The Edge Of Fire.

The ground was cast in shadow, most lamps having died long ago. Trains barraged along the old steel tracks to his left, elevated just enough that no one could notice him. His boots trod in dirt and crunched against some gravel from the tracks. A crunch sounded behind him. He could hear their breaths as they followed him. Five? No. Six of them. Male. His magic brought back their aroma of alcohol, smoke and something else. Something sharper, stronger. Drugs?

'Hey!' one bellowed at him and he stopped walking. Ahead he could see a bridge masked in the gloom of night, could hear running water of a river below ground. Train wheels screeched past and shook the air. 'You lost?'

They circled round him. Mordred felt nothing in them. No magic. Defenceless.

'That's a nice coat you got there,' a different one said, hitting his friend in the arm to grab his attention. Mordred sighed, waiting for them to finish.

'Don't bother,' he told them. 'Haven't got any money, cards, anything. It'd be a waste of energy.'

'Sounds posh too,' one jeered at him and sniggered.

'Mistake one, being out and about at this hour,' the first one started. Mordred saw his long face within the darkness of the hood. Saw the misshapen nose, the childish features. Young. Too young to be acting so stupidly. 'Mistake two, wondering into our territory.'

A burst of laughter escaped him. 'Territory?'

'You laughing at me?' the too young boy demanded, breaking away from the circle he and his friends had formed. He walked to stand one foot from Mordred's face. The foul breath made him want to gag. 'You think you have the right to laugh at me?'

'Sorry for the offence,' he said calmly, softly and lifted his hands up in the air. The leading one jutted his chin up and out. 'I'll be on my way.'

He aimed to the right of the bad breathed leader but wiry fingers snatched handfuls of his jacket from behind and held him in place. The sneering compatriots swarmed in and he kicked out only to have strong arms lock around his legs and hoist him off the ground as another one wrenched Mordred's head back using his hair. Scalp screaming at him the magic flashed but Mordred forced it back. Too young. They were normal. He couldn't.

His back hit the dirt, all breath forced from his lungs. A foot stomped down onto his stomach and stopped him from taking in more oxygen, then one rammed into his side. Gravel cut into his head and Mordred automatically went to cover his aching stomach when he was tugged up to have a fist crash into his face, knuckles breaking with the bone of his nose as his head whipped back. Pain branched out and his eyes squeezed shut. A hand clamped down over his mouth and it surged. A stranger's magic touched his own. Old Religion had found him. Why now? He couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't. He did anyway. He had to.

Magic soaked the agony wracking his body and Mordred spun, hand grabbing the man's face and ramming it into the ground. Bone cracked, and Mordred's magic splintered out into the earth. A shock wave ripped through the air and blast the other five backwards. Gusts of wind cut around him. Some still conscious went to run but he sent the winds crashing down onto them with a thunderclap.

Mordred felt fissured ribs sew themselves back to health, the internal bleeding draw back to where it belonged as tissues stitched themselves up. Felt the blood coating his teeth, gums, tongue and his magic die away. It left six boys on the ground, dead and alive, with their own blood. They were too still. Too silent. A train boomed past.

'Wonderfully executed,' a woman said stepping up next to him. His limbs, mind, all felt numb. 'Mordred, isn't it?'

He looked at her. Astonishing eyes that glowed in the dark like a felines. He wrapped his magic around himself again, concealing everything he could. 'Do you know me?'

'Everyone knows you. We kidnapped you, or so the news says,' she said with a peculiar grin.

Mordred wiped the blood from under his nose. 'I heard.'

'Why did you come here tonight?'

Her power felt odd. Irregular. 'Retribution?'

'You're close to the witch Morgana. Her kind seek equality, not revenge,' she argued, testing his determination.

'There's your answer then,' Mordred said with a shadow of a smile.

'The police don't suspect either of you?'

'They don't even know magic exists.'

'We'll have to change that, won't we?'

