AN: Chapters are going to be a bit shorter (aprox 1500 words) for this story, at least for now. Not to purposely draw it out, but until I get to the major turning point I want to have a clear line separating the three distinct plots.

Nance: Yeah... I'm just going to let him unintentionally starve ;)

Thank you everyone who has reviewed, and a huge welcome to all the new readers and followers. The number of new peeps adding this series to their favorites is just... wow I can't describe the feeling I get knowing so many people are enjoying this. Even with all my notes and ramblings and scatterbrained thoughts along with my personal twists on the myths... and BOY do I have some of that coming up - so hold on tight.

Anyhoo- as always please enjoy and leave a review!


Monks congregate like dogs in a kennel,

From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge,

Is one the course of the wind, is one the water of the sea?

Is one the spark of the fire, of unrestrainable tumult?

Monks congregate like wolves,

From contact with their superiors they acquire knowledge.

They know not when the deep night and dawn divide.

Nor what is the course of the wind, or who agitates it,

In what place it dies away, on what land it roars.

The grave of the saint is vanishing from the altar-tomb.

I will pray to the Lord, the great supreme,

That I be not wretched. Christ be my portion.

~Book of Taliesin, Prieddu Annwn, last stanza (translation copied from maryjones dot us, I claim no ownership)


"This is a bit creepy," Gwaine commented with an edge of apprehension in his voice. "I can't even see my hands this bloody fog is so thick."

"About like your skull then? You should be used to it," Arthur responded jokingly, although his own nervousness was apparent the further they traveled into the white oppressive gloom.

"Hey, there's something in the water," Bedivere said quietly, as if afraid his voice might carry through the blanket of white surrounding them.

Merlin lowered his staff and stepped down off the prow. The boat stopped dead like it was caught in the mud.

Those closest to the one-handed knight glanced over the side into the murky waters beneath them. At first they didn't see anything, then the leaves of the underwater plants shifted and they caught sight of a gleam, like armor under the water.

"It's a person and he's moving," Elyan said suddenly.

"That's one of our cloaks!" Percival gasped.

"Haul him out!" The king ordered.

Merlin tried to protest, "Arthur, no, I don't think it's a good idea!" But his voice fell on deaf ears as the cacophony of the knights scrambling to pull the man from the water drowned out his voice. He was unable to move closer to the sudden flurry due to the narrowness of the boat.

Soon the men succeeded in hauling up the armored figure. At first he appeared dead but then he began coughing and thrashing, trying to clear the water from his lungs. The boat rocked and almost spilled Merlin out, he cursed silently.

"It's Leon," Percival's deep voice cut through the commotion.

Arthur pushed back the others to embrace his friend, a smile of pride on his face and tears of joy moistening his eyes.

Leon finally began to get his bearings and looked around the boat, greeting his old friends and meeting the new additions. Only Merlin noticed the slight hesitancy with which Leon said hello to Bedivere. He glanced between Arthur and Leon, a bad feeling creeping into his gut. They could certainly use the former knight commander's help, but what this meant for Leon, whose body Merlin assumed was still lying in the temple, he could only guess.

Turning back towards the front, Merlin raised the staff once more and called upon the power to move the vessel forward. He could sense deep down that Leon's appearance only meant the end was sweeping down on them quicker than he could imagine.

(*~*~*~*)

It seemed like hours passed as they transversed their way through the fog. Merlin's arm was beginning to tremble under the strain of holding the staff. He attempted to just use his hand while resting the staff on the railing of the boat, but his magic refused to come to him naturally. The warlock could feel his energy starting to wane with the exhaustion. The other men, after greeting Leon and finding out that he had no memory of anything after the battle, had fallen into an uneasy silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Merlin was thankful for the lack of interruption, but it also did little to help pass the time.

Forcing down the fatigue, he took a breath and finally broke the silence, "Gwaine, I will probably regret this, but one of your shanties might do well right now at keeping me alert."

Gwaine blinked as if startled from a dream. He nodded, although Merlin couldn't see it from his vantage and after a few moments decided on a song. "Look at the flowers, all bloody well wilted, isn't it grand boys, to be bloody well dead..."

Aside from Merlin, who heard this song before, the rest of the men turned to Gwaine as if he had lost his mind. The warlock shook his head at the slower and more somber tone the knight was singing this particular dity.

Bran shook his head with a chuckle, "That certainly lends to the statement of pushing up daisies."

"Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody good cry, and always remember the longer you live, the sooner you bloody well die..."*

The change in sound from the dull lapping of the water against the sides of the otherwise silent craft did well to break the entire party out of the stupor that had claimed their minds. Arthur carefully moved around the others to sit directly behind Merlin so they could speak.

"Is it my imagination or is there no sense of it getting lighter or darker?"

"No, I doubt there is any true day or night in a place like this," Merlin replied, thankful for the conversation to distract him slightly from the din.

"Do we even know we're going the right way? Or which way anything is? How much time has even passed?" Understandably Arthur was feeling the strain from the lack of doing anything accompanied by the repressive nature of the mist. "If I had known I was going to be this bored in hell, I would have brought a book."

"Well, Sire, I don't think it would have done much good, I'm a bit too preoccupied to read you a bedtime story right now," He smirked when he heard the kings groan. Before Arthur could respond Merlin straightened his back and squinted his eyes, "I think I see something ahead."

Gwaine stopped singing and glanced around. The sounds of the men in the boat were once more being muffled by the mist.

The king strained to see beyond the fog, "I think you're hallucinating."

"Alright, maybe 'see' isn't the right word, but the wind has shifted and I can feel something out there."

"What wind? We haven't had any wind since we arrived."

"Exactly, and now we do," Merlin stated as if it was obvious.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Bran sat up straighter from just behind Arthur. He wet his finger and held it above his head, "He's right. There's a breeze."

All of the knights stood slowly, one at a time, each beginning to feel the changes around them. Anticipation built and the soft sliding of swords against scabbards as the blades were drawn cut through the encompassing fog.

At once the mist began to dissipate and they could see a shadowed outline in the distance, growing taller, deeper, and darker as the vessel approached. Merlin took advantage of the nervous energy and willed the craft just a bit faster towards it.

The air cleared with a sudden gust that appeared to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. A haunting wind bore down on them; its howling assaulted their ears and forced the knights to shield their eyes. The bow scraped against a rocky shore of sharp black stones as it finally came to a halt jarring the men. Above them all loomed a tower, crooked and bent, the top hidden in low-hanging dark clouds that lent to the ominous nature of the scene.

Merlin felt a hard chill come over him as he looked up and realized the clouds seemed to be alive. Then he noticed it wasn't clouds at all, it was the Doracha swimming and writhing in the air above them like hounds in a kennel pacing anxiously as they awaited the hunt.


*Isn't it Grand (I think I've used this song before, but it fit so well for this part, I had to revive it. My fav version is done by a now defunct group called the Corsairs)