There was a stunned silence throughout the room.

"What? Me?" Merlin gasped at last, his jaw dropping open.

"Merlin? They want Merlin to lead?" asked Arthur.

"I mean you don't have to say it like that."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, did you want to lead?"

"No, of course not, but you don't have to use that tone: 'Merlin'."

Iseldir interrupted before Arthur could respond: "It's not exactly Merlin. It is but it isn't. I'm afraid it's slightly more complicated than that. They want Emrys."

"I thought Merlin was Emrys? And why do you have two names anyways?" demanded Arthur, looking at Merlin. "It's just confusing."

"Do you know what Emrys means?" asked Iseldir.

"Err…Merlin?"

"It means 'immortal'. The druids that follow the Cult of Emrys believe that Emrys has always lived and always will live. They believe the power he holds is so great, so old, and so powerful that it can never truly die. That it returns him again and again. Each time death claims him he is simply born again. The cult is complicated and secret. I only know of it through rumors. But many of its followers do tend to be unhappy with Merlin, because they feel he should strike down the Pendragons."

"I've always thought that your problem, Merlin, was that you don't do enough striking down," said Arthur dryly.

"But if Merlin is Emrys," said Morgana, "if it's the same person, then…well there's nothing they can do, is there?"

"The cult's beliefs are very complicated; they see Merlin and Emrys as the same but separate. Essentially they believe Merlin has been corrupted by Camelot and the Pendragons," said Iseldir, with a heavy sigh. "Almost a diluted Emrys, if you would. They are very fanatical. The cult has been growing since Merlin arrived here and I have feared for some time they might attempt something rash."

"Rash doesn't sound good," said Lancelot. "What sort of rash?"

"I do not know. As I said: I know most of what I do through rumors. I've attempted to learn more but they are too aware that I am not sympathetic to their cause. But…there have been rumblings. Dark magic. Of what, I am not sure. But it worries me."

Merlin glanced towards Morgana. "What about what you saw? Is there something there that could help us?"

Iseldir glanced up at her. "What you saw?"

She shrugged, uncomfortable. "I have…dreams."

"Dreams?" A gleam of excitement entered his eyes. "You're a seer?"

"I don't know. Gaius thinks they're more than simply dreams."

"Seers are extremely rare. It is a powerful gift. A terrifying one at times, but one that should be cherished."

Morgana stared at him and felt….seen. "Thank you," she whispered.

"And what have you seen?"

"I don't know exactly. There was war. A great deal of war. And death. Fire. Lancelot…dying." Lancelot started and stared at her. But Iseldir was listening to her intently, giving her his entire focus, so she continued on. "Merlin was hurt and I was trying to get to get to him. There was a dragon. And I saw an orb. It had runes engraved upon it and it was silver blue. And then I saw Relveer. Only there was something strange about that image: it was so much clearer than everything else."

"An orb? Silver blue?"

"Yes."

"Does that description sound familiar?" asked Arthur.

Iseldir raised a hand and stood. "One moment." He hurried across to his traveling chest and kneeling in front of it, started to root through its contents, moving aside clothes and papers and several books, until he pulled out an old leather-bound volume. He laid it down on the table and began to flick through the pages. "Ah! Here it is." He turned it round so that the others could see it, and pointed at an elegantly illustrated picture. "Is this the orb you saw?"

Morgana moved closer. She was staring at a small orb that fitted neatly into the palm of a hand. It was a silver blue with intricate engraving all around, engravings so fine that surely it would be impossible for any craftsman without cracking the glass… "It was only a flash on an image but…yes. It looks exactly like it as far as I can tell."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's expression which had turned extremely grave. "What is it? What's so bad about this orb thing?"

"It is an Orb of Cronus…one the rarest magical artifacts there is."

"And why do you look like this is very bad news?"

"Time," said Iseldir simply, "because of time."

Arthur let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a huff of frustration. "Can you explain that to us laymen?"

"Time magic is one of the most difficult, or most impossible. To go back, to go forward, it's impossible. Unless you have the Orb of Cronus."

"So," said Lancelot, "you think this cult wants to…what? Go to some other time and find a version of Merlin, or rather Emrys, that they like?"

"No, no I think what they want to do is far more concerning. If Morgana's vision is accurate and they do plan to use an Orb of Cronus, then it is possible they could feel the time is now for Emrys to take control but they doubt Merlin's commitment."

"Well at least they got one thing right," muttered Merlin.

"They believe that Emrys has lived before and will live again. They could hope to replace Merlin with a previous or even a future incarnation of himself. Essentially pull another timeof his soul through time and force it into Merlin's body, replacing who he is now with who he once was or will be. And there is only one way they could do that."

"Why is there always at least one way," sighed Arthur. "Let me guess: it's with this orb thing?"

"It's not really a way. It's impossible. The magic involved and the sacrifice needed."

"What kind of sacrifice?"

"Another soul must be sacrificed."

"A soul?" Lancelot frowned.

"Yes. Not a life. Someone doesn't just die; their very soul is destroyed forever. No afterlife. No hell or heaven. No reincarnation. Whatever your beliefs for after death…it doesn't happen. Their soul is wiped away. And it must be willingly given. At least…that's the theory. I suppose no one can really prove it. Since you can't come back from death and say 'that soul, nope, definitely wasn't there'."

"Who would do something like this though? Potentially sacrifice their soul?" asked Merlin.

"Fanatics. Someone who so completely believes in one path, one future, they live and breathe their cause and only their cause. But even so…you would need very powerful magic. Not anyone could do it."

"Of the druids here, who could?"

"I don't. I can vouch for the fact I could, but never would. But we're talking a level of magic that is not often on display."

"All right," said Arthur. "But this orb. You say it's rare. Could any of them actually have it?"

Iseldir suddenly seemed to relax. "You're right. And that would be impossible. None of the druids could have brought it into the castle. I took precautions before we arrived. I ensured none of them, including myself, carried anything dangerous. And I know," he said, with a playful smile at Arthur, "although your father insured it was done in a very subtle and diplomatic way, that all our belongings were searched when we arrived. None of us could have smuggled in something so obviously magical."

For just one moment Arthur began to relax, and then he remember his earlier suspicions.

"What if they snuck it in afterwards?" he asked. "What if they used a distraction?"

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Lancelot's face. "Morgana's attack…"

Iseldir blinked. "You don't think…"

"That attack was never meant to kill Morgana," said Arthur, "so you have to wonder why anyone arranged it."

"If this is true," said Iseldir, his voice low and grave, "If someone in this castle does have the orb, then we are all in danger, but especially Merlin. I fear greatly for him if this plan is completed. I do not hold the same beliefs as the cult, and my interruption of the prophecies are far different. If they attempt to tear through time to bring to the present something, which as I believe, does not exist in the form they believe it does…I do not know what the results might be. Any magic that effects time must be treated with the upmost caution and care. The fact the cult would even attempt this…shows how truly insane and reckless they are."