Valentine Slayers (Mind Control/Transformation)

Hey folks.

God damn it's gotten warm over here now. Entirely expected, but it's surprising how difficult the weather can make it to get any work done!

Well, enjoy this story from somewhere a little cooler!

-----

Frosted grass crunched underneath heavy leather boots as two shadows crossed through the grave yard beneath the shining full moon. In the lead was a warrior – a tall woman with blazing red hair, and muscles as thick her head. She wore mostly leather armour, with the occasional piece of metal plating over her vitals, and carried an axe almost as large as she was on her back. Her belt was laden with pouches, potions, and a well-worn chain whip.

Behind her was a much less impressive specimen. A woman wrapped in formless cloth robes; hood pulled down to expose her short, unremarkable black hair. She showed no sign of carrying any weapons, save perhaps the thick book she clutched tightly in her arms.

“Keep up,” the warrior up ahead spoke, her whisper booming through the otherwise silent night. “Don’t make me regret bringing you along.”

“I’m fine,” the smaller woman snapped. “You don’t need to watch me constantly.”

The warrior just rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Behind her, Clarissa shivered and pulled her dark brown cloak tighter around her shoulders, mist streaming from her mouth with every breath. She hadn’t expected it to be so cold. It had been a warm summer - but the presence of necromancy always left an unnatural chill in the air. This much meant there could be no doubt that the dead had been rent from their peaceful slumber.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. It had to be serious if her sister had actually called for her assistance. Maria wasn’t going to talk to her for anything less than a complete disaster.

“When did you dye your hair?”

Ah. Well, maybe there were a few things she’d talk about that weren’t gloom and doom after all.

“As soon as I left,” Clarissa answered, hand rising up to toy with a lock of black self-consciously. It had been a while since she’d last treated her hair, actually. She’d have to do it again soon, or her crimson roots might start to show.

The warrior snorted. “Good.”

… Right, of course she thought that. “Well I didn’t want anyone confusing me with a member of the Valentine family after you and mom made it clear I wasn’t part of it.” There was no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.

“Finally, something we agree on.” If she’d expected her sister to care about her feelings, she would have been disappointed. “I’ve never understood how anyone could mix us up, to be honest.”

Clarissa bit back a response, letting Maria’s sharp words pass her by. There was no point in starting an argument now. The attitude wasn’t new. All of this was practically water under the bridge. Dark, toxic water that would try to eat you if you crossed the bridge, maybe, but it was still under it all the same.

Still, saying that she didn’t understand how people could mix up identical twins was a bit much. Sure, over the years Maria had developed a truly heroic build under the strict guidance of their mother, while Clarissa had, after some early attempts at keeping up, remained a rather willowy lass, but their faces were mirror images of one another. As they’d grown up, they’d both tried everything to differentiate themselves, but ultimately there was no getting away from their similarities.

The dark-haired sister knew it was true. She felt a spike of hurt anger in her gut every time she looked in the mirror in the mornings.

Maybe it wasn’t Maria’s fault that they had fallen out, but the older sister certainly hadn’t helped. Ha, ‘older’. Older by like 10 seconds. But that was enough for their mother, who had declared that Maria was the heir to the Valantine family lineage – and that Clarissa was the spare. There was only ever one Hunter per generation in their family.

Maria, the Valentine Slayer, and… the other one. Hmph.

“We’re here.” The Slayer’s words pulled Clarissa out of her gloomy funk, and she looked up to see that they had arrived in the deepest part of the family cemetery. They’d reached the gates of the mausoleum. The crypt of the Slayers. Here, the heroes of every generation of Valentines had been laid to rest, their bodies and souls protected from dark magics by wards carved into the foundation stones. It was the final resting place of every member of the main line.

It didn’t look that impressive to Clarissa, just a big stone building with a few silly looking gargoyles and some blank faced angels staring down at her. But that was probably just sour grapes. Ordinarily, a spare like her would never be setting foot in this building. But, as the gathering frost across the white brickwork implied, these were far from ordinary times.

The gate was what drew her attention. It was a heavy looking metal grate, covered in glowing purple warding runes. Which was definitely a concern, because to her (admittedly second hand) knowledge, the runes should have been green.

“The gate to the Slayer’s rest. Only openable by the current heir of the family – that’s the legend, right?” She tilted her head as she looked around at her sister. “Well, go right ahead then.”

