At 8 pm, Jim rose from the bed. He had got his full 40 minutes of sleep, and then spent the rest of the night holding Claire as she slept. At one point, she had begun to shake and whimper in a nightmare. He simply snuggled her closer, nuzzling her neck and kissed her cheek. Eventually she fell back to sleep and remained that way.

When he rose, she groaned and he tucked her in snuggly.

"It's dark out now, so I'm going to go see about that truck. I'm taking your phone. Just keep sleeping, okay?"

"Hmmm..." She hummed.

Though he had told her this, he still wrote a note, figuring she would remember little of what was said.

He dressed, poking holes in his hood for his horns, and made sure the maximum amount of skin was covered as possible. Then he took one key for the room and left.

Using the pictures Claire had taken, Jim was able to clumsily navigate his way back to the house. It was evening, of course, but people still milled around. Some people gave him sideways looks, but most didn't even notice.

An old man sat on the porch, smoking a cig.

Jim stood at the wire fence, nervous. "Uh, hello sir?"

"Evenin'," replied the old man.

"Is this your truck for sale?"

"Sure is," he said, dragging on his cig. "Who's askin'?"

"My name is Jim Lake Jr., sir. I'm interested."

"Why you look like a demon, boy?"

Jim swallowed, "sorry, I just came from the Horror Convention down at the Showboat Hotel."

The man switched his cig over to the other side of his mouth. "You got a license? How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm 16, sir. And yeah, I have my license right here." He took it from his wallet.

The man flicked his cig on the driveway and then made his way over to the fence. He took the license and studied it.

"From California, huh? What're you doing all the way here?"

Jim had been practicing his story, and came up with a pretty convincing half-truth. "My friends and I really like to hike, and we decided to hike our way over here for the horror convention. On the way, we found this really cool, big quartz, and we want to take it home. It's just too heavy for a wagon or wheelbarrow."

The man was quiet, thinking. "How heavy are we talkin'?"

"Like, a thousand pounds? It took four of us to lift it." He glanced at the vehicle. "Can that truck lift that?"

The old man chortled, "can she lift that?! Of course she can! Used to lift V16 engine blocks."

Jim smiled, assuming that was a good thing. "Um, if you don't mind me asking…why is it for sale? And only 2,000?"

The man walked over to the truck, patting it fondly. It looked a bit like Señor Uhl's Susanna. "Oh, she runs okay. She doesn't have a muffler, the air doesn't work, and neither does the radio. She shakes sometimes. Leaks oil sometimes, but she'll get you where you need to go." He frowned in Jim's general direction. "I slipped a disc a few months back and they fused my spine. I have a hard time gettin' in 'er these days. So my son convinced me to just use my wife's car…I'm too old to need this old thing anyways."

Jim looked at the man with pity.

"Do your parents know about this?"

"Well, they know what I'm up to, but they don't know I'm trying to purchase a truck."

"Call 'em. I ain't selling you anything until I know that I ain't gonna have to deal with this later."

"Oh, sure, right. Of course." Jim cleared his throat and took out Claire's phone, calling his mom.

"Hi Honey! How's the trip? Are you on your way back yet?"

"Not just yet, mom. By the way, you're on speaker. So you remember that costume contest we entered?"

"Costume contest?"

"Yeah, you know, the one I made the Troll costume for."

"Oh! Yes! Right, duh! How did it go?"

"I won first prize! 5,000 bucks!"

"Oh Jim! That's wonderful! I'm so happy to hear that!"

"So, second part...you know that quartz we found?"

"Yes?"

"Well, we were trying to figure out a way to carry it, and we found a truck that's 2,000 bucks. I'm talking to the owner right now, and he just wants to make sure it's approved by you."

"So you're driving back?"

"At least Claire and I. Not sure who else."

"Well, it's fine by me. It might be beneficial for your new job here, after all."

"My new job?"

"Construction, the market is going to need all the hands they can get."

"Oh, yeah! Good point."

