The Director

Polished wood floors laden with all manner of plant life stretched through a high-rise office. Babbling waterfall pieces were fixed to walls painted a deep green. It was calming, serene even, save for the woman looking out over the city through a curtain wall. She wore a black, sharply tailored business skirt and blouse. Her dark hair was cut at a downward angle above her shoulders and thin, rectangle glasses covered scathing, green eyes. An ember flared at the end of the cigarette between her lips. She exhaled, sending smoke rolling over the glass as she glared out at the roof of a building in the distance. It was the tallest building in the city, other than the one she currently occupied.

“Have you lost your manners as well as your mind, old man?” she sneered, taking another drag.

A large, rather grey and rugged looking man approached from the shadowed corner of the room, wearing baggy, black jeans and a hooded shirt.

With a spark of green light, the woman put out her cigarette, tossing it into the waste bin at her side. “At the very least, you could have dressed more appropriately. I can’t be seen entertaining rabble off the streets. I do have an image to maintain.”

“Yes, my lady. You are quite adept at appearances,” the man spoke in a low, gravelly voice, “You are fortunate the only damage you incurred was a few broken windows.”

She sighed. “The windows are nothing. Getting that mess on the lobby floor fixed without magic will cost a fortune. That marble was imported all the way from Gavencia.”

“Can’t risk them spotting you work from the streets, I take it?” The man chuckled derisively. “If only your adoring public knew what you were.”

“It’s been too long, this farce,” the woman droned, “So many names I’ve cast aside, handing the company down, generation after generation, altering my appearance ever so slightly every time. Even if the populace somehow accepted us for what we are, they would never forgive my deceit.”

“The people are not as closed-hearted as you would like to think, my lady. Perhaps if you took a page out of their book instead of trying to rid yourselves of them with these ridiculous schemes of yours.”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, “My plan was flawless. A few drops of Ashwagandha in the morning coffee to heighten emotions and a glamour to pose as the office gossip. If dear Officer Jones would have just died properly in that explosion, our hot-headed witch would have taken care of the doctor, and two birds would have been snuffed out like that.” She spared him a glance over the shoulder. “No offense.”

“Although now you have a much bigger problem on your hands,” the man jeered, ignoring her remark.

“We have a problem. Especially if that thing shows its face again. Thank the gods it didn’t stick around, or we could both be ash in the wind,” she hissed, lighting another cigarette, “Your protégée’s power, however, is becoming an issue. I must say, when this... experiment of yours started all those years ago, I couldn’t understand what you saw in such a meek child. And the way he followed the prince around like a shy puppy.” She rolled her eyes. “Who would have thought seventeen hundred years could turn gentle, lovesick Morgan into such a force of nature?”

The man laughed, louder and more sinister this time. “Still failing to trust my judgment. I suppose the restrictions you’ve placed on his access to Avalon will be tightened. If you fear you cannot keep up, that is.”

“They have been tightened!” she hissed, “You and I both know what the true power of an ancient looks like. I’m doing everything in my power to ensure that Morgan is kept in check, but every single time I strengthen the chains around him, he pushes himself further. Avalon stillprefers him, after all these years! At this rate I’m only making him stronger! And don’t even get me started on this wretched bond of theirs!”

The man nodded beneath his hood, a grin spreading over his weathered face. “The fae-touched, bound to one born of magic. It is certainly something she would never have been able to achieve.”

“Oh.” The woman’s tone took an interested pitch. “Is that why you did it? No, that couldn’t have been your endgame. You couldn’t possibly have predicted him finding his way into Avalon, befriending the fae and the Well like he did. Or that Arthur would lose his gods-damned mind over him.”

The man said nothing, his smirk lingering.

The woman sighed. “You really would be wise to work with me on this. Our goals are the same, you and I. Yet you insist on keeping your secrets. Having your rendezvous with the very person that threatens to unravel everything we’ve worked for. He still believes you’re dead, I hope? If he suspects, even for a moment that you’ve been watching him this entire time…”

The smile faded from the man’s face. “I left him none the wiser.”

“Good. Keep it that way,” she sneered, “If he starts digging before we’re fully prepared, there will be all hells to pay. I can’t do this over again. I won’t.”

“I trust the data you collected from the wastes was of use?”

“It had better be, with what it took to get.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the building she’d been eyeing. “Look at them. They think they get to live out their happy little lives now. You know he actually went and told the witches his true name? My contact confirmed it, though now it seems I’ll have to extract him and his accomplices. The rest of the witches are wrapped around their fingers now. They simply adore Morgan and his common paramour.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

The woman laughed. “Jealousy? Is that why you’re here? To be lifted up by the people? To make friends?” She turned to him. “I’m here to fix this mess. As are you.Now that Morgan has invoked the very thing we’re trying to contain, I suspect our time grows even shorter. My efforts to garner his cooperation have been met with nothing but hostility. He insists on playing the wild card.”

