[Morgana’s POV]
I stand at the edge of the training grounds, my robes billowing in the night breeze as I watch Brooke and Matilda circle each other like wolves. The moonlight catches the fire dancing along Brooke’s sword, casting eerie shadows across her determined face. She lunges forward, her blade cutting through the air with a whoosh that sends sparks flying.
“Come on, old woman!” Brooke taunts, her voice echoing across the empty courtyard. “Can’t keep up?”
Matilda just grins, that infuriating smirk that’s been driving Brooke crazy all night. “You talk too much, hero.”
I should be focused entirely on this training session, but my mind keeps splitting, fracturing like a cracked mirror. Half of me is here, watching Brooke’s impressive progress, while the other half is... elsewhere.
The sensation is maddening. Like trying to read two books at once while someone whispers in your ear. My consciousness stretches thin, stretched between two bodies, two experiences happening simultaneously.
In Luna’s room, my borrowed hands run down Christopher’s chest. His skin is warm beneath my fingers, his breath coming in short gasps as I move above him. The pleasure is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I can feel myself losing control of the spell. The barriers between my mind and Luna’s are crumbling, her brain fighting back like a caged animal.
He moans beneath me, his eyes half-lidded with desire. The mark is already there on his skin, that beautiful black A burning into his flesh like a brand. I can feel it happening, the goddesses’ curse taking hold, and a thrill of triumph runs through me.
Back at the training grounds, Brooke launches another attack, her sword trailing flames as she swings at Matilda. The older woman dodges with surprising grace, her weathered face breaking into a grin.
“Better!” Matilda calls out.
A soldier bursts into the training grounds, her face flushed and her steps unsteady. The one that tried to stop Luna and Christopher. Good. Right on time.
“Hero Brooke!” she calls out, her voice slurring slightly.
Brooke and Matilda immediately break apart, their weapons lowering. The fire along Brooke’s blade flickers and dies as she turns toward the newcomer.
“What’s up?” Brooke asks, wiping sweat from her brow.
The soldier’s eyes dart between us, her expression growing more serious despite her drunken state. “Luna...” she starts, then stops abruptly, her mouth hanging open as if she’s afraid to bad mouth a priestess.
The spell I cast on Brooke, the one that eased her jealousy just enough to let Christopher stay behind, it’s time to break it. I reach out with my mind, feeling for the threads of magic I’ve woven, and with a subtle gesture, I sever them completely.
“Out with it, woman!” Matilda barks, her patience clearly wearing thin.
The soldier swallows hard. “Luna took the male hero to her chambers. I tried to stop her, but she…“
“She what?” Brooke’s voice is deadly quiet, the calm before a storm.
“She told me to stand down… but it didn’t seem right…,” the soldier admits, her drunkenness seeming to evaporate in the face of Brooke’s growing fury.
Brooke’s face goes pale, then red. I watch the realization dawn on her features as my spell breaks completely, the jealousy flooding back in full force. Her hands clench into fists at her sides.
“Christopher,” she whispers, and the name sounds like a curse on her lips.
Matilda’s eyes go wide, her face contorting with rage.
“The priestess is attempting to rape Christopher?” she growls, her voice dropping to something dangerous. She motions sharply with her hand. “This stops right now.”
We burst into motion, charging through the castle corridors like a storm. I keep pace behind them, my heart racing with excitement I can barely contain. My plan is unfolding perfectly, better than I could have imagined. I have to fight to keep the smile from spreading across my face as we round corner after corner, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
We reach Luna’s chambers in record time. Brooke’s face is a mask of fury, her blue eyes burning with an intensity that could kill. She raises her fist and hammers on the door with it.
“Goddesses don’t just knock,” Matilda snarls, and without even checking if the door is unlocked, she rears back and delivers a devastating kick.
The door explodes inward, splinters flying as it crashes against the wall. And there they are, exactly as I knew they would be.
Luna on top of Christopher. Both of them naked. The black A already burned into his skin, marking him forever.
Brooke’s sword clatters to the floor with a metallic ring. “No...” she whispers, the word barely audible but filled with such devastation that it seems to suck all the air from the room.
But Matilda sees something different. Clearly missing the A under his collarbone.
“RAPIST!” she roars, and in one fluid motion, she draws her sword and charges forward.