Her gaze was glued to him, never wavering, not even blinking. He suppressed the trembling in his hands. Ignored the bodies scattered around him. They had to trust him. 'Take my hand.'

He had to.

They dispersed into billions of particles, coursing through the moving train, everything standing in their way, until they materialised again. A long narrow hallway stretched out in front of him, several rooms running down the right side, some doors open, some closed. Rubbish layered the floor, boards blocked broken windows and naked bulbs hung from a rotting ceiling. She led him forward, and through each door he saw a scene just as horrifying as the last.

'What is this place?' he whispered.

'This is where most magic users end up,' she said. 'Drugs do it mostly.'

'Why?'

'It's the only way they can suppress their powers. Bottling it all up to try and fit in. If left un-nurtured magic corrupts, Mordred. They don't learn how to defend themselves as you just did,' she explained, stopping and letting Mordred watch a girl push down on a plunger. He could see the chemicals stream into her veins, feel her relief as it corroded away her life. 'The Old Religion once sought recognition, but what happened in the New Year proved how that isn't possible. So, we have a new agenda.'

'Which is?'

'War.'

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.

Arthur was doing up his tie when Merlin got back to the flat.

'I brought croissants,' Merlin announced coming through the front door, holding them up as proof. The blankets he'd left lying haphazardly on the sofa had been folded neatly on one of the seats.

'You were out early,' Arthur remarked, picking up his coffee from the table, back turned away from Merlin.

He put the pastries down next to him, reaching to take Arthur's hand before his own hand dropped back to his side with a second though to the action. 'There was a viewing.'

'Where?'

'St Stephens Gardens in Notting Hill,' he answered, eyeing his fellow DS. His king. His past. 'It's a pretty nice place but won't be on the market for long.'

'Gonna go for it?' Arthur asked, and Merlin noted the gloom clinging to Arthur, dulling the colours which had always been brightest of them all. It had been growing over the last few months, and Merlin pressed his lips together. He knew why. He was why.

'The agent's going to wait until the end of the day, see if there are better offers, but if not,' he forced out softly, hating how Arthur kept staring into the coffee.

He looked up. 'Do you think we should mention the whole magic thing to DC Maclain?'

'She wouldn't believe us even if we did,' Merlin said, his eyebrows pinching together at the sudden shift in conversation.

'You could show her.'

'You know I can't do that.'

'The rest of the team knows.'

'They're different,' he exclaimed. 'They had to know.'

'And she doesn't have to? We can't pursue this case properly while cause of death is a mystery,' Arthur continued, hiding his face behind the black sheen of the mug.

'You're asking me to expose my magic to a complete stranger,' Merlin reiterated, the disbelief adding a sharp edge to each syllable. 'Who knows how she might react.'

He slammed the mug down, the hard thunk painful to hear. 'What other option do we have?'

'Arthur, what's wrong?'

The searing blue eyes drilled into him. 'You.'

'Me?' he breathed.

'You're not the same. You're not the Merlin I know,' Arthur accused, his hand fanned open and gesturing at him before running through his blond hair. 'You're withdrawn, secretive, so bloody serious all the fucking time. What happened? If it wasn't Mordred, wasn't the trial, then what? I'm sick of waking up to find you gone, of never being able to joke or smile with you. Please. What happened? What happened when you disappeared that weekend?'

Merlin made the mistake of trying to soothe him with his magic. The contact channelled back barbed wires of anger and pain. They coiled around him, amplified his own confusion, his suffocating memories. He couldn't speak.

'Are we over?'

'No,' Merlin croaked out, ignoring the burning behind his eyes. 'No, it's just, I don't know. It's complicated, unbelievably complicated and I don't know how to deal with it. Any of it.'

'Let me help,' Arthur pleaded.

'You can't,' Merlin rasped out. The pain he felt, how could he give that to Arthur? Watch him recall the years of betrayal, of wars and dying?

'Should have guessed,' he said, leaving the air between them acrid, stinging Merlin's eyes further. 'Thanks for breakfast.'

