"Hello, second favorite mom!" I call out, greeting Altrix cheerfully.

The twisty-toothed woman turns to me and glowers, though I can tell there's a jolt of joy in it.

"You cheeky little shit," she greets me back.

"Ooh, that sounds like Sano!" I decide. "Hi Sano! I'm a cheeky little Princess now, actually."

"So it would seem," my original birth mother agrees, looking me up and down. "The new species seems to agree with you."

I chuckle with mild embarrassment, scratching the chitin of my cheek.

"It's… yeah. I like it. You humans are way too squishy."

Sano laughs at that, opening her arms wide.

"May we hug you, Princess?" she says, putting her usual sardonic twist on my title, of all things. Most people I might get mad at for doing so, but it doesn't feel disrespectful coming from her. I don't intend to make Altrix use my title anyway.

"Sure, mom," I agree, stepping forward to meet her and squeeze her with all four of my arms. "I hope you didn't miss me too much."

"Ah, no more than during our twelve years in prison," she smirks. "Speaking of prison and your new species, by the way, we think To-Kill-From-Above is home and we absolutely want to see his reaction to all this."

If I could still raise an eyebrow at that, I would. I make the Athanatos expression for mild bewilderment instead, not that Sano understands it. Is that it? Just a hug and now we're off to amuse ourselves at To-Kill's expense? She's certainly not as clingy as she was when I left. And what's with the strange feeling of familiarity she has for To-Kill?

"I am curious to see which way that will go," I admit. "Have you and To-Kill been hanging out or something?"

"Not really, but I find him affable enough," Sano shrugs. "He's great friends with Excorio, though, and even Nix isn't too intimidated by him, so he's one of the rare individuals we all get along with. He doesn't even find us ugly the way everyone else does, or at least no more than every other one of us squishy humans. Pleasant fellow all around, and extremely amusing to tease. We got to know each other when we fixed his arms."

Ah, right, the arms I cut off. I suppose it makes sense that Altrix could regrow them with her talent. While limb regeneration is a very involved, careful, and knowledge-intensive process for humans, To-Kill's superior biology means that he was going to regrow his arms over time regardless. Altrix merely sped up the process drastically, since that's what her talent does, but exactly how her talent gets around the normal limits to regenerative speed and matter reconfiguration are still beyond me. Bah. Talents are so absurd. The way Liriope custom-crafts the souls of its people prevents them from occurring there, which I suppose is both a curse and a blessing.

To-Kill's home is the same as every other residential building in the area, since he designed most of them. Which makes perfect sense, as being a soldier does not restrict his requisite information to raw combat. If anything, that's where our soldiers are weakest. Their true power comes from coordination and sapper training, giving them the capacity to rapidly set up defensive encampments from which they can expand, bit by bit, as they swarm out and take ground. Building structures is an important part of their M.O., and To-Kill has clearly done a good job designing my town. It is worthy of praise.

I feel him busy working on something in his home—cooking, I think—and note with amusement that he doesn't live alone. I don't recognize the two humans he lives with, though I suspect they were among the many people who followed me out of Site 4. He could have easily made a home for himself, but workers and soldiers are communal, social, and generally used to living in confined spaces with one another. His roommates seem to regard him fondly, at least, which I find satisfactory. A child of Liriope being alone and away from home for so long… To-Kill-From-Above is doubtlessly much stronger and much more trauma-scarred than I ever used to give him credit for. I walk up to his front door and knock, Sano being wise enough to not think she has to point out which home is his.

"Coming!" a muffled voice calls from inside, and one of the roommates answers the door, a human male. He freezes when the door opens, blinking owlishly down at me. I should probably make sure my next body is taller.

"Are you, uh, here for To-Kill?" he asks, since living with a giant bug person has at least managed to inure him to us a bit.

"What tipped you off?" I ask blithely, tilting my head in mock confusion.

"Uh… come on in. Two visitors for you, To-Kill!"

"Tell them I am currently optimizing the taste of this morning's sustenance, and I would be pleased if they were to partake!" the soldier calls back.

"You're invited to breakfast," the human needlessly translates.

