Morgana Chronveil had just awakened and sat by the window, her eyes lingering on the lush garden of Drakethorne House. The air was alive with the chorus of morning birds. Small, glowing magic circles dotted every corner, each dispensing gentle streams of water to nourish the vibrant plants.
Servants meticulously tended the garden, pruning flowers and trimming branches to maintain its flawless beauty. The central fountain cast a shimmering veil, lending the garden an almost otherworldly radiance.
Sophia Chronveil stood beside her mother, occasionally shifting her weight nervously as Morgana Chronveil sat calmly on a small comfy sofa. Sophia wanted to ask about everything, but she knew her mother would only share if she wished, so she stayed silent.
Both the mother and daughter were gazing at the garden; no one knew what they were thinking, only they themselves would know what was going on in their mind.
Suddenly, the doors to Morgana Chronveil's chamber swung open. Three figures entered, their refined builds and flawless faces in harmony, as their presence filled the room. Their measured steps showed urgency as their eyes quickly scanned Morgana, searching for any clues about what had happened yesterday.
"You could have at least knocked. Who knows what you might have interrupted?" Morgana Chronveil turned from the window to confront the three imposing figures striding toward her, their demeanor announcing they would not leave without answers.
Nyra Blackheart, previously composed, realized the situation and exclaimed, "Oh my! Sorry, Morgana. We were so eager to know what happened yesterday that we forgot to knock." She nudged Ragnar with her hand, signaling him to speak.
Ragnar Drakethorne nodded his head to what his wife, Nyra Blackheart, said, as this was rude of them to come without knocking.
Shane Drakethorne composed himself, then said, "Apologies—our actions were undeniably rude. But we can't remain in suspense any longer. Please, Duchess Morgana, tell us what transpired yesterday. We need to know everything."
Ragnar Drakethorne and Nyra Blackheart both nodded at their son's words as they wanted to know everything.
Morgana Chronveil was not irritated by this response, as she had recovered herself to somewhat upper sage rank thanks to Drakethorne's house and her daughter, Sophia, who had made sure to give her a lot of potions that helped her recover so quickly.
Just as Morgana Chronveil was about to say something, suddenly the door burst open, and a figure came rushing inside the chamber. She was Sera Azurestorm, her blue hair was disheveled, not having been combed since morning, and her azure eyes were looking at every figure present in the chamber.
Sera Azurestorm stopped her rush and came to steady breath. She slowly took the next few steps and reached beside Shane Drakethorne.
Shane Drakethorne looked at his wife, Sera, noticing her tired face and disheveled hair—evidence that she hadn't slept or bothered to comb it. Shane sighed internally, concerned about how much Sera was pushing herself by staying up all night, anxious about their son and the stressful events of yesterday.
Shane Drakethorne wanted to hug his wife and comfort her, but this wasn't the right moment, so he just gently wrapped his fingers around hers and looked at her eyes to give her comfort.
Ragnar Drakethorne and Nyra Blackheart, observing the private moment, both gave a deliberate cough to draw attention back to the present situation.
Both Shane and Sera, feeling momentarily flustered, composed themselves. Without revealing their inner emotions, and with their fingers still interlocked, they turned to face Morgana Chronveil, who gazed at them with her black eyes and a gentle smile.
"I am sorry for coming without knocking on the door," Sera Azurestorm said, composing herself.
Morgana Chronveil nodded her head and said,"I believe your son is the prophesied one my late grandmother warned us about." Morgana's gaze lingered on each of the four figures, one by one, as silence hung in the air.
There was shock in the eyes of all four of them. Sophia Chronveil, daughter of Morgana Chronveil, was also shocked by this revelation, as her mother had said nothing about it to her.
Ragnar Drakethorne composed himself quickly and said, "How could you decide this quickly that he is the prophecized one?"
They had all heard of the prophecy. Most nobles did at that time.
Morgana Chronveil said, "I think he is, but I am not sure. For some reason, while I was meditating in my room, I wasn't able to see the fate of the prophecised one properly anymore, and was faced with backlash. That's why when I came to the banquet, I was in that weak state."
Nyra Blackheart interjected, "How could a paragon rank be turned to that state just from a backlash?" Skepticism crept into her voice; she herself was a paragon rank, and a backlash shouldn't have weakened Morgana so much.
