It was cold the night that everything changed. Icy cold; as if all warmth in the world had gone without a trace. Blood that once ran freely through veins now froze solid as rock, lips once red and tender shaded blue from the lifeless souls still lingering within.
And yet beauty was all around, as if it had been frozen, like other things, in the chill.
An undying beauty.
Frozen dew drops on the white crystal grass, lakes dazzling with a cool glistening surface, icicles dripping with droplets stopped in their motion and the moon…a white aura glowing in the sky casting dancing shadows along the dead land beneath. The wind itself was just a silent whisper; foreign to all except for the trees, who's skeletal branches swayed to its silent music.
Their brittle leaves drifted away with the gale, released from the bony limbs that had been holding them motionless for so long. Maybe, perhaps they did not know that their freedom would only last a short while before they floated to join the graves of their brethren below.
It was an awful night and Merlin had never felt so lonely in his life.
He stood still, not moving at all except for the rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath he took. He felt numb as he looked longingly at Camelot.
His home.
The place where his friends now stood frozen. The place where in all reason he should be frozen too. But he wasn't; his magic had made sure of that.
Merlin moved his head to face the tree's ahead of him. Everyone's lives depended on him now.
Morgana wasn't going to win this time.
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