Unknownfate
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Chapter 185
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 13:18:20 +0000 UTCSelene had long since worked to uncover everything she could about Morgana; she had spent countless hours and resources to learn everything she could, every secret, every possible weakness.
She knew Morgana wasn’t invincible; she had lost before, been defeated by none but Merlin and King Arthur, and while her son Mordred had in turn killed Arthur, Morgana had still spent a long while imprisoned.
In fact, it was Selene herself who helped her escape Merlin’s prison, in exchange for even greater knowledge of the dark arts.
Merlin was indeed powerful, someone even Selene had met, and feared for good reason, thankfully, he seemed to have died, or left somewhere. Morgana claimed he was dead, but she wasn’t so sure herself.
Someone that strong… would he really die like that? How could someone like the current Sorcerer Supreme live for centuries? Surely Merlin could, too.
Still, what she knew was that he was gone, and with him, any hope that he would do the work for her and deal with Morgana. Not that she wanted that, she wanted to personally deal with Morgana, use her blood to fuel her own dark magic.
Still, beyond Merlin, there was Arthur, the king of knights and brother of Morgana; he had been nothing but a normal human, yet able to best Morgana. Selene was naturally interested in figuring out how.
This led her to learn about the magical swords and weapons the Knights of the Round Table wielded, and the power and danger they represented.
Sadly, it had proven difficult to find those weapons; she had only found a single one, and that one was difficult to get her hands on, or more like it was picky about its owner, and carried a powerful curse, so she had to give up on the Ebony blade.
She had mostly given up on using Arthurian legends to deal with Morgana, that was, until Camelot appeared.
Camelot. A vision brought to life. A legend reborn.
It had happened without warning, no signs at all, and suddenly, within a single night, the world changed in ways Selene hadn’t expected possible.
Not only was Camelot back, so was the supposedly dead Arthur Pendragon, as well as the Knights of the Round Table, even Mordred, Morgana’s loyal dog of a son, had returned, and for some reason served under the same king he once killed in hatred.
Making a city appear overnight was already something that neither Selene nor Morgana could do; in fact, she didn’t know a single person who could make that happen, which made her curious and ensured she paid close attention.
She wasn’t the only one who paid close attention; the whole world was watching, and one thing the cattle had done well was building a network to share information; she could sit at home and watch everything on TV.
And what a show they put on her for, the secrets revealed, each word shocking the world, each picture filled with clues. It was a time of questions and few answers.
What followed only caused more questions than it answered, the power of those Knights… Of Mordred, she had studied Mordred carefully; she knew he was but a human, slightly enhanced at most, and the only special thing about him was his weapons.
The black weapons… they were powerful and deadly, but what she saw from Mordred, as he fought against a modern army? That was far beyond anything that could be explained by those old swords.
Something was going on, and Selene knew she wasn’t the only one who realized that. Morgana, too, was tracking the situation, and both stared in disbelief as two massive pillars of light descended from the sky, destroying an airbase and an entire American fleet.
This wasn’t the Arthur of old, Selene could see that. Yet Morgana seemed to deny it, to close her eyes to the truth.
So while Selene sat back home on a velvet-draped chaise in one of her Parisian estates, she watched on TV as Morgana revealed herself in the form of a puppet at the tournament. Even though Selene knew it was but a puppet, Selene had to admit it was powerful, dangerously so.
But from her soft seat, she watched as Morgana, that arrogant witch, was beaten without the ability to even fight back; her so-called loyal son cut her down.
Sending the would-be queen of Albion fleeing in fright and humiliation. Selene had to admit she celebrated that and laughed every time she watched the recording.
Before the watchful eye of the entire world, before a billion pairs of eyes and more, Morgana was called a pretender and slain by her own son. The irony was delicious, and Morgana’s fury was without limit.
Still, Selene knew that it wasn’t the end, no, not at all. Camelot wouldn’t allow Morgana to continue to run around, and neither would Morgana allow Camelot and Albion to remain outside of her control.
What Selene cared about, however, was the unanswered question of who Arthur was, later revealed as a female Arthuria, and who her Knights were. Because Selene knew that Morgana was the real deal, she wasn’t a pretender as Camelot claimed.
No, the truth was that Camelot was the pretender; they weren’t the real deal, so the question was, just who were they? And why did they pretend to be Arthur and his Round Table?
Because someone so powerful… did they really need something like that?
Arthuria was essentially a god, and for some reason, she was allowed to operate openly on Earth, even promoting another religion than her own. Nothing around her made sense.
Selene continued to watch closely, every action this new player took as she shaped England into her new Albion.
She had to admit, even as she was surrounded by endless wealth and power, she was jealous, jealous that Arthuria could openly build a nation, crown herself king, and rule as she saw fit. While she, Selene Gallio, the unholy queen, and mistress of darkness, was forced to hide in the shadows.
So she was happy enough to play along and help Morgana in her attempts at bringing down Arthuria. If she were lucky, they might take one another down, allowing her to pick up the pieces.
In particular, she was interested in the weapons they all waved around, they seemed far more powerful than those black weapons she had once tried to track down. There was also the Holy Grail… it might be worth owning.