“Given your past relationship with him and your more recent… efforts, I wouldn’t expect much in the way of camaraderie, should he learn of your presence here.” The man leered at her. “You engineered a scenario to keep a close eye on Arthur from the moment you learned that Morgan’s forbidden magic took effect. You forced him into your watch under your doctor by arranging the accident that took his mother from him. You deemed it best to be rid of him, and when your employee refused to do your dirty work, you created a monster. Tampering with the void to bring that insatiable fool here.”

The woman blew more smoke onto the window. “You know as well as I that Arthur has no business existing in this time. Neither do his meddling, redheaded friend, nor his knights. Morgan would never have managed it if not for the damage already inflicted on this world. Their very presence here is a threat. I’m simply trying to restore balance.”

“Yet for all your efforts, they are now stronger than ever.” The man crossed his massive arms over his chest with a scowl. “If your trespasses come to light, do not be so careless as to think they will stand idly by.”

She shook her head, inhaling deep from her cigarette. “They pose no threat in comparison to what lurks in the darkness. Our lives. Theirs. This entire city. It’s... temporary. Wasn’t that the entire point in training him? You swore you found a way out of this purgatory when you brought him to us. It was the only reason I went along with your positively mad scheme in the first place, but all he’s done is add more stress to the paradox with his preposterous spell!”

“And sealing him away did nothing to prevent its completion,” the man groaned, “One more mistake to add to an ever-increasing list-”

“Our mistake, Merlin,” she spat, finally turning away from the window. Her eyes flared, black veins swelling beneath them as the green of her eyes was swallowed in darkness. “You and I both did that. And I would’ve preferred he remained there, but he just happened to find a way through your wards!” She shuffled some papers on her desk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might be pleased with all of this. Arthur and Morgan, back in their seats of power; beacons of hope for a dying world.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Honestly... you’ve become such a sentimental old fool.”

“As much as you have become bitter and unkind,” he chided.

“Get out.” The woman waved her hands in a shooing manner as her eyes returned to their scathing green hue. “I have a meeting and I can’t have you skulking about. Go eat some roadkill or someth-”

The man was gone.

“Nomanners,” she whispered to herself in a huff.

A cautious knock came from the door. “Madam Director, the board is ready for you.”

She gathered the files on her desk under one arm, flicked her cigarette into the trash with another flash of green and strode from the office, shutting the large wooden door emblazoned with a gold nameplate behind her.

Director Naomi Marlowe

Morgan woke with a start. Something lay heavy on his chest, weighing him down. He pushed, sending his grimoire to the ground with the ruffling of pages and a thud. His breathing settled, and he glanced around his dark room.

Aaron lay beside him, his chest rising and falling in sleep, and it filled his heart with peace. He gently threw his legs over the bed to retrieve his tome, placing it at the foot of the mattress with care so as not to disturb his boyfriend, and he padded across the carpet to relieve himself.

He muffled the flush of the toilet with a wave of his hand and walked to fetch a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down and placed the glass back on the bathroom counter. A moan came from the bedroom.

“Morgan?”

“In the bathroom, baby.”

“Hurry... I miss you.” Aaron grumbled into his pillow.

Morgan chuckled softly. They had been reunited for only two days now and couldn’t bear to be apart. He would never get enough of that man, though. He turned back to the mirror, smiling at the thought, when his heart leapt to his throat at the sight of his reflection.

Black voids pulsed in his eyes like gaping holes. Darkened veins swelled across his face and onto his neck. They continued downward, overtaking his bare chest and coiling around his arms.

“Morgan... le Fay...”his reflection spoke in a voice deeper and far more sinister than his own, “You think you can run from me? I am everywhere. I am everything. I am the day and the night. I am the air in your lungs and the blood in your veins. You belong... to me...”

“NO!” he screamed into the mirror, “I rid myself of you! I remember who I am!”

His reflection released an unhinged, evil laugh. “Rid yourself of me? You came crawling back in your despair. You begged me to return your broken king to you. You think that by your power the fabric of time gave way? You think that by your magic you traversed the edge of death to find him? You… are nothing.”

Morgan’s chest ached with the hammering of his own pulse. His skin was numb with fear. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe as the darkness crept its way through him, rooting him in place.

“My power is boundless. My reach is without end. I am owed, and I shall collect.”

“Who- are you?” Morgan panted.

“I have many names, yet none at all… I once claimed everything dear to you, and I… can do it… again.”

A blood-soaked battlefield flashed through his mind, littered with fallen soldiers.

“Ag- Agravaine?”

His reflection cackled madly. “That waste was but a tool.A sword to force your hand. I am beyond you and your kind… and all shall bend their knee.”

Images of Etna followed, towers crumbling, sending chaos into the streets below as people ran, screaming in terror.

“Never,” Morgan hissed through gritted teeth.

“You will serve your purpose in the coming days, lest all that you have... all that you cherish... and the man that you love... turn...”

“Morgan! Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare! Wake up!”

“...to ash.”

Coated in sweat and gasping for air, Morgan woke in Aarons arms.

Aaron gripped the back of his neck, eyes filled with concern. “What did you see?”

Morgan blew out a shaking breath, dropping his head into Aaron’s chest. “Something old. It felt… primal.” He met Aaron’s eyes. “And it’s angry with me.”