The elder sibling scowled at her but reached for the gate anyway. Before her hand could touch the metal, the air seemed to solidify in front of her, rippling with eerie purple light.

“Oh, would you look at that. Maybe we’re both spares, as it turns out.”

Oops. She knew she’d made a mistake the instant her sister turned to her, eyes blazing. That had been needlessly petty, no matter how bitter she was about their past. It was also incredibly stupid to throw jabs like that at a woman standing next to her who could put her fist through a stone pillar.

“If you’re done mocking me,” Maria growled, her voice colder than anything else Clarissa had experienced that night, “then do what I called you here to do. Prove that all the years you spent laying around in the keep reading your precious books while I was working myself to death honing my body, mind, and soul to become this world’s protector were not wasted. Or else get out of my sight before I cut you down myself.”

The dark-haired twin tried not to look too intimidated, but she couldn’t help a nervous swallow. Her sister was very, very strong, and none of her training had included improving her terrible temper. “Alright, alright. Hold on, let me… Let me take a look at this.”

Her fingers fumbled with her book as she uncurled her arms from around it, nervously pulling it open to leaf through the pages. Spellcraft was delicate work, and though she’d had years of study – and precious little else to do with her time – she hadn’t actually cast many spells. The only reason Maria had come to her for help, aside from some long-withered sense of family, was because Clarissa was barely a mage at all.

Neither the elder sister nor their mother trusted magic, viewing it as an evil art used by monsters alone. Clarissa delving into its study had done little to endear her to either woman, though by that point the bridges were well and truly burnt anyway, so the budding mage had seen no harm in her teenage rebellion. Not until it got her thrown out of the house, at least, though that was probably going to happen anyway.

Of course now that she was needed, she was expected to help out of the kindness of her heart…

“Okay. Okay, I think I see how… Yeah.” She nodded, tracing a few of the runes in the book with her finger, eyes flicking from the gate to the page and back. “That’s… kinda clever, actually. They haven’t broken the original enchantment, they’ve just rerouted-”

“I didn’t ask you here to compliment the Sorceress who did this,” Maria snapped. “Can you open the door or not?”

Clarissa took a breath, trying not to snap right back. “I… Think so. But not alone, I’m not that strong a spellcaster. I’ll need your help.”

She pretended not to see her sister rolling her eyes.

“So be it. What help?”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” the younger sibling muttered, flipping through the pages of her book for a moment, before stopping on a complicated looking page of runes and ancient languages. “Give me your axe for a moment.”

The Slayer stared at her. “Give you my axe?” She repeated, incredulous. “You mean, just hand you the Severer of Fate, the weapon of our family line for centuries untold, the sacred executioner of light, our most powerful asset against the forces of darkness?”

“Yeah.” Clarissa stuck out her hand, trying not to shiver. “You want in through this door, then gimme.”

There was an annoyed grunt, and then an incredibly heavy weight dumped into her arms, almost dragging her to the ground. “Demanding as ever. Just get the job done.”

“Ngh… Working on it…” The mage gasped, her face turning red as she struggled to balance the weapon in her hands. Then carefully, she reached into a pocket and pulled out a satchel of glittering sand, sprinkling it over the hilt.

“The hells do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting the door open. Now hush, I need to pronounce this right.” Clarissa took a breath, closing her eyes. Her meagre supply of magical energy began to flow. “Ah… Ashey… Colok… Penrot… Goleth… Dos.”

Maria watched, the disapproval on her face as clear as the night sky above as her axe took on an unearthly green glow for a moment, before it faded back to normal.

“There.” The mage shoved it back into her sister’s hands. “I enchanted it. Now it should be able to break the wards on the gate.”

The Slayer hesitated for a second, before taking the axe’s haft back into her hands. “You’re sure?”

Clarissa grunted with annoyance. “Test it and see.” She gestured towards the metal grate.

There was a few seconds of silence, Maria studying her sister suspiciously, before shrugging and drawing her arm back, lifting the weight that had almost brought the mage to her knees one handed with ease. With a mighty yell that split the night, she swung the weapon over-arm, bringing it down upon the gate like an executioner’s blow.

An ordinary gate would have been crushed into scrap metal. The enchanted wards of the family crypt were made of far sturdier stuff, but as the axe connected it shone with green light, and the protective magics shattered like glass. The gate itself wasn’t far behind.

“Hmn.” The redhead peered at her own handiwork sceptically, before shouldering her axe. “I suppose that will do.” She stepped over the rubble, entering the tomb.

