Morgana leaned in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, a slow curl of smoke trailing from a silver incense bowl beside her. The scent—opium and crushed orchid—hung thick in the air, twisting around her words as she spoke.
"You know, it wasn't always villas and velvet," she began, voice smooth as silk soaked in venom. "I started beneath neon lights and sewer steam. Street tech, quick fingers, smarter than every deadbeat hacker selling trash to mobsters. I learned how to make the city listen—how to make it obey."
She stood, pacing now, barefoot over the polished floor, the hem of her white silk robe whispering behind her like a ghost.
"First, I broke codes. Then people. The trick was understanding: they want to be controlled. You give them peace. Purpose. No one wants freedom. They want the illusion of it."
HeartEater stood like a statue in the ruin of the entrance hall, blood drying on his gloves, the faint red line still trailing down his side. His mask caught the chandelier's flicker like a warning light.
"You always talk," he growled, voice low and tired. "Always performing."
She turned, slow, amused. "Darling, you break through my men like a plague and I'm the one performing?"
He didn't flinch. "I've seen the bodies. The ones with the wires in their skulls. The children in storefronts, glassy-eyed with smiles you programmed. You turned a city into puppets."
She raised her brow. "Puppets are harmless. Efficient. Better than chaos."
"Innocent people," he said, fists clenched. "You used them."
"Innocent?" Morgana laughed—rich, sharp, and joyless. "You still believe in that word? You're adorable." She stepped closer, head tilting. "There is no innocence. Just unused potential. And children? Please. Most are born with cruelty in their marrow. I just refined it."
She reached inside her robe, pulling free a small black device—sleek, with a single blinking red light.
"You tried to stop a robbery last week, didn't you?" she asked, tapping the device. "Poor souls—barely more than husks. That mother who screamed at you with her toddler still strapped to her chest? Those stings you felt—little pinpricks at the base of your neck? You didn't think to check what they were?"
HeartEater's muscles twitched. His hand moved halfway to his nape—but froze.
"I was testing a new transmitter," she said sweetly. "Short range. Organic-coded. You absorbed it trying to save people. Isn't that poetic?"
She pressed the button.
At first, nothing.
Then—
Ringing. Not in his ears. In his bones.
A scream—not from his throat, but from the marrow inside him. A shriek of frequencies that tore memory from meaning. His knees buckled. He dropped one hand to the ground to steady himself, sickles clattering to the floor beside him.
He tried to breathe.
No pain. Worse.
It was the void before pain. The sound of language being ripped from thought, the chaos between heartbeat and silence. He covered his ears but heard it louder. He clenched his eyes but saw more.
Morgana laughed, stepping back to watch him fall to his knees.
"Isn't it glorious?" she sang. "The way you fight it? All that strength, all that rage—and look at you now. Bent. Twitching. A broken dog."
Minutes passed like hours.
And then the noise stopped.
It didn't fade—it ceased. Like a knife suddenly gone from flesh.
HeartEater's body hung limp, breath rattling, trembling in the aftershock.
Morgana approached slowly. Her bare feet made no sound on the marble. She crouched beside him, close enough that her perfume mingled with blood and sweat.
She tilted her head, studying him like a child might a wounded bird. "You're useless now," she whispered. "All muscle. No will. I expected more, truly."
She stood again, adjusting her robe.
"I have work to do."
With a flick of her wrist, she summoned the hallway doors to part. She stepped through into a vault-lit corridor humming with electronic life. At the far end: the lab. Glowing glass screens. Rows of headsets cradled in cold steel.
"Time for version 2.0," she called over her shoulder. "Tomorrow, the city upgrades... and nobody gets a choice."
The heavy security door slid shut behind her, sealing with a hiss.
Darkness swallowed the entrance hall.
And then—
In the silence—
A single finger on HeartEater's hand twitched.