"Thank you," I answer in the language of Liriope, and repress a laugh as I hear To-Kill drop something with a clatter and rush into the room. He stares at me in utter astonishment, though it quickly changes to glorious, grateful rapture. He stands up straight and emotes unending loyalty with his eyes.

"Princess Malrosa," he greets me, voice cracking ever so slightly. Were he human, he'd be sobbing with joy. "I am at your command."

I'm not surprised he recognizes me. I am a Princess, after all, and every man knows his rulers.

"You have done well to survive alone, To-Kill-From-Above," I tell him, again in our language. "And you have done well building such a suitable base of operations. Your faith in Liriope has been answered."

"Will we be purging the savages?" he asks, not a hint of hesitation in his voice despite the trickle of fear in his soul. He likes this town, he has grown to like its people, but his loyalty to me far outweighs it. Truly an exemplar of a soldier. Thankfully, he will not need to prove it.

"Not these ones," I assure him. "We will be allying with the people here to conquer the island in Liriope's name. For now, continue your normal routine. I would, after all, like to eat the breakfast you invited me to."

"Yes, War Princess!"

Hah! How bold of him! 'War Princess' isn't a real title, but it is something I've been colloquially called, due to all my training with Queen Nagatilka. Though in this context, it's less a nickname and more a logical extrapolation of what I should be called: I'm not a Queen, so I can't be a War Queen, yet I'm clearly the War Queen in charge here. So… War Princess. Still, I shouldn't let his informality become a habit. And I need to clue him in on what's going on.

"To-Kill?" I say innocently, letting a smile creep into my eyes. "Your deeds here are worthy of praise, so I will allow you to keep the arms my second mother has helped you regrow."

That finally gets a reaction out of him. Confusion, horror… does he think Malrosa is dead? Yet at the end of it, he just nods. A human expression, how funny.

"So. You have shed your skin to become Athanatos in truth," To-Kill surmises.

"We are one," I reassure him. "Your fractured loyalties have combined within me. Our paths are clear, now."

He relaxes at that, and nods again. He probably would have obeyed me even if there was nothing of Malrosa left, just for having this body, but now he doesn't even have a shred of doubt about doing it. He called Vita 'Athanatos of Skin,' after all. Both parts of me were destined to be Queens. My new form only makes right what had once been confusingly wrong.

"I await your orders, Princess Malrosa."

"They will arrive soon, To-Kill-From-Above."

He stiffens with respect again, then returns to the kitchen to finish the meal, redoubling his efforts at perfecting it now that he knows he'll be serving a Queen. I like that, unlike a human thrust suddenly out of a casual situation into an unexpectedly formal one, he is not disturbed in the slightest. He's pleased. It's little differences like that which make me prefer my new species to my old one so much.

The humans in the room stare at us, a bit confused and slightly worried about the long conversation that just conspicuously occurred in a language they don't understand, but I just chuckle and shrug.

"Don't gimme that," I say. "We're just catching up! Dude's been away from home for a long time, I figured he'd like a conversation in his native language."

"Vita is, apparently, last night's Hiverock invasion in full," Sano explains to the human that answered the door and his… girlfriend, I think? Who recently emerged to greet us.

"Wait, Vita!?" the human woman gapes.

"Princess Vita," I correct. It's irritating that I have to keep doing that, but I can hardly expect humans to know if I don't tell them. "Mom gave birth to me so she can drop the title. Neither of you are so lucky."

"For a certain definition of lucky," Sano mutters.

I snort with amusement.

"Anyway, I ended the war between Verdantop and what you call 'Hiverock,' so, you're welcome," I inform them. "Though I suppose we're also starting a war with Valka since they probably won't let me send island resources back up to Liriope but… y'know, that'll be way easier."

"Wait, did we end the war with Hiverock?" the man gulps awkwardly. "Or did we just get drafted to their side?"

Huh.

"I mean, I guess you guys kinda got drafted to our side, sure," I concede. "I don't think it's a good idea to present the situation that way, though. People might not like it."

"Uh, yeah," the man agrees lamely.

Breakfast is soon served, and it's delicious. I make sure I don't miss a single crumb before excusing myself. I'm still making the rounds, after all, and there are a lot of important people I still need to go see. Some of the most important people, even, but they've been asleep until pretty recently. Only now do I finally have my chance.

