Thanks for all the supportive reviews! Sorry my updates are sporadic. I'm trying to keep them within two weeks, but real life must come first.

The pair made quick time through the forest, leaves crunching underfoot. Arthur followed Merlin who seemed to be walking aimlessly, jerking his head this way and that, occasionally shifting directions.

"We must be getting close," Merlin grimaced and rubbed his forehead.

Arthur batted branches out of his way, "Remind me again why we're going toward the voice of the person whose destiny it is to kill me?"

"Whose destiny it was to kill you," Merlin corrected, shooting Arthur a quick smirk before turning serious. "We need to know how Mordred is calling me," he continued, tilting his head to the right before changing their path again, "Mordred died at Camlann, so whatever is bringing him back from the dead, it's not good. We have to stop it."

Arthur snorted as he stepped over a log, "Of course we do."

"Don't worry, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he climbed up a steep hill, bracing his ascent with his hands, "I'll protect you..." he chuckled, "like I always do."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the tease. As Merlin disappeared over the top, he raised his voice, "I don't need saving, Merlin, I'm not a girl like you!" He prepared for a surly retort as he traversed the top of the hill, but when he saw Merlin, all expectations of lighthearted banter vanished. Merlin had stopped and was standing stiff, staring ahead, eyes narrowed and wary.

"We're here."

The tree line broke in a circle around them. Four stone structures, no taller than Merlin, stood upright in a square configuration connected by an uneven stone floor. Vines had overgrown everywhere and various parts had crumbled in time, but markings from the Old Religion could still be made out along the sides of the structures.

[Emrys…]

Arthur jumped into a crouch. "What was that?" he asked, scanning their surroundings.

Merlin spun to him, "You heard it that time?"

[Emrys!]

"Is that the call you've been hearing?" still unnerved, but not seeing anything out of the ordinary, Arthur straightened his stance and looked to Merlin, watching him for signs of how to handle the situation.

"It must be stronger now that we're at the source," Merlin guessed, turning back to the structures. There was an eerie air about the place. Although midday in summer, a cold breeze encircled them. Merlin stared ahead, brows furrowed in determination, watching the structures as if he expected something to happen, something he had to steel himself for.

A question gnawed at Arthur, "Who's Emrys?"

Before Merlin could answer, the brush around them rustled and hooded figures emerged from behind the trees. Their clothes appeared tattered and their faces solemn, but Arthur brandished his sword in warning nonetheless. Merlin, however, remained steadfast, even as one figure broke away from the others and approached them. The figure reached up and pulled back his hood revealing an older man with white hair. Arthur recognized him as the druid that had handed him the cup of life. For a moment, the man and Merlin appeared only to stare at each other. Then Merlin spoke.

"It's ok, he knows about my magic now," Merlin gestured in Arthur's direction, "you can speak aloud."

"As you wish, Emrys," the man nodded at Merlin who returned the gesture.

The man held himself with a steadiness that comes from wisdom, though there was tension in his shoulders not unlike the constant weight Arthur carried as King. The other druids remained at a distance, so Arthur assessed there was no threat here. He slid his sword back into its sheath.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Arthur addressed the man.

The man fixed Arthur with an intense gaze, "My name is Iseldir. I am here for the same reason you are here, Arthur Pendragon: to assist Emrys with the call."

"You heard it too," Merlin stated.

Iseldir nodded, "As druid chieftain, I was trained to keep an open mind…" he surveyed Arthur with a pensive look, "in more ways than one."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Merlin saw Arthur's shoulders tense.

[Emrys...] All three men straightened and looked between one another.

Merlin began a tirade of questions, "What is this place? Why is Mordred calling to me? How is this possible?"

With a calming smile, Iseldir raised his arm in a guiding motion toward the woods, "Come, join us at our camp and I will answer all your questions to the best of my ability."

The three of them sat around a campfire along the edge of the clearing, warm bowls of watery soup in hand. The small band of druids had removed their hoods and most now meandered around the makeshift camp, collecting firewood and herbs and setting up small shelters. None of them talked, at least not aloud.

