Will you give me your vote?

It was an accident. That very kind of accident that no one believes in. That very kind of accident people laugh at. Stupid, absurd, and fake, but an accident. And it happened. Morgana accidentally heard that voice. One of the threads from her hat accidentally touched a small world. The girl never understood how the sound pierced through the Void. But it all happened. The echo of the voice made her heart skip a beat. Curiosity overwhelmed her mind. The girl didn’t even realize how she already reached out towards the world. Her lungs filled with fresh air. The sun pleasantly warmed her skin. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. - “What the…?” Even whispering was difficult. She hadn’t talked to anyone in ages. Her voice was dry, brittle, and raspy. It made her own stomach turn, but that wasn’t important right now. Strange, semi-transparent threads coiled around her slender body. Morgana had to strain her eyes to see them. Though she felt them more than she saw. The threads encircled her, preventing movement. The girl smirked. A mere moment, and a long sword appeared in her hands. The black blade gleamed in the sunlight. One short swing, and Morgana was free. She brushed off the severed thread fragments and took a few steps. She adjusted her hat, as the pearls kept threatening to snag. She had to tread carefully. Her feet kept threatening to get stuck. Morgana hadn’t even managed a couple of steps when a menacing growl sounded behind her. The girl turned her head and frowned. Creatures were crawling out of a tear in the faded fabric. She snorted irritably. The monsters stirred the familiar hatred in her heart. The creatures giggled repulsively, stretching out their ugly paws. They didn’t even realize how the black sword blade sliced their bodies into tiny pieces. The movements were automatic by now. Morgana stood over the tear. She had to take off her hat and toss it aside. The pearls kept threatening to get stuck in the fabric and tangle in it. Tearing someone else’s work was unacceptable. It was, at the very least, impolite, and also dangerous. The girl fell to her knees, pressing her palms against the tear. She needed to weave her energy in carefully and slowly, so as not to burn everything. One minute. A second. A third. They stretched on, seemingly forever. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the beautiful voice that had brought her here. Her heart hammered against her ribs, demanding she follow the sound as fast as possible. Finally, the fourth minute. The fabric was whole again. You couldn’t even tell it had ever been torn. Morgana rose elegantly and walked towards her hat. She had just bent down for the headpiece, closing her eyes and enjoying the melodious voice, when the sound vanished. The girl frowned, scooped up the hat. The long threads flew up, pearls clattering against each other. Irritation consumed Morgana completely. Poisonous, searing, and most importantly, impotent. Alas, she could do nothing but wait.

***

Morgana hated waiting. Hated doing nothing. And she also hated everything she couldn’t have. The girl found the owner of the enchanting voice fairly quickly. Rumi. A lovely girl. Morgana’s heart flooded every time she watched her. And she watched often. No, not quite. Morgana was always watching Rumi. She was always somewhere nearby. Barely restraining herself from approaching. And there were many reasons. The young demon hunter was doing well enough, but she could be better. Morgana could teach her to be better. Rumi had a family. Therefore, she couldn’t interfere. Couldn’t destroy someone else’s life because of her own greed. Yes, greed. Greed and desire. Morgana desired to possess that enchanting voice. The voice that plucked every string of her weary heart. Morgana was sure she could be the best mother for Rumi. She could teach the young huntress so many things. Rumi was a diamond that hadn’t received a perfect enough cut. And then two more appeared, and Morgana was engulfed in darkness. She envied every word Rumi spoke to her friends. She wanted all the attention for herself. Only she couldn’t do anything. All that remained was to watch from afar and sometimes kill demons to let off a little steam. But the creatures were so weak. They crumbled from a light swing of the sword, some even from gusts of wind. Her muscles stiffened. Her heart craved battle. A real one. Bloody. Where veins burst from strain. Where bones broke from blows. Where everything around turned to ruins. And the cold rain would wash away the outcome. But all of that was impossible. The world couldn’t withstand her power. One swing of the sword, and space would tear. Morgana watched from afar, singing along to the songs and imagining Rumi fighting beside her. Or against her. The other two girls were also very good. Mira and Zoe. Morgana tried their names on the tip of her tongue. Ripe, slightly tart raspberry and juicy sweet blueberry. Morgana would like to fight them. One against three. The girls would, of course, lose. That was obvious. She could teach them so much. And then those boys showed up. Those handsome bastards who dared to mess up the lives of her sweet girls. Morgana’s nerves were slowly fraying. She was never known for great patience. And these ratlings were walking on very thin ice. One light swing of her sword would be enough to deal with all of them at once. The little demons wouldn’t even understand when they died. The girl’s heart cracked when the girls quarreled. The fabric began to tear. Morgana wanted to rush to them, shatter her invisibility. But she restrained herself. Dying on the spot, lost in thought. A threatening smile illuminated her beautiful face. Here it was, the chance to get what she had wanted for so long. Simply perfect. The second absurd accident in such a short time. It made her want to laugh out loud. And she would do that later. Morgana laughed at Jinwoo’s confession. So petty. So weak. So irritating. The girl sang along to the boys' songs, not sharing the crowd’s admiration at all. And then the Demon King appeared. Morgana wanted to laugh at the absurdity. She could have finished him off with one strike. But she had no intention of interfering with Rumi. The girls were doing well. Their talent could shine. They could shine. - “From a spark, a flame is born,” - Morgana smirked, feeling the energy wave. But now the moment to intervene had come. The wave of purple fire shattered from a single blow. A gust of wind knocked people off their feet. Rumi somehow miraculously stayed standing. Her eyes widened. - “Who are you?” - “Maybe a friend, maybe an enemy.” The King roared ferociously, but a light swing sliced the flames apart. The monster shrieked in pain. - “I can help, but everything has its price.” One of the demons tried to attack but instantly dissipated. The others hesitated, stepping back. - “What’s the price?” - Rumi tensed, gripping her weapon tighter. - “Your voice.” Mira and Zoe jumped to their friend’s side, ready to leap into battle. -“The choice is yours, Rumi. I can stand by your side,” - Morgana pointed the tip of her blade directly at the girl’s chest, then slowly moved it towards the Demon King, - “or I can join him.” -“No!” - Jinwoo screamed, lunging towards his beloved, but a current of wind flung him back onto the stage, where he crashed through the floor. - “So what have you decided, Rumi,” - Morgana sang, extending her palm, - “will you give me your voice?” The girl tensed, gripped her weapon tighter, and took a step.