A spear of ice pierced through Morgana’s fiery defenses as though they were paper, impaling her stomach and leaving a gaping, bloodied hole as it evaporated.

She dropped to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth as she clutched at the fatal wound. Her body screamed with pain, coldness creeping through her veins with every passing second, but she refused to collapse. She refused to lose consciousness.

“Your defenses are still pathetically weak,” her mother’s voice echoed, high heels clicking against the polished marble floor of the visitor spire. Morgana looked up, barely clinging to awareness, at the figure of Baroness Mathilda Goldenheart. The Silverwater name long since discarded. Her mother’s gaze, as always, bore into her with the weight of cold, unfeeling judgment.

Morgana coughed violently, the metallic taste of blood overwhelming. “My… apologies… mother,” she managed between ragged, gurgled breaths.

The baroness sighed, motioning for one of the healers. A woman in a light blue uniform rushed over, green light radiating from her hands as she began mending Morgana’s torn abdomen. Warmth spread across the wound, and Morgana felt the excruciating pain dull ever so slightly. She muttered a line of calming magic, working to separate her consciousness from the pain she experienced.

“All offense and no defense will get you killed,” Mathilda said sharply, her tone laced with disappointment. “How many times must you learn this lesson tonight?” She gestured to the healer. “This is the eighth time. Eighth! And with the tournament only hours away, you cannot even withstand a basic ice spear. Pathetic.” Through tear-blurred vision, Morgana watched as her mother jabbed a finger toward her. “You may have just advanced to the second realm of your mana core, but your energy core is still weak, still bronze. Keep your distance. If you’re to kill that girl, you cannot afford such mistakes.” Mathilda’s lip curled. “That little whore… to think she’s reached the silver realm so young. Unbelievable. We will see how true the stories are, won't we? Hopefully, they are much exaggerated."

Morgana didn’t say anything - she wasn't sure her mouth could even open at the moment. So, she simply bowed her head in acknowledgment of her mother’s words.

Ever since the destruction of Silverwater territory and the death of Baron Silverwater, Mathilda had become someone unrecognizable. The once-kind mother who had doted on her children was gone, replaced by a ruthless taskmaster. That transformation had intensified upon their arrival in Goldenheart territory. Morgana shivered at the memory of their first morning there, of her mother’s chilling cruelty toward her children. She'd known her mother capable of it, seen it directed toward Lilliana before, but never Mathilda's actual children. Never her.

Mathilda was convinced Lilliana had murdered the baron. Morgana doubted it. Despite Lilliana’s remarkable transformation, the idea that a girl barely past her twelfth birthday could kill their father seemed implausible. Even if he had been particularly inept at core formation, patricide at her age? Unlikely.

Poor Brian, Morgana thought, as the healer’s magic finally closed her wound. Left behind in Goldenheart’s estate, her youngest sibling was now under the tutelage of Captain Malcove, their father’s former knight captain. She could only hope the man didn’t ruin Brian entirely. He too had shown a side unlike anything Morgana had seen before. The man was unrecognizable.

A sharp slap tore Morgana from her thoughts. She blinked, meeting her mother’s cold, disappointed gaze that crinkled the corner of her aging eyes.

“You will die if you allow your mind to wander,” Mathilda snapped. “Focus. Reflect on your failures and how to correct them. Everything else is irrelevant. Anything you think is important is not your business. I will handle everything here on out, so you focus on your duty."

Morgana nodded, forcing herself to stand as her mother hauled her to her feet.

“And do not forget your goal,” Mathilda continued, her voice hard. “Kill Lilliana and avenge your father. Your grandfather will be watching. Prove to him that you are capable. Show him you can succeed where your brothers failed. Show him that you are fit to be heir."

“I will, mother,” Morgana said, stumbling toward her discarded wand. “I failed to kill her before. I will not fail again.”

“No, you won’t,” Mathilda agreed, stepping back to create space between them. “Because this time, you will do it with your own hands. When you meet her in the tournament, you must not stop until you see the light leave her eyes.”

Morgana nodded again. She understood the tournament itself was secondary; and that her priority was to eliminate Lilliana. Beyond revenge and their father’s secrets, there was no telling what destruction Lilliana might bring to the Goldenhearts if she claimed the duchy’s power. Not with her history. Not with what she’d endured from them. From us.

She’d deserved it, Morgana thought bitterly, summoning her fire attribute magic once more. Before Lilliana, the Silverwater household had been filled with life and love. But her presence, and that of her mother, had poisoned their family. They had ruined her life, the life of her siblings, and the life of her mother. Morgana had no regrets about reporting the adultery to the royal police, leading to the whore's death. None at all.

Stolen novel; please report.

Only when Morgana could no longer stand did her mother finally end the session. Her body was battered and her mana reserves were completely depleted. Mathilda’s training had pushed her to the brink of death multiple times that night, requiring multiple emergency saves by the standby nurses. Her body ached to the point Morgana couldn't move or stand. She leaned against a wall and slumped to the ground, unmoving.