Arthur brought the bowl to his lips, keeping a wary eye on the druids. They may not be a threat, but he was clearly uncomfortable being surrounded and outnumbered. It also bothered him that he seemed the one most in the dark about everything that was happening. As King, he was usually the one most informed. Best to start with the basics then.

"Why do you call Merlin 'Emrys'?"

Iseldir glanced at Merlin as if asking permission to speak. When Merlin nodded, he began.

"Emrys is the name from an ancient druid prophecy," the fire reflected in his eyes, giving him an ethereal look as he disclosed the deepest truth of his people, "He is the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived, destined to unite old and new magic, to help the Once and Future King build a new world, a land of peace and prosperity for all…the land of Albion."

Arthur stared at Iseldir. Then he stared at Merlin. Merlin intensely stared at his soup.

"Hmm," Arthur finally uttered, clearing his throat, "well, don't think this gets you out of polishing my armor." He sipped nonchalantly from his bowl. Merlin chuckled and Arthur saw his friend's shoulders relax.

Merlin let the soup warm his hands as he looked up at Iseldir and began his own questioning again, "What is this place?"

Iseldir's face was solemn, "The Shrine of Repentance," he explained, "is a sacred place where druids who have strayed from our teachings come to seek redemption," he glanced at Arthur as he elaborated, "We teach peace and knowledge, but in the face of violence…" his face fell as if haunted by memories, "it is hard to stay that course, especially for the young."

Guilt racked Arthur at these words. He was reminded of the spirit of the druid boy from the well and felt the need to reiterate that promise now. Meeting Iseldir's eyes, he mustered his most kingly voice.

"I am sorry for all the pain caused by my father, by me," shame surged through him, but he forced himself to remain composed, "I cannot right the wrong that has been done to your people, but I can promise, as King, I am doing everything in my power to give all druids the respect they deserve."

Iseldir read the sincerity on Arthur's face and bowed his head with a small smile.

Merlin observed the interaction, a quiet pride blooming in his chest. But he allowed only a brief reflection on these words; there were more urgent matters to discuss.

"How is Mordred able to communicate from beyond the veil?"

With a sigh, Iseldir faced him again, "I don't know. The Shrine was built for those seeking redemption in this life. It is not meant for the dead." Slowly, his eyes went wide.

"What? What is it?" Merlin pressed.

"It is a new moon tonight. A time of new beginnings. The Shrine's power is strongest now, but even so, for a soul to call to the living without a ritual…" Iseldir shook his head, "be warned, Emrys. I fear something has upset the balance of magic in the world."

Merlin took in Iseldir's words. He had a sinking feeling he knew what that something was. A moment of contemplation passed between them before Iseldir continued.

"If this spirit is calling to you from the Shrine of Repentance, it is my belief it seeks forgiveness for a wrong committed against you."

Merlin's features tensed. Arthur thought he saw the fire burn brighter for an instance.

At Merlin's obvious distress, Arthur explained, "Mordred was a trusted friend," Arthur averted his eyes to the ground, "but he betrayed us. Because of him, we both had to make a great sacrifice." Arthur thought he felt the wind pick up.

Iseldir nodded at Arthur in understanding. "Then forgiveness will not be easy, but I urge you to try. It heals more than the soul that seeks it," he remained facing Arthur but his eyes flickered to Merlin. Wind whipped around them, ruffling their clothes and hair. Arthur suddenly realized the other druids had retreated into their shelters. Iseldir watched Merlin carefully. Something was happening. Arthur followed Iseldir's gaze and his heart quickened.

Merlin was scowling into his bowl. His knuckles were white from his hardened grip. Arthur saw the flames of the fire grow and flicker angrily. They seemed brighter. Then Arthur realized the fire wasn't brighter; their surroundings were darker. Storm clouds had formed overhead. The air, the fire, the sky…everything matched the deepening emotion apparent in Merlin. Arthur had thought he could never be afraid of his friend. Arthur had never seen him like this.