As more proof that To-Kill knows how to design a damn encampment, my human family's home is not in the residential area proper, but rather a complex in the center of the city next to where all the souls of people to revive are kept. Which is to say, the most important things are all in the most well-defended area of town, exactly how I like it. Ronnie, Basra, Katie, Norman, Rafael, Jari, Dudel, Sonja, Jarod, Larkin, and Sylvi. I remember their names now, and always will. They live right next to where we house Angelien's soul, alongside Lyn and Rowan. I really, really want to go scoop them all up into a huge hug, but unfortunately they're slow to rise, slow to eat, and not entirely awake. That's okay, though. The other people I need to see are next door.

Vitamin lives with the rest of my family too, but she doesn't sleep so she seems to have spent the night with Theodora, who also lives next to the soul repository for ease of access. The two of them are chatting in Theodora's living room alongside Nugas, while Keero the Cunning, of all people, guards Cassia the Maelstrom, who is locked up in the basement. Ketevan the Worldshaker tends to stay outside of town, for obvious reasons, so she isn't around… not that I feel any real need to go talk to her.

Sano and I parted ways after another hug, so I knock on the door to this house alone. A cheerful "I'll get it!" from Vitamin rings out through the house, and I hear her little feet pitter-patter up to the front door and open it. Her dry, gaunt flesh is starting to decompose despite everyone's best efforts, putting a bit of a macabre edge to her grin. I don't care, though. She's beautiful no matter what.

"Hey, Vitamin," I greet her, opening up my arms for a hug. "Mom's home."

It only takes a moment for recognition to set in before Vitamin squeals and leaps into my arms. I catch her and give her a spin, nuzzling my face into her hair (but not too hard, since it might all just fall out). I let myself into the house as Theodora also rushes towards us, a complicated expression twisting her partially-bone face at the sight of me.

"Vita," she greets me breathlessly. Literally breathlessly, she's using magic to talk. Her lungs must have degraded out of usability, or perhaps her vocal chords.

"Hello, Theodora," I greet her. "Have you been doing well?"

She looks me up and down, considering her answer as I lift Vitamin to my shoulders and let her happily kick her feet against my dragonscale mail.

"...Is he in there?" Theodora asks, which surprises me. My Revenants are under no compulsions to answer questions I ask unless I order them to, but their instinctive loyalty makes it uncommon for them to change the subject on me like that. I have to remember that they're not like workers and soldiers, not really. Their reverence is much less cultural and much more… personal.

And Melik is a big personal issue for Theodora. I see no reason to tell her anything but the full truth, though.

"Only as memories," I admit. "We were the same person for a while, and I could replicate a convincing facsimile. I could tell you what Melik would have done, what he would have said. That much of him is still within me, but it's distinct. Static. He is with me to some extent, but he no longer grows, learns, or lives. I am sorry."

And oh, he would ache seeing Theodora's response. The grief is palpable within her, and even worse is how hard she has to fight to hold onto it. Though I suppose he'd appreciate that she does.

"I keep going back to the same thought," Theodora says quietly. "The fact that he's part of you. It… it makes me so happy. I hate that. That's not… it's not what he would want."

"It's not what either of us wanted," I agree. "I never wanted to take his body, let alone kill him over it. It was… well, it was a death during a war. But it was as much of an accident as a death during a war can be, I suppose."

She nods solemnly.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Of course," I assure her. "I wish the two of you could have spoken again. He thought so highly of you, Theodora. You were almost like a second mother to him."

A wan smile lifts the half of her face that still has lips.

"That doesn't sound like something he'd say out loud," she comments.

"Oh, no, never out loud," I agree. "Out loud he said you couldn't possibly be Theodora at all, but you know how Templars can be."

Theodora just nods at that.

"Well, perhaps he's right. After all… it's good to see you, Vita." Her smile opens up wider, the genuine nature of it smiling through. "Despite everything, it's good to see you."

Were Melik still alive, he'd have surely screamed.

"I know," I say instead. "I'm working on that.”

"We don't want you to," Theodora protests.

"You'll want it if she wants you to want it," Nugas chirps from the other room. "So what does it matter? Enjoy the ride for as long as it goes, then enjoy stretching your legs if you manage to get off."