Nyra reminisces about the state in which Morgana Chronveil appeared: she was weak, barely at a sage rank, and coughing up blood violently. All the others were also thinking the same.
Morgana Chronveil, feeling their disbelief, grew angry. "Why would I lie? I got this backlash the day before your banquet; otherwise, I would have come in my normal state. I wasn't even in the state to attend it, but my curiosity took over, and I had to come see for myself whether this child is the one or not."
Without waiting, Morgana Chronveil added, "I was even in a worse state, but only by resting was I able to recover somewhat. At first, my aura was barely around the upper grandmaster rank. I had lost consciousness, and my daughter gave me all the expensive potions to help me recover to the Sage rank."
Sophia Chronveil nodded. "I found her in her meditation room, where she had lost consciousness. Around 5 pm, she would retreat back from her meditation room, and this time she hadn't come back, even at 9 pm, to eat dinner. So, I went inside and found her unconscious." Sophia grew teary-eyed as she recalled finding her mother in that vulnerable state.
Shane Drakethorne, Ragnar Drakethorne, and Nyra Blackheart—all paragons, with Shane newly ascended and the other two seasoned—felt a chill of horror, imagining what force could reduce a paragon to a mere sage, or worse, a grandmaster.
Sera Azurestorm was still a sage rank, but could still imagine the powers needed to reduce paragon rank to grandmaster rank. She felt a shudder down her spine.
Morgana Chronveil said, her voice trembling, "After recovering to sage rank, I had to come. With my barely restored power and my daughter's support, I forced open a teleportation portal to the banquet hall. But when I held your son's hand, that same power surged back—darker, more terrifying than before." Morgana's fingers shook as she recalled those two words: "Go Back."
Shane Drakethorne, not wanting to miss any detail, asked,"What did you see when you held Alex's hand? What fate did you see?"
Morgana Chronveil steadied her breathing. "I wasn't able to see your son's fate lines as I can see yours even now. So, when I tried to pry into it by holding his hands, I was dragged into a pitch-black void—an endless, suffocating darkness. Just as I was about to take a step, my body froze, knees buckling. A voice, ancient and echoing, commanded me to go back. That sound tore through me, and I blacked out. I don't remember anything after that." Morgana started to tremble again, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Nyra ran to Morgana, channeled soothing magic, and gave her a cup of water.
Morgana Chronveil steadied herself, and she drank water.
After a while, Morgana Chronveil added, "When I was meditating on the fate lines of the prophecised one, fate lines were disheveled as if someone tried to interfere with it, and when I tried to approach those lines, I received backlash, as if some power wanted to protect what little remained."
Morgana Chronveil took a breath. "I feel that power back then, and this power I felt while I held your son's hands are the same."
Shane Drakethorne asked urgently, "Do you mean those disheveled fate lines are my son's?"
Morgana Chronveil nodded slowly, her voice hushed. "Yes, I think the prophecy is about your son. This morning, right after I woke, I tried to meditate and look at those disheveled fate lines again—but they had vanished, as if they'd never existed at all. It's as though the prophesied one has been erased."
Sera Azurestorm, who had been listening, said, "No, my son is still breathing; he was with me all this morning, and I just came here after making him fall asleep."
Shane Drakethorne squeezed his wife's fingers gently, trying to reassure her that nothing would happen to their son.
Morgana Chronveil said, "I am not sure where those fate lines disappeared to, as in that space I can see the fate lines of many beings I know of and can think of. Fate lines only disappear when someone dies. Maybe the prophesied one is not your son, but someone else, and he died. But the prophesied one should not die this easily."
Morgana Chronveil wished she could ask her mother, who was over 100 years old and had secluded herself in her meditation room five years ago, telling others not to enter until she emerged. I could only wait for my mother to come back. She sighed, accepting this situation for now.
Ragnar Drakethorne, who was listening to all this, said, "Let's end this discussion for now. We can't know who the prophecy one is and who the one is that made Morgana lose consciousness when she tried to pry into Alex's fate." Ragnar exited the chambers after saying this, as this couldn't be concluded, so there is no point in discussing anything from this. He went to his training room, his red eyes trying to devour anything that it could.
Sera Azurestorm and Shane Drakethorne exited after a short while and headed towards their son's chamber, more like their chambers now, as they too sleep there.
Nyra Blackheart stayed back to talk with Morgana Chronveil. They are more like friends who share a similar age.