Mathilda was no ordinary opponent. Though she lacked proficiency in energy manipulation, her magical prowess was formidable enough to earn the title of Sorcerer from the Wizard Tower. Although the baroness used some type of concealment magic on her magic core, Morgana suspected her mother’s mana core was nearing the third realm. Duke Goldenheart, by comparison, was firmly in the third realm, though he was also proficient in energy manipulation, his energy core recently breaking into gold.

Does that make him the strongest duke now? Morgana thought silently, too spent to remember information on the other dukes. Doesn't matter. None of them are here anyway.

The approaching war with Cael, and perhaps even Pandoria, had spurred many of the dukes to return to their main estates, ignoring the call for Duke Alistar's mourning tournament.

“Get yourself cleaned and in bed,” her mother ordered as she left the training room. “Training resumes three hours before the tournament."

“Yes… mother,” Morgana rasped, her voice barely audible.

Pairs of soft hands reached under her arms and legs, lifting her from her limp form from the cold stones and carrying her from the training room to her quarters in one of the Silver Spire's lower floors that she'd been assigned to, where she was welcomed by a steaming tub of water. The three maids carrying her placed her in the tub as if she would break like glass from even the slightest stumble.

Despite the immensely satisfying experience of hot water on her exhausted body, the atmosphere in the room was heavy and morose. Tears streaked down Ariel’s face as she combed through Morgana’s hair. Narissa’s silent weeping echoed from a corner, while the other maids wore expressions of barely restrained rage. Morgana momentarily ignored them and let her head fall back against the wooden barrier of the tub, releasing a soft moan of pleasure as the heat encompassed her battered body and pushed life back into her soul.

“Remove those looks from your faces,” Morgana said weakly. “My mother will find out, one way or another."

“She cannot keep doing this to you,” Ariel muttered, her hands trembling as she applied a salve to Morgana’s battered shoulders and back. “You’ll break, my lady.”

“I am not so weak,” Morgana snapped, though the words lacked strength.

“No one can endure this forever,” Ariel insisted, the pressure on Morgana's back increased slightly, but enough to cause her to wince. “Not even you. Your body will give out. Raphael's did. Brian's did. No one can have their body broken and forcibly fixed on repeat like this forever.”

“Ariel, stop,” Morgana protested, sighing. “I asked her to make me stronger.”

“My lady,” Narissa interrupted, stepping forward from where she’d wept against the wall, her voice thick with emotion. “I have known you since you were a newborn babe. I have watched you grow in maturity, power, and grace. You did not need to be broken and remade back then. You don’t need to now. I know, we all know,” she gestured to the five other maids in the room, “that you will reach enormous heights known only to royalty and those chosen by the heavens.” Her voice choked. “But you will never reach those heights if your body is broken to the point where no one can fix it.”

“Enough. You know that this is not a choice. Mother will not allow me to run from this responsibility, nor do I wish to. I am Morgana Elantra Silverwater, eldest daughter of the Silverwater Barony and foremost heir to the Goldenhearts Duchy after my mother. It is both an obligation of birth, and one of choice, that I put down Lilliana Silverwater, or whatever name she goes by now. I failed to rid us of that wench's daughter before, bringing shame and ruin to my family. I must succeed here, or I will become nothing. Abandoned by all.”

Like Raphael was.

“What happens when you kill her, my lady?” Stephanie said, taking a step forward. “News of her sainthood has spread through Lysoria and Cael, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Holy Kingdom takes action at some point to either quell or spread the stories. Will the Lysorian royal family protect you from the wrath of her followers and believers? We don’t even know how many there are.”

Morgana waved the concern away. Or she tried to. The cold chill of air outside the tub ruthlessly kept her hand in the hot water. “The goddess Delilah is only worshipped by the Cael barbarians. The Holy Kingdom will not care. No one will.”

Stephanie shook her head. It seemed that any fear of retribution her six closest maids had once carried no longer existed. The only reason Morgana did not punish them for it was because their bravery stemmed from their overwhelming fear for her safety.

“My Lady knows that all religions have some roots in Lysoria. Especially when it is the worship of a border city. Regardless,” Stephanie continued, the older maid lecturing Morgana as if she were a child again, “the Holy Kingdom claims jurisdiction over all major religions. The Goddess of Light is a major Cael religion. If the Holy Kingdom steps in and you kill one of their rising saintnesses, Lysoria might end up fighting three wars at the same time. That, or the royal family would surrender you as a peace offering.”

“My family would never allow that.”

The six maids were silent this time, much to Morgana’s frustration. Their silence spoke much louder, and more harshly than their words ever could have.

Mother wouldn’t let them take me away, she thought stubbornly. But the image of Raphael’s body being carried away bloody and broken as their mother watched without so much a flicker of emotion was too recently seared into her brain. Is that her plan, then? To have me regain her honor and then discard me? No, she must have a plan. Raphael was discarded because he was weak and pathetic, a failure who withered away when he lost Father’s support. I am not that.

Morgana ducked her head into the tub's steaming water. She didn’t want to believe it, but as the days passed and her mother’s training became increasingly cold and ruthless, Morgana had to admit it was a possibility.

I’ll have to prepare for the worst case. I need to speak with Grandfather.