The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

It was a small flame, no larger than a flower, delicate and beautiful, dancing in shades of gold and amber and deep crimson. It didn’t burn her. It never did. The fire that came from her inner magic was a part of her, not something hostile or dangerous. It was as natural to her as breathing, if she allowed herself to breathe freely.

She laughed, a genuine, joyful sound....and showed the flame to Shadowmere.

”Look,” she whispered. ”This is what I am. This is what I hide from everyone. This is the real me.”

The stallion’s ears pricked forward. He didn’t shy away in fear. Instead, he stepped closer, his dark eyes wide with fascination, studying the dancing flame with obvious interest.

Then, remarkably, he made a sound...not a whinny, but a kind of deep rumbling in his chest that seemed to vibrate with approval or recognition. He nuzzled toward the flame, not close enough to be burned but close enough to show his comfort with it.

It was as if the horse was telling her: I see you. This is good. Do it again.

Morgana’s heart ached at the simple acceptance.

”You see me,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ”You actually see what I am, and you’re not afraid. You don’t hate me. You don’t think I’m a monster.”

Shadowmere made the rumbling sound again, pressing his muzzle gently against her shoulder.

In that moment, Morgana felt a connection to another creature that went beyond simple affection. She felt truly known. Truly accepted. Truly loved, in the way that animals could love....without judgment, without conditions, without the complicated layers of human politics and power and secrets.

She wanted to hold onto this moment forever.

But even as the thought formed, fear crept back in.

She could hear the sounds of the stable beyond Shadowmere’s stall, voices of other workers, the distant clink of equipment, the normal afternoon activity of the palace stables. If someone came by, if they saw her with fire literally burning in her hand, if they reported it...

She extinguished the flame with a thought, the magic withdrawing back into her core as quickly as it had emerged.

Shadowmere made a sound of protest, his eyes tracking to where the fire had been, as if asking her to bring it back, to show him again.

”I’m sorry, my friend,” Morgana said softly, running her hand over his dark coat one final time. ”I can’t do it again. Not here. Not where someone might see. If anyone found out... if they knew what I could do...”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to. In a world where magic was forbidden, where unknown power was treated as threat rather than gift, she couldn’t afford to reveal what she truly was.

So she locked the magic away again, stuffing it back down into the deepest parts of herself, suppressing it with the practiced ease of someone who had been hiding her true nature since birth.

Shadowmere nickered softly, as if in sympathy, and Morgana rested her forehead against his neck, allowing herself a moment of true despair before she hardened herself again and returned to the work of the stables.

***

She was still with Shadowmere when Garrick reappeared in the stables as evening was approaching.

He looked around quickly, as if checking to ensure they were alone before he approached. His weathered face bore an expression of deep concern.

”I need to tell you something,” he said without preamble, his voice low and urgent.

Morgana stepped out of Shadowmere’s stall, closing the gate behind her. ”What’s wrong?”

”The man I mentioned,” Garrick said, glancing toward the stable entrance. ”The one watching the stable. He came back. About an hour ago. He was more obvious this time. Wasn’t trying to hide his observation. Just... watching. Waiting.”

”Waiting for what?” Morgana’s voice had become barely a whisper.

”I don’t know,” Garrick admitted. ”But Morgana, listen to me carefully. I think someone has placed a spy in the stables.”

Morgana’s mind was racing. A spy? Who would place a spy in the stable?

”What do you think they want?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

”That’s what I can’t figure out,” Garrick said. ”But I want you to be aware. Watch for unusual people. If you need to leave the stables....truly need to go somewhere, try to do it in the middle of the day when there are more people around. Don’t go out alone at night. Not until we understand what this is about.”

Morgana nodded.

”Thank you for warning me. For looking out for me.”

”That’s what people do when they care about someone,” Garrick said simply. And then he was gone, disappearing back into his routine, leaving Morgana alone with her spiraling thoughts and growing sense of dread.

***

Later that afternoon, Rowan appeared at the stable entrance.

She was moving quickly, her auburn curls slightly disheveled, her expression carrying that particular kind of urgency that suggested she had stolen time from her duties to visit.

The moment Morgana saw her, something in her chest loosened slightly.

Despite everything, despite the confusion and the fear and the isolation, the sight of her friend was like a breath of fresh air in a suffocating room.

”Rowan!” Morgana called out, her voice containing an emotion she couldn’t quite hide.

Rowan practically ran across the stable toward her, and when they came together, Morgana found herself being pulled into a tight embrace. She didn’t resist. Instead, she held onto her friend, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, allowing herself a moment of true connection with someone she genuinely loved.

When they finally pulled apart, Morgana realized her eyes were damp with tears.

Rowan saw this and immediately mocked her, in that gentle way that only real friends could manage. ”Don’t be a cry baby!” she said, though her eyes were kind. ”We have only been separated for days! Anyone would think we haven’t seen each other for months the way you’re acting.”

Despite herself, Morgana smiled. ”I missed you.”

”I missed you too, you idiot,” Rowan said, threading her arm through Morgana’s and pulling her deeper into the stable. ”But we don’t have much time, so tell me everything. What have I missed? What’s been happening in this strange place?”

They settled onto hay bales near Shadowmere’s stall, and Rowan immediately launched into the kind of gossip that only someone who worked in the palace proper could provide.