It was the final line of defense.
It was meant to be used wisely.
Morgana repeated that while walking ahead of Aurora through the white corridor. The Prime Minister's footsteps echoed sharply against the immaculate floor, while her purple braids swayed softly with each movement. Aurora followed close behind, silent, fists clenched and eyes fixed on Morgana's back.
Aurora insisted she would never waste any power entrusted to her. She would use everything to its limit, abuse her own strength if necessary to protect people like Morgana. The ruler, however, carried a different perspective. She appreciated Aurora's resolve, but believed her people needed reconstruction more than another war. Even so, she hoped the trust placed in Aurora would not be in vain.
Aurora promised it would not.
That was what Morgana was trying to believe.
With every passing second, the corridor walls seemed narrower. The white light forced Morgana to narrow her eyes briefly, while Aurora kept hers shut, continuing forward with steady steps.
They walked in silence. Only the difference between their breathing filled the air, one slow and controlled, the other quick and uneven.
When they turned the corner, a massive white wall appeared before them. Aurora discreetly raised an eyebrow at the absence of any visible weaponry. Morgana then approached the frozen surface with her hand.
The instant her palm touched the wall, circles of green light wrapped around her fingers. A dark interface emerged from the smooth structure, first recognizing the ruler's fingerprints, then identifying her completely.
The corridor lights began shutting off one after another.
Aurora turned her head.
Then everything was swallowed by darkness.
Her eyes immediately glowed within the void. She spun around quickly, searching for Morgana, but nothing could be seen.
... Nothing except the black walls, which slowly began moving.
They were closing in.
Aurora's eyes widened. Tension surged through her arms as she slammed a brutal punch against the nearby surface.
Nothing happened.
An irritated curse escaped beneath her breath. Flames ignited in her palm, casting orange light that revealed just how close the walls already were. They pressed against her chest, trapped her hair, and forced her legs to bend.
A groan escaped her throat.
Threads of energy shot through her entire body. Flesh tore open, exposing blood between her shoulder blades.
Aurora shut her eyes tightly.
In the next instant, the entire room abruptly expanded.
She crashed onto the cold floor and rolled several meters before stopping on her back, silver hair spread around her head.
That was when Morgana's voice echoed through the room.
Calm. Cold.
The Pillar of Knowledge gritted her teeth and sprang to her feet, fist clenched toward the darkness. The outrage came instantly. Aurora accused Morgana of trying to kill her.
The ruler denied it.
She said she had never intended to execute her, but admitted she could not trust someone like Aurora. Aurora had been vice leader of Libretãnhya, standing beside Rito for years. It was impossible to believe she knew nothing of his plans.
Aurora reacted as though struck again.
She insisted she had never known anything because she had spent all her time away, fighting demons whose power reduced entire civilizations to ash. Trying to save what remained of NeonyRain while the elite hid themselves away. She demanded to know where Morgana had been during the incident, while she herself lost pieces of her own body because of the actions of the Theatrical Assassin.
Silence lingered for several seconds.
Then Morgana admitted Aurora was right.
Her voice sounded low. She confessed she had made too many mistakes while she was still alive and, because of that, she no longer intended to drag innocents into that war.
She would resolve everything herself.
She herself would kill Rito.
On the other side of the transmission, seated before the security cameras, Morgana hid her tear-soaked face behind trembling fingers. One finger remained hovering above the button that would terminate the connection.
Aurora shouted that it was madness.
She questioned whether Morgana truly understood her own helplessness before someone like Rito. The people still needed her. There was no one else capable of defending that country. Aurora begged her to trust her, promising to protect everyone there, swearing her own blood if necessary.
Morgana's response came in a weak whisper.
How could she swear blood, when there was no blood left anymore?
Aurora froze.
Her parted lips trembled faintly while her eyes lowered toward her own hands. The flesh resembled pale texture more than anything alive. The blood, once red, had mixed with oil, becoming something dark.
There was no trace of humanity left.
Only a mind that still perceived itself as human.
She tried to deny it.
Said she was still human.
Morgana disagreed.
There was trembling in her voice as she stated that Aurora could be many things, but not human. She could not trust a machine convinced it possessed consciousness. And before Aurora could insist further, Morgana said goodbye.
Aurora tried to stop her.
She reached into the emptiness, but the connection had already vanished.
Silence fell across the room.
She slowly lowered herself to the ground, knees colliding against the floor. Her fists struck the surface repeatedly with violent force. Then she curled inward, hiding her head between her arms while pulling harshly at her silver strands. The artificial lenses glowed with unstable, aggressive red light.
That was when another sound emerged.
Not the clean echo of that white chamber.
But the abrupt noise of a school door opening.
Aurora lifted her head.
A little girl with gray hair stood a short distance away. Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of her shirt so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Her head remained lowered. Her lips trembled.
Aurora watched the girl slowly cross the room.
Around them, the environment began to change.
The walls disappeared, replaced by an old classroom submerged in darkness. Small white symbols floated through the air in abstract forms. Other children occupied the desks, but they appeared empty, without expression or life in their eyes.
Then a male voice crossed the room.
Deep. Authoritative.
Aurora's core reacted instantly. A violent pulse spread through her body while energy surged uncontrollably beneath the mechanical structure.
A man around fifty years old walked before the blackboard, hands clasped behind his back as he coldly explained the mathematics behind human constructions.
The girl slowly raised her hand.
Trembling.
She asked him to explain it again.
The man walked toward her with a faint smile. He grabbed the child's face with excessive force, his nails marking her delicate cheeks as he asked exactly what she had failed to understand.
The girl tried to answer.
But her entire body trembled.
Tears already filled her eyes when the cane sliced through the air.
The blow struck directly across her face.
The child fell alongside the chair, covering her eye while sobs burst from her chest. The man continued. More blows came against her chest, her back, her face, while he demanded that Aurora explain her question.
The child screamed that she understood everything.
He roared, asking why she had dared interrupt him then.
She confessed:
She had not truly understood.
Aurora rushed toward them.
Tried to run.
But her movements slowed, as though the air itself dragged her backward. The more she tried approaching, the farther away the scene became.
She begged him to stop.
Her eyes began filling with a thick, dark liquid. Her legs failed. Aurora collapsed to her knees, powerless.
The child remained lying on the floor, crying softly, her body covered in purple bruises.
The adult Aurora merely watched.
Her eyes glowed with absolute, murderous red, fixed upon the teacher.
He, however, calmly returned to the blackboard and resumed the lesson as though nothing had happened.
Then every light in the room vanished once again.