[FOR EVERY 100 POWERSTONES = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER]
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The silence in Gringotts was no longer one of reverence; it was the stunned quiet after a historical earthquake. The revelation of Merlin, Morgana, and Arthur as siblings, children of a Celestial Dragon, had rewritten history in the space of a few minutes. John stood at the epicenter, the unassuming heir to a legacy of fire, blood, and broken crowns.
As the group processed this, Agni, who had been a silent, watchful presence on John's shoulder, let out a soft, melodic trill. She nuzzled John's cheek affectionately, then, in a flash of golden flame, vanished. A telepathic whisper echoed in John's mind. "The call of the Celestial Grove is strong, little brother. The others must know a scion of Ashborn and Drakon walks the mortal realm once more. I will return." Her departure was as swift and purposeful as her nature.
Ragnok, still visibly shaken, scurried away and returned with a thick ledger and several scrolls. He laid them out on the counter with trembling hands. "Your Majesty, a preliminary accounting of your assets, as is your right."
John took the proffered parchment. His eyes scanned the document, and with each line, his sense of unreality grew.
Pendragon Vault: Full access granted. Contains: 50,000,000 Galleons, 100,000,000 Sickles, 200,000,000 Knuts. Assets: Deeds to Magical Districts in London, Paris, and Berlin. Annual tax revenue from the Wizarding Governments of England, France, and Germany. Title: Wizard King of Europe (Ceremonial and Financial). Deed to the Kingdom of Camelot (Magical Enclave, Current Status: Preserved).
Ashborn Vault: Full access granted. Contains: 30,000,000 Galleons, various priceless artifacts of healing and light magic.
Emrys Vault: Access: Denied. Requires explicit permission from Lord Myrddin Emrys.
Le Fay Vault: Access: Denied. Requires explicit permission from Lady Morgana Le Fay.
John stumbled back a step, the parchment feeling like lead in his hands. "This… this isn't just wealth. This is… an entire economy. A responsibility." He looked at Merlin, the truth of his earlier words crashing down on him.
Merlin gave a grim nod. "I told you it was no mere chair."
Before John could process further, the air in the great hall split with a sound like shattering crystal. A loud, definitive CRACK echoed off the marble walls. The wizards who had been kneeling rose swiftly and stood at stiff, formal attention, their faces pale.
Through the main entrance swept a woman.
She appeared to be in her late twenties, a vision of devastating, regal beauty. Her hair was the color of polished obsidian, cascading over shoulders draped in a gown of liquid midnight, embroidered with silver thread that mimicked constellations. She moved with a hypnotic, predatory grace, a seductive allure that seemed to warp the very air around her. For a moment, Godric Gryffindor's jaw went slack, and even Salazar Slytherin's cool composure cracked, his eyes glazing over before he shook his head violently, as if breaking a spell.
It was only when John, feeling the invasive nature of the allure, unconsciously released a pulse of his Source Energy—a wave of pure, neutral existence—that the founders and Sharon snapped back to themselves, blinking in confusion.
The woman was flanked by a cadre of severe-looking witches and wizards in formal ministerial robes. But all eyes were on her. Her gaze, sharp and ancient, locked onto Merlin, and a complex storm of emotions swirled within them—old affection, deeper resentment, and a profound, weary familiarity.
"You old man," she said, her voice a silken contralto that commanded the vast space. "Why do you still cling to this mortal world? Your aura… you are teetering on the brink of the Divine Realm."
Merlin sighed, the sound full of a thousand years of sibling arguments. "Morgana, you are, at most, two or three years my junior. Pot, meet kettle."
Her flawless features tightened. "Never, ever mention a woman's age aloud, you idiotic fool!" she snapped, her regal composure fracturing for a second. Then her gaze shifted, falling upon John.
The change was instantaneous. Her haughty expression melted away, replaced by a look of such stunned, heart-wrenching recognition that it stole the breath from everyone who saw it. For her, John's face—the set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes—overlapped perfectly with the memory of a sturdy, fearless young man who had once faced her down with a sword, the only muggle-born who could ever challenge an Archmagus. Her little brother, Arthur. And beside that memory, the gentle, powerful smile of Shreya Ashborn. A single, crystalline tear escaped the corner of her eye, tracing a path down her cheek before she swiftly wiped it away.
In two strides, she was before John. Without a word, she pulled him into a tight, fierce embrace. It was not a seductive gesture, but a maternal, protective one, filled with a grief that had been held at bay for centuries.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice thick. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save my brother. But you… his blood lives on in you. And I will not fail you. I will keep you safe."
