Chapter 269 "The Pain of Regret"

Skyler forced the regret and sadness in his heart aside. He repeated to himself like a mantra: This woman was not Meredith; she was Morgan Le Fay!

"Mmm," Morgan's icy voice sliced through the silence.

Selwyn quivered, his whole frame trembling under the moon's stark gaze. Despite his thick black cloak, his hesitation was palpable as he hesitated to approach.

Among the shadowy figures behind Morgan, a person in the front row lifted the brim of their hat, revealing the composed features of a middle-aged woman - Mrs. Selwyn.

She was Selwyn's wife in name, but in reality, she was a spy planted by the Shadow of the Dragon within prominent pure-blood families.

Positioned at the forefront, her status within the organization was undoubtedly significant. While the group had orchestrated her marriage to Selwyn, the passage of time had woven genuine feelings between them.

She had spent countless days and nights with Selwyn, making it impossible for her not to harbor some affection for her husband.

Observing her husband's hesitation, Mrs. Selwyn couldn't fathom his inner turmoil. Despite the glaring power imbalance between the two sides, Selwyn had yet to make a move.

Witnessing Voldemort's ruthlessness firsthand had instilled a deep-seated fear within him, paralyzing his resolve and preventing him from taking action.

In a bold display of support, she called out, her voice ringing with assurance, "Travers, come here quickly! Trust me, no harm will befall you with us."

At the sound of his beloved wife's words, Selwyn seemed to find renewed strength coursing through his veins. With newfound determination, he hastened his steps, sprinting toward Morgan and Barbarossa's encampment with urgency, propelled by a mixture of fear and hope.

"Insolence!" Voldemort's voice reverberated with fury and coldness.

Betrayal stoked the flames of his wrath, and he wasted no time in unleashing a deadly Killing Curse aimed squarely at Selwyn's retreating form.

While Voldemort had come to realize the significance of manpower in his current predicament, it did not temper his intolerance for treachery committed openly before him.

The Killing Curse was a signature move of Voldemort's, unparalleled in its lethal precision and power. Indeed, in the realm of magic, none could wield the Killing Curse with the same proficiency as Voldemort, save for Death itself or its chosen heir, were they to be resurrected.

Voldemort's version of the Killing Curse was swift, accurate, and possessed such ferocious force that even Dumbledore had required the protection of a towering activated bronze statue to withstand its onslaught.

There had been some foolish individuals in the wizarding world who mistakenly believed that the Killing Curse operated on the simple principle of harvesting souls.

In their misguided attempts to circumvent its effects, they had sought to shield themselves with tiny creatures, such as Flobberworms and earthworms, thinking these insignificant lives could serve as proxies for their own. However, their efforts ended in disastrous failure—all were obliterated in the ensuing blast, along with their unwitting insect allies.

The emerald light of the Killing Curse streaked forth with the speed of lightning, mere inches from striking Selwyn's back. Yet, just as doom seemed imminent, a mysterious whisper seemed to ripple through the air, accompanied by the sudden appearance of a dark, enigmatic vortex behind Selwyn.

The vortex resembled a gaping black hole, swallowing everything in its path. The once fierce emerald light, akin to thunder and lightning, vanished into the vortex's depths the instant it touched its core.

Not a trace of the deadly curse remained; it couldn't even leave a ripple in the air surrounding the swirling void.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, the intense red glow in his pupils dimming slightly. His prized Killing Curse, the very epitome of his invincibility, had failed him twice that night. What made it worse was that both failures were linked to spatial magic of some sort.

He wasn't foolish, merely accustomed to his own strength after years of dominance. During the First Wizarding War, Dumbledore aside, there was none who could stand against him. Even Moody, the revered Auror General, couldn't last more than a handful of encounters.

But now, faced with this unexpected turn of events, Voldemort found himself questioning his approach for the first time in ages. Had his reliance on brute force left him vulnerable, exposing a weakness in his tactical repertoire?

Little did Voldemort realize that this moment of introspection would mark a significant stride in his future magical development.

Morgan's grin twisted into an eerie smile before she shifted her gaze to Skyler, her voice taking on the captivating timbre of Meredith's, "It's been a while, my dear Skyler."

Despite his stoic demeanor, Skyler's eyes betrayed a tumult of emotions he struggled to contain. Tonight's situation teetered on the edge of peril, and any lapse in focus could yield consequences too dire to fathom. Yet, Morgan's hauntingly familiar voice struck a painful chord in his heart.

"You're quite the spatial magic adept yourself," Morgan continued, her tone dripping with affection, as if addressing a cherished lover. "Tell me, how does my 'Swallowing Magic Vortex' stack up against your 'Moon Turn and Star Shift'?"

