A/N: Tis the season for a creepy Halloween fic. XD


"Fear the Raven's Call"

It had been a while since Arthur could pull away from his kingly duties for a good hunt, so when he finally found time, it was just him and the knights of his inner circle, plus Merlin, of course. They had been tracking a stag on and off until they entered a part of the forest they'd never been in, and Lancelot noticed it was eerily quiet. The air felt so close under a thick canopy of trees that seemed to be getting darker the further they went. Then, out of nowhere, a dense fog rolled in. Before Lancelot knew it, he couldn't see anything a foot in front of him.

"Call out!" he shouted.

No one answered him.

"Arthur! Merlin!" Lancelot yelled for his friends but was met with utter silence. He couldn't understand how he'd gotten separated so quickly. He tried to turn around and backtrack, but it was impossible to see where he was going, and tripping over exposed roots and ruts inevitably turned him around even more. He kept shouting, growing desperate and alarmed.

"Over here!" a faint voice called back.

Lancelot tried to narrow in on it.

"Help!"

He quickened his pace. The voice was slightly distorted, but it sounded familiar.

He stumbled through the fog until he suddenly ended up barreling into a glade free of the mist. He pulled up short in surprise. The air here was completely clear, while the heavy fog lingered along the perimeter. And there was no one else there, save for a bunch of ravens perched on the branches of contorted trees. Gaping, oval hollows in the trunks made them look like faces with empty eye sockets petrified in silent screams.

The birds fluttered their wings and croaked. Then one of them angled an eye directly at Lancelot and opened its beak.

"Over here," a perfectly human sounding voice emanated from the raven. Not just any human—but Lancelot's own voice.

He backed up a step as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. The ravens began to cackle. Lancelot turned to go back into the fog, but the ravens launched from their perches and descended on him in a flurry of squawks and feathers. He threw his arms up to shield his face from their sharp talons and pointed beaks as their wings beat against him.

They drove him backward into the center of the glade where his foot sunk into something thick and gloppy. Lancelot's arms pinwheeled to regain his balance as the birds returned to their branches and began to chant in unison a language he didn't know.

He focused on pulling his leg free from whatever this inky muck was, but the stuff only seemed to suction him deeper. A tendril of it slithered out to cover his other foot and yanked it out from under him. He yelped as he fell to his hands and knees in the viscous tar. It squelched around his limbs and started to drag him down. He couldn't get his arms out.

"Help!" he yelled as panic set in, but the ravens drowned out his cries with copies of their own.

The black gunk flowed under Lancelot's chest, then up and over his back. He didn't know whether to scream or hold his breath as it slurped over his head, the ravens' laughter the last thing he heard as he was sucked completely under the surface.


Leon waded through the white brume, trying to maintain his composure. He had no idea how he could have gotten so lost, nor why he hadn't run into anyone else yet. They couldn't have all gone in completely opposite directions. What were the odds of that?

A distant voice called his name, muffled somewhat in the fog.

"Lancelot?" he called back.

"Over here!"

Leon pressed on toward him, shouting, "Where are you?"

"Hurry!"

Leon was going as quickly as he could considering he couldn't see several inches in front of his face. There was no gradual thinning of the mist between being completely immersed and then stepping into a glade wholly devoid of it. There was no Lancelot, just a bunch of ravens. They all began to flap their wings on their perches and say Leon's name in perfect imitation of Lancelot's voice, but then they morphed into Leon's own.

He whipped out his sword as a chill ran up his spine. A raven dive bombed him from behind, and he staggered forward under the assault before spinning around to face the fiend. But then he felt a suctioning sensation gripping his foot, and he looked down to find black goo coiling around both his boots. He tried to extricate himself from it but couldn't. He was stuck.

Leon strained harder, and somehow that just made the treacly gunk creep up his legs faster. He raised his sword to hack at it, but a raven swooped down at his face again with a raucous scream. He fell backward, splashing fully into the obsidian pool and going under in an instant. The viscous substance covered his mouth and nose, and just when he thought he was about to suffocate, he was suddenly spat back out.

He broke the surface with a ragged gasp and flailed his arms to escape the tar pit. But he was no longer in the glade; he was in a sea of black goo populated with dead trees covered in thick, black webbing that seemed to be made of the same substance. Hollows in the trunks looked like skeletal faces frozen open in terror. The sky was a pewter gray as far as the eye could see.

And Leon wasn't free—he was waist deep in this rot, with sticky tendrils clinging to his face and hair, and during his initial flailing, his arm had gotten pinned to a tree trunk at his back. He was immobilized.

He turned his head back to see if he could prize his arm free, only to yelp when he found a desiccated corpse suspended in the webbing above him. Its wrinkled face mirrored the tree trunks, and there were deep scratches around the eye sockets.

"Leon?"

