Elaine woke slowly.
Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, the breeze gentle, birdsong faint in the distance—but the room was still heavy with grief.
And beside her, seated in silence—
Eugene.
His hands trembled in his lap, eyes rimmed red, tears streaking silently down his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking as he looked down. "I'm so, so sorry, Elaine."
She stared at him, quiet.
Then softly—"If you're sorry…" Her voice didn't tremble. It was steady. "Then take me back."
He winced.
"I… can't."
"Why not?" she asked.
He looked up at her, then past her.
At the crystal coffin at the foot of the bed.
Julian. Preserved in perfect stillness. His body untouched. Beautiful. Silent.
"Ive done enough damage " he said, standing slowly and placing a trembling hand on the glass,
A beat passed.
Then, softly—he exhaled. His hand warmed. Fire sparked faintly beneath his palm.
A final goodbye.
"I wanted to bring Julian back so badly," hr whispered. "But you're right… Julian wouldn't like what I've become.He'd be ashamed. And— I wouldn't want him to see me like this."
Elaine stared at him, then at her hands.
She remembered.
The Avalon Core.
Not just protection. Not just light. It was life.
She stood, slowly, the pain almost gone now.
"Wait—" Eugene said as she stepped forward, but she didn't answer.
She pressed her hands against his chest—felt the flickering remains of the Avalon magic still inside her.
"If Father passed it to me," she murmured, "I pass it on?"
Her eyes flared white.
Not with fire.
But with purpose.
And then she turned to Julian.
Placed her glowing hands over his heart.
"Elaine—" Eugene gasped, stepping forward. "Stop. He's gone. Don't—don't make me watch him die again—"
But she looked back at him, calm and radiant.
"Do you love him, brother?"
His breath caught.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"…Yes."
She pressed her hands down.
Light burst from beneath her palms—Avalon's legacy, life itself, pouring from her soul into Julian's chest. The glass glowed like a sun trapped in crystal, the light burning brighter and brighter until—
Flicker.
Julian's eyes fluttered open. "…Darling?"
Eugene's knees buckled as he dropped to the floor beside the coffin, sobbing, pulling Julian into his arms. "Julian!"
Julian held him, smiling through the haze of light and rebirth.
"I leave you alone for one second," he muttered, "and now look at you… a mess."
Eugene laughed, choked and breathless. "I love you too."
Elaine stepped back, her glow fading now—drained, but smiling softly.
"How touching as this is," she said, glancing between them, "our family is at war with itself. If you wish to help the family you're now part of…"
Julian stood, still shirtless and barefoot, but eyes sharp with new strength.
"I take it you're my savior."
She smiled faintly. "Just your sister."
Julian grinned. "Well then, genius…" He turned to Eugene.
"What do you say?"
Eugene looked between them.
He raised his hand.
Opened a portal.
Its edges shimmered with starlight and gold.
And together—
The last of the Pendragon siblings stepped into the fray.
The throne room was a war zone of steel and sorcery.
Across the battlefield, Gilgamesh and Rhysand stood locked in combat with the now visibly weakened Morgonna.
The clash of steel echoed through the air like thunder. Mordred stood breathless, hair wild, eyes burning—locked in a furious duel with the one he once called king.
The one he once worshipped.
Arturia, blood on her temple, held her sword steady.
"I never wanted to be king!" Mordred roared, striking again—blade hissing as it scraped hers.
Another slash. Sparks flew.
"All I ever wanted—was to be seen! And you looked right through me!"
Arturia's gaze softened, despite the weight in her arms. "That was never my intention."
"Wasn't it?!" he shouted, voice cracking. "All those years you sat on that throne… alone. With a sword you abandoned anyway! And for what?!"
She took a slow breath, whispering, "For family."
His voice rose, hoarse with heartbreak.
"I WAS YOUR FAMILY TOO!"
He lunged, but she parried with ease, spinning to disarm him.
The force knocked him to one knee.
Breathing heavy, she stepped back and released her grip on her sword.
The blade shimmered faintly as it hovered mid-air, caught by magic but untouched by her.
"Mordred," she said, her voice trembling. "Please… I don't want to kill you."
