He admires the winter wonderland around him. Icicle trees extending into the grey sky. Even with the clouds blocking out the sun, the snow beneath him still manages to glimmer like thousands of tiny diamonds in the light. His feet don't sink into the snow, and the world has a blurry edge to it, and he struck with a simple fact. He's dreaming.

He smiles, looking down at his body. No longer a boy but instead his long, limber limbs greeting him. Familiar and comforting. He laughs, dashing over to the frozen ice to see what he already knows. A long face that matured with age, hollowing his cheeks and bringing the sharpness of his cheeks and nose. Black cropped hair falling an inch above his eyebrows and large, elephant ears that fit better with his adult face.

Yet he pauses, reaching to touch the edge of his lid with an angled limb. His usual blue eyes were now only ringed on the outside with blue, the center completely encompassing around his pupil with the color of liquid gold. Constantly swirling, but fading into the rest of the blue. He blinks, but the color stays.

A crunch snaps his head away from his reflection toward the sound. A gasp, and an instinctual leaping sideways. He avoids the large tree crushing him just in time for him to see the tree crack the ice and tumble into unknown depths.

Another crack scares him away, and after a second of confusion, he's scrambling to the window of his room. He shivers, his breath coming in a gust of steam. The frost threatened to climb deep into bury itself in his body, despite a roaring fire at the edge of his room.

Outside he could hardly see past the food storage built into the side of the black rocks, holding steady under the raging wind. The same wind that shook the frames of the makeshift thatch-brick houses. They held steady until the heaviness of snow and wind destroys a house, unheard in the roaring wind.

He runs as fast as he can outside. He slides on top of some ice, but that doesn't stop his momentum to get to the house. The snow numbs his fingers and face, the tumble melting the snow into ice on his body. The wind howled across his already frostbitten ears.

He finds the house quickly, passing by houses that disappear in the fog. The magic inside him bubbles, curling and thumping with the beat of his heart. Yet when he reaches out to lift the house, it fizzles out at his fingertips.

Desperately, he launches himself on top, gripping his way through the clutter for purchase against something, anything. Merlin slips, and yells, irritated. For a beat, he wonders why no one is coming -cursing his small body and lack of strength- then screams.

"Help! Please! There are people under here!"

He hopes that they can hear him over the wind, but no one comes. Futility, he begins ripping away smaller bricks that he can reach. One brick he throws collapses he house even more, and he stops. Trembling, and icicles on lashes. He feels so helpless.

He gasps, twitching violently at the touch on his shoulder. It's only Aglain, tensely clutching and calmly speaking. "-it's alright. Help is here." A stone gets levitated by his head, and he sees several others carefully levitating debris out of the way as most scour the rubble for the family.

Too many emotions wash over him at once. He can't panic now, others would need to be removed from their homes. He breathes once -shoving down his feelings into numbness- and gets to his feet once more. Merlin shouts to be heard. "How did you find me?"

He frowns, muttering a spell under his breath. Merlin wants to sigh in relief as warmth spreads over him. "My Grandma had woken me to tell me of these events, but by the time we had ourselves prepared it had been too late."

Merlin grimaces. "We can still recover the bodies, and save those who are left." Then he looks to the crumbled house. A dozen volunteers using a mixture of magic and heavy lifting carefully remove pieces, calling to see if anyone's conscious. "Are these all who volunteered?"

"We would have had more, but we ran out of time."

"I'll go back to organize another party. Split this group into two. We need to cover as much ground as possible. I trust you to find your way back to the Castle?"

"Go Emrys. We'll do everything we can to bring everyone home safe."

He nods and scurries away. The snow was getting thicker now, making it harder to see what's in front of him. If he didn't know this place like the back of his hand, he would be worried about getting lost.

It felt like hours, trudging thought the white dust. Each door that appeared was frantically knocked, and when he got no response, he went inside to drag the families out of their beds. The trudge began, it already eating part of his ankles. The thick bedsheets they had taken with them did it's best to shelter them from the frost.

Merlin watched them help each other, their magic users doing there best to keep up the warming spell. With only mild, distant, horror did he know that it wouldn't be enough. Some of the elderly in his group had already grown blue. A few children had a glazed over look in their eyes, stumbling along.

Then, an older man fell. The girl supporting him cried out, going down with him. "Dad, please! We can keep going. We're nearly there!" Hysteria trembled in her features, and he came over to try to do something- Anything at all. The magic fizzled out on his fingertips.

She stared at him with wide eyes, the tears freezing halfway down her face. Everyone was looking at him now. Maybe they were just as scared as he was. "We have to keep going, the castle isn't far from here. Can you stand?"

No matter how hard he tried, the man wasn't able to get back to his feet. They didn't have time for this. More people would be lost if they didn't get warm soon. Indecision tore at him. If they tried to carry him, they would have to slow down to keep everyone warm enough. A few minutes more, and he fears they might lose the children.

"We have to leave him." Hollow sobs filled the air, and her eyes pleaded for him to have a miracle. He looked away first and her wails of despair could be heard being choked down.

