#merlin’s descendant
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In search for book of series on wattpad, read half of it like year ago and then js left to try ao3, but it’s been bothering me a bit so I need to find it:
Dumbledore goes to America to bring a kid to learn at hogwarts,kids very smart and powerful. Turns out he is descendant of Merlin and people start to treat him with more respect and fear. He is romantically involved with hermione granger and hates Ron, he doesn’t have an eye because of something in third year lupin class.
Please help
#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry#hogwarts houses#gryffindor#slytherin#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#harry potter#ron weasley#hermione granger#hermione granger x reader#hermione granger x male reader#draco malfoy#neville longbottom#america#American transfer#Merlin#Merlin’s descendant#philosophers stone#sorcerer’s stone#chamber of secrets#prisoner of azkaban#goblet of fire
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Percy Yokog – The Reluctant Hero of Mystic High
Age: 16 (Looks 17)
Species: Human (Extremely distant descendant of Merlin)
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Appearance:
Athletic build
Messy brown hair (constant rushing to school = bedhead vibes)
Hazel eyes
Red-and-white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a sleek metallic bracelet etched with magical runes
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Backstory:
Percy Yokog’s life changes forever when his family moves to a mysterious, rapidly growing town. Unbeknownst to him, he carries a faint trace of Merlin’s blood in his veins—so diluted after countless generations that it amounts to less than 1%. Yet, even this tiny connection grants him immense magical potential, albeit in highly concentrated bursts. His mana pool is small, but his spells are devastatingly precise.
As a human navigating a world of monsters and magic, Percy’s role as a bridge between the two puts him in the crosshairs of those who fear change—and those who seek to exploit his hidden strength.
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Abilities:
1. Light-Based Magic: Creates powerful, nearly indestructible shields.
2. Aura Shift: Temporarily borrows abilities from bonded monster friends (e.g., werewolf strength, vampire healing). Stronger bonds unlock greater abilities, but overuse takes a physical toll.
3. Life Force Conversion: A glitch in his bracelet lets him burn life energy as mana when desperate, but the cost to his body is immense.
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Personality:
Reluctant hero with a strong moral compass.
Quick learner who compensates for low mana with strategy and precision.
Loyal to his friends, but critical of his own abilities.
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Themes:
Percy’s story is about resilience, relationships, and using what little you have to achieve greatness. His faint connection to Merlin’s bloodline is a symbol of untapped potential—it’s not the amount of magic you have, but how you wield it that matters.
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“Even a drop of water can carve a mountain—if the pressure is high enough.”
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This is Percy Yokog, one of the main characters from my series, Mystic High.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0734c74105771f10b1c39335d94b97e1/92eab6d4e949846d-4a/s540x810/6dba37007673c8d22a2f63fb0b028dcdffaba0ff.jpg)
#original character#Mystic High#oc#oc introduction#percy yokog#anime vibes#fantasy#modern fantasy#magic#monster world#reluctant hero#light magic#aura shift#human protagonist#storytelling#writing community#magic and technology#original story#character design#tumblr writers#fiction#paranormal#fantasy worldbuilding#merlin’s descendant#anime aesthetic#character spotlight#bedhead hero#dark fantasy#indie author
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Rise of Red
So I’m watching this movie and doing Simone Biles levels of mental gymnastics to make this all connect to the original story and have the plot holes fill in. Here are my attempts at cohension from the beginning:
SPOILERS!!!!
It’s been 30 years since Auradon was founded.
The math isn’t mathing but sure, let’s say after D3, everyone went on adventures, Ben and Mal got married and they all took time to mature and grow in their roles. As the years have passed, they recognize what a terrible job Beast did as a leader and they want to increase trade and foreign relations with other countries.
Uma says that Ben and Mal put her in charge of everything while they (along with Evie and Jay) are making alliances with other countries.
Of course! Because Beast sucks as a leader so they don’t trust him to take back over even if only temporarily. Gil and Harry (and most of the pirates we’ve seen) are missing from Uma’s crew, because she asked them to help Ben and Mal on their journey. Hook is serving as Captain in Uma’s absence and Jay and Gil have grown very close since traveling Auradon together through the years so it makes sense.
Chad is Cinderella and Charming’s son, but Chloe will one day be queen of Cinderellasburg.
Cinderella and Charming had fertility issues at first and Chad is adopted. Chloe is their miracle baby and, though younger, is the true-born heir to the throne. They love and support Chad in all things and have pampered him his whole life. Given the struggles they had to conceive, they don’t regret showering Chad with love but they recognize he’s a bit spoiled and not fit to be king one day.
The future shows Red and the Queen of Hearts ruling on the throne together. I guess we’re assuming since she’s black and red it means she’s evil.
We never actually see that this future is prevented. The ultimate endgame may still be the same, that Red rules with her mother. I’m going to say, this future was not prevented, just that the Queen of Hearts turn to evil was delayed.
In the past, many of the heroes and villains that we know are in high school together.
Many but not all. This is just a blip in their histories and the stories to come in the future are still canon. We don’t actually see any of the villain/hero pairs (Maleficent & Aurora) (Hook & Peter Pan) (Hades & Hercules) so outside of two couples being established (Jasmine and Aladdin in love and Ella and Charming flirtation/mutual pining) there’s nothing that makes some of the stories automatically false. I’d say some of the events in high school just blacken their hearts more and turn them into real villains.
Bridget and Ella’s personalities seem to be switched (with a more evil skew on Bridget’s end as an adult). This one is long.