"Oh, please," Theodora calls back. "If Lady Vesuvius had let you enjoy a ride, I'm sure you'd have already talked me to a second death over it."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Theodora, please! There's no need to be crass!" Nugas gasps, sounding scandalized. "Besides, you know full well that when Lady Vesuvius is involved, I always get off."

"Fuck I walked right into that one!" Theodora groans, eliciting a loud set of gleeful cackles that I never expected to hear from a replica of my old voice box. "You set me up! Damn it!"

"...What are they even talking about?" I ask Vitamin.

"It's gross," she answers. "Don't worry about it."

Fair enough, I guess I won't.

"Are you two making sex jokes without me!?" Keero shouts from below.

Oooooh, now I get it. Ew. Speaking of Keero though, I should probably continue ignoring him since I don't like him and pay attention to the prisoner he's guarding instead. The red, tumor-like growth in Cassia's soul has been expertly cut out thanks to Theodora's skill, though feeling out her opinions on Ars indicates that there's still some lingering attachment that she may not even be consciously aware of.

"I suspect you're keeping Cassia here for long-term decontamination, then?" I ask.

Theodora immediately stops throwing insults at Keero and turns to me with a serious nod.

"Yes, she's been infected for too long. Her brain chemistry had started changing to positively associate Ars even though she still claims to hate him, so I'll have to monitor her to prevent that loyalty from partially or even fully reforming in her soul."

I nod. That makes sense, and it gives me a good excuse to not go extend my ultimatum to Cassia. We're obviously not letting her go free if she intends to fight us, after all, but I don't really want to deal with that before I get to go see my family and unwind a little while. And speaking of, they're all finally awake, which meaaaaans…!

"Welp, time to go see grandpa, Vitamin!" I announce, jostling her on my shoulders. "I'll leave you to your work and drop by later, okay Theodora?"

"Sounds good," Theodora nods.

"It was wonderful to see you again, Princess Vita," Nugas primly chirps.

"You are as delightfully disturbing as always, Nugas," I answer.

"Thank you very much, Princess Vita!"

Man, that little freak is actually growing on me. I'm not sure how to feel about that, so I depart without thinking any more on the subject, heading next door to finally, finally see my family again after so long. Like, holy shit, I only got to see them one time after getting out of prison! One time! They only moved out here after I died and ended up royalty!

…Heh, oh man, I can't wait to feel the delicious dumbfounded shock in their souls. It's going to be so great! I knock on the door and little Sylvi comes to answer it, one of our youngest. She stares up at me, her eyes going wide as I slowly, carefully open my mandibles like I'm about to gobble her up.

"...Aww," she whines, seeming disappointed. "Mom said you were going to be fuzzy."

I clap my mandibles shut again. What?

"I… am fuzzy," I protest. "I just have armor on."

"Well take it off, then!" she petulantly insists.

"Sylvi, please invite your sister inside before ordering her to strip!" Rowan calls out, stepping into view, a cheeky grin on his face. We lock eyes and I just about collapse with relief. He looks… relaxed. Comfortable and happy in a way I've never seen in my entire life. I step inside my house, closing the door behind him, and bask in the rainbow beauty of his soul.

"Hey Vita," he greets me with a nod.

"Hey dad," I manage to greet him back, and he beams with joy.

"Hey, weirdo," Basra greets me as well, sticking her head out from behind a corner. "Catch."

With a slow-lobbed underhand, she sends something dark and round spinning my way, which I carefully and lovingly take from the air and cradle in my arms. Rosco. It's Rosco! They kept him safe for me!

I let Vitamin down from my shoulders with two arms as I cradle Rosco with my other two, taking in every extra pair of eyes that starts peeking into the front hall from around various corners. You see, Malrosa? This is our other family. Younger, bigger, and every bit as beautiful. The first people to believe in me. To support me unconditionally. We wouldn't even be half as well-adjusted as we are without them, and isn't that a scary thought? I hope Talanika will grow to love them just as much as I do.

"Welcome home," Rowan says, his grin still sticking firmly to his face. "Wanna come sit down and tell us what happened? We have a couch now!"

