A/N: So, sort of important update about the timing of chapter releases. In the past few months, chapters have been released on Mondays on a semi-regular basis. This chapter, as you might have noticed, was released on a Tuesday. This is because while the chapter was completed Monday night, my beta reader has since gone back to the East Coast for the summer and wasn't able to beta it in time to post it on Monday night. So what I see happening from here on out is that chapters will probably be posted on Tuesday, maybe earlier, but Tuesday at the latest, at least until she gets back from summer break (which is unlikely to be before this fic is completed).

Just a heads up in case you actually cared about update timing. Thanks for reading!

Review Responses:

Diana Raven, I'm glad you liked the omake! I'm not committing myself to it at this time, because I might be burned out, but after this fic is over, there's a chance I could do a series of one-shots just showing the characters' lives afterwards.

karma88, that is probably exactly what the old Lord Death would have done. Glad you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for the review!

SHSL Student, yes they did~ Glad you liked it!

pokelover01, thanks so much, glad you enjoyed the chapter! I realized that Ayame wouldn't be shy for too long, she's the type to just say it and get it over with! There probably was an alternate reality where that happened, among others. Too bad Cassie didn't catch those. And I'm glad you liked/noticed the change in Rei. He's definitely come a long way! Micah makes some good points but goes about acting on them in all the wrong ways, unfortunately. Poor Micah's got the Madness of Knowledge the whole way. Except instead of wanting to see the insides of people and animals like Stein, he wants to see the insides of existential concepts like integrity and loyalty and belief/value systems, so he's more a mad philosopher than a mad scientist.

fanficlove2014, thanks, so glad you liked it! Can't really talk much about Morgan and Mordred, except that you'll be seeing the resolution of their plot arc, along with all other plot arcs, very soon. And I'm glad you liked the omake. Thanks so much for reviewing and for your continued support!

Guest, yep, that's why Angela and Kim are sort of working overtime to make sure it doesn't happen. Well, Kim. Angela is working overtime to help with the war effort and show that the DWMA actually does have witches on their side.

Latisha McPeanuts, you and me both, lol. Glad you liked the chapter, and thanks for the review!


CHAPTER FORTY

Fata Morgana Pt. 1; Separation Anxiety


The airship burned its way steadily towards Ireland, rocking with the motion of the breeze. Rei stood alone in the center of an empty space in the airship's interior, feeling the motion of the ship beneath him. With his Soul Perception active around him, he could feel the wavelengths of his team spread out around the bridge, could feel Clark and Vayne pacing the upper walkways behind him, could feel Cassie curled up in one of the seats, Ayame on the deck outside, her face turned towards the breeze. Could feel both of his parents' stares burning holes in his back—although that probably had nothing to do with his Soul Perception.

He kept his eyes straight ahead of him, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He didn't dare look either to the left or to the right. If he looked to the left, he would see his father leaning against one of the airship's walls, his arms folded and a scowl on his face as he glared in Rei's direction. And if he looked to the right, the view was even worse. His mother's hair was practically standing on end, and the last time he looked, he could have sworn that her eyes were glowing.

The two of them, collectively, were even scarier than Shinigami. And that was saying something.

Rei swallowed hard, trying not to let his nervousness show on his face. Now wasn't the time to back down. He had taken a risk to get his team on his ship, and that risk had paid off. Now he had to follow through with it. It was naïve to assume that his actions wouldn't have had consequences, both within the DWMA and with his parents. But assuming everything worked out today, Rei would take the consequences.

If everything worked out today, he would have Morgan and his sisters back. Once that was accomplished, his parents and Shinigami could throw him in the dungeons for all he cared. Everything else didn't matter, and it wasn't really worth thinking about.

Decisions. Choices. Risks. The words blurred together in his mind as he stepped forward, towards the doors that led to the outer deck. He could feel the words changing him with each step he took, echoes moving through him that chased his old self away. He stepped outside into the bright sunlight and the sunlight of his dream flashed through his mind, the grassy field occupied by the stag.

When the stag had asked him what he was, the night the house had been attacked, he'd claimed to be a ghost. At the time, it had even been true. But his actions in the Death Room two days ago had not been the actions of a ghost. He didn't know whose actions those were, but it didn't matter. He was changing, becoming someone else. More and more now, he could feel his mind shifting, his thoughts becoming less indifferent, more decisive.

