Forgotten Magick

Chapter 1: Fate. Pt, 3.

Introducing: The Lost Child, Morgana Walker.

Morgana was a human girl, her soul wasn’t bound to any animal spirit, nor was she blessed by any divine body to have control over the physical world. She most certainly wasn’t fae or an elf or even a vampire! No Morgana was just human. As human as human gets. However, she was anything but normal. She knew of the magickal world hiding deep in th forest lands, she knew of their powers and where they had originated, and she also knew why the various factions that had once lived in almost perfect harmony were now severely divided. Her father had made sure she was well versed in everything magickal, her lessons as a child were strenuous and long. It was hard for a while to balance her normal school life with her secret training at home, in fact it made her completely isolated from her peers more than anything. In truth Morgana was a trained killer, an assassin, an agent of The Order of Humanity who was laying in wait to carry out her destined mission.

As the descendant of the legendary Derek Walker she was told her whole life she was special, that she would be the ultimate downfall of the Blessed. She would finish what the old man could not, especially now since the binding curse had weakened so much that The Order on their own were able to break it. Morgana chuckled as she thought about it, perhaps the Luna Supreme knew this would happen she must have known. The curse was burned into their DNA, and as the Unblessed procreated vastly and freely it spread the ties to the Blessed so thin that a simple separation spell was all it took to burn the strings of fate away.

What the ancient witch couldn’t foresee was that The Order never took a day off, they had continued to stalk and observe the Blessed. At her father’s office, they even had a war room with a large map of the whole continent, it detailed the difference between human borders and various territories that were owned by the Blessed. The Order knew where everyone had gone, what kind of life they were living, and what means of protection they were using. Now that it had been a generation or two since the curse was broken The Annual Hunt had recommenced, Morgana had only been on a handful of hunts and she was only allowed to observe. She was her father’s secret weapon, she was fated to put an end to all this. To be the one to put an end to The Order by claiming victory over the Blessed.

Morgana on the other hand never truly enjoyed her life, her passions were not killing and surveillance, in fact, her happy place was right where she was. Her blacksmithing shop was called The Ancient Anvil Forge, of course, the store was only a front she wasn’t supposed to take orders and sell things to the locals she was only supposed to work on and create weapons for The Order. However, Morgana couldn’t help herself, she loved making people custom fineries of any and every kind. Morgana loved the creative process of turning a chunk of metal into anything her customers wanted; hunting knives, mid-evil sword replicas, decorative hardware like door knockers or cupboard handles, and tools of all kinds. The work was hard especially since she liked to stick with the traditional crafting methods but she made good money for herself, and her craft kept her in shape.

Her father was the main source of her anguish, Marshal Walker was an authoritative and military-like man. To her understanding, she was his only child, and her mother was his 20th partner in his mission to get an heir and the fated child he was told about in his youth. However, when her mother had finally given birth it was not to the son he had always wanted but instead a little girl with a full head of chocolaty brown hair. He had never been able to conceive another child since, and so begrudgingly, Marshal took the girl under his wing and did his damn best to raise a true Walker.

Her whole life Morgana was forced to keep her hair cut short, when she had hit puberty the only bras she had were sports bras until that was no longer enough. Her father had then introduced her to something called binding, squishing her developing breasts flat against her chest, any and every effort to wipe away the femininity that she was born with. Even though she was the spitting image of her father, he couldn’t even say her first name, always referring to her by their shared name. However, when Morgana was able to move out, have her shop and live in the apartment above it she had the freedom she wanted. For years now she let her hair grow out, nowadays it was halfway down her back. Now she only bound her chest and wore a wig, to go see her father.

Her blacksmithing shop was her safe haven, where she was able to be herself. Over the years she was able to sneak getting her ears pierced from the top all the way to her stretched lobs, not to mention the belly button piercing she was able to get as well. She decorated her back and legs with a variety of tattoos; dragons lighting up a massive hearth, coiling itself around her back and torso, with a red hot anvil clutched in its strong grip. On her legs were some of her favorite things to craft; swords, hammers, axes, and jewels. All of which were extravagantly decorated, all of which were her designs.

