Awakening

78

Morgan looked at the raven that stood on the back of the sofa, a bit unsure of how to make the bird her familiar, which was something she wanted and needed. Every witch has a familiar, an animal that somehow represented them. The raven symbolizes a lot of things, it's a contrary spirit. On the negative side, the raven represents the profane, the devil, evil spirits, the trickster and thief, war and destruction, death and doom, the void. Yet in many cultures, the raven also represents deep magic, the mystery of the unknown, death and transformation, creation, healing, wisdom, protection, and prophecy. It is the symbol of the sun, and the symbol of a moonless night. The birth giving light in the center of the galaxy, and the black hole in the center of the universe. It is the fatal touch of the Calleach in winter, the wisdom of Odin, the vessel of prophecy given to a seer, the mighty protector of the Western Isles, and the healing message of an Indian shaman.

Eric believed the bird represented her completely, it would only be natural for her to have a raven as her familiar. But even he was unsure of how to form the bond between witch and familiar. Morgan pulled out the grimoire from her bag, opening it and sifting through the pages,

"Are you going to shift, or stay like that and make me figure this out on my own?" She asked, turning the page

A fluttering sound filled her ears a moment later, Morgan leaning forward, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of spare sweats, tossing them across the living room as she leaned back in her seat. When they arrived home, she could hear thoughts that didn't belong to Alcide, it wasn't even his voice. There was no one around them at the time that she could sense, and Zeus couldn't sense any immediate threat, so the thoughts had to have belonged to the raven. The voice was male, English accent and he seemed happy when Morgan found him, even more so when he realized she was a witch and in need of a familiar.

"Do you have a name?" The woman asked

". . I do not" the male answered honestly

She rose her gaze, looking at the man that stood before her. His skin was filthy, covered in dirt and mud while his jet black hair was greasy and nearly matted, his gaze was lowered, almost as if he was afraid to look her in the eye. Morgan closed the grimoire, standing up from her place on the sofa and taking a few steps toward him, only to pause when he took a step back.

"Can you tell me why?" Her voice gentle

". . My last master never gave me one when I was summoned" honesty in his voice "it is custom for the master or mistress to name their familiar"

". . I didn't summon you" holding her grimoire to her chest

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, realizing that she was telling the truth, she had never summoned anyone or anything to her. She was still learning, but at her age, she should have perfect control over her power, but he could sense the strength within her, coming off of her like waves, which made him afraid because his master was similar, only using black magic. Morgan saw a handprint on his side, right where the arrow once was, which looked almost like a scar. But if the mark caught the correct lighting, she could see a gray tint, almost like a shine, wondering if the others she had healed had a mark similar to his. The male was hesitant, which told Morgan that his last master wasn't so kind,

"A gray witch I am and forever will be" Morgan said

This time, his gaze met hers, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, only meeting one other gray witch a long time ago with his master, a few days after he became a familiar. The gray witch was a male as well, telling the raven that he wasn't meant to be with a black magic user, but a female gray witch who would show kindness him and treat him as her own.

"How about we get you cleaned up?" A small smile forming on her lips

Morgan just so happened to be that gray witch.

∆

The male was now cleaned and properly fed, which filled Morgan with a sense of satisfaction, watching as he looked around her witch room with curiosity, almost as if he had never seen so many magic related items before. She looked back down at her grimoire, finding a page on familiars, and the process to gain one seemed to be simple enough. Blood needed to be exchanged, along with a promise. It didn't matter how the blood was exchanged, but it was a key element in order to fully tie him to her, and she only knew of two ways.

"I wish to be your familiar" he said, turning around to look at her

She looked toward him, a smile forming on her lips as she closed the grimoire once more, sliding off from her desk and walking over to him, her heels clicking on the floor, reaching up and gently cupping his cheek into her smaller hand. A low sigh emitted from him as his body relaxed, his blue eyes closing as he leaned in to her gentle touch,

"Hand-to-hand . . Or feed?" her voice gentle "I'm sure you can sense my other half, I want you to choose

". . . Hand-to-hand" he replied

Morgan wasn't upset with the answer as he had expected, but her hand did fall from his cheek, reaching into the pocket of her long shirt and removing a knife, one that she always carried. They moved to stand in the center of the pentagram etched into the floor, the male holding out his left hand as he looked at her, watching as she flicked the blade out, dragging the sharp edge across his palm, causing his eyebrows to furrow slightly at the sting. She did the same with her right hand, quickly pressing the blood together before it healed, looking at him as the pentagram at their feet lit up at the sense of her power, the light filling the room.

"I will serve you" he promised "with body and soul, until my end"

"I will protect you" she promised "with power and blood, until my end"

The light grew brighter, a tingling sensation filled both of them, and he could now feel nearly every emotion that ran through her. She was happy, to have a familiar and a new companion, the light fading around them,

". . Your name . ." She trailed off ". . Your name is Sebastian"

A smile formed on his lips, finally having something to call his own, something no one would be able to take away.