[Location: Camelot – Abandoned Watchtower, Midnight]
The air was colder up here.
High enough to see the torchlights that lined Camelot's outer walls. The wind carried voices from the guard posts — muffled, half-lost in the night.
Perfect isolation.
I'd found the old watchtower a few days ago. Crumbling stone, half the stairwell missing, but the upper platform still stood strong enough for me to work.
And hidden enough for me to risk a little light.
I knelt, drawing a tight circle on the worn stone floor — a containment pattern three layers deep. Not for show, but survival. The smaller the discharge, the less likely Uther's wards would notice.
Tonight wasn't about scale. It was about control.
I flexed my hands and felt the faint static crawl under my skin — Quantum Mana stirring like a coiled spring.
The trick was to release it without a flare. No glow. No sound. Just motion.
I exhaled and spoke softly,
"Ignis minor—contain."
A thin blue arc shot from my palm — brief, quiet — and snapped into the far wall with a muted crack.
The light died almost instantly, leaving a faint scorch mark.
Better. Still too bright, but better.
I tried again. This time I layered a dampening field over it — a compression field, drawn from what I'd studied in Merlin's geometric circles.
Release. Fold. Dissipate.
The spark appeared, smaller this time, barely a flicker.
Contained. Stable.
A grin tugged at my mouth. "Finally."
"Impressive," said a voice from the shadows.
My body went still.
I turned — mana building instinctively in my fingers — but stopped when I saw who it was.
Morgana.
She stood just inside the tower entrance, lantern dimmed, her cloak trailing over the broken stones.
The golden light from her lantern traced the edges of her face — sharp, elegant, calm.
Her expression wasn't fear. It was curiosity.
"I didn't mean to startle you," she said, stepping closer. "But I've been seeing flashes of light from this tower for nights. I thought… someone might be in danger."
"Just me," I said, lowering my hand. "Experimenting."
Her eyes dropped to the faint scorch marks on the wall. "Experimenting with what, exactly?"
I hesitated. Lying would only insult her intelligence.
"Energy manipulation," I said finally. "It's not exactly the kind of thing Uther would approve of."
Her mouth curved faintly — not in mockery, but recognition. "Then we have that in common."
I studied her, caught off guard by the quiet conviction in her tone.
She walked past me, tracing her fingers along the edge of the containment circle. "You've built this… without a focus stone?"
"Too risky," I said. "Anything reactive leaves a signature."
She nodded slowly, the flickering lanternlight reflecting in her green eyes. "So you hide it."
"I try."
She looked up at me then — really looked — and for a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she said quietly, "You're not afraid of it, are you? Magic."
"No," I said. "Fear's useful. But it can't be the reason you stop learning."
Her smile was small, almost wistful. "If only my guardian shared that philosophy."
Her tone carried weight — something personal, buried under years of restraint.
I didn't press. She didn't need me to.
Instead, I looked back to the wall, raised my hand, and called the energy again. This time, I spoke the words clearly, for her to see.
"Ignis minor—stabilis."
A faint blue spark hovered between my fingers. No sound. No flare.
Just a controlled, quiet flame — like a firefly caught in glass.
Morgana watched it, eyes wide, light dancing across her face.
"That's beautiful," she whispered.
"Efficient," I corrected automatically. "Minimal energy loss."
She laughed softly — a sound that didn't belong in the stone cold of Camelot.
"Maybe. But not everything has to be efficient, Ren."
I let the spark fade and met her gaze again.
"You shouldn't be here," I said quietly. "If anyone saw—"
"No one followed me." Her tone was firm. Then, after a pause, she added, "You don't have to do this alone, you know. Whatever it is you're trying to build."
"I do," I said simply. "For now."
Morgana studied me for another long second, then gave a slow nod. "Then I won't tell anyone."
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Her answer came without hesitation.
"Because I want to see where this leads."
She turned, her cloak whispering across the floor as she walked away.
The lanternlight faded with her steps, leaving me alone again in the dark.
I stared at the faint scorch marks on the stone wall — the silent proof of progress — and exhaled.
She wasn't wrong.
It was beautiful.
But beauty here was dangerous.
And now, someone else had seen it.
[Author's Note]
This chapter marks the first real connection between Ren and Morgana — a fragile trust built on shared secrecy. We also see Ren's first successful offensive spell, small but precise, mirroring his careful control over both magic and emotion. This scene sets up the tension for future chapters, where Morgana's curiosity — and compassion — could either become his strongest ally… or his undoing.