Shadow Slave

Mordret felt relieved because no matter how thoroughly he had deluded himself, deep down, he always understood what kind of monster the Dreamspawn was, and what kind of future awaited him if he stayed by Asterion’s side.

Instead of regret, he eventually found himself full of quiet hope, anticipation, and timid excitement. He tried to repress these feelings, not wishing to be hurt all over again… but in the end, they refused to be extinguished and slowly grew to conquer his heart.

Mordret thought that since his time with Asterion had come to an end, and the deal his father had struck with Asterion was complete, he could return home… to Valor. He imagined being welcomed with open arms, enjoying the affection of his true family, and finally being in a place where he truly belonged.

After all, he was the Prince of War. He had conquered the First Nightmare at the tender age of twelve and emerged from its jaws as a master of a Divine Aspect. Certainly, his father, the King, could not wish for a more worthy heir… and, therefore, the future was bright.

Reality, of course, shattered his naive optimism completely.

It didn’t take Mordret long to realize that he was not welcome in the Great Clan Valor. His father, who had disliked him before, now treated him with open contempt. The elders of the clan and the members of the branch families were wary of him and knew that he was not favored by the king. The retainers of the clan found him eerie, and preferred to stay away.

Soon, Mordret swiftly became an outcast in the royal court. He was not the proud heir of Clan Valor or the Prince of War. He was barely a prince, really…

At best, he was the prince of nothing. Having been rejected for the third time in his short life, Mordret finally understood that he would never belong anywhere. It was not because of how he acted, how he behaved, or because he did not try enough and went about trying in the wrong way. It was simply due to his nature.

His nature was not like that of other people, and people despised nothing more than those who were other.

So, for the first time, Mordret abandoned his desire to be accepted and acknowledged — by his father, by Asterion, or by anyone else. Rejecting the notion of relying on others and having imprisoned his seventh self in the Great Mirror, he drifted through his days aimless and alone.

He reflected the world back on itself and became just as cruel, indifferent, and callous. Eventually, he imagined that he wanted to become just as strong, as well… strong enough to be self-sufficient and never have to depend on anyone. To be beholden to no one.

Only to himself.

Sadly, Clan Valor had other plans.

The King and his people were already wary of Mordret because of his eerie nature and because of his terrifying potential. Since they were already struggling to control him, what would they do if he went further on the Path of Ascension? Mordret already made them feel threatened… for a good reason, perhaps… but at least he could be dealt with.

What if he grew too strong to be contained? So, they forbade him from challenging the Second Nightmare and withdrew all support. Only a madman would dare to challenge a Seed alone, so they judged him to be sufficiently under control and tried to appease him as a distraction instead. However, Mordret would not be appeased. Instead, he sent himself into a voluntary exile on the Chained Isles and settled in the Sanctuary of Noctis. The White Feather clan was a vassal of Clan Valor, but their young matriarch was aloof and known for shunning the royal court, so he was afforded a great degree of freedom in her fief.

There, Mordret went about preparing for the exact thing he was forbidden from attempting — for challenging the Seed of Nightmare.

His preparations were eventually revealed, even if he did not know it at the time. He only found out about it when the Knights of Valor ambushed him, and cold steel pierced his heart.

Mordret was supposed to die there and then, the glorious tale of the first wielder of a Divine Aspect coming to an inglorious and distasteful end…

But Mordret did not die. Because even if his father had decided to have him killed, nobody possessed the means of killing him. The Knights of Valor tried and failed, the elders of the clan tried and failed… and the King of Swords himself failed, as well. Mordret’s body was destroyed. His soul was destroyed, too, but he refused to perish. That was because he wielded a Divine Aspect, and his nature was not like that of other people. He was not entirely human — so, to humans, he was the dreaded other. Humans possessed a soul, a body that served as its vessel, a mind that was its conduit, a spirit that was the driving force of all three, and a shadow that carried its death. That and the spark of the Flame that was the source of it all were the sum of one’s being.

Mordret, however, was made of one more component. His soul, his shadow, his spirit… all of them were mere expressions of his reflection. In fact, he was first and foremost a reflection — a reflection of a human, but a reflection nevertheless.

It was his true self, his reflection, that entered a living being’s soul to destroy it and took control of the being’s body. That was why soul duels were so perilous for Mordret — they were the only time when the true core of his being entered a plane where anyone could wound or destroy it, and he was therefore as mortal as everyone else.

But back then, Clan Valor did not know it yet. So even when his father had his body and soul destroyed, the reflection remained.

Even the King of Swords did not possess a blade capable of vanquishing the Others… at least he did not in that distant past. He was quite adept at runic sorcery, though, so he managed to build a prison for his son, whom he had failed to kill.

That was how Mordret ended up being invited for a prolonged stay in the Night Temple.