The Conquest of Mytheyr
Chapter 39

Morgan had seen Raven and Tim having their fun. As a matter of fact, she knew where all her warriors were. She could sense each of them through the Kinship, where they were, what they were fighting, and their condition. But what she couldn’t sense was Semele. Every Dragonkin in the palace was searching for him.

“Don’t tell me that rat bastard has snuck away already!” hissed Morgan to herself, cutting a thrall in half.

“Oh, I’m not hiding from you, my poor girl.” Semele’s drawled, his voice penetrating her mind. The connection to her warriors shattered. Morgan gasped in pain, clutching her chest as she fell to her knees.

“No… do you even know what you’ve done?” Morgan panted. It felt like a sharp knife was embedded in her heart. The thralls around her encircled her, looking down on her apathetically.

“Don’t worry. It’s not permanent.” Semele’s voice assured her. “I would never be that cruel to you.” Morgan struggled to regulate her thoughts. Be quiet, she told herself. She took a deep breath, and finally her mind settled. “Now, no need for that.” Semele chided. “I was only going to tell you how to replace me. Straight down the hall, first set of double doors on the left. I’m waiting.”

Morgan pushed herself up. She held her hand to her chest, telling herself it hurt less if she put pressure on it. The pain was throbbing. The Kinship was not meant to be broken so suddenly. The knife was lodged deep in her chest, and she couldn’t pull it out. It was not a pleasant mental image.

She swallowed hard, ignoring the pain. She raced down the hall, stopping short at the door Semele described. No thralls attacked her. They barely glanced at her. The Dark Elves and her kin were too busy fighting their own battles to notice her. When she pushed open those doors, she was completely alone.

As the doors shut behind her, a black barrier formed over them. The same barrier formed over a set of doors on the opposite side of the room.

Morgan stood in a grand ballroom, with polished marble floors and a huge chandelier above it. The back wall was dominated by a stained glass window depicting purple mountains reflected in a lake. The rain pounded against the window. The sound was soothing to Morgan, and it helped quiet her. Clear away the anger, it seemed to say, you don’t need it yet.

“Morgan.” Semele greeted. He stood in the dead center of the room, his back to her. He turned, tilting his head a mockery of Morgan’s habit. A bloodthirsty smile decorated his face. “How wonderful to see you.”

“And may this be that last time.” Morgan answered. “This ends today.”

“Oh, really?” Semele asked. “And what makes you think that?”

“Within a few minutes, one of us will die.” Morgan said. Semele laughed.

“Such certainty. How can you be so sure?” he laughed. “After all, I have walked the same path as you. You and I, we are eternal. We are the paradigm of suffering.”

“So I was right. You did do it.”

“Of course.” Semele answered. “Our paths are the same. We are meant to rule together, to make Creation itself feel our pain. To take back what was stolen from us. To carve our scars deep into every living thing that dares to cross our path.”

“No.”

Morgan took a deep breath in, raising her hands. She pushed her hands out as she let out her breath, and power rippled from her. Her insectile wings started to glow, warping and changing. When the light faded away, two beautiful black feathered wings replaced them. Blue fire flickered along the length of her wings.

“Our paths are not meant to converge. I am the pen that creates; you are the oblivion that destroys. You’ve already destroyed yourself, and you don’t know it.”

“No. You’re wrong.” he hissed. “I am Semele, and I am no one else! I am stronger that anyone!” Morgan tilted her head at him.

“Oh? Tell me, would you ever bring me to the threshold of death?” she asked.

“What?” he said, confused.

“Would you ever willingly kill me? Not just harm me, but kill me?” Morgan pressed.

“Of course not. You are my Queen. I can’t keep you if you’re dead.” he answered, his face curling into a twisted smile.

Morgan tilted her head the other direction. Trinity became a silver sword in her right hand, and she pulled Serpent from the sheath on her side.

“But you almost did.” she said quietly.

“What?” Semele snapped.

“Do you not remember? In the cell. You gave me these.” Morgan cut open the wrappings on her wrists with Serpent, pushing up the dragonscale sleeves to reveal the jagged scars. “You still think you know everything about yourself?” she inquired.

Semele staggered back. The smile melted off his face, replaced by a look of terror.

“No… I… the blood… you…” his distress turned into laughter. A low chuckle at first, evolving into a high, cold, violent fit. Morgan had heard a laugh like it before. The insane laugh of someone who has been exposed, but doesn’t care anymore. Or worse, they still have an ace left in their sleeve. She feared it was the latter. Semele’s eyes turned jet black as he looked at Morgan again. “Do you have any idea how you affect this boy?” the parasite said. “At first I though it was just me, but no, he… really is obsessed.”

“I hate being right.” Morgan sighed. Her shoulders and back were relaxed, and her arms held her weapons loosely at her sides. She paced around Semele, and they began to circle each other. Semele’s movements reminded Morgan of an animated doll, jerky and stiff, like a puppet in the hands of an amateur.

“So what’s your name?” Morgan asked the parasite, not taking her eyes off him.

“I don’t have one.” the thing chuckled. “And that’s the beauty of it. I can do whatever I want…”

“But you have wants. I wonder where those came from?” she taunted.

“Are you implying that this boy has affected my shape?” it laughed. “No. It took a while, but I created myself.”

“It doesn’t work that way. We know that.”

The parasite scowled. He ripped Semele’s cloak off, revealing a sword strapped to his side.

“This child and I have only one thing in common. We both want something from you.” It drew the sword, taking stance. “He wants your body. I want your shadow.” Morgan took her own stance, and smirked.

“My shadow? You don’t want that. It’s even more patronizing than me.” she lunged forward.