Rise of Nyssa

Commissioned by: Zeroth17

Written by: Danni Lynn

15,000 words

July 24th, 2024

Synopsis: Katherine Arden is exhausted with her normal life. Her boyfriend drives her nuts and might not be as loyal as he says, her father wants her to take over their family’s company, and she only wants to stay at home and play DnD online with her friends. On the outside, Katherine seems to have everything she could ever want. But this cool and collected woman would rather be daydreaming and cosplaying as an evil sorceress. What she wouldn’t give to live in another world and in another life!

When Katherine’s life ends unexpectedly and she wakes up in another world… will it be the opportunity she has always dreamed of?

CW: Rated R for violence and language. Scary moments, sexual situations, nudity, and character death.

One dark and stormy night, Katherine Arden was navigating the angled streets of downtown with one manicured hand on the steering wheel and her other angrily gesticulating in the air. Her phone was connected over the car’s Bluetooth speaker and the now-very-annoying voice of her boyfriend whined over the pattering rain and squeal of her overtaxed wind-shield wipers.

“I’m just staying it’s not a big deal!” Brian snapped “I just had a few drinks. I don’t see why you needed to go off on me like that!”

Katherine’s lips curled. Her dark hair stuck to her face and her water-proof mascara was really being put to the test tonight with all the rain, tears, and what not. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and snot trickled out of her nose.

If only Brian would listen to her for once in his life. He was lucky enough to be dating someone like her but if that fool made one more misstep—

“I’m the one who gets to decide if it was a big deal or not!” Katherine snapped. She guided her GMC around another tight curve and drifted into traffic heading for the freeway. “I saw you put your arm around that skank. Did she offer you something? Did she give you her number for a little fun once you’re done with me?!”

Brian had been hanging all over another girl at the party they had attended. He was nice, except when he was drunk. It was all too much to deal with. He must know how good he had it to date the daughter of a wealthy oil mogul like Katherine. She wasn’t only beautiful but was one hell of a catch! If only that was enough reason to have someone loyal to her.

Between her wandering boyfriend, —an item one must maintain to look good amongst the other low-lifes at school—her strict father trying to prepare her for a life of business, and all her rich-spoiled classmates (albeit she fits into both those categories herself) would tear her apart the second she didn’t attend their parties and keep up to date with the status quo. So what if Katherine preferred to stay at home in her pajamas and play board games by herself or D&D online with her slightly more “real” friends? If only she wasn’t this loser, too scared to be herself or stand up for herself and would quit acting like the “perfect” daughter.

She would much rather dress up as an evil sorceress and go to cosplay events than one more socially-elite-but-stupid party. She would give anything for that!

“You sorry piece of—” Katherine sucked in a big breath and shut her eyes as she bellowed, “I’m done with you! We are off! You will never have to deal with me again!” She smashed her finger on the end call button and clasped the steering wheel just as a bright flash split across her windshield.

That was it. It was over. She’d never have to—

A screech pierced the night. The headlights, not just a passing light, barreled toward Katherine with a Chevy truck behind those same beams. The driver, drunk and hanging over his steering wheel careened right towards her.

She didn’t have time to react.

All at once, all sense of noise, feeling, sight, and self, disappeared into a mangled heap of chaos.

***

Usually when people die, there is an end. Communities and religions have speculated for a millennium about where people go, what souls are, and what is at the end of every humans’ journey.

For someone like Katherine Arden, her father was likely to throw a lavish funeral, dry-eyed, as he shook his co-workers and clients’ hands. She always supposed she would have the fanciest casket and her makeup done up by some near-dead mortician. When imagining such an event, she hoped for lines of mourners, all bearing bouquets, letters, and testaments of their mournful sorrow.

But, as Katherine sat up and picked grass out of her hair, she knew no one would honestly miss her. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about a funeral after all?

A soft wind caressed her cheek. The sky had cleared but instead of the freeway’s on-ramp, tall buildings, and other vehicles… the dark landscape had been replaced by rolling golden fields. Her car was nowhere nearby, there was no drunk driver, and there was not a scratch on her whole body.

“What the…” Katherine looked at her hands. The golden sunshine made her pale, upturned palms look almost translucent. She was dressed in a purple tank top and black slacks, the same she had worn to the party.

She had seen the car. She had been in an accident—right? Had she died? Was this some kind of heaven or purgatory? She wasn’t the nicest person… Katherine pushed the waving grasses aside and rose to her feet. She was about to look down and check herself more fully when a chuckle sounded behind her.

“Well look what we’ve got here,” a voice said.

Whipping around, Katherine came face to face with a squat man. He was dressed like a villain in a cheesy 80s fantasy movie. Wearing leather breeches, a thickly woven shirt, and a crumpled hat that had seen better days, his unshaven face gave way to oily skin and broken, yellow teeth. A sword and dagger hung at his side.

Behind the man was a smoking campfire and several others, all lounging about and drinking.

It was as if Katherine had appeared out of thin air.

“Looks like we’ve got some entertainment for the evening!” one of the bandit’s crowed. He pulled a dagger and approached, licking his lips.

“What?!” Katherine yelped. She didn’t bother asking who they were or even more importantly, where she was. She just knew she had to run!

They lunged. Hands snatched at her arms and legs and weapons screamed as they were drawn from their scabbards.

“Pin her down!”

“Leave a piece for me!”

Katherine back pedaled, slapping away at their attempts. Her heart hitched and panic filled her chest.

“Stay away from me!” Gathering herself, Katherine bolted across the meadow. Her legs carried her far to a distant tree line where she managed to escape. The doddering men were slowed down by their afternoon delights, and they eventually gave up the chase once she was too far away.

Gasping and out of breath, Katherine collapsed behind a tree once she was sure they were no longer following her. Little cuts burned her bare legs from her escape into the underbrush. She wiped away the dirt on her thighs and tried to get a grip on her surroundings.

“Where the hell am I? Am I dreaming?” she wondered. If that were the case, this was an awful dream. The only thing around her were tall pine trees, dripping with sap. The ground beneath her crinkled full of pine-needles, and both fern and witch-hazel cluttered the forest floor.

It all looked like some place she and her online friends would have dreamed up for a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Was she some lost mage, now on a quest? She smiled. If only it were that simple. Maybe the bandits had been a distraction in her journey and a well-placed roll of her die had saved her from their clutches.

But this wasn’t some game. It couldn’t be.

Standing up and dusting herself off, Katherine looked back toward the meadow. If she ever saw those bandits again, she would make them pay. But first, she’ll have to figure out what to do in this strange place. Or, how to wake up if that was the case.

If she had power, she would make anyone who ever slighted her pay. If only magic and powers existed in real life. She could turn her boyfriend, Brian, into a toad and make her family let her do whatever she wanted. Now, that would be a dream!

Turning deeper into the woods, Katherine picked a path between the trees and followed it.

***

After a few hours of walking, the forest began to turn a gloomy grayscale. The vibrant ferns became ashy as the dark trees above blocked out the remaining near-evening light.

Katherine’s legs throbbed as she forced herself to continue on in an aimless direction. Her heels, footwear only suitable for dumb parties, had long come off and were now carried in her hands. She cringed at every bare step, wincing and moaning as blisters formed and slowed her down.

Near evening, a soft light glowed in the distance. Carefully approaching, Katherine walked up to a small moss-covered hut. A fire crackled in a pit and a woman in a heavy shawl sat on a wooden bench, staring into the flames. At Katherine’s approach, she looked up with a homely smile.

“Oh dear… what have you gotten yourself into?” she asked.

Katherine stood on the edge of the firelight, like a stranger waiting to enter a home. She wavered, thirsting for the warmth of the flames and to take a seat after hours of wandering.

“I…” Katherine swallowed. She was usually the kind of person to handle things herself. She was sure-headed and more stubborn that anyone she knew. But, she had been attacked, was in a strange place, and tears burned in her eyes. In only a few hours, she had fallen into desperation.

“I need help…” Katherine whispered.

“Come sit by the fire,” the woman said. She got up and showed Katherine to her seat. She had long amber hair, pulled over one shoulder and woven into a braid. She wrapped her shawl around Katherine’s shoulders, revealing twisting tattoos up and down her arms.

“I have some soup cooking inside that I can share. Are you hurt? Where did you come from?”

Her questions were innocent but something about her cadence hinted to Katherine that the woman might already know the answers to her questions. She didn’t stare at her obviously different clothes or look concerned. Instead, she remained as calm and compassionate as a monk.

Bone earrings hung from the woman’s ears, and she had the distinct smell of herbs, gardening soil, and smoke.

“Are you… a shaman?” Katherine asked. Her mind tumbled over the details in front of her, trying to make sense of her situation.

The woman’s eyes widened, and her mouth wrinkled into a smile. She looked to be in her thirties but a lifetime outside in the elements have wizened her features with crow’s feet and smile-lines.

“No dear, I am a witch. Have you never seen a witch’s hut before?”

“No… I don’t know—”

“I’m only making a joke, dear,” she said. “Not many people wander into these woods. I’m just as surprised to see you here, as you seem to be about me.”

A witch. Did she call herself a witch? Like those Tik-Tokers who pretend to recharge their stones in the light of a full-moon? Or did she mean she likes gardening, cooking, and hobbit-style living?