Morgana had finished up her work on the hunting knife for the day, a custom order she had been working on, putting away her tools and cleaning up her workplace. She hadn’t received a call or text from her father in weeks at that point, she was thankful. Any period of time she could have away from that horrible man was worth the thanks, she never took these times of peace for granted. Morgana quickly ran up the stairs to the apartment that resided right above the store, deciding to take a quick shower before running out to get some fresh air.

Morgana’s showers were always quick, no more than five minutes at a time, it was a habit leftover from her military-like upbringing. If she ever stayed in the shower longer than her allotted time the cold water would be turned off, and within minutes she would be scolded with close to boiling water. Now she counted the seconds while she bathed herself purely out of habit, always making sure to turn the tap off at 298 seconds and not a single second longer.

As Morgana stepped out from the shower, wrapping herself in a rather fluffy and soft towel, she took a second to look herself in the mirror. Her long dark brown hair had finally grown to her preferred length, the tips of her hair just to say aligned with the bottom of her shoulder blades. She left her hair generally unstyled, no layers or bangs or anything along those lines, it helped to keep her hair tight under her wigs whenever she saw her father. Still, she loved the more natural look, all she had to do in the morning was brush out the knots and tie it all up in a neat high ponytail. Her eyes were a striking blue, the trademark of any true Walker. A permanent reminder of her lineage and ultimate fate. Morgana quickly finished up with her hair before stepping out into her bedroom, it was fairly simple, she did prefer the more minimalistic aesthetic or perhaps that preference just was because she had so little to her own name.

There were no framed photos anywhere, no posters on the wall, not even a colorful fuzzy carpet on the floor. Her walls were a light gray color, her flooring were white tiles, and her bed, dresser, and, desk were all a nice dark gray. Her bedspread matched the color scheme as well; her sheets were white, pillows dark gray, and, the comforter was black. Her whole apartment was styled in the minimalistic, industrial, aesthetic. The only pop of color in her bedroom was the replica Jackson Polluck's 1946 painting named ‘Free Form’. Morgana enjoyed the abstract art of Jackson Polluck, for some reason she could always feel some sense of peace in all the messy chaos. Morgana stood and stared at the painting for a moment, letting the slow drip of the water falling from her hair fill the empty silence of the room around her.

Morgana took in a slow deep breath before giving her head a quick shake, she slapped her cheeks a couple of times before sighing out her breath. “Alright, time to get dressed..” She muttered quietly before moving towards her dresser, picking out a pair of black bootleg jeans and a navy blue long-sleeved shirt. Morgana threw on a black puffy vest and a pair of black and blue converse shoes, she was ready to go out to her favorite coffee shop. Morgana grabbed her worn-out brown satchel and threw the strap over her shoulder, then she took hold of her phone and headphones popping them into her ears and blasting her music in her ears. Morgana walked out onto the busy street, hands in her pockets, and her posture leaned back as her eyes scanned over the area.

All seemed well in her little neighborhood, everything and everyone seemed at peace. Morgana smiled to herself and waved at her elderly neighbors across the way from her, then she made her way onto the bus before paying her fair and taking a seat. Morgana relaxed in her seat, discreetly cranking the volume on her phone as ‘Death of a Bachelor’ by Pan!c at the Disco started to play. It was one of her favorite songs. Morgana closed her eyes and let her mind wander for the twenty-odd some minutes she’d be on the bus; in her mind's eye, she could see herself dressed lavishly in a skin-tight black evening gown with a skirt that flowed with her movements. She had jewels glued to all parts of her exposed skin and she dazzled like a princess as she danced with a nameless man with sandy blond hair and a gorgeous smile. They glided through the dance floor, spinning quickly while her skirt fluttered around her. All the while Mr. Tall, Kind, and, Handsome only had eyes for her. It was a blissful fantasy, but as the bus came to a stop Morgana was reminded that it was all just that; a fantasy.