He grabbed one of the croissants and head towards the door.

'Arthur.'

The door slammed shut.

His mobile vibrated violently and he answered the call with a swipe of his thumb.

'Merlin Emrys?' a familiar voice queried. 'We'd love to rent the flat to you, if you still want it.'

The agent. Looking to the back of the door Merlin found himself nodding to no one. 'I'm happy to take it. I can pay the deposit later today.'

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Arthur massaged his temples. 'Did Aredian do anything?'

'Nothing,' Leon said, 'but he's the only one left with no alibi.'

'A prime suspect due to circumstance. Still no motive,' Vivian said, arms crossed. An sluggishness possessed them all, and Arthur hoped it wasn't his own foul mood which pervaded and affected them. Operation Nova was only on its third day, and they had to maintain momentum.

'Maybe there wasn't one,' Merlin murmured. Arthur shivered. The depth of Merlin's voice had descended another level, as had the contemplative look in his eyes. It dropped further when drifting off in thought as he was now. It was hateful. His chest ached and his hands yearned to hold the man but it would never happen. He couldn't help him. Merlin had shut him out.

'That's a scary thought,' Gwaine said, standing up to survey the boards. His eyes met Arthur's with question. He had a knack for picking up on when he and Merlin had fights. 'How about some intrusive surveillance?'

Arthur sat up a little straighter. 'You want to go into the target's home?'

'There's not much else we can do and there could be something hidden away in his sock drawer for all we know,' he said with a shrug. Percy stifled a chuckle.

'DS Pendragon, you'll need to comment on the Old Religion case, including Morgana and your father's death. You've been avoiding it, but with her reinstatement you can't dodge it any longer. Obviously DC Maclain will need to make an appearance so the public can rest assured we're keeping everyone in line,' DCS Agravaine intruded upon their planning. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, a childish part oh himself screaming in refusal somewhere in the back of his mind. 'DCI Kilgharrah, we need to have a word later. Right now, Pendragon, Maclain, come with me. Gwaine, why don't you and Merlin set everything up and take a look tonight? I want the rest of you combing through Thornberry's financial records, interviewing everyone. We can't afford to put all our eggs in one basket.'

Arthur and Maclain were sped away by the DCS, Morgana joining them as they walked. He hadn't seen her walking towards them. Twice now they'd used magic and he couldn't be sure. Merlin with Mordred, Morgana just then. He was losing grip of fact and suspicion and it was driving him mad.

'You know what the statement is?' DCS Agravaine asked when they all stood in the lift.

'Why wouldn't they?' Morgana said with a wicked smile and took Maclain's hand to shake. 'I don't believe we've met. I'm Morgana La Fey.'

'I thought it was Pendragon?' the DC bit back.

'After everything, the murder of my father,' she trailed off. Arthur's entire body felt off. The urge to hit his head against a wall almost overcame him. Two loathsome and irritating people, one on each side, and he was trapped between them. Trapped. 'I felt like a change.'

'Of course you would,' Maclain agreed in her too chirpy tone.

The lift doors opened and DCS Agravaine led them out. 'I hope you're all prepared for the wolves.'

'Their not that bad, Agravaine,' Morgana said with a playful grin.

'Not to you. You're the heroic victim. We're the evil, nefarious villains in the tale,' he grumbled, and for once Arthur didn't question the man. A rare moment.

'How poetic,' she said. 'The Press Conference will be starting soon. I've got a car waiting outside to take you all.'

'You're not coming?' Maclain asked as they stepped out into the sunshine.

'I have some matters to attend to beforehand. I'll probably catch the tail end of it,' she explained. Arthur did his best to block them all out but Morgana caught his arm and held him back as the rest headed to the car. 'You haven't said a word to me.'

'What's there to say?' he said sourly, shaking her arm off.

'How about hello?'

'You made your choice. Ruin our family, destroy Merlin. Scratch that, kill him,' Arthur growled. 'There's nothing to say.'