"Yeah," I agree. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He leads me into a well-used living room, full of toys and worn furniture and an impressive amount of wear and tear for a place that's only been lived in for a few months. I suppose having a family in the double-digits will do that to a house; I'm the only person that lives in my home on Liriope, the servants just maintain the place. I gratefully collapse onto the couch and start telekinetically undoing my armor since my arms are occupied with Rosco, and just… fuck! I'm home! I'm safe, I don't need the armor for once! It feels great letting it peel off, surrounded by people yet not feeling the usual motes of paranoia I'm used to when publicly underdressed.

Sylvi squeals with delight the moment my chest armor is off and the true degree of my floofy setae is revealed. I instruct her to be careful with it since it's sensitive and teach her the correct way to stroke it, running her fingers from top to bottom like how Tala and I often do for each other. Her squishy human fingers feel quite different from the hard claws-and-pads of Athanatos hands, but not in a bad way, and before long I have a collection of various siblings clambering onto the couch and petting my chest, arms, legs, wings, head… it's a bit overwhelming, actually, even in my dulled sensory state, but overall it's quite delightful. Sure, they're crawling all over me like I'm some kind of big, domesticated pack animal or something, but being groomed by a half-dozen different people I love and care about still puts me in a nearly thoughtless state of calm, able to just enjoy being here. We chatter, we laugh, I tell my story of becoming a Templar and then a Princess, I regretfully inform them that no, they are not also Princesses (or princes, for that matter. Princes! What a silly concept!) but they're just about the next best thing. It's just… wonderful. Indescribably wonderful.

This feeling is why I'm here. This feeling is what I have to protect. For every part of this island that I hate, there is a moment of love and joy and beauty that makes it all worthwhile. But we shouldn't have to put up with the wretched bits to get to these moments, should we? That's not a necessary part of the world. I'll drive the evil and cruelty away, so that every good family like mine can live like this forever.

Unfortunately, however, I haven't accomplished that yet, so this amazing time doesn't last forever. Many hours pass, lunch comes and goes, and it's nearly time for dinner before it all finally ends, but the end is indeed arriving. Penelope approaches our door, and I know I'm going to have to talk with her about the future before we can start making my dreams into reality. She knocks on the door, and with a great and mighty exertion of will, I stand up.

"That's for me, I think," I tell everyone. "It's been wonderful seeing you all. I'll be back later, if that's okay?"

"Okay?" Rowan parrots incredulously. "Vita, there's been a room waiting for you since we built this house. You don't need permission to come home."

I pull him into a two-armed hug, since my other two arms are still cradling Rosco. I have not let him go since I got here.

"I'll see you tonight then," I promise, and head for the door. Penelope waits on the other side, determined and chained and uncharacteristically anxious, despite her active efforts not to be. I open the door for her, and give her a smile with my eyes that she somehow already understands.

I love her so much, and even after everything she's been through she hasn't forgotten me.

"So," she says. "What's your plan for things, after we've gotten it all sorted out?"

I step outside, closing the door behind me. I still have my armor off, and I'm still hugging Rosco, but I see no reason we can't decide the fate of the world like this.

"No matter what we do," I tell her, "there will be countless people who want to stop us. We'll have to kill them to take control of the island."

"Almost certainly, yes," Penelope confirms. "It's regrettable, but inevitable."

"Do you have any problem with such people ultimately forming the bulk of our workforce?" I ask her.

She narrows her eyes a bit at that.

"You're suggesting that everyone who is killed in the inevitable conflicts between opposing sides be turned into a Revenant to serve the ideology they were previously opposing," Penelope summarizes. "Since you assume this will be effective at establishing a sufficient workforce, you also presuppose that the conflicts will be exceptionally bloody, possibly to the point that there will be more deaths than survivors."

"There will be more people that oppose us than support us, don't you think?" I ask.

"That is, in fact, the problem here, yes," Penelope says flatly.

I tilt my head to show confusion.

"You'll have to elaborate, I'm afraid."

She sighs.

"Walk with me, Vita," she requests, turning to head out. "Let's have a talk about morality and ethics."

"I'm not particularly well-versed on the differences," I admit, falling in step beside her.

