I knew I had to do what I did - no matter the cost, no matter that I wouldn't see the dawn. I had to do it. Albion would fall if I didn't. Camelot needed Arthur more than anything else in the world.
I knew, somehow, it would end up like this. When I had left I knew and admitted to Gaius I would sacrifice myself, much to the dismay of Gaius. I hadn't told anyone my plan, but I think Lancelot figured it out. He knows me too well.
When the dorocha flew through me, I wasn't scared. I knew I wouldn't be. I had told Gaius that. Besides, I had faced death before. I was prepared. Don't get me wrong, I was not ready to leave this planet - I'm not suicidal. But, I was prepared and felt confident in my decision. Arthur would live and become king: Albion would become a great city under Arthur's rule. I knew it whole heartedly.
As I landed in a heap on the floor, I knew something was wrong. I could feel my heart beat pitifully. I could hear my faint breath whistling in my lungs. I could kind of see, but not blink. And, I was freezing. Death had not conquered me. I wasn't mortal after all. Hadn't Gaius said no mortal had lived?