Skyler's complexion drained of color as he expelled a small spurt of blood with a hiss, his once formidable aura diminishing significantly in the wake of repeated clashes with Voldemort.

The assault on his psyche was formidable indeed.

Morgan had unleashed a charm magic more potent than that wielded by a pure-blooded Veela—an ancient sorcery derived from the lineage of the extinct Harpy Siren, wrested from the annals of Veela ancestry. Veela blood, renowned for its innate charm, lent its purest essence to this magic.

Yet, what truly rendered it formidable was Morgan's adept fusion of Legilimency—psychic magic that delved into minds and memories. By melding the attributes of charm and psychic magic, Morgan's enchantment breached Skyler's defenses with alarming ease.

Admittedly, as a seasoned Occlumens and adept in spiritual magic akin to "Absolute Dominance," Skyler's spiritual fortitude should have been far from fragile. Yet, in his vulnerability upon beholding "Meredith," Morgan exploited this lapse with precision, emulating Meredith's mannerisms, voice, and demeanor to ensnare Skyler.

This weakness dealt a crippling blow to Skyler's spirit.

Skyler's vulnerability stemmed primarily from the haunting specter of "Meredith's Shadow." Had the adversary not masqueraded as Meredith, Skyler's psyche might have withstood the assault far more firmly.

Nevertheless, Skyler's resilience was remarkable. Swiftly recognizing the intrusion into his mind, he paid the physical toll without hesitation, channeling his entire mental prowess to shatter the enchantment and erect impenetrable barriers through Occlumency.

Layer by layer, he fortified his spirit, denying the foe any chance of a resurgence.

Despite their adversarial relationship, Voldemort understood the imperative of unity in the face of a common threat. Skyler's demise would bode ill for Voldemort's own prospects of survival.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort's curse thundered forth, aimed squarely at Morgan.

Yet, before the curse could find its mark, a water elemental surged forth from the earth, crystallizing into an icy barrier that shielded Morgan. Resilient, she weathered the onslaught, though the force of the Killing Curse shattered her form into glittering shards of ice.

"Voldemort, have you forgotten my existence?" The pirate king, who had been conspicuously silent until now, seized the moment to assert his presence, sending a ripple through the atmosphere.

Morgan clicked her tongue in reproach, taking the floor with her own voice this time. "Voldemort, Voldemort, though a newcomer, you've made waves in this era. But resorting to sneak attacks? It's beneath you and truly disappointing."

"The grandiosity and moral posturing of the powerful are mere facades for hypocrisy. I have no use for such pretense—what matters is efficacy. Whether noble or despicable, success justifies the means," Voldemort retorted, his tone frigid.

"Well said," Morgan chimed in, a saccharine smile gracing her lips as she applauded lightly. "Truly befitting a legend. But do you know why we've chosen this moment to reveal ourselves, instead of waiting for you two to exhaust each other in battle?"

Voldemort was momentarily taken aback. He hadn't considered this angle. Why hadn't the opposition waited until he and Skyler were locked in a life-or-death struggle before making their move?

At that point, with one of them likely deceased and the other severely weakened, any scheme would have a higher chance of success. If they had opted for that timing, wouldn't it have shown greater confidence in their plan?

Morgan's ability to orchestrate the confrontation between Sherrin and Voldemort here demonstrated her profound strategic acumen. Surely, she must have pondered this question thoroughly.

"That's because," Morgan began, her smile as sweet as ever, "We are not foes..."

Morgan continued with a tone that hinted at a deeper understanding. "According to the information I've gathered, both you, Voldemort, and you, Skyler," she paused, "are individuals driven by ambition. You refuse to accept the status quo, yearning to reshape the world in your image."

"We do not belong in the categories of white or dark in the wizarding world; we simply want to get stronger, but the other wizards can't accept our existence! They deemed us to be dangerous and rallied against us before we could proceed further."

She shifted her focus. "If we were to categorize based on our magical practices, despite attending different magical institutions, the truth remains undeniable," her tone turned icy, "We are all deemed dark wizards in the eyes of the public."

Skyler's expression darkened at the reminder. Voldemort's classification of him as a dark wizard was not easily forgotten.

As if sensing Skyler's internal turmoil, Morgan spoke calmly, cutting through the tension. "There's no need for pretense. The wand you hold... it's the Thestral Wand, isn't it?"

Skyler's reaction was immediate. His pupils contracted, his lips pressed into a thin line as he battled the impulse to strike out at Morgan then and there.