WARNING: graphic imagery of war
The sky was red with blood, corpses adorned the ground. Most were knights, wearing Camelot red or the crest of the entangled viper. Some were medics, dressed in white gowns with splotches of red from either themselves or their charges. Gaius lay on top, his eyes lifeless and bleeding, his limbs twisted in every manner imaginable. His death was not the only oddity of the battle. The knights all faced a similar direction, their wounds appearing to be inflicted by some source not currently present. They had not been fighting each other. They had fought together against something. And lost. Lost miserably. At least fifteen thousand men. At the front line Arthur lay upon a dead sir Leon, a single rib poking out through his armor as he struggled to breathe. Morgana gently moved his arms trying to get at it. He screamed in pain, slamming his eyes shut steeling himself.
"Don't move." she said hovering her hands above it.
Crunch, crack, stomp. He was getting closer. Morgana forced herself not to look, focusing instead on her injured brother and the healing spell she was chanting loudly. The figure behind her kept advancing slowly, allowing the pitiful lady before him to finish her task. He was excited to fight them both again, watch as their hope drained from their eyes, play with them until they could no longer entertain him. Until they crumbled, crumbled beneath his feet like everything else. The grass withered and grayed, and the bodies turned to dust. He would continue to suck the life out of everything if they could not stop him.
Upon finishing her chant Morgana stands to face the attacker, her hand out in front of her loose and unsure.
"Stay back." her voice had no more surety than her stance.
Through his shaggy black beard a smile could be seen. It spread all the way to his golden eyes. He had been enjoying himself and this was the last of it, the sweetest moment he would cherish forever. He laughed uproariously. The great Morgana Lefay was trembling before him, once again not taking any responsibility for the outcome. This would be a fitting end, poetic justice for her crimes against him. As he cackled she tried to attack with the whole might of the battlement behind her, swords flying from their sheaths towards him. They never made contact. The metal melted a metre away from their target, pooling onto the ground and searing the skin of the fallen men below.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Morgana?" He said gesturing to Arthur on the ground behind her, soon to die by his hand.
She took a step back as he continued to approach her. His laugh was unrelenting.
Morgana woke with a start, the cold of the hut did nothing to prevent the sweat from pouring down her face. She didn't need to check her arm to know that her bracelet was nestled perfectly in it's place, failing to keep the frightening prophecy away. As much as she would have preferred to not have such a dream, she knew that she needed the information. Her current path was one of destruction, and from the looks of it, it would take place soon. She needed to find the catalyst. Figure out what set her down this path and avoid it. After wiping the sweat from her brow she looked frantically through her books, ripping one after another from the shelf looking for any sort information that might help her. Finally, she landed on a spell. It was a summoning spell. The text next to it explained that it would not provide very tangible results and many a soothsayer doubted it's effects at all as they could be explained as coincidence as well.
Something was better than nothing, she concluded. She had not shaken the feeling of desperation from the cursed nightmare. A future so bad that she would turn to Arthur for help would drive anyone insane. It gnawed at her mind, sinking into every corner, consuming her. Before she had been confident that Emrys would not be a problem, she would find him and kill him without a moments thought. This version of him was different. First of all he was visibly younger, although it was hard to tell how much through his unkempt appearance. Secondly, after his display of power on the field, she realized he could have killed her at any moment. No need for a grand fight, no need to pretend he's just an illusion, he could have ended her without a single word. He was holding back. He didn't want her dead. No. She forced the thought from her mind. Emrys was her enemy and would be the death of her if she wasn't careful.
She threw all of her attention into the spell at hand. Using the charred bone of a stag she drew runes on the floor. One after another until they formed a perfect circle mirroring that of the one in the book she'd glance back and forth between. She read over each one, ensuring she fully understood the meaning and purpose of each. The book's warning of uncertainty became clearer as she tried to piece together the full meaning of the spell. It was utter nonsense. Like the poem of a drunken knight who did not care for letters. Again, that did not matter. She could disbelieve the nonsense while still getting results. The only thing that truly mattered was saving all of Albion from the starving hands of a deranged sorcerer. She had worked too hard for too long and sacrificed too much to see the land destroyed before she managed to resurrect magic.
She gently placed her handkerchief, wet with the sweat from her dream, in the circle with a small saualpite gemstone and began chanting as she swayed. Five times she repeated the chant. When she finally opened her eyes magic flooded from her to the circle. The gemstone immediately devolved into ash, no fire required. and the handkerchief turned to water, washing the white ash of the stone over the different runes, clearly illuminating them. Morgana looked back at the book. Now what?
She read the spell over. It was far simpler than one might have thought, but she was beginning to think that it was due to its lack of completion. There would usually be a wall of text describing the immediate effects of the spell along with possible side effects. Here she found nothing. It simply ended with "Chant this five times." Morgana looked through the rest of the book for some sort of indication, anything the author may have snuck in the beginning about completing these spells. Again, nothing. Why Morgause would keep such a book was beyond her. Her elder sister had little need for books with such simplistic spells after receiving extensive training from the previous high priestesses. Yet here it was. To make herself feel a little better she labelled it "scribbling of a madman." That way she would never hastily try one of it's spells again. Right as she was placing it back on the shelf there was a knock at the door.
She rolled her eyes as she turned to go answer it. Agravaine was not being careful per usual, she really thought she had warned him enough to stay away for a bit. After the commotion in the valley of the fallen kings, followed by kidnapping the court physician Arthur was more likely to be suspicious of Agravaine's comings and goings. It had been less than a month since the latter incident, and less than two days since he last reported to her in person. Whatever he was breaking protocol for, it had better be good.
When she opened the door however, she was not met with the sight of her good for nothing uncle. Instead Gaius stood before her, arms raised with the back's of his hands facing towards her. She recognized the gesture of placation, but had never seen a sorcerer actually use it. Even so, Gaius must be desperate to show up willingly.
AN: Okay... So maybe I started one or two more fanfics. this one just came to me yesterday and I got excited. will probably be updating the ones with more interaction quicker, while I slowly work on the others. I'm planning to move "We Share the Dark" back into the vault while I work on that as I uploaded it in haste when I was having a bad day. That one is gonna take a while to write and I'd rather hammer it out first.
I'm obsessed with reviews so I'd love any and all opinions or theories on whats happening.
~Myrien.
