• The folds of the black dress billowed around her supple body as Morgana LeFay wrought great magics. With cold, unforgiving eyes she stared at the glass ball as it hovered slowly over the plinth.
    A bowl of dark water rippled beneath the orb. Morgana glanced at the bowl.
    An image shimmered on the surface of the liquid.
    A beautiful horse, black as midnight tossed its mane and galloped along an unseen landscape. The Enchantress’s lips curled slightly.
    “Lord of Night, lost of Light, grant me what I desire!” she chanted.
    The horse’s image swirled and danced as a great, chill wind burst through the chamber.
    It swept back her silvery hair, made her sleeve-netting cling to her arms as if they were painted on.
    “Moon be dire, forged in fire, fulfill your servant’s wish!” she shouted to the wind.
    The cave’s stone walls quivered and shook. The bowl of water on the plinth quaked violently, and the water within whirled.
    Morgana clenched her hands and muttered the words of power.
    The liquid wrenched out of the bowl in a coherent trail, as if it were a whip held by a demon. It swirled and shaped into a wide circle, the circle trailing arms and the arms latching onto the cave walls and floor. A faint violet glow began in the center, then spread violently across the circle until the shadows of the chamber were a bright purplish hue.
    Morgana stepped forward, against the maelstrom of air currents hurling against her. With one gnarled hand, she reached into the portal.
    The glow stopped pulsating and shrunk, as if all the energy was surrounding her hand. Then, it traveled up her arm and encased her body in a violet sheet of
    power.
    Trembling, Morgana placed both hands on either side of the orb. The portal shuddered, then the entire black mass rolled across her body and towards the orb. Nostrils spewing smoke and fumes, she remained rooted to the floor in a mighty effort to keep control.
    In a final burst of darkness, the portal shrunk vastly, slamming itself into the glass ball and embedding itself within. The orb dropped silently into the silver bowl, which wobbled slightly on its plinth before coming to rest.
    There was silence.
    Breathing hard, Morgana wrenched her gaze from the globe and turned towards the mirror, sighing with relief.
    Her lustrous hair, no longer streaked with gray, gleamed the color of wheat in the sun.
    Her light pinkish skin was taut and unwrinkled upon her bones.
    The lines under her eyes had vanished.
    Her beauty renewed, Morgana cackled quietly to herself, and the echoes bounced around the cave.
    A soft whimpering noise made her turn.
    A boy of four with handsome blonde curls and a pure white tunic was standing in the doorway. Morgana stepped towards him.
    “Mordred, my wonderful boy. What is it?” she cooed as he fell into her arms and buried his face.
    “I was having nightmares,” he whispered. “There was a bright light, and a scary old woman, and-”
    “Shhhhh,” she said, cradling her son. “Everything is alright. It was just a dream.”
    She brushed a strand of his hair out of his eyes and looked down at him.
    “Don’t worry about anything. Just go back to sleep, okay? It was just a dream.”
    The boy nodded slowly and, after embracing his mother, turned and trudged back to be.
    That boy will be king someday, she thought. And I his regent.
    Smiling, Morgana replaced the silk cloth cover for the orb and snuffed out the candles.
    Glancing again in the moonlit mirror, she wondered how long she could destroy her soul to maintain her beauty.
    How long has it been? she wondered painfully.
    Too long.
    But soon I will have my revenge!
    Sighing, she strode out of the cave.
    Somewhere in the distance, a wizened, bearded man was chuckling.
    And it was not out of nervousness . . .