AN: So this is a good bit early, but I was so excited that I actually finished it that I decided to post it now before I forgot. I hope you all enjoy it!

'~;~'

When Camelot was built, Segan placed a great number of spells to its very foundations to protect the citadel and city from the elder spirits that wandered during the witching hours of Samhain. These enchantments kept the long dead at bay, but the newer spirits from the purge were too young for the wards to affect.

Those thousands of tortured souls plagued the courtyard and lower town every autumn. The King hid this fact from his children by hosting a massive feast that took place in the most magically protected room during the active time of the beings roaming. He had suspicions that Morgana's lady's maid had told her mistress the truth, but she never let on.

This year was the one the king was actually worried about. It was an anniversary year. On the fifth and tenth year anniversaries of the purge, the spirits had nearly breached the chamber. He knew the wards had not been replenished in twenty years, and he was afraid this would be the year they came for him and his children.

So as the day of the celebration arrived, Uther grew more tense and vigilant. He thankfully noted that he was not the only one. Arthur's manservant seemed to be on constant guard the entire day and it improved the king's mood to know he was not alone is his fear of what that night would hold.

It was due to his heightened awareness that he noticed the vigilant serving boy sneak into the room mere minutes before the time the vale between the worlds was at its weakest. The boy had cut it close, but Uther felt calmer now that he had someone else sharing his feeling of unease. He hadn't meant to overhear the conversation between his children's' servants, but he had and it chilled him to the bone. No wonder the boy was so on guard.

What kind of people tied a boy out in the open this late in the year to ward off the spirits. Uther was unsure how the boy had survived the first time, nor each of the years after. He knew the lad was brave, for a peasant mind you, but ten years of facing the beings long past should have driven him mad. Perhaps it had. It would explain his apparent mental deficiencies.

The king was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice that the hours of the spirit roaming were over until the main doors were opened and people began to head to their beds. Uther was shocked that there hadn't been even the slightest sign of the being the entire night. He pondered this as he started to walk back to his chambers. He quickly stopped when he saw the line of ash in the corridor.

Looking at it closely, he saw it for what it was. The destroyed remnants of wandering souls. He had seen this few times in his childhood when being of purity or dragon's fire came into contact with a being of the land of the dead. But how had this happened in his castle? In a perfect line no less?

Curious, the king checked other passages that led to the celebration chamber. Uther was not surprised when he found lines of ash in each of them, all about the same distance from room. He didn't understand how it happened, but decided not to investigate the situation further. He knew, deep down, that there was something off about this, but like all the other odd occurrences, he let it slide by unquestioned.

All he knew for sure was that another anniversary had come and gone and he and his children were safe. He also felt as if some of his sins had been purified, but he knew this was not due to his heart or actions. He felt absolved for the death of those he had put to death wrongly. He would never admit it, but he regretted the sentence he had placed on those he knew were innocents of the crimes he charged them with.

No, the end of these spirits had nothing to do with him. It was as if the citadel itself was cleared of its grisly past. The king shook his head at the thought and blamed it on the strong drink and lateness of the hour. Kicking the the dusty remains, Uther headed to his bed.

Unbenounced to him, he had been right. The blood and soot that stained the courtyard had lightened and the spirits of the magic users where now at rest. They knew who had come to the halls they haunted and they knew that the reign of hate was near its end. They knew the power of Emrys was washing out the sins of the mad king and sanctifying the city with the pureness of unadulterated magic.

In his bed, Merlin feared for his mother and everyone back in Ealdor. He didn't know if his magic was still protecting them all the way from Camelot. He also feared that the deaths he had caused would taint his soul and corrupt his spirit. He didn't know that those very thoughts were what kept the darkness from touching his heart.