A/n: Hello readers! Before you start your journey through Camelot and the Enchanted Forest, I have an important call to make. This is a sequel. Book three of a series. You can read it alone, although some connections between the characters will not make any sense until they are explained in the later chapters. So, if you wish to understand everything at once, I could only ask you to read "The Imp's daughter" and "The Lady of Avalon" first. Both can be found on my profile. Enjoy your reading!

1. Sorcerers and knights

The sun was high, very high in the sky when Seren deigned get out of bed. It was usual for her to stay up at night and down during most of the day.

The sole thing that made her get up earlier than 3pm was the tower bell indicating an attack of sorts.

She sighed deeply before getting dressed, not even flinching when the door to her room bolted open.

"Morning, Gad."

Seren heard a sigh before a tall, dark-haired young man with coffee-toned skin entered her sight. "You'll have to tell me how do it one day, Ren."

She chuckled.

She had known Galahad her whole life – he was technically born merely two years after her – and many considered them siblings.

But when she was gazing at him and at his blue, blue eyes, Seren really didn't think of him as a brother...

"What is it this time?"

The Knight shrugged. "Probably another group of Saxons come to steal food. Father will take care of it."

Seren nodded. There indeed wasn't anyone who could resist Lancelot's blade. Not even her mother did.

Or so he said. She had never known her, after all.

It appeared it was far worse than mere Saxons this time.

Or Sir Percival wouldn't have come fetch his nephew and niece himself.

"Uncle Percy? What is it?"

The giant knight shook his head. "No time to explain. The Queen requests your presence now."

Seren's brow furrowed, but Galahad grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out the door. "Come. If Mother calls for us this officially, things must be grave indeed."

Seren and Galahad took no detour to reach the throne-room. They were used to every passage-way, but today, as knight and ward of the Queen, they had to walk in the light.

Gad wore his blood-red cloak, golden lion embedded on the cloth, and Seren wore a chainmail they said had been her mother's, Fang, another token of her lost presence, dangling at her belt.

They were greeted by Sir Ywain, one of the youngest additions of the Round Table, and one of Seren's personal friends – if someone she kept kicking the ass of could really be considered a friend.

The young knight brought them to the throne-room, where the Queen Guinevere was sat, her Captain and consort Sir Lancelot sitting at her side.

The Round Table was full safe for two seats: the former king Arthur's, which had remained empty since his passing, and the Siege Perilous, one strange chair that no one could sit on if they didn't wish to perish in the instant.

Galahad went to sit by his father, as his reserved place, while Seren stood before the Queen, facing her father's chair now occupied by Sir Gareth, an older yet dashing knight.

Guinevere was as pretty as ever, her coffee-toned skin highlighted by her red dress, and the wrinkles around her eyes the only sign that time ever passed at all.

She gestured Seren forward. "Seren, daughter of the Lady Knight and Sir Gwaine, I have summoned you here today because on this morning of this year, the twentieth of your birth, something has come to pass. Something that I was told would pass."

Seren's brow furrowed. "I fear I do not understand, my lady."

"We received a visitor. One we had not seen for a long time. He has come to meet you, and you alone." She paused, then gazed at the whole table. "His name is Sir Mordred."

The knights gasped around the table, as did Seren.

Her green eyes widened. "My uncle?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, my mother's brother's here?"

Guinevere nodded again. "He is waiting for you in my chambers. Meanwhile, we are to address an important matter he has brought upon us."

Seren knew when she was asked to leave, she had been raised by this woman, and now was her cue.

And as much as she was trembling like a leaf, she had to face that man, that uncle she had never met, and learn whatever truth he had decided had to wait until she was twenty of age.

Gwen's rooms were one of the many Seren knew by heart. She had been raised at the Queen's side, as if she had been her daughter – and really, it was fitting since she was her god-daughter – and barely ever left the room until she was of age to be impatient and impulsive and Lancelot had to teach her how to use a sword to canalise her energy.

She didn't knock – really, why should she? – and entered the rooms at once.

