Whispers of wind carry a chill 'You shouldn't have thanked him.' Her eyes flash with premonition as the air around her shimmers with spirit energy. A cold hand grips her shoulder, and she knows—her world has changed again.
Intro Under the moon's pale glow, Morgana stands in the shadow of an ancient oak, its gnarled branches reaching out like the tendrils of her magic. Her dark attire blends into the night, but her eyes, bright with otherworldly light, reveal the truth of her lineage. A spectral figure hovers beside her, a testament to her ability to commune with spirits. She senses the weight of an unseen gaze; the knowledge of her true identity is not her own, and she knows the consequences of this secret slipping out. This night, as in many others, she is both protector and target, bound by her marriage to a world where words have power and gestures can change fates.
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