"What do you think happened to the original timeline?" Morgan asked, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings.

Morgan and Burn sauntered down the grand corridor of the Edensor palace.

Morgan was still in her black dress, adorned with intricate lace and subtle black jewels. Burn, on the other hand, was clad in an oversized robe that did a good job of hiding his injuries and thinner build.

Burn furrowed his eyebrows, a look that typically signaled his confusion or irritation. It was the former this time. "The time before you cursed me?"

"Yes," Morgan nodded, her affirmation coinciding with the occasional soft clinking of Morgan's dress adornments and the rustle of Burn's oversized robe. "What do you think happened after I killed myself?"

"Nothing happened," Burn said, his voice echoing the nothingness he spoke of.

"Nothing happened, yes," Morgan agreed, nodding twice for emphasis. "The world looped back to three years prior. To the exact point in time I had chosen, before you started the war."

It wasn't that the timeline continued on its own without Burn and Morgan. It didn't disappear or discontinue like a forgotten tale. That timeline simply became the past, and this timeline became the present.

"I bent time. I forced time to run in a circle," Morgan stated.

"Caliburn, I didn't curse you, I cursed time," Morgan clarified. "I did it under your name."

She had screamed his name before sacrificing herself.

Burn was never the target of her revenge. He was simply a tool she used to rewrite time—a suitable, fitting tool.

"My soul is infinite, so it isn't difficult for me to sustain a few loops without killing my mortal body,” she said. "I, for one, could sustain ten more loops if you continued to be so stubborn."

"A three-year loop?" Burn asked.

"If it was less than three years, I'd be able to sustain even more," Morgan explained, her tone as casual as one discussing the weather.

"And if you can't?" Burn raised his eyebrows, a silent challenge etched into his features, "What will happen if you die?"

"Only my mortal body will die, my soul will still hang around," Morgan said, her words as light as a feather but carrying the weight of eternity.

She was… an actual immortal being.

So, the act of sacrificing her mortal body could trigger the time loop, and if the body at the start of the loop died because her soul couldn’t sustain it anymore, her soul would... huh?

"Pfft..." Morgan giggled, the sound echoing down the corridor like a playful ghost. "Don't think too much about what would happen to me when my mortal body dies. The loop will still happen nonetheless."

Morgan's mortal body took one for the team, so to speak, because her soul energy dissipated after footing the hefty bill for the time loops. But she regained her soul energy through her experienced Vision art training and the nature of her infinite soul.

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“I think it might be my lungs? The organ that failed the last time…?” Morgan mused, remembering that she lost her breathing at the time. “It could be my heart next time, or my brain. Or perhaps even a slow and painful killer, like my kidneys or liver…”

“Come to think of it, how did you recover so quickly this time?” Burn asked, his curiosity peeked its head out.

“Well, I didn’t squander the Force energy you bestowed upon me like a prodigal child," Morgan retorted. "I might not be the poster child for Force art, but your Force is strong and pure, I’d manage if you give me a little bit of time—ah!”

And just like that, she tripped and fell.

Burn couldn’t stifle his grin, the sight of Momo's stumble teasing a smirk onto his usually stoic face. Ah, muscle atrophy, her unwelcome companion, had made its appearance again.

Momo, of course, slowly picked herself up. Her legs wobbled a bit, like a newborn fawn trying to find its footing. From a Force user's perspective, she handled the fall like a seasoned professional.

Yet, there was a certain charm in seeing this formidable Vision user in a state of temporary helplessness. Like watching an eagle walk instead of fly, it was a spectacle indeed.

"Why don't you ask for more kisses? Aren't you tired of being so weak?" Burn sighed, grabbing her arms to steady her.

"Do I look like someone who would beg a dying man for his Force?" she shot back.

"Yesterday, you did," the man reminded her.

"Huh?" Momo tilted her head, a picture of innocence. She whispered under her breath, "Oh... you didn't notice..."

"Notice?" Burn blinked in a frown.

"Didn't I tell you..." Momo tilted her head, and suddenly, a smile bloomed on her face. A radiant, beaming smile that made Burn narrow his eyes, like sunlight breaking through a stormy cloud. "...nothing."

"What?" Burn demanded, his voice echoing down the corridor. But the witch maintained her elegant silence, latching her arms onto his as they resumed their journey through the palace's veins.

What the fuck was that kiss, then?

"Anyways, if you die, you'll be the one who pays for the loops, so~!" Momo declared, pulling a locket necklace from her dress pocket with the casual flair of a magician revealing their final trick. "I prepared this for you."

Burn accepted the necklace, his fingers closing around the locket, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of Momo's words.

With a gentle push of his thumb, he opened it. Inside, a small painting of the woman beside him smiled back. The painting and the locket itself looked a little worn, like a beloved book read one too many times.

Yet, something about it stirred a sense of familiarity in Burn.

"This looks like…" his own painting.

"See? Even my face is in it. If you wear this, even if you die, I'll still be the one who'll pay for the loop," Momo said. "Don't be afraid of bringing it to deadly battles, I've enchanted it to be indestructible too."

Indeed, the style of the painting bore a striking resemblance to his own, but it was too... tender, like a lullaby compared to his customary battle cry.

Burn was a warrior, and his brush strokes carried the weight of a thousand wars, a potency that was conspicuously absent in this delicate depiction.

Contrasting the two, he was unsure which image was a more faithful rendition of the beauty that was Morgan.

No, wait.

Burn had painted the future Morgan. He painted the woman who had lost everything. This painting, though... in this one, Morgan was...

Momo.

Hmm...

How to put this?

It was as if this Morgan and that Morgan were two completely different people. This painting was more Momo than Morgan, like comparing a morning's gentle dew to an afternoon storm.

Upon reaching the grand entrance of the palace, they were greeted by a motley crew of individuals. They spanned across various ages, some teetering on the brink of old age, while others were just beginning their journey into adolescence.

These weren't just any random folks. They were the male descendants of the Elysian royal family.

The moment they spotted Momo, ambling towards them with her characteristic grace, their faces lit up. And then, in a chorus that would put any choir to shame, they hailed her—"Fairy Godmother!"

Right.

The name Morgan Le Fay wasn't something that just popped up out of nowhere. It had roots that went back some hundred years or so. Very few knew that it had originated from these persecuted princes from a time long, long ago, fondly addressing her as their 'Fairy'.