Morgana opened her eyes and sighed deeply before getting up from her seat, she took the back door exit of the bus onto the bustling street. Morgana pulled up her hood as she walked down the street towards a little coffee shop called Books and Brews, it was a mix between a library and a coffee shop. When Morgana wasn’t at her store she was more than likely at Books and Brews, despite her night job Morgana actually enjoyed reading all of the YA novels about the supernatural. Her recent favorite she discovered was a book series called the ‘His’ series, the author went by the name Quirky Quinn, the third installment of the series hadn’t been released yet so Morgana was simply left to read and re-read the two previous installments over and over again. It was the one thing in the world Morgana allowed herself to be excited about, and it was a book series about werewolves. The irony was never lost to her of course. However, the author's excellent writing allowed her to let go of her tired life even if only for a moment.

Morgana went over to her usual nook, a small corner in the far back of the shop that was right next to the book series she loved so dearly. Morgana sat down on a pile of pillows and blankets, plucked out the first book ‘His Redemption’ from the shelf. Someone must have broken the previous book because the one Morgana had in her hands felt very new, she even had the honor of cracking the spine. Before long a waitress had come around and asked her if there was anything she needed, Morgana ordered her usual espresso and a large caramel cappuccino. It was another ten minutes before her beverages arrived and everything was perfect, Morgana put her earbuds back in her ears and played some copy-right-free fantasy forest music to relax her and set the mood. This was her favorite part of being her own boss, she could come here and do as she pleased however she pleased. All she had to do was make sure her custom orders were ready by their promised pick-up dates, and as it stood the hunting knife was her one and only order at the moment.

Her peaceful bliss however had to come to an end eventually, the hours were getting rather late in the day and Morgana needed to get home to eat soon. She wasn’t going to spend her spare money on eating out, not when she had a fridge full of food at home. Morgana paid her bill before leaving the store, she had been able to read through half the book in the couple of hours she had spent there, it was a pleasant and well-needed vacation from reality. Morgana smiled and nod at the girls behind the counter before taking her leave, she switched her music back to her Pan!c at the Disco as she boarded the bus back to her place.

About twenty minutes later Morgana was home again, the sun still hanging out in the sky, Morgana went in through the back door and sighed heavily as she entered the eerily quiet apartment. It was always like this for Morgana, just a life of quiet solitude. She didn’t even bother turning on the lights as she made her way to the small kitchen, taking a seat at the island that divided the kitchen from the living room. Morgana crossed her arms on the countertop and leaned her head forward into the folds of her arms, taking a few deep breaths as she reorganized her thoughts. She had no idea why but the idea of partnership had started to fill her mind in recent days, she was turning 24 soon and still without even a friend in the world.

Because of the arduous training, she had endured as a child Morgana’s social skills had never developed properly, whenever she had any prolonged interactions with people at her father’s business Morgana could become quite crass and rude. Her preferred method of communication was deadpan sarcasm and snide remarks, she hadn’t ever thought about it but sometimes she would catch herself being rather angry at the world. She knew it wasn’t the fault of those around her but she couldn’t help it, most of the time it felt as though her very core was made purely of rage. A rage that was for her father, the uncaring world who never saved her from him, and, for her ancestor Derek Walker who started this whole mess.

However, there was always the thought of herself finding her life partner that calmed the raging beast within. Morgana knew the idea of herself finding that person wasn’t impossible but in her mind, if her life continued down the same path it was, the chances of finding the love of her life were slim to none. Morgana groaned to herself deciding it was finally time to stop wallowing in self-pity, she got up and started making herself some dinner. She decided on a Swedish meatball recipe she found on the internet, deciding to pair the main dish with some roasted asparagus and a glass of red wine. Or maybe two, or three. It depended on if her rage would subside or not throughout the night.

