"I ask you a final time," the matron said. "What name shall be given to this child?"

Tears streaming down her face, the young mother looked down into her baby's face for what she knew in her heart would be the final time. She saw his wispy, sandy hair, and the small mole at the left-hand corner of his mouth. With trembling hands, she handed the infant over to the matron. She thought for a moment.

"Wulfgar," she whispered at last. She covered her face in grief.

"Then Wulfgar it shall be," the matron answered compassionately. Her face hardened slightly. "You are never to visit here again, nor try to discover the whereabouts of the child. Do you understand? The wizards' penalties for disobeying can be quite severe."

The young woman standing before her could only nod.

"Go now," the matron said quietly, her voice kind once more. "And may the Afterlife look over you." Turning, she carried the infant into the house, closing the door behind her.

Sobbing, the young mother collapsed.

She felt her father's strong arms lift her to her feet, felt herself being carried back to the carriage and placed upon the seat. She continued to cry as her mother stroked her hair, as their driver, snapping his whip, charged the horses noisily down the slick, cobblestoned street.

Morganna of the House of Desinoor wept in her mother's arms. Then she felt her mother press something into her hand. It was a lock of sandy-colored hair tied with a red ribbon. It had been cut from the head of her son only this morning, and was now all she had to remember him by.

It would be another three years before she would meet and marry Nicholas of the House of Galland, the true love of her life, and become queen of Eutracia. She would then go on to have twins, whose birth would be heralded by a strange, azure glow and watched over anxiously by ancient wizards.