Three months after her birthday, the breakfast table looked entirely different.
Morwenna sat in her usual chair and stared at the spread in front of her. There was no toast, no porridge, and no eggs staring back at her with glassy yellow eyes.
Tilly had truly outdone himself.
A bowl of steamed rice sat at her elbow, flecked with bits of egg and green onion. Next to it rested a plate of noodles in dark sauce that looked slick and glossy, alongside small dumplings in a woven bamboo basket. Pickled vegetables filled a shallow dish, and thin slices of meat floated in a bowl of clear broth.
She picked up her chopsticks.
"Tilly."
The elf appeared at her elbow, his ears trembling slightly. "Yes, little miss?"
"This is good."
His ears went pink, and he vanished back toward the kitchen before she could see him cry.
Jane watched her daughter eat. For the past three months, Morwenna had merely picked at her breakfast, managing a bite of toast here or a spoonful of porridge there. She hadn't outright refused the food, but she simply hadn't been interested. Jane had watched the meals go cold on her plate more mornings than she cared to count.
Now, the girl was eating like someone who had been hungry for a long time and had only just realised it.
Jane caught Jack's eye across the table, and he gave a small shrug. Neither of them said a word.
Saoirse sat at the far end of the table with her own bowl of noodles. She wasn't eating at all, choosing instead to push the food around with her chopsticks while she watched the steam rise.
Morwenna set her chopsticks down. "You aren't eating."
Saoirse looked up. Her familiar grin was there, but it sat differently on her face, looking thinner and less certain. "I'm not hungry."
"You are leaving."
Saoirse's grin flickered for a fraction of a second. "Today."
"How long?"
Saoirse looked at Jack, then at Jane, before turning her gaze back to her niece. "Maybe a year. Maybe two. Maybe more."
The noodles slipped from Morwenna's chopsticks and fell back into the bowl.
"Why?"
"Because there are places I haven't seen yet." Saoirse's voice was light, but her eyes lacked their usual brightness. "And because I'm no good at staying still. You know that."
Morwenna picked up her chopsticks again, took a bite of her noodles, chewed, and finally swallowed.
"Oh," she said, her voice dropping.
The entire table went quiet.
Jack reached for his tea while Jane's hand found Morwenna's knee under the table. The young girl didn't pull away. She just picked up her chopsticks and kept eating.
. . .
The entrance hall felt crowded by the time they finished breakfast. Jack wore dark green travelling robes with the Keith crest embroidered at the collar, while Jane was dressed in deep indigo, her red hair pinned up neatly. Morwenna stood between her parents in formal black robes decorated with silver threading at the cuffs.
Saoirse had already put on her travelling cloak. The dark fabric was entirely practical, lacking any embroidery or silver details. Her trunk rested beside her on the stone floor, the leather worn and the brass fittings dull from twenty years of constant use.
Aldric stood near the fountain with Seraphina right beside him, and neither of them spoke a word.
Morwenna looked up at her aunt. Saoirse's dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, and the white streak at her temple caught the pale morning light pouring through the windows.
Tears gathered in Morwenna's eyes, blurring them.
Saoirse crossed the hall in quick steps and pulled her niece into a tight hug. She pressed her chin firmly against the top of the young girl's head.
"I will be back before you know it," she said, her voice softening.
Morwenna pressed her face into the older woman's shoulder, the wool of the cloak rough against her cheek.
"You promised," Morwenna said, her voice muffled against the fabric. "You promised to travel with me."
Saoirse let out a warm laugh that bounced brightly off the stone walls. She pulled back just enough to look directly at her niece's face.
"We will," she said, a gentle certainty in her tone. "Just the two of us, one day." She winked playfully. "I will show you places the maps don't even have names for yet."
Morwenna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. "You promise?"
"I promise, little monster. I promise."
Saoirse hugged her again, a quick and fierce embrace, before finally letting go.
She turned her attention to Jack.
"Don't let anyone push you around," she said.
He raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Who is going to push me around?"
"I don't know. Someone. Just keep an eye out."
She stepped over to Jane and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Take care of her."
"I will," Jane replied softly.
