The door opened moments after Morgause departed. Rankin held only a cup in his hand. "You denied magic," he accused.

"I know," Merlin muttered.

"What?"

"I know!" Merlin snapped angrily. "I've regretted that ever since it happened! They didn't need to tell me!"

"Now do you understand how unworthy you are to be Emrys?"

A disturbing thought passed through Merlin's mind. I'm unworthy to be myself.

"When you rejected magic, you rejected those who used it. Our despair and torture continued."

"Arthur...was fair," Merlin argued feebly.

"Is that why you didn't tell him who you were? In your heart, you knew he might kill you because he had to."

Yes, Merlin admitted to himself. Arthur had exiled Gwen for her betrayal, a woman he loved to the depths of his soul. If the man Arthur considered his closest friend had deceived him for years, committing the worst crime in Camelot, what would he have deserved? Arthur would have been forced to confront the good of the kingdom versus the good of his friend, and Merlin sometimes pondered in the dark if death would have been his fate.

"Morgause, Morgana. They only sought to do what you did not."

Maybe that was true, Merlin conceded, but then shook his head. No. "They killed so many."

"How many have you killed in the pursuit of your own destiny?"

Merlin didn't want to go there. Too many.

"So why judge them for doing the same? Because they endangered those close to you? Yet you killed many people you never knew for King Arthur's sake." Rankin walked up to the warlock and knelt in front of him, holding the cup to Merlin's lips. "Drink."

Merlin obeyed. The watered wine brought relief to his scorching thirst.

Rankin held the cup until Merlin drained it all, then looked hard into his eyes. "Destiny should have chosen someone else to be Emrys."

Merlin blinked lazily, his thoughts becoming muddled. Someone else. "Who?"

"You'll see. Rest." Rankin nudged Merlin backwards and the warlock slipped to the floor unconscious.

Nyra aided Carwyn back to Aalef's tent and directed him to a pallet. She poured a cup of water for him. Carwyn accepted it but drank slowly, brow creased, eyes unsettled. "Who is Rewi?" he asked quietly, recalling the person Aalef had said he should find.

"A very old Druid. A woman," Nyra explained. "She used to be an elder among us, but she desired more solitude the older she grew. She's a seer. Aalef knows her haunts. She still trails behind us, in need of us sometimes."

Carwyn's hands hurt. He looked down and realized he was gripping the cup so tightly his knuckles were pale. He set it down.

"Something troubles you," Nyra said. "Besides Emrys' imprisonment."

"Nothing troubles me," Carwyn lied. "I'm just worried for him." He lay down on the pallet turned away from Nyra.

"I thought you'd learned by now you can't lie to me, so stop doing it."

Carwyn sighed. He heard Nyra shuffle over to him and sit next to him. She lay a hand on his back, and he was surprised when she began moving it back and forth, a comforting gesture.

"It's not what you saw, is it?" Nyra whispered. "It's what you heard."

Carwyn gulped. He closed his eyelids against welling tears. He hated crying. It was stupid to cry over something like this.

"Tell me."

Carwyn steadied himself, wiping his eyes with a hand. "Morgana...she was my father's sister."

"Yes. Half-sister."

Carwyn jerked around in shock. "You know?"

"The Druids know this."

"How...why didn't I know?"

"I assume Emrys and your mother want to forget that part of their history. Morgana betrayed them. To remember her...it must hurt very much."

Carwyn bit his lip. Yes, that was probably true.

"But her relation to you makes no difference. She has passed from this world."

Carwyn lay back, staring at the tent ceiling. Nyra was right. His blood and Morgana's were related, but ultimately, this did not have an effect on his life.

"There's something else."

Carwyn glanced at the Druid, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. "Are you a seer?"

Nyra laughed. "No."

"Then how do you know so much about your destiny?"

Nyra looked down. Carwyn felt he must have asked a question that was too personal. He sat up and lifted a tentative hand to her cheek. Nyra swallowed hard and gripped his wrist. "I've been to the Crystal Cave."

Carwyn tipped her chin with his other hand. Merlin had at least told him about this place, how it showed people things, how he'd been trapped there before the battle of Camlann. "What did you see?"

"Me fighting beside you."

Carwyn started when tears sprang in Nyra's eyes. He drew his hands away from her. "You don't have to follow me even if you've seen it," he spoke softly.

Nyra's gaze pierced him. "This is what I feared. That you would think my loyalty is false because it is foretold. It isn't. I want to fight beside you until I die."