He whipped his gaze back to the front, expecting to see those sinister ravens. But it was Lancelot. He was also bound to a tree across from Leon, waist deep in this ichor, with a sticky mess of it in his hair that seemed to be holding his head trapped against the bark.

"Where are we?" Leon asked in alarm.

"I don't know. I stumbled into a glade with a bunch of ravens, then fell into some kind of black quicksand. When it sucked me under, I thought I was done for, but then I ended up…here."

"The same happened to me." Leon didn't mention the ravens had mimicked Lancelot's voice.

He swept his gaze around for clues but didn't see any. Whatever this place was, it reeked of sorcery. He turned his attention back to his limbs and tried to wrench free of the webbing, but it held fast. They were thoroughly stuck.

And in very real trouble.


Percival sat on a tree stump as the heavy fog crawled around him. Once he'd realized he'd been separated from everyone else, he'd decided to stay put and wait for either the fog to clear or the others to find him. Normally, he could be patient, but so far neither outcome was happening and this was getting ridiculous. Still, he wasn't about to risk getting more lost than he already was by stumbling around blind.

"Percival!" a faint voice wafted through the mist.

He straightened and strained his ears.

"Percival!"

He got to his feet. "Lancelot? Leon?"

"Over here!"

"Hurry!"

"Help!"

Percival lurched into action, barreling through the fog toward the sound of his friends' voices. They continued to call for help, then fell abruptly silent when he burst into a glade. He pulled up short and looked around in confusion. A bunch of ravens cocked eyes at him and began to giggle. The laughter turned maniacal and they flapped their wings as they began to screech out,

"Percival! Help us, Percival!"

They sounded exactly like his friends.

"Where are they?" he demanded.

The ravens continued their cacophony, but Percival noticed a large pool of inky black in the glade. Leon's sword was sticking out of the edge of it.

Percival surged forward and snatched the blade up, only to find the substance was gooey and hung in sticky strands off the sword. He tried to wipe them off, but they clung to his arms instead. Then the long cords reconnected with the pool at the base, and suddenly Percival was yanked down into the obsidian glaze.

He was only submerged for a few heart-stopping moments before he came bursting up again. He reeled backward in shock, his back hitting something spongy that bounced slightly as he hit it. But it stuck to his back and suddenly he couldn't move at all, his arms trapped beneath the surface of the inky gunk. And he was no longer in the glade, but some strange realm. Leon and Lancelot were there, similarly pinned.

"Wh-what happened?" Percival gasped.

"We don't know," Leon replied. "Magic, it seems."

Percival strained against the strange substance pinning him, to no effect.

"We've already tried getting free," Leon said.

Percival kept it up until his cheeks were puffing and his lungs burning before he finally gave up. Slumping back against the webbing at his back, he turned his attention to his friends. "I thought you were calling for help. But it turned out to be a bunch of ravens."

Leon nodded, clearly disturbed. "Same here."

"It's quite the trap," Lancelot agreed, voice subdued.

Percival frowned as he noticed Lancelot looked pale and limp where he sat, though that could have been because of the position he was bound in. Still… "You all right?" Percival asked.

Lancelot grimaced. "I have been feeling incrementally weaker since I arrived here," he admitted. "Like…it feels like my strength is being drained out of me."

Percival stiffened in alarm.

Leon's brow furrowed. "I'm starting to feel tired too. I figure it's just the come-down after the rush of a fight."

"I thought so too at first," Lancelot replied. "But even if I had the ability to move…I no longer feel strong enough to try."

Percival exchanged a worried look with Leon. This wasn't good. He started to strain against the sticky webbing again.

"Save your strength," Leon said soberly.

"For what?" he rejoined. "So we can be slowly sapped of it?" Percival shook his head. "We need to get out of here."

But, of course, he couldn't get free. And the mire they were sitting in was too thick and viscous for him to move his hands to retrieve his sword.

What seemed a short while later, a bubble began to form a few feet away, swelling rapidly. Percival tensed. The bubble stretched thin before it popped, splattering black ichor everywhere, and there was Gwaine, thrashing around with a raven's feet caught in his fist. The bird was squawking and pecking at his hand, so Gwaine flung it away. He then batted frantically at the treacly strands stuck in his hair, which only served to bind his hand to his head. Cursing, he struggled to separate them, then tripped and fell backward, landing in the gunk and falling completely still as the tar settled around him, with only his head and upper chest above the surface, his one hand still plastered to his hair. A string of curses fell from his lips at that. The raven he'd brought with him flapped wildly in the treacle before it sank under the surface.

"Gwaine!" Leon snapped, finally gaining his attention.

His wide eyes swept over the three of them. "Bloody hell, what is this?"

"I think you named it," Lancelot answered tiredly.

"An unearthly realm, that's for sure," Leon added.

