This chapter is sort of a gap filler.

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"So you're saying that this is the night it started to change? The knights' behaviour, that is?" the Grim Reaper asked curiously. The fire flickered lively as he threw another bone onto it, and Merlin watched as it strangely made the fire grow high in the fireplace. The light from the fire lightened some of Death's dark figure, but Merlin was still unable to see his face. If he had one.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, not by much, but this is when it started," he said quietly and controlled, dipping his head slightly.

"But how could you know if you were asleep for most of this?" Death asked, confused. Merlin nodded again, looking at the fire.

"I sensed strong, powerful and evil magic," he explained, not looking at Death. Death nodded.

"So, what really happened then?" Tom Scythe asked, truly interested. Merlin turned his head to look at the man that claimed the souls of the dead and determined their fate in the afterlife. Half of the young Warlock's face was well lit by the hot fire that sniggered so outrageously at him for falling into Death's clutches. The other was painted by shadows that represented the cold side of the boy that was locked up inside of him and held deep down, only rarely was it allowed to show itself upon its master's pale face.

"The tides turned, things changed," Merlin paused and smiled quite devilishly, earning a place in hell. "I wasn't there to save them from themselves."

Percival walked back to the camp and chucked a load of fresh firewood onto the raging fire. The wood crackled as white ashes flew into the air and the fresh wood caught alight. Percival nodded at the inhuman flames that flickered and danced, and mocked him in how carefree they could be. Sighing, he started to clean up the bones of the rabbit that they had managed to catch and eat for their dinner. It wasn't much and everyone was still hungry, but they had been able to share Merlin's portion between them as the young boy refused to eat anything. Letting a bone accidently slip through his hand and then trying to catch it, Percival dropped everything he was holding. The bones fell onto the floor, many into the fire. Sighing once again, Percival started to know what it was like to be Merlin.

"Bloke head," Gwaine sniggered from behind him on his right. None of the other knight's had heard Gwaine's unfriendly comment, but Percival sure did.

"What's that meant to mean?" asked the giant knight in a calm but rough voice that made him seem tougher and meaner than he really was. Gwaine looked down, as if he didn't have an explanation for his mean words. Percival nodded and started to throw the rest of the bones in the fire.

He had made Gwaine feel small. It wasn't hard to tell. He'd always accidently done that. He'd always looked big and muscular, tall for his age and when the other boys used to make fun of him, he'd always made them feel small against him and so they'd back off. He'd never had true friends. There was no one ever there for him. Merlin coughed violently from where he lay by Lancelot. He shuddered, showing how cold he was and he clung to Arthur's clock.

"Why do you keep watching him like that?" Lancelot asked Percival, their conversation only heard by Gwaine, as Arthur was deep in thought and Elyan and Leon were talking among themselves.

"He's fascinating... Nothing seems to get him down, he's quite dumb Arthur says, but he's... so wise for his age... Some think he's just a serving boy but... it's almost as if he's destined for more," the strong knight explained staring at Merlin, staring deep down inside the boy, deep into his soul and reaching out to help him and understand what drove the boy to carrying on with his life.

Lancelot and Gwaine just started to snigger violently, and it caught the attention of the others.

"That's a good one Percival that really is. Ha! Merlin, destined for something greater!" Gwaine said and the everyone was in stitches. Arthur roared with laughter.

"Good God! What drove you to think that nonsense?" the Prince asked, trying to stop laughing but ended up snorting like a pig, causing them all to laugh more. "Merlin? Destined? Destined to marry the stocks more like! He's a useless serving boy that accidently landed himself his job!" Arthur roared out, and Percival noticed a frown appear across Leon and Lancelot's faces. They were not blind in seeing that Arthur thought of Merlin (in an odd way) as a friend and they had their moments of criticizing one another, but this was beyond what he usually did.

The laughter died and no one questioned Arthur's words.

Time rolled on and the knights took watch, two sleeping and Lancelot left by Merlin's side to make sure he didn't die in the night. Staring deep into the dancing flames of the deathly fire, Lancelot couldn't help but be hypnotised by its dance that moved like no human. As the flames danced, Lancelot started to be able to hear the sweet and soft singing of an angelic voice of a beautiful woman. Feeling sleepy, the knight rubbed his eyes and continued to be consumed by the flames mystical dance. He smiled as he thought for a second he saw figures moving within the flames and knew that he was becoming excessively tired. However, he was unable to draw his eyes away from the fire. The figures danced across the fire's flames, hypnotising Lancelot even more. They were mainly men, but one was a woman, and even at Lancelot distance away from the fire, he could see that it was Guinevere.

She swayed and danced in the warm glow of the fire. The dance sped up and Guinevere slowly started to disappear. More people danced around the fire. Squinting, Lancelot could see that they were not dancing, but fighting. Thinking that he could hear the screams of the people, Lancelot was paralyzed and could do nothing but watch the fire people kill one another. Lancelot was able to hear the flow of his blood pumping in his ears. The battle raged, people killed and people died. Feeling the rage of those people, Lancelot gripped the end of his sword, ready to pull it, ready to kill.

Merlin coughed violently and brought Lancelot back to his senses.

The knight looked at his friend then back at the fire, to see nothing but the moving flames. Calming down, Lancelot checked how his friend was doing. Merlin's temperature was high and cold sweat rolled down his forehead. He shivered and then coughed again. His eyes fluttered. Lancelot lifted his head and tried to get him to drink some water. Merlin gulped down what his friend had. His eyes continued to flutter.

Lancelot' sword started to rattle. Merlin's eyes flickered faster, his once blue eyes turned gold. The sword started to move out of its cover. Panicking Lancelot looked round to see if anyone else was looking.

"Merlin stop that... Stop... Stop, please!" Lancelot hissed and the sword drew from its cover and started to hover. Merlin's body shook violently as he started to choke on air. He was panicking; the boy didn't know what was happening. Lancelot started to hush Merlin, tried to calm him as his own sword started to float higher and higher, half-inch-by-half-inch.

Lancelot grabbed his sword and tried to push it down.

"Hush, Merlin, Arthur's fine, we all are." Lancelot must have said the magic words, as Merlin started to calm down and Lancelot's sword dropped to the ground. Sighing in relief, Lancelot leaned back against the tree. Before sleep claimed him, he saw Leon and Elyan starting to have an argument.

The Remotas flower swayed in the cool wind under the graceful, but ritual moon. The old ruined castle, with no roof, was the home of many dead humans. Ghosts of the past sung in the night, whispering in the wind, foretelling the evil yet to come, yet to happen. The Remotas's crimson red leaves represented the gushes of blood that over the many years had stained the fresh green grass around its roots.

The lake behind the ruined castle was still, reflecting the moon's rays off its surface. The wind carried the ghost's whispers across the lake, moving the still water. Usually the water would move eastwards, but this time the tides moved the water to the west.

The tides turned, another group of victims were coming, and the ghosts were unable to do anything to save the travellers who travelled in search of the Remotas flower. The flower that cured death, but had never saved one life.

Who wants Death to have more moments in this story?

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