The old man spoke, "excuse me, Mrs…?"

"Dr. Lake."

"Dr. Lake, so I have you expressed permission to sell my car over to your son?"

"Yes, that's fine. I give Jim permission to sign my name for me."

"He's got insurance?"

"Yes sir, he's covered."

"Alright," the man nodded. "That's all I wanted to know."

"Thank you," said Barbara, "for making sure he was safe."

"Well, my son did something like this back in the day, and I almost had a heart attack when he came home."

"Well, I'm sure I would have been more confused than anything. Thanks again!"

"Bye mom, love you."

"Bye kiddo!"

The man took out his own phone, a track phone, and dialed a number. "I'm calling my son, he said he'd help me with the paper work and all that."

"Oh I see." Jim nodded.

As the man chatted with his son, Jim sent a text over to Toby.

Dude I forgot to tell you, but we found the heartstone! It's kind of small, so we're bringing it back. We're going to see if it can revive the old heartstone.

The response was almost instant.

Claire?

No, it's Jim.

JIIIIIMMMMBBBBOOOOOOO! DDDUUUUDDDDEEEEE!

That's too many extra letters and exclamation points, Tobes.

I'M LITERALLY SCREAMING RIGHT NOW. ARRRGH IS CONCERNED. BUT I DONT CARE BECAUSE YOU'RE COMING HOME SOON!

Yep, and I'm working on getting a truck for the stone, so it might only be a week or so.

THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVERRR! At the end there was a string of emojis, featuring '100', fire, okay hand sign, crying face, and a trumpet.

I'm glad I texted. You probably would have screamed my ear off.

I can't help it! I'm just so excited! Then the phone vibrated as a long series of texts came from Toby.

Dude.

I totally forgot.

No.

I'm going to keep it a surprise.

Oh but it's so good.

You have no idea.

The greatest thing ever happened.

Did Darcy say yes when you proposed to her?

There was a pause.

The second greatest thing happened.

Jim sent a laughing emoji.

But I'm not telling you, because it's way to good to be true.

Alright, if you say so. I won't bug you about it, because I know how you crack under pressure.

Thanks man. Cause it is reaalllyyy great. And we'll start cleaning up Troll market. I mean, more than what we have.

At this point, the old man had finished his conversation with his son. "So," he began. "Troy is going to be a little bit. I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me with something in the meantime?"

"Oh, sure?"

"You got it? You sure?"

"Yeah, I got it. Where do you want it?" Jim had his arms full with a huge tube TV. The man said it hadn't worked in years and the Mrs. asked him to get rid of it. Problem was, it was a tad heavy.

The elder climbed the basement stairs at a snails pace, Jim standing behind him. He led him out the the road, and had him sit it out at the curb.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?"

With his troll strength, it was nothing. But had Jim been his old noodle self, he wouldn't have been able to lift it on his own. "Oh no, it was fine."

"I got something else, if you're up for it."

"Whatever you need." Jim replied with a smile.

Two bikes, a stereo system, and an hefty particle board cabinet. All without breaking a sweat.

"Alright, I think I've taken advantage of you enough for one day."

"Oh, it was no trouble at all."

The man grinned. Then he took out another cig and made his way over to sit on his porch. "So, that's not actually makeup, is it?"

Jim looked at him, wide eyed. "Um, I don't know—"

"Boy, you dead lifted a 250 pound television and carried it up a flight of stairs like it was nothing. Not to mention that cabinet! And at 16?"

"I…just workout a lot?"

The man wasn't buying it. He huffed smoke out. "Son, you should know not to lie to your elders."

It was New Jersey. What were the chances he was going to see this man again? "Alright, you got me. I'm not exactly human."

"Are ya a demon?"

"What? No, no, no." Jim waved his hands in front of him. "I'm a troll—er, half troll."

The man nodded, not saying much until finally. "Just as long as I ain't doin' business with the devil."

Despite the comfort of the bed, Claire was wracked with nightmares. It was so realistic and horrific, she didn't even know it was a nightmare at first.

