Updated Jan 5, 2026 • ~6 min read
POV: Morgana
The wound should have killed me.
Pack hunter’s claws had raked across my side during the battle. Deep. Bleeding heavily. The kind of injury that required hospitals and stitches and prayer.
Except it was healing. Fast. Way too fast for human.
I watched in the bathroom mirror as the torn flesh knit back together. Skin closing. Scabs forming then falling away to reveal smooth skin underneath.
Two hours. A wound that should have taken weeks healed in two hours.
“What the hell,” I whispered.
There was a knock. Rory’s voice: “Morgana? You okay in there?”
I opened the door. Showed her my side. “Does this look normal to you?”
Her eyes widened. “That was—you were bleeding everywhere. How—”
“I don’t know. But it’s not the first weird thing.” I pulled out my phone. Showed her photos from the past year. “Remember when I fell down the stairs last month? Broke my arm? It healed in three days. Or when I got that concussion from the car accident? Fine the next morning.”
“You’ve been healing too fast.”
“And I didn’t think anything of it because who questions being healthy? But Rory—this is supernatural. Paranormal. I’m not human.”
Fen appeared in the doorway. Studied me with those amber eyes. “You smell different. Always have. Not wolf. Not human. Something else.”
“What else is there?”
“Fae. You smell like wild magic. Old magic. Fae bloodlines.”
“I’m fae?”
“Partially. Half, maybe. Or dormant fae genes that are activating.” He moved closer. Sniffed. “Your magic is waking. Probably triggered by proximity to the bond. To Rory’s awakening. Supernatural events can trigger dormant genetics.”
“So I’m what? A fairy?”
“Fae. Not fairy. There’s a difference. Fairies are small, nature spirits. Fae are powerful. Immortal. Dangerous.” He gestured to my healing wound. “That healing? That’s minor fae magic. You probably have more. Just haven’t discovered it yet.”
Rory gripped my arm. “Do you know what this means? You’re not human either. You’re like me. Hybrid. Mixed bloodline.”
“Which means what? I’m in danger too?”
“Or you’re powerful,” Fen said. “Fae magic is rare. Valuable. If you can learn to access it, control it, you’d be a serious asset in the coming fight.”
“I don’t want to be an asset. I want to be a paranormal investigator who STUDIES the supernatural, not becomes it.”
“Too late,” Rory said gently. “You’re already part of it. Have been your whole life. You just didn’t know.”
I sank onto the couch. Processed. I’d spent years researching the paranormal. Writing blog posts about folklore and legends. Helping others discover their supernatural heritage.
Never once considered I might be supernatural myself.
“Do you think my parents knew?” I asked.
“Maybe. Probably. Fae bloodlines usually know what they are. Someone in your family had to have known.” Fen sat across from me. “Who raised you?”
“My grandmother. Parents died when I was young. Car accident.”
“Or something that looked like a car accident. Fae politics can be brutal. If your parents were full or half fae, someone might have wanted them gone.”
The paranoia was too much. “You’re saying my parents were murdered?”
“I’m saying it’s possible. Like Rory’s mother. Like a lot of mixed-bloodline deaths that look like accidents.” He leaned forward. “Morgana, the supernatural world is dangerous. Hidden. Violent. And now that you’re waking up, now that your magic is emerging, people will notice. Will want to use you or kill you.”
“Great. So I’m a target too.”
“You’re protected. By us. By the bond. And by your own power once you learn to access it.” Rory squeezed my hand. “We’ll figure this out together.”
“This is insane.”
“Welcome to my life.”
Over the next hours, Fen tested my abilities. Had me try to access magic. Feel for the power he said was there.
Nothing happened. No sparks. No light. No proof I was anything other than a woman who healed fast.
“Try emotion,” Fen suggested. “Fae magic responds to intense feeling. Fear. Anger. Love. Try to remember something that made you feel strongly.”
I thought about my parents. Their deaths. The grandmother who’d raised me with stern love and cryptic warnings to “stay away from the old forests” and “never make deals with strangers.”
Warnings that suddenly made sense.
Rage flooded through me. At being lied to. At losing my parents. At twenty-eight years of being kept in the dark.
Magic exploded.
Golden light erupted from my hands. Pure fae magic. The apartment furniture flew back. Windows shattered. Power crackling through the air.
“Stop!” Fen commanded. “Morgana, pull it back. Control it.”
I couldn’t. The magic was overwhelming. Too much. Too strong. Out of control.
Rory grabbed my hands. “Look at me. Focus on me. Pull it back. You’re okay. You’re safe. Just breathe.”
Her voice cut through the chaos. I focused on her face. Her hands holding mine. The bond between her and Fen somehow steadying my magic.
Slowly, the power dimmed. Retreated. Went back to wherever it had been hiding.
When it stopped, the apartment was trashed. Furniture overturned. Windows broken. Scorch marks on the walls.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“That’s strong fae magic,” Fen said, looking impressed. “Raw. Untrained. But powerful. With practice, you could be formidable.”
“I don’t want to be formidable. I want to not destroy my apartment.”
“You’ll learn control. Like Rory learned to shift. It takes time. Practice. But you’ll get there.”
Rory helped me clean up. Used her magic to repair some of the damage. Together, we made the apartment livable again.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For dragging you into this. For being another complication.”
“You’re not a complication. You’re my best friend. And finding out you’re fae? That’s actually good news. Means we have more than just wolf power. Means we’re building something bigger than pack politics.”
“What are we building?”
“A family. Of outcasts. Mixed bloodlines. People who don’t fit anywhere else.” She smiled. “Kinda perfect, actually.”
Later, alone in my trashed apartment, I called my grandmother.
“You knew,” I said when she answered. “About the fae blood. About what I am. You’ve always known.”
Silence. Then: “I was protecting you.”
“By lying? By hiding what I am?”
“By keeping you alive. Your parents died because they revealed themselves. Because they tried to live openly as fae-human hybrids. The fae courts killed them. I raised you human to keep you safe.”
“I’m not safe. I’m waking up. The magic is coming whether I want it or not.”
“Then learn control. Fast. Because once the fae courts know you exist, they’ll come for you. They always do.”
She hung up.
I sat in the darkness processing. I wasn’t human. My parents were murdered. I had fae magic I couldn’t control.
And somehow, I was still the sanest person in this group.
Which said a lot about our situation.
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