See the great marble of the world below, swirling in its iridescent colours of blue, white and green. For its inhabitants the world is no more than the ground beneath their feet, that sustainer of life.
But the world has more plans than anyone can ever understand.
In a small green isle there exists a court long hallowed throughout history. Behold the court of the great King Arthur and all its noble knights: Lancelot, Gawaine, Perceval… yet those that hold the sword are not always responsible for changing the course of time.
Let us look closely at this small forest clearing, and the two figures that stand within.
"Your destruction is complete," says the old man, known to many as Merlin.
"It was no more than was deserved," the lady replies, her raven hair blowing in the wind, "All order must be balanced. Chaos and order are both needed for the world to turn. Arthur forgot that."
"There is a difference between destruction and chaos." says Merlin sadly.
The two look at each, a million lifetimes worth of emotions and feelings passing unspoken.
"Will you go far from here?" asks the woman, her eyes deep and brown.
"Yes, Morgan." said Merlin, "I suppose I must find myself a new apprentice."
"Then I doubt we will meet again." she says.
She walks forward and places one kiss, one gentle kiss, on the old man's lips before fading to nothingness.
Merlin waits there a little longer, feeling the smells of the old world disappear around him. Everything he once knew has now gone, all those he held dear. In resigned silence he draws his cloak about him and walks slowly until he reaches the main road.
As the sun continues to shine he walks on, and he lightly sleeps in the night until first light, when he resumes his travels. Many a young man or woman has been robbed on this route, caught unawares by a group of vagabonds. Yet Merlin remains untouched. Perhaps it is the deep knowledge that can be felt upon approaching him, perhaps it is the sense of him having many lifetimes left to live… he is left alone.
When he finally reaches the town he books a room for himself at the inn before wandering about the market. It is Saturday and the town is alive with music and commerce. Street jugglers and fire breathers provide spectacles for an excited crowd; flower stalls sell a multitude of blooms, all of which Merlin can recite by name. He walks past each stall inspecting the goods for something to do. It eventually dawns on him that he should buy some food to eat, but he is not hungry; he has not been hungry for a very long time.
As he walks past a fish stall he hears the shop owner chide a young boy sitting behind him.
"What are ya doin', readin' and readin' like that? I keep tellin' ya, man the stall, watch the fish don' go all rotten. What do I catch ya doin' when I go and take a piss? Ya' readin' again! Why I chose ya…"
Merlin watches curiously out of the corner of his eye. The young boy is calm, with piercing blue eyes and a shock of blonde hair.
"I am sorry, Master." he says quietly, more well spoken than Merlin expected.
The sweaty shopkeeper sniffs, rubbing his wet nose with a greasy sleeve. "Ya get back to work right now, d'ya hear?"
Merlin buys himself some mackerel for the sake of it and makes his way back to the inn.
The following Monday he tells himself he will find himself something useful to do with his time, but he finds himself listless. Once he was full of life and purpose; but now all of that has been taken away from him.
He returns again to the fish stall, where he catches the boy sneaking glances at some scrolls in between manning a fish stall. As the days pass the boy becomes better at evading capture, and Merlin finds he becomes delighted at watching how the boy becomes more and more subtle.
On the seventh day he approaches the stall when its owner is gone on another toilet break.
"Hello." he says kindly to the boy.
The sharp blue eyes look back up at him. The young face smiles, but does not say a word.
"What is your name?" he asks.
The boy does not reply.
"How about this," Merlin tries, "If I buy some fish, will you tell me your name?"
He hands over a fillet of trout and the boy wraps it before exchanging it for some coins.
"Victarion." says the boy, as Merlin takes his purchase.
Merlin inclines his head, "Hello Victarion, my name is Merlin."
As he looks closer at the boy he realises with a jolt that Victarion's feet are bound to a ring by iron chains.
