The Trial of Sovereigns

The candle in her room flickered as Morrigan Blackthorn stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Taking in the ruby red ball gown embroidered with patterns of golden hand-sown flames - the symbol of her coven. She was proud to be a Blackthorn, after all, it was the most powerful coven in Cindara. Her reflections gazed back at her, stuck between two worlds. A powerful witch, a Blackthorn, yet today she was just an exhibit, something to be paraded in front of the other houses and royals.

The Trial of the Sovereign was just days away, and tonight's ball marked its start. She didn’t care for the charade of it all. From the moment she was born, Morrigan has always dreamed of fighting in the Trial. Now, twenty years later she finally got the chance to attend her first-ever trial and she intended to win. The Trial was originally established centuries ago after a bloody war nearly destroyed the realm, the games serve as both a way to prevent war and a method to settle disputes between the kingdoms without bloodshed on the battlefield. Victory brings immense honor to the royal family and often sways political power and alliances.

This ball was mostly meant for the royal families to showcase their participants, as well as for the participants to get a glimpse of each other before the games began and they faced each other on the field. The main houses of the four kingdoms used this as an opportunity to assert dominance by showcasing their heirs and ensuring that no other houses would challenge their claim to the throne. Morrigan knew how important this was for her family, for her father.

She couldn't help the knot in her stomach. The games were brutal. Nobody ever knew what the challenges would be, but what everyone knew was, that the games weren’t just for honor or glory. They were a deadly contest—a fight for survival.

Morrigan stared at her reflection once again. Her hair was a deep, dark red, like the color of old wine kissed by the setting sun. Though she was shorter than most of her peers, in battle, she turned her height into an advantage, using her smaller frame to her benefit. Her biggest advantage was that people underestimated her due to her small and delicate-looking figure. Which most of the time ended up in her favor. Sometimes she'd even catch herself acting more feminine and fragile just so people would have this false image of her, that she'd been building since a young age.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face and took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she exhaled. Before leaving her room she offered herself a tight smile that didn't quite reach her ears. As the door, she heard her father's voice from behind her. "Perfect timing, my darling daughter," he said, taking her hand and gently tucking it into his, which he had already extended toward her. Her father slowly guided her to the ballroom while offering her the newest intel about the contestants.

"I've heard much about Sylas, my darling. They say he's a formidable warrior, whether in his wolf form or out of it. Fae like him—large and strong—are slow on their feet. You must use that to your advantage. Strike swiftly and knock them off balance before they can react," he informed his daughter, gently patting her hand with his other, offering comfort. "Now, I'm sure you're familiar with Althea. She'll come for you in these trials. You're my only heir every witch from every coven throughout this kingdom will try to kill you in these trials," he informed her with a worried look. "Don't worry father. I'm a Blackthorne, they'll be digging their own grave the second they seek me out in the trials," she answered, tilting her chin up high, right before the massive doors to the ballroom opened with one wave of her father's hand.

Everyone’s gaze snapped toward them as the door closed behind them. Her father had timed their arrival deliberately, ensuring they came in late just to command attention. He then continued to guide her down the stairs towards the dance floor and the tables, that were piled with drinks and delicious food.

Morrigan swept her gaze over the crowd. The Valions were gathered to the side, their wings folded behind them like delicate feathered banners. Gabriel Valion, heir to Aetheris, stood at the front, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face as he spoke to the others.

As if he could feel her gaze on him his eyes met hers across the room, and the familiar surge of annoyance shot through her. He was always so… infuriatingly smug. The way he carried himself as if he already knew he would win the Trial infuriated her. Gabriel offered her one last smug look before turning his attention back to his feathered friend.

As she walked further into the hall, the orchestra played a soft melody, the violins echoing through the immense hall. Morrigan wasn't listening to the music, her attention remained on Gabriel ... he wore his arrogance like armor.

"You're glaring at him again," her father murmured beside her not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. "Well, unfortunately, I can’t seem to avoid noticing his annoying face—and the way he stands there smugly as if he’s already won this trial," Morrigan replies and turns her head in the other direction. She scans the room once again this time noticing Sylas, the heir to Sylvannis—the home to all fae. Her father was right, he was indeed huge. Even though deep down she knew she could take him down if need be, she wouldn't be foolish enough to seek him out during the trials.

