Updated Mar 10, 2026 • ~8 min read
Six years after the first encounter.
Catherine is seven years old.
Confident. Powerful. Good-hearted.
She’s learned control. Practices magic daily with Sera and Damien supervising.
Creating light. Moving objects. Helping plants grow.
Small, beautiful magic.
The kind that makes the world better.
“You’re doing so well,” Sera tells her after a particularly successful lesson.
“Can I try something bigger?”
“Like what?”
“Healing. Lilith’s book says powerful magic users can heal injuries.”
“That’s very advanced. Let’s wait a few more years.”
Catherine pouts but agrees.
She’s learned patience too.
The threat of Morgana has faded to background noise.
Six years without contact. Without attacks.
Even Damien has stopped constantly preparing.
“Maybe she really is gone,” he admits one evening.
“Or maybe she’s waiting for us to lower our guard.”
“Always the pessimist now?”
“I learned from the best.”
They laugh.
Roles reversed. Sera the worried one. Damien the hopeful.
Growth.
Then, on a perfectly normal Tuesday, everything changes.
Catherine is playing in the garden.
Creating small lights. Making them dance.
Sera is watching from the patio.
And a woman appears.
Not walking in. Just suddenly there.
Morgana.
“Hello, cousin.”
Catherine looks up. Curious. Not afraid.
“Who are you?”
“I’m family. Distant family. Haven’t we met?”
“I don’t think so.”
Morgana smiles.
Cold. Calculating.
“You have remarkable power for someone so young. Have your parents taught you well?”
“They teach me good magic. To help people.”
“How quaint. But magic isn’t about helping, dear. It’s about power. Control. Taking what you want.”
Catherine frowns.
“That’s bad magic.”
“There’s no such thing as bad magic. Only weak magic and strong magic. Which are you?”
Before Catherine can answer, Sera is there.
Between Morgana and her daughter.
“Get away from her.”
“Ah, the mother. Still alive. How disappointing.”
“Last warning. Leave. Now.”
Morgana laughs.
“You’re going to threaten me? You barely survived our last encounter. And that was without your precious daughter in the crossfire.”
Damien appears. Beast partially emerged. Ready to fight.
“We beat you once. We’ll do it again.”
“You didn’t beat me. You got lucky. And luck runs out.”
She raises her hand.
Magic gathering.
“I’ll make you a deal. Give me the girl. She’s wasted on you. I can train her properly. Teach her real power. And I’ll leave you alone.”
“Never,” Sera and Damien say in unison.
“Then we do this the hard way.”
Morgana attacks.
Magic explodes toward Catherine.
Sera throws up a shield.
It holds. Barely.
Damien charges in beast form.
Morgana deflects him effortlessly.
They’re outmatched. Badly.
“Catherine, run!” Sera screams. “Get to Marcus! Now!”
But Catherine doesn’t run.
She steps forward.
Small. Seven years old. Facing down a centuries-old witch.
And releases her power.
The magic is brilliant.
Pure light. No darkness.
It slams into Morgana’s attack.
Disperses it.
The witch stares.
“Impossible. A child can’t have that much power.”
“I’m not just a child. I’m their child.”
Catherine concentrates.
Drawing on everything she’s learned. Everything she is.
And the family bond activates.
Not just her power. All three of theirs.
Sera. Damien. Catherine.
United. Amplified.
More powerful together than any individual.
The magic surges.
Overwhelms Morgana.
Throws her back.
She crashes into the forest edge.
Struggling to stand.
“This isn’t over,” she hisses.
“Yes it is,” Catherine says. Voice steady. Certain. “You hurt my family. You threatened us. That’s not okay. Go away and don’t come back.”
“You think you can command me? You’re a child!”
“I’m a child with family. You’re alone. We win.”
Morgana snarls.
Prepares another attack.
But something stops her.
A memory. A realization.
Isolde was alone when she died. Defeated by family bonds she didn’t understand.
Morgana is alone now. Facing that same bond.
She could fight. Probably lose. Die like her sister.
Or she could retreat. Live. Find another target.
Pride wars with survival.
Survival wins.
“This isn’t over,” she repeats.
But it sounds weaker now. Less certain.
She vanishes.
Gone.
Again.
The moment she’s gone, Catherine collapses.
Exhausted from the magic.
Sera catches her.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. You did so well.”
“Did I stop her?”
“You did. You were so brave.”