He didn't know who he would be at the end of all of this, and that scared him more than it excited him. He had always known what his place in the world was, had never questioned it. Had never wanted that to change. Now that it was changing, Rei didn't know what to do, only that he couldn't go back.

He didn't think he would ever be able to go back again.

Rei reached the prow of the ship where Ayame was waiting, moving past Angela and feeling his Soul Perception fizzle out where it encountered the heavy net of her concealment spell. Ayame had her face toward the wind, her eyes fixed resolutely ahead, towards their destination. She never looked like she had second thoughts, about anything. Even in the most difficult of times, Ayame selected a course of action and followed it through.

It was one of the things he had always loved about her.

Her hand was closed on the railing in front of her. He let his hand cover hers, turning his eyes forward as well. Like this, standing next to her, the change didn't feel so hard. Like this, he felt like he could go to battle.

"We're going to get them back," he said, as much to himself as to her. "Annie, Cori, Morgan. We're going to get them all back."

"Of course we will," Ayame said. "We're not leaving them behind. Not this time."

He let out the breath he was holding, feeling himself shift forward slightly so that he was almost propping himself up on the railing. His hand tightened around hers. "When we get back," he said, "I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"That's what you get for barging into the Death Room and making demands," Ayame said, although there was a touch of amusement in her voice as she looked over at him, smiling. She sounded like she was trying very hard not to laugh. "I mean, who do you think you are, right?"

Rei paled. "Don't remind me," he said. He already knew that the memory of that conversation was going to haunt him for a long time to come.

"My dad's impressed, you know," Ayame said, grinning. "He wouldn't stop talking about it."

"Seriously?" Rei asked.

"Seriously," Ayame said. She turned her head back toward the front, looking out over the ocean. "Better watch out, Rei. Before you know it, he's gonna want to adopt you into the family."

Rei snorted softly, although he couldn't quite stop the flush from coloring his face. "Good," he said. "Because the way things are going, I think my parents are going to disown me."

"Guess I'm a bad influence," Ayame said.

"Maybe," said Rei, shifting just that little bit closer to her. His arm brushed against hers, his shoulder against her shoulder. "Can't rule it out."

An alarm rang through the ship, the alert signal. Rei tensed as the noise moved through him, looking forward. Just ahead of him, he could make out the first dark smudge of land, the first hint of coastline. It was approaching rapidly, getting larger even as he watched. A voice rang out through ship's speaker system, one of the ship's engineers.

"We are approaching the target," the voice said. "All hands, return to the bridge. Repeat, we are approaching the target. All hands, return to the bridge."

Rei watched the skies, taking in a deep breath. His hands slowly loosened this grip from around the railing, from around her hand. They fell back at his side as he stepped back, taking a deep breath.

"Time to go," Ayame said, from beside him.

He nodded, shaking out his hands.

"Time to go."


The castle appeared small at first, a speck of black in the distance. As they approached it, it grew steadily larger, until it dominated the area in front of them, casting a long shadow over the airship. It was a many-tiered thing, a stone structure made up of several floors, all stretching toward the sky. It rested on a patch of earth that seemed to have been torn up with it, as if the castle had been a giant tree, and some hand had simply plucked it out of the earth.

The airship, still concealed by Angela's spell, had intended to brush up against the side of the castle, but the winds that surrounded the castle were brutal, pushing the little ship away as if it were a leaf falling from a tree. What followed was a harrowing few minutes while the airship struggled to right itself, before the airship finally found a place where it could come to a stop, several feet away from the castle's walls. It was close enough for the Cloak of Shadows' tines to reach, in theory, but the gap was wider than Rei was strictly comfortable with, the winds stronger up here than even the highest rooftops of Death City.

He clenched his fists to chase away his nervousness as the ship settled. He wouldn't back down, not now. He wouldn't lose his nerve, not while Clark, Vayne, Cassie and Ayame were all watching him.

He held his breath and let it out as the ship came to a stop, slowly letting his fingers open, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

"Ten minutes," Shinigami said, from where he was standing on the outer deck, Liz and Patty standing to either side of him.

The other members of the DWMA's strike force were arrayed around him, waiting. His parents were standing with them, both of them watching him. The anger seemed to have left them for now, and their faces were serious, telling him everything he needed to know about what was at stake here. He nodded to them and to Shinigami, then turned his back toward the strike team, approaching the railing nearest the castle.

