Chapter 107: This Madness
[WARNING! Unedited! Don’t buy!]
Morgana’s fingers lingered at her mouth, teeth grazing her nail as irritation coiled tight beneath her skin. She hated patterns she could not predict. And lately, the world seemed determined to mock her with them.
First Vladimir.
Now Sol.
Two ancient bloodlords—creatures who had outlived kingdoms and gods—throwing their weight behind insignificant prey.
It was... insulting.
She turned sharply, black skirts whispering over the fractured marble. The ruined chamber still reeked of shadow and scorched stone. Valerius’s absence was a wound in itself, one she did not appreciate.
"He allowed her a guard," Morgana muttered. "A Shadow Guard."
Her fingers curled slowly.
Sol was never generous. Every favor came shackled to a debt. That he would waste such a resource on a packless half-breed was... suspicious.
"Sentiment does not suit him," she said aloud. "Which means this is not sentiment."
Her gaze drifted to the shattered pillars, the gouges in the stone where water and shadow had collided. The scars whispered of raw, unrefined power.
Caroline.
The human girl.
Morgana’s lips curved faintly. "Ah. So that’s it."
Power hidden beneath chains. Suppressed. Starved.
She should have known.
Valerius emerged from the darkness then, cloak torn, blood streaking down one side of his face. He moved stiffly, pride barely holding his posture upright.
"You look dreadful," Morgana said coolly.
His eyes flashed. "Spare me."
"You were bested by a human," she continued. "I would think you’d have more... composure."
His jaw tightened. "She’s not human."
"Of course she is," Morgana replied. "Just... unfinished."
Valerius dropped onto a broken column, wiping blood from his lip. "She hit me with a river."
Morgana arched a brow. "You deserved it."
Silence stretched.
"You should have killed them," she said.
"I tried."
"And yet," she murmured, "here we are."
Valerius exhaled sharply. "Sol intervened."
"I know," Morgana said.
Her eyes glowed faintly crimson.
"He always does," Valerius continued. "Slips in, plays hero, then disappears before the consequences arrive."
"Because he understands something you don’t," Morgana replied softly.
Valerius glared. "And what’s that?"
"That chaos is more amusing when it unfolds slowly."
She turned away from him, gaze distant. "Sol never acts without purpose. If he is training them..."
She smiled.
"...then they are meant to be weapons."
Valerius scoffed. "Against us?"
"Against everyone."
She paced, heels clicking against stone. "A human who commands water. A wolf who regains her beast. And Sol whispering poison into their ears."
Valerius’s eyes darkened. "We should strike now."
"No," Morgana said.
He stared. "No?"
"We wait," she replied. "We watch. We let them grow."
"Are you insane?"
"Perhaps," she admitted. "But you, dear Valerius, lack vision."
She stopped before him.
"Think," she whispered. "If Sol trains them, he believes they will become something dangerous."
Valerius snarled. "Then we kill them before they do."
"And deny ourselves the pleasure of seeing what they become?" Morgana tilted her head. "Where is your sense of spectacle?"
He clenched his fists. "You enjoy this too much."
"Of course I do," she purred. "We are immortal. What else do we have?"
She turned back to the window, staring out into the endless forest.
"Besides," she continued, "they will make mistakes. Sol always pushes too hard. He breaks his toys."
Valerius’s expression softened slightly. "And when he does?"
"Then we pick up the pieces."
Days passed.
Morgana watched.
Not from afar—she was far too curious for that. She used ravens. Bats. Blood-seers bound by ancient contracts. She saw fragments.
The monastery.
The training.
Caroline shaping water like glass.
Iris screaming in ritual pain.
Her wolf awakening.
Morgana laughed softly.
"Oh, Sol," she murmured. "You never disappoint."
Valerius entered her chambers late one evening. "They’re growing stronger."
"Good."
"Too fast."
"Even better."
He scowled. "You’re enjoying this."
"I always do."
She poured dark wine into a crystal goblet, watching the liquid swirl. "The girl is unstable. She fears her power."
Valerius smirked. "Fear makes prey predictable."
"Not always," Morgana corrected. "Fear also makes monsters."
She took a slow sip.
"And the wolf?"
"Regaining her strength," Valerius said. "Not fully. But enough to kill."
Morgana’s eyes gleamed. "Perfect."
He frowned. "You’re planning something."
"I always am."
She turned, skirts flaring. "Sol believes he is shaping weapons. What he forgets..."
She smiled coldly.
"...is that weapons choose their own targets."
Valerius folded his arms. "You’re going to turn them."
"Not yet," Morgana replied. "But soon."
She approached him, voice lowering.
"Imagine it," she whispered. "The human drowning a city. The wolf tearing through immortals. Sol watching his creations turn on him."
Valerius’s grin returned. "That would be poetic."
