The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Morgana waited until the house fell into silence.

Her mother had gone to bed early, exhausted from the day’s work and the weight of tomorrow looming over them both. Morgana had heard her coughing through the thin walls, heard the labored breathing that eventually settled into something resembling sleep.

She counted to three hundred this time, just to be sure.

Then she rose.

The routine was familiar now, the dark clothes hidden beneath her bed, the worn boots, the cloak that smelled of earth and pine. She dressed in the darkness, her movements practiced and silent.

The door creaked when she opened it, but her mother’s breathing didn’t falter.

Morgana slipped out into the night.

The village was quiet, the streets empty save for the occasional flicker of torchlight from the night watch making their rounds.

Morgana kept to the shadows, her path as familiar as her own heartbeat. She knew which streets to avoid, which alleys offered cover, which corners the watchmen favored.

She moved like smoke through the darkness, unseen and unheard.

By the time she reached the edge of the village, her breath was misting in the cold air. She paused at the treeline, glancing back one last time at the cluster of houses behind her.

Tomorrow, she would leave this place.

Tomorrow, she would step into a world she didn’t understand, surrounded by people who would kill her if they knew what she was.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

She turned and disappeared into the forest.

***

The woods were alive with sound tonight.

The rustle of leaves. The distant hoot of an owl. The soft scurrying of some small creature moving through the underbrush.

Morgana walked quickly, her feet finding the narrow path without thought. The trees closed in around her, their branches tangling overhead like a canopy of skeletal fingers.

She loved the forest at night. Loved the way it felt ancient and untamed, the way it made her feel small and significant all at once.

Here, she could breathe.

The mountains rose ahead of her, dark and looming against the star-scattered sky. She climbed steadily, her legs burning, her lungs aching in the thin air.

When the cave entrance finally appeared, hidden behind its tangle of vines and brush....she pushed through without hesitation.

The darkness swallowed her whole.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out the flint, and struck it once.

Fire bloomed in her palm.

Not from the flint.

From her.

The flame danced across her fingers, warm and alive, and she let it grow just a little, enough to light her way down the winding tunnel.

The air grew warmer as she descended. Damper. The smell of stone and smoke and something ancient filled her lungs.

The tunnel opened into the massive cavern, and there...coiled in the center like some great sleeping serpent....was Atheris.

His eyes opened before she even spoke.

Gold. Molten. Knowing.

”Little spark,” he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. ”You’ve come late tonight.”

Morgana extinguished the flame in her hand and moved closer, settling onto her usual stone near his foreleg. The heat radiating from his body was like sitting beside a bonfire.

”I couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly.

Atheris’s massive head lifted, his gaze sharpening. ”Tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a question.

”Yes.” Morgana pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. ”Tomorrow I go to the palace.”

The dragon was silent for a long moment, his golden eyes fixed on her.

”And you are afraid.”

”Terrified,” she admitted.

”Good.” Atheris shifted, his chains clinking softly. ”Fear keeps you sharp. Keeps you careful. It is when you stop being afraid that you become reckless.”

Morgana let out a shaky laugh. ”That’s not exactly comforting.”

”I am a dragon, not a nursemaid.” His mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. ”Comfort is overrated.”

Despite everything, Morgana smiled.

Then the smile faded.

”What if I can’t control it?” she whispered. ”What if I slip? What if someone sees?”

Atheris regarded her steadily. ”Do you trust yourself?”

”I don’t know.”

”Then let me ask you this: how many times have you lost control?”

Morgana frowned, thinking. ”A few. When I was younger. Before my mother taught me to suppress it.”

”And since then?”

She hesitated. ”Once. Maybe twice. And even then, I caught it before anyone noticed.”

”Exactly.” Atheris’s voice was firm. ”You have spent your entire life learning to control something most mages train years to master. You have done it alone, without instruction, without guidance. And you have not failed. Not truly.”

”But what if the palace is different? What if being around so much magic makes it harder to hide mine?”

”Then you adapt.” Atheris’s gaze didn’t waver. ”You are stronger than you know, little spark. Stronger than you believe. But strength means nothing if you do not trust it.”

Morgana’s throat tightened. ”I don’t know how.”

”Then learn.” The dragon’s voice softened, just slightly. ”You are walking into the dragon’s den, child. There will be danger. There will be fear. But there will also be opportunity.”

”Opportunity for what?”

Atheris’s eyes gleamed. ”To become who you were always meant to be.”

Morgana stared at him. ”You’re being cryptic again.”

”I am a dragon. It is what we do.”

”Atheris.” She leaned forward, her voice urgent. ”If there’s something you know, something I should be prepared for.....please just tell me.”

The dragon was silent for a long moment.

Then he sighed, a sound like wind through a canyon.

”I cannot tell you what you are not ready to hear,” he said quietly. ”But I can tell you this: the palace is not what you think it is. The kings are not what they seem. And you...” He paused, his gaze piercing. ”You are not as alone as you believe.”