She was a ways off yet, but her scent was instantly recognizable. It was that of a decaying flower, only not as cloying; it had been shrouded with the musty smell of the earth, with the acrid tang of fear, and most of all, with the fiery, overbearing scent of anger.

"Emrys," she called, and it was a song, made harsh by hatred. "Oh, Emrys…"

Has there not been enough bloodshed already?

Morgana giggled.

"Oh, no. No, no, Emrys. It has barely begun."

She was getting closer and Merlin wrapped a hand around the stick which was still lying across his chest, using it to drag himself towards the tree line.

"You cannot run from me," her voice in Merlin's head was a hiss, all traces of playfulness gone. "You have taken everything from me." There was a pause. "Tell me, Merlin. Where is your precious Arthur?"

Safe. Merlin tried to sound defiant, but even as he thought the words, his heart fell. Farther away than the sounds of Morgana's approach, and in the opposite direction, he heard horses. It was too distant for Morgana to notice, but the horses were moving fast.

"A pity. I wanted you to watch him die."

Merlin had reached the edge of the clearing and turned, meaning to hide his tracks, but just then the sorceress stepped into the clearing.

"Oh, Morgana. What happened to you?" Even as vulnerable as he felt, Merlin couldn't help but feel terrible pity for a woman who had once seemed so strong, so regal. Her face was dirtied, and long-dried tears had cut paths down her cheeks. She looked decades older.

"You have stolen…everything…that was ever mine," Morgana seemed to be on the edge of tears. "I have no home, no family. My throne… Camelot was mine. My men have all deserted me, and Mordred…"

"Morgana—"

"You don't get to speak!" Her eyes flashed gold as she shouted, and there was a pressure about his neck, hoisting him to his feet and against a tree. The outer edges of his vision darkened.

"I don't want…to fight you."

"It's too late for that!" Morgana's hand was outstretched, and as she drew her fingers together, the pressure increased. "I told you. You took everything from me… and I have nothing left. I have nothing to lose!" She laughed, and the sound froze Merlin's blood. "My heart cannot be broken, for it has already been burnt out of my chest. My soul cannot be sold, because it's as black as yours. I have no love to lose, no hell to fear. I will not stop until Camelot is mine, and until the last of the Pendragons is nothing but ash. And Emrys… If only I could save you for last."

The sound of the horses was getting louder. Merlin could identify four different scents—Arthur, Percival, Leon… and Gaius. He had wanted so desperately not to hurt Morgana, not now, not when he couldn't control his magic, but he couldn't justify putting the physician in danger. If he waited any longer, the sorceress would hear the approaching party, and he would probably be dead before he could protect them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He wasn't planning it. He could barely think; his head was pounding from the lack of air. He opened his mouth for a spell.

A jet of flame escaped the moment his lips parted, and for a moment Merlin was completely dumbfounded as it billowed around Morgana's form. There was a horrible, broken scream and the pressure which had kept him aloft disappeared, and he fell. The hard impact jarred him to his senses and he crawled towards her, his eyes widened in terror. He felt no heat but she was still screaming, thrashing in agony. There was a strange scent in the air.

"Acwence þa bælblyse!" The fire stopped as soon as it begun and Merlin began to sob in huge, panicked gasps as he surveyed the smoldering, quivering form.

"A…a…" There were no lips, merely a parting in the face. "A…"

"Morgana, I'm s-so sorry… I didn't mean to, I d-didn't know…"

She didn't seem to hear him. "A…a…"

"J-Just hang on, Gaius is coming. It'll be okay, I swear, I'm so sorry, oh, gods, I'm so sorry—"

"Ait-t… A…t…" The eyelids opened with a terrible crackling sound and the eyes underneath almost made Merlin throw up. The whites were red, and almost flattened, and the iris had become a misshapen orb of milky, unseeing blue. As he watched, the blue flashed a weak gold. "A-Aithusa…"

There was the sound of wings, distant but approaching with unbelievable speed.

Arthur and his group sprinted into the clearing as the white dragon grabbed Morgana as best she could and flew away. Merlin watched until his vision faded into black. And for a moment, mercifully, he knew no more.