Ella was Bridget’s only friend and because she was grounded, she wasn’t supposed to be able to make it to the Castlecoming. She cancels on Bridget and leaves her alone. However, Fairy Godmother is also friends with Ella and has been practicing her magic more and is now in possession of a powerful spellbook (more on that later). She wants a way to help her and is finally successful casting an enchantment that gets Cinderella to the dance for a short time. When her curfew hits, the spell will be reversed and send her home. When she gets to the dance, instead of finding Bridget, she gets caught up in Charming and after the song playing changes to So This is Love, they share their first dance. The two are so engrossed in each other and discovering their feelings are mutual that she doesn’t notice anyone or anything else. However, Bridget sees her and is excited at first until she realizes Ella isn’t seeking her out. She’s stuck on Charming. The song playing when Ella walked in is Shuffle of Love and Bridget is trying to focus but makes a mistake. She turns again to Ella to see if she’ll jump in and help but she’s still too distracted by Charming. Left heartbroken she moves and just watches them on the dance floor while staying isolated on the sidelines. She tries to ignore her feelings because she should be happy for Ella but she can’t stop crying a little. She should’ve been there for her. Isn’t that what friends are for? Then, Uliana comes to talk to her and seemingly comfort her. For a second, she thinks she’s coming around to be her friend. She doesn’t think twice when she offers her a cupcake. Suddenly she’s transformed to a monster and everyone around her starts laughing. Ella and Charming’s attention is finally broken from each other and they turn to see what’s going on. Upon seeing this monster, they laugh too thinking it’s just a prank—with no idea who the monster is. But Bridget’s last shred of hope is broken seeing her only friend laugh at her pain after ignoring her the whole night. When Ella finally realizes who it is, she tries to run after her and loses her shoe. She almost catches her to comfort her but then is whisked away by Fay’s spell and finds herself back at, sitting in the barn. Ella, still grounded is left feeling a mixture of joy, love, pain and regret from the events of the night. She can’t contact Bridget or see her until school starts again on Monday. By Monday it’s too late. Bridget, having spent the weekend with no one to talk to or comfort her decides Love Ain’t It and takes on a new mantra for her life. She looks into the Looking Glass and sees her evil future with her daughter. Fine, if that’s what she becomes, why try? At school, Ella tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness but it’s too late. She tries to tell her how her kindness made her strong, how she’s always respected that about her and loves her like a sister but it’s not enough. She tries to show her with her actions. She takes on the persona Bridget always had because it was good, it was kind, it was true strength. She doesn’t want to suffer for one mistake and doesn’t want Bridget to allow that night to define her, but again, it’s too late. Bridget already knows how this story ends and it’s not with love and friendship. She decides to let the fear and power be her friend and becomes the worst bully they’ve ever seen.
Uliana and her crew were troublemakers so would never have been able to open the spellbook and prank Bridget.
Before Red and Chloe showed up, Uliana and her crew were going to lure someone else in to get the book. Fay! They manipulated her with fear and hope—the promise that she could use the Sorcerer’s book when they were done to perfect her magic. So she did it, just like her daughter tried to take the wand in D1.
Merlin just lets Red and Chloe into school, partners them with their mothers “coincidentally” and sees the open window after the break in but doesn’t try to find out who else was able to escape.
He’s aware that Red and Chloe are time travelers and knows there’s a reason to change the timeline as they have. He knows what’s to come with Beast banning magic and shipping off the villains. He wants to change that story too and these girls are the catalysts. This change in history is going to open the doors for magic to be welcomed back to Auradon in the future as they return and have to fix what they’ve changed.
#descendants rise of red#rise of red#descendants#brandy cinderella#chloe charming#chad charming#red descendants#auradon#merlin academy#bridget descendants#uliana descendants#uma descendants#queen of hearts
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FOR MERLIN’S SAKE || MORGIE LE FAY
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4d36e43c88248891d04f8f492d23232b/3a6d8082295a30fb-68/s540x810/37c4b3ac0d01f6b6b8f5b4292d45e72b4a08e6f5.jpg)
pairings: morgie x merlinsdaughter!reader
summary: Merlin finds out his daughter is dating the son of his enemy, Morgie.
genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort
one-shot; wc: 1.8k — requested by @stargener
main masterlist morgie masterlist
a/n: it was so fun to write, although it took me a while to write, so i apologize for the long wait, i hope this was up to your expectation.
Sneaking out wasn’t easy especially for Morgie, being friends with the VK’s was hard, cuz god forbid what would happen if he gets caught even TALKING to a royal, but dating one? He might aswell sign his death sentence, but for the first time in his life, he didnt care, he was willing to risk it all, still he was careful, the VK’s aren’t the nicest people after all.
Y/n and Morgie have been dating for quite some time now, in secret of course, dating a goody two shoes is one thing, but dating merlin’s daughter is whole different thing.
Sure, Merlin allowed villains to enrol to his school but that doesn’t mean he was fond of them, they were troublemakers after all, so god knows how he would react if he finds out his daughter is dating one.
Morgie was calmly making his way around the town near the academy, he was trying to look as normal as possible, but inside he couldn’t wait to see his princess. Y/n and him had planned to meet at a cafe in town, where they provide private booths, so the two can finally feel like a normal couple at a cafe without anyone seeing.
When he arrived at cafe, he wasn’t surprised to see the her were already there, always the punctual goody two shoes.
“And here i thought i’d surprise you by being early” Morgie slid next to her, leaning down to kiss her.
“Mhmm, as if you’ll ever beat me” Y/n said chuckling softly.
Morgie knew that being punctual was important to Y/n so he always tried his best to be on time even though at times he can be late.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long for me” Morgie said as he grabbed the menu from the table before wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him.
“I haven’t, don’t worry- oh! we should try that one” y/n pointed at the couple’s special on the menu. It wasn’t anything “special” really, just a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, some whipped cream and a cherry on top.
“Ohhhh, romantic” Morgie teased “ok, let me go order and i’ll be right back” he rubbed their noses together, before actually leaving to order.
Unfortunately when he left his booth, a certain group of people were entering their own booth saw him.
“What’s he doing here?” Hook asked with a confused look on his face.
“I dont know and i dont care, lets just order” Maleficent said before sitting down and grabbing the menu immediately with Hades following right behind her.
Meanwhile Hook and Uliana gave each other a look, deciding to stay hidden keeping a look at the booth Morgie just left, it was covered with a black curtain like the rest of the seats.
Morgie not noticing the prying eyes, hummed happily with their order in hand before entering their booth.
Uliana and Hook eyes widen at the sight, the daughter of their dear principal Merlin, on a date, with a villain? ‘
This is gonna be good’ Hook and Uliana thought before joining Hades and Maleficent.
“Our little Morgie has been hiding a dirty little secret from us and he’ll pay for it” Uliana said maliciously.
“What is she talking about?” Hades asks Hook.
“He is out on a date with y/n l/n” he smirks.
Maleficents eyes widen “as in principal Merlins daughter, y/n l/n?”
“Yep”
Once y/n arrive back to her dorm, she was confused to see a letter from her father asking her to meet him in his office.
Upon arriving at her father’s office, y/n grew anxious at the absolute silence the place had, usually her father would clumsily searching for things but when she entered, the door behind her closed immediately, she saw her father at his chair rubbing his temples.
“Dad? Is everything okay?” The girl asked as she walked towards her dad.
“Sit.” The harsh tone of her usually nice father made her heart beat faster as she sat down as fast as she could.
“What happened?” She was met with silence.
“I want you to tell me the truth, y/n” Merlin finally looked at her in the eyes.