Morgana played a significant role. The she-witch had Jim by the horns, and lifted him from the ground.

"You want him back, don't you? The boy you once knew. The human."

Claire shook her head. "No! No! Leave him alone!"

"Silly girl, I know your deepest thoughts. I will tear this gruesome, ugly shell away, and return what once was…"

It was inhumane. Morgana pulled at his horns, ripping him apart from the scalp. He screamed violently as blood trickled down his face and chest. His fingers curled into hooks as his skull came into view.

He continued to look at her with his bloodshot blue eyes. "Why Claire?! Why can't you just love me?!"

"I do! I do love you, Jim! I'm sorry!"

And just like that, she was in her living room, gasping for breath.

Everything was gray and dingy. Dust hung, suspended in the air. A strange woman with black hair and hunting green eyes sat on the couch, sipping tea.

"Ah, there you are darling. I wondered when we'd connect."

Claire swore she had never seen her before, but her voice…

"Who...are you?"

"Do you not recognize me? Oh, but I suppose you wouldn't, being that my armor is packed away. Little use for it here in the shadow realm."

"Wait, if we're in—then that means you're—"

"Morgan La Fey. It's nice to see you again, child."

"But—! How are you—?"

"You seemed surprised. After all, you only trapped me in here."

Claire paced. "This can't be happening! I pushed you out of my mind! You can't—this isn't real!"

"Of course it isn't." She answered simply. "This is happening inside your head. I'm not going to hurt you or any of your friends."

"Then why—?"

"Can't a poor, lonely, old witch have a decent conversation with someone?"

"The last time we talked, you possessed my body. I almost got killed!"

"All in the past! All in the past."

Not really, but Claire just glared at her.

"I'd actually like to thank you, Claire."

"Thank me?"

"Yes. You see, when Merlin trapped me, he put me in a stasis so that I could stew in my anger. I built so much up that once I was free, it consumed me. Now that I'm here in my own vast and beautiful world, where Merlin can't hurt me, I find peace in my soul."

That was befuddling. "But...you're evil?"

The woman smiled. "Is that what Merlin told you?"

"I mean, yeah. But you also possessed my body and tried to kill my boyfriend...as well as plunge the world into darkness, and you nearly destroyed my home."

"Well, when you say it like that." Morgan set her tea on the coffee table and leaned back in her seat, "may I tell my side of the story?"

Claire relaxed a tad, and fell into the seat opposite of Morgana.

"Have you heard of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round table?"

"Of course, who hasn't?"

"Arthur was my brother."

"And…Merlin trained him, right?"

"More like, Merlin thrust him into a role he was not prepared for. Much like your beloved Trollhunter. Arthur was just a child when he was chosen to be king, likewise, I was a young woman when I apprenticed under Merlin."

Claire leaned forward a bit, now ridiculously curious.

"My brother did a great many things in his life, as the legends all tell. But he met an early end, and I buried him. Merlin was nowhere to be found. When I returned, my brother's sword had been taken and melted down and Merlin declared that I was the last ingredient in a concoction that would help the world. I was still grieving the loss of my brother at the time, and paid little attention to his inane ideas. While I slept, he cut off my hand." She held up her emerald prosthetic. "Never given a choice. I didn't even know what that potion was. My master betrayed me."

Clear sadness held Morgan's face as she stared at her hand. Claire witnessed this, and felt the sadness in herself. Then she shook her head, and told herself that this was Morgana, the mistress of Shadows.

Morgan clenched her fist. "I was beyond angry. And I turned to the Gum-Gums as a means to my retribution. I promised Gunmar the Black, an appalling and dense creature, a way to create night eternal. And then I blessed him with the Decimaar blade, a sword that could strip the freewill of any living being. For a great many years, we waged war against the humans and Merlin's Trollhunters. Until Deya the Deliverer cast Gunmar into the Killahead bridge, and Merlin froze me within the Heartstone."

