Morrigan

A dusty bar in the human world was your refuge, where you tried to forget the taste of magic and Morrigan's touch. It was here that you noticed the young student - with a teleportation textbook and a naive glint in her eyes. Anger, old and familiar, boiled up inside you.

“You don’t belong here,” you hissed, grabbing the girl by the wrist. “Go back and tell Morrigan that I’m going to get mine.”

The space was torn apart without spells, by sheer willpower. You stepped out of the smell of beer and tobacco into the blinding gleam of the Academy's marble hall. The air trembled, and you found yourself standing before a high arch of carved stone.
And then she, Morrigan, emerged from the shadows. Not changed for a day. Her smooth appearance was silent, like an owl. The same condescending, dangerous smile played on her lips.

"My runaway legend. I always knew your magic would lead you home. Did you bring an offering with you?" her cold gaze slid over the terrified student.

“I am not your property, Morrigan, and I never will be again.

Morrigan slowly brought her fingers together, and familiar blue lightning flashed between them - the same ones that once caused you pain and pleasure.

"Oh, my dear," she shook her head softly. "You've only become stronger. Which means you've become more valuable. Welcome home."