Morgana VII was dressed in her robes and ready for the day when Mayta opened the door to her room. She sat at her desk reading a book about the magical properties in plants completely not bothered by the intruder. The light that streamed through the window was so weak Morgana had a lantern lit to help her see. When she heard her door open and shut softly Morgana didn’t even turn to see who was calling for her.

“Good morning, Mayta,” Morgana VII said.

“Good morning, Morgana VII,” Mayta replied. “Your hair has gotten so long, may I braid it?”

Morgana shut her book. She lifted her head up to sit still while Mayta approached her.

“What would you like to talk about, Mayta?” Morgana asked.

“Sometimes you lot are too clever,” Mayta said with a laugh and a smile. “Something concerning happened last night, so I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for your help.”

Mayta grabbed the handle of the thick black brush on Morgana’s shelf. She delicately passed it through her deep red hair as she tried to find the appropriate words to explain herself. Reincarnations were contrary on their best days and insubordinate on their worst. If there was any chance of stopping what had just begun Mayta had to present a united front with Morgana. There was no other way to quell the growing curiosity in Theocharista otherwise.

“If I am aware of one thing more than anything else, I am aware of my own limitations,” Mayta began. “There have always been the same problems for every Mayta to deal with, however time and circumstances vary, and this is the first one that only you can help me fix.”

Morgana perked up at that notion. Her head bobbing up ever so slightly then tilting to the right as she mulled the sentence over. Mayta took her renewed stillness as an opportunity to start braiding her thin hair into several large sections. After a moment of silence Morgana spoke.

“Only I can help,” she whispered harshly.

It was cruel of Mayta to word it the way she had. Cruel of her to pray on Morgana’s need to be even more outstanding than her fellow reincarnations. Cruel of her in every lifetime, and yet, it always happened. It was crueler still how well it worked.

“Theocharistas always have a voracious appetite for knowledge,” Mayta explained. “They reach as far as they can but the Keep has its own limitations. We’ve stayed here for seven turns of the wheel of fate, tucked safely away, so we can continue pursuing what our founders foresaw all those centuries ago. There has never been a Theocharista who hasn’t tried to leave. There has never been a Morgana who was unable to persuade her to stay.”

Mayta tied Morgana’s braid with a dark green ribbon. Then she knelt at the side of Morgana’s chair and grabbed her hand to plead with her.

“No matter the arguments I give my efforts will be pointless without you,” Mayta continued. “Knowledge from the library is invaluable. Knowledge from the monks at Hecate’s Temple will only cause her to stray farther. I need you to show her the way. Can you do that for me, Morgana LeFaye VII?”

In a moment of clarity Morgana's normally schooled expression cracked. Her brows knit together. Her mouth pressed tight into a thin line. Through grit teeth Morgana hissed.

“She would try and leave me?” Morgana asked.

In an instant Mayta was reminded exactly who she knelt beside. Morgana cocked her head farther to the right. She stared down her nose at Mayta and blinked so slowly that Mayta was sure she had to be focusing all of her will on it. Once Morgana’s eyes were closed a howling gust of wind shrieked by, rattling the window so hard it shook inside it’s frame. When her eyes snapped open again the wind died completely. There was a faint haze of green magic around her irises as she surveyed her caretaker.

“Worry not, dear Mayta,” Morgana said, her voice coming out in a rolling rasp. “My Theocharista will stay by my side. We were never meant to part. You may rest easy. Theocharista will stay.”

“Thank you, Morgana VII,” Mayta replied. “I knew I could rely on you.”

Mayta patted Morgana’s head and excuse herself quickly. Once she was on the other side of Morgana’s shut door she heard the wind again. Worse this time, howling like a trapped beast trying to claw its way out of a cage. It steadily got worse until Mayta was worried all the University windows might shatter. Mayta pushed her hand over her mouth, clamping down against her jaw tightly.

“What have I done?” She whispered.

Reincarnations were decades ahead of their peers in schooling. They worked the trickiest magic, honed the most powerful skills, but they were children just the same. Children who had been given everything they ever needed. Children who had been raised to rule over not just the University but the Keep and everyone in it. How was any iteration of Morgana LeFaye going to allow Theocharista to learn anything if it meant she would eventually leave?

The short answer, Mayta realized, was that she wouldn’t.

The long answer, to Mayta's horror, was that Morgana would do anything if it meant Theocharista would stay with her. 

In the same terrified run Mayta had the night before she made her way to the endless steps towards Hecate's Temple. She couldn't be too late to stop this. If Morgana destroyed the Temple it could change everything.