[Back to Mordred]

"No bloody way."

I stared at Guinevere as she traced her finger along the edge of one of my white daggers.

Somehow, she avoided cutting herself on the basilisk emerald-infused edge, but that wasn’t the most surprising part.

"You mean these daggers belonged to Mum?" I asked, turning to Gawain in disbelief.

He nodded with a smile. "Indeed, Red. She told me about a pair of white daggers made of Moonsilver, but this is the first time I’m seeing them."

"Morg didn't take them when she left the Shield with us," Guinevere chimed in, offering a small smile. "She entrusted them to Master Lorvar, just before he put little Dorothy in charge of the shop."

"Huh," I murmured, accepting the dagger she handed me and frowning. "Master Lorvar and Dorothy never told me about Mum."

Guinevere shrugged lightly. "Maybe they didn’t want you to know she was a Deathwalker. They had their reasons, Mordred."

"Yeah." I traced the pristine white surface of the dagger with my fingertips, lingering over the gray handle.

How many times had my mother gripped these?

"Did they have a name?" I asked, glancing back at Guinevere.

Her lips curved into a smile. "She called them her Fangs."

"Fangs," I repeated, a chuckle escaping me as I traced its green edge with my finger. "Not bad."

Gawain leaned in, inspecting the blade. "And you’ve modified them with morphium. They can transform into another weapon."

Nodding, I pulled out the second dagger, locking them together. The white Moonsilver morphed, the twin daggers merging into a sleek white sword with a green edge.

Gawain whistled as I handed him the sword.

He stood up and twirled the blade. "Well-balanced, even for me."

His green eyes glowed and the green edge of the sword glowed as well as he streamed ardor into the blade and did a thrust, releasing a gust of ardor that knocked some decorations off the fireplace.

"Oops." He winced but then grinned. "The ardor conduction’s amazing. Moonsilver is truly something else."

He handed the sword back, smiling. "You’ve got yourself quite the toy, Red."

Guinevere smiled, her tone softening. "You could take it with you when you leave next month."

"Ah, yeah. I'll be out by next month," I nodded, but my thoughts drifted elsewhere.

To Iris.

Guinevere tilted her head, catching the shift in my expression. "Are you planning to leave? Or... stay like the majority of Deathwalkers after their sentence is finished?"

I hesitated, then shook my head. "Heck no. But I don't know if I should leave now."

"Ah." She immediately understood. "It's about Iris. She has one more year left."

She kindly smiled. "You want to leave with her."

I met her gaze. "How did you figure that out?"

Guinevere looked proud. "I have my ways, Mordred."

"She asked Uncle Kay," Gawain added with a sly grin.

"Oi! Stop exposing me!" Guinevere’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

I laughed. "Impressive, Mother. You might put the intelligence division of the Phantom Knights out of business."

Her blush deepened. "Oh, shut up."

"Anyway!" she quickly changed the subject. "So you're not getting out next month?"

I shrugged, conflicted. "I don’t know. I want to stay, but Iris wants me to leave. She doesn’t want me to risk any more time here."

"Ah," Guinevere nodded. "She wants you to leave early because she cares for you. She wants you to get out of this hell as quickly as possible."

"But it’s still another year of fighting, of facing daemons alone," I muttered. "I don’t like leaving her behind."

Guinevere leaned forward, her voice gentle. "She wants you to be safe, Mordred. She’s confident in her own strength. You’ve seen her. She’ll survive this last year."

"But if you find it difficult to spend a year away from her and worrying about her safety, your decision to stay is also viable," she advised.

"In the end, it is up to you, Red," Gawain interjected with a smile.

"I agree," Guinevere leaned back. "You still have a month to make a decision. So take it slow."

"And if you do stay," she added with a smile, "you both must visit the Royal Palace after you leave the Shield. Trinity would love to meet her big brother and... future big sister."

"Mother!" My face heated up, and Gawain’s laughter filled the room.

"Awww! He looks so cute when embarrassed!" Guinevere teased.

Seeing them laugh heartily, I too couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

That's when we felt it.

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A powerful wave of energy passed over us, dark and heavy. It hit like a black cloud, and we all tensed.

"What was that?" Gawain's voice was tight. His green eyes, which were relaxed a few seconds ago are now on high alert.

"A highly concentrated ardor wave," Guinevere answered, her eyes narrowing. "But there was something else. Tenebris... It felt ominous."

Her arms wrapped around herself, a shiver coursing through her. "Like Death itself came calling."

"Tenebris?" I shot up from my seat, a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. "Iris?"

The door burst open, and Kay strode in, his face set in urgency. "Did you feel that?"

We nodded and noticed his troubled expression.

"Kay? What is wrong?" Guinevere asked.

"We have a situation, Your Majesty," he promptly answered, his gaze locking with Guinevere's.

"Minerva has lost all contact with Processing Room 12," he reported, his voice grim. "That energy wave—it came from there."

Guinevere frowned. "Processing Room 12? Isn't that one of the bigger rooms for processing new recruits?"

