Mordret remained silent for a while.
Eventually, he sighed and looked up, at the colorful windows of the abandoned church… the church of Mirage, the Demon of Imagination.
As if mourning the illusion of her creation that he was choosing to forsake.
Still looking up, he spoke in a wistful tone:
"We were four when our father handed us to the Dreamspawn. That was soon after America fell, and both Immortal Flame and his daughter perished. Father… wasn't quite himself back then. Not that I remember it well."
Mordret hesitated for a few moments.
"I… don't think he ever liked us that much, even if I don't know why. Granted, we were indeed an odd child — in more senses than one. We were born with a rare condition that reversed the location of our organs, for example. And we did not learn to speak for a long while, unlike normal children. In fact, it wasn't long after we spoke our first word that we became the Dreamspawn's ward."
Morgan smiled darkly.
