The chamber was empty. A cold spirit encased the room which Merlin knew so well, like it had done for the last 5 weeks. Gaius was gone. Merlin placed a had on the wall to steady himself, he feared he would have fainted if he had not done so. The voices started to whisper.
Voices plagued Merlin, right through his mind. They didn't leave him for more than a few hours, then they would come back. They'd keep coming back. They wouldn't let him sleep. They wouldn't let him be awake. They wanted him dead.
He knew it was happening to him. He was destined to die. The voices jeered and laughed at how weak he was. They had, as they said, expected more resistance from him. Merlin keeled over, his hand never leaving the wall. He was dying slowly, and no one exept him knew.
The voices tormented him. Reminded him of who he had lost and who he was going to lose. They mocked him. Then, Merlin had enough. He shook his head vigarously, blocked is ears, stamped his foot. The voices stopped. They had to. They knew he could kill them if he straightened out his head.
Merlin breathed heavily and started weeping as he slumped down onto the floor. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to die. He had so much to do. So many people to meet. So many battles to win. So many to lose. He wasn't ready to die, but he didn't see a way around it. He was going to fall. His life would soon be over, as the voices said.
He stumbled to his room. He collapsed on his cot and placed a hand on his brow. Everytime they scraped his head, it left him weak. No one had noticed. Not even Arthur. Gwen hadn't. Nor had Lancelot. Nor had Gwaine, Percivil, Leon. He hadn't wanted anyone to notice. He wanted to live his life as they were; as if nothing had happened.
Merlin felt tired. Very tired. Ever since he got ill, he was scared to go to sleep. He might never wake up.