Saoirse then moved to Aldric and hugged him, holding on for much longer than Morwenna had expected. Aldric's hand came up and patted her back in three slow, deliberate thumps.
Seraphina reached out and touched Saoirse's face. "Write when you can."
"I will."
Saoirse picked up her trunk by its worn leather handle and walked to the front door. She paused on the threshold and looked back over her shoulder.
"Don't miss me too much," she said, flashing that familiar grin one last time. "And don't let her get too bored while I am gone. A bored Nimue is an absolute menace."
Then she was out the door, and the heavy wood clicked shut behind her. Through the nearest window, Morwenna watched her aunt walk away toward the creature meadow. The woman's figure grew smaller and smaller until the tall grass swallowed her completely.
A heavy quiet settled over the hall.
Aldric cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You have an appointment."
Jack nodded slowly before looking down at his daughter. "Ready?"
She certainly didn't feel ready. Her chest still ached right where Saoirse's fierce hug had pressed against her ribs. But she nodded anyway.
Jane took her hand, and Jack picked up the leather bag containing the Gringotts letter. They walked toward the fireplace together.
Aldric stood tall by the hearth. "We will be here when you return."
Seraphina touched Morwenna's hair, a single feather-light stroke.
Jack grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the grate. "Diagon Alley."
The flames roared up in a burst of emerald green.
Holding tight to her mother's hand, Morwenna stepped forward into the fire.
. . .
Gringotts rose imposingly above them, its white marble and gleaming pillars looking exactly the same as they had during her last visit. Morwenna stood on the grand steps and looked up at the warning inscription carved deep into the stone. The ancient words hadn't changed, but she certainly had.
The very first time she walked through these doors, she had been five years old, hollowed out, and still desperately trying to figure out which pieces of herself belonged where. Now she was six and feeling far more settled, the two distinct lives in her head having finally stopped their constant fighting.
Even so, her stomach gave an uncomfortable flip when the armed goblin at the entrance looked down at her.
Steeling herself, she followed her parents inside.
The expansive main hall was exactly as she remembered it. The polished marble floors shone brilliantly under the light of massive crystal chandeliers, and long wooden counters stretched across the room, lined with goblins scratching at thick ledgers.
Their quills seemed to hold an endless supply of ink, and the collective sound of their scratching filled the cavernous space. It was the noise of hundreds of transactions happening all at once, the meticulous business of the wizarding world being handled right there.
Jack confidently approached the main desk. "We have an appointment with Threndak."
The goblin seated there looked up from his work. His dark, assessing eyes moved methodically from Jack to Jane, and finally settled on the young girl between them. He didn't say a single word, choosing instead to offer a curt nod and gesture toward a heavy wooden door positioned behind the counter.
.
Threndak's office remained entirely unchanged. Dark wood panelling lined the walls, a small fire cracked quietly in the grate, and the air smelled heavily of old parchment with an undeniable tang of cold metal lying underneath it all.
The goblin stood as they entered, looking slightly shorter than Morwenna remembered, even though they had met before. For some reason, goblins always seemed to carry a different sort of presence when standing rather than seated behind a desk.
"Lord Keith. Lady Keith. Miss Keith." Threndak gestured toward the waiting chairs. "Please, sit."
They took their seats, and Threndak proceeded to pour tea from a pot resting on a side table into three small cups. The ceramic felt warm against Morwenna's skin as she wrapped her fingers around her cup, though she made no move to drink from it. A plate of biscuits sat untouched between them.
"You have recovered well," Threndak observed. His tone made it clear it wasn't a question.
Morwenna simply nodded in agreement.
"The purpose of today's appointment is the weapon selection." Threndak set the teapot down with a soft clinking sound. "As we discussed during your previous visit, the founder's instructions require that you test which weapons actually suit you. The formal ceremony will follow in six months' time."
Morwenna remembered the arrangement vividly. She remembered the weight of the legacy, and the goblin name she had been given. Vethara.
"We are ready," Jane confirmed quietly.
Threndak stood up, walked over to the door, and held it open for them. "This way."
He led them through a series of corridors that the girl didn't recognise from her first visit. The stone walls down here were noticeably rougher and completely unpolished, illuminated by torches that burned with strange, low flames in shades of blue and orange. The air grew cooler, damper. They passed a heavy door marked with jagged symbols, then another.
