Long enough to hear you singing, as well as see you cooking and wiggling your butt at the same time, sis~." Anne snickered and approached her sister with a smile, before they gave each other a long hug, an action which exposed another striking difference between the sisters; which is to say, the fact that Yvonne's bust was triple the size of Anne's.
A fact that our first princess could not mind less, as she quite enjoyed having that generous breast pressed against hers. "So what's for lunch?"
Yvonne offered her sister a chuckle. "Really? That's the first question you ask?"
"Well, whatever it is you're cooking, it smells really good and I've also been living on a combination of salty sea crackers and fish for the past week." Anne smirked lightly before blinking and then proceeding to smell herself, only to instantly regret that decision. Having spent a week without bathing and then effectively drenching herself in the stench of Zlato's harbour gave her quite the 'unique' odour, yet somehow nobody mentioned it to her. Then again, the residents of that city were probably used to such 'aromas'. "... smells like I could use a bath too."
"Eh, really? I don't smell anything, though?" Yvonne tilted her head in confusion, while caused Anne to snicker. "Probably because you're still perceiving me in only one form, sister."
With a shrug as her immediate reply, Yvonne pivoted on her heel as she returned to her cooking, promptly ignoring Anne's jab at her lack of entropic comprehension. "Anyway, I found some free-range beef in your freezer so I helped myself to one of the cows. So we're having steak with potatoes!"
Yvonne basically drooled over her own future dish as Anne looked over to the side, finally noticing the skewered, neatly-cut up minos on a nearby table. "I see. Free-range beef, indeed." She mused mostly to herself as she took a seat near her sister in order to watch her cook.
However, due to Yvonne's dress being in a rather dishevelled state, what Anne saw caused her to become instantly infuriated, grasping at the edges of her chair with an almost palpable anger. Yvonne heard the chair creak loudly behind her, causing her eyes to widen before she turned around to find her sister intensely staring at her exposed back, only to grasp at the edges of her corset in an attempt to cover it, though the damage was already done.
Anne stopped her sister from doing so, taking Yvonne's hand into her own and promptly removing her corset entirely. "H-hey! W-wait-" Yvonne helplessly tried to stop her sister but to no avail as she was soon put against the floor, with her entire back exposed. Swallowing down hard and surrendering, despite her growing embarrassment, Yvonne muttered out a soft whisper. "A-Anne... p-please, don't be angry..."
A shudder ran up and down Yvonne's spine as she felt her sisters cold fingers trail across her back, Anne's silence becoming inexorably deafening to her little sister. "And how am I supposed to not be angry, Yvonne?..." Anne's wide eyes radiated an anger that caused eternity to switch itself with seconds as she continued to observe her sisters exposed back with a gnawing, growing madness.
For upon Yvonne's otherwise pearly, perfect skin were the marks of something intrinsically familiar to Anne; the scars of being impaled, sliced, diced, crushed and cut, the ever-present products of 'training'. "I told them not to leave a single scar on your body."
Yvonne shuddered and twitched with fear due to her sisters tone, the cold fingers trailing around her back now feeling much akin to surgical scalpels exposing veins of sin. Anne was furious beyond belief, eventually removing herself from her sisters back and allowing the other to stand up. Once their eyes met, Yvonne had to swallow down hard, the result of open fear, as Anne flicked her fingers towards the sizzling meat and boiling potatoes, causing the entirety of the kitchen to seemingly cease, to be stuck in a singular moment, to no longer experience the passage of time.
The little sister blinked and shook lightly at the elder's display of power as she quickly buttoned up her corset and reset her dress, locking eyes with Anne, whose wide gaze instantly caused Yvonne to look away in shame. "Come." Anne's command reverberated through Yvonne's ears, eliciting an almost automatic nod to be given in response. "... so much for wearing a nice dress to hide this..." Yvonne let out a sigh, effectively resigning herself to her fate.
Within moments, they found themselves in Anne's bedroom. "This isn't a sin to be hidden, little sister. Yours is not a body that should ever possess scars such as these." Anne turned around, facing her sister with a slightly less furious gaze. "Now; strip."
Shutting her eyes in embarrassment, Yvonne did as she was told, with the room instantly changing in temperate to compensate, though that did nothing to prevent her from shivering. Once she was fully exposed, Yvonne heard her sister begin to walk, circling around her like an starved predator and letting out a sound that could only be described as something between a purr and a low, spiteful growl.
Opening her eyes, Yvonne witnessed several orbs of brilliant light forming unto existence, collapsing together from what was seemingly thin air, as she could not feel even a sliver of mana flowing through or into the orbs themselves. The second princess was never truly attuned to holy magic, though she excelled at practically every other form of arcane art there was. In fact, in Yvonne's view, holy 'magic' was not magic at all, but the pure faith of those whose wills and egos were powerful enough to enforce their personal views on the world. If magic was a wish made real, then 'holy magic' was nothing short of an order, a demand of obedience, a stranglehold of force causing reality itself to bend in accordance to the users desire.