"Merlin?" he ventured, "Merlin, are you alright?"

Merlin pursed his lips and muttered under his breath. Arthur had to strain to hear him.

"Never?" Arthur repeated, "Never what?"

Merlin let out a laugh, but it was strangled, twisted with emotion. Arthur's throat clenched. "Forgiveness?" the wind was blowing hard now, shaking the trees, making Arthur shiver, "Forgive Mordred?" Forest debris lifted off the ground and whirled about them. "After what he did to you?" Merlin snapped his head up and Arthur gasped. His eyes were pure gold, but also a torrent of anger and despair. His face constricted in turmoil, his voice lined with malice, "Never."

Arthur stared at his friend, eyes wide. He didn't know what to do. Surely Merlin wasn't serious? If anyone had the heart for forgiveness, it was Merlin. Wasn't it?

"Emrys," Iseldir, who had been watching Merlin intently, now spoke softly, "do you realize you're using magic?"

Instantly, the anger drained from Merlin, replaced with worrying realization. He took a steadying breath. Blue returned to his eyes. The wind died down. Debris fell to the ground. The sky cleared. The fire returned to a normal crackling. It was as if nothing had happened. Arthur looked between them, confused, "Wait, you mean…Merlin, you didn't know you were doing magic?" Merlin shook his head, shutting his eyes tight, like he was fighting against something inside himself.

Desperate for answers, Arthur turned to Iseldir, "What is going on?" he demanded.

Iseldir regarded him in all seriousness, "There is a rift at the Shrine. That must be how the soul is calling to the living. Magic is leaking out from the world beyond, causing an imbalance. I have felt it too, though, I imagine, not as strongly as Emrys," he looked at Merlin with concern.

Arthur tried to understand, he did, but matters of magic were still foreign to him. Iseldir seemed to instinctively understand this. He picked up an empty bowl and grabbed a ladle full of soup.

"Imagine this bowl as someone with magic," he demonstrated to Arthur as he poured a little soup in the bowl. Arthur nodded that he was following the example so far. "The magic coming from the rift will add to this power," he filled the bowl half full. A familiar sense of dread was forming in Arthur's stomach. "But Emrys already has great power," Iseldir continued, filling the bowl completely and dipping the ladle back in the cauldron to pull out more soup. "With the magic from the rift pouring into him…" he poured more soup into the already full bowl. It overflowed, splashing on the ground. Arthur paled.

"But...that means…" he turned to Merlin who was struggling to keep his breath steady. Merlin looked up at the fire and completed the thought that neither Iseldir or Arthur could finish, but all were thinking.

"I'm losing control of my magic."

It seemed ages before any of them dared move. The forest was silent around them as if nature itself was wary of setting Merlin off again. Only the heavy sounds of their breathing pierced the tremulous calm. After a time of peering cautiously at Merlin, Arthur braced himself to break the silence.

He spoke quietly, "Surely there's – there must be a way to fix this rift."

"The only way," Iseldir said, keeping his eyes locked on Merlin, "is to grant the soul the forgiveness it seeks." After a breath, he looked between Merlin and Arthur, "But it must be true forgiveness or the spirit will sense the falsehood and the rift could remain permanent." A heavy pause conveyed the severity of that outcome.

Iseldir continued, "We can perform the ritual necessary to communicate with the spirit, but it must be done when the Shrine's power is at full strength, at midnight." He turned to Merlin, "You must be ready, Emrys."

Merlin looked up. Whatever he had been struggling with seemed to be under control again. Arthur let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Merlin sighed and stood to leave.

"I – I need to clear my head," he seemed tired as he turned and started walking toward the woods. Arthur stood to follow him.

"Let him be, Arthur Pendragon," Iseldir said, pity in his voice, "he needs time to sort through his thoughts," he turned to Arthur with determination, "and there is more you and I must discuss."

With one last look after Merlin, Arthur returned to his seat.