Carwyn's heart thumped harshly, and he chuckled. "I could never doubt your loyalty."

"Just because I know my destiny," Nyra spoke vehemently, "doesn't mean I don't want it."

Goosebumps rose on Carwyn's arms. Sitting so close to her like this, he felt all he wanted to do was make love to her, but that certainly wouldn't be appropriate, not now, probably not ever.

"I know my destiny," Nyra spoke on, "as Emrys did...does. It's not easy to know what you have to do. You can feel trapped by it, do things because of it. I look to Emrys for guidance, both to his victories and his failures."

Carwyn twisted his hands together. Nyra may not have been a seer, but her perception was unparalleled. "Merlin told my father there was no place for magic in Camelot."

"When?"

"I don't know. The shade, Morgause, said Merlin and my father had a chance to free magic, and Merlin told him not to."

"Do you know why Emrys said this?"

"No. The shade said he was too devoted to my father, but I don't see what that has to do with it."

Silence fell for a moment, then Nyra cleared her throat. "When I was a child, I idolized Aalef. Mother and father were disappointed in me, but Aalef always took my side. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Then one day, he was brought before the elders and accused of thievery. He'd stolen from an innocent traveling near us." Nyra looked down at her hands. "I was embarrassed, hurt, angry. He confessed and was punished. I didn't talk to him for weeks."

Carwyn had never seen his fiercest warrior so sorrowful. He laid a hand on her arm. "What happened?"

Nyra looked up at him. "I was too stubborn. He came to me first. He told me he had been wrong, but he also told me he had done it because one of our families was in debt to a man in a nearby town. They were being threatened with jail if they didn't repay what was owed. What Aalef did, it wasn't right, but at least when he told me his reasons, I found I couldn't hate him anymore."

Nyra grasped Carwyn's arm, her grey eyes intent. "If you don't know why Emrys said what he did or when he said it, you know very little. Don't condemn him before you know more."

Carwyn lowered his gaze.

"Emrys is held in high esteem by my people not because he did everything right. We hold him highly because he faced decisions more difficult than any man has in a lifetime. And yet he is unsullied. His heart has been battered and mistreated, and still he loves and seeks good."

Carwyn raised his eyes when Nyra laid an unexpected hand on his cheek.

"Emrys is devoted to you. Don't throw away what he has done for you in light of his past."

Carwyn covered Nyra's hand on his cheek with his own.

"Emrys needs you now more than he ever has. These shades, what you have seen, they are telling him everything wrong he has ever done. I can only imagine how much pain it is causing his soul."

Carwyn nodded. She was right. Memories flowed through him—Merlin always on his side, always guiding him, always faithful—and the stories of Merlin's loyalty to his father, their unique friendship. Merlin had done so much good. I can't let this one thing define him.

Nyra made to move her hand away, but Carwyn tightened his grip. He peered into her questioning eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Nyra stiffened and drew back. Carwyn dropped her hand as heat flashed in his cheeks. "I'm...sorry."

Nyra looked away from him.

You idiot! Carwyn chastised himself. "Forgive me. It was inappropriate." Now she wouldn't stay with him for sure!

"It's not time," Nyra spoke so quietly, Carwyn barely heard it.

"What?"

Nyra looked back at him. She smiled. "I forgive you."

Carwyn smiled sheepishly back.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered open and he groaned. His head felt thick and his sight was blurred. He tried to put one thought in front of other and gave up, content to stare at the ceiling flickering with dim light. Slowly, his mind came back to him, replaying the hours—days?—he had been entrapped in darkness. This place was the worst truth for the soul. He had suffered guilt, yes, but had talked it away over the years. Now, he realized he never should have. He deserved the guilt. He had been a coward not to live in it.

Merlin sucked in a deep breath, let it out gradually, and pulled his throbbing body up. His arms and legs quivered with the effort. He meant to count the walls again, assess how many gateways were left, when an object laid within his reach caught his eye. His stomach dropped.

A sword rested in front of him, unremarkable in most respects, save the missing tip. Why was it here? Did Rankin think he had decided to end this once and for all? Merlin glanced around the octagonal room, now counting. Three more gateways remaining. Do I have the strength?

Merlin gazed on the sword, blood rushing through his veins and memories through his mind. His right hand shook as he fingered the hilt. He had seen it plunge into Arthur in the vision Uther showed him. He gripped the handle and held the sword in front of his eyes. He focused on the damaged end. Wherever Arthur rested, the point of it remained, embedded in his heart.

