“I’ll take her to the Inner Shrine.” The Eldest offered, and rose gracefully despite her age, and gestured peremptorily for Moriko to follow.

As an acolyte, the only thing Moriko knew about the Inner Shrine was that in times of danger- threats to the Shrine- all the Acolytes, Maidens, and Priestesses were to evacuate there as a final line of defense.

“I haven’t heard much about the Inner Shrine.” Moriko volunteered in an attempt to break the strange silence as they moved deeper into the shrine itself, passing a myriad of closed doors with no explanation to what lay behind them.

“Did someone give you permission to speak, Acolyte?” The Shrine Priestess retorted. Moriko hung her head at this rebuke and the old woman chuckled.

“You’ll likely end up spending a great deal of time here when you’re ready to move up from the Maidens, but for now, understand that the Inner Shrine is where we commune with the Ancient Pine and that, should we ever be attacked, this is where we will retreat to. For now, that should be more than enough information for you.”

When? ‘When’, and not ‘if’? Moriko wondered.

Moriko suddenly collided with something she could not see, and fell backwards, instinct borne of endless training causing her to twist her body to adjust her fall properly.

The elderly woman eyed Moriko. “It seems an Acolyte has been training in Maiden techniques.” She murmured with an eyebrow raised and a small smile on her lips.

Moriko wasn’t certain how to respond, so she looked away. The elderly woman chuckled at her response.

“It’s not something to be ashamed of. All of us, each of us do it.” The elderly woman encouraged gently.

“When we have learned how to be a proper acolyte, we strive for the next step, the Maiden. When you feel as though you have mastered your role as a Shrine Maiden, impatience will no doubt drive you to seek the deeper mysteries of the Priestess. Ambition, properly directed, is a powerful tool. Be certain to temper it with patience and humility.” the elderly woman explained with a calm and gravid dignity.

Moriko nodded and rose to her feet and took a step forward and immediately bumped into something, some invisible barrier that would not let her pass. The Shrine Priestess folded her arms and watched curiously as Moriko, puzzled, explored the barrier with her hands. It was firm and unyielding, but not cool or slick like glass.

“What do you think it is?” She asked the Yamato girl.

The girl looked up at the Shrine Priestess. “It’s a barrier.”

The elderly woman nodded to herself. “Yes, there are often barriers in our lives that block us from getting where we need to be.” the woman offered unhelpfully.

Moriko’s mouth twisted stubbornly. “The Maiden response to a barrier is ‘over, under, around, or through.” she stated testily.

The Priestess nodded again, interested in how the young girl would approach the problem.

Tests revealed the inner map of the mind, and for those who would live and worship in the shrine, it was very important to understand the depth, width, and breadth of the person you were dealing with.

According to a Shrine Maiden Moriko had once spoken to, there were four ways to handle any barrier or obstruction. This was important to consider when on the battlefield, when behind enemy lines, when assaulting a fortress.

“Over, under, around, or through.” Moriko repeated, and the Priestesses eyes gleamed as Moriko probed the barrier with her hands.

She looked up at the woman. “You have something that allows you to pass through. Something that, without it, you could not.”

The Eldest Priestess smiled warmly. “When you get to be my age you will discover that having a key isn’t necessary.” She reached into her sleeve, and pulled out an ofuda, a spell-slip, a strip of paper with ideograms drawn on it, and held it out to the young girl. “But in your case, one is necessary.”

She handed it to the girl, who examined the esoteric markings curiously.

Some of it was written in the Yamato language, some of it was arcane loops, whorls, and jagged lines that zigzagged. The Shrine Priestess led Moriko past the barrier, and into another hallway, where she repeated what everyone already knew of the kami of the Ancient Pine.

In a time long before Moriko was born, there had been a debate amongst the Yamato Shrine Priestesses as to whether or not the springs were the source of their kami, like the one that resided in their sister shrine to the west, the Shrine of the Stony Pool, or whether it was the tree itself, but in the end it was the Ancient Pine itself that had settled the debate by telling them that it was the first tree, the oldest tree, older than they were when the bones of the world were young. Who could argue with that?

The tree held no interest in those that passed through it on their way to the Cycle of Rebirth. The tree wanted to plunge its roots deep into the earth and stretch its branches wide to catch the sun. The tree would provide rest, shelter, and peace to those that rested beneath its mighty boughs, but it had no care for the world of men and elves and beast-kin. It dreamed its slow tree dreams and existed in the tidal pull of sap running through its trunk and the passing of an infinity of seasons.