"And I am not particularly surprised to hear that," Penelope answers dryly. "Enough people use them interchangeably that I've seen professional philosophers not bother to differentiate the two, but I personally find their separation immensely helpful. To drastically oversimplify, ethics are external, formalized systems of right and wrong, while morals are internal, usually subjective ones. For example, before someone receives a biomancy license, they must swear to a code of ethics which dictates acceptable and unacceptable behavior."

"Oh, you mean like 'don't modify other people's bodies without their consent,' for example," I jab at her, grinning with my eyes.

"Exactly," Penelope answers without a hint of humor. "When I did that, I violated a code of ethics I had sworn myself to, because my personal beliefs—my morals—did not match them. I did not personally believe it was amoral to help someone using methods they were not privy to. Though ironically, I still ended up feeling guilty because if my past self had any sort of moral principle, it was the moral principle to follow ethical principles. This distinction has been a key conflict throughout my entire life, but I digress. The point is, I have always noticed that your moral principles tend towards the tribalistic: you are generous and loving with people that are part of 'your group,' yet ruthless and unforgiving against anyone that opposes you. Meanwhile, you do not follow a particular set of ethics at all, unless you've picked one up during your tenure in… Liriope."

I'm impressed how well she pronounced that on the first try, but I suppose I shouldn't be.

"I can't really disagree with your assessment," I admit. "'People who try to kill me or those I care about' are synonymous with 'bad people' to me, and beating up bad people is okay, and I think that's eminently reasonable."

"I thought as much," Penelope sighs. "And that is the problem. I cannot be tribalistic, Vita. I must codify principles and follow them exactly, especially in times of war and conflict. And these principles cannot discriminate; people will not be judged based on what side of a war they were on, nor on their personal beliefs, nor on how they desire to be happy. They will only be judged on whether their actions bring harm to others."

"I don't see that as much of a restriction, to be honest. When I walk into Skyhope and publicly declare myself the immortal ruler of Verdantop, I assure you that we will have no shortage of people rushing to do harm in my general direction."

"I agree," Penelope nods. "Which is why I cannot allow you to simply walk into Skyhope and publicly declare yourself the immortal ruler of Verdantop. We must minimize harm, including anticipated harm others cause as a result of our actions."

"Well that's going to make it pretty damn hard to plan a war, don't you think?"

She snorts with dry amusement.

"I do, indeed, have a similar thought from time to time."

I nod at that, trying to think over the problem in my head. Penelope wants to make everyone immortal, but… that won't work for a bunch of reasons.

"If people stop dying entirely, the Mistwatcher will kill us all," I inform her simply. "Total population equality isn't possible because total population immortality isn't possible. The souls have to keep flowing, and sapients are big brother's preferred livestock."

Penelope stiffens, gritting her teeth as her scales start to tinge a deep red. She's furious, but she takes the emotion and shoves it screaming into an overstuffed cage.

"You're certain of this?" she hisses.

"It's unfortunately pretty well-documented," I confirm sadly. "Liriope has survived for thousands of years and seen plenty of other civilizations figure out immortality."

"What's the ratio?"

"Significant supermajority," I answer glumly. "Liriope won't let the population of immortals exceed two percent, and we try to stay nowhere near that. Though if you want to risk the island, there are records of ninety percent immortal populations surviving for hundreds of years, and a seventy percent immortal population lasting over a thousand. Those are outliers, though. It's usually way less than that."

"What makes you think these other cultures weren't simply causing a perception event due to other factors and blaming it on the immortal population?" Penelope asks.

"Because when you gather too much metal, the perception event is localized to the source of the metal. When wars get too big, the perception event is localized to the sites of the battles. When you fly at the wrong time, the perception event is localized to whatever is dumb enough to fly when the mists are down. But if a society starts to not die anymore, well…"

"Total reset," Penelope hisses. "You're saying it will destroy the entire island!"

"Exactly," I confirm. "That's where the Shattered Stones come from, and all the other destroyed islands. Immortality is possible, Penelope, but you can't give it to everyone. Attempting to do so will kill everyone instead."

Penelope's scales shift from red to black, which I assume is related to how her soul went from anger to raw, unbridled hatred at the world itself.

"Do undead count as immortals?" she asks first. "Are we already at risk?"