Claire looked down at her feet, feeling guilty, since she felt pity for this evil witch.

"I tell you this, because I want you to know…I was once good. I was like you, pure in heart, full of love for my little brother and a dashing boy. But Merlin corrupted me. It was innocent enough at first…teaching me spells…helping me in my rose garden…then he turned my focus to him and his honeyed words. I fell in love with him."

That was unexpected. "But he's so…"

"Old? He wasn't always. I aged better than he did." Morgan picked up her tea and sipped again. "He taught me everything he knew, pushing past the limitations of morality, and into dark magic. I wanted to impress him. But the more I studied, the more he rebuked me. Love turned into jealousy, then bitterness, and then burning hatred. I stewed in my hatred for years, centuries, until nothing but cruelness and malice remained. That is what you saw when you fought me and banished me here."

Claire sat up, clenching her fists in her lap. "It's only been a month since then, for all I know—"

"Time works differently in here." Morgan clarified. "You should know. What may have been a month out on the surface world, may have been years in here."

"But you spent centuries in stasis…"

Morgan smiled. "Now you're catching on. This realm…is my own creation." In a grand gesture with her hands, the room stretched and transformed, turning into windows with stone walls. A temple remained when all was said and done.

"Wow…"

"And as such, I can make of it as I wish. I am queen here, and all powerful. Once you destroyed my Skathe-Hrün, it was like a bucket of water crashed upon my heart. My rage, my hatred…it vanished. I was left with this…emptiness. But as time went on, the realization that I would never see Merlin again sunk in, and I felt lighter. I started to feel like my old self. My soul has been stained, that is undeniable. I have done evil things, but I think I can still do good."

"Like what?"

"I would like to mentor you, in the cosmic arts."

It was almost sudden. Jim, true, human Jim leaned in the front door, and met her eyes. He spoke softly. "It's dark out now, so I'm going to go see about that truck. I'm taking your phone. Just keep sleeping, okay?"

At his voice, the world went hazy for a moment as she responded with a hum that echoed in the room.

"You see," said Morgan. "You're still sleeping in your hotel room. I promise not to hold you too long. Though you can wake up, when you want to."

Claire shook her head in disbelief. "Why…why me?"

"Because you wielded my Skathe-Hrün. You and I were connected, briefly. And even now, in your darkest nightmares, I can find you. Because you appear here, in the shadow realm." The room began to shrink back down to the living room it was before. "And, as I said before, you remind me of myself, before I fell."

Claire stared at the woman, studying her. She seemed calm and collected, no ounce of violence in her stature.

"Merlin is a jerk…" she finally said.

"That he is." Morgan replied. "Which is the other reason I am reaching out to you. Even if you turn down my offer, I beg you…don't follow in Merlin's footsteps. He's selfish and pig-headed. He thinks he can do no wrong, and cares little for his actions."

Claire remembered his attitude toward Jim's transformation. He never once apologized for it, and expected everyone to thank him for turning him into, what is essentially, a monster.

"I see within you, the need to do good. So I can teach you healing spells, illusion spells, say nothing of necromancy and soul trapping. I will teach you what you need to know to help you're Trollhunter."

Claire furrowed her brows. She did like the idea of helping Jim.

"I still don't know…"

Morgana raised to her feet, and came over to Claire, gently touching her cheek. "I understand your reservations. Take time to decide."

"I'm still trying to figure out why. Why do you want to do this?"

Morgan shrugged, a truly defeated look on her face. "Would you believe that I'm bored?"

Claire said nothing.

"Incudo. It means 'to forge'. With it, you can mend something of metal back together. Whether it be armor, or a sword, or what ever. Speak it backwards, Oducni, and you will undo a forged piece." Morgan walked back to her chair. "There, I leave you with a simple spell. It can be deadly, if used cunningly. Or harmless. It's up to you. Now, it's getting late. You should awake."

And once again, Claire was gasping for breath. But this time, she was alone in her hotel room.