“Are you dating Morgie Le Fay?” Her dad asked with cold voice.
Her heart pounded against her chest in panic, she could feel her lungs closing in, tears prickling her eyes, how did her father find out?
“Wha-what? No! No, i-i would never!” She denied stuttering trying hard to convince her father with that one single sentence.
“Y/n! WHY WOULD DATE A VILLAIN!?” Her father slammed his fist on the table.
“I told you, im not!” The girl continued to deny.
“THE SON OF MY ENEMY!? SERIOUSLY!?”
“Dad- NO! I’m not dating anyone!!”
“Stop with the lying! I don’t want you anywhere near that boy ever again!” Her father warned
“What!? No!?” Y/n stood up, facing her father with a panicked looked on her face.
“If you’re not dating him then avoiding him wont be a problem, right? If you go near him, i will know.” Merlin said before leaving the room leaving his daughter alone.
“No..” the girl whispered before sitting back down, her legs weak, heart heavy, sobbing her eyes out with no one to comfort her.
As days passed, Morgie continued to try and talk to her, it broke her heart to avoid him everytime but she didn’t have a choice.
While she wasn’t exactly sure how her father found out but she had an inkling feeling that it had something to do with the VK’s, snickering at her everytime they happen to pass by each other, i mean, how can they do this to their friend? To Morgie? But she guessed that villains will be villains.
Morgie on the other hand, was hurt and confused about why his girlfriend suddenly started ignoring him out of nowhere, he thought everything was fine between them.
The Vk’s was hanging out in the courtyard, Uliana making fun of Bridget and Ella as usual, normally he would be laughing along with them but today, he cant find it in himself to care, he stared into air thinking about everything he could’ve done to anger his girlfriend enough to ignore him. He can’t wrap his head around it.
“Right, Morgie?” Hook nudged him chuckling.
“Huh?” Morgie asked, he didnt know what they were talking about.
“You ok, Morgs?” Maleficent asked noticing the weird behaviour of her friend.
“Hmm, yeah im fine, just tired, i think im gonna head back to my dorm now” Morgie said before standing up and walking away.
“ its only 4 in the afternoon” Hades said.
Hook and Uliana looked at each other with guilt.
Later that night, a knock was heard from outside of Morgies dorm.
“What?” Morgie asked annoyed at the interruption from his sulking.
“We need to talk to you about something” Uliana said, with a look of…guilt? Nono, that can’t be, Uliana doesnt feel anything other than hatred.
“What is it?”
“Can we come in?”
“Sure” Morgie said opening the door wider for them.
There was silence in the room, Morgie waiting for them to say something.
“We were the one who told principal Merlin about your relationship with L/n” Hook confessed.
“WHAT!?” Morgie was livid “ARE YOU CRAZY!? THATS CRUEL!” he scoffed “EVEN FOR YOU PEOPLE”.
“We’re so-“
“HOW DID YOU EVEN KNOW!?”
“When you went to the cafe with her” Uliana said hesitantly.
“AND YOU DIDNT EVEN TELL ME!? What? You just told the principal, without even confirming with me, i cant believe you guys” Morgie was disappointed at his friends.
“Look, we’re sorry-“ Hook started.
“Yeah? Well, sorry isnt going to bring her back to me, is it?” Morgie glared at them.
“We can help” Uliana pleaded.
“Just leave guys, i dont want to look at you right now” Morgie sat down on his bed with his back turned to them.
He felt pats on his back along with small apologies.
Meanwhile on the other side of the campus, you can find a girl in her bed sobbing her heart while listening to sad songs, when a knock was heard from her door, she knew that it was her father so she just ignored it but that didnt stop the bearded man to enter her room.
“I didn’t answer the door bc i wanted you to come in” the girl said sitting up from her bed and removing her headphones before brushing her tears away.
The mans heart broke at the sight of his daughters tear stricken face, he knew it was his fault, how miserable he made his daughter.
“Oh sweetie” the man sat next to his daughter.
“Look at you, i am so sorry, dear, i let my anger towards his mother get in the way of your relationship, i truly apologise” the dad caressed his daughters hair who looked at him shocked.
“What made you change your mind?” The girls asked.
“He makes you so happy, dear, I cant bear to see you like this, i dont want to ever see you crying, especially because of me” the dad explained, his tone filled with understanding and love.
“Are you sure?” The girl asked hopefully.
“Yes. For a villain, he’s not so bad” he joked making the girl chuckle “as long as he treats you like the princess you are, you have my blessing”
“Oh!! Thank you, Dad!! Thank you, thank you, thank youu!!!!” Y/n hugged her dad tightly.
The next day, the girl didnt waste time to search for her dear boyfriend.
Both meeting in the courtyard of the school, running to each other as they fall into each others arms, tenderly kissing.
“I’m so sorry” both of them said at the same time.
“Why are you saying sorry for?” Y/n asks confused.
“It was Hook and Uliana who told your father about us, they saw us at the cafe that day, im so sorry” Morgie apologized.
“No, it wasn’t your fault, it was mine, my father didnt react well to us being together so i ignored you, im sorry” the girl countered.
“I will beg principal Merlin to let us be together, i would do anything for you” Morgie said connecting their foreheads together and caressing her cheek.
“You don’t have to, because we have his blessing “ the girl stared into his eyes grinning.
“What? Are- are you serious!?” The boy said holding the girls face in his hands, the girl nodded to which the boy lifted her off the ground and span her around.
“Oh! I can’t believe this!” Morgie chuckled.
“We’ll finally be together” Y/n said softly.
“Forever.”
#morgie#morgie le fay#descendants: the rise of red#rise of red#descendants#descendants x reader#x reader#morgie x reader#merlin#merlins daughter#peder lindell#flamingoofeathers#morgie le fay descendants#morgie descendants#morgie le fay x reader
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shattered reflections
pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)
A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!
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A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.
Shit, you think.
They finally discovered my secret.
“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.
A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”
The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”
Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.
“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”
You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.”
Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.
“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”
You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.
Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”
The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”
Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”
The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”
She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.
“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”
You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”
“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.”
At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”).
Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.
Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.
Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give.
How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.
Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.
“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”
“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”
After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.
…Or so they think.
“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.
A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.
“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.
Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.
“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.
“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.
“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.
He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”
“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.
“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”
He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”
“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.
“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.
Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.
“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”
You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.
Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain.
You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.
No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.
Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.
“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”
A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face.
“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.
A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.”
“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.
“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm.
“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”
Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.
“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.
“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.
“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”
Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”
Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”
“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.
“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”
Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”
“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”
“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”
“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”
Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”
Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.
Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.
“You remember the plan?”
Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.
“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”
Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”
Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.
“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle.
Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.
Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.
At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it.
An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).
He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.
Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.
He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.
At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.
At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.
He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside.
To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…
…library?
Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.
He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.
Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library.
Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.
He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.
Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…
However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.
Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.
After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.
He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—
He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.
On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.
He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.
Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.
Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…
His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.
From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.
And that’s when he sees it.
A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape.
A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows.
Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.
The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him.
He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.
A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.
Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.
He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.
If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.
He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.
Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground.
The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.
As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.
Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.
There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.
Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.
You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.
He knows your secret.
“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.
“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.
After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.
Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.
“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.
“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”
You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”
At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.
“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”
You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.
“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”
You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”
Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”
Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.
“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”
Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.
“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”
“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.
“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”
“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”
“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”
Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.
“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.
“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.
“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”
“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”
You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.
“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”
“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”
“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.
“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”
“I still need it.” “But why?”
“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”
He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”
You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”
God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”
The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.
You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.
Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.
Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.
You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.
Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.
You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.
Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations.
Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.
“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.
Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now.
“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”
You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.
The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.
Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.
Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.
Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey.
The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air.
As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.
Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”
A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.
Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.
You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.
Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off.
Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body.
You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.
Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.
You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.
Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.
An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.
Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.
The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.
Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes.
A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.
It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.
You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.
Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.
Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.
As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.
A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.
Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.
The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.
The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.
You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.
Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me?
Did she ever even love me?
Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.
Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.
Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.
Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.
Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight.
Almost done. Almost.
Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself.
What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.
Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.
Not yet, anyway.
After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.
A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through.
So, so close…
You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.
That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.
The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.
Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.
You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.
“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.
You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.
And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.
The book in front of you was.
The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.
Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.
Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.
But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.
The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.
Dragon, no.
Claws, not that.
Chasm, not that either.
None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.
Chains. The perfect spell.
“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.
As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”
Nothing.
Then, boom.
The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.
You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.
Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.
Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.
More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.
In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.
Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.
You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.
You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.
Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.
He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core.
But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.
The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.
Except they aren’t yours.
Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams.
A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.
“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”
A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.
“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”
Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.
The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.
You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.
“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.
You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.
“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.
“I’m not pitying you.”
You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.
“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”
You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”
“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”
Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.
“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”
You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.
You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.
You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”
Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.
Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.
It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.
Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.
Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.
It’s too late to turn back now.
Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.
Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”
You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.
The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.
You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.
Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.
The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.
You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering���s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.
Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.
“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.
You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”
The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.
Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe.
You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.
As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.
The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.
And that’s when it hits you.
The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.
And the truth was what drove them to madness.
You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.
“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.
Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.
“Your future is one worth living.”
His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.
“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”
You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.
“You have a bright future ahead of you.”
You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.
“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”
You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.
In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.
“You’re talented.”
The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.
“And smart.”
The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.
“And pretty.”
Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.
“You’re a good person.”
The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.
“You have a bright future ahead of you.”
You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.
“You’re not worth it.”
Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.
“I know so.”
The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.
Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.
Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.
You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.
With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.
“You’re late.”
You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.
“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”
He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning.
His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”
Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”
His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”
You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”
Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.
“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.
You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.
“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.
You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”
You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”
You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.
“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”
You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”
Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”
Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”
“Do you hate me?”
Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.
The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.
The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.
But he does.
“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”
In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.
“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.
You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”
You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”
You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”
“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you.
It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
All because of him.
“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference.
“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.
“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.
He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”
You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”
“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.
The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.
end x
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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!
do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.
#descendants#descendants the rise of red#rise of red#descendants 4#x reader#x y/n#morgie#morgie x reader#morgie x y/n#morgie le fay#morgie le fay x reader#morgie le fay x y/n#descendants morgie#descendants morgie x reader#descendants morgie le fay#descendants morgie le fay x reader#magical fight#fantasy enemies to lovers#descendants x reader#descendants au#disney x reader#disney descendants#merlin#merlin's daughter#descendants merlin#angst#x reader angst#angst with a happy ending#descendants vk#villain x reader
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With how Hades' and Maleficent were holding hands in Merlin Academy, therefore clearly openly dating, its funny Maleficent and Mal acted like it couldn't be known that Hades' is Mal's dad. You just know every adult on the Isle who attended school with Maleficent and Hades upon hearing Maleficent act like Mal's dad is just some weak human or whatever lie she spread about him, instantly recalled Maleficent and Hades making out in hallways and holding hands around the school and basically being an open evil couple like, "...Sure, Jan."
#disney descendants#descendants#descendants the rise of red#the rise of red#morgie and uliana if they were on the isle: 'lmao okay maleficent say hi to hades from us'#like this movie is annoying with merlin academy#but it does open some funny stuff lmao
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Morgie this. Morgie that. Have you seen dude's mom.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a7d73d0f862b43fa21d7390598904dc4/c66b2da9c757eb72-b1/s540x810/25fbf48c3d949622d14fbdf0e41d376595295af2.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f498fa143679a83e0523d831011743ba/c66b2da9c757eb72-21/s540x810/798d51134a02d0a374934f935c16051d9e0f931b.jpg)
#descendants#disney descendants#disney#descendants rise of red#morgie le fay#rise of red#descendants morgie#morgie descendants#morgana le fay#morgana la fey#ooc#ooc post#bbc merlin#katie mcgrath#what has katie been up to since supergirl ended??
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just sittin there thinking about thw fact that merlin and arthur were just teens/young adults (18&20 yr) that never really had any romantic experience and probablly just assumed whatever was going on between them was just platonic and even if they did realise it was something more they couldnt do anything about it bc of merlin's destiny and arthur's responsabilities and how arthur was gonna marry a princess from another kingdom only for political advantages and not love and how it always was some unspoken thing even tho they both probablly knew and how after 10 yrs nothing had changed between them and arthur died without either of them saying anything and how terrible merlin must have felt after his death
#THEY WERE KIDS#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#your honor they are in love#listening to sad love songs at 1am?#yes#what is wrong with me#merthur#merlin bbc#bbc merlin#merlin#arthur pendragon#imthinking about them again :((#also side note but “did i mention” from the descendants movie is a bop#no seriously#its great
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Descendants James Hook x Reader: Insecure Reflections
Request: Can you please do one where the reader is dating James and is Bridget's sister and he gets jealous when she starts to hang out with Morgie. So James thinks that she is cheating on him and goes to Bridget to ask her what is going on with her sister.
Reader: Female
Word count: 4484
Average reading time: 16 min 20 sec
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.