A bitter laugh ripped from his throat. "You mean again."
She extended her hand toward him—fingers trembling but open.
"Please. End this bloodshed."
He stared, the weight of choice suddenly crashing on his shoulders.
In the distance,—his twisted mother—watched with calculating eyes.
She stood at the edge of the field, shrouded in illusion, and spoke, her voice slithering into his mind.
"She's a false king, Mordred," she whispered. "A fake. Do not let sentiment stop us from claiming what is rightfully yours."
His hand twitched.
He looked from Arturia's outstretched hand… to Morgan's cold, awaiting eyes… and back again.
His breath hitched. A flicker of a child's sorrow behind grown fury.
And then—
With a cry of rage, He drew his blade again and lunged, aiming straight for her heart.
"ARTURIA!"
Gilgamesh's voice thundered across the battlefield like a command from the heavens.
And then—
The world shattered.
Cracks formed in the sky, light bending and twisting. The battlefield dissolved into shards of mirrored glass as time broke.
Mordred froze mid-strike.
The edge of his sword halted—mere inches from Arturia's chest—as everything collapsed into reflection.
And from the shatter came a voice. Smooth. Cold. Amused.
"Now now… that's no way to treat your elders.."
Julian emerged from the distortion, his hands folded behind his back, eyes gleaming like mirrors kissed by moonlight.
His armor was cracked.
His movements faltered.
He roared in defiance, but Gilgamesh's chains were already beginning to bind his limbs.
Then—it happened.
A surge of magenta magic burst like a storm cloud into the throne room.
The wind howled.
The very floor trembled.
In the heart of the crumbling stronghold, Morgonna hovered in the air, cloak billowing like smoke, her magic spiraling violently around her.
Mordred stood with bloodied armor and burning eyes, raising his sword toward Roman, whose own blade was locked with another Fae soldier.
Then—CRACK!
Glass exploded from above like a rainfall of diamonds, freezing everyone in place.
Mordred shielded himself, cursing as splinters of the chandelier rained down.
He looked up, scowling.
A voice—elegant, cold, and cruel—echoed through the chaos like a hymn of vengeance.
"Mordred Pendragon… my darling bears bruises from your hands."
Mordred froze. His pupils shrank.
"…Julian?" he muttered, voice shaken. "You're supposed to be dead."
A soft chuckle slithered through the air, laced with menace.
"Perhaps. But you… you're going to wish you were when I'm done with you."
The world shifted.
The battlefield vanished in a pulse of light. The stone floor beneath them warped, bending and rippling into a mirror-like sheen.
All at once, they were encased in a dome of reflections—hundreds of angled shards surrounding them, each one alive, each one whispering.
Mordred spun around, panic rising. " What is this place—"
"Welcome," Julian's voice coiled through every corner of the dimension, "to the Mirror Realm."
Mordred's breath hitched. "Where every nightmare you've ever buried… lives," he continued. "Where every flaw you've hidden is carved into glass. Every failure… every weakness… reemerged for all to see."
The mirrors around Mordred flickered—flashes of him as a child, weeping for a father who abandoned him. Him, standing in the shadows while others were praised. Him, failing in front of Arturia. Unacknowledged. Mordred growled. "Show yourself !"
A ripple in the reflection. And then Julian emerged from it—smooth as shadow and twice as cold. His eyes gleamed like obsidian set aflame.
"I used to be…" he said softly, almost wistfully, "the embodiment of beauty. That was my purpose."
He reached out, dragging a fingertip across one of the mirrors. It fractured slightly, revealing a glimpse of Julian's past: wings of light, soft smiles, a heart open and full.
"These mirrors were meant to be my prison.
My punishment . A reminder of how far I'd fallen… Every. Single. Day."
He turned his gaze back to Mordred—no longer gentle, but sharpened to a point.
"But over time, I realized something."
He stepped closer.
Mordred backed up, heartbeat racing.
"They were right. I do prefer pleasure…over Love."
Julian's grin widened, teeth gleaming like glass shards.
