𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟠

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aight if yall have been in a shitty mood cuz some card didnt come home—

DONT FEEL BAD BECAUSE I DREW A SPELL CARD FROM MY DECK, SIX TEN ROLLS AND 9 KEYS, AND IT GOT UNO-REVERSED TO NOTHING.

DAMN U LEONA.

excluding the character profile, announcements and the arbitrary comments that i always put up hither before the start of the chapter or the end of it, this story has approximately: 

86,786  words 

that out of the way i had an exam yesterday so i spent the entire week prepping for it which meant that i couldnt update until now

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Mira was dead.

Not the Nikki, but the original Mira.

If everything was like a puppet show, the roles doing what they had done; strings appended to them as fraudulent smiles plastered on their features, perhaps there wouldn't be such a poignant finish either way. 

Once upon a time, there was a young girl bearing the name of Mira. She was pure, active, the most vibrant social butterfly whom everyone would want to be friends with. Albeit what I typed above, if everything was like a puppet show, she wouldn't have had to confront the true horrors at the age of 10. She would have been a student at a female boarding academy, the same ecstatic personality as if she were the rays of the sun herself, a true angel who would bless anyone once they had met her eye-to-eye. Her tinted hair would complement the rich alabaster dress her uniform glorified; it was meant to be a prestigious and 'holy' academy, after all.

Nicholai pulverised it. He knew who was controlling the puppets, the people in his world, and required to break that. He didn't grasp how to, of course, he resulted to investigating black magic as an alternative. Once his plan was set in stone, he would have the entire world bow down to his orders, where he would be was truly the world he deserved.

Black magic was one of the only conditions he was frightened to endeavour within. He had to travel to many components of the world, make risky compromises with those who comprehended more than they should have; an accumulation of his analysis scoring him silent recognition with his own mind. It was of those moments where domineering people who were always used to showing off what they were bequeathed with was better kept speechless. As long as no one knew what he was about to do, for the better, everything would be under his control instead.

For the most part, Nicholai wanted to experiment with the child who had been holding him down from his career. A mere female child, he would consider, would have no sort of influence even if she were to grow older. He did take into consideration whether he would let her age to see whether her beauty was still there, yet by then it would take too long and his plans would collapse. 

The girl would always obstruct his workplace, a goofy smile bound on her face and a bouquet he had seen for the n-th time. He didn't like it.

Girls who were innocent and naive wouldn't change the world in any way.

What he needed was someone who could adjust any quandary with a snap of their finger, a mind that could function as if it were a computer, a true magician in the world full of magicians with only titles backing them up. 

Then, he attained it.

A baffling grimoire, leather fulcrum the shade of mulberries, a signature with the two letters C and F. He knew very well what it stood for.

Cassara Fadington, the lady who had unearthed a ritual that allowed metempsychosis through the practice of black magic.

Finding himself ordained by his own luck, he tested it out immediately. He went back home, as usual, found his wife who was nothing more than a hindrance helping the young girl clad in a sundress with her homework. First, he took her out on a little adventure, he knew the girl loved exploring. Reassured by the fact that Mira was just a naive and innocent girl, there was no point in letting her see the light of her future any longer. With that, he activated the grimiore, several men he had hired surrounding the girl who had collapsed to the ground, screeching in pain.

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