A few meters away from the fae prince stood a tall female with raven-black hair, her gaze fixed on Morrigan. The way her pointed ears peeked through her straight hair made it clear she was a fae shifter, likely a participant in the trials. "She's the daughter of Alaric and Maeve Caldrae, a small house in Sylvannis," he explained noticing his daughter's gaze. "Her name is Illyana, I've heard that she's a Lynx shifter, but other than that there isn't much talk of her," he continued. "If I remember correctly she has a younger brother, but he's still too young to be participating so I guess he'll have his turn in 10 years then," he states and lets go of her hand slowly. Morrigan shifted her attention from Illyana to her father, who was already greeting the king of Aerthis. Tobias pulled her father into a tight hug, and they both erupted in laughter at something funny he had said. They had always shared a deep bond, almost like brothers, if she were to be honest.

"Well, well if it isn't the Blackthorn witchling herself," she heard a deep voice tease from beside her.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed slightly, and a flicker of irritation took over her face. She recognized that voice instantly—Gabriel. The smirk in his tone made her immediately turn on her heel to face him with an irritated look painted all across her face. "Well if it isn't Prince Charming in the flesh," she snapped back furrowing her brows scarcely. Gabriel's grin only widened at her snappy response and irritation-dripped voice. His black hair gleamed in the brightly illuminated hall. His tall and firm figure almost cast a shadow over her as his hazel green eyes narrowed down at her. "Ah, the Blackthorn witchling has a bite to match her fire," he teased, his voice laced with a mixture of admiration and mockery. "I had a feeling you’d be one to snap at a harmless greeting," he said innocently.

Morrigans jaw tightened, controlling herself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting too strongly. She then turned her face towards the hall and retorted "Harmless?" she said as she scanned the hall lazily, before snapping her gaze back at him "You must have a funny way of greeting people. Perhaps your manners were lost in the sky." Gabriel chuckled softly amused by her statement "The sky doesn't leave much room for formalities," he replied, shrugging with a carefree grin. "But maybe I'll make an exception, just for you. Maybe I'll bow next time," he said and after a long pause added "Your Highness." As the words rolled off his tongue, he made sure to present her with a mocking bow. Morrigan rolled her eyes as he continued to study her, clearly enjoying himself unlike her. "Don't you have other people on your list to torment?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. "We're not kids anymore, go find someone else to torture," she continued and served him a stern look.

Gabriel took a step closer to her and scanned her up and down with an almost lazy curiosity "True we're not," he replied, his voice turning a bit more thoughtful. "I barely recognized you at first," he said and let his gaze slide from her long, flowing hair to the curve of her body, taking in the way she had grown, since the last time he'd seen her. "I like this new look on you," he teased, grabbing her hand softly. She'd expected his grip to be rough but it was quite the opposite. Gabriel's grip was soft as if he was afraid she'd break like glass if he pressed too hard. He brought her hand towards his body, bowed his head lower, and pressed his lips against the top of her hand gently whilst keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed her lips twisted into a forced smile as she tried to keep her face straight. "Really?" she scoffed as he straightened up. "Oh, I'm just trying to remind you of the proper way to greet royalty, as per your request, princess," he teased, his words laced with mock sweetness.

Morrigan chuckled crossing her arms and raising one brow up at him. "If I wanted to see a performance I would've just saved myself the trouble and went to the theatre, Gabriel. Now go find someone else to torment," she said tapping her foot lightly.

“Well, this has been delightful, as always,” he said, his smirk never faltering. Morrigan scoffed in response rolling her eyes at him. Gabriel smirked his hazel green eyes gleaming with something darker beneath the surface. “Careful, Blackthorn,” he murmured, stepping just close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off him.

He leaned in, voice lowering like a predator circling its prey. “I'll see you in the Trials, Morrigan. Try not to disappoint me.” Gabriel winked, stepping back. “Don’t miss me too much,” he said before turning his back towards her and walking away and into the vast crowd.