“… ‘That will do’? Is that all you’re going to say? …. H-hey, wait up!” No answer came, and all Clarissa could do was scramble after her.

Shadows wandered across the tomb walls, lit by sickly green candle flames. The sisters’ footsteps echoed from every direction as they delved deeper into their ancestor’s rest, hunting for the intruder that had stolen their way in. Skulls watched from every nook, the eyes of their predecessors sitting in endless judgement.

It was distracting enough that the younger sister nearly jumped when Maria’s arm shot out in front of her, barring her path. “Quiet,” the redhead muttered. “Someone is here.”

Clarissa, who was pretty sure she had not made a sound, pursed her lips, listening to the silence carefully. Could she hear… Ah! There!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps. And they were coming closer. The mage drew back, opening up her tome in preparation as her sister readied her axe. If they were about to come face to face with the Necromancer who had violated this tomb, they needed to be ready for anything.

But it wasn’t a Necromancer that stepped out of the darkness.

“So you’re the disgrace they’re letting pretend she’s the Slayer these days, are you?” A voice, proud and hearty, echoed from the shadows. “And what’s this? Is that your sidekick cowering behind you? Hmph. I guess they’ll let anyone be a Valentine these days.”

A figure stepped into the green light, a tall woman in the prime of her youth. Flaming red hair fell down to the small of her back in wild locks, leather armour clinging to her voluptuous and muscular frame. A sword hung from her belt, right next to a familiar looking chain whip. The only thing that gave away her inhumanity was the purple glow in her eyes.

“It… Can’t be…” Maria whispered. For the first time in decades, Clarissa thought she might have detected a note of fear in her sister’s voice.

“What?” The mage tried to peer around her. She didn’t recognise the woman, but Maria obviously did. “Who is it?”

“Angelica Valentine.” Maria’s eyes were locked on the new arrival. “The Slayer who took down the flood of Moverna by herself.”

The woman smirked. “Ah, so you do know some history,” she said, taking another step towards them. “That’s something, at least. But I wouldn’t say Moverna was my greatest feat. Wasn’t scaling the mountains of Kelek and beheading their gods in one night more impressive?”

Clarissa saw her sister’s grip on her weapon shake. “That… They classified that as a myth! T-they said there was no way…”

Angelica laughed. “Oh, there was a way. I even used that axe to do it. And speaking of…” Her eyes narrowed. “I think I’ll be taking that back now.”

Maria licked her lips nervously. “Honoured ancestor, please. I must vanquish the Necromancer who defiled this place…”

“Defiled it on your watch, you mean?” The elder redhead tilted her head, amused by the audacity. “I’m afraid I won’t be letting you confront the Mistress that easily.”

The Slayer flinched visibly at her predecessor’s words. “To hear you call her that…”

“… Is an insult and disgrace upon the family name?” Angelica’s smirk grew as she shrugged. “Well yeah, but you did let her get in here and enslave my soul, so that’s your fault too, kiddo.”

Maria bowed her head. Then she snapped up, her eyes blazing “Then I will cut you down where you stand, and free you from her curse!”

The ancient Slayer grinned. “You’re welcome to try. I mean, Mistress will probably just summon me back if you succeed, but hey…” She drew her sword. “She’s not going to need to.”

With a furious scream, Maria charged forwards, swinging her axe. The blow was so strong it shattered the stone of the floor – but Angelica wasn’t in its path, dancing backwards and out of the way. Now the ancient hero had the perfect chance to counter, and she took it, lashing out with her blade, just barely being deflected by a twisted axe haft…

Clarissa watched it all, biting her lip. Her sister was doing well – she was doing fantastic, honestly. Whatever else she might be, Maria Valentine was a divinely gifted fighter, trained for her role since birth. There was no one better in a one-on-one battle than her, the mage knew.

And yet…

And yet somehow, Angelica was winning.

It didn’t seem possible. Clarissa couldn’t get her mind around it. All of her life, Maria had been unbeatable. But before her eyes, she could see it. Every time the Slayer of today struck, the Slayer of yesterday dodged around her attack like she saw it in slow motion. And every time the ancient hero returned the favour, the modern-day heroine could only just barely block by the skin of her teeth.

There was no denying the difference in power between the two. Maria might be able to hold out for a while, but there was no question how this battle would end.

The mage had to do something.