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Among the grand halls and ancient towers of Merlin Academy, students learn to master their powers, navigate alliances, and discover who they truly were. It was a world where friendships were forged, rivalries blossomed, and most importantly love found its way even in the most unexpected places.
Y/n, the younger princess of Hearts, was one such student. Her dorm room, tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the academy, was her sanctuary. It was a space filled with different shades of pink, white, and gold decor, a reflection of her royal lineage, yet softened by personal touches that made it uniquely hers. A small heart-shaped window overlooked the lush academy gardens, and her desk was littered with half-finished letters and books of spells.
It was in this room that she often found herself daydreaming about James Hook, the pirate who had stolen her heart. They had been together for nearly a year now, their romance the kind that others whispered about in the halls. Y/n couldn't help but smile at the thought of him, his teasing smirk, the way he always called her nicknames in that irresistible accent of his.
But as much as she loved him, she couldn't deny that their relationship had its challenges, like the time it took for her to get close to his friends. James, Uliana, Morgie, Maleficent and Hades were a tight-knit group, and it had taken some effort for Y/n to break through the guarded exteriors of his friends.
Now, things were different. She got closer to them and had found a close friend in Morgie, who shared her love of adventure and often teased her about how hopelessly in love she was with James. It was all in good fun, but Y/n couldn't help but notice the way James's eyes darkened every time Morgie made one of his jokes.
-----
It had been a long day of classes, and Y/n was sitting on her bed, flipping through her spellbook, while being lost in thought, reminiscing about the moments she had shared with James. Her mind drifted back to the time he had surprised her with a moonlit picnic by the sea, the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore as he pulled her close, his hook resting lightly on her waist. She remembered how his deep, smooth voice had sent shivers down her spine as he whispered stories of his adventures, his eyes always fixed on hers with that intense gaze that made her feel like the only person in the world.
She smiled to herself, recalling the way his fingers had brushed against hers when he handed her a flower he had found, an almost bashful expression on his face as he confessed it reminded him of her, delicate yet strong. Those quiet moments, where the world seemed to fade away and it was just the two of them, had become the highlight of her days. Every touch, every stolen kiss had streghtend the bond between them, making her feel a warmth she had never known before.
Just as Y/n was about to lose herself in another memory of James, the soft knock at her door snapped her back to the present.
"Come in!" Y/n called, her voice light and carefree as she glanced up from her spellbook. She expected the familiar face of her sister Bridget, her boyfriend James, or maybe Ella, Bridget’s roommate and close friend. But when the door swung open, it was Morgie who stepped into the room, his mischievous grin already lighting up his face.
"Hey, Y/n," he greeted, his tone as casual as ever, though his eyes sparkled with his usual mischief. He walked into the room with the kind of confidence that only Morgie could pull off, plopping down on the armchair across from her. "Busy with daydreaming about your pirate prince?"
Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips. Just the mention of James was enough to make her heart flutter. "Maybe... Anyways, what's up?"
Morgie stretched out, his long legs draped lazily over the armrest as if he owned the place. "Just thought I'd check in on you, see how the lovebirds are doing. You're practically glowing, you know."
Y/n felt her cheeks warm at his words, her mind immediately flooding with images of James, his intense gaze, the way his voice sent shivers down her spine, the gentle touch of his hand as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Am I?" she teased, though she couldn’t deny the truth in his observation. There was something about James that made her feel alive, more herself than she had ever been. And yet, the depth of her feelings for him made her shy, almost hesitant to speak them aloud, even to someone as familiar as Morgie.
Morgie grinned, clearly sensing her bashfulness. "Yeah, you are. And don’t even try to deny it. It’s written all over your face." He paused, his grin widening. "What about you? Trying to avoid Hades’s wrath after the prank you pulled last week?"
Morgie laughed, the sound echoing through the room like a melody. "Oh, come on, he deserved it! And besides, I think he's secretly proud of me. But we're not talking about me." he said, shifting the focus back to Y/n. "We're talking about you and James. He's got it bad for you, you know?"
Y/n’s blush deepened, her thoughts once again drifting to James, the way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world, the way his voice softened whenever he spoke her name. "I guess you could say that." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "We just… fit, you know?"
Morgie leaned forward, waggling his eyebrows in exaggerated amusement. "Fit like a hand in a hook, huh?"
Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him in mock annoyance. "You're impossible!"
The banter between them flowed easily, filling the room with lightheartedness, and for a moment, Y/n was able to push aside the shyness that always crept in when she thought about her feelings for James. But as they continued to talk, neither of them noticed the door slowly creaking open behind them.
James stood in the doorway, his tall figure framed by the dim light from the hallway. His dark eyes immediately took in the scene before him, Morgie sprawled comfortably in Y/n’s room, making her laugh, making her blush. A sharp pang of something unwelcome twisted in his chest. He knew she loved him, he could see it in the way her eyes softened whenever they were together, in the way her hand lingered in his, as if she never wanted to let go. But seeing Morgie with her, hearing her laugh at his teasing, brought a surge of jealousy he couldn’t quite suppress.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, or even Morgie for that matter. But Y/n meant everything to him, and the mere thought of anyone else making her smile the way he did unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
-----
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned a deep shade of indigo, James returned to his dorm room. The familiar space he shared with Morgie and Hades felt different tonight, smaller, more suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on him. Normally, their room was a place to rest, a place where they could be themselves, free from the expectations and judgments of the outside world. But tonight, every shadow seemed to loom larger, every creak of the floorboards seemed louder.
Morgie was already there, sprawled out on his bed, lazily flipping through a comic book. He looked up as James entered, immediately sensing the tension in his friend's posture. James’s usual confidence was absent, replaced by a tautness in his shoulders and a brooding intensity in his eyes that Morgie rarely saw.
"Hey, James. Everything alright?" Morgie asked, his tone casual, but his sharp eyes missing nothing. He knew James well enough to recognize when something was eating at him.
James didn’t answer right away. He tossed his leather jacket onto a chair, the movement almost aggressive, and sat on the edge of his bed, his back to Morgie. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, a habit that always betrayed his inner conflict. "Just thinking." he muttered, though his voice was tight, strained.
Morgie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He had seen James in all sorts of moods, angry, cocky, even vulnerable, but this was different. "About Y/n?" he guessed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t resist a little teasing, though he had a feeling this wasn’t the time for it.
James shot him a look over his shoulder, one that was sharp enough to cut. Morgie’s smirk faded, and he sat up a little straighter, realizing that whatever was bothering James wasn’t something to joke about.
"I saw you two together earlier." James said slowly, his voice measured, as if he was trying to keep it from breaking. "You seem awfully close."