“Oh, you almost had me for a second,” Katherine said. “A witch—hah!”

The woman fixed her with a confused look. One eyebrow lifted and disappeared into her shaggy bangs. "I was teasing you about the hut. But for being a witch, I only speak the truth.”

Katherine froze. She twisted her fingers into the heavy shawl around her shoulders, not knowing what to say. Either the woman was crazy, or maybe she really was dreaming. It had to be the longest dream she’d ever had, but that seemed to be the only plausible answer.

“If you are really a witch, what kind of magic can you do?”

The woman got up and busied herself with a pot. She hung it over the fire on a rack and began to fill it with water from an urn. Walking over to her house, she picked leaves from a bundle of drying plants. The hut was homely with a squat frame and low roof. The smell of something roasting drifted through the open windows that revealed walls of shelves covered in books, jars, and tinctures.

Around the back of the hut, a stack of cauldrons leaned and a small goat with three horns was tied to a stake, lazily grazing under the trees.

“So you want a show?” she teased. “Alright. Keep an eye on the fire. And don’t blink.”

Katherine turned to the fire and tried to follow her directions. The heat caressed her cheeks and the curling smoke perfumed the air. The flames licked a small pile of timber then suddenly disappeared. They went away with a pop as if they were wiped from existence entirely.

“What?!” Katherine straightened up.

“I thought I told you to keep an eye on the fire?”

Behind her, the woman stood with a small ball of flames floating above her outstretched hand. She closed her fist and the fire reappeared as it had been in the pit.

“How did you do that?!” Katherine got up from her seat and rushed the woman. Her long walk and earlier scare be damned—she had just seen magic!

The woman smiled and continued to gather tea leaves from the plants drying over her stoop.

“There are many other things I can do, and I can show them to you in time.”

“Show me? Really?!” Visions of magic filled Katherine’s mind. When she played D&D, she always enjoyed playing a sorceress. The possibilities of spells, ancient runes, and majestic powers filled her with joy. The idea of simply flicking one’s fingers to elicit a magical command was something she only ever dreamed about. Butterflies filled her stomach and her whole body felt light in the euphoria that magic was real.

The woman chuckled to herself. “I can see you would like that. I’m not an old woman yet, but I’ve always wanted to find someone to pass on my knowledge to. I think it’s fate that you wandered into my neck of the woods. What say you…?”

“My name is Katherine.”

“Katherine. Would you like to become my apprentice?” She spoke with such an assurance, it felt as if she had known Katherine for a long time. Almost as if she expected her to appear before her.

If Katherine chose to stay here, she could become the witch she’d always dreamed of during her D&D sessions. All the costumes she had designed over the years cosplaying and all the stories she wrote in her journals about being someone powerful, someone unfettered by the socialite-chains of society.

In this new world, were these dreams actually possible? Was this even real? If she learned magic, she could learn how to protect herself. She could defend herself against any bandits and even better, she would be an all-powerful evil sorceress…

“Yes, please!” 

***

The kindly forest witch took Katherine in and began to teach her about the magical and natural world around them. Katherine was given a small room toward the back of the hut. She slept on a feather and rush mattress, made tea and breads every morning with the witch, spent the daytime gardening, and every evening was a discussion of magics.

At first, Katherine was eager to learn. She quickly mastered simple incantations. She could turn a wilted flower into a blossoming lilac. She could call birds down from the trees and eventually light a fire with a simple chant.

It was fascinating, but she quickly tired of these simple tasks. She wasn’t here to act out a simple farming life-sim. She wanted to go on adventures and learn incantations to burn every bandit in her path; should she come across them ever again.

When Katherine wasn’t studying, she took long walks in the woods. She practiced tracing runes in the pine needles and thought about what she wanted to do while she was in this fantasy world.

“It’s not like I need to know how to boil the perfect cup of tea,” Katherine complained. She flipped through an old book the witch had given her. They sat close to the fire outside. It was autumn.

Katherine was dressed in a heavy shawl of her own and wore a long dark-colored dress. Her face was plain, with no make-up to be had, but her dark hair was striking as it traced its way down her back and over her shoulders. Her dark eyes sparkled, reflecting the flames.

“There are many things a good cup of tea can cure,” the witch responded. “But I agree, I think you are ready to advance your training. What would you like to learn next?”

There were so many things to pick. What would be the most helpful to becoming an all-powerful evil sorceress? She wanted to learn curses, hexes, and poisons. But she’d have to go about it carefully. She couldn’t make it obvious how dark her intentions were. She couldn’t wait to play this world and its people like a fiddle. But the witch would stop her the second she caught wind of her plans. Wouldn't she? She could keep quiet. It's not like she would make a stupid mistake like kidnapping a princess or something painfully cliché like that. She just wanted power. Something to make her stand out.

“I want to learn something more advanced. I thought magic was about power—the ability to make big changes? I don’t want to bring flowers to life until I’m old and wrinkled.”

The witch listened carefully. She set down her cup of tea and got up and went over to wood pile near the hut. She bent down onto her knees and pulled a small brown form out of the pile.

“I noticed this when I was stocking the fire this evening,” she said. In her palm was the still body of a shrew. “The poor thing passed recently. Here.” She handed the little body to Katherine. Katherine flinched, disgusted, but accepted it. The fur provided no warmth, it was a cold corpse.

“Our magics are all about balance. To give life, you must take it from elsewhere. To end a life, you must replace it.” She wrapped her hands around Katherine’s so they both gripped the shrew. “Now close your eyes and focus on the body. Focus as if you are pouring your very soul into it.”

The witch began to chant a quiet incantation. The words dripped from her lips like a spring drizzle. The words laced together, flowed, and pulled at Katherine’s heart. She felt her chest start to strain as if she was holding in a breath and a source of warmth began to beat from between her hands.

There was a twitch.

A little leg kicked. Whiskers tickled her palms. Katherine opened her hands with a gasp. The little dead shrew looked up at her with its beady eyes now full of life.

“You brought it back to life?” Katherine asked. She looked to her teacher. The older woman only smiled.

“From your power, yes. I have some more books I can lend you. We can start rune-driven incantations tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Katherine nodded. She’d like nothing more than that. Finally, she was on to something. This had the possibility to make her great!

***

Three years after Katherine first arrived at the witch’s hut, Katherine was alone inside, mixing a stew for her teacher. The cauldron bubbled as she dumped magically shredded root vegetables and chunks of potatoes into the broth.

The witch was outside, by the fire.

Katherine was gaunter than when she first arrived. Long out of the modern world, her body had thinned in this rustic lifestyle. But rather than a healthy, suppleness, there was a droop of shadow under her eyes. Her cheekbones were sharper, and her lips were pursed in constant frustration.

Night after night, Katherine stole away into the darkness. After years of training with the witch, she cultivated her own powers under the watchful eye of the moon. Katherine practiced dark magics she discovered through some of the witches more valuable books. The witch had kept them under lock and key, but Katherine had long ago stolen and replaced them with transfigured rocks. In the woods, she wrote runes and called forth energies to aid in her magic. She mastered nonverbal spells without the witch’s knowing, and crafted mini minions out of resurrected forest animals, originally killed by her hand.

Here, her power knew no bounds. She needed to test herself and see how far she should go.

She didn’t need the witch anymore.

Gathering two wooden bowls, Katherine ladled out the meager soup. Checking to make sure the witch was still out of sight by the campfire, she pulled a small vial out of her shawl’s inseam pocket. An odorless, tasteless powder sparkled inside.

“This should do the trick,” Katherine whispered. For the past six months, the witch had been teaching her how to brew a variety of elixirs and poisons. They always used one of the spare pots outside to avoid contamination with their cooking pot. But tonight, Katherine had other plans…

Mixing the powder into one bowl, Katherine brought dinner outside.

The witch was sitting huddled under her shawl and with a tired smile. She gratefully accepted the soup and brought it close to her face, inhaling the warm steam rising from the cooked vegetables.

“Ah, nothing better on a cold spring night,” she said.

“You bet,” Katherine muttered. She stuck her spoon in her soup and gave it a swirl, not having much of a stomach for it due to the nerves welling up in her belly.

The witch began to eat without hesitation. She hummed to herself, enjoying spoonful after spoonful. Had she given her the right one? Was it supposed to take this long, diluted in so much food? What if she hadn’t given her enough and it only made her sick. What then?

Katherine groaned and put a bite of potato into her mouth. Next to her, the witch’s bowl suddenly flopped onto the ground and her hands went to her throat.

“Ack, here we go!” Katherine spit out her food and dropped to her knees as her mentor fell to the ground.

“Ka…Katherine? Wh…what is…” The witch reached for her, her fingers clawing at the air. Katherine dodged her and instead hurried away to grab a spare pot and throw it on the fire.

“What…” the witch’s voice disappeared. Her mouth opened and a great sucking noise whooshed out of her throat.

Pouring well water into the cauldron, Katherine quickly set to work. She traced runes in ash around the fire pit and sprinkled dust into the water. She then gathered her ingredients and methodically began to break down the witch’s body with the same knife she had used to cut their dinner’s vegetables only an hour before.