Fortunately, she had the freedom to do just that. Neither woman was paying her any attention – they both knew who the real threat here was, and it wasn’t the skinny spare. Ripping through her book, she hunted for a spell, any spell, that would help- Ah!

Oh, that one would do it. It was… It was perfect, actually. It was a complicated spell, one she’d never thought she’d cast before, and it required a skill level much higher than she believed she possessed, but… What choice did she have? Taking a breath, she grabbed her reagent pouch.

First, a circle of enchanted sand. That was easy enough. Then the invocation of the ninth god, okay, that… She remembered that one… She hoped. After that, inscribe the aegis symbol on stone – quick, quick, don’t smudge the chalk… And then just the chant!

“Rkili… Tevone… Wolt… Susa…!”

Magic thrummed through the air. Was the spell working? It felt like it was working. Now she just needed to speak the word of activation, and it would go off. Hopefully.

Though, if she didn’t want to catch Maria in the blast, she needed to get her sister into this sand circle first. That… That’d probably be the right thing to do. Even if she didn’t like her sister, she couldn’t just catch her up in-

“Gah!”

Clarissa looked up at her sister’s yell, just in time to see said sister’s back flying straight towards her after a powerful kick from her opponent. There was just enough time to think ‘Oh shi-’ before both of them went down in a heap.

“Well, not too bad, for a rookie,” Angelica laughed as she began to close in on her downed opponent (and sister). “But not good enough. Don’t worry though. I’m sure Mistress will summon your souls back to serve her too, soon enough.”

Then she charged, sword held aloft to strike both women down in one cut.

“Polmar!”

There was a bright flash of light as Clarissa screamed. Everything went still and silent.

Slowly, the two sisters untangled themselves from one another and looked up. Standing over them, frozen in place, sword mid-swing, was a white stone statue of Angelica Valentine.

“What… What have you done…?” Maria finally managed to ask, scrambling to her feet and hurrying to retrieve her axe, though her eyes never left the statue.

“Medusa flash,” the mage sighed, bending down to pick up her book. “It’s, uh. Petrification spell.”

“Obviously.” Maria frowned, staring at her frozen ancestor. “Is she… Still in there?”

“Um. I guess?” the dark-haired sibling rubbed the back of her neck, uncertain. “She should be. If I knew how to reverse the spell she’d revert to normal. But I don’t think she’s aware of us. Statues don’t think, y’know?”

The Slayer’s eyes flicked to her sister. “So her soul is trapped?”

“Exactly!” Clarissa nodded eagerly. “I figured that if killing her would just send her back to the Necromancer, then this was the way to beat her properly. She’s a statue in both body and soul. Hell, I bet she’d still be a statue in the afterlife if you shattered her right now…”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Maria hooked her axe on her back once again, and stalked off into the darkness, heading deeper into the tomb. Her voice echoed behind her. “Magic truly is vile.”

The younger sister’s shoulders slumped, and she rolled her eyes as she followed after her. “Yeah, you’re welcome for the save.”

But she probably shouldn’t have expected anything different. Uncomfortable silence soon returned as the pair found a set of stairs and began to descend. Silence she really didn’t want to break… Except, something was bothering her.

“So… Sis…”

“Don’t call me that.”

Tch. Clarissa ground her teeth. “Okay, great and powerful Slayer, answer me this. How did this Necromancer lady…” Angelica had called her ‘Mistress’, so it was safe to assume, “… get in here? That’s not supposed to be possible, not while the gate was still standing.”

Below her at the bottom of the stairs, Maria stiffened in front of the doorway onwards, before glaring back up at her. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” the mage answered, glaring right back, “because I need to know what to expect when we find her if you want me to counter her magic! Did she dig in here with earth spells? Did she slip through the bars like a shadow? This place was specifically warded to protect against necromancy, so she must have had some trick up her sleeve. No Valentine buried in the crypt could have let her in.”

“But what about a Valentine who wasn’t buried in the crypt?”

The pair froze on the stairs as a voice called from beyond the doorway, both staring at one another. Clarissa’s expression was one of horrified realisation, while Maria’s was simple resignation. The voice that had called out was familiar to both of them – but only one had been expecting it.

“Mom?”

Growling, the elder sibling pushed ahead, striding into the chamber in front of them, with the younger following meekly after her. Waiting in the chamber beyond, dressed in the same leather armour as every other Slayer, was Laura Valentine herself. Her glowing purple eyes couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face – it was all too familiar to both of them.

