"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."
-George Santayana

Have you ever had an out of body experience? One where you're looking down on yourself simply watching as life happens to you? Life goes on, the world keeps turning but you don't want to move. You want to jump off a cliff because the only thing that will ease your pain is death…but you can't. Instead you are given a vague promise and false hope that one day, maybe, the purpose of your life will come back to you.

An elderly figure was hunched over a small bonfire. He was tall and gangly for an old man, but his beard was something to be held. It reached down to his chest and matched his long grey hair. He groaned as he added a few twigs to the flame. The fire popped and hissed right back at him. Plopping down on a sleeping bag he crossed his legs and took in the scenery around him.

The campsite was nothing special. It was just a small tent and a fire pit in the middle of the forest. He had chosen it because a small stream ran nearby and it was also close to a main highway leading into the nearby town. The name of the town however, was not something he had cared to learn. While it wasn't paradise, it would do. It was peaceful and no one ever bothered him.

The sun had gone down hours ago but he still hadn't eaten any dinner. Spooning some mystery food out of a can was always less than satisfactory, so he decided he wasn't hungry tonight. He dragged his backpack closer and rummaged around inside. His aged fingers grasped what he was looking for; a pile of books of various sizes and ages. This had become his nightly ritual, reading the same books over and over.

His comfortable compulsion.

There were a variety of titles; King Arthur and the Round Table or The Adventures of Merlin. The subject matter was all the same and it brought back bittersweet nostalgia. Merlin, how long had it been since he'd forsaken that name? He went by Emrys these days; it seemed to fit the strange old man.

This was what his life had come to; living with only the essentials, if you wanted to call it living that is. Surviving was a more appropriate description.

Grabbing the book from the very top, he placed it in his lap. The pages crinkled as he flipped open the well worn relic. It was nearly 300 years old and it had been quite the task to preserve it. It was amongst the more accurate depictions of Camelot's history. Emrys always got a good chuckle out of historical inaccuracies or modern day adaptations, but he was always more fond of the accurate story.

The first page was a sketch; a depiction of the first meeting of King Arthur and the great wizard Merlin. The drawing made it seem like such a glorious event when in fact it had just been a chance encounter. Chance, however, was something he no longer believed in. Destiny was the only sure thing in his life.

It was the only hope he had left.

He stroked the faded portrait of his old friend with shaky fingers. He had been so young and full of life then, look at him now. He was broken and battered; calling him a shell of his former self was even a stretch. Flipping the page another painfully familiar image stood out. This time it was a portrait of Guinevere, Arthur's wife.

His eyes watered slightly; Gwen's story always broke his heart. The servant girl turned queen. Given so many riches only to have her most valuable treasures taken away. First it had been her father, then her brother and finally her husband, all snatched away by influence of magic. Emrys could never find it in his heart to blame her fully for the extreme actions she would take. Grief at the level she felt was enough to drive anyone mad.

Gwen had led a magical massacre that put Uther's Great Purge to shame. She rallied her own men and many from other kingdoms together in destroying magic once and for all. Magical sites were burned, creatures of magic were slain, and any person even suspected of magic was executed. She united all of Albion in a crusade that would eradicate magic completely. It did not stop at Albion however, the entire world would take up arms and fight for her madness. All it took was a century or two to make magic disappear permanently.

Emrys was part of an extinct race; there hadn't been another like him for almost 700 years.

Magic did still leave traces in the world of today however. Ghost stories and tales of Big-foot or the Loch Ness monster were all usually based on a magical creature. There had been some creatures that survived but they were often hard to come by and the pollution of the modern day often poisoned them. People even showed hints of magic; tv psychics were the best example he could think up. Although it was weak and often inaccurate some were able to scratch the surface. It often ran through blood lines and that's why multiple clairvoyants or psychics were present in specific families. In this day and age though he found that it was best to conceal his secret. He really didn't feel like being dissected in a government lab like some kind of freak.

He felt very alone when he thought about sorcery. He was the last of his kind and there would never be a world free for magic like the Great Dragon had promised him all those years ago. There was a tiny shred of rage in his heart for the ones who had ended that potential. Morgana and Mordred; the ones who loved magic the most were the ones who ruined it. The irony stung even now.

There were times when he felt responsible for Morgana's descent into madness. Perhaps if he had comforted her and explained that she was not alone when her powers were beginning to show, she wouldn't have felt so alienated. Perhaps it wouldn't have changed things at all. You could spent a lifetime trying to find the answer and not even come close.

Rummaging through his bag once more he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the lid. He brought it to his lips and took a swig. It burned as it went down, a painful reminder of what his life had become. Alcohol was the only way it seemed to keep the nightmares at bay. Taking one last drink he tightened the cap back on and curled up on his sleeping bag. He clutched the bottle and the book tightly to his chest and muffled a whimper.

His faint weeping could be heard throughout the forest that night.

The forest was damp in the morning; a light dew coated everything. The wind lazily rustled through the trees and a bird chirped off in the distance. Emrys was deep asleep when a forceful hand gave him a good shake. Startled, his eyes snapped open and adjusted to the bright morning light. He could make out a rather large silhouette which would be that of a police officer's.

Damn.

Stiff and achy he pulled himself into a sitting position and stared at the officer with a disapproving expression, "What's going on?" The cop offered him a hand and pulled the old sorcerer onto his feet.

The officer answered, "Some tourists saw smoke from the forest here, thought a fire might've broken out. Turns out it was just you." The burly man sauntered over to the fire pit and kicked a rock into it.

"You know I can't let you stay here," he was speaking very matter-of-factly but he couldn't hide this pity that also lingered in his voice.