The rest of his team moved to join him, all of them watching him expectantly.

"We have ten minutes," he told them, setting an alarm on his watch. Across from him, he saw the others do the same. "Our first priority is finding Morgan. After that, things are probably going to get a little messy. Try and meet up with the DWMA strike team if you can, but don't wander around the castle looking for each other. When in doubt, head back to the ship."

They nodded at him, expressions solemn. Rei craned his neck, studying the castle beside them. It was bigger than he imagined, but it didn't change what they had already decided.

"The plan's the same," he said. "Ayame and I will start from the top. Clark, Vayne, and Cassie, you guys start from the bottom. Everyone ready?"

Clark and Cassie nodded, Cassie pulling her headphones down so that they hung around her neck.

"Ready as we'll ever be," said Vayne.

This could be the last time you see any of them alive, a little voice at the back of his mind said. Some of you might not come back from this.

It made him feel like he should say something more, something to mark the occasion, but he couldn't really think of anything to say. He nodded at them, extending a hand towards Ayame. "Stay safe."

She transformed in a flash of light, the Cloak of Shadows settling around his shoulders. He felt for the tendrils of shadow that streamed from it, taking hold of the kunai as they formed out of the air. There was another flash of light as Vayne transformed, Clark and Vayne's souls swelling in time as a chain extended from the handle of the pendulum blade. Clark wrapped the chain around the knuckles of his free hand, then pulled Cassie close to him with the other, hooking his arm around her waist.

"Sorry about this, Cassie," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he hefted Vayne's weight with one hand. "Nothing personal."

"Time starts now," Rei said, pressing a button on his watch. Clark let out a grunt of effort, flinging the blade at the castle walls. The blade lodged into the stone, the chain going taut and sending both Clark and Cassie flying through the air. Rei watched them until he could no longer see them, then took a running leap, kicking off of the railing and throwing the Cloak's tines as hard as he could. From within her soul space, Ayame let out a battle cry, surging forward with the kunai like a streak of light.

There was an awful moment of weightlessness as he started to fall, his stomach lurching as the wind caught him and the ground rose up to meet him, and then the tines caught onto one of the higher towers and he was flying, the tendrils snapping taut and whipping him up into the air. Rei's breath caught in his throat as he flew, over the airship, over Clark, Vayne and Cassie, over everything. His momentum made him soar higher than the castle for an instant, and in that instant, he saw the castle for what it was, saw the layout of it, saw the world.

Hold on Morgan, Annie, Cori…he thought, his eyes locking onto one of the castle's towers. We're coming.


The first floor of the castle was deserted, but Clark knew that it wouldn't be for long. He landed on the other side of a broken window, glass crunching beneath his feet as he set Cassie down carefully on the ground beside him, shifting his grip on Vayne. He could feel Vayne's determination and desire to find Morgan like a current of electricity moving from the blade into his skin, a warmth and lightness and a readiness to move, but he kept a hand on it anyway, studying the area. He picked a likely looking corridor and took off at a run, Cassie close behind him.

It had not been the most graceful or most stealthy entrance, and he was fairly certain that they were going to draw any guard who happened to be alert at this time, but every guard whose attention they drew was a guard drawn away from Rei and Ayame. And at this point, stealth didn't matter. Only speed mattered.

They had ten minutes, ten minutes to put themselves ahead of the rest of the DWMA. To find Morgan before open season started. It didn't feel like nearly enough time.

"Left," Cassie said, her eyes glassy with exertion. Clark nodded, taking a left down a corridor and grabbing onto Cassie's wrist with his free hand to make sure that they weren't separated.

"Now right," Cassie said, continuing to guide him. "Now, up—no, wait down—no—."

Clark looked back at her, eyes wide. The three of them were standing near a staircase, stairs extending both up towards the higher floors and down into the bedrock that floated beneath the castle. A noise sounded in the distance, not too far from them, something that might have been footsteps. Cassie had her brow furrowed up in concentration, a scowl on her face. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, her free hand pressed to the side of her head.

"Cassie?" Clark asked, turning towards her. "Cassie, what—?"

"It's all jumbled up," Cassie said, her breathing sounding labored. "It keeps changing. I can't—ugh, I can't a fix on this."

