‟You're offering me a deal?” The knight asked.

‟In a sense,” The god of destiny, Moira, answered with a mirrored reflection of her within the white void. ‟An explanation is needed, I assume. I have the ability to weave fate. To shift destiny itself. With my help and a little time and planning, I can give you anything.”

‟Anything?”

‟That's right. The commander for The Knight of the Round? At your age, I'm sure you must be thinking about a legacy.” Moira circled around her. ‟Or do you want peace for all of the Tinderlands? A noble aspiration that I can grant with the right strings.”

‟Mighty tempting.” Merylin raised a curious brow.

After Morgan had stabbed the mayor, she had appeared into the white void suddenly, and had to quickly piece together all that she was experiencing. The creature before her, calling themselves Moira, seemed to be the same being that had taken partial control over Mayor Soira during their fight.

Moira smiled. ‟What say you, Merylin Ambrosius?”

Merylin shrugged. ‟Sounds nice, but I'll be honest. I never really liked playing games.”

‟Maybe you would prefer the chance to solve the puzzle of a lifetime?”

‟Oh, now that is an absolutely tasty offering,” Sherl Octavia replied, circling around her own doppelgänger in the white void. ‟We could call it, ‟The Great Game”! John would love that title. Perfect for his little collection.”

‟Then I guess we have a deal.” Moira was about to raise their hand to shake out the contract when they were interrupted.

‟Nope! No deal. That's not good enough!”

The god raised an eyebrow. ‟And why is it not?”

‟No no no. You're not asking the right question. Are all gods as stupid as you? If they are, I hazard to think what kind of morons would let you even have a footing on our world.” Sherl reached into her coat and took out a straw of gravestick to chew on its leaf, an action which brought a look of surprise to Soira's face. ‟Oh, don't give me that look. This is a mind palace of sorts, isn't it? It's not real. The entire effect is placebo. I can create anything I want here.”

The detective reached into her pocket and started pulling out sticks after sticks of the illicit drug, tossing the impossible number of them onto the floor where they sank into the white as if falling eternally into gravity.

Moira turned their attention back to their goal. ‟What did you mean by me not asking the right question?” The doppelgänger was not capable of emoting like a person, but it would be close to call its expression confused.

‟The correct question to ask would be...” She paused, having finished her chew. She snapped the leaf off and spat the remainder out. With just the stalk, she lit a fire with her fingers and set the tail end alight to smoke the remainder. ‟What's your limit?”

‟What?” The god was genuinely confused now.

‟You asked me for a deal to share possession of my body, like you did with Soira. I'm guessing that's your game. You gods love your games and your little rules, playing with our lives like pieces on a board. Don't get me wrong, my utmost respect. I can recognise my peers in that regard. But if you're asking just me and I said no, that would be a pretty shit rule. You would have lost, just like that. So you must be dealing with more than just amazing me.”

Moira cocked their head investigatively, like a bird examining a bug on a tree.

Sherl barrelled through. ‟However, if you could just throw out this void of trade to anyone in the world without limit, you would never lose your game, and I know how much you gods love your rules.”

The detective gestured to their empty surrounding dramatically. To her then, the white was beginning to strain her eyes, even if she knew it was all happening in her mind. After all, her body was in no real shape to move around with much aplomb in the real world, given the damage it had taken. It felt like a fog was starting to descent on her mind, and she was unsure if it was the god's effect or the latency of unconsciousness from the damage her body had suffered.

‟So it stands to reason if you cannot do this limitlessly, you must therefore have a limit. Distance would factor in, of course. Otherwise, the chance of you picking me, a person who just a moment ago told you to screw, would be pretty slim. Probably just the people around you. The people who killed you, even. That means you have asked what? Merylin? Morgan? Me? That's a lot of enemies. Are you a masochist, oh god of destiny? No, no, even you're not that masochistic to put yourself through a barrage of adversaries, so probably just distance.”

If wax statues could grimace, that would be what the doppelgänger did. ‟Very astute. As expected on one who bears the great detective's moniker. Though that only reinforces my point.”