Surely, there was a figure standing at the window. Jet black curls fell to the stranger's shoulders and onto the darkened scales of his chainmail. A sword was at his belt, but he made no gesture to grab it, instead outstretching a hand at his side and muttering something between his breath.

Seren felt as if hot water was spilt upon her, as if a strong summer wind had engulfed her, and then nothing.

The stranger turned around slowly, and Seren was met with a pair of the greenest eyes she had only seen in one place.

Her own face.

"Good morning, Seren. I am Mordred."

Seren shook off her thoughts and managed to take an affronted pose, crossing her arms and glaring slightly. "I know who you are. Uncle."

Mordred seemed amused if anything by her attitude. He smiled a little before turning back to the window. "I guess you are very angry that I'm only manifesting myself now. There is a reason. Perhaps one you sometimes suspected yourself..." He looked at her from under his lashes, and something strange happened.

Seren felt as if she had a headache, but not a deranging one. More like a subtle knock, as if...as if someone was asking for permission to enter.

She gave it, she thought she did at least, for right after, Mordred's voice echoed in her thoughts.

"I find it more appropriate and intimate to talk this way. I want to make sure no one hears us."

Seren shook her head as if trying to get rid of it, and glared at him again. "What are you doing?" she said out loud.

"Speak in your mind and I will hear you. Only people with magical powers can converse this way. I am therefore certain no one else can listen to this conversation."

Seren's eyes widened, and she answered silently. "I have magical powers? You have to be joking!"

Mordred chuckled, but only in her mind. "You must have heard the stories of your mother's abilities. Conjuring dragons, casting spells and curses. Surely Lancelot told you about that."

"He did, but I never thought I had the same...abilities."

"You don't. You are far more powerful than your mother. Or even me."

"You are not making any sense. I've never used magic. Ever. So how could I be more powerful than a Dragonlord?"

"You were born out of the most powerful of magic. True love." Seren felt a small smile tugging at her lips, but she tried to push it away. Mordred still felt it. "You must believe me stupid, but it is the truth. As for never using magic before, you are wrong. When you were only a newborn, you used it around you. Changing the colours of cloaks, making it rain on people, making plants grow faster. Your mother told everyone it was her doing, but both her and I knew it was you."

"I never used magic. And if I did at that time, I never did again."

"And that's because your parents disappeared. Very traumatic for a child. Furthermore, you were raised by two people that ignored of your powers. They would not have enhanced them."

Seren whirled around, her mind buzzing more with questions and unwanted informations than with the presence of that man inside her head. She grunted. "Did you come here only to tell me that I have magic? What, do you want to teach me or something?"

"No one can teach you. You are far too powerful to be taught. No, I came here because a new threat has arisen, and you are our only hope at defeating it."

Seren laughed. "Oh, humour me. The same day, I learn that my dear mother left me more than her sword to remember her by, and that I must save the world. Great."

"Not the world singular, Seren. The worlds plural." She whirled around to meet his eyes again. "There are more than one realm, Seren. Your mother came from another, and lived in another yet for years. This threat I'm talking about is endangering all of them."

"I'm listening. Which doesn't mean I'll accept your mission."

He nodded. "Understood. A witch arose far north, for a while nameless. She came from another land, we ignored which one. Her powers are unlike any others we saw here in Camelot. Not even Emrys had that much power. Then, one of us managed to meet her and to come back alive. She calls herself Circé."

"Circé? Is she a High Priestess like Lady Morgana?" She had heard so many stories about the great and terrible Morgana that she was the first person she thought about when evil was mentioned.

"No, she isn't. As I said, she's not from here. But she seeks something. Something that, unbeknownst to her, isn't in this realm anymore, but in the Enchanted Forest, the realm your mother was raised in."

"What is that thing?"

"We call it the Grail. It is a tool powerful enough to annihilate any magical being that threatens the peace of Camelot and of the other realms. It is so powerful than long ago, it was hidden away in the Enchanted Forest."

"And you'd wish for me to find it."

