Author's Note: Sorry for the wait again. I've been working 7 days a week on average so I'm kind of burned out on everything right now... But I'm determined to try to finish this fan fiction soon so it's my goal to write a chapter every 1-2 days. We'll see how well that goes... Sorry for the short chapter. I really wanted to update. Thank you for reading!


-Thirty -

Dying Magic

Merlin could feel the tree's pain as they stood in the caves at the edge of the lake. It was withering away and the world outside pressed in around it, forcing it to retreat further into itself. The worst part was that he could do nothing to stop it. It was beyond his magic which was humming weakly in response to the tree. Ryll looked lost, and he knew her own magic had not returned to her. Perhaps there was not enough left to give. In a way he felt a kindred spirit to the tree. He'd felt so alone all those years in a world where he'd once again had to hide his magic. At times he'd nearly forgotten who he was, what he could do. What was the purpose of possessing such power if he lived in a world where he didn't need it? He knew exactly what this magic tree was feeling because it did feel. It was just as much alive and conscious as them. He felt the sudden need to lay a hand on its trunk, feel the dying bark beneath his palm.

"We should get closer," Ryll said, voicing his desires. "If I had my magic…" She let the words hang, but Byron moved forward and reached out a hand. The water of the lake stirred like boiling water and then parted in a straight line to the tree. Merlin was the first to set foot on the bottom of the lake, moving past the magicked waves. The water was dark and had an endless depth to it that spoke of despair. Merlin felt himself being dragged under though the water did not touch him. As they neared the tree, he could hear a humming sound resonating from it. He turned to see if the others could hear it, but they weren't even looking at the tree. The humming grew louder and louder until all other noise died out. They had reached the tree now, and Merlin leaned forward, eager to make contact with the tree. He thought he felt Ryll trying to pull him away, but he did not heed her. His need to touch the tree was too strong as if it was pulling him to it like a magnet.

His fingertips touched the peeling bark, then his palm. He pressed it flat, the rough surface scratching his skin. He blinked and the world went dark.

The world was a blur and it was like floating under the surface of water. Merlin realized he was looking down at water. Once the surface stopped shuddering, he could see his own reflection. He looked haggard and worn, his eyes hollow. A voice from behind startled him, and he jumped, wheeling around.

"Why did you toss it in there again?" Arthur stood there questioning Merlin.

"Sorry, what?" Merlin was confused. Arthur wasn't in the caves. Come to think of it, neither was he anymore. He looked around him, his confusion increasing. He turned and looked out at the lake. "We're at Avalon," he stated.

"Uh, yeah, it's where you said you dropped the sword," Arthur told him.

"The sword? You mean Excalibur?" Merlin turned back to the king. Only Arthur looked younger, more like a prince. He didn't wear his usual armor either. He was dressed in plain clothes and a brown cloak.

"I haven't got time for games, Merlin. If we're going to stage an invasion we need to do it now. My father gains power and followers every day." Arthur looked off into the distance toward where Camelot lay.

Merlin just blinked at him. Arthur sighed. "Why do you look so confounded?" he asked.

"I just…just a memory blip," Merlin said. "I'm sorry, but can you clarify everything you just said?"

Arthur sighed. "Maybe Morgana has the patience to explain it to you, because I don't." He turned away and Merlin saw another familiar face. Morgana stood holding the reins to their horses. She looked younger too, less tormented, more innocent. She smiled at Merlin, and he saw no hint of hatred there. He walked toward her, and she rolled her eyes toward Arthur.

"He's just impatient and conflicted," she said.

"This is going to sound crazy, but I have no idea what year it is or what's happening," Merlin said. "I just…it's like I just arrived here."

Morgana looked at him with concern, but didn't question him. "Uther has declared war on magic," she told him. "Again. Arthur stood up to him though. After you told him you had magic–"

"I told him I had magic?" Merlin asked.

"You really have forgotten. Yes, well, you saved his life and it would have been impossible to deny. Unfortunately Uther saw too. A lot of people did. A lot of people feared you while others were thankful for what you did. Uther tried to have you executed, but Arthur intervened. Camelot was split down the middle. Sympathizers and persecutors. Uther's been hunting down those with magic, mercilessly executing them. We've got a lot of supporters – enough to try to take Camelot."

