#tsofph morgana

Viridi: Of course. Everyone said I was never meant to exist. What else did you expect?

Envy: Listen… I know it’s not my business, but… why do you stay with someone broken like me?

A quiet hill beneath an ancient village. Merlina stands before Morgana—Ermelinda to a few— her spirit wavering like mist. The silence between them is soft, not uneasy.

Ermelinda: …A ghost. *A faint, bitter smile crosses her face.* A ghost… like me? Tell me, Merlina…As someone who admires the God of Death…Do you think even he would wish for someone like me to keep living? Someone whose life has already become little more than a lingering spirit?

Merlina: When people hear my name…They think of my grandfather. The great wizard Merlin. I was created because of him. His name…His legacy…Even the expectations placed upon me were never truly mine. Sometimes I wondered…Was I ever meant to exist as Merlina? Or was I simply another shadow cast by Merlin?

Ermelinda: …....

Merlina: If my existence began because someone else willed it… Does that make my life any less real? Do I deserve to disappear simply because I was created? *She smiles softly.* Or… Do I deserve to live because I learned to choose my own path?

Ermelinda: *turns her head to Merlina* You deserve to exist!

Merlina: My lady?

Ermelinda: Without question. Every mage…Every soul born through magic…Every life touched by magic…Deserves the chance to decide who they become. No one should be condemned simply because of how they came into this world.

Merlina: Then…My lady… What about you? Why are you the only exception? You say every magic user deserves to exist. You defend strangers. You comfort wandering spirits. You forgive those who curse themselves. Yet when it comes to your own life…You refuse yourself the same kindness. Why?

Ermelinda: Because…I've made too many mistakes. Too many people suffered because of my choices. A ghost should not cling to the world forever.

Merlina: Perhaps. But ghosts do not remain because they are evil. They remain because something still calls to them. Regret. Love. Hope. Or a promise left unfinished.

Ermelinda: …..........

Merlina: You asked whether the God of Death would desire you to live. Maybe…That isn't the question. Perhaps the question is…If Death himself guides souls home…Would he not wish for you to find peace as well? Not through punishment. Not through endless wandering. But through acceptance.

Ermelinda: Acceptance…For someone like me?

Merlina: Yes. Because home is not a place reserved only for heroes. It is also where broken souls are finally allowed to rest. I will say again.....Even ghosts… Deserve to find their way home.

Ermelinda closes her eyes. For the first time in centuries, the weight she carries seems just a little lighter.

Punch: Uh-huh. You let a white dragon, Aithusa go. You create Dark Link, and in the end, you saved Pit... then, for some reason, you teleported us to the Babylon era... after Mordred killed Arthur, Merlin killed you, and you were revived by Kujaku. You're Ermelinda, Queen of the Ghosts. And? You still wish to kill Arthur?

Morgana: Yes. King Arthur will rise again, and when he does, I will settle things with him once and for all. Pendragon was the one who wanted to wipe out all of my kind. Why do we, as magic users, deserve to be killed?

Punch: No....even Jews never deserve to be killed...and neither do you,...because...If there is evil in this world, it lurks in the hearts of men.

Punch: Magic users aren’t evil. And Black people were never born to be slaves. The blame belongs to cruel laws and hateful people — never to the way someone is born. I hate humans, and even Camelot failed at the end of its era. The war will continue, and people will die.

Morgana: So… what can I do for this world to accept my kind… or Jews, as you said…? You are also different, like me — like an outsider. Both you and I are ashamed of how we were born, as if it were a curse. Is there a way for me to live without having to hide who I am? I have been betrayed too many times to count. By allies. By cowards. By those who feared my heart more than my magic. Bit by bit, they hollowed me out. So tell me... what is left to keep fighting for?

Punch: There is still hope.....Morgana.....can you help us like in my shadow? And one day, I will save you from your hatred.

Morgana: Why do you care about me?

Punch: Because we're friends when we're with Gwen. Don't you care about her?

Morgana: ...................