"Where are we going?" Morwenna asked, her voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.
"Below," Threndak answered smoothly. "To the goblin residence, deep beneath the vaults."
She glanced up at her father, but Jack's expression remained perfectly unreadable.
They soon reached a small, dimly lit platform where an idle cart waited. Thick metal tracks extended from it, disappearing completely into a pitch-black tunnel up ahead.
The cart itself was much smaller than she had expected, completely open to the air, and heavily rusted in several places. It looked like the sort of crude contraption that absolutely shouldn't work, yet had likely functioned flawlessly for centuries.
"Miss Keith," Threndak advised. "Sit tight. And hold on."
They climbed awkwardly into the cart. The seats were made of unforgiving hard metal, and the safety bar stretching across the front immediately dug uncomfortably into Morwenna's stomach. She sat sandwiched between her parents, feeling Jack's large hand envelop hers while Jane's warm arm pressed reassuringly against her shoulder.
Threndak climbed into the front seat and pulled a heavy iron lever.
The cart lurched forward with a violent metallic groan, and then the bottom simply seemed to drop out from under them.
The dark tunnel swallowed them whole as freezing wind began tearing frantically at Morwenna's black and white hair. The jagged stone walls blurred past at a terrifying speed, feeling far too close for comfort.
As the cart picked up momentum, its wheels screamed a deafening protest against the iron tracks, leaving the girl with the distinct sensation that her stomach had been left several hundred meters above them.
Suddenly, the cart swung hard to the left, slamming her body heavily against Jane's shoulder. Then it jerked violently to the right before plunging straight down into the abyss once more.
The chaotic tracks spiralled, looped, and dove without warning, offering nothing to look at but crushing darkness punctuated by the occasional blinding flash of torchlight.
Just as she thought she couldn't take another drop, the narrow tunnel exploded outward into a truly vast cavern. The cart hurtled along a terrifyingly thin track suspended directly over a massive chasm.
Far below them, something pulsed with a sullen red glow, sending waves of blistering heat rising up through the open air until Morwenna's eyes began to water.
A massive shape shifted in the surrounding darkness. She caught the terrifying glimpse wings and pale, heavy scales. It was a dragon, chained securely to the living rock, its massive head turning slowly as its reptilian eyes tracked the tiny cart screaming past its domain.
Morwenna didn't scream, nor did she close her eyes in fear. She simply gripped the metal bar in front of her until her knuckles turned stark white and held on for dear life. Before she could process the sight of the beast, the cart twisted violently again.
They endured another sickening drop, followed immediately by a vertical climb. The track looped completely, throwing her upside down, right side up, and then sideways in rapid succession as her hair whipped blindingly across her face. Jane's grip on her arm had become as unyielding as iron.
Through it all, Threndak sat at the very front of the cart, remaining perfectly still with his hands resting casually on his knees as if he were reading the morning post.
The chaotic ride seemed to last forever, though it might have only been ten minutes. Morwenna honestly couldn't tell, having completely lost her sense of time somewhere around the third nauseating loop.
Finally, the screaming metal wheels began to slow, and the cart ground to a halting stop. The platform stretching out ahead of them was illuminated by normal torches that burned with a steady, blessedly stationary flame.
When Morwenna finally tried to stand, her legs completely refused to work. Her knees buckled instantly, but Jane was right there to catch her arm while Jack pressed a steadying hand against her back. Together, they helped her stumble off the metal cart onto solid stone.
"That," she managed to say, her voice shaking slightly, "was worse than flying."
Threndak's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. He walked over to a small cabinet built directly into the cavern wall and retrieved three small vials of dark glass filled with a pale green liquid.
"For the sensation," he offered, holding them out. "It will ease the lingering discomfort."
He handed one vial to each of his human guests.
The girl drank her portion without hesitation. The liquid was surprisingly cold, tasting strongly of sharp mint mixed with something deep and earthy. As the potion spread warmly through her chest and radiated down into her arms, the violent shaking finally stopped. Her stomach settled back into its proper place, and the entire cavern mercifully stopped tilting.
She handed the empty glass vial back to their guide.