“Mother.” Maria’s greeting was respectful, but curt. Her axe was already back in her hands. “You are looking… better than you did when I last saw you.”

She actually looked years younger than either of them remembered her. Like Angelica above, it seemed that the former Slayer had been resurrected to the prime of her youth, the height of her strength. The sisters could clearly see where they had gotten their looks from now.

“You mean when Mistress sucked out my soul in front of you, and you did nothing to stop her?” Laura looked down her nose at her eldest daughter. “I should think I do, yes.”

“Th-there was nothing I could…!” It had been some time since Clarissa had last heard such desperation in her sister’s voice. She would have enjoyed the sound if not for the cause.

“Excuses. Always excuses.” Laura raised her own axe and gestured with it. It wasn’t as impressive as the one Maria held, but she held it with an ease that denoted obvious skill. “Always excuses with you. I bet you even have one for being so weak that you needed to bring the spare along in order to face me.”

“… Nice to see you too, mom.”

The resurrected Slayer ignored her youngest, because of course she did. Clarissa didn’t know too much about her mother’s death or how it happened, but aside from the Mistress thing it clearly hadn’t changed her.

Actually, she’d learned what she did know a few weeks ago from overheard gossip. A fight with a Sorceress had cost Laura her life after decades serving as the Valentine Slayer, with Maria now taking her place. Naturally, no one had actually taken the time to inform her about it, and… Well, she hadn’t wanted to dwell on the news, because then she would have had to reckon with the fact that she didn’t feel particularly sad about it.

Just being here in front of her was reminding her of why that was.

“Ignore her,” Maria growled, lifting her axe in front of her sister and glaring at their newly raised parent. “This is between you and me, Mother.” She grasped the haft of her axe, holding it in front of her firmly. “I shall make up for my mistake now, and grant you the rest you deserve. It’s the least I can do for all that you taught me.”

“Heh. If it’s not excuses, it’s promises you can’t keep.” Laura stepped forward, smirking. “I never taught you everything, Maria.”

“We shall see.”

And like that, once again, the battle was on. The two Slayers clashed in the middle of the hall, their weapons sending out showers of sparks as they struck against one another. This time, at least, the contest felt more even, Maria giving just as good as she got. But all the same, Laura had more experience – and with her youth restored, she could likely battle like this for much, much longer than her daughter…

But Clarissa didn’t care about that. What she cared about was that, once again, she was being ignored. Her mother had been brought back from the grave, and still didn’t have a single thing to say to her other than an insult. She’d even called her ‘spare’ again.

Fury burned in the mage’s heart; her eye twitching. Already, her hands were lifting through the pages of her book, fumbling their way towards a section based on magic she had sworn that she would never use…

So. Mom had gotten her soul sucked out and enslaved by the Necromancer, and then let said Necromancer into the crypt to enslave the rest of her family. That all made sense. And judging by how much strength she was swinging around now, she’d been shoved back into her body once she was properly tamed, which had then been modified by the Necromancer’s magic. That’d explain her rejuvenated appearance. But that would mean that the bond between her soul and her body had been broken, even if she’d been put back in later. And if there was nothing anchoring her soul to her body properly, then she was much, much more vulnerable to certain kinds of magics.

Magics that she wasn’t supposed to know, but hey, since when had she listened to someone telling her she wasn’t allowed to do something? Her eyes narrowed.

“Riften… Glaz… Modekar… Wulst!”

Clang!

Just as the two Slayers prepared for another class, Laura’s axe fell to the floor from her suddenly slack hands. The woman froze in place, white light pouring from her eyes and mouth, before a red glowing orb pulled itself free of her throat and flew through the air, coming to float in Clarissa’s palm.

Immediately, the life seemed to drain from the former Slayers body. Her skin tone paled into a dull grey, her eyes turning pure white. Her body slumped, legs loose, arms limp by her sides, her jaw dropping slack and starting to drool.

“M-Mom?” Maria’s eyes went wide, and she spun around, staring incredulously at her sister. “What did you do?!?”

“Relax.” The mage’s voice made no effort to hide her irritation. “She’s fine. For a dead woman, anyway.” She held up the red orb. “I just pulled her soul out so that you wouldn’t have to kill her.” Sure. That had been why.

