Candidate: Morgana

March 12 10 CLE

(Supervised by the Council of Equity en banc)

Observation

Morgana looks frail as she approaches the entrance to the great hall. Her outstretched wings veil her behind their onyx plumage, her eyes determined. She makes no noise as she nears the door, pushing it open with a wave of her hand. The guards leave her side.

Something changes as she enters the room. Her frailty is replaced by a sinewy strength, dark energy swirling around her hands. She has increased in height slightly, her eyes illumined by a dark glow. The stone at her feet grows brackish and black, the air in the room growing cold.

Negotiation

Clouds, glimmering gold and pink in the setting sun, wafted past the window. The polished marble on the walls was cool to the touch, and Morgana took a moment to enjoy the illusion. She sat down on her bed, the down gently parting to accept her weight. She laid back on the mattress, stretching her wings. She hadn't slept in some time.

There was a knock on the door. "No," she yawned. "Let me rest another minute."

"Sister" urged a familiar voice. Morgana laughed. Kayle hadn't called her 'sister' in millennia. Morgana tapped the wall with her finger. The marble cracked and hissed at her touch, veins of taint spreading along the wall. The clouds outside began to bubble and burn as the light was smothered in a blanket of pitch.

"I'd recommend ending this charade, the corruption is quite aggressive," she sighed.

The foreign mages were staring at her, frowning. "Morgana was it?" spoke the mage in the middle.

"Yes," she said, a little power emanating from her voice. "You know why I'm here, Ashram."

The mage smiled, his eyes narrowing. "I do," he admitted, "but this is a league. This is not a decision for me alone to make." He motioned to the robed men and women on either side of him, their faces obscured by their hoods. Their purple robes glittered in the magic blue light of the chamber. It was terrifying, but Morgana would not be intimidated. There was too much at stake to be afraid.

A female on the right of Ashram cleared her throat. "Why are you here, Morgana?"

"I need your help," she admitted.

"What was that?" inquired the woman.

"I need your help."

"Speak up, please."

"I need your help," Morgana frowned, the floor cracking beneath her. "Is that what you wanted me to say? To kneel before you like some broken child?" Flowers of brackish flame burst in the air around her.

The woman grinned, her teeth shining white in the shadow of her hood. As she spoke, her voice began to change. "It is not fitting of a beggar, a lesser, to make demands of the league," she undulated, "you, of all people, should understand that."

"What are you saying?" Morgana snapped.

Another mage, a man, began to talk. "Look at you," he growled, his smile contorted and crooked. "Look at your wings. Broken, gnarled…what do you think you are? No wonder you were exiled. Wretched. Filthy. Broken. Useless."

"How dare you—"

They spoke in concert, each a smile in a sea of pitch. "Wretched. Broken. Useless. Wretched. Broken…"

"Stop it!" she screamed, rushing forward, the floor erupting in boiling tar, "Shut up!" She flung herself into the air, riding the waves of pulsing corruption as they crashed against the desk. With a scream she unleashed her power. Spectral chains pierced the forms of each mage, syphoning their life force. She lifted them into the air, their bodies writhing above their seats. Except for one.

"Such a temper," spoke Ashram, his voice calm.

Morgana gawked at him. "I don't understand—"

"Why do you want to join the League, Morgana?"

Oh no. She could feel blood welling in her cheeks. "No…"

The tortured shapes above her disappeared, replaced by eight men and women in sparkling purple robes. She stood in the center of the room hall, Ashram smiling at her. He smiled, leaning forward on his seat. "How does it feel, exposing your mind?"

"Damn you, Ashram," she hissed. "Is this how you treat your guests?"

The High Councilor smiled. "Why do you want to join the league?"

"I want to become stronger—"

"Lies," Ashram shouted, his face terrible to behold. "Why do you want to join us?"

"I'm not—"

"WHY?"

Morgana could feel her stomach tighten, her vision blurred by welling water. "Because I'm not good enough." Her power started to dissolve as she admitted it, her legs shaking. "You're the only chance I have."

Ashram laughed. He cackled in his seat, his eyes burning with some foul internal fire.

Finally he seemed to regain control of himself. "You understand our arrangement?"

"Yes," Morgana said bitterly.

"Then welcome, Fallen Angel, to the League of Legends." The Council of Equity rose to their feet as the massive doors to the League slid open effortlessly. Morgana rushed out the hall. It would all be worth it. It had to be.