⚜ AUTHOR'S NOTE ⚜
Author here. 🥸
This chapter is an edited version of one that I had originally deleted some time ago — 🛠️ Of Death and Defiance (Old). After revisiting it and giving it a much-needed polish, I've reworked the flow to better align with the story's direction and tone. 😁
If you've read this before, I'd encourage you to give it another look, as I believe this new version enhances both the clarity and depth of the scene. 👍
Happy reading! 👍
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⚜ EVENING, 25TH JULY, 1990, THE ASTRAL PLANE ⚜
JASMINE WOKE TO a strange and disorienting sight.
She was seated on a bench in what appeared, unmistakably, to be a train station — yet something about it wasn't quite right. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what felt off, as her thoughts drifted sluggishly, her mind hazy and clouded, as though stuffed with cotton.
It felt as though she were suspended between reality and something altogether different. The eerie stillness of the place only heightened her unease, made stranger by the unsettling absence of any other living soul, at least as far as she could tell.
Where the hell am I? she wondered.
She scanned her surroundings again, this time more carefully, willing her foggy mind to focus, to make sense of her situation. And slowly, as if emerging from a thick mist, her thoughts began to clear.
The hazy, half-familiar surroundings slowly came into focus, sharpening in her mind's eye as a flicker of recognition dawned. She knew this place — famous, iconic, and unmistakable to almost anyone in Magical Britain.
King's Cross Station — or rather... a memory of it. A facsimile. Not quite real — not quite illusion.
How odd, she thought.
"Rather awkward to be meeting you here," a voice drawled suddenly.
Jasmine whirled, every nerve alight, dropping instinctively into a defensive posture. Her eyes locked onto a figure standing a few paces away — a figure that felt both alien and uncannily familiar.
Her breath caught.
The woman looked just like her.
No — not just like her. She had Jasmine's face and form, but twisted into something uncanny and otherworldly. Long, silver hair spilled like liquid starlight down her back. Her skin was pale and porcelain-smooth, too flawless to be natural.
Her eyes… gods, her eyes — deep black irises cradled x-shaped crimson pupils, surrounded by faint, pulsing rings of silvery-red light. Her hands were obsidian, fingers long and elegant, ending in nails that shimmered like wet blood in the half-light.
She wore a sharply tailored black blazer, the lapels and sleeves embroidered with vivid blood-red ornamentation curling around her, paired with sleek, high-waisted black trousers that flared around the ankles.
Beneath the overcoat, a fitted black waistcoat accentuated her silhouette. A loosely knotted black silk tie hung just below her collar. The ensemble was completed by razor-sharp stiletto heels, their glossy sheen catching the faintest glimmers of light.
"Who are you?" Jasmine asked cautiously.
The woman smiled — a lazy, carelessly arrogant, almost malicious smile that seemed to throw all caution to the wind. Rather than answering, she took her time observing Jasmine, her crimson eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
Jasmine glared at her, and the woman chuckled. "No need to be like that, kiddo."
Before Jasmine could even blink, the woman was right in front of her. Sharp, claw-like fingertips grasped Jasmine's chin and tilted her head upward.
I didn't even see her move! Jasmine thought, her mind filled with astonished terror.
"Why, I'm disappointed!" she intoned with theatrical vexation. "Can't even recognize your own ancestral incarnation!"
With a casual flick of her claws, the woman released Jasmine's chin and glided smoothly behind her, a movement so fluid it seemed almost serpentine. Jasmine stiffened, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, but she didn't dare move.
Crouching behind Jasmine, the woman leaned in close whispered softly into her ear, her breath unnervingly cold against Jasmine's skin.
"Who am I?" she murmured softly, her voice rich with dark amusement, each word drifting like a shadowed lullaby. "Mother Dearest named me Mordred Le Fay, the world called me the Knave — but all that was just one lifetime in an endless plethora of them."
She paused, savoring Jasmine's terror as though it were a fine wine.
"And your mother," she added, her voice somehow dropping even lower to a soft, ominous purr, "added yet another name to our little repertoire."
Her hand slid through Jasmine's hair with a possessive gentleness that made her skin crawl — as if Mordred were petting a memory, not a person. The gesture was intimate in a way that felt fundamentally wrong.
"It's been a long time since I've encountered another persona here," Mordred murmured, her voice quieter now — almost wistful. "It gets… lonely."
The words hung in the air like frost on glass. There was no sorrow in her tone, no vulnerability — only a hollow echo. Jasmine swallowed hard. She could feel the way Mordred watched her — not like a reflection in a mirror, but like a predator studying a younger version of itself.
Then Mordred tilted Jasmine's chin upward again, slow and deliberate leaving Jasmine's throat bared. "Why so late, kiddo?"
Jasmine swallowed, trying to calm herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mordred wearing a smug smirk. She pursed her lips, mustering what bravado she could.
"Well," she said coolly, voice steadier than she felt, "I don't usually drop in on deranged doppelgängers whispering cryptic nonsense in haunted train stations."
Mordred's smirk widened — slow and shark-like.
"Oho," she purred, amused. "There she is."
Unfolding herself from her crouch behind Jasmine, she stepped back slightly, her movement languid and predatory, as though she were a serpent circling its prey, deciding whether to strike or toy with it.
"You do have a tongue," she observed, her voice laced with mock fondness. "I was beginning to worry you'd inherited only the fear, not the fire."
Jasmine's stomach churned. She clenched her fists, every inch of her being screaming to lash out, but she stayed still, fighting the overwhelming urge to flee. Her eyes narrowed, keeping locked on her unnatural double.
"I'm not afraid of you," she lied. Nothing about any of this made sense, but she'd at least maintain some dignity.
"Oh, darling…" Mordred leaned in again, her voice a velvet coil wrapping around Jasmine's ears. "You should be."
Jasmine swallowed hard, struggling to steady her breath. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice firm. "You've been talking in riddles and cryptic nonsense without even offering the courtesy of etiquette."
Mordred's smile curled wider, dark amusement dancing in her eyes. "Ah, I do tend to forget my manners when I'm so… caught up in things," she drawled, her voice silk-smooth and mocking.
Then, with an exaggerated flourish, she dipped into a mocking curtsy. "Hello, Error."
Jasmine looked at Mordred with confusion and curious dread adorning her face. "Error?"
Mordred merely tilted her head, remaining silent. Before Jasmine could speak, the distant wail of a train whistle resounded as it cut through the air, followed by the deep, rhythmic rumble of an approaching train. Both of them shifted their attention to the sound.
The air trembled with the sheer force of the oncoming train, each pounding wheel sending deep, rhythmic vibrations through the ground. Steam and shadows curled in its wake, thick and cloying, as if the train were dragging the night itself along with it.
Jasmine's breath hitched. There was something wrong about it — something beyond its size and speed. The way the headlights cut through the mist, swallowing rather than illuminating. The way its silhouette flickered, shifting like a mirage.
"Isn't it a beauty?" Mordred murmured.
Jasmine didn't answer. She wasn't sure if she even could. The train howled, a shrill, unnatural cry, and for the briefest moment, the world felt off-kilter — as if the very fabric of reality had twisted. Then, with a shuddering screech, it slowed before coming to a halt in front of them.
Mordred chuckled, low and inscrutable as she casually nudged Jasmine forward. "Time to board, kiddo."
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