Morrigan moved towards the great ballroom's edge for a better view of everyone. She needed to use this opportunity to size up her opponents. She was an heir, which meant they would come for her, either for glory or for her family's throne. She let her gaze sweep over the crowd of gathered nobles, the heirs and champions of the other kingdoms—all glittering in their finest silks and jewels. But she knew this was just for show. Deep down all of the competitors were killers, trained from a young age to take part in these annual Trials. Competing in these great trials and surviving was one of the greatest honors one could bring to their house and kingdom. The ballroom was filled with laughter and chatter but she knew the true purpose of these trials, she knew what came after. Beneath all the charm, they were all competition—people that wanted her head. And she was taking notes.

Her honey-brown eyes flickered toward Sylas Ashwood, the heir to Sylvannis, standing proudly near the beverage table with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His light brown hair, slightly overgrown, fell over his sharp features, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as if he could already taste victory. Morrigan had heard whispers about him—how his shapeshifting abilities made him an unpredictable opponent, a predator amongst prey. He’d be unpredictable, strong, but also cocky.

Her gaze moved on, landing next on Kaelen Voss of Thalassor, the water kingdom. He stood with effortless grace, his sapphire-colored attire reflecting his heritage. His long white hair flowed magically it almost looked like he was still in the water, and his dark blue eyes reflected the ocean. Morrigan had no doubt he could wield the tides like an artist with a brush, but water was slow to burn, and she had no intention of letting him get that close. Still, his cool, calculating expression told her he wasn’t one to underestimate. Next to him stood his twin sister, Serenya. They looked so alike if it wasn't for Serenyas short hair in contrast to his and her feminine features it would be hard to tell them apart. According to whispers, they were unbeatable when together. A force not to be reckoned with. Although these were merely whispers carried over the vast sea Morrigan knew she didn't want to test the theory out. She'd keep her distance for as long as she could and if she were ever to run into them she'd try her hardest to separate them before engaging in combat.

And then there was Gabriel Valion, heir to Aerthis. Whispers say they're angels that fell from the sky and therefore their wings turned black upon contact with the earth. But these were just faint whispers nobody truly knows how the winged kingdom got their wings. That knowledge has been lost to time. The Valions were known for their unmatched strength. His muscular build isn't just for show. Aerthis was known for producing the best-skilled swordsmen.

He prowled through the crowd with a predator’s ease, his dark wings half-furled at his back like a warning. His eyes swept the room, calculating, predatory, always watching—always on the hunt. A smirk tugged at his lips. It was the quiet promise of someone who knew exactly how to get under your skin—and stay there.

If their fathers weren’t as close as they were, Morrigan might have considered Gabriel the greatest threat in the Trials. There was something about the way he carried himself—sharp, calculating, and effortlessly dangerous. He didn’t boast like the others; he didn’t need to. And though she hated to admit it, his words from before left her wondering—was he toying with her, or did he truly intend to challenge her in the trials? The uncertainty was more irritating than the thought of facing him head-on.

The rest of the champions came from different houses within the kingdom. She observed the rest carefully trying her best to notice any weaknesses she might be able to take advantage of in the trials. Not a single motion in the ballroom went unnoticed by the Blackthorn heir.

A familiar unwelcome presence shifted behind her, and before she could turn around a sickly sweet voice spoke "Morrigan Blackthorn," Althea Morvath’s voice was like sweet poison, each syllable drawn out like a blade being unsheathed. "I was beginning to think you'd be too afraid to show up."

Morrigan didn't so much as move a singular muscle on her face. Instead, she took a slow sip from her glass taking her sweet time before answering in an uninterested tone “And miss the chance to see you trying too hard again? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Althea’s smile faded, her light blue eyes glittering with something Morrigan didn’t like. “Oh, I don’t need to try, princess. The Trials have a way of... revealing things, don’t they? Especially little secrets people like to keep hidden.” She tilted her head, her long, blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. “I’ve always wondered—what is it that the infamous Blackthorn heir can do? I mean, why all this secrecy around your powers and abilities?”

Althea's red lips stretched into an even bigger smile her eyes gleaming with mischief and curiosity. "You know, I've always wondered, Morrigan," she began, her voice dripping with disdain, "why all this secrecy around your powers? You're the Blackthorn heir, yet we hardly ever see you demonstrate your powers. I mean, what are you hiding? Could it be that the famous Blackthorn witch isn’t as powerful as everyone believes?” She took a deliberate step closer, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "Well, no point in hiding now, is there? Your precious father won’t be able to protect you in the Trials," she said through gritted teeth then curled her lips into a cruel smile. Her red lipstick made her teeth shine bright. Morrigan knew Althea's intentions all too well, but Morrigan stood tall, not allowing herself to flinch. She knew Althea was trying to provoke her, make her show a crack, a sign of weakness. Morrigan refused to give her the satisfaction.