"There is no chance we are currently at risk because nobody starts counting as immortal until the soul supply suspiciously slows for at least a century or two," I assure her. "Only then does Misty care. If we make a million people immortal but increase the mortal population by a proportional amount somehow, we're fine. …Though I don't know if we'd all fit on the island in that particular example. As for undead, a few other empires confirm that Dregs and Risen do not count as immortal people. Revenants, however, are a messier issue. I'm apparently somewhat unique in my ability to make Revenants that don't have to constantly kill things to stay sane, so we're riding a strange gray area."

"Were you seriously planning to form the bulk of our workforce around a 'strange gray area?'" Penelope asks incredulously.

"Of course not," I dismiss. "I was planning on letting them naturally degrade and die. Or just ordering them all to kill themselves after being a Revenant for a certain amount of time, whichever one ends up more efficient."

Penelope swallows, leveling a calculating gaze at me.

"But you said these undead would be formed from our opposition," she presses. "Eventually, after we are in control for long enough to have formalized an island-wide culture, we should have less opposition than we have support. It's not a long-term tenable strategy."

"Which is why we change it once we're in charge," I answer, shrugging. "We have a mortal population and an immortal population. Both live in the lap of luxury while alive, but the mortals are raised to understand that, when they die, they will become Revenants in service to Verdantop. These Revenants will do the majority of the work needed to maintain society, including commanding the mindless undead that will necessarily round out the mundane physical labor sectors. Then they will eventually die, feeding the Mistwatcher and perpetuating the island's existence."

"You're going to make everyone into Revenants?" Penelope asks. "That's… insane. Why would you do that? Why bother putting all that animancy into the equation rather than just using the necessarily-mortal population to maintain society normally?"

"Because Revenants like doing what they're told!" I remind her. "The fundamental problem with a world where everyone is equal is the reality that someone always has to clean the sewer. There are too many things a society needs done, too many things that take experience and training to do, to create any sort of work equality. Someone will inevitably be stuck with literally cleaning shit, and living people fucking hate that, but Revenants don't. They're happy! So if being turned into one is voluntary anyway, doesn't that make it the most ethical option?"

"But why would… oh. Oh, Watcher, of course. Those who do not volunteer to perpetuate luxury will not have earned luxury. That… that is fair. As long as we allow for those who prefer to work while alive than dead, it… no, wait. It doesn't account for how we decide who is and isn't immortal."

"It'd be a merit system, I imagine. Those who have gone above and beyond to prove themselves to us."

"...It is a terrible idea for you and I to be in charge, Vita," Penelope warns.

"Shame that it's non-negotiable, then," I fire back. "Besides, I'll need a woman of principle to keep me in check, don't you think?"

She's quiet for a long time, the terrifying machine of her soul churning and grinding away at itself. How long until it's too worn out to hold together, I wonder?

"Well," Penelope says softly. "I suppose either way we will need to actually win the war first. You've given me much to think about, but our focus for now needs to be Ars. Exposing and defeating him before a majority of the population is converted to his side will aid us immensely in gaining the popular opinion necessary to minimize public outcry when we oust Templar Command, and also it has the advantage of preventing a megalomaniacal madman from mind controlling the entire populace."

"As opposed to megalomaniacal madwomen?" a voice behind us asks.

I turn and nod.

"Well the goal is to not end up megalomaniacal, but I guess to an extent, yeah. Hello, Lark."

The vrothizo is glowering at us, clearly unhappy with what she's heard.

"You can't seriously be considering her plan, Lady Vesuvius," Lark protests.

"I seriously consider all potentially workable plans," Penelope counters. "And I must do so, because my plan is apparently impossible due to a belligerent, gluttonous god."

"But Lady Vesuvius—" Lark begins, but I don't listen to her. I'm too busy turning and rushing towards a soul that just suddenly blipped into my sensory range via teleportation. It's someone I don't recognize, and they're a splice.

"We have contact!" I shout back at Penelope, and then I feel a half-dozen people die.

I snarl and teleport back to my house to grab my armor, yanking it from the couch and casting spells to quickly wrap it over my body. Rowan and three of my siblings are still there in the living room, staring at me in surprise.

"Take care of Rosco," I order them, handing him to Rowan.

"What's going on?" he demands.

"What else?" I grumble. "The war has started."