“You… H-her soul?” The Slayer’s eyes focused on the orb. If you really looked, occasionally you might be able to make out a shape in the centre of it that looked like Laura’s naked body.

“Mmm.” Clarissa nodded, pulling a gem-shaped piece of glass out of her reagent pouch, holding it up to the light. Said light quickly began to seep into the clear trinket, soon vanishing entirely and leaving what looked like a ruby in her palm. “And now she’s in here. Which means I can command her body to show us to where the Necromancer is hiding.”

Maria frowned. “You can command… Sister, are you using necromancy?”

She absolutely was. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just… tinkering with what the actual Necromancer did. Wasn’t that why you brought me in the first place? To deal with her spells?”

The Slayer stared at her for a long, long moment. “… I suppose I did.”

“Then there’s no problem, is there.” Clarissa shoved the soul gem into her pocket. She’d work out what to do with it later. Then she turned to the soulless husk that had been her mother. “Thrall, take us to where the Necromancer is.”

And obediently, the husk began to shamble away into the shadows. The mage gestured after her, and with one final uncertain stare, the Slayer moved to follow.

There was a tension in the air now, but Clarissa just couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. It had been a mistake to come back and help in the first place, but she’d thought that just maybe she could get some acceptance and closure from what was left of her family. Now she knew better. The sooner this stupid thing was dealt with, the better. Hell, if the situation weren’t so grim she’d be leaving already.

Instead, she felt compelled to see it through. If not to make sure this threat never came after her, then to make sure her sister didn’t instead.

The two (three of you counted the husk) of them walked through the long crypt corridors in uncomfortable, angry silence. Clarissa could feel her sister’s ire building with every step she was forced to walk in their mother’s wake, her fists clenching at what she surely saw as a violation of everything she valued. And in turn, her own anger just built higher and higher.

Sooner or later, something would have to give.

But as it turned out, they probably didn’t need the soulless husk of their mother to guide them to their goal. Once they’d walked deep enough into the darkness, chants began to echo from below, purple light shining around distant corners, leading them onwards. It wasn’t long before they found their destination.

Green flame candles burning above lit the stone room a little brighter down here, illuminating the stone throne that had been placed in the middle of the chamber, surrounded by glowing purple runes and crackling magical staves that had been planted upright in the ground. It was clear that the Necromancer had made a home for herself.

And there she was, in all of her glory, sitting in her throne. Dressed in black and purple silks, she wore a hood drawn up over her head so that her face was eternally covered in shadow. Arcane fires burned around her hands, while green light glowed under her hood where her eyes should be. She looked every bit the dark mage that Clarissa had been expecting.

She hadn’t noticed them yet, busy with her ritual work. The two sisters kept back, sticking to the shadows as they observed.

“Stop.” Clarissa commanded her mother quietly before she gave away their approach. “Just… Go and stare at the wall or something. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

The thrall obediently shambled away, walking over to a wall and watching it blankly, still drooling on its grey chest. Maria watched it go.

Then she turned to her sister. “I will deal with this myself,” the Slayer said, her voice only barely higher than a snarl. “You will not interfere in my fight. Once I kill her, you will undo whatever spell she is trying to cast, and then you will get out of my sight, before I strike you down myself. Do you understand?”

At this point the mage really didn’t have it in her to protest. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

In that, at least, the two of them were in complete agreement. Clarissa watched as her sister stalked forwards towards the light, while she slid back into the shadows.

“Sorceress!” Maria called out, axe already in hand. “Your violation of this tomb will go no further! Prepare yourself to join my ancestors in the life beyond.” The green light burned in her eyes. “I imagine they have quite a few points they want to discuss with you.”

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived.” The Necromancer’s spell evaporated as she looked up. Even if her face was invisible, one could sense the smug grin on her lips. “I was starting to wonder if my minions might just be a bit too much for you.”

“Don’t speak about my family that way, witch,” the redhead growled. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to them.”

“Such fire~” The veiled mage chuckled, rising to her feet, her hands glowing with purple light. “I’ll enjoy taming it. And once I do, I’ll have the complete collection. You’ve no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of having the entire Valentine line at my beck and call.”

“Monster!” Maria took a stance, muscles brimming with stored power. “That dream ends today, along with your life!”

Then she shot forwards, her axe already swinging.

The Necromancer didn’t move, taking the hit full-on. But the moment before the axe head connected, a shimmering purple barrier formed in the air between it and her neck, stopping the swing dead in its tracks.