"Where's Ryll?" Merlin looked around for her. She'd be here. He knew she would be a sympathizer.

When Morgana didn't answer, he turned back to look at her. The tears in her eyes made his heart stop. "You really don't remember?" Her voice was soft, hardly even a whisper.

"Where is she?" He didn't want to hear her answer. He wanted to go back to the caves and pull his hand away from the trunk of the tree. None of this was real. Right? It felt real though, especially when Morgana spoke again.

"She was the first to defend you," she told Merlin gently. "She stopped Uther from killing you, but…she didn't make it."

"He killed her?" He choked the words out. He needed to hear it.

Morgana nodded wordlessly. "I'm so sorry, Merlin. That was what drove Arthur over the line. That was months ago now."

Months. "I have no memory of that," Merlin told her. "If I can't remember then it means it isn't real. Right?" His voice lacked conviction.

"People can block bad memories," Morgana told him. "You could have used magic to forget."

"I would never forget. I would never let myself." This was a vision. It had to be. He remembered touching the tree, feeling its magic, and then…then this. Why would the tree show him this though? This wasn't the past. This wasn't the future. What was this nightmare? Was Ryll to always end up dying for him? How was that fair? It was cruel. This vision was cruel. He began to hate the tree, hate its magic even if his own came from it. He pinched his leg but he wouldn't wake up. Morgana gazed at him in concern.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked.

"Once I wake up, I will be," he said.

"This isn't a nightmare. I wish it were. I really do. Miss her too."

Merlin turned away from her sympathy. This wasn't the first time he'd lost her. It was different for him.

"We need to find the sword and move out," Arthur said. His eyes were soft, but his tone urgent.

Merlin turned to face the waters of Avalon. "Swilte Excalibur!" he shouted, holding out a hand. The water stayed placid for a moment and then trembled as the legendary sword flew out and into Merlin's outstretched hand. Cold water dripped down his hand. He turned and held out the sword to Arthur.

Arthur took it with reverence. "Tonight we take Camelot," he said. "Tonight we avenge Ryll." He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Tonight, my friend, we change the future."

"Merlin! Merlin!" Ryll was shaking Merlin's shoulder, trying to get him to wake from the trance he'd fallen under as soon as his hand had touched the magical tree. "He won't wake!" she said, turning to Byron.

"I can't hold this spell much longer," he said. The water was starting to slosh against its constraints. Ryll climbed up the roots next to Merlin.

"Let it go," she told Byron when he was safely on dry ground. He released the lake and it flooded back into place, trapping them with the tree. She turned to face it and found that it looked monstrous up close with its peeling bark and dying leaves. Red oozed from some branches. It looked diseased. One of the pink petals drifted down to Ryll's shoulder, turning to ash when it hit her. She brushed it off, turning back to Merlin.

"Please wake up," she said, taking his arm and trying to pull it from the bark of the tree. His hand wouldn't budge though as if it were glued to the tree. Merlin's eyes were wide open and she could see something reflected there. "I don't like this place," she told Byron. "Why are we here?"

"I think it wants to show us something," Byron said. "I can hear its whispers."

"Don't touch it," Ryll hissed, snatching Byron's hand.

"I wasn't going to," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "But I think you should."

"What? Why?" Ryll shrunk away from the tree. "I think it wants to harm us."

"It doesn't want to harm us. It wants our help and–" He paused as if listening. "It wants to help you get your magic back."

"But how?" Magic was dying. What if it didn't have enough to give her? She didn't feel worthy of such a gift.

"You need to trust it," Byron told her, gently pulling her closer. "I know you're afraid but I can hear it. It speaks to my elemental magic."

"What is it showing Merlin?"

"A test," Byron said after a pause. "Morgana too. There's a test first, a trial to see if you're pure of heart."

"Are you going to touch it too?" Ryll asked, feeling like a child.

Byron was shaking his head. "I'm not one of the chosen ones," he told her. "You, Merlin, and Morgana are. It's chosen you. I'm just a messenger. I know you're scared, but I'll be right here. I won't let anything happen to you."

Ryll nodded, turning toward the tree. There was nothing to be afraid of. Byron gave her a reassuring smile and Ryll reached out one trembling hand, the other still gripping his, and touched the tree. Her spine went stiff and her eyes clouded as another image reeled in her vision. She woke up in agony.