It was short, bloody work. As the moon rose high in the sky, a deep yellow at its zenith, she cast her mentor’s blood into the cauldron and the potion began to hiss and bubble. A burnt coppery smell filled the air, burning Katherine’s nose and throat.

“Fac me pura. Fac me esse…” Katherine chanted. She stirred the pot and splashed the mix over a set of runes at a time.

“Pulchritudo tenebris, nox tenebris. Sub tua potestate in virtute tua...” Katherine dropped the ladel and threw her hands in the air. “Donum super me tua pulchritudo. Vibrus tuis—”

Katherine ripped off her shawl and pulled down the front of her dress. Plunging her arms into the boiling water, she screamed. The hot concotion merged with her skin, melting and fusing instead of burning her away. Katherine splashed and washed herself in it as she continued to wail.

“—et inexpedia caro! Ex virtute tua esto!”

Upon her last plea, Katherine scooped a handful of the elixir and brought it to her lips. It was a boiling mix of read and black, looking more like a molten marshmallow, rather than a product of dark magic. Clenching her teeth, she felt the heat on her lips as she held it close. The skin on her arms had already begun to slough off and her body was soaked with the burning liquid.

Was this really the answer? Would this spell really work?

Katheirne swallowed the burning elixir. The cauldron bubbled over and dissolved into a black cloud. Katherine fell back as sparks blew and the entire forest around her dissolved into a wild inferno. Her clothes burned away and she blacked out.

***

Cold, early mists come down from the hills and coated the forest in a mourning veil.

Katherine lied on her back, naked, and covered in shivering gooseflesh. Black ash covered the ground around her and an acre of land around the witch’s hut had been reduced to embers from last night’s spell. The remaining trees stood like dark toothpicks against the gray sky.

Katherine’s eyes flickered open and she groggily sat up.

“Ugh… did it work?” She cupped her hands over her chest and pulled up her legs, as if to protect her bare flesh from the hellscape around her. The firepit, the cauldron, and the body of her mentor were all gone. What was left of the hut was a pile of ash and the entire area was heavy with smoke.

“I need to get out of here.” Standing up, Katherine wobbled. Bare foot, she hurried through the wreckage and away from the woods where she had spent her last three years.

Katherine walked until she was beyond the zone of destruction and back under the protective boughs of the surrounding forest. She walked south until she came to a meadow where a crystal-clear creek bubbled through. In the distance, a small farm and livestock dotted the fields.

Collapsing by the stream, Katherine plunged her hands into the water and greedily drank. The water was sweet. It splashed, refreshingly, against her skin. Shivering, Katherine sat back and looked at the rippling water as her reflection came into sight.

Last night she had tried to make an elixir for immortality and god-like beauty. To her, it was hard to tell if it worked. The bottoms of her feet were unscathed from her journey through the woods and not a scratch was on her pearly-white skin. In the water, her features were very different. Katherine’s dark eyes were now a ghostly gray, reminiscent of the ashes of the witch. Her long dark hair had a purple sheen to it and looked like oil, moving soft and silent as a perfect length of silk. Despite having passed out and slept in the open all night, her lips were pink as flower petals and were plump and healthy. Her body felt tighter, more luscious.

“Did it work?” Katherine whispered. She touched her skin and brushed back her hair. Was it all just her imagination? She reached forward to poke her reflection in the water and dare it to change and reveal her old visage when another figure appeared beside her own.

“Are you alright?” a soft voice asked. A girl stood by the stream across from Katherine. Katherine startled. The girl was about her age and wore a farmer’s smock and apron. She had long golden hair tied back into two braids and a homely face with sun-kissed freckles. Her brows bunched in concern, and she leaned toward Katherine with an outstretched hand.

“Oh, dear,” Katherine mused. Her cheeks flushed. But it wasn’t embarrassment, but power. A simple farm girl could be the perfect pawn. Katherine sat up, baring herself to the girl without an ounce of shame. The poor girl’s eyes lingered on her nakedness before she looked away with a blush.

“I—I’m sorry—I—”

“No worries, dear,” Katherine whispered. She took on the tone of her late mentor. Charming and unassuming. “I need your help. Do you think you could spare some clothes and food… for me?” Katherine pouted on this last phrase.

“Of course! Wait right here!” The girl sprung into action and raced back toward the farm. A few minutes later, she returned with a smock, cloak, and a basket of food. Katherine got dressed and accepted the food quickly. She had places to be and worlds to conquer, of course.

“I hope this is alright,” the girl said. She fussed with her hair and stood a little too close to Katherine than she liked. Her eyes followed her every move like a little lovesick puppy.

Katherine straightened her clothes until she was satisfied. She could alter them into something better with a little magic once she was on her way.

“This works, thank you,” Katherine said. She blew a kiss at the girl. The girl’s eyes widened, and she bubbled into a clumsy giggle.

“What’s your name, so I may thank you properly?” Katherine asked.

“Cera Millstone,” she answered.

Katherine crossed her fingers behind her back to trace an ancient rune across her cloak. The telltale buzz of power filled her belly and warmed her throat. Magic laced the next words she said.

“Don’t forget me, Cera Millstone. I welcome the love in your heart. Thank you.”

Cera blinked. Her eyes dilated and her smile faltered for a moment.

“W-what is your name?” she stammered back.

Katherine didn’t want to be known as “Katherine” anymore. It was time to put that part of her life behind her. But there was one detail from her old, boring life she wanted to hold onto.

During D&D campaigns, she played as a Witch Queen. It was fitting she became her now, wasn’t it? An evil sorceress, a ruler of lands—a witch queen! —deserved a proper name and title. It was time to give life to her sacred identity. A name that has already survived many dice-bidden conquests.

Katherine looked down at the girl. The power in her core grew, ready to speak her new identity into reality.

She spoke.

“My name is Nyssa.”

***

Deep within the strange land where Nyssa had found herself eight years ago, she was far from the plains she appeared in and the old witch’s forest. Now, she lived far away, tucked into the mountains at the peak of the natural landscape.

Within the rocky folds of the high rises, a castle sat within the shadow of a crooked peak. A handful of spindly towers, chimney stacks, and exposed stone poked out from the natural cliffs. A wall on the eastern side of the castle swept up the natural rock, with chunky bulwarks and a large balcony protruding from the castle walls, providing an excellent view of the surrounding lands.

The dark mountains curled toward the sky, reaching like claws grasping the velvet fabric of twilight. A roll of thunder echoed in the distance and the air had an early-winter nip to it.

Leaning on the balcony’s railing, Nyssa tapped her long fingernails as she breathed in the wintery air. Her hair had grown long in the past five years. Her purplish-raven mane stretched far past her waist, even with half the length wrapped around and braided through an obsidian circlet upon her brow.

Her dress was made of the finest silk and the many layers boasted several designs and patterns alternating from black, gray, and royal purple. The fabrics were gathered up by a belt at her waist and the top sported a plunging neckline, pointed shoulders, and a large cape clasped around her neck. Her dress shifted as the wind picked up, howling a dark promise. Was it to cheer her on or to denounce her for her sins?

Scowling into the darkness, Nyssa’s fingernails continued to scratch and click in ascending rapidity.

Behind Nyssa, two black wrought-iron doors were open to her personal quarters. A large four-poster bed sat by a blackened fireplace with a large cauldron over the flames. A putrid stink emanated from the bubbling cauldron. On the far side of the room, shelves full of bottled potions, ingredients, and messily labeled containers, crisscrossed the room. Boxes of rare treasures covered the floor and drying herbs hung from the rafters.

Nyssa wrapped her cloak around herself and stormed back inside. Three of her trusty minions hurried about her room, tossing ingredients into the pot. The minions were a mix of mottled rotten flesh and somehow-still-functional bodies. They wore an assortment of stolen armor that decorated their heads and chests. One was a tall gangly man, reanimated. Another was a golem she had sculpted from ash, but it had a hard time staying together. The third was a buff creature crafted from dark magic.

When it came to creating minions, Nyssa had had her share of experiments over the years. She’d always remember her first creations back in the witch’s woods, but she had come much further since.

Once she had set out on her path to become a real evil sorceress, Nyssa dove into practicing darker magics. If she wanted to establish her seat of power and build a following, she would need a force to do so.

Her first attempts at creating minions made formless monsters. They were shadowy creatures with tall, towering necks of flesh, glowing eyes, long tooth-filled muzzles and pointed ears. The monsters were wonderful at striking fear in the locals she came across. She even used them to punish any bandits she found, hoping word of her terrors would reach the fools who had dared attack her when she first appeared in this world.

But those creatures burnt out of power quickly and were ungainly to direct. They created a spectacle but at the end of the day, they were poor creations.

Further experiments resulted in spawning quadrupedal creatures with the same wolf-like features of the first attempts but they were able to run around and launch themselves at their prey. That was, of course, delightful but again she wished to have minions that were more influenceable. Meat-eating killing machines were lovely but minions who could take orders and follow directions like a person would be much more helpful.

To achieve her goal, Nyssa had begun focusing on reanimation because using dead bodies and carcasses helped provide a base for her creations. While no life remained in the corpses, the left behind elements leant power to the creatures she wanted to create. It gave her a roadmap and energy to the entire process.