"I look forward to seeing you in the trials," Morrigan said, boredom written all over her face as she looked away from Althea for a second as if she was already looking for someone else to talk to, before turning her attention back towards her. "If you make it that far, of course," she retorted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Now if you'd excuse me. I've got better things to do," she announced not even giving her a second glance or a chance to talk back, and walked away.

Her father had warned her that the Morvaths would come for her. They always had, always would. But Morrigan wasn’t afraid. She had spent her whole life preparing for this. And if Althea Morvath thought she could outwit her, she'd be in for a rude awakening.

The rest of the night went by pretty fast. Her father joined her for a stroll through the hall later on and gave her some more information about the champions of the lesser houses, which he had squeezed out of some of the conversations he engaged in. Now that all the champions were gathered here under one roof it meant the trials were to start soon. At around midnight, her father held a speech about how honored he was to be hosting the annual Ball. And announced that he would pass the honor of hosting the next Ball in 10 years' time to his dearest friend Tobias Valion. After her father's speech, she decided to return to her chambers. Morrigan wasn't quite the social butterfly like her father was.

Back in her chambers, Morrigan lay awake in her bed not able to fall asleep, the thoughts of the trial ahead of her and the possible challenges in it made her stomach scrunch up and her heart race wildly in her chest. Even though she trained her whole life for this moment there was still a certain feeling of unease in her chest.

A soft knock brought Morrigan out of her spiraling thoughts. "Come in," she called, pulling up her silk blanket to cover her upper body while sitting up in her bed.

The door cracked open and Tobias Valion stepped into the room. His tall figure and black feathered wings loomed in the doorway.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said softly, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room, his face full of concern. Since Tobias never had a daughter he'd always treated Morrigan as if she were his own. Even though they haven't seen each other in a long time now. When she was still a child and he came to visit her father he'd always shower her with gifts and kind words. He was like an uncle to her, even if they weren't bound by blood.

He closed the door behind him and stepped forward. "I was just checking in on you," he said, his gaze scanning the room as if making sure no one else was there. He seemed oddly hesitant, something that Morrigan hadn’t seen from him before. "I know it’s not exactly a peaceful night, and I know how these games can weigh on you. I've walked this path already," he said.

"I’m fine," she lied, looking away. "Just nervous."

"Everyone’s nervous, Morrigan," he said offering a tight smile, but she knew he was worried for her. "If they tell you otherwise, they’re lying. Hell, even my son is nervous. He might not show it but he's not immortal, darling," he said chuckling under his breath. "The Trials aren’t just about skill. It’s the fear, the pressure... the unknowns." He took a step closer to her bed, his voice dropping lower. "But you’ve trained for this your whole life. You’re ready."

Morrigan was silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling in. She looked up at him her eyebrows slightly knotted. "You're more than just your father's legacy. These trials may test you, dear child, but they won't break you," he reassured her.

"But what if I am not as strong as I thought? What if they do break me?" she asked quietly, her voice now bare. She knew she didn't need to pretend in front of him. Knew he'd always be there for her, waiting to give her a helping hand whenever she needed, could she expect the same from his son?

Tobias didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a seat at the edge of her bed, his wings rustling slightly behind him. He wasn’t about to make false promises. “Then you rise again, from your fires. Like a phoenix, rebirthed. You always do."

She didn’t know why, but something in his tone, something about the way he said it made her believe him.

Morrigan exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly as she relaxed into the bed. "Thank you, Tobias," she muttered, her eyes now heavier than before.

A chuckle rumbled in Tobias's chest as he got up and walked towards the door. "I didn’t do much, but you're welcome, my dear." He stopped at the door. There was a long pause, but for the first time tonight, Morrigan felt the tension lifted off her shoulders. "I should let you rest," he said, glancing back at her with a soft smile. “But don’t worry too much little mouse. You’ll be just fine,” he comforted her before closing the door shut.