Unknownfate
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Chapter 171
🕑 Added 2025-06-27 13:23:44 +0000 UTCSomewhere in the Black Mountains of Southern France…
The castle rose like a jagged scar against the mist-laden sky — ancient stone kissed by the shadows of dead kings. Its towers twisted unnaturally toward the heavens, ivy blackened by time coiling like veins across the walls.
Within the great hall, velvet draped the walls, blood-red and deep as spilled wine. Arcane symbols etched into obsidian pillars glowed faintly with power not meant for mortal eyes. The air was heavy with incense and old magic — oppressive, decadent, intoxicating.
Upon the dais, Morgana sat on a throne of bleached bone and silver. Her gown was midnight silk and armored filigree, stitched with starlight and secrets. Her eyes, ancient and cold, watched the dancing flames in the hearth as if reading omens in their writhing shapes.
Then came the soft click of heeled boots on stone.
“I have returned from Lyon,” came the sultry voice — amused, unapologetic. “And the rewards were even better than expected.”
Selene Gallio strode forward like a panther cloaked in allure and malice. She wore black leather trimmed in crimson and a crown of golden thorns that shimmered like freshly spilled blood. Her eyes gleamed with cruel pride.
“I heard things got a bit out of hand,” Morgana murmured, still seated upon her throne, one brow arched as she regarded her half-student.
She knew what Selene was. A snake. Greedy. Ruthless. Cruel. Always waiting for a chance to strike. That was precisely why Morgana allowed her to live.
Because someone like Selene was understandable and predictable, she didn’t strike unless she believed she could win, and Morgana knew with unwavering certainty: Selene would never win.
Selene paused at the remark, just for a heartbeat. “Yes, well, I admit it surprised me. I expected the Sorcerer Supreme to intervene sooner… but she acted far later than I assumed. Still, it only meant a bigger harvest.” She shrugged, casual and dangerous.
Morgana, too, hadn’t expected events to unfold so easily. In all her long years, the Sorcerer Supreme had never shown such hesitation. Never before had she allowed a hellrift of that scale to open unchecked.
It was no secret: the woman could see through time. That ability had made Morgana’s past efforts a nightmare. Hiding from the future was a fool’s game — one she had learned to play slowly, carefully, with relentless patience.
It was impossible to act quickly and then retreat before consequences arrived. Not with someone who could see the consequences before they occurred.
A portal to Hell? That could be hidden, if one were meticulous. But the aftermath — the screams, the deaths, the stench of brimstone — those could not be concealed. Demons never moved quietly.
So the fact that the Ancient One had missed this?
Suspicious.
The Sorcerer Supreme didn’t make mistakes. Not like this. How could you blunder when you literally saw the outcomes of your every choice?
“One cannot underestimate her,” Morgana said at last, her voice a cool warning. “That woman is dangerous. We must assume something else interfered tonight. Because Mephisto alone shouldn’t have been enough.”
“I agree,” Selene replied, folding her arms. “Someone tried to take advantage of our actions… but whatever their goal, they ended up helping us, didn’t they?”
Morgana studied her for a long, silent moment. Then, with a flick of her fingers, she dismissed the thought.
“Perhaps. It’s no longer our concern.”
She leaned forward now, voice lower, silk over steel. “So tell me, Selene… how well did it go?”
She didn’t hide the hunger in her tone. Not from Selene. Not now.
Selene’s smile curled wickedly. She reached into her robe and withdrew a small crystal vial. It pulsed with a dark, blackish glow — sickly and mesmerizing.
“While the demons were busy harvesting souls,” she said, her voice almost purring, “I was busy collecting the aftermath. I gathered far more life energy than expected. Twelve times our original estimate.”
She stepped forward and placed the vial into Morgana’s waiting hand.
Morgana could feel the sheer power inside the vial — the raw life force of thousands who had died in the attack: scorched by fire, torn apart by demons, or quietly consumed by curses cast beneath the cover of chaos.
She glanced up at Selene, her expression unreadable. She didn’t doubt the cunning witch had kept more than her fair share, but she said nothing. Selene had taken risks, and if the time came, Morgana could always take what remained. There was no need to sour her mood just yet.
“How is the plan coming along?” Morgana finally asked, tucking the vial into a pocket dimension with a fluid gesture of her fingers — the air shimmered briefly, then was still.
Selene stepped back and, with a flourish, conjured a chair of dark marble and crimson velvet. She might not have Morgana’s rank or raw age, but she wasn’t about to continue standing while the elder witch held court.
“The plan proceeds smoothly,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. “The chaos your so-called brother stirred up at the UN has made our work far easier. Resources move more freely. Fear opens doors that used to be sealed.”
At that, Morgana's eyes narrowed. A low, bitter growl slipped from her throat. “That thing is not my brother. Arthuria has no connection to him.”
Her grip on the armrest tightened.
“And Mordred?” She spat the name like a curse. “That… girl is not my Mordred. Mine was loyal. Obedient. The perfect weapon. This one — this brat — struck me down without hesitation.”
“Well, yeah,” Selene’s lips curling in amusement. “She didn’t seem very sentimental. Stabbed first, no questions asked. Not the best family reunion.”