"Tragic," Morgana corrected. "And therefore beautiful."
That night, Morgana dreamt.
She rarely did.
But this time—
She stood in a flooded cathedral. Water rose to her waist. Above her, Caroline hovered, eyes silver, expression hollow.
Iris stood beside her.
Shifted.
Feral.
"Why?" Morgana asked them.
They said nothing.
Water closed over her head.
She woke gasping.
Her hand trembled.
Morgana stared at it in disbelief.
Fear.
Real fear.
She laughed shakily. "Interesting."
The next evening, she summoned a messenger.
"Find Vladimir," she commanded. "Tell him I require his... insight."
The creature bowed. "At once, my lady."
Morgana leaned back in her throne.
"So," she whispered to the empty chamber, "the old ones are choosing sides."
Her smile was sharp.
"Then so shall I."
Far away, at the monastery, a raven landed on a broken tower.
Its eyes glowed faintly red.
Morgana saw everything.
Caroline laughing weakly after training.
Iris standing protectively beside her.
Sol watching from the shadows.
"Enjoy it," Morgana murmured. "It never lasts."
She lifted her hand.
The raven screamed and burst into ash.
Morgana’s laughter echoed through the chamber.
Valerius entered again. "What now?"
She stood.
"Now," she said softly, "we remind the world who monsters truly are."
"And them?"
"They will come to us," Morgana replied. "Power always does."
She walked toward the balcony, moonlight spilling across her pale skin.
"Sol thinks he’s playing chess," she continued. "But I..."
She smiled.
"...invented the board."
Wind howled.
Somewhere, far away, a wolf answered.
Morgana closed her eyes, savoring it.
"Run," she whispered. "Grow stronger."
Her eyes opened, glowing crimson.
"It will only make your fall sweeter."
Morgana did not sleep again that night.
She stood at the edge of her balcony, fingers resting lightly on cold stone, watching the forest stretch endlessly beneath her like a dark sea. Somewhere within that black sprawl, Sol was sharpening his blades. Somewhere, two girls believed they were becoming strong enough to defy gods.
Adorable.
The wind teased loose strands of her hair, whispering secrets meant only for immortals. She inhaled slowly, tasting old magic on the air—wolf, water, shadow. A volatile blend. A disaster waiting to bloom.
Behind her, Valerius lingered in silence, unusually restrained.
"You’re quieter than usual," Morgana said without turning. "Is your pride still bleeding?"
His jaw tightened. "I don’t enjoy being made a fool."
"None of us do," she replied coolly. "But we adapt."
She finally faced him. "Tell me—when you looked into the wolf’s eyes... what did you see?"
Valerius hesitated. "Defiance."
Morgana smiled. "No. Hope."
His brows drew together. "That’s worse."
"Exactly."
She glided closer, lowering her voice. "Hope is what makes them reckless. It convinces them they are chosen. That the world owes them victory."
Valerius smirked. "And you intend to take it away."
"No," Morgana corrected softly. "I intend to let them destroy it themselves."
She raised her hand and conjured a faint crimson flame, letting it dance lazily between her fingers. "Sol teaches control. Discipline. Restraint."
The flame flared.
"I will teach consequence."
Valerius chuckled. "I almost pity them."
"Don’t," she said. "They’ll beg for it soon enough."
Across the land, unseen by either of them, Sol stiffened.
He stood alone beneath the broken arch of the monastery, eyes narrowing as a sudden chill ran down his spine. For a fleeting moment, he felt it—Morgana’s gaze brushing against his thoughts like a blade.
She knows, he thought.
He turned slowly, scanning the forest shadows. Nothing moved. No sound. No presence.
But the air felt watched.
Sol exhaled through his teeth. "You’re too early," he murmured.
Inside, Caroline laughed at something Iris said, the sound bright and painfully human. Sol listened for a heartbeat longer than necessary before turning away.
"Enjoy it," he whispered. "She won’t let you keep it."
That same night, Morgana summoned another messenger.
"Bring me something personal," she ordered. "From the wolf."
The creature bowed low. "Blood? Hair?"
Morgana smiled. "A memory."
The messenger stiffened. "That is... difficult."
"So am I," she replied.
When it vanished, Morgana returned to her throne and leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly. She closed her eyes and pictured Iris’s face—defiant, exhausted, stubborn.
"You don’t belong in this game," Morgana murmured. "Which is exactly why you’ll be the most entertaining piece."
She opened her eyes slowly.
"Let’s see how long Sol can keep you whole."
Far away, a shadow slipped through the monastery walls unnoticed.
It did not attack.
Did not speak.
It only watched.
And somewhere deep inside Iris, her wolf growled in warning, fur bristling, instincts screaming that something wicked had found their trail again.
The hunt had resumed.
And this time—
Morgana was done waiting.
