I opened my eyes and realized… the castle was no longer just my throne, my stronghold, my sanctuary.
It had become my prison.
Every corridor, every hall, every towering spire—bound by Merlin's magic, sealed with power older than kingdoms, older than time itself. No matter where I turned, no matter how I tried to escape, I was trapped. My own castle had betrayed me, becoming the cage for my immortal self.
The irony was delicious in its cruelty.
I could not die. Not of old age, not of disease, not even of despair. My immortality was absolute. Yet here I was, rendered useless by a spell more intricate than any I had ever faced. A spell that bound me to my own castle, forbidding me from stepping outside its walls.
I tried shadow magic first. Of course. After all, shadows belonged to me—they were mine to command, mine to twist, mine to escape through. I could enter the Shadow Room, a pocket dimension of darkness and infinite pathways.
But every time I attempted to leave, to teleport, to twist through dimensions and flee… I was spat back into the castle.
Every single time.
Merlin's control was absolute. And brilliant.
I considered the options. And there weren't many.
As long as Merlin lived, this seal was nearly impossible to break. He would watch me. Guard me. Ensure I remained imprisoned. But I was not helpless. I had centuries ahead of me—literally. And immortality wasn't a curse here; it was a weapon, a tool of patience.
I began to strategize.
Changelings. Angor Rot. My Death Knights. My loyal followers, my army of the undead. They could attempt to breach Merlin's watch, attempt to free me—but I had to be clever.
Angor Rot, bound to the Inferna Copula, would obey me unquestioningly. I could send him, along with my changelings, to manipulate events in the physical world, to weaken Merlin's forces, to buy me opportunities. Patience, subtlety, manipulation… those were my allies now.
And then there was me.
I had lost to Merlin once, but not because of his strength alone. I had been impatient, reckless, eager to act without truly mastering all of my powers. I had relied on my raw magic and force of will, only to be outmaneuvered by centuries of wisdom, infinite patience, and mastery.
Now… I had centuries.
Time to master everything.
Shadow magic, necromancy, soul manipulation, portal creation, telekinesis, illusions, dark fire, time manipulation… every ability I had, every tool in my arsenal, every forbidden magic from other worlds—I would perfect it. I would fuse it, amplify it, master it. I would become a force even Merlin could not anticipate.
Yes. The long game.
I would wait. I would watch. I would learn. I would grow.
Merlin's life was long. Immortality did not guarantee a quick victory. But one day… one day, that man would fall, or his vigilance would weaken. And when it did… the world would finally witness the full power of Morgana—the Mistress of Shadows, the Necromancer, the Conqueror of Worlds.
I sank into the silence of my castle, letting the centuries stretch before me like black velvet.
The Eternal Prison was only the beginning.
And I would endure it.
I would thrive in it.
I would rise beyond it.
Because I had all the time in the world.