Chapter 134 A Debt Between Sisters
The corridor outside Selena’s chamber breathed heat.
Hellfire pulsed through the obsidian walls in slow, restless waves, as though the fortress itself were alive and uneasy. Light bled through the cracks in the stone, stretching shadows that twitched and crawled along the floor. Somewhere far below, something screamed and was abruptly silenced.
Morgana stood before the sealed doors, unmoving.
Her posture was rigid, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Power rolled off her in quiet, controlled waves, sharp enough to sting the skin. Demons passing through the corridor lowered their eyes and quickened their steps. None dared pause. None dared test her patience.
Aradia, by contrast, looked entirely at ease.
She lounged against a pillar carved from blackened bone, arms folded loosely across her chest, one boot braced against the wall. Her gaze lingered on Morgana with open curiosity, as though she were studying a puzzle she already knew the answer to.
The silence pressed down on them thick, deliberate.
Too long.
“Standing guard like this won’t help her,” Aradia said at last. Her tone carried no urgency, only mild amusement. “Selena needs control. Training.” She shrugged. “Not two statues watching a door.”
Morgana didn’t turn.
The air beside her hand trembled.
Heat gathered, tight and coiled, until it snapped into form. Dark metal crawled out of nothing, shaped by will alone. The sword settled into her palm, its surface rippling with faint embers. The temperature in the corridor surged, flames breathing along the walls in response.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Morgana said.
Her voice was calm too calm. The kind that warned of violence held on a very short leash.
“And if I choose to train Selena,” she continued, “it won’t be with you.”
Aradia’s lips curved further.
She pushed herself off the pillar, movements unhurried, deliberate. Each step toward Morgana echoed softly against the stone.
“Still holding onto that?” she asked lightly. “The spirit of seduction.” Her gaze flicked briefly to the sword. “Such a terrible companion.”
Morgana turned.
The corridor seemed to recoil.
Her eyes burned a deep, molten red that swallowed the light around them. The shadows bent toward her feet, drawn by something ancient and unforgiving.
“You dare speak to me like this?” she asked.
Aradia tilted her head, studying her sister’s face with unsettling calm.
“Or is it about him?” she said, her voice lowering just enough to cut. “The human?”
The word struck.
Flames surged violently along Morgana’s blade, roaring to life. The floor beneath her boots split with a sharp crack, heat spiderwebbing through the stone.
“Say it again,” Morgana said, each word measured, lethal. “And I’ll cut your throat.”
Aradia’s laughter slipped out soft, breathy, almost fond.
With a flick of her wrist, pale light tore through the air. Her sword appeared in her grasp, sleek and unnaturally smooth, its edge humming with restrained darkness. She stepped closer, unflinching as heat licked at her skin.
“Can you?” she asked quietly. “Really?”
Their blades collided.
The impact exploded through the corridor, sparks screaming as metal met metal. The sound rang out, sharp and punishing, echoing into the depths of Hell. Heat and dark magic twisted together, grinding against each other in a violent stalemate.
Steel pressed against steel.
Neither sister yielded.
“I may not have your strength,” Aradia said, her voice steady despite the force straining between them. “I may not have stood beside Lucifer in war.” Her eyes locked onto Morgana’s. “But can you kill your own sister over a human I took from you?”
Morgana’s jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath her skin.
Their eyes locked rage pressed tight against amusement, grief staring down something colder, older, and far less forgiving. The air between them vibrated, charged with unspent violence.
“Do you even know why I seduced him?” Aradia asked.
The question was almost gentle.
Morgana lunged.
Her shoulder slammed forward, power surging through her frame. Aradia met it head-on, boots skidding across the scorched stone before she drove back harder. The force of the collision sent Morgana crashing into the wall. Obsidian cracked and splintered behind her, fragments raining to the floor.
They tore apart as one, instinct snapping them into readiness.