Every day Merlin makes an effort to return to the stall, and for two weeks he finds himself full of new purpose… whatever it is. But as time goes past he realises he has become restless. He needs to move on, to travel more. Perhaps he will make a cabin for himself somewhere in the moors - or perhaps a beautiful tower. Either way, he knows he has to leave.
On his last day he finds himself approaching the stall owner. Before the man can speak Merlin holds up five shiny gold coins.
"I would like to buy that young boy there, if you please."
"Wot?" asks the man crudely, his eyes fixed on the money.
"That young lad there, for this money." Merlin repeated.
The shopkeeper thought hard for a moment: he appreciated another pair of hands, no matter how useless he thought them… but at the same time his mind was speaking the language of currency. It was more money than he had ever seen in his life, and more money that he was ever likely to turned to Victarion, who thus far had sat watching the scene with passive yet comprehending eyes.
So it was that the next day Merlin left the town with Victarion in tow.
"The road will be long," says Merlin.
"I will not be a hindrance." Victarion says, "Especially if you wish me to be your apprentice."
This admission does take Merlin by surprise, who had suspected the depth of the boy's intelligence but still did not expect such perceptiveness. Years pass with Victorian working under Merlin. Together the two build a beautiful stone tower in the ruins of Camelot and by the time the young boy has grown into a young man Merlin knows that in terms of knowledge and power Victarion will soon be able to surpass him in all things.
On the first morning of spring Victarion is out collecting herbs and plants, something he remembers doing when he was not a slave and was a million miles away from this new place he calls home. He places some dittany into his pocket when he sees a figure running towards him.
His first thought is that she is beautiful. She has brown hair streaming behind her and a slightly matted red cloak covering her frame. Her face is a picture of distress.
Their eyes meet and whatever she is about to say is lost to the moment between them. But all moments must end.
"You serve Master Merlin, do you not?" she asks, face flushed, voice breathless.
He nods, eyes still disbelieving.
"Please, you must come and get him. My mother… my mother is dying and we were coming to visit him for his advice but… but she collapsed on the way here. She is just back there, b… beyond the trees. Please, will you help me?"
By the time Victarion has picked up the young woman's mother and carried her to Merlin's tower the old lady's breaths are becoming fainter and fainter. Merlin turns on his apprentice's arrival and his eyes cloud as Victarion places her gently on the table.
"Oh Morgan," he says, as he rushes forward and takes her hand, "Look at us two, bastions of an old world now lost. Why could it not have been better between us?"
Morgan Le Fay attempts to say something, but she cannot manage a word, so weak is she. She desperately searches for the young woman's hand.
Victarion watches as the young lady grasps the hand of her mother, her face full of grief and strength.
"W - wan… wan - d - daughter." Morgan manages, before falling into silence for the last time.
The two men stand back in silence and grief as the young woman cries, holding the hand of her mother. As the evening sets in she eventually stands up, her tears spent.
"Thank you, Merlin." she says earnestly, nodding in respect.
He nods, "You are welcome." the old man says, "You may stay as long as you wish. It is the least I can do for a daughter of Morgan Le Fay."
The young woman says nothing but before she turns her eyes meet Victarion's and they hold. When dawn breaks Victarion rises and realises that the young woman is gone from her sleeping place near the fire. He makes his way outside and sees her lone figure looking out towards the horizon.
She does not turn at his approach.
"You will not stay?" he asks, his voice quiet and gentle.
"I cannot." she says, turning to face him, and moves to gently take his hands.
He looks at her and understands. He does not want to plead for her, and he does not need to.
They look at one another, a multitude of thoughts and emotions connecting them without a single word spoken. She moves forward quietly and places a kiss on his forehead. It is soft, perfect, and Victarion knows he will never forget it as long as he lives.
"Wanda." she whispers into his ear, "My name is Wanda."
As he looks up he sees her dissolve into nothing, fading away from him like her mother did to his master all those years ago.
So it was that Victarion the Wise, apprentice of Merlin, and Wanda le Fay, daughter of the famed Morgan, met and parted for the first and last time.
But the world spun on, and in time all things come back around.