Punch: Also... thank you for saving Pit. Even though he's not fully human yet, this time you and Merlin worked together, and Pit finally got to live as a human.

Morgana: I only did it because... I don't want to lose anyone I care about again.

Punch: Arthur... he made many mistakes, just like you. Actually... he's a lot like you. Can't you forgive him? I know I won't, that's for sure, but you must.

Morgana: As long as this world calls us sinners, Arthur is a sinner too—for being Uther’s son!

Punch: Well... yeah, fair point. Can’t argue with that one. Guess the family tree really said, “Let’s make it everyone’s problem,” huh?

Morgana: Punch, you should hurry back to King Gilgamesh. He’s probably waiting for you.

Punch: Can you go by yourself?

Morgana: Merlin can manage on his own. If that chaos magnet can survive unsupervised for five minutes, so can I. If Merlin can pull it off without the world collapsing, then I imagine I can as well.

Punch: Wow.....

Morgana: I will wait for King Arthur to rise again. And when that day comes, we will settle everything once and for all.

An animated video made by Pixverse AI. Based on my art.

Viridi: I am such a moron....!

Envy: Are you running away?

An animated video made by Pixverse AI. Based on my art.

The sky tore itself open. A burning asteroid screamed through the heavens, dragging a tail of fire across the twilight like a scar being carved into the world. The air trembled. Oceans pulled back as if the planet itself feared what was coming.

At the centre of a shattered plain, Viridi stood unmoving. Green light began to bloom beneath her feet.

Envy: Viridi… that thing isn’t falling—it’s hunting us!

Envy skidded across the fractured stone, breath ragged, eyes locked on the descending catastrophe. Wind howled past him in violent spirals, tugging at his cloak.

Viridi: It’s not ‘us’ it wants, it’s me.!!

The ground cracked.

Roots of glowing emerald energy erupted outward, spiraling around her like serpents awakening from a thousand-year sleep. A distant thunder answered him—the asteroid breaking through the last layer of sky. Flames painted the world in orange ruin.

Viridi finally raised her hand. The air bent.

Envy: You’re not doing this alone!

He surged forward, planting himself between her and the falling star. A reckless, desperate shield. The heat intensified. Stones lifted into the air around them, caught in the gravitational fury. Viridi’s magic flared. It wasn’t just power anymore—it was transformation. Her hair lifted as if submerged in water, glowing strands turning into threads of living light. Symbols—ancient, forbidden—etched themselves into the air around her, spinning into a vast arcane circle that stretched across the sky. Like a witch rewriting the rules of existence. Like something even the stars would fear. Envy glanced upward—the descending mass now impossibly close, its fire reflecting in his eyes. The magic shifted. The violent green glow softened—yet grew infinitely denser. A barrier began to form—not a wall, but a living horizon of energy, pulsing like a heartbeat between them and the sky.

“I protect.”

The asteroid collided.

Silence.

For a fraction of a second, the universe held its breath.

Then—

A deafening impact slammed into Viridi’s barrier.

Light exploded outward in a blinding wave. The ground beneath them shattered into floating fragments, suspended in the force of the clash.

Envy braced himself, pushing forward with everything he had.

“Viridi!!”

Cracks spread across the barrier.

The fire pressed harder.

The world screamed.

The flames, the force, the destruction—drawn into her magic like a storm swallowed by the ocean.

The asteroid slowed.

Cracked.

Then—silently—disintegrated into drifting embers that scattered across the sky like fading stars.

The light vanished. The world fell still.

Ash floated gently where destruction had once been inevitable.

Viridi: See?

Envy: Don’t make it a big deal.

Viridi looked back at the quiet sky. For the first time, there was no threat above them.

An animated video made by Google Veo 3 AI.

Ermelinda: I-I don’t like Homura at all! Homura doesn’t even talk to you politely in front of me. Why is she always so cold? A scary devil witch like that… no one could ever trust her! And I really, really don’t like how gently you take care of her!

