In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name: Merlin.
A dark shadow slipped past Arthur Pendragon's stained-glass window, as silent and deadly as a feared assassin. The darkness halted in midair, turned its head, and beat its wings on the crisp twilight air. The being approached Arthur's window and landed on its sill with its talons scraping the stone. The thing leaned forward, pressing its predatory beak against the window. For a moment, it stayed there. Then the window warped and rippled around the creature, and just as if it were passing through water, it walked through the window. Arthur and Guinevere were as still as stone, dead asleep as the pitch black bird soundlessly approached them. It peered at their sleeping forms, its cold, dead eyes—as soulless as a dead fish's—hovering with malicious intent. It snapped its head back forward and ducked underneath the bed.
Within seconds, the smell of smoke filled the king's chambers.
Arthur was on fire.
The entire castle awoke before the sun arose, because, it seemed, the king's chambers had been set on fire. Arthur, disgruntled and smelling of wood-smoke, stormed through the halls of the citadel, yelling loudly to awaken his knights and to fetch his servant, Merlin.
A short time later, all the knights, Agravaine, Gaius, Guinevere, and Merlin arrived in the council chambers, blurry eyed and irritable.
"This must be the work of Morgana," said Sir Leon, breaking the silence of the chamber.
"That's absurd!" said Agravaine, his brow crinkling. "What would Morgana gain from attacking Arthur now?"
"Well, he'd be dead, for starters," said Merlin, rubbing his eyes. Agravaine's head swung around to glare at the servant.
"Why is the manservant here? For all we know he could have been the one to attack his majesty."
"Merlin? You think Merlin is clever enough to pull off something like this?" Arthur asked incredulously. "Merlin? Really? He couldn't even get water to put out the fire in my room before half my belongings burned down."
"We get your point, Arthur," Merlin scowled. He was still not particularly pleased that he was up at such a painfully early time.
"It couldn't have been Merlin. He was with me until late last night. He wouldn't have had the time," Lancelot pointed out, shifting any blame from the servant.
"Oh really? And how do we know that you weren't involved in this as well? You could have been acting as an accomplice," Agravaine accused, pointing a finger in Lancelot's direction.
"Uncle, that is enough. None of my knights had anything to do with this; you know that. And Merlin didn't either, for that matter. He's simply not bright enough."
"Gee, thanks," Merlin replied sarcastically. Gwain snickered and Lancelot smirked.
"Of… of course," Agravaine said, inclining his head to his nephew after giving the chuckling knights a wry look. "I'm only trying to eliminate all possibilities."
"And for that, I thank you. But it's obvious that this was the work of sorcery. No one in this room possesses the ability to perform magic."
Merlin and Mordred shot each other a knowing look before quickly averting their eyes.
"This was a deliberate attack at the heart of Camelot. It's a miracle I woke up when I did, or Guinevere and I might not be standing here with you right now."
"But can we be sure that its magic? A candle could have been knocked over, or the manservant could have forgotten to put out the fireplace before retiring for the night," Agravaine said, once again putting blame on Merlin.
"It was magic," Mordred said quickly.
"And how would you know what magic looks like, eh?" Agravaine asked, turning his sharp gaze to the young knight.
Mordred stuttered. "I...uh-"
"Uncle, Mordred probably read something in a book. Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions. Explain, Mordred."
"I was the first to reach your chambers. Well, first after Merlin got there. But I got a glimpse of the… thing… that attacked you. It was alive."
The round table erupted into gasps of alarm.
"Alive? What do you mean alive?" Elyan said, tightening his grip on his sister's shoulders protectively.
"It had wings and it was flying. I didn't really get a good look at it."
"Merlin, you arrived in my chambers before Mordred did. Did you get a good look at the creature?" Arthur asked.
"No, I didn't."
"What do you mean you didn't?"
"I mean I didn't see it. I'm sorry, but I was a little distracted by you flailing your arms about and shrieking like a maiden."
Arthur's face morphed into an angry expression. "Excuse me, Merlin?"
"Pardon me, I was a little distracted by you bravely flailing your arms about and shrieking like a maiden, my lord."
Arthur closed his eyes, and Merlin knew that he was most likely planning exactly how long he was going to order him in the stocks. All around the table, the knights erupted into laughter. They knew that Merlin was no ordinary servant to the king, and so these moments of them teasing each other happened frequently. Agravaine, however, did not seem as pleased.
"You let him speak to you like this?" Agravaine asked, appalled.
"This is normal," Gwaine said, and he smiled devilishly, "More entertaining than any play I've ever seen."
"You've never been to a play," Percival pointed out, but a smile was creeping up his lips.
"Why go see a play when you can watch this anytime for free?"
Gwen raised her voice over the knights, "I'm sorry, but can we focus on the matter at hand, please?"
"Of course. Guinevere is right. We need to focus," Arthur said, shaking himself out of a daydream.
"If this truly was an act of magic, then it must have been of the most powerful sort," Gaius mused.
"What, a few little sparks are considered dark and powerful magic? You could create the same reaction with a piece of flint," scoffed Agravaine.
"I'm afraid these were no mere sparks, sire. There is only one creature that I can think off that matches young Sir Mordred's description," Gaius said solemnly, opening the book in his hands. He turned to a page that depicted a large hawk-like creature made of flames. "A phoenix."
A tense feeling of unease covered the room like a blanket. Phoenixes were creatures to be feared before the time of the Great Purge. Their magical and regenerative abilities made it very difficult to kill, and it was made of fire, and that made it excel at—well—setting things on fire.
"A phoenix? I thought they were all killed during the Great Purge," said Arthur in surprise.
"So did I, sire. So did I," Gaius thoughtfully agreed, raising one eyebrow, as he always did when he was in deep thought.
The room fell silent, until Agravaine spoke once more.
"There is no evidence to support this theory. An extinct bird coming back from the dead, only to fly to Camelot and deliberately attack Arthur? Do you have any evidence to confirm this theory?"
Guinevere spoke. "Does this confirm it?"
In her hands, there was a long feather, as black as ink.
The room fell silent once again.