"And there's nothing—nothing—that would pleasure me more… than watching you beg for your life…"
He leaned in, whispering now, a promise made of broken stars.
"…in full view."
The mirrors screamed. And Mordred did too.
But the mirrors only multiplied, closing in around him. The voices in the shards whispered like a thousand serpents— trials, surgeries, rebirths, memories he'd buried deep. He clutched his head. "Shut up—shut up—SHUT UP!"
He dropped to one knee. His sword clattered beside him.
"No wonder Excalibur never chose you," Julian's voice whispered closer now, silk over steel. "You can't even look at yourself… let alone stomach what you've become."
"MAKE IT STOP!" Mordred screamed.
"Very well." he said.
There was a stillness. A moment of silence before divine wrath.
From the shadows behind the mirrors, Julian stepped forward, eyes glowing magenta, his form twisting, bones cracking—
He shifted.
Where once stood a man now towered a beast: a dire wolf, easily ten times the size of a man, white as untouched snow, fur shimmering like moonlight.
His eyes were molten magenta, burning holes through Mordred's soul.
The beast took a step forward, the mirrors bowing in his wake.
Mordred stared up, trembling, broken.
His sword lay forgotten.
His voice, small.
"…Just end it. Please…"
Julian's beast-form lunged, not with haste, but with devastating finality.
Everyone froze.
Even Morgonna paused, her eyes narrowing.
"Mordred?!"
From the heart of the fog stepped Julian—his white coat torn, his face bloodied, but his back straight.
His magenta eyes glowed with purpose .
Mordred was gone.
Scattered.
Disintegrated into the mirror dimension.
"WHERE IS MY SON!" She shouted
Julian did not say a word. He simply stood there, a living executioner returned from death.
A stunned silence swept the throne room.
Then—
Eugene emerged from the smoke. Elaine behind him.
Gasps echoed.
The family—still fighting, still bleeding—felt a strange and sudden peace cut through the chaos like a blade of light.
"Elaine?" Arturia whispered. Her arms wavered with her sword.
Gilgamesh turned his head, eyes wide. "I told you to bring her home," he said to Eugene, voice low, half-chiding.
Elaine, bruised but beaming with fire, stepped forward with a spark in her eye.
"Dad," she said defiantly, "I'm fighting. Whether you like it or not."
Gil huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least wear your—"
"Gloves?" she cut in, flexing her fingers in a pair of golden, rune-etched battle gloves. "Already got them."
Gil stared at her with a mix of exasperation and pride.
"I'll be fine, Daddy," she added softly.
He gave her a slow nod. " Go high."
Elaine turned—and ran into the fray, bow drawn, wind swirling around her.
Rhysand's eyes flicked to Eugene and Juliian.
He blinked. "But… how—?"
Eugene gave a tired smile, blood on his cheek. "I'll explain later."
He glanced toward Julian. "Jules—cover me."
Julian smirked, stepping beside him. "Always, darling."
As the Pendragons assembled—bloodied but burning with defiance—Morgonna's smile began to falter.
Her emerald eyes flicked from Julian, still glowing with eldritch power, to Euegne, who blasted through her arcane wards like wind through silk.
Then to Arturia, still standing—glaring at her with that same unshakable will she'd known since they were girls.
"This wasn't… how it was supposed to go," Morgonna muttered, stepping back.
The air crackled.
Her spell circle shimmered above her, trembling from the pressure of so many wills against her own.
"You Pendragons. Always so sure of yourselves. So perfect. I Curse you all.."
A incantation launched from her hand, but Arturia knocked it aside with one elegant sweep of her sword.
Sparks lit her blonde hair strands like a crown.
"Get in line." She said.
Morgonna sneered .
Elaine dove toward Morgonna's flank, catching her attention with a sweeping wind spell.
Arturia, seeing her chance, slashed with renewed fury.
Julian charged ahead, magenta magic warping reality around him as he summoned mirror walls to block Morgonna'sspells.
Rhysand turned to Eugene " You know what to do kid—"
"Still not.a kid!" He raised his hands, murmured an incantation, and the air rippled.
Gilgamesh grinned. " This ends here. And now."
The Pendragons—united.