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She is an other-worldly existence now, and it fills her with loneliness and sorrow.
Her once-friends bow to her. Her once-teacher hides her face from her. Her once-family no longer come to see her; instead they stop at the temple gates and are not allowed any further.
Her body constantly burns, from the markings engraved into her skin and her soul.
And, worst of all, is the way the vines from the great tree curl around each mobile joint and hold. She can't move except by their direction; she is the puppet, the token queen who wells with power but can only watch it seep through her and through those veins that hold her and into the world.
She understands a lot better now, and thinks there must have been someone in her role before, as well. A beautiful flower, the tree croons. The centrepiece that sees the fruits of labour but cannot choose, cannot direct.
Rather, she only attracts. She's the Taisha's figurehead bride, after all, immortalised in a role that gives her no glory at all.
A beautiful flower, the tree croons, but rather she's the power battery, the fertiliser and only pretty while her power lasts. But the roots hold her, keep her, suck her dry and eventually she'll wilt and when the world is dying again, Taisha will cast her aside and select a new bride.
But by then, Yuki Yuuna will have been long dead, and so will the people who knew the human her.