Gwaine looked at each of them again before grimacing. "At this rate, rescue is looking unlikely."

None of them responded to that. Arthur, Elyan, and Merlin were still out there… But they had no way of determining what had happened to them, and if they were lured into the same trap…then any rescue was going to become the next victim.


Merlin had managed to not get separated from Arthur when everyone else had suddenly disappeared in the eerie fog, and the two of them had been ambling around in search of their friends for what felt like an hour. Arthur was vexed, and Merlin was worried. Something about this fog felt…unnatural.

"Merlin!" Gwaine's voice echoed faintly through the forest. "Arthur!"

"Gwaine?" Merlin yelled back. "Where are you?"

"Over here!"

"Over where?" Arthur scowled loudly.

Percival's voice distantly rang out next, "This way!"

Merlin and Arthur made their way toward where it seemed like their friends were calling from. One moment they couldn't see where they were going and the next they'd walked right into a giant tar pit. They barely had time to process the danger before they were sucked under and then spat out again, covered in viscous goo that left them flailing haplessly in a sea of obsidian oil.

"Arthur!" Leon's voice exclaimed.

Merlin jerked his head around and spotted the other knights, except for Elyan.

"Nice of you to join us," Gwaine said drolly.

"What is this place?" Arthur gasped.

Merlin continued to look around frantically. He could feel the magic in this realm…and it was malevolent.

"We don't know," Leon answered, a note of resignation in his tone. "We were all lured here one by one and trapped. And…whatever this stuff is…it's draining our strength."

Merlin snapped his attention back to his friends to look them over more carefully. Leon was pale. Percival and Gwaine seemed all right, albeit stuck. But Lancelot was nearly ashen and his eyes half lidded.

"Lancelot?" he called worriedly.

His friend's eyelids fluttered as he flicked a look back at Merlin in acknowledgement and then a silent question. Merlin's jaw tightened. There had been a number of times in his life where he'd been faced with revealing his magic. And every time, such a crisis was averted. Now, though, this might be it. He couldn't see another way out and time was running out quickly. So Merlin prepared himself to reveal his long-held secret and risk his life in doing so…

But the moment he summoned up his magic, it was snatched away. Merlin's breath left his lungs with a punch at the shock of it. He tried again, only to suddenly feel his energy being siphoned away into whatever treacly substance this was. Along with his magic.

He shot a panicked look back at Lancelot. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't free them.

Lancelot's mouth pinched as he seemed to get the message.

"Where's Elyan?" Arthur asked, looking around.

"Not here yet," Leon answered.

"Maybe he got away," Percival put in. "Maybe he'll bring back help."

"For what?" Gwaine rejoined. "So every knight in Camelot can come join us?"

The tar sea around them began to ripple, and from its depths, inky ravens rose up. They pulled free of the gummy substance and leaped up to settle on the tree branches, dripping ichor and croaking as though in anticipation. Merlin reflexively tried to inch away from them, but he was stuck in the goo, just like everyone else. He wracked his brain for what else he could do to save them, but nothing was coming to mind, not if his magic wasn't available.

Then a large bubble began to swell up over by Lancelot.

"Oh no," Percival uttered.

Merlin tensed, not knowing what to expect. But then the bubble popped, and Elyan was there, flailing wildly before the sticky webbing snagged him in place and tied him down against one of the contorted trees. Everyone's expressions fell at his arrival; now there was no hope of help coming from the outside. And they were utterly helpless in their current state.

One of the inky ravens hopped from branch to branch, making its way down to Lancelot where it landed on his shoulder and began pecking at his face. With the sticky gunk in his hair, he couldn't even wrench his head away from the assault.

"Hey!" the others yelled. "Get off him!"

The creature ignored them, cawing in apparent delight as it continued to jab its sharp beak at Lancelot's face. Merlin didn't miss the corpses hanging from other trees with their eyes pecked out, and he was growing more desperate.

Then he spotted something glowing beneath the opaque tar near Arthur. It was long and thin and…radiating magic.

"Arthur!" he blurted. "Excalibur! Get Excalibur!"

Arthur glanced down to where his legs and waist were submerged but the sword was visibly glowing. He tried to move his arm toward it, but it was like moving through molasses.

"Argh, I can't!" he ground out in frustration.

Merlin gritted his teeth and focused all his magic. The mire was draining it out of him, fine, but he was going to make it count. He concentrated on making the flowing magic course toward Excalibur and lift it up from the thick gunk. The tip rose up and broke the surface, and the hilt finally found Arthur's trapped hand. Once blade was connected to its rightful wielder, Arthur was able to move just a little more. It took some effort, but he began to cut away all the webbing around him and gain his feet in the inky swamp.

Something deep and primordial screamed, and Merlin felt a hard yank on his magic that stole his breath away. The other knights all gasped and jerked as well, their eyes rolling back as the buried entity sucked their strength out in response.