Danny: Morgana… let me tell you a story, okay? Back when I was half human, half ghost… I met a tiny, shy girl who was always lying in a hospital bed. She was so quiet and fragile that it felt like she might disappear if you touched her too roughly. Madoka was always by Homura’s side, taking care of her like the sweetest best friend in the world.

Ermelinda: That's Homura?

Viridi: What happened when that person was the last left that you trusted and in the end everything I gave him all vanished in front of your eyes.

Punch: The chronicles of Merlin say that Morgana died by Merlin’s hand. Yes, she did die by Merlin's hands once, but she was relieved by Kujaku. After Camelot already failed, I stop Merlin and ask Morgana to save Pit. Morgana is no longer Merlin's enemy, but oneday Morgana needs to clear her past when she will be able to meet Syaoran again.

When the blade pierced her heart, Morgana felt not pain—but silence. Merlin’s face above her blurred, not with hatred, but with something softer. Regret. Destiny. Inevitability.

Darkness swallowed her. But the darkness was not empty.

Kujaku: You were never meant to end here.

Morgana did not beg. She did not cry. She had done that long ago in Camelot, when prayers still meant something. She rose again—not as the woman Camelot feared, not as Uther’s secret daughter, not as Arthur’s enemy. She rose as Ermelinda, Queen of the Ghosts.

Immortal. Untouchable. Unforgiven. Her heart no longer beat with warmth but with a cold, measured rhythm. Love was abandoned. Prayer was abandoned. Hope was abandoned.

In their place: Cursed power. But this power was not cruel. It was gentle.

Terribly gentle.

It did not burn kingdoms—it preserved them. It did not scream—it endured. It did not demand love—it sacrificed it.

Yet every time she used it, someone else paid. Every act of protection costs a memory, a soul, a fragment of light. The gentleness of her power came at the cost of those around her. And so the world called her insane.

They called her:

Witch.

Tyrant.

Abomination.

Ghost Queen.

She accepted every word, because none of them saw the truth.

Every cruel decision she made was to shield the fragile past she still protected—the girl who once loved Camelot.

The Morgana who cared for servants. The Morgana who wept for executed sorcerers. The Morgana who believed kindness could change kings.

That girl was buried beneath ice.

But not dead.

Never dead.

She fought hundreds of battles. She was betrayed hundreds of times. Those who swore loyalty stabbed her in the back to preserve their rank. Those who praised her power feared her humanity. Those who claimed to protect her throne sold pieces of it for safety. Each betrayal carved something out of her. She began to feel like a rotten intestine—twisted, festering, unable to heal.

What was the point of fighting on?

What was the reward for enduring?

She protected kingdoms from unseen horrors. She absorbed curses so villages could sleep peacefully. She silenced demons before they could whisper madness into children’s dreams.

And yet—

No one believed.

No one understood.

Morgana—Ermelinda—stood alone beneath a sky without stars.

Not defeated.

Not forgiven.

Not understood.

But still fighting.

Because even if no one sees it—

She remembers who she used to be.

And that is something even darkness cannot take away.

Purple smoke coils across the broken cliffs. Feathers drift like fallen memories. Camelot is already gone. Not burning — just… silent. Punch or I step through the violet haze, her silhouette cutting through the darkness. In the distance stands Morgana — not the tyrant of Camelot, not the High Priestess feared in whispers — but a queen wrapped in guilt heavier than any crown. Kujaku, god of shadowed rebirth, lifted her from the abyss and bound her to a throne of ghosts. Immortal. Watching. Enduring.

Yet immortality does not erase regret.

Ermelinda: I destroyed everything. Arthur. Camelot. Merlin’s faith. I cannot undo what I became. Punch: You were broken long before you broke anything. And Merlin… he never truly hated you, right? Merlin: Right.

Punch: The smoke swirls harder, reacting to Morgana’s trembling magic. For centuries, she believed Merlin struck her down out of betrayal. For centuries, she sharpened that belief into revenge.