Creation always drew from the preexisting. Nothing could be made from scratch. The old witch had taught her that.

The minions wandering around her room now were reminders of her not-so-great experiments. One was a little too wobbly while the others were not the best at understanding directions. It all had to do with what she put into the spell. But now, after spending years perfecting her new strategy, she was finally ready for a bigger, better challenge.

Nyssa joined the excitement and began gathering bottles off her shelves. Eyes of newt, powdered troll toenails, dried leaves of a blood tree, and scales of a walking fish. Popping open the corks, she reached in for a handful, pinch, or smidge of each one and tossed them into the bubbling cauldron. The putrid smell turned to a sour orange.

“You put in too much valerian,” Nyssa spat at the shortest of her minions. She gathered beetle wings and dried cardamom. Dropping those in, she picked up her stained ladle, plunged it into the pot, and began stirring with effort. The potion started to swirl and a soul stone, the heart of an ancient creature she hunted far in the southern wilds, clanked around at the bottom of the cauldron like a big soup stone. It was her key source of power, drawing all these ingredients together.

Nyssa began to chant.

“Adporto praetermitto da mihi potestatem tuam…

“Animam coram te surgite et mundo nostro coniunge…

“Solve pedes. Tuas Pugni…

“Coniugo!”

Nyssa dropped the ladel and pointed to the hearth. “Hurry, move it!” All three minions surged forward and gathered the cauldron between them as Nyssa continued to chant, focusing on repeating the opening lines.

The minions stumbled to the balcony, their knees knocking and trembling. At the center of the balcony, a large chute stood open, extending down to the valley below the castle.

Nyssa followed, a green glow starting to flow from her body and into the cauldron.

“Solve pedes et tuas pugni…”

The minions balanced the cauldron, ready to dump its contents down the chute. Nyssa went to the railing and looked down as the green light began to boil into a cloud around her.

Far below, hundreds of feet down the cliff face, hills of bodies filled the valley. Human, elves, wild animals, livestock, and anything else that dared to ever stand in Nyssa’s way—or were unfortunately convenient to decimate for her growing cause—were side by side, rotting into the rocky ground.

The minions dumped the cauldron, and the contents splashed into the chute, rushing down toward the piles of the dead. Nyssa’s voice rose as the green fog left her and followed with the potion.

“Meo meo! Coniugo!”

The potion rolled down the slope and splashed down. As it hit the bodies, it began to hiss and bubble. It pooled over the chest of one villager and drained into the mouth of a dead deer. Wherever the potion touched, the bodies started to steam, not as if they were giving off heat, but as if the very air around them was being sucked in to fill the flat corpses. The villager’s chest rose as he took a deep breath from beyond the grave.

The green fog joined the potion’s efforts, corralling it and sending it in different directions as it spread from corpse to corpse. Soon, the entire valley below was covered in the fog as Nyssa screamed from her height of power.

“Coniugo! Coniugo!”  

Her eyes bulged and a twisted smile stretched her features. She shook her fists and burst into maniacal laughter. The spreading fog filled her with a giddy, inexplicable joy. The fog continued to roll, and a loud hissing filled the air. Soon, that noise was dwarfed as a thousand moans, cries, and vicious groans rose to answer her cry.

“Rise! RISE!” Nyssa screamed. Her presence and power projected her voice from mountain top to valley.

This was her greatest achievement. A new level of power unlocked.

With an army at her fingertips, she would be unstoppable!

***

For years, Nyssa’s castle in the mountains had served two purposes. It was her throne and place of power. Her castle was also nearby an ancient temple, tucked away in the northern peaks, where worshippers of chaos lived a monastic lifestyle and guarded a valuable secret.

The monastery was a symbol of this land’s belief system and was—so far—an example of the powers that existed and still withstood Nyssa’s influence. She had almost every inch of this country within her power, but she needed to claim the temple and its powerful artifacts for her own.

Even better, those artifacts would unlock the deepest levels of dark magic, growing her powers beyond her wildest dreams. Her army may have made her incredibly powerful, but she wanted to be able to conquer and rule with the power in her own pinky finger. To be able to flick her wrist and make an entire body of people bend to her will was her darkest desire. The only way to get there was to conquer more. After the temple fell, she would have the power necessary to conquer neighboring nations next.

Nyssa rode in a draped litter, carried by four minions, as her army marched upon the temple. The distant sounds of battle echoed from the obsidian-colored walls hiding the ancient temple within.

Once her minions blew the horns of victory, she stepped down from her perch and walked inside. The front gates hung off their hinges and the grand temple doors were open, welcoming their conqueror.

Stepping over the cloaked bodies of worshippers, Nyssa walked into the entrance hallway and made her way to the inner sanctum. The halls were covered in colorful mosaics and ornamental carpets, now stained in mud and gore.

Walking deeper into the temple, she entered the inner sanctum, and the wet smell of old stone filled her nose. The air dipped a degree colder within the temple’s belly.

The room was dark with a large spiral staircase descending into its dark depths. Nyssa slowly made her way down, enjoying the feeling as she raked her nails down the walls, marking her territory.

“This was too easy,” she murmured. The feeling of such power and capabilities was almost erotic. After completing her first battle a few years ago, she had found she only wanted more. Making villages fall hadn’t been enough and soon, crushing entire continents would be within her realm of possibilities.

At the bottom of the pit, Nyssa approached a carved shrine with a decorated box sitting on a table. Ancient runes traced the edges of the container and old rotted seals were peeling off the sides.

“Ripe for the taking,” Nyssa whispered.

Clasping the container, Nyssa pushed her presence onto the box. Any protection spells or tricks whispered into the stone were undone and the lid slid off with a scrape.

Inside, a shining amulet, the Star of Chaos; and an ancient grimoire, the Word of the Dark, sat together.

They were everything she had ever imagined.

And now they were hers…

Nyssa smiled. She was ready to rule the world.

***

After the fall of the temple, Nyssa sat alone in her throne room, eying the tall windows. Her throne room was a large hall with soaring ceilings, columns, and shining floors. At the head of the room, Nyssa’s throne was carved from stone and decorated with intricate back ironworks.

Nyssa liked to take some time alone after a big adventure. The silence of her cavernous throne room was the best way to do so after spending an entire day with the screams of her victims, the clash of weapons, and the guttural roars of her risen undead ringing in her ears. At least, she tried to relax, but now there was a large army stomping around outside and no matter the distance between her and her forces down in the valley, the echoes of their movements vibrated up the mountain. It was a distant drumbeat, pushing her into a place of anxiety and annoyance.

Swinging her feet over the side of her throne’s arm, Nyssa slumped into her seat and tried to drown out the disturbances. She could cast a spell to push silence into the room and create her own quiet little bubble. That was a good idea.

Before she could utter the words, a clatter and stomping feet shattered her concentration. Nyssa bolted upright with a scowl. The throne room doors slammed open, and two minions entered holding a struggling woman between them.

“Your Majesty!” one of the minions garbled. His hands were wrapped around the woman’s arm, pulling her along. His helmet was askew, and his pike had fallen on the ground, forgotten, as he held on.

“We couldn’t stop this peasant—she requested an audience!”

Nyssa straightened herself. In her hastiness, her split skirts had exposed her bare legs, and her hair was quite disorderly. Covering herself and pushing back her hair, she frowned down at the three before her.

“You couldn’t stop her?” she growled. “What kind of guards are you?”  She leapt from her seat and stood to her full height, looking down from the steps leading up to her throne. “Don’t make me return you to the ash from whence you came!”

The guards struggled to the bottom of her throne’s steps and threw themselves to the ground. They tugged the woman with them, pressing her forehead to the floor.

“We’re sorry!”

“Please, forgive us!” the other minion screeched. They groveled and kissed the marble, desperate for her forgiveness. Nyssa watched them for a moment, their grayish skin shivering as they begged her. A smile twitched her lips. She could let them suffer for a moment more…

But the woman on the floor drew her gaze. She was in a torn brown cloak and a just as disheveled dress. Her long blonde hair was snarled and gathered at the back of her neck. She jerked her shoulders, trying to push the minions away but their hands were too heavy. Twisting, she turned her head, her cheek squishing against the floor. Her eyes rolled, two dark storm-clouds as they peeked up at Nyssa.

Something about the woman was familiar. Her face was gaunt and a smattering of freckles marred the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. She didn’t look up at Nyssa in horror but as if she was what she had wanted. Her goal.

The minions had said she was here for an audience, but she had assumed the fools were just saying so as an excuse to bring their finding into her presence. But this woman wanted to be here. As she looked up at Nyssa, she stilled and stopped struggling.

“Let her up,” Nyssa ordered.

The minions let go. Once they were a safe distance away, the woman pulled herself from the floor and sat up in a kneel. Brushing back her wild hair, she continued to stare, her eyes two dark globes, and something about her look reminded Nyssa of a distant misty morning…

It was the farm girl who found her at the stream all those years ago…

Cera.

“N-Nyssa?” Cera asked. Her voice shook. She lifted her hands as if to reach out for Nyssa, but she brought them back to her lap and wrung her fingers. The minions looked up in confusion.

