REJECTED BY THE ROGUE PRINCE

Blood Of The Ancient

ROWENA

When my vision cleared, I was no longer in the forest.

I stood in a vast hall made entirely of crystal. It glowed from within, casting rainbow light across walls that stretched up into darkness. The air was so cold that each breath turned to fog, but I felt no discomfort.

"Where am I?" I spun around, looking for anything familiar.

"You are in the place between," a voice said.

I whirled to find the old witch standing beside me. Except she looked different here. Younger, straighter, her power radiating from her like heat.

"Between what?" I asked.

"Between the world you know and the world that was." She walked forward. "Come. There is much you need to see."

The crystal walls began to shift and change. Images formed in their depths.

I saw wolves. Hundreds of them, thousands, running together under a full moon. But they were not alone. Witches rode on some of their backs, hands raised and glowing with magic. Humans fought alongside them. And there were others. Creatures I had no names for.

"This was the world before the Great Pack Wars," the witch said. "Before the wolves decided they were superior to all others."

The images changed. Now I saw war. Wolves turning on their allies, tearing through witch covens and human villages. Blood stained the ground red.

"The wolves wanted dominance," the witch continued. "They claimed the Moon Goddess had chosen them to rule. But in their hunger for power, they destroyed the balance."

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked.

The witch turned to look at me, and her eyes were ancient.

"Your mother, Elara, came from a bloodline that predates the wolves. Her ancestors were the Bridge Keepers. Humans who could channel the old magic, who maintained the balance between all the realms. When she married your father, she hoped her children might carry that gift forward."

"Thomas has his wolf," I said. "He is normal."

"Thomas carries your father's blood more strongly. But you, Rowena." The witch reached out and touched my forehead. "You are your mother's daughter in every way that matters. The wolf blood in you is weak. But the Bridge Keeper magic is strong. Stronger than any we have seen in three generations."

The crystal walls showed me a new image. A woman who looked remarkably like my mother, standing in a clearing. Power flowed from her hands, green and gold and silver.

"That is your grandmother," the witch said. "Elena Thornwood. She was the last true Bridge Keeper before your mother."

"My mother never told me any of this," I whispered.

"Because your father forbade it. He was a proud wolf, determined that his children would follow his path. Your mother agreed to hide her heritage to keep peace. But she never forgot who she was. And she made us promise that if you came to us, we would teach you."

The images faded. We stood again in the empty crystal hall.

"So I am not broken," I said slowly. "I never was."

"No, child. You are simply something different. Something the wolves do not understand."

Relief flooded through me so intensely that my knees went weak.

"What happened in the forest?" I asked. "When those rogues attacked."

The witch smiled. "Your power recognized danger and responded. Bridge Keeper magic is protective by nature. The rogues felt that ancient power and knew they were in the presence of something that predated their kind."

"Can it unmake them?"

"Yes," she said simply. "But that is a lesson for later. First, you must learn to control what you have."

The crystal hall began to dissolve around us. I felt a pulling sensation.

"Wait!" I called out. "How long will this training take?"

The witch's voice echoed as the world went white. "Time moves differently here, child. What feels like weeks to you will be only a night in the outside world. Trust in the magic."

Then I was back in the clearing, surrounded by the circle of witches. But I felt different. Heavier. More solid.

The old witch released my hand. "You have seen. Now you must learn to do."

What followed was the most intense night of my life.

The witches taught me to feel the magic that ran through everything. The trees, the earth, the air itself. They showed me how to pull threads of power and weave them into shapes. How to speak to the spirits that lived in the spaces between things.

I was clumsy at first. But slowly, painfully, I began to understand.

One of the younger witches, a woman named Morrigan with red hair and kind eyes, became my primary teacher. She showed me how to call small lights to my hands, how to sense emotions, how to shield my mind.

"You learn quickly," Morrigan said as I successfully conjured a sphere of golden light. "Your mother's gift runs true in you."

"I wish she were here," I said softly.

"She is here." Morrigan touched my chest, right over my heart. "In your blood, in your bones. Every time you use this power, you honor her memory."

As the night wore on, I felt myself changing. The empty place where my wolf should have been was filling with something else. Something that felt right.

Near dawn, the old witch called me back to the center of the clearing.

"You have learned the basics," she said. "But there is one more thing you must know."

She drew a knife from her robes. Before I could react, she cut her palm and let three drops of blood fall onto the ground. The earth drank them eagerly, and where they fell, silver flowers bloomed.

"Blood magic is the oldest and most powerful kind," she said. "Bridge Keepers can use it to seal oaths, to mark territory, to bind or break curses. Your mother used her own blood magic to protect you when you were born."

"Protect me how?" I asked.

"She knew the wolves would reject a child without their gifts, so she wove a protection around you. A spell that would keep you hidden from those who might harm you for being different."

"Hidden how?"

"To wolf senses, you appear weak. Forgettable. Easy to overlook." The witch smiled grimly. "Your mother hoped it would keep you safe until you were old enough to find us and learn the truth."

I thought about all the times people had looked past me. The way my own father seemed to forget I existed. The way Prince Aldric had found it so easy to cast me aside.

"The spell is fading now," the witch continued. "As your true power awakens, the protection your mother wove grows thinner. Soon, others will begin to see you differently. This will bring both opportunity and danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"There are those who remember the Bridge Keepers. Who remembers what your kind could do? The wolves destroyed your people once because they feared that power. If they learn what you are, they may try to destroy you, too."

Fear curled in my stomach. "Then what should I do?"

"You should become so powerful that they cannot destroy you even if they try." The old witch's eyes blazed. "You should master every gift your bloodline offers. And then you should remind the world that wolves are not the only ones chosen for greatness."

She pressed something into my hand. A pendant on a silver chain, shaped like a tree with roots that turned into wings.

"This belonged to your mother. Wear it. It will help you channel your power more easily."

I clasped the pendant around my neck. Immediately, I felt a rush of warmth. The magic inside me, which had felt wild and uncontrollable, suddenly settled into something manageable.

"Thank you," I said to all of them. "For everything."

The old witch nodded. "You are welcome here always, Rowena Blackwater. This is your heritage, your birthright. Never forget that."

The sun was rising as I walked back down the path to where Thomas waited. He was exactly where I had left him.

He leaped up when he saw me. "Rowena! Are you all right? What happened?"

I looked down at my hands. Small lights danced across my fingers. Golden and green and silver.

"Everything has changed," I said, smiling. "Thomas, I am not broken. I never was. I am a Bridge Keeper. My mother's daughter. And I am going to become more powerful than anyone ever imagined."

Thomas stared at the lights, then at my face. Slowly, his expression shifted to something like pride.

"Well then," he said. "I suppose we should get you home so you can start proving that."

We mounted our horses and began the long journey back. But I was not the same person who had left. That girl had been lost, desperate, broken.

This girl knew exactly who she was, and she had plans.