A sick feeling gripped my chest. "Is that where Iris went?"

The sick feeling worsened when the Commander nodded his head gravely. "Indeed. That's the place she was assigned."

"Screams were heard from that area," Minerva added, her cold voice echoing all over the room.

"Screams?" I felt my throat tighten. "Were they human?"

"No. Wraiths," she replied curtly.

The next second, I was already moving, sprinting out the door with my heart hammering in my chest.

"Please be okay, you maniac," I muttered, calling Minerva.

"Take me to Processing Room 12."

*******

"Vice Captain!"

Artemis's voice stopped me in my tracks, and I spun around. The rest of the Lunatics trailed behind her, their expressions tight with worry—except for Carlo, who was notably absent.

"Carlo called us for help!" Artemis explained breathlessly as they caught up to me.

"What did he say?" I demanded, already rushing along the corridor, following Minerva's directions.

"He's in front of Processing Room 12," Ava responded, her brow furrowed with concern. "He can't get in. He mentioned hearing screams."

"We felt the energy wave too," Apollo added with a shudder. "It was terrifying."

"Yeah, it was bone-chilling," Krystal remarked, shaking her head.

"Fuck!" I cursed loudly, quickening our pace. The startled expressions of Deathwalkers passing by barely registered in my mind.

"It seems Minerva hasn't issued an alert," Artemis observed, noting their confusion.

"She's probably preparing a response team, knowing we're heading there," I muttered as we rounded a corner.

A surge of ardor washed over us, accompanied by the faint crackle of lightning in the air.

"Everyone has their Spark Gloves?" I asked.

"Yes!" came their unified reply.

"Good. This might get ugly." I brought the Fangs into my hands, readying myself for whatever lay ahead.

As we turned another corner, we came to an abrupt halt at the sight before us.

"Carlo?"

There he stood, the young Devereux facing two damaged white doors, his chest heaving with exertion. His claymore crackled with red lightning, illuminating his tense features.

There he stood, the young Devereux facing two damaged white doors, his chest heaving with exertion. His claymore crackled with red lightning, illuminating his tense features.

"Carlo! What the hell are you doing?" I barked.

"Trying to break the damn barrier!" he shouted back, enveloping his claymore with more lightning for another blow.

His next strike sent a potent blue pulse from the doors, but they held, undamaged. The energy rippled outward, vibrating the air with force.

He gritted his teeth. "It's fucking tough!"

As we approached, the screams of the wraiths became clearer, crawling under my skin, the eerie echoes like nails on glass.

Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Iris being trapped inside the room with those abominations.

Suddenly, the screams stopped, and a heavy silence descended.

We exchanged tense glances and immediately activated our strands.

"We'll hit it together!" I commanded. Everyone nodded, preparing for a combined strike.

"That won't be necessary," Guinevere's voice cut through the air, grave and commanding.

We quickly deactivated our strands and turned to see the High Queen approaching, her serious expression matched by the rippling power that surrounded her.

The air itself seemed to respond to her presence. Gawain and Kay followed close behind, with a team of Deathwalkers and healers led by the Doc in tow.

Gawain and Kay closely followed behind her along with a few Deathwalkers and a team of healers led by the Doc.

The Lunatics, except for me, quickly bowed their heads in respect.

"Mother?" Panic crept into my voice as I looked at her. "What are you—?"

"Minerva teleported us here after we assembled a response team," she interrupted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Don't waste your power trying to break the barrier," she said with a small smile. "I will dismantle it."

She stepped forward, examining the battered doors with a steady gaze.

Her hand hovered just above the surface, and her eyes glowed as she analyzed the barrier. The power in the air shifted.

Her eyes glowed as she analyzed the barrier.

"This barrier could withstand a few strikes from an S ranker," she mused. "But it’s weak now, likely thanks to Iris and... your efforts," her gaze flicked to Carlo.

Carlo's grip tightened on his claymore, his face flushed with frustration.

Guinevere pursed her lips. "It’s a simple barrier—controlled by someone named Jeko Hess."

We exchanged confused glances.

Who is that?

Before we could question further, Guinevere shook her head, cursing under her breath.

"What the fuck, Minerva?" she muttered, "You're losing your touch."

Her eyes glowed brighter, and a wave of ardor passed over the translucent barrier.

A sound like shattering glass filled the air, and the barrier crumbled away.

"There. It’s dismantled," she said with a smile.

I stared at her in awe. She had figured out the barrier's properties, identified its controller, and broken it apart in seconds.

It was a display of absolute mastery.

"That’s the High Queen for you," Artemis whispered, unable to hide her admiration.

But Guinevere didn’t respond.

Her smile vanished, her face turning pale as her eyes widened in shock.

All of us followed her gaze and dread enveloped us.

A dark, sticky liquid was seeping out from under the doors, soaking Guinevere’s boots and spreading across the pristine white carpet.

It crept toward us like something alive, the sickly-sweet metallic scent hitting me a moment later.

The crimson pool continued to grow, turning the corridor’s sterile white into a nightmarish scene.

Blood.

Lots of blood.