Nyssa barely moved a muscle. She stared down at Cera as if she was made of stone. Why would she come here? Did she want to demand something from her? Was it for revenge due the chaos Nyssa had cast across the land? There could be nothing good about her appearance. Old friends—in this case, someone she hardly knew—didn’t just show up on your doorstep to only say, “hello.”

“What are you doing here?” Nyssa asked.

Cera’s bottom lip trembled.

“It is you,” she whispered. She swallowed and tried to straighten up, but the minions flinched, signaling for her to stay on her knees. “I—I’ve been trying to find you for weeks. No, months! I would have come sooner, even years ago, but my farm—”

“And you’ve come for retribution? Revenge?” Nyssa suggested.

“No! Once my farm was destroyed… I had nothing holding me back. I’ve been wanting to find you ever since we met but I never knew how… I needed to be with you. To find you…”

Nyssa frowned. This wasn’t what she had been expecting. Rage. Sorrow. Confusion… those were emotions she was better at handling. Hundreds of poor souls had begged at her feet over the years for her to spare them but never had someone, or something she hadn’t made with her own hands, come to her willingly.

Nyssa glanced at the minions. “Leave us,” she said.

The minions bowed out and hurried away.

“Tell me why you are here,” Nyssa repeated.

Cera stood up and grasped the hem of Nyssa’s skirt. Nyssa tsked.

“It’s taken forever to find you. My life is in ruins, the farm is destroyed… but losing them meant I could finally commit myself to finding you.”

“I don’t know why you would want to find me,” Nyssa led.

“I’m here to swear myself to you. You have my word, my trust—my loyalty!”

Nyssa crossed her arms. She didn’t quite know what to do in this situation. What would an Evil Witch Queen do? Push Cera to her limits and see if she was truly willing to meet her every need? Torture her and make her admit the real reason why she was here? She couldn’t possibly want—

“Nyssa, I love you!” Cera yelped. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she yanked at her skirts. "I've loved you since I first found you that morning five years ago. I’ve loved you since you opened your eyes and noticed me before you…”

She suddenly dissolved into sobs. Her will to fight left and she was exhausted, lost, and broken. Nyssa twitched, half hanging between reaching out to stop her from crying—more so out of embarrassment—or to step away and turn from her.

“What? You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nyssa snapped. She knelt to tug her skirts out of Cera’s grip, but Cera sniffled and locked eyes with her. Her gaze was raw. She wasn’t trying to trick her, there was no cleverness to it.

“No, I came to find you! I want to be with you!”

“You’re being stupid,” Nyssa argued. How could she? She wanted to yell at her and prove she was crazy, but Cera stopped her. She grasped her hand, wrapping her fingers around hers with the grip of a woman used to a lifetime of back-breaking work.

Her desperation was obvious.

“I love you.”

Cera stood up and kissed her. She reached beyond any boundary between peasant and queen and went for it, grasping Nyssa in her hands and pressing her warm lips to her own. The sudden closeness—the invasion of her personal space! —sent Nyssa’s world a-tilt. She stumbled back, pushing Cera away with the same reaction as if she was slapping a mosquito.

She couldn’t be serious.

“What?! What do you want? Money? Protection?” Nyssa snapped. “I am not here to give charity, I am here to—”

“I am here only to be with you. To aid you. Use my loyalty as you please. You can even put me to the test—see what you really mean to me,” Cera argued. Her cheeks raged a vibrant red but she talked quickly as if she had rehearsed these lines a hundred times. She needed to prove to Nyssa what she felt.

Years ago, Nyssa had charmed her. It was more something she did for fun, to see how she could influence another human being, but there was more to this than that. This wasn’t just a woman she put a spell on. The ferocity of Cera’s raging emotions were obvious in her eyes. These were natural, uninfluenced feelings.

She wouldn’t be swayed.

Nor was she here to take advantage of her.

Nyssa scoffed. She reached out and cupped Cera’s chin in her hand. Maybe she could see what this farmer was made of…

“You should never bare yourself so openly to one who could so easily take advantage…” Nyssa whispered.

Cera leaned into her grip. She looked up at her through her eyelashes with a liquid gaze.

“It’s not taking advantage if I am giving it for free,” Cera suggested.

 After days spent alone with only creatures she had made for herself, Nyssa was surprised as a sudden need blossomed in her stomach. She began to fill with a warmth, a want.

Maybe she deserved a little fun after all her hard work.

Grasping Cera by the arm, she led her to her bed chambers and closed the door.

***

Cera found her way to Nyssa’s bed faster than a nesting hen to its coop. She fell back onto the plush comforter with Nyssa close behind. Nyssa moved over her like a predator. Her shoulders were high as she leaned over Cera, her hands on either side of the woman’s head. She looked down at her, measuring her next move. She looked for an ounce of hesitation in Cera’s eyes but the woman beneath her breathed heavily, her cheeks already flushed in anticipation.

When Nyssa kissed her, she wasn’t gentle. She had no reservations as she dipped down and took what she wanted. She delved into the warmth of Cera’s soft, plum-colored lips. Cera obliged without hesitation, kissing her back eagerly. She was frantic, as if trying to pull some emotion from Nyssa’s mouth. Her lips sought promises, her tongue teased pleasures, and her hands—as they wrapped around Nyssa’s back—asked for comfort.

Nyssa pushed Cera back firmly on the bed and took over. Forcing her mouth open, she pushed her tongue in for a deeper kiss, firmly holding Cera in place during an intimate dance. The smell of Cera’s sweat and the dirt from a life on the road couldn’t mask the sweetness of her hair and skin. Cera squirmed as Nyssa’s hands began to roam, unhooking the clasp of her cloak and pulling down her dress.

Nyssa was in control. She took kiss after kiss. Cera squeaked and tried to keep up, but Nyssa descended to her chest and began to unlace her stay. Pulling away at the fabric, she removed her stay and slid her chemise off her shoulders to reveal Cera’s beautiful breasts.

Cera’s face, arms, and legs were a golden tan, thanks to their regular exposure to the sun, but her nipples were soft pink flowers upon a field of snow. Her breasts, belly, and thighs were untouched by the sun. The wealth of her soft flesh was enough to stir a warmth deep within Nyssa’s belly. She wanted to graze every inch of her and worship the body beneath her, but she had to keep her head on her shoulders. There was no knowing if Cera was truly honest in her claims to love her. She could still be tricking her and trying to take advantage of their previous connection with nowhere to run to.

There was only one way to find out.

She had to push her over the edge.

Dragging a nipple between her teeth, Nyssa started to kiss lower as she continued to pull down Cera’s dress. Cera squirmed and started kicking off her dress until she was bare on the bed.

Naked, she was dwarfed by her long hair, sprawled out behind her on the blankets. Without her heavy cloak and many layers, her body seemed to shrink into a smaller, more feeble form. Before Nyssa was a delicate woman that had experienced many horrors over the years. Little white scars traced Cera’s arms, hands, and legs. Old bruises colored her shins, and a collection of scabs darkened the gaps between her worn-down nails and skin.

Kissing her pale belly, Nyssa settled between her legs where one undergarment remained. From above, Cera watched her with cautious eyes.

Touching her underwear, Nyssa looked up at Cera.

“What did you really come here for?” she asked.

Cera propped herself up on her elbows to look down as Nyssa kneeled and held onto her thighs, ready to strip her naked.

“I came here for you. I am yours to do with whatever you will.”

Nyssa frowned.

“I want you to,” Cera hurried. She made to get up, but Nyssa stopped her.

“We’ll see about that,” she whispered.

Stripping off her underwear, Nyssa revealed the delicate womanhood between Cera’s legs. Down there, her skin was perfect, untouched, and unmarred. Delicate blonde curls decorated her mound, and soft pink skin surrounded her opening like petals.

She was beautiful. She was beautiful everywhere but unlike holding a lover in her arms, Nyssa felt instead that she was a gemstone or a conquered artifact in her palm. She didn’t see the woman before her. She only saw a means to an end, a point to prove. Nyssa got up on the bed and leaned over Cera, nose to nose. As she did so, she reached down and touched her, stroking her with her fingers. Cera flinched and leaned into her touch, her eyes half-closed. She began to breath heavily and turned to Nyssa, begging for a kiss.

Nyssa continued to explore her while rejecting her kisses. She wasn’t here to feel compassion. She needed answers.

“Are you loyal to me?” Nyssa asked. She flicked the button of Cera’s clit and smiled as she flinched. She let her fingers slide to her opening and stroked her, slipping a single nail in and out as Cera warmed up to her touch.

“Yes,” Cera panted.

“Do you swear your utter loyalty to me?”

Cera nodded, biting her lip. Nyssa repositioned and pushed a finger inside her, gracing her insides with an electric touch. The wet warmth of her was exhilarating.  Suddenly, she wanted to make Cera shake, crying with her name in her mouth as she made her come undone. Continuing to stroke her, Nyssa pressed her mouth to Cera’s abdomen and began to kiss her.

“Say it,” she said.

“I s-swear!” Cera gasped. She fell back to the bed, her face burning.

“You swear to serve me.”

“I-I do!”

“You will answer to my every need.”

“Yes!”

Nyssa suddenly hopped off and sat on the bed. She pulled down her underwear, a black lacy piece, and parted her skirts and opened her legs. She fixed Cera with a sinister grin.