"Up or down, Cass," Vayne said, his voice emanating from the blade resting on Clark's shoulder. Clark could see him reflected in the steel, watching Cassie with concern. Something was definitely approaching them. The air had changed, becoming deathly still. Clark felt a shiver run up his spine. "Just pick one."

"I can't—," Cassie said. "I don't know—."

Lights started shimmering on the floor and walls, magic circles. Shadow creatures dripped out of them, darkness coalescing until they took on some sort of recognizable form, hounds and beasts and crows and all of the shapes that had been present during the attack on Death City. Clark stepped in front of Cassie, but they were everywhere. There were too many of them, and more were forming every time he turned his head, blocking off all avenues of escape.

He caught Cassie's shoulder.

"Cassie—," he said, about to tell her to drop it and run, when Cassie's eyes suddenly lit up, widening.

She jerked her head up to the ceiling.

"Up!" she said.

Clark's eyes moved from her to the beasts that surrounded them, to the path she had indicated. Up. But there were monsters on the stairs too, monsters everywhere. He couldn't run that way, not with Vayne and Cassie. They would just follow him, and none of them would find Morgan.

He could see Vayne's face reflected in the steel of the pendulum blade, could see his partner's brow furrow, his jaw clench as he realized that too. When he spoke, it sounded pained.

"Just go," he said. "Leave it. We need to get out of here, Clark."

An idea struck him, brilliant and stupid at the same time. But it was the only option he had. Clark shook his head, widening his stance. "We need to find Morgan," he said.

"We can't," Vayne said. "We need to get out. We can't fight our way out of this."

"You're right," Clark said, looking back at Cassie. She turned towards him, expression solemn, and he knew from the look in her eyes that she understood what he wanted to do. She inclined her head forward, the tiniest of nods, and Clark drew in a deep breath. "We can't fight our way out of this."

That was the last thing he said before he let out a cry of effort, swinging the pendulum with all of his might and hurling it upward, at the gap in the center of the staircase. Vayne's eyes widened from within his soul space, and Clark heard him scream something as the blade soared through the air, far out of his reach.

The monsters charged. There wasn't any time to think, so Clark stretched out his hands, reaching for the power deep inside his soul. Electricity crackled and sparked within him, pulsing in time to the beat of his heart and traveling from his soul to his fingertips. He widened his stance as the monsters charged at him, light flashing off of his glasses.

As he surged forward to meet them, he shook his head, flinging his glasses off and out of his way as he charged into the melee.


The view outside of their window had stopped shifting, which was the only reason that Cori knew they had stopped. On some level, she didn't even care.

She sat curled up in the alcove by the window, eyes on the ground in the distance, her hands resting on top of her knees. Her fingers played with the hem of the black dress she was wearing and contemplated slicing through it. It would be easy, a simple partial transformation. She was fairly certain she could get through the dress, the cushions, the bed, the wardrobe, and the bedroom door, and could probably do all that before anyone came out to catch her.

But what good would that do? They were in a castle floating in the sky. Eventually, they would catch her. Eventually, they would wear her down. And when they did, things would be worse.

It was the same sort of circle that her mind had taken her around in several times. Over and over again, since the night she and Annie had been taken here. Over and over, like a rat in a cage, and she couldn't do anything about it. Because even if she wasn't scared for herself—which she was—even if she was just desperate enough to try something like that, the Morrigan had already gotten to her, had already figured out her weakness exactly.

The one thing that Cori wouldn't risk. It made her sick just to think about it.

"…Cori?"

The sound of the voice made her turn her head away from the window, turning to face her sister. Annie was standing a few feet away, head bowed uncertainly, her feet turned inward with the toes touching. She had one of her hands clasped around her arm, where the white fabric of a bandage was peeking out from beneath her sleeve, and the sight of the bandage only made Cori angrier. It made the anger rise up inside of her like a physical thing, made it infinitely more likely that she would end up doing something stupid.

And less likely at the same time. Because it was Annie. Because she couldn't risk Annie's safety, Annie's sanity, Annie's life.

Her thoughts must have showed in her eyes, because Annie stepped forward, biting her lower lip uncertainly as she reached for Cori's hand with both of her own. Her hands were cold to the touch, but Cori didn't care. They were her sister's hands, her twin's. Annie was always and would always be a part of her.