'You don't understand. You can't,' she insisted and he felt winded. Just like Merlin. Assuming he couldn't help, couldn't understand.

'I don't care.'

'You should start to. Anything you hate about me, even Mordred, is also inside Merlin,' Morgana said in a hushed tone. He couldn't see the madness in her eyes as he had at Christmas. Something had replaced it. Once he thought he knew his sister. Once they'd shared toys and sorrows, shared victories. Years later she stood a stranger who seemed desperate for something. Her cheeks were flushed with colour again, and her smiles lacked acid. Yet Morgana was telling him that Merlin was just like her. That madness, cruelty, the bastard's obsession. He'd never believe it.

'He's not a psychopathic killer,' he said in dispute.

'Really? How can you be so sure?' she pressed. 'Magic corrupts and rather than accept it he denies it. You deny it. He plays the Detective Sergeant, the boyfriend, the innocent, and you play along with him.'

Once he'd known Merlin. 'Let's just get this over with.'

'Has he even spoken to you about his magic? About Mordred-'

'You will not talk about him in front of me,' Arthur snarled, rounding on her. She recoiled. 'Don't say his name ever again. Not in front of me.'

White light blinded him as a room full of reporters watched eagerly. Camera flash after camera flash. Then the recordings and questions began.

'Do you think your false accusations against Morgana La Fey scared Old Religion into hiding?'

'It's more likely they've finished their cycle and have taken it as an opportunity to halt all actions,' Arthur said, gritting his teeth.

'So you have no idea who, or where, they could be?'

'The Metropolitan Police has not paused its hunt for these killers,' he answered sharply. 'We will find them. Next question.'

A thin man with brown hair stood. 'What reprimands are being taken on the CID? On DS Emrys?'

'DC Vivian Maclain has been assigned to their team as a way of ensuring there is no incompetency,' DCS Agravaine weighed in. 'A full report will be given on their actions, on the case's progression, any aspect you can think of.'

'Is it true that DS Emrys and officer Mordred Leir were romantically involved during the Old Religion case?' someone blurted out.

'What?' DC Maclain said, looking at Arthur with surprise. His head swam with the blinding flashes, the questions.

'No,' DCS Agravaine answered. 'False allegations serve to stir things up, but they won't help us catch Old Religion, nor will it besmirch DS Emrys' sterling record.'

From the corner of his eye he saw Morgana outside the door's window. She remained there as they tackled each new query until they were finally able to step down from the stage. Outside, Arthur rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves, gulping down the bottle of water they'd provided. It was cold, precious. Nausea dripped into his stomach and mind, heart rate off beat.

'Arthur,' Vivian beckoned when she finished talking to DCS Agravaine. He wondered over to her, dropping the empty bottle into a bin. 'Do you want to get a drink? That was one of the most brutal conferences I've ever had, and I wasn't the one being questioned for three hours.'

Her eyebrows were neat, arching slightly. Fine and elegant compared to Merlin's untamed equivalent. Arthur felt exhausted, sick, angry. Vivian was practically glowing at him, waiting for his answer and he had to think about it, he had to, after all he had Merlin but then again after that morning's show he wasn't too sure about that. Did he have Merlin? Did he even want him, untamed, secretive, dark and attractive Merlin when Vivian watched with her small unimportant gaze, her gold hair, her thin-lipped smile?

'I'd love to.'

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'So when's he supposed to come back?' Merlin said as he took a last bite of a sandwich. They'd parked across the street from Aredian's townhouse, its grandeur undeniable even if surrounded by identical fronts along the whole street. The fear felt centuries ago crept back into his skin and Merlin undid his seatbelt with determination.

'Should be sitting down for dinner with the editor in five minutes. I'd say we've got a good two hours,' Gwaine surmised, balling up the wrapper of his own quick meal. 'Time for some morally ambiguous police work.'