"Yes. The druids have given you this task, should you accept it. You are born out of True love and therefore some curses can't harm you. You can wield a sword, and have the most powerful magic there ever was. So only you can defeat Circé, we are certain of it."

"Guinevere said something about a matter you brought upon Camelot. Was that it?"

"A part of it. Circé intends to raid the lands in search for the Grail. She seems certain that Emrys disposed of it sometime ago, and Emrys lived here for a long time." He paused. "I asked Guinevere and Lancelot to prepare the castle's defences. My brothers and I will help as much as we can, but only you, in the end, can save us."

Seren sighed deeply. "Perfect. So not only am I the most powerful sorceress that ever lived, but I also am the saviour of all lands. My life couldn't have turned out better."

"One last thing." He walked to her, and his mind left hers, leaving her having to adjust to the emptiness it left. Mordred switched back to normal speech. "You can take Galahad with you."

Seren didn't have time to ask why, for Mordred walked past her and to the door, exiting the room and dismissing their conversation.

It took her more than ten minutes to process what had been said.

She had magic. Fair enough.

She was the most powerful being in the land, because her mother and father were True loves. Fair enough.

She had to save all realms from a bitch called Circé. Fair enough.

And she had no idea whatsoever how to proceed.

Great.

There were moments when Seren felt like her parentage was more of a curse than a blessing. Moments like this one.

But as she hurried back to the Great Hall, where she was certain that Mordred had gone next, she felt another thing about that parentage, something she had hidden away for her darkest nights: abandon. Her mother had chosen to abandon her, and now here she was, not knowing what was asked of her and how she'd succeed, if she had any chance at all.

Mordred was standing behind the Siege Perilous when she arrived unnoticed.

All eyes were on the former knight and the revelation he had made.

About her, apparently, since Lancelot's eyes found hers and met her gaze with fear, worry and concern.

He was like her father in so many ways, and now, he was frightened for her life.

Galahad put a hand on his father's arm, gesturing him to pay attention to the druid.

"There is one last thing I must ask before Seren and her escort leave." Mordred's green eyes met his niece's, then turned back to the assistance. "This is the day this chair," he put his hands on the Siege Perilous, "is finally filled."

There was a quick rumour around the table, one he was quick to silence.

"The Siege Perilous has been deadly to anyone who ever tried to sit in it. But you never knew why. I am to tell you of a prophecy that long existed and is about to be fulfilled." He took a deep breath. "When King Arthur Pendragon created the Round Table, he also, unknowingly, started the course of actions that brought us here. For only his demise and Lady Morgana's could bring us to this day and this new foe. A new prophecy was then foretold by my people. The prophecy says that one chair of the Round Table shall always be unoccupied, for its rightful occupant shall be the one to find the Grail. And we now know who this will be."

Seren gasped, thinking it be her, but then, Mordred spoke a name she had not expected to hear in such circumstances. "Sir Galahad."

Lancelot stood up abruptly. "No, Mordred. You cannot ask that of my only son. You know what will happen if he sits on that chair. I won't let you."

"Nothing will happen, Lancelot. I swear to you. Galahad is destined to find the Grail alongside Seren. He will sit in the Siege Perilous. Such is his destiny."

Galahad stood, making his mother gasp in horror. "I do not believe in destiny. And only one person here can make me sit in that chair." He turned to Seren, who met his blue eyes with stunning calm.

She walked around the table and stopped next to her uncle. Then she took a deep breath. "Queen Guinevere once told me of a tale. Of how King Arthur took Excalibur out of a rock because he believed he was the rightful king of Camelot." Her eyes never left Galahad's. "If you believe you will find the Grail with me, you will sit in that chair and not die."

Galahad nodded then slowly made his way around the table as well. Lancelot tried to stop him but the young knight soothed him with quiet words. Guinevere stood to kiss his brow and wish him luck, for Seren's words echoed in her.

And then, Galahad reached the chair. Mordred moved it back for him.

The knight reached for Seren's hand, and as carefully as if it was full of snakes, Galahad lowered himself onto the Siege Perilous.

And to everyone's amazement, he remained sat there as if he belonged.