"…Are you still angry?" Annie asked, meeting Cori's eyes. Something hot and wet stung her eyes, and she looked away so that she wouldn't start crying. "It doesn't hurt," Annie went on, misinterpreting Cori's reaction. "It really doesn't. I'm—I'm alright. I'm fine as long as you're with me."

There was a quiver in the words as Annie spoke them, a tremble in the hands that were holding onto hers. Cori felt another surge of anger, because Annie was trying to be brave, and she shouldn't have to. She shouldn't have to be put in a situation where she felt like she had to be brave, for Cori's sake. This was all messed up and wrong and this wasn't the way things were supposed to go. It wasn't right.

"…The darkness doesn't come as long as you're here."

Annie's hands tightened around her own. Cori's breath caught in her throat, the words like pain stabbing into her heart. She turned towards her sister, mouth open, ready to speak.

"Annie—."

The door opened, cutting her off mid-sentence. Every instinct in Cori's body told her to run, to grab her sister and make a break for the door, to escape. She fought those instincts down, forcing herself to stay in her seat. It wouldn't work, it wouldn't help anyone in the long run. She had to behave, she had to keep Annie safe.

The man who poked his head into the room wasn't one that Cori recognized. He had dark hair, and red eyes. He wore a sort of red cloak. She didn't know him, but she knew enough by now to know that he wasn't a friend, could tell that from the way he looked over at the two of them and smiled, as if he wasn't really seeing people but something else. It was a look that she had become somewhat familiar with over the past two weeks, the look that didn't say 'oh, here's Anima and Corpore Evans, they're twins, and they're almost nine and they love each other', but instead said, 'oh, here's the freak show with black blood and the only one who can keep her in line'. It was a look that the Morrigan wore, each time that Cori had seen her. It was, strangely, not a look that she had ever seen on Mordred's face.

So it was a surprise when this man looked at them and didn't immediately ask for Annie.

"Which one of you is Corpore Evans?"

A chill ran through her. Cori felt Annie tense, and immediately pulled her hand out of her twin's grasp, throwing her arm out in front of her to shield her from the man at the door.

"Who wants to know?" she asked, tilting her chin up in challenge.

The man smiled at her. "I do," he said, "And there's really a very easy way to find out."

His eyes moved meaningfully toward the bandage on Annie's arm. Cori tensed, but got the picture, getting to her feet. Annie's eyes widened and she turned toward her sister, face paling.

"Cori?" she asked.

Cori shook her head, trying to tell her not to worry about it. She turned toward the man at the door. "I'm Corpore," she said. "What do you want?"

"Perfect," the man said, his smile never faltering. "I'm glad we understand each other. I'd like you to come with me, if you don't mind. It's only for a minute. There's something I need you to do for me."

Beside her, Annie whimpered, staring at her with wide eyes. Cori glanced at her sister and remembered the Morrigan's words about being good, about not causing trouble. Imagined Annie sitting alone in a dungeon cell, imagined what that would do to her mind. She looked back at the man.

"Why can't we do it in here?" she asked.

"Because that would be inconvenient," the man said. He inclined his head towards the door. "Shall we?"

Fear seized her, but she forced herself to take a step forward, forced herself to keep her shoulders square, her eyes set straight ahead of her. For Annie, she thought, holding it there in the back of her mind. For her sister. It was hard to do when she was so afraid, when she heard Annie gasp from behind her, heard her sister take a step forward towards her.

"Cori!" Annie began.

She reached the man, and he placed a hand around her arm, keeping her in place in case she had any ideas about running away. She did have those ideas—today, and yesterday, and tomorrow and every day that she was kept in this place—but she didn't act on them. She wouldn't. Instead, she looked back over her shoulder, at the sister who was staring at her, one hand outstretched, afraid to see her leave but too afraid to stop her.

"Don't worry, Annie," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "It's only going to be a minute. I won't leave you."

"Good girl," the man said, tugging on her arm to get her moving. As Cori walked in the direction of the door, the man looked back at Annie. "Your sister's right. Just behave yourself, and she'll be back in a minute."

The door closed, leaving Annie alone on the other side. Cori felt the weight of separation like something integral to them had broken, some crucial link between their bodies. She knew that she had to be imagining things. She and Annie had been separated before—they didn't do everything together. And yet, the moment the door closed, she wanted nothing more than to be back on the other side of it, with her sister.