Just as I finally let go of Luna’s mind, Matilda’s blade catches the moonlight, arcing through the air in a silver flash that ends with a sickening thud. Luna’s head separates from her body with horrifying ease, tumbling to the floor with a wet sound while her torso remains upright for one impossible moment before collapsing onto Christopher.
Blood sprays across the bed, across Christopher’s terrified face, across the walls. So much blood.
I stand frozen in the doorway, my heart hammering against my ribs. Could this day possibly get any better? Luna is dead. The evidence of my possession is gone forever.
I reach out with my mind, listening for the false chord I’ve struck in Christopher’s consciousness. It’s still there, humming softly, making him believe he wants Luna, making him believe this was his choice. I press against it with my will.
The spell breaks like a snapped violin string.
The sound of it in my mind is beautiful. Perfect. I feel like I’m conducting a symphony, every instrument falling silent at exactly the right moment, every note placed with precision. The love spell dissolves into nothing, and Christopher’s eyes go wide, the haze of enchantment clearing from them like fog burned away by morning sun.
He looks down at Luna’s headless body on top of him, at the blood soaking into the sheets, at the severed head staring up at him from the floor with those milky white eyes, and his face crumples. Horror. Pure, unfiltered horror.
Brooke stands in the doorway. Tears are already streaming down her face. Her blue eyes are locked on Christopher.
“Christopher...” she whispers, and her voice cracks on his name like ice underfoot.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I don’t...” he stutters, his voice barely audible. “I...”
“You...” Brooke’s voice drops to something I’ve never heard from her before. Something low and filled to the brim with hatred. “I trusted you.”
The words hang in the air like smoke.
“And you were just as bad as the other guys.” Her voice trembles, but the hostility in it is rock solid. “I’m such an idiot.”
She turns on her heel and runs. Just bolts, her boots slapping against the stone floor, her sobs echoing down the corridor as she disappears into the darkness. The sound of her crying fades, swallowed by the castle’s ancient walls.
I almost laugh. What a weakling. I forgot in her world, women cry like men. Openly, without shame, letting their emotions spill out all over the floor for everyone to see. Pathetic.
Matilda steps forward, as her eyes lock onto Christopher’s collar bone. Her expression transforms from rage to disgust.
“You...” she stutters, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Your...” Her eyes are wide, fixed on the black A burned into his flesh. “You whore! You... HOW COULD YOU! YOU CHEATED ON THE HERO!”
Christopher flinches as if she’s struck him. “I didn’t... there must have been something in the drink... I was compelled.”
Matilda’s face turns purple with rage. She leans forward and spits directly onto his face. “YOU THINK THE GODDESSES GIVE THIS MARK AWAY TO VICTIMS? YOU DID THIS!”
She storms away leaving bloody footprints in her wake.
Now it’s just me and Christopher. The room is silent except for his ragged breathing and the soft drip of Luna’s blood from the bed to the floor. I step closer, letting my shadow fall across him.
“I wouldn’t have done this,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “No matter how much I drank, I wouldn’t have cheated...”
I look down at him, at the mark on his skin, at the horror in his eyes, and I nod slowly. “Even if that’s true, that mark means you cheated.”
His face crumples. “But I... I was...” The realization dawns in his eyes, beautiful and terrible. “I was raped...”
I keep my expression carefully neutral, though inside I’m dancing. “Christopher, no matter what happens, no matter what the truth is, I promise. I will help you. Okay?”
He looks at me, confusion swimming in those warm brown eyes. For a moment, I think he might see through me, might recognize the architect of his destruction. But the alcohol and trauma have clouded his mind too thoroughly.
He tries to stand, his legs wobbling beneath him. “I need to talk to Brooke.”
Then his eyes land on Luna’s head, those milky white eyes staring up at nothing, and he freezes. “Oh fuck...”
I reach out to steady him, my hand gripping his arm.
“You can’t talk to Brooke right now,” I say softly. “She’s not ready yet.”
Heartbroken tears well in his eyes, spilling over on his cheeks. But there’s something else there too, something I didn’t expect to see. Anger. It flickers behind the tears, a small flame in the darkness of his devastation.
It’s adorable.
I help him to the edge of the bed, away from Luna’s body. His skin is cold beneath my fingers, and he’s shaking so hard I can feel it vibrating through my palm.
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know… But I promise you’ll get through this.”