PROLOGUE – Judge, Jury, and Executioner

Three hooded figures stood together in the shadowy cave, their eerie forms revealed only by the flickering light cast by water bubbling up from the sacred spring. They had been waiting patiently for weeks, their dark hearts full of an indecent anticipation; one that preceded the end of a life.

Once, many years ago, their lives had been ruled by the Triple Goddess. They existed to be her messengers and do her bidding; their very words were hers to command. The three women had been chosen for this duty when they were mere children and raised solely to serve the goddess. It was an honor, and their once kind and pure hearts had been overjoyed. But over time those bright hearts would darken, just as their world did.

A king, once a friend of magic, had betrayed it and swore to purge his kingdom of all who practiced it. The Three knew that one word from the goddess could rid their world of this man. She could put an end to this monster, this hypocrite who massacred those whom he had once called allies and friends. But the goddess had refrained from passing judgment on the king, saying that his continued existence was necessary if magic was ever to flourish peacefully once more.

It was a decision that the Three would never forgive and, as the Old Religion faded and the goddess grew weaker, they threw off her bonds and became a power unto themselves. Using their influence as the chosen Three, they passed their own judgment where they felt it was due, hidden under the name of their now powerless mistress.

To their disappointment, the king had died before they had completely broken free of their restraints. but, while they were unable to punish him for his crimes, his son, Arthur, remained. However, word had reached them of a prophecy that Arthur would be the one to return peace for all to the kingdom of Camelot. So they watched and waited.

But they had grown impatient. Four long years had passed since Arthur had become king, and nothing had been done to bring about the rebirth of magic. Disregarding the prophecy, they now saw his inaction as absolute proof that he was truly Uther's son, and therefore worthy of their vengeance on the house of the Pendragons. They sent a loyal messenger, Osgar, to give the young king a warning of their ruling and to bring him to them, to be brought to their malicious and corrupted form of justice.

The lure had worked, Arthur had come to inquire about the meaning of the coin, but all did not go to plan. To their displeasure, a knight, the youngest of the group it seemed, had thrown himself in front of the bolt that had been meant for the king as punishment for his crimes against magic. Not only that, but one of the company, the servant, possessed strong magic, and had seemed just as willing to sacrifice himself had the boy not gotten there first.

The Three were furious at being thwarted in their revenge and their cruel hearts filled with a deep hatred not only for Arthur and his savior, but also for the dark haired sorcerer who posed as a servant, who betrayed his own kind and protected a man such as Arthur.

They realized that not all hope of revenge was lost, however. Though their loathing for the Pendragon remained, they recognized a bond between Arthur and his knights, and believed that Arthur would return to ask for their help in saving the boy who had sacrificed himself for the king. The bolt that had been meant for the young Pendragon had been imbibed with a curse that only extremely powerful magic could reverse.

Which is why, they were now waiting. They were waiting for that accursed blonde head to appear at their door to be brought to their twisted form of justice.

"The king has not returned," said the first in frustration as the seventh sunset faded to darkness.

"He would forsake his friend to save his pride," the second added a justification for their verdict, it was a reflex to do so, even now when they had gone so far past such reasoning in handing out sentences.

"It is as expected," said the third shortly.

"He will never change his ways."

"His sentence is sealed."

"He deserves this fate."

All three proclaimed in a sinister harmony that echoed eerily of the walls of the cavern, "Arthur Pendragon will most certainly die."