If nothing else, just the harvest from Lyon was already proving to be a boon, and that was just the start.
“Any news?” She asked one of her servants.
“Yes, your majesty, the Church seems to be out in numbers, all across France. We aren’t sure what their target is just yet, but they are surely targeting something.” The vampire said nervously, trying to stay in the shadows and cursing the woman for having such large windows unblocked, letting in so much sunlight.
Selene knew what the vampire was thinking, how couldn’t she? She had enjoyed this game for centuries; she loved nothing more than to bask in the sun while surrounded by vampires who could never be out in it.
It reinforced just how superior she was to them. Those disgusting bats who liked to claim themselves as the masters of the night, yet a bit of sunlight would cause them to burst into flames.
Selene tilted her head, drumming two black-lacquered nails against the gilded edge of her chaise. “The Church, hmm?” she mused. “How uncharacteristically bold of them.”
The vampire flinched at her tone and kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “Y-yes, my queen. It is unusual. They’re coordinating across provinces. We think they’ve received new intelligence.”
Selene scoffed softly. “No doubt that useless fool Ugoral got captured, though he better not have said anything, or I will torture his soul until he wishes he could die.”
She honestly didn’t think the Church would be able to capture that fool, just the vampires alone should be enough to handle any random Church group. “Do you know how that fool lost? Surely your kind should have feasted on the blood the Church offered up, rather than getting beaten by those fanatics.”
The vampire hesitated. “W-we believe he underestimated the Church’s hunters. And… there may have been another party involved. Someone powerful. We’re still reviewing the reports.”
Selene narrowed her eyes, her voice like razors wrapped in silk. “What other party?”
“It seems it might have been mutants, or some others of the so-called French Resistance. They are involved somehow, but we aren’t sure how, our agents are struggling with infiltrating the group due to those two kids.” The vampire spoke fearfully, afraid to displease this wicked witch.
Selene’s eyes narrowed further. “The twins.”
She remembered them now. She had read the reports — psychic twins, mutants, one with empathy and the other with telepathy and manipulation. Children. Yet troublesome, telepaths had always been annoying to deal with.
They sniffed out any spies she planted with ease and could rip information right out of their minds, ruining her plans countless times over the centuries. She had even joined the Hellfire Club, ostensibly to keep an eye on mutants and the telepaths of this generation, using mutants to deal with other mutants.
These two mutant twins were nothing compared to other telepaths, and had slipped under the radar, though if they started to interfere with her plans, then she might have to deal with them.
Selene slowly rose from her velvet chaise, letting her bare feet sink into the thick carpet. The air around her grew colder, the gold-framed mirror on the far wall frosting at the edges. “Find out what is happening, what is the Church doing, and get rid of those twins, the little resistance of the cattle shouldn’t have such fangs.”
She waved a hand and the thick curtains drew themselves shut, dimming the sunlight that had burned so cheerfully through the windows. The vampire let out a breath of relief and took an involuntary step forward — only for Selene to freeze him in place with a glance.
“Mess this up, and you will be losing your little fangs.” She threatened, her voice icy cold.
“Yes, my queen,” the vampire said, nearly choking on the words.
It didn’t take long for him to leave, and Selene was left alone until the mirror at the far end of the room shimmered — not from frost, but from power.
Selene turned toward it slowly. The polished glass began to ripple, and a single drop of red fell onto its surface, sliding upward instead of down.
A warning.
Selene’s eyes narrowed. She stepped forward and raised a hand, fingertips crackling with black light as she traced the glowing sigils that now flickered across the mirror’s silver edge.
“Damn that Ugoral, allowing the twins to get information about me out of his mind, I shall punish him, and those twins… but first, the Church…” She hissed, her voice filled with malice.
The warning was from all her safe houses, all the places she liked to stay within France, every place, attacked at once.
Boom!
The doors were thrown open. “Your Majesty, the Church, they are here!” The vampire servant screamed as he ran in.
“I know that you useless fool!” She screamed, and black lightning exploded from her finger, striking the vampire, causing him to scream in pain and beg for mercy.
Selene didn't give mercy.
She had none left to give.
Yet, while she wanted to turn his body to ash, she still had use for him. So she relented. “Make yourself useful, invite my guests inside, I will personally deal with them.” She ordered, giving the wretched creature no time to argue as she moved back to her seat, eagerly awaiting those fools of the Church.
…
She remained seated in a high-backed velvet armchair, one leg crossed over the other, the warmth of the fire behind her casting flickers of gold across the ornate wood-paneled walls of the Château d’Aigrefoin’s salon.
Around her, the Church’s remaining agents knelt or slumped, broken. The polished parquet floors were marred by scuffed boots, ash, and blood.
She took another sip from her wineglass — red, thick, not wine — and gazed at the last man still able to hold her stare.
“Is that the best the Church has to offer?” she asked, voice silk-wrapped steel. “The feeble blessings, those hallow wards, the empty prayers? It is what can be expected from a godless religion, I was here long before your Church… and I know… there is no God.”
