Magi Morgiana Romane & Geschichten

"I didn't know she was here." "Nobody invited her," another whispered back. "She hasn't left her cave in decades." The old woman, Morgana, climbed the platform steps with painful slowness. When she finally reached the top, she turned to face the crowd, and I caught a glimpse of her face beneath the hood. Ancient didn't begin to describe it. Her skin was like parchment stretched over bone, her eyes milky white with cataracts. But there was power in those blind eyes. Old power that made the blood magic Dante had just channeled look like a child's trick.

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,

My mama 's strength and wisdom guided us, her presence a lamp of stopgap amidst the chaos. Despite Morgana's redoubtable power, the concerted strength of our abettors began to turn the drift. sluggishly purely surely, we pushed back her forces, dismembering the dark enchantments that had long held sway over her sphere. In the final moments, it was my mama who faced Morgana directly. Their dogfight was a heartbreaking clash of sisters, each fighting for their vision of the future. My mama 's determination and love eventually triumphed over Morgana's abomination and ambition. With a final, important spell, she annulled Morgana's dark magic, ending her reign of terror formerly and for all.

Not from this pack. Behind them, a ripple in the air formed. And then she appeared. Morgana. The witch. She stepped forward, barefoot on the concrete, her long midnight cloak fluttering behind her. Her hair was silver and black like spider silk, her face pale, her eyes glowing with an unnatural gold hue that pulsed like coals. “P-please,” I managed, my voice shaking. “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t know what you did to me, but I—I can feel myself again. I can hear myself. Please—stop—”

I need to get out of this house before the walls crush me. I need Morgana. She is a half-witch. If anyone knows how to trace the magical signature on those blackmail letters, or how to cast a cloaking spell over me until I figure out my next move, it’s her. She has always been my anchor in the treacherous waters of supernatural high society.

“The Fae queen?” She didn’t seem fazed by our shock, her gaze unyielding as she continued, her voice carrying the weight of untold suffering. “My people were cast out of our homeland and captured by Morgan, also known as the Queen of Darkness.” I gasped, my mind immediately flashing back to the warnings I had heard. “You mean the queen we’ve been warned about?” My eyes widened, disbelief rising in me. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice tight with sorrow. Morgan is the epitome of evil. She takes, destroys, and drains everything—life, hope, magic.

The air around us crackled with tension, thick with the scent of ancient magic. Morgana, the witch who had cursed Silverclaw, hovered before me, her ghostly figure flickering in and out of focus. Her fiery eyes bore into mine, reading my thoughts, my fears, and every doubt I held. Her presence was overwhelming, suffocating. I could feel her power pressing down on me like a weight that would crush my very soul. "Tell me, child," Morgana’s voice was cold, calculated. "Why do you seek the key? What do you truly hope to achieve by tampering with forces beyond your comprehension?"

I give her a charming smile, a glimmer of mischief in my gaze as I rise from my seat. "Prince Magnus... aren't you a delight? I expected something else... Oh, how silly of me!" She shakes her head as if she has committed some error, flashing me a wide grin. "I'm Morgana," she says, curtsying as she raises the back of her hand for me to kiss. I chuckle at the audacity. But the nature of witches is known. They like to be treated well; they expect to be pampered and peppered with compliments for their beauty—which is often nothing more than just an illusion.

' I thought as I flipped the pages over and over In search of a spell that could at least help Lisa regain her strength but there was nothing like that! "Dang! Why can't I find the spell?" I was getting pissed off and frustrated right now. Gritting my teeth, I summoned. "Morgana!" Immediately, a green scaly witch appeared by the side of the bed. She had dark long hair, green slithering eyes, gnarled and twisted fingers with lengthy poisonous nails that could kill if stabbed into ones chest and mixed with their blood. She had her head bowed down before me. "You called for me, master," She said meekly but I didn't even notice the tone of her voice as I demanded with furious eyes, tossing the u

When they saw me, they looked like they wanted to run but couldn't. "It's going to be okay," I said delicately. Then to Sera, "What are you doing?" A look of panic crossed Sera's face before her eyes rolled back inside her head, and they were replaced with twin pools of red, like blood. "Sera isn't here right now," she said, and my light was extinguished. "I am Mizrabel, a sorceress from the land of Polonias. With her longing for friends and for power, this child was easy to coerce into wakening me. Now everyone in the land will pay, especially you. If you dare, come for me, and we will see who is meant to rule the land." The voice, which sounded nothing like Sera's, cackled and was gone.