Merlin chuckled and climbed out with his partner for the night. The sky was shot through with a deep blue of the dying light and street lamps already beamed down. Gwaine jogged up the steps, his hands subtly working the picks into the lock. He looked back at Merlin to wink just as the door clicked open.

'We're in,' he whispered back and pulled on some gloves. Merlin did the same and they went in. Gwaine pulled out his phone and began taking pictures. Merlin was in awe of the luxury embedded in each furniture choice, wallpaper, the paintings hanging from the walls. Down the narrow hallway he stepped, quietly and slowly. Everything seemed blurred by the lack of proper light, but there was enough to see by.

'I'll take upstairs,' Merlin murmured, climbing the stairs gently. It was clean, delicate, and he could smell the history of the house, of Aredian. Exotic scents from foreign countries, tables adorned by ornaments made from hand blown glass of every colour. He could almost feel the hands of people across the world shaping the clay of pots scattered around the place too, feel the heat of the furnaces blasting out into strange air he'd never personally know, times he'll never know.

The next room had no ornaments besides the books and articles stacked up neatly on the bedside table. Merlin searched the drawers, nudging his magic about the room but coming up with nothing.

The front door lock sounded downstairs. Ice swept through him. He froze. Merlin tried to feel Gwaine in the house but he was gone, back outside. He hadn't had time to warn Merlin. Dropping to the wood of the floor Merlin slid under the bed. The wooden stairs creaked as someone ascended. Silently swearing Merlin shoved the camera into his jacket's pocket and cupped a hand over his mouth and nose, hoping to stifle the noise. Would Aredian know if he used magic? Could he risk it? Could he risk not using it?

His heart was pounding in his chest, every limb feeling airy with the adrenaline. Smart shoes walked into the room, then golden light flooded it as a light was turned on. Merlin's face felt hot with his breath blowing back against it. His chin was pressed against the wooden panels with the bed's frame resting only inches above his body. Aredian opened his wardrobe, pulling clothing out and throwing it onto the bed. They thumped softly onto the duvet.

'I have no intention of undressing with you hiding there. Stand up or I'm calling the police,' Aredian said, his voice a sore memory to Merlin. He rather inelegantly climbed out and got to his feet, staring at the witchfinder with a bed the only thing between them. 'How did you get into my house?'

'Picked the lock,' he replied, breathing in the cooler air with relief.

'Why? You don't look like a thief,' the man, reporter, killer asked him. His gaze was piercing, mouth set firmly and each word articulated with precision and poise, with power.

'Does it matter?'

'Yes. When a stranger breaks into my home at night and takes to searching through my things I like to think it matters,' Aredian asserted, loosening his tie and placing it down on the bureau. He stepped around the bed towards him. 'Especially when they're abominations.'

Merlin's heart hammered his ribs, any security from his magic strangled. The void he'd seen at Thornberry's seemed to tumble out of Aredian, his presence draining him of any strength. Aredian was different from the last life. He had power.

'You're riddled with it, and now it's clinging to my home,' he continued, his crushing focus trained on Merlin who backed away as far as possible. 'As far as people are concerned you do not exist. You're a fiction in the modern world. There's no place for your kind. Tell me why I shouldn't purge you right now?'

A lifeless terror soaked his body which closed the last space left. Rough fingers rubbed against the skin of his neck, the warm hand pressing Merlin further back against the wall.

'That's what you did to Thomas Thornberry, wasn't it? Purged him,' Merlin said, ignoring the discomfort of the scalding emptiness oozing into him, the edge of fire licking his skin. Aredian's grip tightened, fingertips pressing with dangerous force into his skin. The blood in his veins pumped against the pressure. 'Wouldn't do that if I were you.'

'Oh? Why shouldn't I?'

'There's a police officer parked in front of your house. I'm expected,' he rasped. 'Finding a corpse wouldn't look good for you.'

Aredian gave him a tight lipped smile. The heat blew away from his skin as the hand pulled away. The witchfinder moved out of his way.

'Better be on your way then, Merlin, and don't come back,' he warned. 'I never forget a face.'