Morgiana Magi Novels & Stories

I began, my voice measured, controlled, “from a trusted source.” I paused, letting that sink in. “The nightmare…” I continued slowly, “the monster that has tormented this kingdom for years… the most feared black magician whose name is whispered in fear across every pack and kingdom…” A few people shifted in anticipation. Someone even swallowed audibly. “Morgana…” You could feel it. The name alone was enough to change the air. “…is not a woman.” That did it. Gasps. Sharp, disbelieving murmurs. Chairs scraping as people leaned forward muttering all at once.

He cocks his head to the side as he studies my face intently, causing me to squirm in place under his gaze. Words move to the forefront of my mind, beating back the whispering voices that were growing too loud to ignore. The soothing sound of Jamari’s voice floods my system with calm, helping me take control of the magic that threatens to consume me. “I am Morgana Pendragom.” Magic swirls around me, sending my hair flying around my head. “There is nothing I can not do.” A scream leaves my lips as the last of my words fills the space between us. A burst of power shoots out from my body, blasting against the spell placed on the cell door.

My wolf was restless beneath my skin, his need to protect our mate making him claw at the edges of my control. I reached the outer edges of the pack’s land, where an old cottage stood, hidden deep in the forest. It belonged to an old seer—one we rarely spoke of. Morgana. She was once an ally of the pack before she was exiled for using magic that went against our laws. They called her a traitor, a danger, a woman who dabbled too much in dark magic. But right now, I didn’t care about the past. If she had knowledge of fate and magic, then I had to seek her out.

TOBIAS I still remembered the day we met her. The witch. Her name was Morgana Blackthorne, and she was unlike any other. Morgana Blackthorne was feared by many, but she was no monster. No twisted, evil creature waiting to cause harm. There were whispers about her, of course—talk of curses, dark spells, and prices too steep to pay. Some said she could call upon shadows themselves, that she could see the future in the embers of a dying fire. Others claimed she was immortal, an ancient being who had walked the earth long before the first packs had even formed.

The white-haired woman pulled a contraption from her robes, like the bridle of a horse. “What is that?” I recoiled. The mage with the melodious voice stepped forward and grabbed my face by the jaw, holding me still. I tried to pull away. The contraption had a metal bar with sharp looking spikes and a framework of leather straps. “Hold her,” the woman ordered the men as I screamed and struggled against them. The half-ogre roared in response, and for a moment, fought his way free of his guards. “Ianaceo,” she growled out at the ogre with the bitter bite of magic, and the ogre fell flat onto the floor, though he continued to growl and groan, he could not move. “Don’t make me do the same to you,

“Aislen means dreamer, and Morgana great circle. You are witch-trained, but not a witch.” Aislen narrowed her eyes at him. “Ten minutes is up, Aaron.” “Morgana, give me a f-king chance,” he replied. “Mother of blood and wolf is pretty self-explanatory, considering your mates, who are four kings,” he pulled a slight face at that. “Of a sort.”

Freida straightened and crossed her arms. "Hello," she greeted. Freida answered with a curt nod. Her gaze was serious. Erica's smile faltered. She had made sure that her mental barrier was up. "So..." she tried to strike a conversation unable to guess what was in the older woman's mind. Freida regarded her silently before saying, "I have received the information that my son's mate and the future Luna Queen is a mage. Is it true?"

​Suddenly, a foul, freezing wind swept through the Great Hall. ​Morgana appeared at the top of the gallery stairs, her eyes completely black as she chanted a dark, suffocating binding spell. She threw her hands forward, sending a visual wave of murky, purple dark magic straight at the white wolf's head, hoping to snap the leash back onto Elara’s mind. ​The magic hit Elara dead-on.

The Mage Tower's teleportation array can teleport up to five people to any location within that range. By this time, Christine had gathered everyone in the courtyard of the villa. Although she had not told them the truth, no one dared disobey her orders, for she had the authority of a baroness. The leader, Valessi Arnol, a sixth level mage, saw Christine at first glance. There was no way around it, she was the centre of attention wherever she went. She immediately approached Christine and asked, 'Christine, what's going on? Mage Valessi,'

she says, making Marrok snarl angrily. “I mean, she said I must have a magic pussy, and I was going to ask you about that,” she says, ignoring Marrok’s snarl and smiling at me. “Your pussy is definitely magical. It takes me to places I’ve never been before. But that doesn’t change the fact that she not only tried to interfere with us, but she also disrespected me to a member of a very powerful family.” “And disrespect can’t go unaddressed,” she says seriously.