Carefully, she settled him in the snow, cradling him in her lap as if the world didn't exist anymore. He made himself peer at their faces. The way they smiled weakly at each other and forgave each other in that moment. He turned politely as they argued quietly. Then she stood, defeated.

Nothing more was needed to be said as the group moved forward. They had barely made it inside the castle. It was far warmer inside than it was outside, but there was still a chill in the air. Like you could never truly escape it.

Inside was chaotic. Many huddled together near roaring fires, as hundreds of Wobilnocks scattered about doing various jobs: Feeding fires with wood, serving food, or handing out warmer clothes that they had found.

His group quickly dispersed, searching for their own families. Yet he could see several people grieving and that many faces were no longer here. The worst part of it all was that he was still fine. The threat of frostbite had never even begun for him.

He finds Aglain sitting on the floor next to his grandmother, who looks far older and frail than she once was. It wasn't the time to ask this right now, so he sought out Iseldir who he found in the corner, far from the rest. As Merlin approached, his graveled words stopped him in his tracks.

"There are… consequences to magic. An exchange of equals when the price becomes too high. A life for a life. Power for corruption. Bounty's of food for the coldest winter of all." Iseldir moved from his slumped position, meeting his gaze. "I had been so blinded. I should have known a price would have been paid, but I had been so eager for protection to realize the cost."

Merlin can only stare with a silent ache. "If I had known-" He raises a hand and he quiets.

"We all had been blinded, Emrys. Now we must move on."

It was too quiet then. Anyone who spoke did in whispers, settling down for the rest of the day. He sat down by his side, glancing over the people who were still on this floor. As he was about to ask a question, Iseldir voice rings clear as a bell in his mind. 'You may have lived many years Emrys, but I fear there is much more you do not wish to speak of. Or maybe, things that you cannot speak of. I do understand but at some point, they will tear you apart. All I ask is that you find someone to confide in before it does.'

Merlin says nothing, and the other doesn't force conversation. Occasional moans of grief broke the silence that hung over everyone's heads like a cloud.

Frustration bubbled inside of him. He had thousands of times. He had found people who cared for him and loved him despite who he was. They listened to his stories and his agony and it all never mattered in the end. It still didn't, if today's events were any indication.

During the decades that passed, he had been brutally injured. Can't count how many times he's died and been forced to breathe once again. Or how many times he's lost an arm only to wake to find it never missing.

Merlin sighed. That didn't matter. He didn't matter right now. Even if he did talk about how he felt, it would change nothing. Actions now where the only thing that would help anyone. As he left, he knew a sad look was being thrown at him, but he had to see if everyone was doing alright and was accounted for.

Unfortunately, he had found his friend Algain, sitting next to his grandmother. His gut turned. What could have happened? It didn't look like she was effected by the cold -with no blue lips insight- yet all the color was drained from her skin. Carefully as he sat down, he watched his friend for any visible change. Yet he only held her hand and stared into the distance.

"What happened." He whispered.

"My grandmother is very sick. Each vision now drains her with age. She has taught us so much, and lead us to safety when the land rain of blood and gold. The red clokes taking our lives without a thought. Maybe she thought herself a coward when she ran with us, but we've survived until now. As far as the druids know, the last of the seers."

"Seers?"

His voice softened to a rumble. "A gift from the three-headed goddess, usually given to women because of their close connection. Most have visions of the future. The best of them can control when they see, and some even what they see. Few can see visions of the past, linked to an item or a place. Emotions can be a confuser sometimes."

"So, she was the best of you?"

He nods, exhausted by his dialogue. "But with age, or even repression of the visions can be dangerous. It is not a gift anyone can refuse, at any rate. With age, the visions require more magic than women her age has. I'm surprised she's lived as long as she has."

Merlin's hands twitch in his lap, wanting to bring some comfort in the quiet. Yet he merely stays, being a supporter by being next to him.

The weather finally changed after a bit, but not in the best way. The snow came down in sheets, and block their first story doors completely. They only exist. The dwarfs came and apologized to him, telling him that if they had spent the whole winter building, they would have completed the castle to make it larger.

He addresses them from below. "It's alright. We have all made mistakes this year. The storm is not one anyone can predict, but we will have the entire spring, summer, and fall to prepare us for what comes."

They nod, carefully. Merlin smiles and they guide themselves out of the room. He feels ill from all the responsibility in front of him. Yet, he stuffs the feelings down as he goes back to his friend's side. Respectfully keeping his distance from the woman closest to the fire. His grandmother.

In his mind, it felt like this man was so young to him. Just barely the age of twenty and having to take over his mom's role as a protector of the community. His mom played a special role in keeping everyone safe by her visions. The strongest ones in her sleep, and as far as the druid community knew and heck, even the dwarfs, the last of her kind.

Yet eventually, he had to leave. His friend hardly acknowledged him as he left. Many of the sick had been moved to the warmest room in the castle, which was the floor right with his room. After everyone had been counted and recounted to make sure he wasn't mistaken, only 542 people were left alive. As the day went on, a few of the sicker ones died.

