Morgana’s shock was evident as she whispered, "Shademore Gorge!"
She knew that place; every witch knew about it.
It was a realm of devil worshippers, where the most vicious and hate-fueled creatures walked, steeped in brutality and darkness.
The forest fell silent except for the crackling of fires and the heavy breathing of exhausted fighters.
Morgana swayed on her feet, drained by the effort of using so much power so quickly. The blue light faded, leaving her looking pale and shaken.
"Morgana!" Raelana rushed to her side, supporting her before she could fall. "What was that power? I’ve never seen anything like it."
But Morgana barely heard her. Her eyes were fixed on the spot where the black fiend had disappeared with Jaenor. "They took him," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"They took him."
Darian quickly came to the rescue and held her.
"That talking fiend took him. I’m sorry, Morgana," he said to her.
Around the clearing, the aftermath of the battle was becoming clear. Two witches from the Emerald Willow covenant were badly wounded, their robes torn and stained with blood. One of the Ladrealla witches was unconscious, her face pale as death.
Elizabeth and Katerina approached, their expressions grim.
"What were those things?" Elizabeth demanded. "We’ve fought dark creatures before, but never anything like that black one."
"And why did they specifically target your group?" Katerina added, her green eyes sharp with suspicion.
"That wasn’t a random attack. They came here for a reason."
Raelana looked between the two of the sisters and Morgana, confusion clear on her face. "Someone needs to explain what’s happening here. Those fiends don’t just appear in organized groups like that. And they certainly don’t speak."
But Morgana wasn’t listening to their questions.
She was already moving, gathering her pack and preparing to leave. Every second they wasted was another second that Jaenor was in the hands of that creature.
"Morgana, where are you going?" Raelana asked, "We have to help the wounded. We have to—"
"I promised to them that I would protect those people. They were under my protection, and I let something take that boy. It’s on me, and I have to save him."
"That’s all I’m saying to you." Morgana turned and didn’t look back at Raelana or Elizabeth.
Raelana had a confused expression on her face.
She looked at Rena and Baren and Taeryn, who was slowly getting to his feet with a hand pressed to his bruised ribs.
Morgana called out, "Darian!"
Then Darian gestured for the three of them to follow silently.
All three of them moved towards them.
Morgana turned to the three witches. "Take care of your wounded. This enemy is beyond anything you’ve faced before."
"Morgana, wait," Raelana called out as they prepared to leave. "At least tell us what we’re dealing with. If these creatures are connected to you somehow, we need to know."
But Morgana was already walking toward the forest, following the path the black fiend had taken. Her face was set with grim determination, and the faint blue glow of Origin power still flickered around her hands.
"There’s no time," she called back. "Every moment we delay is another moment he suffers."
Elizabeth and Raelana just stared at them while they left.
Who are these young men and woman?
Morgana was acting very suspiciously; it was obvious, and ignoring all three of them was certainly not a good thing for a sister of the witch council.
And with that, she disappeared into the darkness, followed by Darian, Rena, Taeryn, and Baren. Behind them, the two covens were left to tend their wounds and wonder what kind of enemy they had encountered.
-
Morgana didn’t stop until they were in the clear; she didn’t want to let those women hear her talk to Darian and others.
After reaching a certain distance, she stopped, and all of them stopped too.
Every second that passed was another second that Jaenor was in danger, and she knew that whatever that fiend wanted with the boy, it would not be pleasant.
She raised her hands again, calling upon power that she rarely used. The air around her began to shimmer and twist, and she spoke words in the ancient tongue that made the very ground beneath her feet vibrate.
All three of them stood stunned, staring at her in disbelief. They were terrified after seeing Jaenor taken away. Darian told them to step back as the light around Morgana intensified.
Morgana kept chanting, her voice deepening as it multiplied—first doubled, then tripled—until it sounded like a chorus of low, unearthly voices speaking as one.
The spell was complex and dangerous, requiring more energy than she had left after the battle. But desperation gave her strength, and her love for Jaenor gave her focus.
From thin air, a shape began to form above the clearing.
At first it looked like silver mist, but gradually it took on solid form—long and slender, with wings that seemed to go on forever and a body that curved like flowing water.
It was a dragon, a serpentine form with unimaginable speed.
The dragon that appeared was unlike the great fire-breathing beasts of legend. This creature was built for speed and grace, not destruction. Her scales were pale silver that caught the moonlight like mirrors, and her body was slim and elegant. Her wings were enormous compared to her size, designed to catch every breath of wind and turn it into swift flight.
This was Swefarna, the Mundragon, a creature of immense speed and legendary beauty. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds, and when she moved, it was with the elegance of a dancer.
Morgana stopped her chant and moved to the dragon’s head as the dragon lowered her head to meet Morgana.
She patted her head and said, "We need to move, Swefarna. There’s no time."
Swefarna’s eyes flashed with understanding.
Morgana turned to Darian. "Take care of Rena and Baren, Taeryn," she called out. She looked at the three of them, who were staring at the dragon in disbelief.