Arthur turned to Leon, who was closest, and hurried to cut him free. The preternatural ravens attacked, forcing Arthur to focus on defending himself against them. Excalibur cut through their inky bodies, reducing them to black spatter. Arthur finally managed to get Leon free and grasped the knight's arm to haul him to his feet. Leon staggered against him, weakened by the entity's drain. Arthur turned to Percival next, though wading through the muck was still difficult and slow.

Merlin was shuddering as his magic was sucked out of him, and he watched helplessly as his friends jerked and convulsed as well. Arthur cut through Percival's bonds, halting the drain on his reserves. Percival struggled upright and drew his sword to help.

Arthur made it to Merlin and cut him free, and Merlin gasped as his magic stopped coursing out of him.

"What sorcery is this?" Arthur said, looking unnerved at his sword. It was the only one glowing in this realm.

"Who cares if it saves us?" Merlin rejoined and lurched past him to get to Lancelot and Elyan.

The black sea groaned around them, and tendrils started shooting out to recapture them. Arthur took up position between his friends and the tentacles and hacked them all to pieces.

Percival got Gwaine free, then headed to Lancelot and Elyan. Gwaine was able to get hold of his sword as well and helped free the last two. Lancelot was unconscious, and Elyan and Percival slung his arms over their shoulders.

"Now what?" Elyan yelled. "How do we get out of here?"

Merlin's heart was pounding as he tried to think. "We came up after going down," he started. "So we should try the reverse."

"What?"

"Dive!"

"That's madness," Leon protested.

"So is staying here," Gwaine argued. He looked at Merlin for a tense moment, then dove into the black sea.

Percival and Elyan exchanged a look before plunging under with Lancelot. After several moments, none of them had come back up.

"Arthur, let's go!" Merlin shouted.

"You first!" he yelled back, still fending off the attacking tentacles.

"What if they drowned?" Leon exclaimed.

Merlin's mouth pinched into a tight line. "Better a quick death than getting sucked dry by whatever evil thing lives here." And he dove down.

Swimming through the viscous fluid was difficult, and soon Merlin couldn't tell what was up or down. His lungs were just beginning to burn when he finally broke through into fresh air. Then arms were grabbing him and dragging him the rest of the way out of the tar pit. He dropped to his knees, coughing to catch his breath. Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan helped pull Leon out, then Arthur. Excalibur was no longer glowing, which was good. Merlin hoped Arthur would forget about that little incident.

The black pool began to roil, and the ravens in the forest were screaming in fury. Arthur turned around and stabbed Excalibur straight into the tar. There was another blood-curdling shriek, then the substance began to recede, shrinking until it was a single drop that disappeared into the ground like it was never there. The ravens took flight and fled.

Arthur turned to his friends in the ensuing silence. "Everyone okay?" he asked breathlessly.

They were all alive, but Lancelot was still unconscious.

Merlin scrambled over to check him over. His pulse was sluggish and his pallor gray, but he was breathing. There were several small scratches on his face that needed tending, but not here.

Without needing to say it, they all collected themselves, supporting each other as they hurried away from this place. They didn't stop until they emerged into a lighter part of the forest with sunlight streaming down in bright, warm shards. There, they planted themselves in the grass to soak in the light and rest, since half of them were pretty wiped from the ordeal. Merlin's exhaustion was deeper, more related to his magic. It still made him move slowly as he cleaned the cuts on Lancelot's face.

Lancelot's eyes scrunched as he regained consciousness.

"Hey," Merlin said softly.

He squinted in the sunlight hitting his face. "We're out?" he asked weakly.

"Yeah. Everyone's pretty drained but okay. Seems like you got the worst of it."

Lancelot closed his eyes. "Was there…longest." He forced his eyes open again to look earnestly at Merlin. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Merlin knew what he meant. "I will be," he replied, keeping his voice down. "The entity was feeding on you-know-what, but I'm sure with rest I'll be back to normal like everyone else."

He tensed up and fell silent as Arthur made his way over.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Lancelot, crouching down next to them.

"Still alive," he answered tiredly.

"Good. When you're ready, we'll head home."

Lancelot made to move like he would try to get up now, but Arthur placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Rest first. We all need it."

Lancelot settled back down and closed his eyes. Merlin drew his knees up to lock his arms around them and just sat there, occasionally looking over the others to make sure they were doing okay. This part of the forest felt peaceful and the sun was warm, which did wonders for him, at least.

Then a raven flew in and landed on a nearby rock. They all jerked ramrod straight as the bird cocked its head at them, then let out a croak. Gwaine snatched up a rock and threw it. He missed by a few inches, but the raven squawked indignantly and flew off.

In the past, Merlin would have called him mean for that, but in this case, he never wanted to have a close encounter with those insidious birds again.