The Conquest of Mytheyr

The pulse bomb sent Morgan flying almost fifty yards. She was fortunate not to hit a tree and even more so that she was uninjured, just a gigantic bruise on her back that would be sore later. The blast had obliterated the dense stone golems, and Morgan hoped that it had injured Semele, preferably fatally. Though, considering the state she was in, Morgan highly doubted it.

“Raven!” she yelled, leaping to her feet.

“Over… here.” A voice wheezed, about ten yards to her right. Morgan rushed over to Raven and inspected the damage. Raven had literally been right next to the blast, and though the pulse was meant to destroy only denser materials, especially metal, Raven’s ribs had been broken, most likely from the debris of the golems and not the blast itself. But those were easy to fix. Morgan was just glad her friend’s ruby wings weren’t torn.

“Remember what I said about those grenades?” Morgan asked. Raven remembered. It was something along the lines of; you could lose one and mess up an entire world’s time line if you’re not careful, blah blah blah. “Nix all of that. Bring those fucking things everywhere.” Morgan finished, and Raven flashed her a wolf like grin.

She lifted Raven onto her shoulder, conjuring Light magic and channeling it into the bone, and it began to knit itself back together.

“Thanks,” Raven said, gasping in pain.

“Uh huh. Nightshade!” Morgan called her horse’s name in Elvish. She had no idea where their steeds had gotten to.

She didn’t expect Nightshade to shadow travel in, so she jumped when the mare appeared, stepping out of the shade of the trees. Raven cried out when she jostled her still-healing ribs.

“Fuck, sorry.” Morgan said, pouring a last bit of healing magic into her bones, “Do you think you can ride?”

“On Night, yeah.” Raven assured her. “But what about you?”

“I’m not planning on sticking around, don’t worry. I just can’t leave Caspian behind.”

“Fair enough. Birch?”

Morgan knew the place, just by the word. She nodded, and the black mare carried her friend away. She found the bay after just two minutes of searching, and was soon riding hard to catch up with Raven.

Semele pushed himself off the ground, breathing heavily. His golems, so difficult to create, lay all about in pieces, ruined. Technology… he should have been prepared for that…

Semele started to shake violently. Gone… she was gone. He teleported himself to the uppermost tower in the castle. He screamed in rage, throwing a ball of black magic into a mirror, shattering it. His screech was so loud some of the servants in the floors below him cowered, before realizing Semele wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. They hightailed it as far away from the tower as possible.

Semele rampaged around the late King’s room, destroying anything standing and crushing the fragments under his feet.

“You idiot!” he roared, his pale face turning crimson. “She was right here, in your grasp, and you let her slip through! And why? Because of an oversight! Because of a flaw in your plan! She’s gone! Far away by now! And what are you going to do about it!”

Semele stopped short in his pacing. He stood perfectly still, allowing the suddenly still silence to fill his ears. The redness faded, leaving his skin as pale and waxy as before.

“Yes… and what…and what... will you do about it?” he whispered to himself. He strode to the window and looked out. Night had fallen, and the stars provided enough light to see the entire forest, especially for one with eyes like Semele’s. A shine caught the corner of his eye. He looked, and pulled a hair off his sleeve. Too long and dark to be his. The servant girl, perhaps, but no, it was too light. Hers. Semele chuckled ominously.

“Morgan… Queen of Irideth. What will I do? I will wait. I will watch. And she… will be mine.” He twined the hair in his fingers, and began to prepare some magicks.