Marveling at every detail, from the way the floors were worn and cracked to the fine stitched tapestries bearing noble symbols, Merlin walked the ancient halls of his old home. He smiled at the way the stones glowed from the golden light of sunrise that shone through the patterned, glass windows.
Mindlessly he roamed, his feet carrying him up the familiar stone steps, echoes of dear faces passing him by.
He stopped abruptly, turning to the large, wooden doors beside him. With a wistful sigh, he threw them open and strode inside, humming as he approached the windows.
Tugging the curtains wide, Merlin cheered, "Arthur, it's a new day-" He stopped, eyes going wide at the sight before him, a ruined, desolate land, far different from the Camelot he knew. He spun on his heels only to find that the room had vanished, the disastrous landscape stretching on in all directions. He panicked, cold sweat trickling down his back as his breath hiccuped. With a start, he looked down, finding his old, tattered boots stepping on thin air.
His magic failed him then and he plummeted down the height of the once glorious castle as he wailed in remorse.
He crumpled as he hit the ground, a mess of blood and broken bones. Sobbing, he tried to sit up, looking about at his life's grave, marked by the rubble that was left behind. His cries turned into sputtering breaths as his strength left him, struggling to stay alive because he did not want to feel the emptiness of death again.
A startlingly familiar voice blended into his thoughts as they swam inside his head. Shushing him affectionately, it said, "Just lie back, Merlin. Please. I know it's hard to remember. Just . . . close your eyes. Let your mind and body heal. You will feel better when you wake."
Letting out one, final sigh, Merlin let his senses slip away and, as his world turned black, he could only hope that his king spoke the truth.