As Morgana cooked her dinner she had turned on the TV and went over to Disney+, from there she put on her favorite childhood show ‘Criminal Minds’. She would watch this show all the time with her mother before she died, her mother was Morgana’s best and only friend while she grew up. While her father preferred her to pretend she was a boy, her mother always reminded her of her own inner beauty. That it didn’t matter how short her father cut her hair, it didn’t matter how many colors were banned from their home, none of it mattered as long as she remembered who she was inside. “Your father can take away everything you own, even your name, but he can never take away your heart. He can never steal your soul, he is after all only human!” Morgana remembered her mother's words as the show’s theme started.

Morgana raised her hand and clutched the heart-shaped locket that hung on a thin golden chain around her neck, her mother’s ashes were held in the center of the heart. Her mother always was her heart, her mother was her kindness and joy, Morgana could still remember the day it all happened. The day her father had murdered her mother. Morgana was only thirteen when it happened, she could remember the screaming and shouting between the low and booming voice of her father and the stern yet calm voice of her mother. They were at the top of the grand staircase of the Walker Mansion that served as their summer home in Miami, Morgana was hidden behind a large pillar as she listened to the argument being had;

“You can’t keep doing this to her Marshal! You’re going to psychologically scar her for life, making her pretend she’s some one she’s not… Marshal you can’t even say her name!” Pleaded her mother.

Marshal walker glared down at his wife as he spoke, “Rosanna! Enough! That child the future of the Walker empire! I will not tolerate softness! I will not tolerate weakness! That child-“

“THAT CHILD?! THAT CHILD?!!!” Rosanna shouted as she interrupted the tall looming man, “That child is your DAUGHTER! Do you know how many fathers there are out there who wish they had a daughter?! To love! To cherish! To protect! Your DAUGHTERS name is MORGANA! An-and she is beautiful, and, she is talented! My god Marshal is she ever SO brilliantly talented! And so so so smart! Open your eyes Marshal!” Rosanna was pleading with her whole body and soul.

Marshal sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head as he spoke dangerously quiet “Rosanna, you will drop this topic. This. Instant…”

Rosanna had then made her fatal mistake, Rosanna laid her palms on his chest and took hold of his shirt. She looked up at the muscular hulk with utter defiance as she spoke “you are the reason she is so full of anger… You are the reason my baby is hurting, and I promised her the first time I held her in my arms I would never let her suffer…”

“Rosanna, are you threatening me?” Marshal took a step forwards, taking a fistful of her hair to yank her head backward. Marshal turned them sideways so Rosanna’s back was to the staircase, however, Rosanna never faltered. She never blinked, not once. “You are the reason she is weak… You see I also made my child a promise when she was born, I promised her that I would never let her be pathetic…” his voice was eerily calm, sinister, and venomous.

The next part always played out in slow motion in Morgana’s mind, with a single quick motion Marshal extended his free hand knocking her mother backward as he struck her throat. Morgana watched in silent horror as her mother fall down the stairs, it felt like it took hours for her mother’s lifeless body to hit the floor. Morgana was frozen still, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to even cry. Her father slowly sauntered down the stairs stopping to make sure her mother was dead, when he had confirmed the kill he called for a butler to have the body taken care of. Morgana had never been able to shed a single tear since.

Two things brought her back to reality, the smell of her food starting to burn but mostly it was the loud gunshot sounds from her TV. Morgana hadn’t realized how long she had zoned out for, she was still standing in the middle of the open room clutching her mother’s ashes. “Mom… I miss you…” Morgana mumbled to herself before turning back to tend to her food. She quickly plated everything before sitting down on her couch and enjoying her meal and show.

Morgana was able to get through a couple of episodes and even through a couple of bottles of wine. She found as the hours grew darker her mind was also wandering to darker and far crueler places. It was closest to 7 pm and Morgana was about to call it an early night, she wasn’t feeling very much herself. Her thoughts were far angrier than usual. Morgana had put everything away and cleaned up after herself before grabbing her phone and heading towards her bedroom, ready to just let the warm hands of Mr. Sandman cradle her into a peaceful drunken sleep.

She entered her bedroom, changed into some pajamas, and just as Morgana was just about to pull back her sheets to slip into her soft mattress her phone started to chime.

Marshal Walker had texted her, and she had a new mission to complete. Great.