Instead, she looked up at her captor. "What did you need me for?" she asked.

"You have the Anti-Magic Wavelength, don't you?" the man asked, already beginning to walk them down the corridor. "If that's so, I think you and I will get along splendidly. There's someone that I want you to meet."


The sound of Quoth's cawing startled her awake, and Morgan sat up sharply, realizing that she had fallen asleep on top of the book she was reading. Her cheek pulsed with a dull ache where the corner of the book had been pressed into her skin, but it was the least of her worries right now. The castle's security spells were active, sending her skin crawling, and Quoth was going crazy, flying from rafter to rafter and making a cawing noise loud enough to wake the dead. If she listened closely, beneath all of that, she could hear the sound of battle coming from somewhere downstairs, the shouts of combatants and the clash of weaponry.

Her blood went cold, the color draining from her face. Morgan scrambled to her feet, crawling on top of the bed and reaching for her tower room's window. It wasn't large enough to fit more than her head through, but she pushed it open, surveying the area around the castle. She couldn't see the DWMA's airship, but that didn't mean anything. The airship could be on the other side of the castle, or it could be invisible. She had no doubt that Angela could manage that, if she really wanted to.

Vayne.

A wave of pure terror clutched at her heart, and she scrambled for the door, Quoth behind her. She didn't care if this was a DWMA assault, or a false alarm, or some harebrained scheme concocted by her friends. She needed to know if Vayne was in this castle, and if he was, she needed to get him out. That was all she needed. She was already scanning her memory, searching for the sort of spells she would need to use to send her friends away, when the door to her room slammed shut, her hands still on the doorknob.

She tugged at the knob, but the door refused to give. Morgan pulled again, letting out a little shout of frustration, but the door remained closed. She nearly sobbed, sagging against the door's wooden frame. Why now? Why was her room locking now? Was it just part of the castle's security system, or—

"I do hope you're not too put out by this, granddaughter," said a voice from the other side of the door, one that made Morgan's blood run cold. Violet light appeared around the doorknob, forming a twisting pattern that hurt her head to look at. She heard something metallic slide home, the door locking itself. "It's for your own safety. I hope you understand."

"Grand—grandmother," Morgan gasped out, feeling her head spin. "How did you—why are you—?"

"Oh come now," said the Morrigan, sounding almost amused. "Don't tell me you thought that you and Mordred were really pulling the wool over my eyes? Mine, dear heart?"

The words stabbed through her chest like ice, knocking the wind out of her. Morgan felt her knees grow weak, darkness gathering at the edge of her vision. Sound turned to white noise. She tried to gather up enough mental strength to speak, but all she could manage was to open and close her mouth, looking like a fish that had found itself out of water.

"I—," she began. "I—I—."

"Oh, don't worry, dear," the Morrigan said, and Morgan could practically see the smile on her face. "I'm not mad at you, not really. It may be hard to believe, but I remember my own…indiscretions when I was your age. Still, I can't have you interfering with what's soon to come. Be a dear and wait there for me, will you? We can discuss the matter after everything's said and done."

Soft footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, like the Morrigan was walking away. Desperation jolted Morgan back to herself, and she pounded on her side of the heavy wooden door, her fist hurting with the force.

"Grandmother!" she called. "Grandmother, wait!" There was no answer. Morgan let out a ragged breath, feeling tears sting her eyes. "Grandmother, please…Please, wait…"

The footsteps continued, edging towards the stairs. Morgan felt the strength leave her then, felt herself slump down so that she was crouched on the ground, leaning against the door.

"Why?" she found herself asking. "Why are you doing this?"

She hadn't really expected the Morrigan to reply. Hadn't really expected her grandmother to still be there. When she did, it came as a surprise, but the words, coolly measured, shook her to the bone.

"Because I was once the goddess of death," the Morrigan said. "And the day will come when I sit on that throne again."


"What is it, brother?" Arthur asked, looking over his shoulder at him from atop his warhorse. "You seem troubled today."