“So predictable,” the malevolent magic user said, leaning in. “I’ve fought dozens of Slayers over the centuries. You know you all open with the same technique? It’s really easy to do the counter if you know how. Here, I’ll show you what it looked like when I used it to drain your mother’s soul!”

Her hand shot forwards, grabbing Maria’s face underneath her glowing palm. The Slayer screamed, light pouring out of her eyes and mouth as her soul began to loosen. Her grip on the axe shook and quivered… before starting to tighten, and-

“Yeah, let’s cut that off there.” Suddenly, the Necromancer was ripped off her victim, hauled back with a startled shriek. The shock of the spell’s abrupt end sent the Slayer toppling backwards to the stone floor, taking her a few moments to recover as her soul properly rehoused itself. When she looked up, she could only frown in confusion at what she saw.

Clarissa had stepped out of the shadows, and now held the Necromancer from behind, one arm wrapped around her chest, the other hand up by her head, two fingers pressed against the woman’s veiled temple and glowing green. The evil sorceress had gone still, gasping quietly in the mage’s arms, but making no move to break free.

“What… What are you doing?” Maria managed to ask, her voice a touch rough from all of her yelling.

“Dealing with this,” her sister said with a shrug, the glow around her fingers intensifying. “She was so focused on you that she left herself completely open. I used mom’s soul to strengthen my spells to get through her barrier, and now I’m draining all the magical knowledge she has out of her mind so she can’t do any of this shit ever again.”

Her words were delivered so matter-of-factly that it took the elder sibling longer than it should have to comprehend them.

“D… drain…?”

“Mm.” The dark-haired woman nodded, her eyes starting to glow green as well. “It’s a spell every mage knows. If you want to learn to cast more spells, steal them from your rivals. Normally sorcerers protect themselves from this kind of thing, but, like I said, she was focused on you. Guess she thought she didn’t need to worry about spells like this from someone who hates magic as much as you.”

The Necromancer gasped again in her arms, louder this time, as the light in her eyes faded. A moment later, and the glow around Clarissa’s fingers died down too, her eyes settling a moment later. The mage blinked, brow furrowing in surprise. “Oh wow. She wasn’t kidding about doing this for centuries. I feel like I just drained an entire library into my head.”

“Of course,” Maria spat. “That’s what this was for. You intervened in a battle directly against my wishes so you could get your precious spells.”

The younger sister sighed as she rolled her neck, still tasting the knowledge that had filled her skull. “Sure, sis. Whatever.” She released the Necromancer, and let her fall to the floor, her mind emptied out.

“I suppose that makes me glad. For a moment, I thought you might have been moved to try to save me,” the Slayer continued, rising up to her knee. “Not that I needed saving, of course. I was about to turn her attack back on her.”

Clarissa laughed at that, shaking her head. “Oh, you can relax about that,” she said, raising a hand wreathed in purple glow. “I didn’t save you at all.”

Maria blinked. “Wha-Ugh!”

Her axe dropped to the floor with a Clang! As light erupted from her eyes and mouth again, her soul resonating in response to a new call. Caught by surprise and on her knees, she couldn’t do anything to respond this time. She just felt a soft, painless tearing sound, and then everything was a blur of light.

The next thing she knew, she was floating in the air, and everything looked much… bigger.

Clarissa grinned down at the orb of green light in her palm. “So this is what your soul looks like, huh sis? Congrats on not being as vile as mom. Though, y’know, still kinda tacky.”

The light vibrated in her hand, as if furiously demanding to be returned to her body.

The mage just chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll put you back. I just want to show you some stuff first. You know, once the bond between body and soul has been severed, it leaves both really vulnerable to magical manipulation. Wanna see?”

Still smiling, she stepped over to Maria’s still kneeling body. The Slayer’s eyes had turned pure white without a soul behind them, and her jaw had dropped, drool starting to drip down from her lips. Clarissa made sure to give her soul a good look at herself, while making sure she couldn’t wriggle her way back.

“So, I think you’ll be able to empathise with me on this one, sis, but I’ve gotten really sick of seeing your face.” The younger sister’s voice dripped with venom. All of the anger that had been building up in her over the course of this night was now pouring out freely, and she was enjoying every second. “So I’m going to replace it.”