“You both were victims of the same story.”

Silence.

The feathers fall between them. The Queen of Ghosts closes her eyes. She remembers being alone in that void. She remembers wanting someone — anyone — to reach for her.

Ermelinda: You would trust me?

I nods.

“You’re not Merlin’s enemy anymore. You’re not Arthur’s shadow. You’re Morgana. And you still choose what you become.”

The words land deeper than any blade.

After helping me save Pit… after facing the truth about Merlin… after finally loosening her grip on revenge — something inside her shifted.

The story of her continues in the fake world. There are cracks between worlds — reflections, false heavens, unfinished dreams. A place where memories become landscapes and regrets become cities.

That is where she found him.

e was no hero.

He was not righteous.

He carried sin on his shoulders like armor. His smile had teeth in it. His past was stained darker than her own.

They called him Envy.

A villain.

A manipulator.

A man who trusted no one.

And yet—

He chose her.

At first she pushed him away.

“Loyalty is a weakness,” she told him.

He only laughed softly.

“So is pretending you don’t want it.”

He saw through her coldness. Through the queen. Through the curse. Through the centuries of armor.

He saw the girl who once prayed for kindness.

And he did not flinch.

"I won’t abandon you. I won’t die and let you go.”

In the end, Morgana — once feared as Camelot’s ruin — found something no prophecy had written.

Someone who stayed.

Someone who chose her.

Even if he was a villain.

Even if the world was false.

Even if love bloomed in a broken reality.

For a woman who had been betrayed a hundred times—

One unwavering voice was enough.

And in the quiet after the storm, the Queen of Ghosts was no longer alone.

Not forgiven.

Not rewritten.

But finally—

Punch: Oh yeah? Then why is your body thin, short, and shaped like a dehydrated carrot stick?

Ermelinda: …………………HUH?! HUHHHHHHH?!?!

Punch: Also, I don’t remember you being useful in tight spots at all. Good with a sword, yeah, but running? Hopeless. You run like your knees are borrowed.

Ermelinda: That has NOTHING to do with anything! Are you— savage words censored by the gods?!

Punch: WHAT IS THAT?! That’s not even related!! 💢And your body—what’s THAT supposed to be, huh?!

Ermelinda: Oh yeah?! At least MY proportions make sense! You look like someone mashed an action figure and a plush toy together!

Punch: Bold words from someone whose body looks like it was designed by a sleep-deprived blacksmith who forgot how humans are shaped!

Ermelinda: At least my body looks intentional! You look like someone tried to sculpt a hero out of clay… then dropped it halfway and said, “Eh, good enough.”

Punch: Intentional? Please. Your body looks like it was designed by a blacksmith who only had three hours of sleep and one functioning brain cell.

Ermelinda: Hah! You talk like your shoulders weren’t built by stacking two different action figures on top of each other. Your limbs are so mismatched, I swear you came out of the factory as a limited edition manufacturing error.

Punch: Oh, that’s rich coming from YOU—with your hips so narrow I could use them as a bookmark! And your arms? They look like someone installed them upside-down and forgot to fix it!

Ermelinda: At least my body has BALANCE! You? You’re walking around like a plush doll someone overstuffed on the left side and forgot to sew on the right!

Punch: Balance? You lean forward so much when you walk, you look like you’re permanently fighting gravity. I’ve seen wet laundry stand straighter than you!

Ermelinda: SAYS YOU—with a torso shaped like a rectangle and legs shaped like “Oops, I ran out of time!”

Punch: And you’ve got a cape that looks like it was stolen from a discount Halloween store! Is it supposed to be intimidating, or are you moonlighting as a curtain?!

Ermelinda: Better a curtain than whatever you are—a glitching character model that forgot to load its textures!

Punch: GLITCH?! You’re just jealous because even glitches move smoother than you do!

Ermelinda: A–are you a MOM?!

Punch: ARE YOU A MOM?!

Punch & Ermelinda: KYA KYA KYA KYA KYA KYA!!!