Natalie's head was bent in a solemn prayer, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sat in a hard wooden chair, next to the bed of her dear guardian, who was on her deathbed. She clung to her guardian's hand, feeling the tears flow freely off her face and into her lap.

"You...must go to Camelot, child," Laurel whispered, her words coming out choked and soft. "There you will discover your soul. There you will find peace."

"But how?" Natalie asked sadly, staring into her guardian's bright green eyes. "I am not welcome there!"

"Don't...tell...anyone...why..." she said faintly, her eyes closing briefly. Laurel let out a weak cough and sighed slowly.

"You must go...for me," she said pleadingly, her voice barely above a whisper. Natalie looked at her guardian and saw the determination in her voice, even though she had no strength. Then she made her decision.

"If I must," she said softly. Laurel smiled painfully.

"You will fulfill your destiny," she said, her voice strong for a brief moment. Then it faded away, and along with it her life. Natalie clutched her guardian's hand, feeling the moment when her pulse stopped its faint beating. She cried over Laurel, thinking to herself that she had just sealed her own fate, as well.

When she composed herself Natalie stood, covering her guardian with a pure white sheet, brought for this horrid occasion. Then, with a final, fleeting glance at her life, she walked back into the main room of their home, grabbed a sack that was full of food and clothing, her life's worth, and she stepped out the front door.

But just before she left she turned around, cast one final desperate look at the house, and, her anger made her mind lash out to her emotions. Her eyes flashed gold in their pain and fire erupted from the fireplace, quickly filling the main room and the rest of the house. Sadly satisfied, Natalie walked out of the burning house, knowing it would be her last visit to the village in a very long time.

He was walking through the castle in the dead of night, searching carefully around himself for signs of life. The moon shone like a beacon as he reached his destination and stopped. The large, ornate, wooden doors opened for him and he silently slipped into the throne room, which was dark and abandoned.

Quietly he stole through the vast space between the door and the throne, and he stared down at the chair in awe. In his subconscious he had no idea why this particular chair intrigued him; he had an inkling of an idea that he secretly thirsted for the kind of power people who sat in this chair had. His hand reached out and touched the cool wooden rest and the plush crimson cushion. Taking his hand back, he pushed his fingers apart and focused on the chair. Without words his eyes flashed gold and the light layer of dust that coated the chair rose and moved respectfully to the side at his gesture. Satisfied, he stood taller and sank into the throne, enjoying its comfort and its power.

A candle jumped to life on the other side of the room. He jumped, his eyes darting to movement as a figure stepped out of the shadows, sword raised. The man's expression was livid and determined, a face that he had seen many times before.

"I never knew…" Arthur said quietly, his look venomous as he stared. "All this time, you've been lying to me?"

He stood from the throne, feeling scared but yet strong.

"Arthur…" he started.

A loud 'twang' sound came from behind Arthur and barely a moment later a white-hot pain centered in his stomach. He gasped in pain, stumbling back into the chair. He tripped and fell onto the floor, his head hitting the seat of the throne. His vision went momentarily black, and when it returned it was fuzzy. Through the pain he heard a pair of boots approach him.

"You, Merlin, have been accused of practising magic," Arthur said. Then something odd started happening: as he continued talking, his voice started to manipulate and warp.

"The punishment for magic is one thing only…"

"Death," Morgana whispered. Merlin looked up slowly, saw the hand reach out and heard the incantation spoken.

Merlin screamed, jerking away from the dream and into his bed.