She reached forward with her free hand and tapped a purple glowing finger against Maria’s blank brow. Under her touch, the Slayer’s face seemed to ripple, and then sink backwards into her head, her eyes, nose, and mouth all vanishing into smooth skin. Then her entire head began to flatten inwards, hair stiffening and folding in at the sides into a flowing pattern. The edges of her former face hardened into a dark metal frame, lined by gold and red as her hair merged with it. Meanwhile, the inner, flat part of her face smoothened out completely and turned silver, before developing such a perfect polish that you could only see your reflection in it.

The Slayer’s soul vibrated harder as she realised what had happened. Her head had been turned into a mirror, just a little shallower than a human’s thumb, atop her neck.

“There.” Clarissa put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and adjusted her around until she could see her own face in her reflection. “Much better, don’t you think?”

The soul’s glow brightened and dimmed, flashing like an angry candle. The mage just giggled at the sight.

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s not so bad. And you know, I could put you back, fix you up and leave you right as rain if I wanted to!” She paused and then looked down at the soul in her hands with a cold glint in her eye. The false cheer in her voice bled out like air from a popped balloon. “But then, you’ve made it very clear that if I do, one day you’re going to try to cut my head off, so, I’m really not feeling that way inclined. And let’s face it, you were going to do that whatever happened in here. Even if I was the perfect sister, you were never going to leave your magic using spare wandering around.”

“So I’m dealing with you now. Just like I dealt with her,” she nodded to the drooling Necromancer on the floor, “and mom, and Angelica, and every other threat we’ve seen tonight. Guess I’m just good at dealing with people, huh?”

Then she leant in conspiratorially, hand to her mouth, and began to whisper. “Plus, I just transferred literally centuries of magical knowledge into my head. I don’t think there’s any spells I can’t cast now. I might be one of the most powerful mages in the entire world! And hey, you know what the fun thing about power is? Using it.”

She straightened back up, a smug grin on her face as she held the soul up to her empty body. “So back you go, Maria. I’ve changed your body, so now your body can change you. Don’t worry, my magic will take care of you. You won’t need food or air or… Have any needs at all, really! And you won’t even be bored. You won’t be anything except a mirror, and mirrors don’t think, and mirrors don’t feel. Mirrors just reflect their betters.”

The soul was vibrating again, shaking in her hands. It was almost as if Maria was trying to stay with her now, trying to flee from her own body. But the tiny light wasn’t able to resist the mage’s spell, and soon it found itself flying back through the air, vanishing into the polished sheen of her transformed face.

For a flash of a moment, she felt herself restored. Felt life return to her limbs, felt her body respond to her control once more. In that fleeting instant, she tried to rise, tried to throw one last attack at her sister…

… But before she could even flinch, her soul merged back with her flesh, and like water filling a container, shaped itself to its new form. A sweeping emptiness rushed through her, a thoughtless stillness taking hold as her mind was erased from existence – for she was a mirror now, and mirrors had no minds at all.

Clarissa let out a sigh of relief as her sister… No, as her mirror settled. Oh, wow, that had felt amazing. Like the chains weighing her down for decades all releasing at once. She was free. At long, long last, she was finally free. She didn’t have to fear her mother or her sister hunting her down any more. She could do whatever she wanted.

… And honestly, this evil mage thing was feeling fun.

Taking a breath, the youngest sister… The final Valentine strode through the tomb to the stone throne and took a seat.

She snapped her fingers. At once, green light filled the tomb. The Necromancer had tried to harness this place, but Clarissa had the blood of the Valentines. It was built to respond to her.

Another snap, and her thralls were at her side. To her left, the soulless husk that was once her mother. To her right, the statue that had been a hero, now resculpted into a humiliating pose on her knees, her bared breasts being offered up to any watchers. The mage wasn’t sure when she’d done that, but she had to admit it was an improvement.

At her feet, the former Necromancer. A third snap of Clarissa’s fingers and the woman’s robes unspooled, her body transforming, breasts swelling, ass plumping, hair growing wild and thick. She’d make a fine whore to sell to the local inn – a nice rewarding retirement in exchange for all this magical knowledge.

And of course, in front of her was her delightful mirror. The mage smiled, leaning on one arm. She looked good.

“Hundreds of Valentines at my beck and call, to do whatever I want with…” She sat back in her throne, raising her legs and resting them on her mother’s backside as the empty thrall crawled under her. “Oh, you know what? I think this is going to be so much fun~”

Her reflection smiled back at her – and for the first time in all her life, the sight of it brought her nothing but joy.