Mordred breathed deep, his gloved hands slack around his own mount's reins. Ahead of him, Morgana sat astride her own white mare, having already reached the top of the hill they were climbing. She was dressed in riding clothes, a cloak slung over one shoulder, a falconer's glove on her arm. Seated next to Arthur, who was dressed in gleaming armor, the two of them looked as if they were going to war. Mordred, as always, looked as though he had gotten lost on the way to the library. His own black courser, shier than the other two horses, lingered behind them. It was a bright summer day, and although it was still early, the sun was blazing in a way that promised heat to come.

"Nothing troubles me," he told Arthur, trying to keep the lie from showing on his face, "except why trouble yourself with these bandits at all? Surely a king has more to occupy himself with than simple security."

Arthur flashed him a smile that made him look regal, that made him look like a king. "Ah," he said, "But where would be the fun in that."

Morgana's head jerked suddenly, as if she had caught a scent on the wind. Her eyes widened, her free hand tightening around her horse's reins. "Arthur, I've found them!" she called. "Twelve of them, dead ahead!" And then, before either of them could react, she tugged sharply on her mare's reins, the white horse rearing as it turned in the direction of the threat, charging down the hill. The crackle of magic rose up around her, her free hand already moving to free a slender steel blade from its sheath.

Arthur let out a whoop of laughter. "Our sister threatens to leave us behind!" he told Mordred. "Shall we join her?" He spurred his horse forward with a shout before Mordred could act, stretching out his hand towards the mustachioed creature running beside him. "Excalibur!"

"Milord!" Excalibur barked, transforming in a flash of light.

The two of them rode away, leaving Mordred in the dust. He drew in a breath, tightening his grip around his horse's reins and pursing his lips tightly together. Two sides of him warred with each other, the one that wanted to follow them and the one that wanted to remain behind. As always, the wrong one won out.

"Yah!" he said, snapping the reins and driving his own horse into a charge. Wind whipped around him as the horse crested the hill and power ran through him, seven spears of violet light appearing in the air around him. As his courser ran down the hill, drawing up next to Arthur's warhorse, Arthur turned his head and flashed him a grin that made his heart hurt…

Mordred drew in a slow breath at the memory, standing alone in the castle's ballroom and feeling the weight of the alarms against his skin. He breathed slow and deep, trying to chase the memories away, trying to return his mind to a place of calm, of cold, brutal efficiency. The memories wouldn't go. This time, the ghosts that haunted him, Arthur and Morgana both, refused to leave.

It was as though the world were conspiring to make him remember his sins, to face their ghosts, their memories. The alarms continued to ring, calling his mother's forces to order, and unbidden, his mind wandered, settling on a different memory…

"And where have you been?"

His mother's voice was sharp as he slunk back into the castle, and he tried to stand straight as she approached him, tried to make it seem as though he did not smell like horse, as though there were no grass stains on his clothes, as though the scent of the summer breeze wasn't surrounding him. She watched him, eyes sharp, and he averted his gaze before he knew what he was doing, hands clasped behind his back. One of her hands reached out, closing around his chin, and her nails made impressions in his cheeks as she turned his face back towards hers.

"Out again," she said, frowning in displeasure. "As if I haven't told you enough to stay away from that Arthur boy."

"I—," Mordred began, because what else was he to say. "I—I'm sorry, Mother."

"Sorry?" the Morrigan repeated, releasing his face and pushing him away from her with a disgusted scowl. "You should be. I expect this sort of thing from your sister, Mordred, but not from you."

Something inside him shrank back from the words. He lowered his eyes back to the ground, not knowing what else to say. The Morrigan paced a few steps away from him, her hands clasped behind her back. She looked like a sculpture made out of ice, cold, regal.

"Well, no matter," she said, her voice softening as she looked back over her shoulder at him. "I forgive you. After all, you can hardly be blamed for a few youthful indiscretions. In fact, Arthur's trust in you might prove to be quite useful…"

Ice settled into the pit of his stomach, cold fear coursing through his veins. His breath caught, and he didn't dare raise his head. His mother couldn't be suggesting—could she?

"Mother…?" he asked, his voice soft.

She turned towards him then, a warm smile on her face. "My dear boy," she said, her voice like honey. "My dear, sweet boy. I was wondering if you might be willing to do your mother a favor…"

Her fingertips moved carefully over his cheek, soothing away the hurt from earlier. She tilted his face up and he raised his eyes to meet her, feeling tears start to sting them. She smiled, murmuring something comforting, and brushed them away as she leaned in, whispering her request into his ear.

That request was the beginning of the end.