The Return of Princess Morgana

Morgana's POV “Princess Morgana Valthorne of the Draevenor Clan, summon your wolf spirit this day, and let your bloodline be proven!” The Elder announced. His voice echoed across the palace courtyard, where members of the four ancient clans had gathered to witness my trial. I stood before them, fighting to keep my hands from trembling. I had waited for this day my entire life, yet now that it had arrived, fear threatened to overwhelm me. The Valkharis Kingdom had stood for centuries under the rule of four powerful clans: Vaeltharyn, Oryndrath, Bloodmoon, and Draevenor, my own clan. Among them, the Draevenors held the throne and enforced the ancient laws that determined which bloodlines were worthy of power. My mother had ruled the kingdom for twenty years. She was respected, feared, and loved by many. Six months ago, she died in battle, leaving me without a mother and our kingdom without its queen. As her only child, I should have inherited the throne. Instead, I had become the subject of cruel rumours. People whispered that I wasn't truly my mother's daughter. Some questioned my father's identity, while others claimed my birth had been a secret she was ashamed of. Today, on my eighteenth birthday, I was supposed to prove them wrong. If I failed, I could lose everything. I glanced down at my flowing white gown and took a deep breath. My blonde hair fell over my shoulders, and the morning sunlight made my pale skin appear almost transparent. Before me stood the Eternal Moon Sentinel, an ancient statue carved from sacred white stone. According to our traditions, the first Wolf Queen had awakened her connection to the White Wolf Spirit through this monument. Every rightful Draevenor heir was expected to receive the same blessing upon reaching adulthood. I had dreamed of this moment since childhood. I wanted to stand where my mother had stood and show the kingdom that I was worthy of her legacy. Hundreds of eyes followed me as I approached the statue. I recognised several clan leaders in the crowd, but I avoided looking at them. Their expectations were already difficult enough to bear. I placed my right palm against the cold stone and closed my eyes. “Mother, today I come of age. I will summon my wolf spirit and become a queen like you.” For a moment, I remembered her standing tall in the palace, commanding respect without raising her voice. I remembered how people bowed when she passed and how confidently she carried the weight of the kingdom. I had always believed I would become just like her. Then warmth spread beneath my palm. White flames erupted from the statue, bathing the courtyard in brilliant light. I opened my eyes, my heart pounding with excitement. It was happening. But before I could celebrate, the flames disappeared. The statue stood motionless, as though nothing had happened. I stared at it, waiting for another sign. Nothing came. A murmur rose from the crowd. “What is happening?” someone asked. “Why is there no answer?” My fingers pressed harder against the stone. I couldn't understand it. I had felt the power. The flames had been real. I turned towards the clan leaders standing in the front row. Therone Ashbourne, the formidable Alpha of the Bloodmoon Clan, watched me with an unreadable expression. Beside him stood Casian Vexley, Alpha of the Vaeltharyn Clan, his attention fixed on the statue. Then I saw my aunt, Seraphina Valthorne. She stood beside her daughter, Elena. Neither looked surprised by my failure. Elena was smiling. My stomach tightened as she glanced at her mother. Seraphina returned the look, and the exchange sent an uncomfortable chill through me. “Morgana, you carry royal blood. You're the late queen's only child. Why can you not summon a wolf spirit?” Seraphina asked. Her words struck me in front of the entire kingdom. I could feel hundreds of eyes turning towards me, waiting for an explanation I didn't have. My aunt had never been particularly warm towards me, but I had never expected her to humiliate me during my own trial. “Aunty, I…” I stuttered. “I do not know…” “Your mother never had a mate even when she carried you. If no wolf spirit will answer your call then you're nothing but a half-blooded mongrel!” Seraphina interrupted. Mongrel. The word cut deeper than any blade. In our kingdom, mongrels were considered inferior because their bloodlines did not meet the ancient clans' standards. They were denied privileges and treated as threats to the purity of werewolf ancestry. Now my own aunt was calling me one. My mother had always avoided questions about my father. Whenever I asked, she changed the subject or reminded me that nothing could take away my place beside her. I had accepted her answers because I trusted her. Standing before the kingdom that had once bowed to her, I began to wonder what she had kept from me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and faced Seraphina. “Aunt, please let me try once more!” I pleaded, my voice shaking. I no longer cared whether anyone thought me weak. If I failed, Seraphina and her supporters could use it to challenge my claim to the throne. The rumours would become more than whispers, and my mother's legacy might be taken from me. I turned back to the statue and slammed my palm against it. A thunderous sound shook the courtyard. Most of spectators stumbled as white flames burst across the monument, curling around my fingers before vanishing again. I stumbled backwards, staring at my hand. Nothing. “No… this cannot be!” I gasped, tears slipping down my cheeks. “What is happening to me?” I had followed every instruction. I had said the prayer and touched the sacred statue as tradition demanded. Yet the spirit that should have answered me seemed determined to reject me. The crowd's silence felt worse than their whispers. I could sense their disappointment and suspicion closing in around me. I wanted my mother. I wanted her to stand beside me, take my hand, and tell everyone that I belonged here. I wanted her to explain why the power she had commanded so effortlessly refused to answer me. Most of all, I wanted to know what was wrong with me. Then the air changed. Heat swept across my face, and the statue began trembling beneath my hand. Thin cracks of brilliant white light spread across its surface. Before I could move, a towering column of white fire burst from the monument and shot into the sky. The flames twisted above the palace, forming the shape of an enormous white wolf. Its massive paws rested on the statue's upper ledge, while its luminous body filled the courtyard with an overwhelming power. The White Wolf Spirit had answered. A wave of energy swept through the gathering. People stumbled backwards, shielding their faces, while others stared at the creature in disbelief. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. The wolf was magnificent, far more powerful than anything I had imagined. Something deep inside me stirred in response to its presence. Warmth spread from my palm through my arm and into my chest. It settled there like a second heartbeat, strong and unfamiliar. For the first time that morning, I felt something other than fear. Hope. I had not failed. The spirit had answered me, and no one could deny what they had witnessed. But when I looked towards the front row, my relief faded. Seraphina's confident expression had vanished. She stared at the enormous wolf with wide eyes, her face drained of colour. Elena had stopped smiling, too, and moved closer to her mother. There was fear in their faces. Why would they be afraid of the spirit that had just answered my call? Elena leaned towards Seraphina, keeping her voice low enough that only those nearby could hear. “Mother, did you not seal away the former queen’s power as Wolf Queen?”