"BUT you still haven't told me how have you came to the conclusion you are not fey?" Tristan and Guinevere almost reached the lake and he broke the silence.

"I put two and two together." she lied, the idea of her not being fey would have never crossed her mind if it wasn't for The Weeping Monk. "My magic wasn't necessary connected to the nature and you said I'm from somewhere far. "

" Yeah, but still. " Tristan wasn't buying this, he knew his sister too well.

" Look, we are already here." she said, gladly. Guinevere didn't really wanted her brother to know about her meeting with The Monk, they have just been reunited, there was no need for worries.

" Take care, sister. ." he said.

"Take care as well, brother." Guinevere watched as Tristan left waveringly. She then got closer to the lake, taking out her knife. To invoke the Three High Priestesses you had to pay in blood.

She was hesitant, Guinevere despised physical pain, or any kind of pain. But at the same time she wanted to know more about herself, she wanted to know what she actually was, who her birth parents were. The girl took one last look at the knife's blade before cutting her own palm.

Her crimson blood falled into the lake, changing its color. From crystal clear, it turned into a muddy color, the lake was no longer tranquil, but turbid. Guinevere stood up, sqeezing her bloody hand, waiting for something to happen.

"You have summoned us, young Shadow Lord." Shadow Lord?

She turned around at the of sound of a ghostly, ancient voice. Behind her, there were three women. All of them looked the same, dusty white robes with hoods that were hiding their faces completely.

"Don't stay silent, Shadow Lord. Speak." demanded another of them.

"Why do you keep calling me a Shadow Lord?" Guinevere was confused, she couldn't be a Shadow Lord, they were powerful and she was, well, herself.

"You have come to us to solve the mistery of your heritage, of your origin. You are half Shadow Lord." she was stunned. A Shadow Lord was not even on the list of possibilities for her. Shadow Lords were creatures of power and greed, dark magical beings.

"But how?"

"It's in your blood, child."

"I can't be. It's impossible. How?"

"You are the only living offspring of the first Shadow Lord. The Great Theodore." Her heart stopped for a second. The Great Theodore? That was bloody mad. She could remember the stories about him, she could remember clearly the first time Raphael had told her this legend.

"It's time for bed, Guin."

"But daddy, you haven't told me a story yet." the small girl with blue-green eyes said sheepishly. A younger version of Raphael chuckled at his daughter, covering her with a blanket.

"I'll tell you about the Great Theodore, a man as old as time." he began, earning the girl's curiousity.  "He was just a simple merchant once. He had a family like every other man. A beautiful wife, two healthy and jovial children and a small, yet cozy cottage."

Little Guinevere was listening with interest, it was hard to get her attention, but this time, for some unknown reason, she was simply so invested.

" One day, his fate twisted. Life turned against him. His two children died and not too long after, his wife fell sick." Raphael continued. "Theodore of Terrasen was desperate, he turned to the dark gods for help. He sold his soul, his ability to love for that power. The gift was rather a curse, his greed and ambition increased and he let his wife die, as he was no longer interested in her fate. Everything left from that kind and selfless man vanished, leaving the lust for power. Theodore learnt and practiced all kinds of magic, and his power grew day by day. Soon enough, he became the first Shadow Lord, a feared man. "

" And what happened to him after that, daddy?" Guinevere was mesmerized by this story, it was like no other she's been told.

" Centuries passed, the dark gods can't be trusted. One day, they gave Theodore his old soul back. "

" And that is good, isn't it, daddy? "

" Not at all, Guin. He felt again, but it was all regret. Pain. Remorse.The first Shadow Lord left behind a great legacy, different books about runes, and  spells. He withdrawed, no one knows where. Up to this day no one has ever heard of him again. He might be dead, or he might be still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

" And my mother? Who's she? " said Guinevere, snapping out of her memory.

" We can't tell you. "

" Why? This is mad. " she protested.

" Watch your tone when you speak to us, Shadow Lord. We know you need our help." Guinevere was expecting them to have an infinite knowledge, but it was still fricking her out how they anticipated her every move.

"I want your help, indeed. But will you help me?" another reason why she came here was because she wanted to understand how to use her magic.

"We will. But we will ask for something in return when the right time comes." she hesitated for a second, what if they ask for something extreme, like someone's life or her soul.

"What do you want in exchange?" Guinevere asked.

"You'll find out when the right tine comes." the girl stopped. Should she accept? Well she didn't came here for nothing. It is what it is.

"As you wish."

"Then shall our lessons began, Shadow Lord."

Guinevere trained with the spirits, they showed her spells, they taught her to control her power, to use her chaos for her needs.

She learnt faster than she tought she will. Finally she felt good at something. The High Priestesses were good teachers, patient, calm and kinder that Guinevere expected.

The girl had to leave, as it was getting dark. She felt safe with the Priestesses, the paladin camp was no threath to her while she was with them. But now, when she has to leave, Guinevere felt somehow unsure.

She had her magic now, of course. But the slight doubtful feeling was still present in her gut.

Only if she knew.

A/N: For some reason I hate this chapter🙃🙃