He knew there was more. There used to be more, but anyone that was still left outside had surely died by this point. There wasn't too much they could do for the dead with the weather, so they carefully wrapped them and settled them into a room. They deserved a proper burial.

When night came and the snow was still coming down as hard as it was before, everyone settled down in wait for the morning. He hid in his room, staring down at his hands. It made no sense as to why his magic didn't work. Shakily, he attempts to warm his hands. Hot white flames burst from his palms and it somehow hurts to stamp the flow of magic to get it to stop.

All that time when he trained meant nothing. Now, he was even farther back from controlling his magic. The one certainty that it at least worked now was now gone. How could he protect anyone now?

When the light came back, the clouds still stayed. The temperature was well below freezing, but the snow had stopped. They had to wait longer before they could rebuild once again. The days of waiting stretched far longer than they had anticipated. Days turned to months, but It wasn't safe for anyone to be out longer than an hour, so no one could leave. They needed the sun to come out. It made people irritable, being in such close quarters all the time.

The death and stress around him only made him numb. He could not manage to be more sympathetic to the grieving families, even if he knew he should have been comforting all of them. He was just so tired. Then thanked him in some way for giving them a better life despite everything, and the guilt festered. He couldn't help but know that he hasn't done enough. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The nightmares that plagued him were nonsensical, and he could never remember what they were about when he woke in the morning. Just a general sense of unease following him through the day.

He made up for it by creating plans to prevent this from ever happening again. Preventive measures for houses and for ways people can stay warm when it became too cold. They would need to make thicker clothes, and shelter the animals properly. The list of plans was endless, but he was distracted from the unhappiness that scratched. Several millennia of grief yawned in his stomach as if disturbed. The same pain that made him stay deep in a cave underground for a while.

He froze at his counsel desk, trembling as the memories crashed over him.

It was a chilly winter. Yet Merlin didn't attempt to count how many times he's ventured into the cold to hunt for food. Digging in the dirt for sleeping animals to give to his friend. When he returned, dragging a surprisingly large bundle of animals behind him in a net into a cave.

There was Killigarrah, withered and aged. Lying on his side, taking rigid breaths and settled next to several low set fires. Quickly he set to get the fires roaring again, before nudging his nose. "Come on, wakey-wakey."

The dragon groaned, opening one eyelid to look at him. Rumbling in greeting and lazily opening his mouth. Merlin chuckled. "Another one of those days huh?"

He dragged a bear into his large maw, the warm breath washing over him for a moment as he backed away and the teeth slammed down around the corpse. He forced a grin as he pats his snout.

Kiligarrah shifted, staring at him and keeping him in place with his tail. Merlin stiffened. He couldn't speak anymore, but they still could chat. 'Merlin.' Dread called up his spine. 'The end is fast approaching.'

The man sat down without seeing. "Not yet. I can't lose you too."

The dragon sighed, deeply through his nose on Merlin. He could feel the last dredges of magic wash over him.

'My last gift, and a warning.' Merlin could only stare with tired eyes as his friend took his last breaths to help him. 'Magic will no longer be in the air, or in the world. The last of us dragons are fading because of it. Not just here, but all over the world.'

The rigid man frowned, struggling to understand. So many questions, and the moment he finished, Kiligarrah lids slipped closed.

Something in him urging him to build a wall and get twine. Apparently a final gift from his old friend. Trembling, his finger guide him all on their own into making something he's never seen before.

A wall laying flat on the ground tightly woven together, with one singular thick branch supporting a thick cloth that waved in the wind. The frothing, cold sea awaiting him. Adventure a guarantee. So many different places to see.

Something in him urging him to build a wall and get twine. Apparently a final gift from his old friend. Trembling, his finger guide him all on their own into making something he's never seen before.

A wall laying flat on the ground tightly woven together, with one singular thick branch supporting a thick cloth that waved in the wind. The roaring of the sea greeting him as it slowly flowed on the sea before him. As adventure laid before him.

He couldn't do it. Trembling he shoves his boat into the cave Killagarah resides in. He runs across the beach to find another cave and run as deep into it as he could. He couldn't leave everything he knew behind. It was his whole world. Anything that was on the other side could wait. If he couldn't die, he would rather rot away with his memories.

So he found a corner of warm dirt and stayed. He can't recall how long it was, but he knows he's been a coward for longer than he's been comfortable to speak of.

"Merlin?" A quiet, warm voice speaks. Tears brim in his eyes as he glances away. He forces his squeaky teen voice to be steady. "Sorry." He pushes the chair back ready to hide in shame.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks to see the other man smiling at him kindly. "Do you wish to… talk about it?"

His gut twists at the thought, and he frantically shakes his head. He feels ill. Then, Aglain sits in the chair next to him.

Merlin feels a burning blush coming to his cheeks, so he ducks away to wipe at his tears. Oh no. He was kind of afraid of this. He forces his attention away to moving away to the door. "I will be back. I need to see how everyone's doing."

He ignores the saddened look that is surely being aimed at him as he slips away. His only solace being his room, in the night when it's quiet, and everyone's at rest. No one could disturb him in his recollections of eternal darkness and lack of sound, as he fell asleep.