The meeting room on Kamino was sealed, quiet except for rain striking the exterior glass. A long table sat at the center, occupied only by those who knew the truth—those who understood what Jin-Woo was, what had moved in the galaxy, and what had just barely been contained.
Barghest sat upright in her original body, restored, whole, dense with presence. She clenched her right fist once, then again, testing tendon, weight, response. The motion carried no uncertainty—only confirmation.
Doctor Halsey watched her from across the table, fingers folded, eyes sharp with restrained fascination.
"I have to say," Halsey said, breaking the silence, "this is genuinely cheating death. Cellular reconstruction I understand. Neural mapping, even continuity transfer. But this—souls being transferred, shaped, preserved." She shook her head once. "I still don't believe it's real."
Barghest flexed her hand again, slower this time. The movement ended with her fingers curling tight.
"A knight has steel in her body," she said. "And will in her soul. I live because my queen willed it so. That is enough."
At the far wall, the Master Chief leaned back with his arms crossed, helmet angled slightly downward. He hadn't spoken since the meeting began. He didn't need to.
A soft projection flickered to life above his open palm.
Cortana appeared, hands on her hips, hologram stabilizing instantly. Her gaze snapped toward Halsey.
"What my creator wants to know," Cortana said brightly, "you thick-headed woman with the large chest, is how Morgan le Fay manipulated the soul instead of the mind."
Halsey didn't blink.
"Mind transfer is theory," Cortana continued, pacing in midair. "Digitized cognition. Memory continuity. Easy to simulate, impossible to prove. But this?" She gestured sharply toward Barghest. ". This is identity persistence."
Cortana stopped pacing.
"So I'll ask cleanly," she said. "How did your queen bypass cognition entirely?"
Barghest drew breath to answer—then stopped.
Her jaw tightened. Something in her shoulders shifted, the restored body responding faster than the thought behind it. The bluntness that had always defined her surfaced, unfiltered.
She leaned forward slightly.
"Want me to beat you to a pulp, hologram?" Barghest said. "See how much of you stays coherent then, huh."
The room reacted instantly. Metal whispered.
The Master Chief was already moving. His rifle came up in one smooth motion, muzzle angled—not at Barghest's head, but center mass. Safe. Controlled. Ready. "Stand down," he said.
His voice was flat, even. No threat in it. That made it worse.
"You might shrug off bullets," he continued, finger steady near the trigger, "but at this range it'll still stun you. Cool yourself." A half-beat pause. "You don't want to embarrass yourself over a provocation."
Barghest froze. Her fist unclenched. The tension bled out of her posture, replaced by a stiff, almost sulky stillness.
Cortana blinked, then grinned. "Ooo. See?" she said lightly. "Impulse confirmed."
Before Barghest could snap back— The door slid open. The room shifted.
Morgan le Fay stepped inside. The air changed first. Pressure, subtle but unmistakable. Then the sight of her made it worse.
She was upright. Walking. Composed.
But the wound was still there. A vertical seam ran down her body, the place Abeloth had split her in half. It had been stitched closed with precise, deliberate force—too neat, too intentional. Not healed. Corrected. Pink sigils flickered faintly along the line, holding reality together by insistence rather than comfort.
Barghest stood immediately. "My queen."
Morgan lifted one hand, a small gesture. Sit. Later.
Doctor Halsey's eyes lit up. She leaned back in her chair, lips curling slightly.
"Not so immortal now, huh," Halsey said. "Monarch of Transfiguration. Queen of England's Lostbelt."
The room went still. Morgan stopped two steps inside the doorway. Her eyes settled on Halsey—not cold, not angry. Measuring.
"You seem pleased," Morgan said. "Was it my defeat that excited you, Doctor?" A faint tilt of the head. "Or do you simply hate magic and power that exists beyond your equations."
Halsey didn't flinch. She folded her hands.
"You and Jin-Woo," Halsey said evenly, "already exist beyond my understanding."
A pause.
"That doesn't mean I stop asking questions."
Morgan lowered herself into a seat at the table. The motion was unhurried, controlled. The stitched seam along her body tightened slightly as she settled, faint sigils adjusting to the strain.