Emrys was getting a bit worked up, "where am I to go?"

"Somewhere else, just not here. Surely you have someone you can stay with? Family or friends perhaps?"

"They're all dead."

The officer drew a long breath and spoke again, "I'm sorry, I really am. I wish there was, but there's nothing I can do. I'm coming back tonight and you best not be here." Before walking back to his cruiser, he gave Emrys one last sympathetic glance.

The site was packed up before an hour passed. It was easy enough, he really didn't own anything. The tent easily folded up and fit in his backpack along with his sleeping bag and the very few other items he owned. When he was done, Emrys was left wondering where he would go and what he would do next.

He had about 2000 pounds so he supposed he could go into town and stay at the inn for a night or two until he got his bearings. The town was a homely little place; a handful of shops and only a few houses right next to a small lake. It was a tight knit community, this much Emrys could tell from his rare supply visits. He was use to the strange looks he got, he seemed to stand out like a sore thumb.

Saying one last farewell to the place he had called home, he followed the same trail the police officer had out of the forest. The only major highway that led into town ran right next to the forest. He'd chosen that spot in the forest out of convenience but instead it came back and bit him in the rear. He began the long trek and found himself in town after an hour and a half. Surveying his options he spotted a tiny cafe to his right, a quaint little place called Mel's.

God, how long had it been since he had had a real cup of coffee?

The door made a cheery jingle as he opened it and stepped inside. The place smelled of vinyl and fried foods. He chose a seat at the bar next to an ancient tv set. A perky brunette waitress greeted him with a smile.

"Good morning sir! Can I get you anything?" Her face was soft and sweet, it reminded him of someone he knew long ago. She was very young, probably 19 at the most. Her hair was a lovely light brown, pulled up into a messy bun. A crooked half-smile stretched across her face revealing perfect white teeth. It was very difficult to ignore the positive energy that appeared to roll off of her. She was definitely an interesting character; her nails were painted black and her name tag had a tiny bat sticker on it. Laura was her name.

After a moment he answered, "Just coffee thank you."

Pouring his drink she couldn't help wonder about strange old man in front of her. "You're not from here are you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"No, I'm not..." Emrys always felt awkward speaking about himself, people were so judgmental.

"I see...where are you headed if I may ask?"

"Uh, nowhere in particular."

She seemed to like that response, her face lit up with an expression that was almost giddy. Looking at him, she blurted out, "Not all who wander are lost!"

"Umm..."

"It's quote... Anyways, I like your beard."

"What?"

"Your beard. It's...I mean...it's pretty cool. You've got like a Gandalf thing goin' on. It's pretty sweet."

She was quite the character after all.

"Umm, thanks..." The reference flew right over his head. He brought the mug to his lips and sipped the steaming liquid. After a second or two Laura got the hint that their conversation was pretty much over. Slinking away, she greeted another customer and left Emrys to his own devices. The tv next to him was tuned into a generic news program. He really wasn't an avid watcher of television but sometimes it came as a needed distraction.

The business segment was doing a story on a british bank called Red Royal Financial. It was an amazing story really; a true rags to riches kind of tale. The program described how the founder and owner, Tony, struck it rich when his failing bank suddenly became a worldwide success. After his wife' death almost 14 years ago, he moved the bank's head office to New York where he and his two children now live. His daughter, Katie, was given the head position in public relations for her 28th birthday last year. It was the suspicion that for his adopted son, Bradley, a much larger position would be given. It was his 23rd birthday a week from today.

Emrys raised the mug to his lips once more just as the segment was finishing up. The newscaster ended off by showing an image of Bradley that was taken recently at a charity gala. The image flashed onto the screen and Emrys' eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

There was no denying it; the same messy blond hair, the piercing blue eyes, and the smug grin.

It was Arthur.

Time seemed to freeze. He could hardly breath, the shock was beyond comprehension. His body was numb and even if he tried to move he doubted his limbs would even function. His head was spinning and his heart was beating a mile a minute. If things were happening around him he certainly wasn't aware of them.

The only thing that brought him back to reality what the waitress patting his hand.

"Sir?! Sir, are you alright?" Her face was full of panic.

"Huh?" It was all he could manage, he was still very out of it.

"You froze and um, dropped your coffee." She seemed highly concerned at this point.

He was puzzled. Coffee, what coffee? Looking down he observed that he had in fact not only dropped it but also smashed the mug entirely. Laura was wiping up his mess with a rag she pulled from her apron. Still with only half a brain, he started pulling out napkins from the dispenser and placing them on the spill. It was cleaned up in a matter of minutes.

"I'm sorry I just..."

Just what? Found the person you've been waiting all this time for?

"No, it's fine! It's just...are you okay? You seemed kinda spooked and... I thought you were having a heart attack or somethin'..." She trailed off.

It certainly felt like a heart attack. The initial adrenaline must have been wearing off because he was now confronted with another wave of shock.

Where could he find this Bradley character? Why was he calling himself Bradley anyways? Was it a cover name? Why?

There were so many questions buzzing around in his head he thought it might explode. There were suddenly a million things that Emrys needed to prepare. First things first however. He stood up and rummaged through his pockets.

"I think this will be enough," in his rush to leave the dinner he slapped a few bills on the counter. Grabbing his bag he slung it over his shoulder and hobbled towards the exit.

The waitress picked it up and counted then quickly called out, "You gave me 30 extra!"

Before the door fully closed behind him he shouted back, "You keep it."

Laura was at an utter loss as she watched the mysterious old man leave.

"Uh, thanks..."