An animal might sharpen its claws against its bark, but an animal lived only a few years while the patience of the tree was the patience of millenia. Animals and men alike would crumble to dust in the time it would take for the mighty tree to notice.

Some chose the tree in one of their lives, knowing that the tree would endlessly offer their souls to the cycle of rebirth. Moriko herself wasn’t certain if she had done so in a previous incarnation or if this was to be her first.

In the pools of water at the base of the trunk of the tree, she would offer herself. If it was the first time, then forever after, in every life that came after hers, the tree would be her Patron. If at some point in time in the distant past she had already dedicated her soul to the Tree, she could, if she were very lucky, meet one or more of those incarnations and by reaffirming her commitments, she would be able to eventually unlock some of the secrets of power that the tree itself granted.

If, in a previous life, she had dedicated herself to a different Patron, she would be allowed in the fullness of time to seek out that patron in order to continue her path.

*****

After she had purified herself not once but an additional twelve times, Moriko was finally allowed past the final barrier, where she would confront the Ancient Pine itself. There were a number of pools and springs that collected there; she was free to visit whichever she preferred, but if she had chosen the tree, or if she hadn’t yet gained a Patron, she would swear herself. If she belonged to a different Patron, then it fell to her to seek it out if she wanted to move onward towards becoming a Shrine Priestess.

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The pools that surrounded the base of the tree varied in size from large puddles to the size of basins in which several people could bathe. With the construction of the Shrine around the base of the Ancient Pine, it created an artificial grotto of sorts, a thick roof of heavy planks of wood, the pools of water scattered throughout the place, and the massive roots of the giant tree that was so gargantuan it was impossible to see even the lowermost branches.

It was explained to Moriko that while in one of the pools, there was a possibility that she might meet a fragment of what she once was, a sliver of memory, an experience so profound it transcended the Cycle. Even more rare, it might even be possible to encounter her Origin, the original soul she had been born with.

Some considered encountering their past selves disturbing, uncomfortable, or even offensive. Others espoused the idea that it was important to be flexible. What you had done, who you had been in a previous life was important to understand, but the ‘you’ that existed then was nothing more than the accumulation of decisions and choices and experiences from that part of your Cycle.

Understand them, appreciate them, use them as tools; stepping stones on the path to greater heights of wisdom.

As Moriko stepped into the grotto, a cold, authoritarian voice rang out.

“I am Authority. I command, and it is so. When the Empress speaks, she speaks with my voice. All bend to my will, for I have commanded it.”

Moriko would have considered the voice mockingly arrogant, but It spoke with a persuasive strength and utter conviction that it was hard for her to deny it.

A woman lurked in one of the steamy pools. Moriko frowned. It was explained to her that there would be no one else visiting them during this ritual. She had no weapon with which to defend herself, but no acolyte, maiden, or priestess was unarmed, even naked as she was. She settled into a relaxed stance; deceptive in appearance, it was a Passive Art that relied on flexibility of the body and an elastic mind; a defensive art that would immediately use the opponent’s strength, momentum, and attack against them.

“Who are you?” Moriko demanded as the steam billowed up, thick and slightly acidic from the minerals.

“Am I you? Are you me?” The woman responded cryptically. “Isn’t that a pointless question in a place like this?”

Moriko grimaced, and waved her arm, trying to disperse the steam so that she could see the woman better.

As the steam cleared, the woman that was revealed was strange indeed. While she shared some traits with the Yamato, her hair was glossy black, but what looked to be antlers sprouted from her temples, sweeping straight back. Her eyes were amber-colored, and there was a spray of tiny glittering scales at her temples. Her eyes were serpentine, with slit pupils, and her ears, though pointed like a Yamato or an elven person, were shaped differently from hers.

“I don’t know you.” Moriko stated flatly.

“Know yourself.” The woman retorted. Her voice was smooth and cultured, with an unfamiliar accent Moriko couldn’t place.

The girl frowned as her frustrations mounted. “I do not have patience for inscrutable witticisms.”

A subtle smile appeared on the woman’s face. What was it? Smugness? Arrogance? The recognition of an equal?

Understanding.

“I have worn many faces and names.” The woman finally said. “Mother, daughter, lover...” She paused, and her subtle smile grew. “Murderer, betrayer, monster;” Her eyes closed, and she raised her hands a little. “Conqueror, refugee... and Empress.” She opened her eyes and looked into Moriko’s own.

“Now I wear your face and carry your name.” Her face settled into one of infinite patience. “Now do you see the inanity of your question?” She asked, and Moriko clamped her lips shut and rolled her eyes.