“I was scared.”
“Being brave means being scared and doing it anyway. You were perfect.”
Damien returns to human form.
Kneels beside them.
“Our daughter just faced down a centuries-old witch and won.”
“She’s remarkable.”
“She’s terrifying.”
“That too.”
Catherine looks up at both of them.
“Is she gone forever?”
“I don’t know,” Damien says honestly. “But even if she comes back, we’ll be ready. Together.”
“Together,” Catherine repeats.
She likes that word.
That night, they have a family meeting.
Catherine included. She earned it.
“Morgana will come back,” Damien says. “That’s certain now. The question is when and how prepared we are.”
“What do we do?” Catherine asks.
“We train harder. We strengthen our bond. We prepare.”
“Can I go to the magical academy Aunt Lilith mentioned?”
Sera and Damien exchange looks.
“You want to go?”
“I need to be stronger. To protect you. To protect our family. The academy can teach me.”
“You’re seven.”
“I’m powerful. And powerful needs responsible. That’s what you taught me.”
She’s right.
They know she’s right.
But sending their daughter away to boarding school, even a magical one, feels impossible.
“We’ll think about it,” Sera says finally. “Research the academy. Make sure it’s safe. Then decide together.”
“Okay.”
Catherine accepts this.
She’s learned negotiation too.
Over the next weeks, they investigate.
The Avalon Academy for Gifted Youth.
Located in the Scottish Highlands. Prestigious. Well-protected.
They train young magic users. Teach control, ethics, responsibility.
Alumni include some of the most powerful and good magic practitioners in Europe.
It’s safe. Reputable.
Everything Catherine needs.
“She’d only be there during terms,” Sera says, reading the literature. “Home for holidays and summers. And we could visit monthly.”
“She’s seven.”
“She’s powerful. And Morgana knows about her now. Catherine needs real training or she’ll be vulnerable.”
Damien knows she’s right.
But his heart rebels.
“I don’t want to send our daughter away.”
“Neither do I. But we love her enough to do what’s best. Even when it hurts.”
They present the option to Catherine.
Let her decide.
“The academy would teach you everything we can’t. Help you be as powerful and good as possible. But it means leaving home for most of the year.”
Catherine considers.
Seven years old but wise beyond her years.
“Would I make friends?”
“Probably. Other children with magic like yours.”
“And I’d come home sometimes?”
“Every holiday. Every summer. And we can visit.”
“Would you be safe without me? If Morgana comes back?”
“We were handling witches before you were born. We’ll manage.”
Catherine thinks.
Then nods.
“I want to go. To learn. To be strong enough to protect everyone.”
Sera’s heart breaks.
But she’s so proud.
“Then we’ll enroll you. For next term.”
“Next term isn’t until autumn. That’s months away.”
“Gives us time to prepare. To spend together. To make sure this is right.”
“Okay.”
Catherine hugs both her parents.
“I love you. Even if I’m going away.”
“We love you too. Always. No matter where you are.”
The months pass too quickly.
Summer filled with family time. Teaching Catherine everything they can.
Magic. Life skills. Love.
September approaches.
The day to leave for the academy.
They pack her trunk together.
Robes. Books. Personal items.
The stuffed bear Marcus gave her when she was born.
“For homesickness,” she says.
The journey to Scotland is bittersweet.
Catherine excited. Nervous.
Sera and Damien trying not to cry.
The academy is beautiful.
Castle-like. Ancient. Magical.
Perfect for their daughter.
They meet her headmistress. Her dormitory leader. See her room.
Small but cozy. Shared with another girl her age.
“You’ll do wonderfully here,” Sera tells her.
“I know. I’m nervous but good nervous.”
“That’s called excitement.”
“Then I’m excited.”
They hug goodbye.
Long. Tight. Neither wanting to let go.
“Be good. Be safe. Be yourself.”
“I will. I promise.”
They leave her there.
Their daughter. Their miracle.
Growing up.
Learning.
Becoming who she’s meant to be.
The journey home is quiet.
Both processing.
Their child is gone. Not forever. But enough.
“The manor will be too quiet,” Damien says.
“It will. But she’ll be back for Christmas. Three months.”
“Three months feels like forever.”
“I know.”
They hold hands.
And mourn the passage of time.
The inevitable growing up.
The bittersweet pride of watching your child become independent.
It hurts.
But it’s right.
And sometimes, right things hurt most of all.
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