“Then prove it,” she said.

Cera, her body glistening with sweat, clumsily got up and kneeled before Nyssa. Nyssa wrapped her fingers in Cera’s golden hair and pulled her in. Cera’s lips met her, and she began to kiss her. She was hesitant at first. But then with a shaky sigh, her breath warm on Nyssa’s skin, Cera began to reach, pulling, and teasing her delicate skin.

Her touch was thrilling. The warmth in Nyssa’s stomach grew to a boiling lava, threatening to fill her head with warm-cottony feelings. Her toes curled as little sparkles of ecstasy prickled behind her eyes. Nyssa blinked hard and tried to focus on the crown of Cera’s bobbing head as she licked and pleasured Nyssa with her mouth.

“You swear to obey my every demand,” Nyssa continued. She started to lean back on the bed, the feelings loosening her composure.

Cera explored her, only pausing to take a breath and said, “I swear, my love.”

Nyssa held on as Cera continued. She basked in the warmth and the private sounds of Cera going down on her. The press and flick of her tongue, the slip of her lips…

I could get used to this. She deserved this kind of treatment. There was only so much simple minions could do but in the hands of this woman, Nyssa could let herself get spoiled every once in a while. Hell, Cera was worshipping her with her very mouth. She could prove to be useful in more ways than one if she let her stay.

Nyssa leaned back, floating in the power of her control. She had the entire country in her palm and while her enemies suffered, she could enjoy herself. She shivered, her mouth hanging open as she suppressed a moan. It was a delicious idea. While others cursed her name, she could just sit up here with her servant going down on her. If her haters knew, it would only make them more desperate to throw their lives upon her pike of power.

It was sweet. Delectable. Devilish.

If only she had taken the farm girl that she met all those years ago with her from the very beginning. This would have added much needed entertainment to her bedchambers after all these years.

Pushing Cera away, Nyssa ordered her back onto the bed. Pulling down the front of her own dress, Nyssa straddled Cera and let her ogle her own stunning body. Cera was beautiful, like the sun rising on a golden day, but she was unrefined in the face of Nyssa’s elegance and power. Letting her breasts hang free, just out of Cera’s touch as she laid pinned beneath her, Nyssa reveled in the view of Cera struggling in her depths of want and passion.

Reaching between Cera’s legs, Nyssa continued to pleasure her, forcing in two and then three fingers as the woman began to buck beneath her and little groans of pleasure escaped from her lips.

"Call me your Queen,” Nyssa ordered. The words rolled off her tongue like a spell. It was powerful. Binding.

Cera’s face screwed up in an attempt to form a coherent thought. She gasped and writhed beneath her touch. Her breasts and stomach tensed as she rode the very edge.

“Say it,” Nyssa said. She plunged her fingers in deeper, stroking, playing. Cera’s entire body trembled and at another push, she let out a wild moan, a cry that held all her pain, fear, and loss from the last five years. She collapsed back onto the bed, spent and a little delirious.

Nyssa stayed over her, enjoying the moment as she straddled her new prize. She chuckled. Cera was going to need some practice if she wanted to keep up with her.

“Say it,” Nyssa hissed.

Cera, her eyes unfocused, looked up at Nyssa with a giggly smile.

“My Queen, my love…”

Satisfied, and ready to praise her quarry, Nyssa lied down and let Cera snuggle up to her chest, their heartbeats becoming one.

As Cera drifted off into a blissful sleep, Nyssa stroked her hair and whispered a curse.

“You swore your heart, so I will take it. You swear to follow my every word, command, and rule. You will not think for yourself, you will not hesitate to follow.”

She dragged a nail down Cera’s arm, springing a little droplet of blood. She let it balance on her nail for a moment before bringing it to her lips.

“And with your offering, you swear your life to mine. To serve until death, and beyond…”

Cera was never meant to be Nyssa’s lover. The dumb farmer had only wandered into a wolf’s den. Whether her intentions had been pure or not, Nyssa did not have any room or belief for that possibility. All she knew was she had just added a valuable minion to her collection, whether the woman was aware of that or not.

Cera would prove to be very useful to her. She was sure of it.

***

Nyssa’s cliff-side castle was abustle with activity, visitors, and feasts. Many years had passed, and the castle had expanded into a sprawling palace, now dominating the mountain tops it used to blend into.

Music poured from every window and wine flowed long into the night as a very special event was about to occur that weekend. Nyssa, was to celebrate her official inauguration as ruler and empress of all the lands…

Nyssa had spent years conquering the entire Arathian Empire. It was the perfect jewel to add to her crown, so to say, and with these countries now in her hands, she was able to declare her holds an empire.

The road to dominating an entire empire hadn’t been an easy one. But any moment that was difficult or proved to be challenging was a gift to Nyssa. She spent more time running out on the battlefield rather than running her own country. There was excitement in her murderous magic and controlling entire hordes with only a flick of her hand.

Outside of battle, her knowledge of her own present-day world led to the creation of innovative advancements in technology and warfare. She forced scientists and blacksmiths to create new and brutal weapons, all bent on becoming invincible to her lesser foes. The guns were so unknown to the soldiers her battalions faced that they were no different than the dark magics she wielded. With her combined might of power, neighboring lands fell easily to her hordes’ advanced weapons and artillery.

And with her attention focused on the violence of conquering, Nyssa kept every dissident, challenger, noble, and civilian in control with a complicated network of ruthless spies, loyalists seeking favors, a secret police force and a universally feared gladiator games she hosted anytime she was home. Everyone reported back to her and she was sure to squash any pockets of opposition.

Fear was the key to it all. No one would dare cross her as the only result would be their downfall and painful execution.

With so much time spent on the battlefield, anytime Nyssa was not elbow’s deep in some kind of action, boredom became her worst nightmare. She constantly needed something to keep her entertained. She was a woman of exquisite tastes and even though she lived off the attention of others bowing down and worshipping her, she hated nothing more than sitting on her throne, rooted to one spot in front of an entire hall of people.

For the opening of Nyssa’s coronation weekend, the surviving loyalists from all the conquered lands had come to visit and pay their respects to the new ruler. Upon her throne, Nyssa was a dazzling sight, more statuesque than a living-breathing woman. Her god-like beauty radiated a sense of awe to all around her. 

Nyssa shifted in her seat, adjusting her dress. She wore a revealing black dress with silver accessories and jewelry. Her hair was down, and her face was painted heavily in accented makeup. The dark mascara and liner around her eyes created a hypnotizing depth to her glare. Anyone who dared meet her eyes were guaranteed to feel a shudder as if gazing into an alluring black hole itself. She at once drew people in, despite the fear of their pounding heart demanding they stay away.

“My Queen?”

At Nyssa’s right hand, a woman stood guard. She was tall with languid limbs and long, blonde hair. Her face was obscured by a mask that only showed her wicked grin and the sides of the mask extended upright—into her hair—to appear again like a pair of curling, black, horns. Her body was clad in a skin-tight leather outfit. Silver buckles, lashes of leather, and chains decorated her buxom body. Her top was wide open to show off the hills of her snow-white breasts. A corset bound her waist, and silver-buckled garters decorated the tops of her thigh-high leather boots.

“Cera?” Nyssa muttered. She looked up at who used to be the farm girl who came to her years ago. The innocent and kind woman had been transformed over the years into the perfect servant and loyal companion. She was one of Nyssa’s greatest pleasures but even more so, she was a hardened assassin, ready to fulfill her every need.

Cera’s cheerful optimism still existed, somewhere deep within herself, as she smiled down on Nyssa. Sometimes Nyssa wondered if those curling smiles were a bubbling bloodlust or if her servant was really enjoying her presence. She could never tell. Nor did she care. But what she knew for sure was that Cera was a practiced executioner. Over the years, she had utilized her to sneak into many enemies’ homes to hand out punishments or infiltrate anyone opposing her.

Heck, someone could look at Nyssa funny and Cera would kill them in a heartbeat.

She loved that about her.

“Do you need anything, My Queen?” Cera whispered.

“I want this to be over with…”

Cera made a move to enter the crowd below the throne, but Nyssa held up her hand.

“Be still, my pet.” She had to get through this coronation, at the very least. Then she could go back to doing whatever she wanted on the battlefield.

Across the room, near the entrance, a gaggle of older men and women were busy shaking hands and greeting whoever entered the room. The group was her crotchety circle of advisors who ruled while she was off at war. They were her tried and true inner circle. Each advisor had been picked during a moment of conquering, offering their services to her in exchange for their lives to be spared. She loved anyone willing to give everything to her, so it was a hard offer to turn down.

Their ranks now swelled to twenty individuals, but she knew how to keep them happy and content in their seats of power. That was well worth not having to deal with any bureaucracy herself.

Of other allies, Nyssa had collected a wide range of followers from different lands. Werewolves, vampires, madmen, shadowy demons, and other dark horrors that terrorized their people, came to her side with the promise of pillaging for more riches. With her new variety of forces, they had conquered the entire dragon-shaped continent and throughout the process, she developed a taste for the exotic creatures under her command. They came to love her and swore their lives to the woman that enchanted them in mind, body, and soul.