Merlin's lips trembled. The events after the battle of Camlann rushed through him—carrying a wounded Arthur away from the battlefield; his confession; Arthur's mistrust; Gaius sending them away; painful hours trying to make it to the Lake of Avalon. And in between, conversations he should have had with Arthur long before he died. They'd said so much and too little. Merlin desperately wanted that time back, to say things he meant to and didn't. If he'd known he would fail...

Merlin's throat tightened and a deep wail ushered forth. He wept freely for his friend, his king, his life, his mistakes.

Rankin spied through the crystal, a smug smile crossing his face. He hadn't expected Emrys to kill himself, hadn't laid the sword before him for that purpose. The warlock had done exactly as he wanted—faced the truth of who he really was.

"Your greatest love," Rankin whispered, "was your greatest failure."

The sword was a tangible reminder of the warlock's unworthiness to be Emrys, but it also served another purpose. It would stir the coming shade to action.

Carwyn yawned loudly and opened his eyes. Sunlight hit the tent wall in a thin ribbon and Carwyn followed it to the slit in the tent entrance. He pushed himself up, gazing groggily at his surroundings. Neither Nyra nor her brother were present. He discovered a basin of water, a cup, two cloths, and a cake of soap had been laid at his feet. He flushed. He hadn't bathed since they'd left for Ingarsoll. Nyra must have noticed.

Carwyn crawled to the end of the pallet, sat back on his knees, and pulled off his shirt. He submerged the cloth and systematically washed down as best he could. He dipped the cup in the water, then leaned over the bowl, pouring the water through his hair. He soaped it, then rinsed. He picked up the dry cloth and sponged his curly locks. The tent flap drew back and Nyra entered. She glanced at him, then turned away, staring at the other side of the tent.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your privacy, my lord."

Carwyn felt his heart sink. She had donned her chain mail once more, and her hair was braided and circled on top of her head. He shook his head when he caught himself wishing he'd taken the opportunity to run his hand through her hair when it was loose.

"It's alright," Carwyn said.

"I wanted to bring you a fresh shirt," Nyra went on, still turned away. "I've had your armor attended to." It was then Carwyn realized his chain mail and armor were missing.

Nyra reached behind her back, a blue shirt in her hand. Carwyn rose and took it from her, smiling humorously at her modesty. As he slipped into the shirt, which turned out to be a perfect fit, he caught a sweet scent. Nyra had obviously bathed as well. Carwyn squeezed his eyes shut. You need to think about Merlin, clotpole, not your Druid warrior.

"I'm decent," Carwyn said. Nyra turned and didn't smile back at him. "Something's wrong?"

"No," Nyra said. "But Aalef has returned with Rewi."

"Where is she?"

"Here. Come."

Carwyn followed Nyra out of the tent to find Aalef tending a pot over a fire and an ancient woman perching on a log in front of it. Every inch of her thin skin bore a wrinkle. Her gray hair was long and wispy, like tendrils of mist. Her eyes were glazed over with film, and Carwyn thought this ironic for a great seer.

Nyra walked up to the woman. "Prince Carwyn," she introduced.

The old woman spoke in a worn voice. "So it is."

Carwyn didn't waste time. "I am told you can help me."

"Hm," the old woman intoned. "Perhaps. Sit and eat."

"I need to find Merlin. If you could just tell me..."

"Sit and eat."

Carwyn looked at Nyra who handed him a bowl of vegetable porridge. Carwyn sat down and dug in, actually quite hungry despite the feast from the night before.

"Tell me," the old woman said, "what you saw."

Carwyn glanced at Aalef. "Aalef didn't inform you?"

"I would like to hear it from you."

Carwyn swallowed another bite of porridge. "I saw a room. A prison maybe. I'm not sure. There were eight walls. One might have been a door. I think I saw that a previous time."

"And the walls?"

"They were oddly clear and dark, but alight, only dimly."

"And you saw a sorcerer?"

"Not this time, but before I think."

"And spirits?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Carwyn thought back. "My grandfather, Uther Pendragon. A woman. I didn't know her. She had long hair, a strange tattered dress, bright eyes. A man clothed in black. He was the most angry. He said Uther killed his sister and brother. And Morgause." A woman they all knew from history.

"These are all people who despise Emrys."

Carwyn nodded as he finished off his first bowl of porridge. Aalef reached over with a ladle to refill it.

"They have been brought forth by the deepest of dark magic. I fear the reason."

Carwyn lowered his spoon. "What is the reason?"