Yvonne held her hands crossed and over her chest, shivering lightly as the brilliant light coalesced around her sisters pointer finger, which once again found itself trailing across her body, covering every single one of her scars, as if Anne was a painter, delicately removing perceived imperfections from a supposedly damaged work of art.
It wasn't that Yvonne did not want her scars removed, for while she found them attractive on others, she did not think the same whilst they were on her own skin. Removing them normally would also require her to delve into the Inerti black market, to pilfer goods from shady merchants and make deals with the various, sickening trade princes of the Consortium, as the Inerti do not normally care nor produce such things. She would have to spend thousands of gold coins in an effort to secure a steady supply of everything she'd need to care for herself and retain her beauty in spite of her teachers relentless physical onslaught.
At least, that was the outcome that Yvonne had hoped for, to have to waste so much money, even if only to prevent what was currently happening. The eerie, obsessive fury of her sister terrified her, but it was neither the first nor the last time such a thing would happen. Yvonne let out a breath, exhaling in relief despite her gnawing unease, as Anne sliently used her miraculous powers to remove each and every single bit of marred flesh she could find, regardless of the mental damage that her sister suffered in turn.
Eventually though, Yvonne worked up the courage she needed to speak up. "Anne. You know full well why they did this to me."
"Your teachers and I had an agreement; no training that would cause permanent damage or -" Anne's rebuttal was immediate, causing her sister to grit her teeth, her fear slowly being overcome by annoyance. "Or what, Anne?! You told me this a million times before; they're doing this because they want to train me into a proper Inerti royal, to meet the standards that our race demands!"
Anne was shocked out of her furious stupor by her sisters suddenly raised tone of voice. "I-uhm..." She trailed off with uncertainty and shock, suddenly realizing just how hypocritical she was being by doing this, considering that she removed absolutely none of her own scars. "B-but-... u-unlike me you don't-"
"I don't what, Anne?! Have holy superpowers that can practically remove any and all physical damage? The healers of the castle did a well enough job as it is! The rest could just as easily be achieved by skincare products!" Anne raised her hands in a defensive way, looking about as confused at her sisters outburst as was possible.
"Uh- I was going to say that you don't like having scars..." The elder sister looked to the side in embarrassment, her right hand lamely rubbing the back of her own head. "... Jesus Christ, what the fuck was I doing just now?" Anne's mind finally caught on to reality as she shook her head, turning around to face a heavily embarrassed, completely naked Yvonne.
Realizing just how creepy what she just did was only somewhat prevented Anne from earning the envy of the entirety of the worlds tomatoes with the blush that followed suit, covering her expression with a shaky arm. "Yes, Anne, I do not like scars. I think they look absolutely ugly on me, unlike they do on you, but that's besides the point!"
Yvonne stomped angrily and spoke with a tone full of growing annoyance. "For grandfather's sake, Anne! You literally pushed me down onto the kitchen floor, forced me into your bedroom and then ordered me to strip!" Anne then blinked and tilted her head, adopting a guilty, if highly ashamed, smirk. "I did, yeah. And you didn't resist at all~."
Now it was Yvonne's turn to flush with embarrassment as she turned her head with her nose pointing sky-high. "Hmph! I-its o-only because I was s-scared of you..." Only to quickly look back down as she realized what she just said. The damage however, once again, was already done, as Yvonne witnessed her sisters ears droop down, her arms to fall without grace and her expression to become inexorably depressed.
But before she could do or say anything more, Yvonne found herself being hugged by Anne, who buried her head in her sisters chest. "... I'm sorry, Yne... I messed up... I swear I'd never actually hurt you, ever..."
With a deep sigh echoing through the room, Yvonne closed her eyes and caressed her mentally unstable sisters head. "I know, Ann. I know..." She hugged her head for a moment, steeling herself in the process. "Now, can you please let go? I'd like to get dressed and finish cooking lunch for you while I still have time left in this realm."
Reluctantly, Anne let go of her little sister and made her way out of the room with her head down. Once outside, she closed the door behind her and appeared in the hallway, extending a hand towards nothing as another glass of cold milk appeared from seemingly nowhere. Anne splashed the milk against her face before crushing the glass in her hand hard enough to cause herself to bleed, dropping the blood-stained shards down onto the ground right after, with the manor cleaning them up as quickly as they reached the tiles.
Anne tightened her fist and pressed her fingers deep into the new wounds on her palm, effectively punishing and calming herself at the same time for the horrors she'd just committed, even as a dark joy found itself welling up from deep within her heart; for despite her fear, Yvonne did not deny her lack of resistance and there was a cruel pleasure in the following acts of domination that left Anne desiring more.
She just hoped that next time, it wouldn't end up being quite so... disturbing.