‟You had one?”

‟Even now you're feeding your addiction. The gravesticks, the solve. You thrill after puzzles and distractions the same way us gods do. You need to occupy your mind with something at all time, and here I am offering that to you. The great game. I can arrange an adversary that will finally match you wit for wit. I can give you the satisfaction of the greatest puzzle.”

Sherl went quiet, her eyes glazing over in thought. She took a deep puff of her imaginary gravestick and let out a plume of smoke through her nostrils.

‟That was good. You almost got me,” she admitted. ‟But we're not the same. You don't seem to understand that the game isn't fun if it's rigged.”

When Moira finally reacted, there was a tinge to expression that was not there before. What was it? Annoyance? It was difficult to tell given their inhuman personality and expression. Everything was just a little off.

But when it spoke, its voice wavered. ‟I can see you. You want to be normal.”

Morgan could not help rubbing the palm of her right hand against itself. It felt great to be able to do so, to feel her own skin, even if it was in whatever dream scape she was in.

‟Your face. Your humanity,” Moira continued, ‟I can give you that.”

‟How?” she asked bluntly.

‟You'll have to deal with me to find out.”

‟And in return, what? I let you use my body to win your little game with your little gods?”

‟That is all I ask.”

Morgan was already determined to reject it. Sure, a life without her deformity would be nice, but the cost is potentially too great. The games of the gods are known to cost lives, to cost empires. But still...

She looked up to her doppelgänger, a crusted version of herself. Was that how she really looked to the eyes of others? If so, she too would recoil. Or would she? No, she would not. Monsters aren't born, after all. She would never judge another person the way they judged her. Or at least, she hoped she would not

‟Do not worry,” Moira voiced. ‟Take all the time you need to consider your decision.”

Patronization. That's what that was. She was being looked down on, like all the times she had been prejudiced against in the world. She hated it. Maybe it would be fine for her to strike up a deal. For once, show the world for the monsters they are.

‟Are you able to do the reverse instead?” Morgan asked. ‟Make everyone else look like me?”

A lopped grin. ‟Of course.”

How bad could it be? Soira struck a deal, and the only outcome was a serial killer. But that was just because of the mayor's bloodlust. She wasn't like him. She just wanted to teach the world a lesson. Moira did not seem to have the same destructive capabilities as the god of darkness or the god of the peninsula. She could control them. She was strong.

Moira then added, ‟You may have been born a monster, dear knight. But I assure you, I can make you into a hero.”

It was sudden, but the fog lifted. She had not even realized it was there and that the god had cast some kind of spell over her to cloud her judgement. No, to pull out the inner darkness within her. Those thoughts, however abhorrent to Morgan, was still her own. But they said the words.

‟You said the words,” Morgan repeated her thoughts with a sigh. ‟You almost had me, but you said the words.” She cannot hide the slight disappointment in her voice at losing a chance of looking normal.

She nailed into the skin of her right arm and violently pulled. She felt no pain as the skin tore off like paper, revealing the cracked epidermal underneath. Moira's eyes sagged into a clear anger.

‟Almost. You almost had me somehow. But you got greedy, didn't you? Wanted to sink your claws deeper.” Morgan then removed the false skin from her hand as if taking off a glove, revealing the monstrous shape beneath. ‟Nobody is born a monster. If you belief otherwise, then we will never be on the same side. Whatever your game is, I will stop you myself.”

Moira now growled. ‟You think I fear you simply from this one thwarting? I will ruin everything you hold dear.”

‟How would you do that after you're dead? Unless there are more of you.”

The god did not speak, seemingly realizing that they had given away information they did not intend to.

‟There are!” Morgan laughed. ‟Well then, tell the other yous that I'll gladly meet with them and rid Tearha of one more scheming god myself.”

‟You cannot run from destiny, Morganna Dresden. If you do not wish to be a hero, than I shall punish you by turning you into the villain you were always destined to be. The witch. The traitorous child. Your moniker defines your destiny.”

The knight flipped the god. ‟Come what may, bitch.”