Rewi rubbed at her temple. "I see much, but this is hidden from me. Yet I sense more than the destruction of Emrys at hand. There is a deeper purpose." She dropped her hand and Carwyn swallowed hard when her glazed over eyes bore into his. "You must find Emrys and stop the evil that he will awake."

Carwyn cocked his head. "The evil Merlin will awake?"

"His power put to wicked use will destroy us all."

"How?"

Rewi shook her head. "No more can I sense than this."

Carwyn sighed. He'd heard seers' knowledge was fickle. He guessed it was true.

Another Druid approached Aalef's tent, carrying Carwyn's arming coat, chain mail, and armor. Nyra took them and thanked him. She turned expectantly to the prince.

Carwyn stood. "Do you know where Merlin is?"

Rewi pressed a hand against her heart. "It is a place long forgotten that should have remained so for all time. Dark forces hewed it for dark deeds. It spews forth death and pain and emptiness. It breaks and maims."

Carwyn wished the seer would be more direct. "Where is it?" he repeated.

Rewi motioned to Aalef, who stood and handed Carwyn a piece of parchment. "I drew a map with Rewi's instructions."

Carwyn took it, grateful Nyra's brother had been more practical. Carwyn ran his eye over it. He shook his head in frustration. The location wasn't too far from Combe. They had been nearby all along. He should have guessed the sorcerer had lured Merlin right where he wanted him. Carwyn ran a finger from the Druid encampment to the location where Aalef had written "caverns."

Carwyn looked up. "Merlin is in these caverns."

Rewi tilted her head. "Underneath them. The path inside the caverns will lead you to him."

Carwyn bowed his head to the woman. "Thank you for your aid." He looked to Aalef. "And yours."

"Find Emrys. That is all the thanks I need," Aalef replied.

Carwyn retrieved his armor from Nyra and began to put it on. The Druid helped him as he needed it and soon he stood at the ready.

"Our horses are saddled and wait for us," Nyra said. She strode over to Aalef, and the sister and brother embraced once more.

Aalef cupped Nyra's chin in his hands. "You know my pride goes with you."

"And my heart with you," Nyra returned. She pulled back from her brother and paced to Carwyn's side. She bowed her head to him, then turned. Before he could follow her, he felt a vice grip on his arm. He turned to see Aalef fixing him with a hard stare.

"She is as strong as iron, but her heart as vulnerable as any man's. Do not misuse it."

Carwyn's heart quickened. How much had Aalef perceived? "I won't," he promised. "You have my word."

Merlin flinched as the door opened once more. The sword lay at his feet, and Rankin glanced at it when he entered.

"Disappointed?" Merlin asked bitterly.

Rankin shook his head. "Not in the least."

Merlin tried to assess the truthfulness of Rankin's declaration. He had thought the sorcerer would have found great pleasure in his dead corpse. But...no, he remembered. Rankin kept hinting at a reason he needed to live. Then why even offer a way out?

Rankin held out a roll. "Will you eat?"

Merlin focused on the bread. He wished he could, but hunger had fled from him, leaving him with grief for his food. "I don't need it."

"I worry over your strength. You should try." Rankin stepped forward and pushed the roll into Merlin's right hand.

"Have you drugged it like my drink?"

Rankin smiled and shook his head. "No."

Merlin stared at Rankin for a moment, then leaned down awkwardly to his side, taking a bite. He chewed mechanically and swallowed. Rankin didn't take his eyes from him until he had devoured it all.

"Two more must speak with you," Rankin said. "The end is in sight for you, Emrys."

Merlin numbered the walls. Two? He counted three.

Rankin walked back to the door, chanting the now familiar spell, then leaving like always.

Merlin looked to his left at the next gateway. Thinking back over his past, he wondered who would come through. He'd wronged so many. Who would get their revenge this time? Whoever it is, he thought darkly, I probably deserve it.

The tendril squeezed his body; Merlin endured it. It retreated. A form stepped into the room. Merlin stared, then cried out, and shouted in a rage. "Se haeftmece! Araeme ond abreode!" The sword rose from the ground, shooting towards the shade as Merlin shrieked at the red-hot pain flaming from his wrists and ankles.

The shade didn't move. The sword plunged through its body and struck the crystal wall, clattering to the ground.

"You cannot hurt me, Emrys. You cannot betray me." The sword lifted up, floating back through the shade and bobbing up and down at its right side. The shade stared at it for a moment, expressionless, then moved his placid gaze to Merlin.

"You have but one choice," Mordred said. "To listen."