The scene was so unexpectedly tender that Sharon and the founders felt their own eyes grow moist. The "evil witch" of legend was holding John like a long-lost son.
It was Rowena who, driven by insatiable curiosity, dared to speak. "My Lady… the histories… they all say you were a dark witch. But you… you don't seem…"
Merlin and Morgana both let out identical, dry laughs at the same time. The synchronized sound was unnerving.
Ragnok shuffled forward, wringing his hands. "That… that was us, My Lady," he confessed, his voice filled with shame. "During the Goblin-Wizard wars. We spread those rumors. We were… we were ashamed of our ancestors' role in the conflict against Camelot. We thought if you were painted as a monster, no one would dare seek out the kingdom, would question what truly happened."
To everyone's surprise, Morgana reached out and patted the ancient goblin's head gently. "Do not trouble yourself, Ragnok. It was a blessing in disguise. Because of those rumors, no foolhardy treasure hunter has ever disturbed Arthur's final resting place. I have experienced the worst this world has to offer. In all my long life, only three people ever truly saw me, not the succubus, not the sorceress, just Morgana. Merlin, Arthur, and Shreya. They are the ones who pulled me back from the abyss of the dark arts and helped me master the… biological compulsions of my succubus heritage."
She then turned her sharp gaze back to Merlin, the momentary softness gone. "So. Why have you summoned me? And don't lie. I can feel the tension in the air."
Merlin, knowing he was on thin ice, explained the situation with John's wand, the three items, and the need for the Yggdrasil root. He leaned in, whispering the final, crucial detail directly into her ear.
Morgana's reaction was volcanic. She shoved Merlin away, her magic flaring around her like a black sun. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" she shrieked, the windows of the bank rattling. "You let him do that?!"
With a furious slash of her hand, she conjured a dome of shimmering, opaque energy that enveloped their entire group, cutting them off from the rest of Gringotts. Inside the tomb-like silence of the barrier, she rounded on John.
"Dear boy," she said, her voice trembling with a fear John had never seen in anyone so powerful. "Tell me the truth. Did you truly… manifest a Divine Runic Symbol?"
John simply nodded and held out his palm. The three-dimensional, glowing hexagon of the Source Rune materialized, its simple geometry containing unbearable power.
Morgana stared at it, her body trembling. The rune's energy washed over her, and she gasped, stumbling back a step. "D-Dual properties… in one rune…" she stammered, her eyes wide with terror and awe. "Adaptability… and… a defiance of entropy itself? What manner of monster are you?" She whirled on Merlin, her fury renewed. "And you! You let this happen!"
She turned back to John, her expression shifting to one of intense, motherly concern. "Listen to me. Never, ever do something so reckless again. You not only look like Arthur… you have his damned, stubborn, charge-head-first-into-impossible-odds personality!"
She took a deep, steadying breath. "The Yggdrasil root… it is not a thing one simply finds. It is a thing one earns. There is always a price, a sacrifice. Odin gave his eye for a mere fragment of runic knowledge. You are asking for a piece of the Tree's very body. The sacrifice will be… immense."
She placed a hand on his cheek, her touch surprisingly warm. "But do not fear. I will speak to Him. I will plead your case."
"The Old Man?" John asked.
"Father," Morgana corrected, her voice a complex mix of resentment and a longing John recognized all too well. "Our father. Aurelius Drakon." She looked pointedly at Merlin. "You will bring him to Father, you moron. You failed to guide Arthur. Do not make the same mistake with his heir."
With that final, scathing command, she gave John one last, lingering look, then dissolved the magical barrier. With another deafening CRACK, she and her entourage were gone.
The normal sounds of the bank rushed back in. Wizards and goblins blinked, shaking their heads as if waking from a dream.
Merlin ran a hand down his face, looking every one of his thousand-plus years. "That unruly sister of mine… always knows how to put her elder brother in the most difficult positions." He muttered the last part to himself, "And that old lizard… what will he do when he sees me after all this time?"
Rowena, ever the seeker of knowledge, dared to ask, "Master? This 'Old Man'… you mean your father?"
Merlin looked at her, then at John, his expression unreadable. He gave a single, slow nod. "Let's go. It is time you met my father."
The quest for a wand had become a pilgrimage to meet a Celestial Dragon. The changes John, Sharon, and Agni were bringing to this world were spiraling far beyond anything they could have imagined, a cascade of events whose final outcome was known only to the inscrutable God of Existence Himself.
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