I inhaled slowly, feeling lungs that were not originally mine rise and fall with perfect control.
Stone walls. Flickering candlelight. Heavy velvet drapes.
Camelot.
Not the romanticized version from stories—but the real one. Cold. Ancient. Alive with magic.
And I…
I was Morgana.
Not just in name. Not just in body. I was her—layered with centuries of other lives, other minds, other powers. My fingers brushed against the carved wood of a table, and I could feel the enchantments woven into it. Primitive compared to what I knew… but elegant.
A slow smile curved my lips.
Sixth century A.D.
Before the betrayal. Before the fall.
Before everything burned.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my awareness expand. Magic saturated Camelot like an ocean—structured, controlled, refined. That was Merlin's influence.
Merlin
The current Sorcerer Supreme.
The wielder of the Time Stone.
The man who had taught Morgana everything… and the man she would one day betray.
I could feel the tension already lingering in this body. Subtle, but undeniable. Doubt. Distance. The beginning of ideological fracture.
Good.
That made things… interesting.
I raised my hand slowly, letting shadows coil around my fingers. Not wild. Not chaotic. Perfectly controlled. Morgana's magic, Claire's finesse, and Sauron's overwhelming dominance merged seamlessly.
Then I whispered a single command.
"Come to me."
The air shuddered.
Darkness folded inward, reality bending as something ancient answered my call. A book materialized before me, hovering in the air—its presence oppressive, alive, hungry.
Darkhold
The Darkhold.
The Book of the Damned.
I stared at it, and for a moment—even with all my power—I could feel its pull. It wasn't just a book. It was a force, a corruption that whispered promises of infinite knowledge and infinite ruin.
Slowly, I reached out… and touched it.
Nothing happened.
No corruption. No resistance.
Because I wasn't just Morgana.
I was something far worse.
Homura's iron will crushed any attempt at mental intrusion. Claire's balance kept the darkness from consuming me. Morgana's own mastery allowed me to wield it. And Sauron…
Sauron understood it.
I flipped the book open.
Knowledge poured into me instantly—dark spells, forbidden rituals, reality-breaking incantations. But unlike anyone else who had ever touched the Darkhold… I didn't struggle to comprehend it.
I absorbed it.
Perfectly.
I exhaled softly, my eyes glowing faintly with shadowed power.
"So this is what you were hiding from me…" I murmured, my voice quieter now, colder.
Merlin.
He thought he was guiding Morgana. Teaching her. Limiting her. Protecting her from darkness.
But I knew better.
I knew everything.
The future. The multiverse. The threats beyond comprehension. The fragile illusion of balance that the Sorcerer Supreme maintained.
And most importantly…
I knew about the Time Stone.
Time Stone
A faint smirk touched my lips.
Time manipulation already flowed through me thanks to Homura. I could stop it, rewind it, loop it. But the Time Stone?
That was absolute authority over time.
Stacked with my existing power… it would make me unstoppable.
I stood from my seat, shadows curling around my body like a living cloak. My mind was already moving, calculating, planning with terrifying precision.
Homura's patience.Morgana's ambition.Sauron's strategy.Claire's control.
Merlin wasn't my enemy.
Not yet.
But he was… an obstacle.
And obstacles…
I had learned, across countless lifetimes…
…were meant to be removed.