Good morning! Today Saturday I bring Chapter 31. I'm sorry I didn't bring it sooner, I had lots of problems and things. Homework, studying, school work, personal problems... Lots of things, so I have to say I will only publish chapters at weekends, at least one each Saturday. I hope you understand, I don't like it either, but that's life. I think it has some good points like it would be more special having one or two chapters each weekend instead of one per day. Or at least I think so.

Well, nonetheless, I hope you like this chapter.

I'm not own from Merlin.

Morgana searched for hours as the sun slowly descended to the horizon. It was getting dark and she couldn't find Arthur or Gwen. Where were they? That was a good question; a question Morgana had asked herself during these hours of searching, without getting any answers.

Fortunately, his response was found as she reached the back of the village, where the rubble of the ancient black temple was located. At the time, that place seemed much scarier than it seemed in broad daylight. There were the blurry silhouettes of Arthur and Gwen in the dark, in front of that rubble, apparently observing them carefully.

Morgana literally ran to where they were, and it was to be a few feet away from them that Arthur, with his Knight of Camelot skills, pulled his sword out of the pod with a masterful turn and, before Morgana realized, the tip of the sword was rubbing her neck. When she swallowed, Morgana could notice the cold metal in her throat.

"Morgana!" exclaimed Arthur, apparently with some difficulty in seeing her face. "Where were you? Or, rather, where were you both?"

"Arthur, it's a long story and we don't have enough time, we have to get out of here and get to Ealdor as soon as possible," Morgana said once Arthur lowered his sword.

Arthur nodded decisively and without sarcasm.

"I think so. I don't like this place at all."

And so, the three hurriedly headed to Hilda's house, where Morgana claimed that Merlin was. Something told them they should leave, and fast.

Merlin was healed with some healing by Hilda's knotty hands. In a few seconds, he felt tremendously better. He didn't feel as weak as he had been minutes before. Apparently, what had happened in him (that still did not know what had been exactly) had weakened him, not physically, but psychologically and mentally. Luckily, Hilda wasn't exactly a bad healer.

"Hilda, where did you learn magic?" Merlin asked, recalling how she had cast out Sigan's shadow.

"From the druids," Hilda replied. "I spent a season with them once. But I don't know much. In fact, many times to do magic I need, as I did before, a bracelet."

They both talked as Hilda cured Merlin, without warning of the time that passed, impassive to what time was taking, and what gave way. They talked as if they had always met as if they always knew they were related. There was an irrefutable connection in them.

That's when Hilda looked at the window.

"Oh, my God!" cried Hilda.

Merlin, frightened, looked out the window waiting to see some type of monster, the Shadow of Sigan again, or a sea of lava. He lowered the alarm when he didn't see anything.

"What's going on?" asked Merlin, diverting his head from the window to Hilda, who seemed trapped by a dream, staring at the window with dreadful eyes.

"You must go," she said.

"What?"

"Now! You must leave now that you have time!" Hilda shouted as she got up and was on her way out of the room.

Merlin, confused by such a sudden change, followed Hilda blinded by confusion. What was going on? Was something wrong? Yes, apparently something was wrong, although Merlin did not know what was going on or why. Then he guessed it: it was almost night. Only a few dim rays of light loomed behind the mountains surrounding the valley. That couldn't mean anything good.

They left the house, meeting, fortunately, Morgana, Arthur, and Gwen. They headed to the exit of the village, a small stone gorge where the black stone columns with sharp engravings still flanked the exit, where the horses were still there, without warning of the problem. They still did not know what the danger was, but following Hilda's instructions, they quickly mounted on them. Merlin went to ride his horse when Hilda approached him.

"This will be my horse," Hilda said in a grave voice, very unusual of her. The little light there was did not show Hilda's face, which made her even more sinister. Merlin looked at her with confusion, with a silly question at the tip of her tongue. "Do as I say. You'll ride Morgana's horse, which has volunteered."

Merlin nodded unconvincedly and turned to the white horse where Morgana was already sitting in the rump. She looked at him and encouraged him to get on. Merlin hesitated to a point where he wondered if it wouldn't be better to run. It wasn't exactly like a servant sitting next to a noble woman.

"Come on, Merlin!" said Morgana, indicating the part of the rump behind her.

Seeing that they didn't have much time, Merlin climbed behind Morgana, pretending to think of nothing but that creepy, scary town at night. But it became impossible for him, for the smell that gave off Morgana (which was something like at the time to a smell of berries and a bit of a burnt caramel-like smell), to feel so close to her (he literally had his hands holding on to her so as not to fall) and the pulse his heart gave (he hoped Morgana could not notice his heart throbbing, being as close as they were) didn't help that much.

They spurred the horses and got out of there as fast as they could. Merlin turned his head back to make sure Hilda was following them, but seeing that she was gone, he tightened up and got really nervous. What was going on?

Part of the answer to his question came when he heard howls and roars not far from there, the same noises as the night before when they had headed to Telvar's cabin.

Merlin looked back and at that moment could not believe what he saw. Shadows. Flying shadows were heading where they were. Shadows with red eyes.

What did all that mean?

Merlin thought about getting off the horse and use his magic to ward off those shadows. He brazened the idea when he saw how fast they were going. He could see Arthur in front of them riding his horse and Gwen by his side. But what about Hilda? There was no sign of her.

They followed the gorge at a speed of vertigo, knowing that if they stopped for a second the red-eyed shadows would consume them as a spider makes with his prey. The air whipped their faces like knives, causing their eyes to moisten from the cold wind, creating blurry figures along the gorge. That looked like a scene drawn from a nightmare, for nothing seemed real or consistent.

Merlin could not stop looking back and to the sides, in case he saw Hilda riding the horse that had been his. Now that he thought about it, Hilda had been quite nervous since they had come out of the depths, and it made sense, because this town was not an ordinary one. It was the Cursed Town. And now Merlin understood it much better.

Merlin could not clearly discern the shadows that were chasing them, for it was basically full night, but he could hear an air-like sound tearing a garment in a sinister and abstract way, as from another world.

Merlin barely appreciated the stone walls guarding the gorge and trusted Morgana to know where she was going. He looked back and could only appreciate, or rather seemed to see, two red dots at the bottom of the gorge.

Howls and roars rang through the mountains, making it clear that they were not alone with shadows behind them. Merlin trembled, knowing it had nothing to do with the cold. He had never listened closely to those howls and roaring animals, which now seemed so real and consistent, nothing compared as he had always heard them. Now he understood the fear that all that could give.

Why had they gone there? Why had they gone to the Cursed Town, to the village that, as its name said, was cursed?

Merlin regretted coming here. In the end, what was the use of it? He had done nothing but have been possessed by a shadow, to have known Telvar's past in the village (which had not been exactly peaceful), to have known what the symbol of the Wodrem meant, to have known that Balinor was not clean wheat... for what? It didn't carry anything good.

Merlin wished he'd never gotten into trouble from his father's past. He wished he'd never heard his name.

Wow, Merlin regrets having heard his father's name... That's not going well. You will see hopefully tomorrow the next part of the chapter. What will happen? Will they finally arrive in Ealdor? And what will happen there? What's the importance of the Cursed Town here? And Hilda? And Telvar? And what will happen with Merlin's mood about his father?

I really hope you like it, and see you next time.

LegolasHV