Risen


The last time Merlin was to die by fire they took a torch to his house while he was sleeping. It was a small village and his vegetables grew too well. He awoke in an inferno, from ironically the best sleep he'd had in years. They were outside waiting for him to run out screaming, so he sat in the flames and waited for the fire to die and for the mob to leave, before dusting himself off and walking away into the night. Next morning the embers had cooled, the villagers found only ashen footsteps calmly walking away.

Kilgarrah attacked the next day. When the sunset that night Merlin was stood on the hill looking out at the village, a silhouette, black on orange, watching the fires rage. He wanted to tell Kilgarrah to stop, and find it in himself to stand up for those weaker than him. He wanted to have enough mercy to order his brother not to kill those that had killed him. He wanted to be that kind of man again, but standing there wearing the ashes of what had been his home for twenty years, all he could do was watch them burn.