“I was told I might meet a part of myself from before.” Moriko acknowledged, and the woman nodded.

“Names are precious things, full of power.” The woman admitted. “In my time, we were given a public name, a family name, and a personal name. I had many public names. I was known as Warlady of the Jadescales; Twenty-first Seat of the Synod; Seventh Seat of the Senate; Glory the Gemweaver; Glory the Anointed Mask; Acolyte Glory of the Dragon’s Fang; Glory the Morningtide...” She trailed off. “They’re all so inconsequential, now.”

Her gaze returned to Moriko. “My family name was Jadescale, the seventh clan of Kayelinth The Firebringer. My personal name was ‘Alba’.”

Moriko stiffened as one of the names clicked home for her. Glory the Morningtide.

The woman that had brought the Blood of the Dragon to the Yamato. A woman who had brought both salvation and unsurpassed cruelty to the Yamato. The Dragon Empress.

The woman’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Moriko’s reaction. Her eyes were so cold and calculating, and yet filled with life. She touched her lips with a fingertip meditatively.

“Ah, but you have not named yourself.” The woman challenged coyly.

“My name is... Moriko.” She offered.

“That’s it?” The woman prompted curiously.

Moriko sighed, and gave her full, formal name, thoroughly the whole source of trouble the entirety of her life.

“A name I am as unfamiliar with as you are with mine. Shall we continue with ‘Moriko’, then?” The woman offered generously, and Moriko relaxed a little.

“You may address me as Alba.” She gestured to the steaming pool. “Join me, if it pleases you. I permit you to speak freely.” She added the last in a haughty, commanding tone used to being obeyed by those who were beneath her.

After a contemplative moment, Moriko shook her head. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you are. I don’t think I will join you.”

Alba Jadescale lifted a sculpted eyebrow gracefully.

“We covered this already: I am you, and you are me. I am me, and you are me.” The woman with amber eyes replied, stepping to the edge of the pool, water streaming from her body. With her in the pool and Moriko standing on the edge, they stood eye to eye, those lizard-slit pupils staring into Moriko’s almond-shaped eyes.

“If I have been reborn in you, then....” The woman trailed off ambiguously. “I wonder what purpose lies before you.”

“Purpose? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Moriko complained.

The woman smirked at that response.

"We all have a purpose. We all bring it to those we meet, and those that serve us. For me, I loved my nation. The Ten Clans of the Dragon. Its people. Its majesty and wonders. Its art and wisdom, its decadence. And then my eyes were opened to the corruption and decay rotting its heart." She stared off into space and Moriko could feel the woman’s memories seeping into hers. A massive city-state on a plateau that overlooked the entire continent.

"The nation is mother and father to us. And if you find your mother raped or your father beaten and robbed, before you call for the guards or begin an investigation, you cover their nakedness. Because you love them." She whispered sadly.

She lowered her gaze to Moriko and locked her eyes with the young girl.

“To protect the pride of my nation, I had to allow that country to burn. To protect my family, I chose the path of exile myself. By right of my blood, I conquered the disparate Yamato factions and united them under my banner.”

The woman leaned into Moriko’s space to peer into the girl’s twelve-year-old eyes. “I wonder what atrocities you will commit for the sake of pride, for the sake of family, for the sake of your blood.”

Moriko immediately rolled her eyes with a scoff. “That might have been true for you, but I am not bound by such things.” She moved to push past the other woman, but the horned woman seized her arm.

The woman known to the Yamato as Glory the Morningtide glared into Moriko’s eyes. “I did not survive long after the subjugation of what you call the Yamato lands, but it was I who brought the Dragonblood to them.” She declared. Moriko gave her a baffled look while struggling to free herself of the woman’s iron grip.

“That blood should run through your veins as well. Shall we awaken it?” Glory asked in a voice that was a mixture of curiosity and daring.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Moriko shouted. There should have been no problem twisting free of the woman’s grip, but strangely, bafflingly, her arm refused to move properly.

Moriko, with increasing insistence, tugged her fingers free from the other woman’s grip. “You died thousands of years ago.” She insisted. “I am a Shrine Maiden, and I have no family but the Shrine.”

Glory considered the girl for a moment. Moriko was a slip of a girl, scarcely become a woman. She settled her feet. This wouldn’t take long at all.

Glory suddenly lashed out; Moriko reacted instantly, hand blurring to block the knifelike thrust of the legendary tyrant’s hand, but it lanced forward towards Moriko’s ribs before she could react-