Morgana rose from her throne, the air around her rippling with latent sorcery. Her eyes burned like coals.
“She will pay for that.” Her voice dropped, cold and certain. “I will conquer Albion. I will grind Camelot beneath my heel. I will drain the magic from that sacred isle until not even the ghosts remember her name.”
She turned toward the window, where the wind howled like a mourning chorus through the peaks. “And when I stand in her gilded throne room, I will make her kneel before me… and I will show her what a real legacy looks like.”
Selene watched as Morgana, a witch of legendary might and reputation, lost her cool. Not that she blamed her.
She, too, had seen the events happening in Camelot, broadcast live on international TV. As a powerful sorceress herself, Selene had been very interested in the mythical return of King Arthur.
An interest that hadn’t grown any less just because the mysterious king of Camelot, apparently, wasn’t the real one.
If anything, it only made things even more interesting. Who was this mysterious and powerful Arthuria? What did she want, and what could she offer?
The rumors of the Holy Grail were interesting, but even without that, Selene was already hooked just by those strange and powerful weapons she had. Same with the knights.
Camelot held great power, and she wanted her piece of it.
However, she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could handle an entire nation filled with magical knights and mythic kings on her own; even just Mordred alone might be her match. So she would work with Morgana and go from there.
“It won’t be easy,” she reminded Morgana.
“I know that.” Morgana replied, finally recovering from her thoughts. “What of the plan? We have collected much life energy, but that alone won’t be enough, what of our guest?”
“The Enchantress is very eager to begin; she desires to make the knights of the Round Table hers and wishes to claim her lost prince, who is hidden within the city.” Selene’s voice dropped slightly, a note of interest threading through her words.
“Ahh, yes, Thor Odinson and Mjolnir.” Morgana sank back into her throne, her voice thick with disdain. “To think that woman is just leaving something like Mjolnir around, letting people try to claim it, what a fool.”
“So it’s true? Whoever claims it will gain the powers of a god?” Selene tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. She had heard the story, seen the reports, and the footage, but she wasn’t sure.
“Oh please, if Odin could make someone a god so easily, there would be no way Asgard left Earth alone for so long, no, Mjolnir can’t make you a god, at most, it's filled with power, and anyone can use it, if they meet the requirement, and that can give the illusion of being a god for a while, but its just power,” Morgana explained lazily.
“But why leave it around? And why is Thor there? Not only is Loki wandering around, but even Thor is living there? What is Camelot’s connection with Asgard?” Selene asked, slightly worried.
After all, these were gods she was dealing with, and while she wasn’t a stranger to making deals with evil gods and demons, that was always under the knowledge that they couldn’t really do anything to her.
They couldn’t just appear and punish her if she angered them, at most, they could take back what they had given her, but at that point, she didn’t care anymore, so she tricked them time and time again.
Yet, they could do nothing but hope they figured out how to bind her to keep her end of the deal.
Asgardian gods were different; they could very much appear on Earth if they wanted. And the Sorcerer Supreme wouldn’t be there to clean up her mess as she slinked back into the shadows.
“Don’t worry, Amora will handle the Asgardians; she is easy enough to deal with.” Morgana waved away her worries.
Selene agreed that the Enchantress was indeed easy to deal with. Maybe a bit too much so. She just didn’t feel very trustworthy, too ruled by her emotions. Overall, not a very reliable ally at all.
“When do we move?” Selene cut through the tension, steering the conversation toward something actionable.
“Soon, the chaos is working in our favour, speeding up everything, but with how big a commotion you just caused, we should probably keep our heads down for a moment.”
“It wasn’t my intention to cause that much of an issue.” Selene’s tone edged towards defensiveness.
“I’m not blaming you. But too many eyes are on Lyon—and all of France.”
Morgana leaned back, fingers drumming against the armrest. She wanted to act, to retaliate—but not without preparation.
That woman, Arthuria Pendragon, was dangerous; she was powerful and, worse yet, mysterious. Thankfully, she also had a lot of enemies, and while Morgana would have liked to add the growing mutant population to that list, it wasn’t likely.
Magneto was allied with her, and as the self-proclaimed king of mutants, his words, while they didn’t represent all mutants, did speak for many of them, at least most of the useful ones.
“What about the so-called resistance?” Selene asked.
“Those trash?” Morgana snorted. “Nothing but fools, let them save a few lives here and there, but even if they did find something with their digging, what are they going to do?”
“Also, the church might pay more attention now, with Lyon attacked by demons, should we do something?”
Morgana’s expression soured as if she tasted something sour. “The Church,” She spat, as if the word itself tasted foul. “If they cause problems, have the vampires take the blame and attention.”
Morgana still couldn’t understand how the Church, so weak it was laughable, was still somehow able to be such a headache.
They always seemed to rely on nothing but blind luck to cause her problems, and nothing she seemed to do had any big effect on them, no plague, no curse, no attack; they just shrugged it all off and continued to cause her problems.
They were more annoying than even the current Sorcerer Supreme, not as dangerous, but still, the amount of time they had messed with her plans was staggering.
Honestly, even luck should have its limits.
(End of chapter)
