The full moon loomed overhead, casting a silvery glow over the vast gardens of the Lunaris Grand Palace. The ornate hedges and statues that had once been a mark of serene beauty now seemed a ghostly, disjointed labyrinth, the echoes of distant music barely audible from the ballroom behind her. Morganna could feel the aftershocks of her work in the air—the fracturing confusion, the slipping masks, and the silent panic seeping into every guest. It was her favorite kind of symphony.
She continued along the garden path, the heels of her boots crunching against the gravel with purposeful precision. It was then that she sensed something—the lightest brush against her consciousness, a pulse of magic, not her own. Morganna's lips twisted into a smile. She didn't have to turn to know that she had company.
"You could try harder, Isolde," Morganna called over her shoulder. "For a witch of your caliber, I expected a more elegant entrance."
A figure stepped out from the shadows, her cloak blending into the night, the soft blue luminescence of her eyes marking her presence in the dark. Isolde—the witch who had long danced a curious line between friend and foe—tilted her head, her lips curving up into a sardonic smile.
"And here I thought I was being subtle." Isolde's voice was cool, the sound weaving effortlessly into the breeze. She moved closer, her fingers trailing across the petals of a rosebush, the flowers wilting slightly at her touch. "I suppose there's no fooling you."
Morganna turned to face her fully, the two women standing in stark contrast—one bathed in crimson, the other in shadows. "There never is." Morganna's gaze roved over Isolde, a mischievous gleam in her golden eyes. "But I assume you have more than mere pleasantries for me tonight, yes?"
Isolde's smile widened, though her eyes remained calculating. She reached into her cloak, retrieving a rolled parchment sealed with a wax crest. She extended it towards Morganna, her gaze locked on her. "I come bearing news. Something that might interest you."
Morganna took the parchment, her eyes flicking down to the crest. It was marked with a sigil she knew all too well—the sigil of Emperor Darius Valen. Her expression remained impassive, though a fire ignited behind her eyes as she broke the seal, unrolling the parchment. The message was written hastily, its contents blunt.
"It seems," Isolde murmured, her voice laced with amusement, "that Emperor Valen has finally decided to make a move against you. He's convened a council with the lords of Valenstone—they mean to crush you, Morganna."
Morganna looked up from the parchment, her smile widening, her teeth gleaming like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. "Is that so?" She rolled the parchment back up and tossed it to the ground, her eyes fixed on Isolde. "He's getting desperate, isn't he?"
"Desperate men are dangerous." Isolde stepped closer, her voice a mix of caution and curiosity. "Valen is gathering his strongest, Morganna. He will not rest until you're brought to heel."
Morganna laughed, a low sound that rippled through the air like the striking of a bell. "And yet, he still underestimates me. I could turn his precious lords into sniveling puppets within minutes." Her fingers began to glow with tendrils of chaos magic, the translucent swirls dancing around her hands as if eager to be unleashed.
Isolde watched her, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You should tread carefully, Morganna. Valenstone is not like Lunaris. They will fight you with everything they have—and not all of them are as easy to break."
Morganna's eyes glinted, her voice taking on a cold edge. "I don't need them to be easy, Isolde. I just need them to be human. Humans are fragile things, no matter their titles." She let the magic fade, her gaze softening—but only slightly. "But you're not here to caution me, are you?"
Isolde hesitated, a flicker of something uncharacteristically vulnerable passing through her expression. "Perhaps not entirely." She looked at Morganna, her eyes meeting hers directly. "I'm offering you something, Morganna—an alliance, of sorts. If Valen is serious about this, you will need more than chaos. You need someone who knows him—someone who knows his weaknesses."
Morganna arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "And what, dear Isolde, would compel you to join my side in this?"
Isolde's smile turned into a smirk, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. "Let's say I have my own scores to settle with Emperor Valen. And you, for all your flaws, are the only one mad enough to make it happen." She stepped closer, her eyes boring into Morganna's, her voice lowering. "We could burn him together—bring Valenstone to its knees."
For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. Morganna watched Isolde, weighing her words, the silence a charged thing between them. Finally, Morganna's lips curved upward, her eyes narrowing in delight.
"You know," she said softly, "I do love it when old enemies decide to get along for a mutual cause." She extended her hand, the crimson glow of her magic highlighting the sharp angles of her fingers. "Very well, Isolde. Let us burn Valenstone to ashes."
Isolde took Morganna's hand, her own magic sparking at the contact—a soft blue light mingling with the crimson, the two forces briefly intertwining. It was an alliance of necessity, of shared hatred, and of vengeance long overdue.
Morganna pulled away, her eyes now alight with renewed purpose. She glanced back towards the palace, where the lights of the ballroom still flickered in the distance. The nobles were still there, scrambling to recover from Leontius's self-destruction, but their world would crumble soon enough.
"We begin tomorrow," Morganna said, her voice ringing with authority. "Valenstone will fall, and Emperor Darius will regret ever daring to challenge the Crimson Witch."
Isolde gave a nod, her cloak swirling around her as she turned away. "I'll make the necessary preparations. Just remember, Morganna—this alliance is as fragile as the world we're about to break. Do not cross me."
Morganna's smile was a mix of charm and menace, her eyes gleaming. "I would never dream of it, Isolde. Besides, we make such a delightful pair, don't we?"
Isolde disappeared into the darkness, leaving Morganna alone in the moonlit garden. The Crimson Witch took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation build within her. She had always known this moment would come—the confrontation with Valen, the final reckoning with the empire that had wronged her.
She turned on her heel, the moonlight casting her shadow long across the garden path. She had a kingdom to shatter, an emperor to break, and now, she had an ally who was just as eager to see it burn.
As she strode away, a cold, determined smile played on her lips. She could already picture the iron gates of Valenstone twisted and crumbling, the once-mighty empire reduced to cinders.
And she would be there, standing amidst the ashes, the continent of Asteria finally trembling beneath her feet.