Morgie blinked, taken aback. The implication behind James’s words hit him like a slap to the face. He had known James for a long time, long enough to understand that jealousy wasn’t something he succumbed to easily. But the way James was looking at him now, with a mix of hurt and suspicion, made Morgie’s stomach twist. "Whoa, wait a minute. You think… you think there's something going on between me and Y/n?"
James didn’t respond immediately, which only made the silence between them more oppressive. Morgie felt a surge of frustration, mingled with disbelief. He had grown to view Y/n as a sister, nothing more. The idea that James could think otherwise was almost insulting.
"James, seriously?" Morgie’s voice was laced with exasperation. "Y/n’s like a sister to me, you know that. Besides, she’s head over heels for you. Anyone with eyes can see that."
James wanted to believe him, truly he did. He knew Y/n cared about him, her eyes lit up whenever they were together, and her touch was always tender, filled with unspoken affection. But the image of Morgie making her laugh, of her blushing at something he said, gnawed at him, a dark cloud of doubt that he couldn’t shake. The thought of anyone else, even Morgie, bringing that look to her face, filled him with a possessiveness he didn’t know he was capable of.
Instead of responding, James simply stood up, his movements abrupt. He grabbed his jacket, the tension in his body clear, and without another word, stormed out of the dorm room. Morgie called after him, his voice tinged with concern, but James didn’t look back.
Before he knew it, James found himself standing in front of Bridget's dorm room, his hand hovering over the door. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here, but something in him needed answers. Maybe Y/n’s sister might know what was going on, or at least help him make sense of the storm of emotions raging inside him.
He hesitated for a moment, questioning whether he should even be here, but the growing jealousy wouldn’t let him walk away. With a deep breath, he knocked on the door, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts of Y/n and what he might learn once the door opened.
After a moment, Bridget opened the door, her warm smile fading slightly as she saw the worry etched on his face.
“James.” she greeted, stepping aside to let him in. “Is everything alright?”
James hesitated before stepping inside, the room cozy and welcoming, much like its occupants. “I need to talk to you about Y/n.” he said, his voice tense.
Bridget motioned for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs near the window. She sat across from him, her expression filled with concern. “What’s on your mind?”
James ran a hand through his dark hair, struggling to find the right words. “It’s about Morgie. Y/n’s been spending a lot of time with him lately, and… I can’t help but feel like there might be something going on between them.”
Bridget raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from concern to something more akin to amusement. “You think Y/n is interested in Morgie?”
James shrugged, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know. It’s just… they seem close, and I can’t shake the feeling that she might be slipping away from me.”
Bridget sighed, leaning back in her chair. “James, Y/n loves you. You know that, right?”
“I do.” James replied, his voice softening. “But what if… what if she’s realizing that Morgie is better for her? He’s fun, and they get along so well. What if I’m not enough?”
Bridget’s expression softened as she leaned forward, her tone gentle. “James, listen to me. Y/n has always been my little sister, and I know her better than anyone. She’s crazy about you. Morgie is just a friend, nothing more. They’re comfortable around each other because they’re friends, but that’s all there is to it.”
James nodded, though the worry still lingered in his eyes. “I want to believe that, Bridget. I really do. But it’s hard when I see them together, and it feels like they have this connection that maybe… I don’t.”
Bridget reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “James, the connection you have with Y/n is special. She chose you, and she chooses you every day. But you need to trust her. Don’t let your insecurities ruin something beautiful.”
James let out a long breath, the tension slowly leaving his body. Bridget’s words were reassuring, and deep down, he knew she was right. “You’re right. I’ve been a fool.”
Bridget smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Just talk to her, James. She loves you, and she deserves to know how you’re feeling. And if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Bridget.” James said sincerely, standing up. “I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” Bridget replied with a warm smile. “Now go to her. I’m sure she’s wondering why you have not visited her today.”
James hesitated at the door, his hand still on the knob. There was a sense of relief in Bridget's words, but something inside him wasn't completely settled. He turned back to face her, an uncertain look in his eyes.
"Bridget." he began, his voice soft yet urgent, "what if... what if it's not just me? What if there's something I'm missing, something about the future that I don't know?"
Bridget regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Are you asking if you’re missing a sign or if fate has something else in store for you and Y/n?"
James nodded, struggling to articulate the swirl of emotions within him. "I just feel like I need to know for sure. I can't shake this feeling, and it’s eating me alive."
Bridget sighed and stood up, moving toward a small wooden box on her bookshelf. "You know." she said quietly, "there’s a way to see the future, or at least get a glimpse of it. But it's not something to be taken lightly."
James’s heart skipped a beat. He had heard rumors about Bridget's abilities, whispers in the corridors about her possessing something... otherworldly. "What do you mean?"
Bridget opened the box, revealing an antique hand mirror with an ornate, golden frame. The glass had a strange, ethereal quality to it, almost as if it were alive, reflecting not just the present but something more.
"This," Bridget said, holding the mirror delicately, "is a looking glass that shows possible futures. It’s not definitive, what you see is just one of many possibilities, shaped by your actions and choices. But it might give you some clarity."
James stared at the mirror, his curiosity battling with a sense of apprehension. "How does it work?"
Bridget smiled softly, sensing his hesitation. "You need to focus on the question you want answered. The mirror will show you a vision, but remember, it’s only a possibility, not a certainty."
James swallowed hard, his mind racing. Did he really want to see what the future held? What if the vision only made things worse?
But before he could second-guess himself, he found himself reaching for the mirror. Bridget handed it to him gently, her gaze serious. "Be careful, James. What you see might not be what you expect."
James nodded, his grip tightening around the handle of the mirror. He took a deep breath, staring into the glass, focusing on the question that had haunted him for days.
'Will Y/n leave me for Morgie?'
The mirror's surface began to shimmer, swirling with mist that gradually parted to reveal a scene. James watched as the fog cleared, revealing himself and Y/n standing by a lake. They were older, perhaps a few years from now. Y/n’s smile was as bright as ever, her hand intertwined with his. They were laughing, a carefree sound that made James's heart swell.
But then, the scene shifted. Morgie appeared, walking toward them with a grin on his face. Y/n’s smile didn’t fade, but James noticed something else, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes as she looked between him and Morgie. She said something to James, and though the vision was silent, he could see the sadness in her expression as she spoke. James’s heart sank as he saw himself pull away slightly, his own face clouded with doubt.
Then, the vision changed again. This time, it was a different future. Y/n was sitting alone by the same lake, her face lined with sorrow. James wasn’t there, nor was Morgie. She looked lost, as if searching for something, or someone who wasn’t coming back.
