Maya's unwavering gaze was locked on the older woman just beyond the glass.
"So that's it, huh? This will be the last time I ever see you alive, and you're okay with that being the last thing you ever say to me?"
Morgan sipped on her ever present mug of questionable liquid. "Indeed, Mystic Maya. As my hours left on this earth are dwindling, I have only time to say what I mean. And I mean it when I say that you are still unfit to be Master."
Maya balled her hands into fists. "And so after all these years, you still can't say that you feel any remorse whatsoever. For trying to frame me and trying to have me killed."
Morgan dabbed at her lips with the sleeve of her kimono. "Has it truly taken this long for that to sink in? You're simply proving my point all the more. Had my plans succeeded, Kurain would be in far better hands."
"But why!?" Maya finally snapped. "Why does it have to be like this, Aunt Morgan!? Why does our family history have to be written in blood!?"
Morgan kept her composure and took another sip from her mug. "Whatever our history is written in matters not. What matters is the story that it tells. And your story, Mystic Maya, will be a legacy of failure. Just like your mother's."
Maya had finally had enough and stood from the detention center chair. "You can believe that all you want." She then reached into her robe and pulled out a handcrafted card. "I refused to bring Pearly with me today, for obvious reasons, but she wanted me to give you this." She slid the card through the tiny slot in the glass before turning and leaving. "Goodbye, Aunt Morgan. Tell that she-devil daughter of yours that my sis says hello when you meet her tomorrow."
Morgan picked up the card and read it, her facial expression not changing in the slightest.
Happy Birthday, Mommy!
Love, Pearl