In the crowd, a vampire lieutenant discussed his latest conquest with a group of minions as they approached her throne. He was tall and of muscular build. His large canines poking past his lips made her shiver as she imagined them tracing her delicate skin. He caught her staring and shot her a sly wink above the crowd. Nyssa winked back, running a nail over her lips. 

Cera stiffened.

The minions, a bumbling lot, approached Nyssa’s throne alone and collapsed onto their hands and knees in greeting.

“My Queen! We are pleased to congratulate you on your coming coronation!”

“It has been a pleasure to be at your service!”

The trio sat up and looked at her with milky eyes. They were minions she had created herself long ago. They were dressed in rags and a putrid smell wafted from their swampy-skin.

“And what is my reward for such an accomplishment?” Nyssa asked. It was only right if they presented her with gifts. Anyone could swear their fealty to her, but their actions were what mattered the most. She rolled her eyes. Stupid creatures.

“Uh…” the one in the middle, with drooping yellow lips looked around and then back at her. It rubbed its face with a grunt. “We can get you one.”

“Yes, we’ll get you one!” another grunted.

“I know what we can do!” the third squeaked. He stood up and hobbled a step in Nyssa’s direction, precariously close to the landing no one was allowed to pass without her permission. He gestured to her with his clawed fingers. “The clay My Queen likes for her face. We can get you even better products to improve your—”

“Improve?!” Nyssa snapped. “Improve my makeup? Are you saying I don’t look good?!”

She stood up from her throne and pitched her arm toward the minion as if she was lobbing something heavy his way. Her fingers curled and a large crack reverberated throughout the room. There was a high-pitched whine and then a bolt of black lightning exploded out of her palm and slammed the minion in the chest. His entire body was seared without a sound, and he fell back, thoroughly charred and smoking.

“Eeaugh!” the other minions screamed. They ducked and covered their heads, begging forgiveness. Cera put her hands on a pair of sharp daggers at her side, but she stood still, waiting for Nyssa’s next move.

The entire room turned, and all conversations died on the lips of the fearful. A hundred pale or ashy faces looked up to their ruler, giving away their darkest secrets. No on in the room adored or worshipped Nyssa truly. One woman’s shaking lips showed her fear, like a creature who was only trying to survive. Another man’s silent rage burned under his heavily bearded face. These people, while many were scum of the earth themselves, were not loyal as they were beaten.

But Nyssa didn’t notice any of that.

Once the minion’s body hit the ground with a thud, she threw her head back and laughed. Her laughter contoured from a bright, ringing sound to an erosion of resonance and depth. She curled over and began coughing as if having a fit. She was so overcome; tears sprang to her eyes, and she waved her hands as if having to catch the attention of all the guests already staring at her.

“Now that’s a better gift than I could have asked for!” Nyssa yelped. She stumbled back to her throne, oblivious to all the dropping jaws behind her.

This was going to be a long weekend but at least, she always knew how to stay entertained.

***

During the renovations of Nyssa’s palace, a massive ceremony room had been built to overlook the surrounding valleys from the highest point.

Carved directly into the mountain peak, the cavernous room was cone shaped with one side fully open to the cold, mountain air. Nyssa, steeped in magic, loved the chaos of the wind and was impervious to the cold. The wind rushed into the room like a spell, pushing down on and corralling everyone in the space, as a constant reminder that they were weaker and lesser than the elements around them.

All except Nyssa.

The back of the room was encased by two large swooping staircases, leading to a balcony over the floor below. At the top of the balcony was a chalice and emperor’s crown where Nyssa would make her speech and declare her new rule.

Down below, the room was tiled with purple and black stone. Crystal sculptures populated the room, and floating chandeliers lit the space. Expensive silks and the finest materials were used to create decorations, wild table settings, woven archways and long sheer curtains. Actors and musicians entertained, and orators spoke of Nyssa’s bloodthirsty accomplishments with their servants acting out the fall of her enemies.

There were tables full of rare delicacies like stuffed rare birds, game fowl, plates of raw fish, beef tartar, delicate sweets, sugar sculptures, and a bizarre collection of fruits from around her conquered territories decorated the tables like the rarest gemstones.

The gathered guests gaped in awe at the luxurious display as their own stomachs gnawed in hunger. Within Nyssa’s good graces, they were to be spoiled. For example, every bite of a poisoned apple was only going to sink them further into her control.

One woman, Ember, in her best yet torn and stained dress after her city fell to Nyssa’s roaming conquering, fingered a crimson fruit. The skin was delicate, and her mouth watered but she knew she would only taste sand if she ate it. What luxuries at what cost? She had long ago sold her soul to stand here, pretending to celebrate. Beside her, Cinder, another noblewoman from a neighboring county held the top of her purple and yellow bodice, trying to keep her dress smooth and unwrinkled. A burn marred her shoulder and the hem was fraying. There was not much available in such hard times. They were all just trying to make do and survive…

As the nobles waited in silence, the grand doors to the room finally opened and revealed the woman of the hour.

Nyssa was dressed in a sparkling ballgown, dyed in rich greens and blues. The layered fabrics and varying textures were all ornamented with a layer of peacock feathers stretching from her waist and to the floor. A large, feathered train flowed behind her. Diamonds, emeralds, and amethysts encrusted her top and bright makeup made her beautiful features pop.

An audible gasp filled the room as everyone fell enamored to her stunning guise.

As Nyssa entered the room, following a scarlet carpet that actively unrolled in front of her as she walked, golden-trimmed stilettos peaked out from the bottom of her dress and a tall, dramatic slit in the otherwise large skirt hinted at thigh-high boots.

Her arms were covered with shoulder-length opera gloves that ended in golden metal claws, shaped from dozens of rings fused together and bending over her hands like two ornamental gauntlets.

Her dress had a high neckline but a slit to reveal her prominent cleavage as it framed a sapphire-colored diamond hanging from a gold, metal choker around her neck. Half her ebony hair had been twisted up into a chignon bun, with several locks of hair and a remainder of her bangs framing the left side of her face. The right side was all twisted up and tucked away neatly. The rest of her hair flowed down her back and the bun on top of her head was pierced by several long, golden needles, each ending in another graceful peacock-feather.

A bird-shaped green and blue domino-patterned mask covered her face, and her eyes were invisible behind its tinted lenses. Nyssa strode forward, her entire dress rippling with each step, as she made her way toward the stairs, leaving a heady cloud of blended fragrances and incense in her wake.

The crowd around her parted like water only to close in behind for a closer look. Cinder and Ember were pushed around and stumbled as their eyes locked on Nyssa. As Nyssa passed, she reached out to touch some of her audience. She flicked one man’s chin with a teasing finger and blew kisses at others. She was absolutely basking in all the attention. All around her were a bunch of rugrat-looking nobles. Their weak attempts at looking their “finest” elicited a giggle.

They were a pathetic, weak bunch, and she loved being the star of them all. No one there would ever dare to oppose her. They were all too busy wishing they could either bed her or endlessly grovel before her. It was a heady rush of excitement and in some ways, it was better than all the war she had enjoyed.

Approaching the stairs, Nyssa began her ascent. This was the last thing she had to do to gain ultimate control. Events and gatherings were annoying because she was already technically the ultimate ruler, but the attraction of praise and worship made it worth going.

As Nyssa reached the top of the stairs, she came to stand before the podium with a golden chalice, ornamented with miniscule black and silver wires, curling into thorns and roses around the rim. Her golden-clawed hand closed around the cup, and she lifted it up. The dark wine inside, a ceremonial drink. With her other hand, she removed her mask so she could see her reflection in the wine. Her pale, flawless skin sparkled with eternal youth. Her eyes were lined with sharp eyeliner and her lips were a luscious blue green. Above it all, her red eyes burned, bloody roses in their dangerous beauty. If anyone looked directly at her, as a number of the nobles did on her way up, they instantly fell under her spell but to Nyssa, as she looked at her own reflection, the view shimmered and took her back to that rainy day when her old self, Katherine Arden, was driving in the rain, listening to her stupid boyfriend make up excuse after excuse.

Katherine Arden had wasted the beginning of her life daydreaming and trying to distract herself from her real calling. She was a silly geek thinking she could be someone important.

A girl who dreamed of falling into a fantasy world, living in her favorite movie, or simply waking up and finding she had a much better life than she already had when she should have just stood up and taken it all for herself the second her realization was born.

But instead, she was reborn.

“Katherine Arden had been a stupid girl,” Nyssa whispered to herself. “But she’s dead now. There is only Nyssa…”

Taking a swig from the wine, Nyssa swallowed the sweet drink. She dropped the chalice and let it clatter to the floor, spilling the red wine. It leaked over the balcony and dripped down onto her audience below. She picked up her crown, a large and extravagant item she had hand crafted from dark magic. The weight of her own ambition filled it. It was a long, thorny design intermixed with rare jewels and precious metals. Lifting it up with two hands, she faced the crowd.

The entire room fell silent, as if they were only silent specters, incapable of communicating with the living.

“When I first came to your world,” Nyssa began. Her voice was gravely yet a seductive velvet. Her powers projected it effortlessly around the room as her guests were buffeted by the mountains’ violent winds. She stood high above, unaffected and without a hair out of place. “I thought I was lost. I must had fallen into a dream or maybe even lost my mind.