"Much better," she admitted.
Threndak's mouth gave another slight twitch. "Follow me."
They walked out of the narrow tunnel and stepped into a truly breathtaking expanse. The cavern ceiling rose higher than anything Morwenna had ever seen, formed of solid rock that inexplicably glowed from within. Brilliant veins of blue, green, and gold light ran through the stone, looking exactly like luminous rivers viewed from high above.
Massive crystal pillars rose from the uneven floor, their faceted surfaces radiating a soft, ambient glow. In the distance, sprawling lakes of silver stretched toward the dark horizon, not made of water, but of thick, slowly moving liquid metal that shone brilliantly in the cavern's light.
Rivers of heavy mercury cut winding paths through the stone, while an eerie red light pulsed steadily from deep chasms that seemed to have no bottom.
"It's beautiful," Morwenna breathed, genuinely awestruck.
Threndak didn't offer a reply, choosing instead to keep walking down the path.
The sprawling goblin settlement spread out magnificently before them. Tunnels branched off in every conceivable direction, ranging from narrow passages barely wide enough for a single goblin to vast, cavernous thoroughfares carved out to easily accommodate heavy wagons and strange subterranean carts.
Entire buildings clung precariously to the sheer walls, carved directly out of the living rock. Some featured proper doors and glass windows, while others were simply smooth openings in the stone that looked like dark mouths leading deeper into the heart of the mountain.
Graceful stone bridges spanned the numerous glowing gaps, and ambient light seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Hundreds of goblins moved purposefully through the winding streets. The inhabitants themselves were small, but their architecture certainly wasn't. The doors were human-height, and the windows were perfectly proportioned, meaning a full-grown wizard could comfortably walk into any of the buildings without ever needing to stoop.
Several of the passing goblins looked up at the human visitors, their expressions curious rather than outright hostile. Their dark eyes meticulously tracked the stark white sections woven through Morwenna's raven hair, and their gazes lingered on the contrast of her red and silver eyes.
A lively group of goblin children ran past the group, their sharp, pointed teeth flashing in the low light, but after a brief glance at the young witch, they simply went back to their games.
"The master smith we are visiting has lineage records tied directly to Morganaadth," Threndak explained as they walked. "Their family worked personally with the founder, and the weapons they forge carry the absolute weight of that history."
Morwenna remembered the harsh-sounding name instantly. Morganaadth. It was Salazar Slytherin's goblin name, a title belonging to a legendary clan leader.
Threndak led his charges deeper into the subterranean city.
The winding path snaked between towering stone buildings and eventually crossed a sturdy arched bridge that spanned a wide river of liquid silver. The molten metal flowed sluggishly beneath them, thick and impossibly bright, sending a wave of dry heat rushing up into their faces as they crossed.
The building waiting at the very end of the bridge stood out entirely from the rest of the settlement. It was set purposefully back from the main path, carved deep into a solid wall of pure black stone. The sign of a roaring forge hung prominently above the entrance, its details not merely painted onto the surface, but masterfully carved from heavy iron.
The metal looked incredibly old, its once-sharp edges worn completely smooth by centuries of heat and time. The heavy wooden door itself was intricately carved with overlapping images: a heavy hammer, a broad anvil, a long sword, and a massive serpent coiled protectively around all three.
Threndak stepped forward and knocked firmly on the wood.
A moment later, the door swung open.
The female goblin in the threshold was older than any Morwenna had seen. Shorter than Threndak, stark white hair, a face deeply lined by age and heat. Her thick hands were covered in silvery scars. Her pale grey eyes were tired yet sharp. She wore a heavy leather apron over a woven tunic, stained with burn marks, oil, years of work.
The old smith looked at Threndak first, briefly assessed the two human adults, and finally let her gaze fall upon the young girl standing between them. Her sharp eyes stopped their sweeping assessment, locking intensely onto Morwenna's face.
"Vethara," she stated, her raspy voice holding no room for doubt.
Morwenna lifted her chin, met the stare without flinching. "Yes."
The smith's mouth curved into the faintest smile. "I am Grindelna. Come inside. We have work to do."
With that, she stepped aside and motioned for them to enter the heat of the forge.