Her eyes shifted—not to Halsey—but to the tall Kaminoan standing at the far end.
"Prime Minister of Kamino," Morgan said. "Lama Su."
Lama Su inclined his long neck with practiced courtesy.
"How proceeds the project we have conducted over these past years," Morgan asked.
Lama Su's tone remained measured, clinical. "Most lines have succeeded. As you are already aware, the Zakuul Knights have performed within expected combat tolerances during live deployment."
He paused, longer this time. "However, the Yuuzhan Vong series remains incomplete. Their biology is… resistant. The samples provided were insufficient."
His hands folded together. "If I may suggest—access to more than a single soldier would allow us to identify the missing genomic key."
Halsey exhaled through her nose.
"You already have enough armies," she said, eyes never leaving Morgan. "And you still want more." Her head tilted slightly. "Are you really that afraid you might get your ass handed to you again?"
The table creaked.
Barghest's chair scraped back as her hand came down hard—stopped inches from impact.
Morgan's fingers lifted. That was all.
Barghest froze. Her jaw tightened, fury compressed and swallowed whole, her body obeying before her pride could protest.
Morgan turned back to Halsey. Her expression didn't harden. It sharpened. "You should go to Yavin 4," Morgan said calmly. "And switch places with me—one hour ago."
Halsey's eyes narrowed.
Morgan leaned forward slightly, her voice even, almost instructional. "And you will see," she continued, "that even if you brought your Blue Team. Even if you brought your Gen-4 Spartans. Even if you brought your beloved John-117 into that jungle—"
A brief pause. "You would still be dead in under five minutes."
Morgan leaned forward slightly, her voice even, almost instructional.
"And you will see," she continued, "that even if you brought your Blue Team. Even if you brought your Gen-4 Spartans. Even if you brought your beloved John-117 into that jungle—"
A brief pause.
"You would still be dead in under five minutes."
The air behind her folded inward. A dark portal opened without sound.
Shadow spilled across the floor first, then Jin-Woo stepped through, coat settling as if gravity remembered him late.
Morgan didn't turn. She simply nodded. "My husband."
Barghest straightened immediately, fist to chest. "Shadow Monarch."
Jin-Woo inclined his head once, then walked to the table and sat down as if he'd been there all along.
"There's been a major flip on the board," he said calmly. "Enough to push our position backward for the first time in a while."
Halsey didn't miss the opening. She leaned back in her chair, eyes sharp.
"The mistake," she said, "is your wife." A thin smile. "Thinking she's invincible. Like Superman." She waved a hand vaguely. "Didn't expect something functionally equivalent to kryptonite to impale her."
She tilted her head toward Jin-Woo.
"Oh, by the way—how was Dooku's funeral? You should've invited me. I'd love to see this Jedi thing up close. A whole group of monks who can do magic."
Before anyone else could answer, Lama Su spoke.
"It is called the Force, Dr. Halsey," he said evenly. "I am aware that you already know this."
Lama Su's long neck inclined slightly, polite but firm. "But now is not the time for teasing," he said, "nor for probing those who have just returned from catastrophe."
Jin-Woo answered without looking at him. "It's not the end of the galaxy yet, Lama Su," he said calmly. "This was a temporary setback."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting together. "And I need to brief everyone," he continued. "Most of you have already received partial updates from my Forerunner monitor." A brief pause. "There's a gap I'll close now."
The room focused.
"First," Jin-Woo said, "our caged monster—the one I deliberately weakened—has learned how to escape."
Cortana's hologram flickered, recalculating.
"At least a fragment," Jin-Woo added. "A portion of her soul slipped the bind."
Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"She's likely still on Yavin 4," Morgan said. "That remains the widest stable range for her manifestation from her true body."
Morgan touched the stitched seam along her torso, more reflex than pain.
"But you're right," she continued. "That cage nearly failed. If you hadn't intervened when you did, she wouldn't have escaped partially." A brief pause. "She would have gotten out completely."
Jin-Woo stayed silent.
His eyes lowered slightly, unfocused—not on the table, not on anyone present. Calculation displaced certainty.
If one Monarch was damaged, the structure weakened. And if Morgan's state affected him—
Then his own anchor wasn't absolute.