James’s breath caught in his throat. The mirror’s images continued to flicker between the two futures, one where they were together, happy but with underlying tension, and another where Y/n seemed to be mourning a loss, alone.
Finally, the mirror went dark, its surface stilling as if nothing had happened. James blinked, the weight of what he had seen crashing down on him.
Bridget gently took the mirror from his hands, placing it back in its box. "The future isn’t set in stone, James." she said softly. "What you saw… it could happen, but it doesn’t have to. The choices you make now, how you handle your fears and insecurities, they’ll shape what comes next."
James nodded numbly, the images still vivid in his mind. "So, if I don’t confront this, if I don’t trust her…"
Bridget’s eyes were filled with understanding. "You could lose her. Not because she wants to be with Morgie, but because your fears might drive a wedge between you. But if you talk to her, if you’re honest about how you feel… you can build a future together, one without regret."
James stood there for a moment, letting her words sink in. The future wasn’t fixed, he still had a chance to change it. With newfound confidence, he nodded and headed for the door.
"I need to talk to her." he said firmly, more to himself than to Bridget.
"Good." Bridget replied, her smile returning. "Remember James love is about trust, not just passion. Trust her, and she’ll trust you."
As James left Bridget’s room, he felt a sense of clarity. The path ahead was uncertain, but he knew what he needed to do. Tomorrow, he would speak to Y/n, not as the worried boyfriend, but as someone who trusted her completely, determined to build a future together, one that the looking glass hadn’t shown him yet.
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That same night, after everyone had gone to bed, James found himself wide awake, his thoughts a relentless swirl of emotions. The dorm room, usually so calming, felt stifling, too quiet, too full of the lingering echoes of his doubts. He couldn't bear it anymore, not when his heart was pulling him elsewhere. Before he knew it, he was out of bed, slipping into his clothes, and heading down the dimly lit corridors of Merlin Academy. His feet moved almost instinctively, guiding him to the one place where he knew he could find peace.
Y/n's dorm.
The moonlight filtered through the tall, arched windows as he walked, casting soft shadows on the stone floors. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the uncertainty he had allowed to make its way in his head, but also of the clarity that had finally started to form. When he reached her door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering just inches from the wood. He could turn back, wait until morning, but the thought of spending another moment in doubt was unbearable. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly, his knuckles barely brushing the door.
It creaked open after a moment, revealing Y/n, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, eyes blinking in the low light. Concern immediately replaced the drowsiness in her gaze when she saw him standing there.
"James? What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice a gentle whisper in the stillness of the night. She stepped aside to let him in, her expression a mixture of worry and affection.
James entered, and as the door clicked shut behind him, the reality of the moment settled over him. He didn’t answer right away, instead reaching out to take her hands in his, pulling her close until her body was pressed against his, their heartbeats aligning. He could feel the warmth of her, the steady rhythm of her heart, and it grounded him, anchoring him to the moment.
"I’ve been an idiot, love." he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion, a raw honesty that surprised even him.
Y/n frowned, her hands squeezing his as she pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes, searching for an explanation. "What do you mean?"
James sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if trying to gather the courage to speak. When he opened them again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely allowed himself to show. "I let myself get jealous. Over you and Morgie." he confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought… I thought maybe there was something more between you two, something I couldn’t see."
Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, but then, to his astonishment, she laughed softly. It was a gentle sound, filled with affection and a touch of amusement. She shook her head, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Oh, James. There’s nothing between us. Morgie’s just a friend, more like a brother. You’re the one I love."
Hearing those words, hearing her say it with such certainty, made the tension that had been coiled tight inside him finally unravel. It was as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest, and he could breathe freely for the first time in what felt like days. "I know, darling." he whispered, his voice full of relief and remorse. "I know that now. I’m sorry I doubted you, even for a moment."
Y/n’s smile softened, and she reached up, her hand cradling his cheek, her thumb brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw. "It’s okay." she said, her voice a soothing balm to his troubled soul. "I’m glad you told me. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, James. We’re in this together, always."
Her words, simple yet sincere, struck a chord deep within him. They summarize everything he had ever wanted, someone who saw him, truly saw him, and loved him anyway. Without hesitation, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. It was not just a kiss of love but one of deep yearning and a declaration of their love. His lips roamed across hers with passion, trailing down to her neck, where he planted soft, possessive kisses that marked her as his.
Y/n’s breath hitched at the intensity of his touch, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. She felt a shiver run down her spine as his hands traveled down her body, tracing her curves with a gentle but firm insistence. Her initial shyness melted into a warm, accepting glow. There was something undeniably thrilling about the way James’s kisses spoke of his desire and need for her, and she found herself responding with equal passion, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
As James’s kisses grew more fervent, Y/n’s heart raced, but she felt utterly cherished and adored. She melted against him, allowing him to mark her with his affection, her shyness giving way to a deep, encompassing love. Each kiss, each touch, was a way to prove his devotion and a promise of his unwavering commitment.
When they finally drew apart, their breaths mingling and their foreheads resting together, James’s arms remained securely wrapped around her, as if he were afraid that letting go might shatter the fragile peace they had found.
"You’re my most important treasure, Y/n." he whispered, his voice full of conviction, each word carrying the weight of his love. "And I’m never letting you go. Not for anything, not for anyone. You’re everything to me."
Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, not of sadness, but of overwhelming love. She cupped his face with both hands now, her touch warm and reassuring. "And you’re mine, James. Always."
They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the rest of the world fading into the background. It didn’t matter that they were in a place filled with magic and uncertainty, or that the future was still a vast, unknown place. All that mattered was the love they shared, a love that was strong enough to withstand anything life threw at them.
James knew with absolute certainty that he had found his forever home. The visions from the looking glass no longer haunted him. Instead, they served as a reminder of what he had to cherish, what he had to fight for. The future was theirs to create, and he was determined to make it a happy one, filled with laughter, love, and the kind of connection that couldn’t be broken by doubt or fear.
Finally, after a moment of shared silence, James took her hand and led her towards her bed. As they settled under the soft covers, the moonlight spilling gently through the window, they felt the promise of their future together in the quiet intimacy of the night.
As James held Y/n close, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, their hearts content and their souls at ease, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart, forever and always.
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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: [email protected].
Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.