Heels dug in. Knees bent. Shoulders rolled loose. The faint outline of wings shuddered beneath their skin, invisible but restless, aching to unfurl. The corridor seemed to shrink around them, pressing closer, listening.
“You were slipping,” Aradia said.
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.
“You didn’t feel it happening, but I did.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Morgana’s throat, her pulse. “Lust softened. Desire stopped being sharp. You hesitated.”
Morgana didn’t answer.
“That human knew,” Aradia went on. “He knew what you were.”
Morgana’s fingers flexed. The heat around her dimmed, just a fraction.
“How?” The word scraped out of her.
Aradia exhaled slowly, as if weighing what to reveal.
“The master watches everything,” she said. “When you stopped attending gatherings. When you vanished for days.” Her eyes lifted. “He noticed. He sent me.”
The sword in Morgana’s hand flickered, its edges blurring then it vanished entirely, leaving only empty air. The fire in her eyes dulled, no longer blazing, but smoldering, raw and unguarded.
“I saw it,” Aradia said more quietly. “The night he found out.”
The corridor dimmed, the hellfire along the walls sinking lower, as if drawn into the memory.
“You thought he was asleep,” Aradia continued. “You changed.”
Morgana closed her eyes.
“I saw his face,” Aradia said. “First, fear.” A pause. “Then wonder.”
Her mouth twisted.
“And then hunger.”
Morgana’s breath slipped out, slow and shallow.
“I followed him after that,” Aradia said. “Watched where he went. Who he whispered to.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “A magician. Desperate. Weak.”
Morgana’s breath caught.
“He planned to sell you,” Aradia said. “Trade your power for his safety.”
The words settled like ash.
Silence pressed down hard enough to bruise.
“So I acted,” Aradia said at last. “I gave him something else to crave.” Her eyes hardened, all warmth gone. “I made him forget you. And when he loved me enough…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t have to.
Morgana opened her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
Aradia looked away just for a heartbeat. The smallest fracture in her composure.
“Because I needed you to let go,” she said. “And because hatred is safer than love for beings like us.”
Morgana swallowed, her throat tight.
“Where is he?” she asked. “His soul.”
Aradia’s smirk returned, but it was thin, brittle.
“Deep,” she said. “Far below the screaming. He’s been there for two hundred years.”
Morgana hesitated, then nodded once.
“I want to see him.”
Aradia didn’t argue.
She raised her hand.
Darkness thickened, coiling inward, dragging the air with it. Chains scraped across the stone, their sound sharp and metallic. The mist tore open, and a figure emerged.
Louis.
He was barely recognizable. Skin gray and split. Eyes hollow, sunken deep into his skull. Chains wrapped his limbs so tightly they cut into bone, holding him upright only because they would not let him fall.
The moment he saw them, terror broke across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, words tumbling over each other. “Please I was weak. I was afraid. Forgive me.” His voice shattered. “I still love you.”
Morgana said nothing.
She studied him the way one might study something already dead.
Then she smiled.
“Love?” she echoed softly.
She stepped forward. Her shadow swallowed him whole.
“Only a fool would love a human,” she said. “And only a human would believe love could save them here.”
Louis screamed as the mist surged, chains yanking him backward, dragging him into the depths until both sound and light vanished with him.
The corridor fell quiet again.
Morgana turned back toward Selena’s chamber.
Aradia watched her for a long moment then returned to her post, the smirk gone at last.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My lovely readers 🤍
This chapter was a heavy one. I wanted to peel back a layer of Morgana that she’s kept buried for so long the kind of wounds that don’t heal, only harden. Sisterhood in this world isn’t gentle, and sometimes the ones who “save” us do it in ways that leave scars we never asked for.
As you move into the next chapter, keep Selena in mind. Everything Morgana carries now every loss, every choice will shape what comes next. Not just for her, but for everyone standing in the shadow of Hell.
Thank you for staying with me through the darkness. Your support, comments, and quiet reads mean more than you know. See you in the next chapter.