“But I would soon come to learn it was my opportunity of a lifetime. I was placed here and given the chance to become a ruler of your world. I was sent here, destined to make a difference but your world showed me nothing but cruelty. I was attacked by bandits when I first arrived, and I decided that this place was only for my taking. I would never let you find me with my guard down again and I would only make you all pay.”

Nyssa smiled. She looked out into the sky through the open wall before her as if she was challenging the gods themselves.

“But I am gracious. I took over and reshaped your lives. I showed your people how to prosper and live with new advancements and technology. I defeated your own masters and allowed you to live in the beauty that I’ve created because before this, you were all toiling in shit with disease and ignorance. With me, you have culture, innovation, advancement, and purpose!

"We will continue to rule what is now our new empire! And upon my coronation, advancing my title from Your Queen to Empress, I hereby declare the empire of Nyssarath and I, its rightful ruler!” Nyssa’s voice rose into a shout and the room filled with an electric presence. Her magic crackled, filling the air with static electricity. Dark clouds filled the corners of the room, and the harsh winds dipped degrees colder as Nyssa, Empress of Nyssarath, lowered the crown onto her head.

The room erupted into cheers. Scores of hands reached into the air as her brainwashed mob of loyalists yelled and shouted her name.

“Long live Empress Nyssarath!”

“To the Nyssarathian Empire!”

“All hail!”

The musicians and performers struck up a celebratory tune. The various candles, chandeliers, and lighting in the room sparkled and popped like mini fireworks.

Nyssa took it all in with a smile on her face. The crown sat upon her hair, neatly placed over her bun and added to the enormous pull of her presence. She was finally the great evil witch—an empress?! —that she had always dreamed of being. While she was well aware she was the one in power, it was stunning to think she was the one lucky enough to be chosen to appear here in this world and given a second chance. But to her followers and in the stories told about her? Her appearance was predestined. Nyssa was always meant to be.

As Nyssa surveyed the applauding audience, a deep smugness filling her, a rush of movement caught her attention.

At the far edge of the room, along the opening of the wall, a series of—tink—tink—tinks—clattered. The audience was busy applauding her ascendence, but several shadowy figures climbed up into the room via grappling hooks and with a variety of climbing tools and gear, and dropped onto the tiled floor. As a group, they slid off their climbing gear and they each pulled unique weapons. A duo carried maces, one taller cloaked figured slid out a pale sword, two unhooked crossbows from their hips and the remaining others drew small daggers and a set of throwing knives.

They were assassins, here to challenge her rule. Nyssa’s gloating turned into glee. A burning excitement blazed through her as the battle-lust tickled her throat. This was the icing on the cake. She must personally thank—and then destroy—whomever sent this group of toys to her. She was already crowned and cheered, so what else would she have to do that night?

She could smite them all with one snap of her fingers but where was the fun in that? It was time she gave her audience a show.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Nyssa crooned. Her voice took on the volume and depth of a storm, rumbling over the room and striking fear in both her enemies and those loyal to her. Lightning cracked outside and the wind picked up into a whistling pitch. The nobles struggled to keep themselves composed as their hair and dress were torn at and pushed about.

The assassins moved like shadows, diving into the crowd and rushing the stairs. The two crossbowmen took a stand from within the cluster of nobles and began to fire, as if Nyssa would sweat about hitting a few others while trying to take them out.

Leaping from her balcony, Nyssa landed between the assassins attempting to rush up. They leapt back and some slashed their weapons in an attempt to reach her, but a green glow emanated from her body and thrust them all from their feet. The air around her shimmered and they all felt a dead weight pressed against their chests and holding them onto the floor.

“You think you can best me?” Nyssa sneered. She let one assassin up. The spry woman jumped up and swung her mace, the metal ball whirling toward Nyssa’s head. Nyssa dodged and a black bolt of lightning shot out of her hand and straight through the woman’s body. She fell, silent, but her twin shrieked and screamed from the floor.

“Do you even have a chance?”

Crossbow bolts sliced through the air, but Nyssa turned them into ash. She threw out her arms and brought the entire room to its knees. The crowd screamed and covered their heads.

Nyssa’s eyes burned red and her voice turned into a horrific roar. “Do you think you can defy Your Empress?!”

The assassins kicked and struggled. Her power was too much. It was overwhelming. She practically held them in the cusp of her palm and could crush them at any second.

And they knew it too. What hopeless, helpless, little worms. She smiled.

“Then kill us!” the assassin with the sword screamed. “If you have so much power—use it like you’ve used it to kill so many of us before!”

“You monster!” another screamed.

Nyssa’s fingers twitched. She’d heard it all before but something about these pathetic worms still being defiant really got under her skin.

“Call me, EMPRESS!” Nyssa released her hold on the assassins and pulled them all into her vicinity. They scrambled and raised their weapons, bent on trying to land a hit. Nyssa stepped into the chaos, a swaying tree in the wind. She whisked and dodged, letting her enemies spend all their energy on miss after miss. It was a complicated dance, almost comedic if anyone could keep up and tell what was happening in the swirl of cloaks.

Nyssa loved the moment. The swing of steel rushing past her skin, the missed shots, the struggling attempts… it filled her with joy. As she effortlessly dodged each blow, she threw her head back and cackled with laughter. This was her element. This was the best entertainment she could ever receive.

“You appeared in this world and killed our people!” one assassin spat through gritted teeth.

“You’re evil! You were never meant to be!”

“Someone like you should have never been given this kind of power!”

Nyssa flicked her hands and called forth a stream of lighting and dark energy. She mercilessly slashed down two assassins, leaving only four left. Their blood filled the air with a metallic sting.

Cera joined the fight, a rush of blades and power. Her golden hair streamed behind her like a banner as she jumped to Nyssa’s side, but Nyssa was too busy to notice as she taunted the remaining assassins. Cera struck down two with quick slashes and pounced on a third, thrusting her knee into their sternum and knocking the breath out of them before ending them with a stab.

Nyssa stood over the final assassin who now trembled on the ground, once again crushed by her power.

“I was only meant to be,” Nyssa hissed. “I am the chosen one. I am the one who came here and changed this world for the better.” She bent down and grasped the assassin’s collar to pick him up and dangled him above the floor. She glared into the man’s rolling eyes. Tears streamed down his scarred face and his hands clutched her arm, trying to break from her iron grip.

Cera hovered nearby, her daggers out, in case Nyssa needed her help.

Nyssa’s lip curled, her white teeth shining in the dim candlelight. “You thought you had a chance,” Nyssa hissed. “You and everyone else in your world are just as pathetic. No one here is important. You are all only my pawns to be used as I pleased.”

She watched him struggle for one moment more. His hands hopelessly slipping on her arm as her golden claws readjusted from his collar to his neck.

“Y-you will… fall…”

“Pathetic,” she said. “I’m bored of you now.”

She tightened her grip and snapped his neck. The sound popped, echoing across the now silent room. Cera frowned, still fisting her daggers, and the nobles trembled and cried on the floor, afraid to look The Empress in the eye.

***

After the coronation and further celebrations, Nyssa finally retired to her room late the next morning. The sun had just begun to rise in the far distance on a very changed scene. Over the years, the valleys and mountains around Nyssa’s castle had begun to fill with a growing capitol city. Nyssa wanted her palace to sit upon a bustling capitol, full of her own pawns and resources.

She loved overlooking the castle grounds far below where prisoners sat in stockades in the inner bailey. In the distance, her arena stood above a collection of slums and prison yards, ready to host an audience in the thousands.

The morning sun washed the stone buildings below in gold and pink light. Up on her balcony, Nyssa stood alone and naked, immune to the chilly morning air. The air traced her bare skin, painting her in the sky’s heavenly light but none of the warmth reached her.

Instead, she focused on the cold sheets of mist lifting from the lands in the distance, trying to see and think farther than the dragon-shaped continent she had conquered. Nyssarath had only been born but now was just the beginning. The years of her conquests had not tired her nor taxed her endless youth. Nyssa was as beautiful as the day she took on her powers from the elder witch. But the restless hunger in her expression had turned her beautiful face into an overly eager expression. Her dazzling smile was one of hunger. Her eyes were seeking, rather than settled or enjoying the moment. She clutched the railing in front of her as if she was ready to launch herself into the open air and fly away in search of new lands or other empires to conquer.

She needed more. Something else. Her empire was destined to rule for thousands of years under her control. That meant she needed to create a long, exciting list of conquests and adventures.

As Nyssa peered into the distance, bathed in the morning light with only her hair covering her naked body; Cera waited in the background. Near Nyssa’s bed, behind the curtains hanging around the door out to the balcony, she lingered. Shadows played across her form, warring against the morning light splashing her inconsistently. She licked her dry lips, her eyes widening with madness.

A desire and need rose within her. Her eyes stretched open as she drank in the glorious sight of Nyssa leaning upon the railing. Her fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach out and take her into her arms but instead, a single dagger was clasped, trembling as her knuckles blanched white.

Cera took a step toward the balcony with overwhelming love and obsession in her eyes. The light flickered across the naked blade.

A new morning was about to break.