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Requested by: @midalantics12
#descendants#descendants 2#descendants 3#descendants 4#descendants rise of red#descendants the rise of red#the rise of red#james hook#james hook x reader#james hook x y/n#james hook x you#fanfic#fanfiction#y/n#x reader#disney#disney descendants#auradon#isle of the lost#james hook onsehot#oneshot#james hook imagine#imagine#merlin academy#the looking glass#queen of hearts#bridget#descendants bridget#bridget of hearts#bridget of wonderland
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I was inspired by Vetyr's art and so tried to draw something for Knight of the Dark. I do love the results! ❤️ But sadly, the final composition did not work out, so instead I will share individual pictures. 😉
Here are a few thoughts about it:
I adore the roughness of everyone's hair with this brush, especially Valen's. It suits him so well.
I am happy with how Lavi's expression turned out. Just the right mixture of desperation and defiance.
Valen ended up static on the ground, begging rather desperately to know everything and take action. Which he cannot in the end and that's one of my most favourite aspects about him in KotD, actually.
Berial's not quite as threatening as on might imagine. For him, this entire thing was out of boredom and an observation game about how mortals react. A prelude to his next target, Orson.
Merlin is way to pretty. xD
About Hogan and Lorenzis... something I realised now that I have drawn them again. And something that did bother me back when I drew for the chapters: I never liked Lorenzis in armor. And now I know why. Because he rose to his position due to his connections. I bet he never fought on the frontlines as Hogan did. Lorenzis is the man who wears not only his rank but also his (undeserved) medals for show. Hogan on the other hand, I always wondered why he, as a magistrate, would still wear his armor. And it is because he is a man of action and he will not hesitate to fight to protect. He hardly has to lift a finger and yet he still chooses to be with his soldiers rather than being perched up high behind his office desk and give orders.
#my art#afk journey#afk valen#hcs#ocs#dame lavinia#afk merlin#afk hogan#afk berial#hogan is in fact such a man of action that he even descends from the skies to help us in battle this season xD#i recommend you read the talent skill descriptions - that was such a good laugh
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I think it makes more sense that the Princes were pureblood – Snape naming himself "Half Blood Prince" indicates that he was the only half blood Prince — but half blood Princes growing on me alarmingly.. something about them not being included in the Sacred 28 because they married muggles whenever they fell in love, being into dark magic but actively against blood purism (which eventually got them killed) is so scrumptious to me. And would be refreshing from the bunch of "Pureblood Most Noble and Ancient *family name* aesthetic that people push into every single pureblood family in fanon. Also, it would tie nicely with Eileen leaving the Wizarding World: her family got targeted and killed for not supporting a rising Tom Riddle and she was scared the same would happen to her and her son unless they got out of the way
#also! it would open an interesting discussion about what is “dark magic” and “light magic” and how arbitrary the definition is#like if we had a muggle/muggleborn supporting family that used dark spells to fight DEs?#in my head theyre descendants from Merlin#but cant really prove and dont care to#muggle inclusive very smart very curious#severus snape#prince family#ill draw some concepts someday
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my favorite D:RoR characters + text posts
#descendants#descendants the rise of red#james hook#chloe charming#bridget of hearts#bridget hearts#morgie le fay#Merlin descendants#red of hearts#princess red#red descendants#ella descendants#hookheart#wonderneverland#hook x bridget
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Bridget handing out dangerous magical pastries (in an extremely public fashion); Uliana, Hook, Morgie, Hades, and Maleficent bullying Bridget and Ella (again, in an extremely public fashion); Uliana turns into a flamingo (because of the aforementioned dangerous magical pastries and bullying) and swears to destroy Bridget (in an—you guessed it—extremely public fashion).
Merlin: … Do I have enough swords charmed to kill any student that tries to steal the forbidden magic items (that already have defense charms prevent them from falling into the wrong hands) that I’m keeping in the principals office for some reason? Perhaps a sentient suit of armor will do the trick.
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Like mother. Like son. 😏💚
#morgana pendragon#morgan le fay#merlin#katie mcgrath#morgie le fay#descendants morgie#peder lindell#descendants rise of red
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Masterlist
Hiii Welcome to my blog! I will mostly write anything that you want, just please don't be weird with the requests. I don't have that many stories out yet but please send me your requests! Alsooo, if you guys want me to make a tag list, I can, just let me know!
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{~Charmed (1998)~}
{~House of the Dragon~}
{~Narnia~}
{~Supernatural~}
{~Twilight~}
#avatar x reader#bridgerton x reader#charmed x reader#cobra kai x reader#criminal minds x reader#dc x reader#batfam x reader#descendants x reader#demon slayer x reader#doctor who x reader#hotd x reader#got x reader#genshin impact x reader#haikyuu x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#house md x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#k-pop x reader#marvel x reader#mbav x reader#merlin x reader#narnia x reader#outer banks x reader#obx x reader#scream x reader#shameless x reader#supernatural x reader#stranger things x reader#twd x reader
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hi hi 👋 you might get to this bit I was hoping to request a Morgie x Merlin's Daughter reader.
(I just recently started watching the rise of Red and I fell in love with morgie.)
reader is kind of a too powerful for her own good type of wizard and all her spells kinda rely on her to keep her emotions in check and her hair is a reflection of her emotions and feelings normally her hair could be a white kinda color but if she feels a strong emotion like joy her hair turns yellow and stuff like that. and if her emotions get too out of control her hair turns into a rainbow, then she becomes this whirlwind of destruction since her magic would be out of wack and that why uliana wants morgie to get close to her so they can use her to get revenge but he ends up falling in love instead and he feels bad about betraying her.
I don't really know how to write this out as a story since I'm not a writer but I like to tell stories and this would be a cute story if I knew how to write it but I'm leaving it to you and you have total freedom with it 🫶🫶
hi there, thanks for the req!
oml this is such a good idea, you’re really great at storytelling! (also falling in love with morgie is so real lol) I love how detailed this is too, it makes the process a whole lot smoother for me loll. I’ll make sure to add this req to my list! also, this may become a two-part fic, since it's a very nice concept and I want to do it justice :))
also, one quick question. for the ending, do you want it to end on an angsty note with morgie betraying reader, orrr do you want his guilt to cause him to go against uliana’s wishes and confess to reader with some cute comforting fluff at the end? totally up to you ☺️
thanks again for the ask!
#lilac's requests#descendants fic#descendants x reader#descendants the rise of red#descendants 4#descendants rise of red#the rise of red#rise of red#morgie#morgie le fay#descendants morgie#descendants morgie le fay#emotions#merlin#merlin's daughter#morgie x reader#morgie x y/n#morgie le fay x reader#morgie le fay x y/n#x reader#x y/n#descendants#reader insert#descendants reader insert
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