Merlin's door slid open with a creeeeak, interrupting Gaius's study.

The boy had gone to lie down early, complaining of a headache, as soon as Arthur had released him. It had seemed a little strange. Gaius put a finger down to mark where he'd been reading and looked up with surprise that quickly morphed into shock. "Merlin?"

Merlin was easing out of his room, only a shaking hand thrust against the wall keeping him upright. He ground out the words, "Something's coming. We have to warn Arthur."

"Are you feverish, my boy? You're pale as bedsheets."

"Listen to me!" Merlin brought a clenched fist to his mouth even as his whole body trembled. "Something is coming…something evil. I can feel it scraping in my mind. It knows I'm here. "

Gaius stood, looking concerned, but in the wrong way. That was his Merlin-is-being-unreasonably-hysterical look. "You've been having bad dreams quite often, Merlin. In fact, I'd say 'bad' is rather an understatement."

"Yes! Yes, exactly! What's been sending them is this…this thing!" Merlin froze as the castle gave an ominous shudder. "It can't be," Merlin whispered, meeting Gaius's shocked eyes. "It's here? It will destroy everything. We have to warn Arthur!"

"Come and sit down," Gaius said, crossing to Merlin and steadying him as he went down the stairs. In a moment, Merlin was settled on the bench, leaning his aching head forward to rest on the table. He may have groaned a little.

"There, there," Gaius said comfortingly. "Perhaps that was just the castle settling in for the cooler weather." Merlin lifted his head to give Gaius a panicked glare. "Oh very well." Gaius sighed. "I very much hope you are mistaken, Merlin, but something tells me that is the vain hope of an old man. I'll go talk with the king. You rest and concentrate on pulling your story together before he gets here. Somehow, I don't think Arthur is going to be impressed with a warning like, 'Something evil is coming,'" Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.

"I know," Merlin said, trying to ignore the way his stomach was churning and the horrifying sensation that something had befouled his mind. Gaius was right. He was going to have to convince Arthur that this was a real threat—that the entire castle needed to be evacuated. No mean feat given the fact that Merlin had nothing tangible to show the king.

All was quiet for a short stretch of time after Gaius left. Then the castle gave another shudder right under Merlin's feet and he suddenly understood that he'd made a major miscalculation. He should be the one evacuating. Merlin stood shakily. "Arthur can't come here. This is where it's—"

The floor heaved high enough to shove Merlin off his feet. He cried out, his hands snatching at the table, which was no longer where it should have been, but was in the air, pitching over on top of him. Before it could connect, something slammed into Merlin from the side—hard—stealing his breath and sending spears of pain through his chest, his arms, his legs. Then the wall went diagonal; the roof fell in and Merlin was jerked down into darkness and pressure and a tumbling rush of thuds and pain and screaming and then—nothing.

Nothing but an excruciating scraping in his mind.


Merlin woke with a start, jerking up, breathing hard, his heart pounding and a scream clogging his throat. His fists grasped at the blanket spread over him. Blanket?

He was in bed. In his room. Which looked normal. Not…whatever he'd been expecting. Had it been a dream? That was the only explanation—he'd had another bloody, horrible dream about something evil calling him and luring him to his death.

Merlin lay back with a sigh, feeling his frantic heartbeat return to normal. Already, the horror of it was fading from his mind. What remained was a vague dread that seemed ridiculous in the light of day. He was no longer a child and had faced down many fearsome things since coming to Camelot. And beaten them, too.

Merlin threw off the bedclothes and enjoyed a good stretch before rolling off his bed. Scratching idly at his back, rumpling the soft fabric of his nightshirt, he padded over to the window. It was a beautiful, sunny day—not a cloud in the sky. He beamed, feeling once again that inordinate connection that he had to the sun and to light, something that even his mother had been unable to explain. Sunny days seemed recharge his outlook just as much as sleep did his body, though he had no idea why. Perhaps it came with being a "creature of magic."

Cheered, Merlin got ready for the day, putting on a freshly washed blue tunic and the purple neckerchief that Gwen had given him on his last birthday. She had said that purple was his color. Merlin hummed as he headed out to greet Gaius. He grabbed a few bites of breakfast, forcing himself despite the energy that thrummed through his veins and nearly catapulted him out the door.

"I'm just not hungry, Gaius," he insisted as the man nagged him. "I can barely even think I feel so full."

"Full? Full of what, I simply have to ask?" Gaius goaded him. "Not full of good sense, that's obvious."

Merlin grinned, opening his mouth to retort before pausing at a sudden weakness in his chest. The discomfort grew to a genuine pain and Merlin pressed a hand to his sternum.

" Merlin?"

He looked up and the pain faded. "I'm fine," he said with a smile, "but I won't be if I don't get a royal breakfast for the royal pain waiting."

Gaius harrumphed at him and turned away, which Merlin translated as Don't scare me like that.

"See you later, Gaius!" Merlin felt guilty; it seemed like he was always making Gaius worry.

Minutes later, Merlin was taking Arthur's tray up the last flight of stairs when the pain overtook him again, causing a brief stop. "Oh bother Arthur and his breakfast!" If Merlin could just rest for two seconds and not have to worry about that prat of a prince who—

"Good morning, sire," he said as he pushed into the room, amending his rant midstride before getting himself into trouble. Something white flew at him and he only just managed to move the tray to the side before the whole breakfast ended up on the floor. "And to think I've just hauled that up three flights of stairs! You know, some people might be grateful for such a grand breakfast." By the end, Merlin had modulated his tone a bit, but a book still came flying at him next.

Merlin straightened his back in indignation. "Well, then. Maybe I'll just take your food back downstairs and give it to someone who is properly thankful for it!"

He only made it a few steps before a groan and a miserable, "Merlin, stop—please," made him pause. "My head is killing me. I feel like there's an axe lodged in my skull."

"And for some reason, you feel the need to take it out on me?"

"Yes! Owdon't make me shout," Arthur whispered. "I need food and water and medicine. Please?"

Instantly concerned at the Prince's tone, Merlin hurried to the table, setting the tray down before he remembered to be quiet. "Oh, sorry," he whispered.

Arthur groaned. Merlin brought the water pitcher and a goblet over to the bed. The prince sat up in bed, grimacing. "So what brought this on, sire? Too much wine late at night?" Merlin poured, careful to watch lest he spill any on the royal sheets.

"I did not have too much wine. MERLIN! WAKE UP!"

Merlin jolted back from the bed, staring at Arthur. "There's no need to yell."

"YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, MERLIN! WAKE UP!"

Merlin froze, trembling. Arthur's mouth wasn't matching his words. His face was relaxed, his hand outstretched for the goblet, eyes just beginning to register worry. But the words Merlin had heard: those words had been screamed from a distance, not spoken from two feet away. What was happening?

A flash of darkness cut into his vision: bodies, falling and twisting through streams of light, screaming, rocks tumbling over them as they fell.

Then he was back in Arthur's chambers, swaying in the bright peace and quiet, watching Arthur climb to his feet, looking anxious now.

And well he should, because Merlin couldn't hear whatever words Arthur was saying. Instead, he heard gravel crunching, voices moaning and water dripping.

"MERLIN!"

Merlin whipped his head around, hands over his ears, searching for something in Arthur's room that would explain the sounds. Echoes were coming from everywhere and nowhere. Everywhere water was dripping… dripping…dripping…and someone was screaming…


With a rush of noise and terror and agony, Merlin woke, gasping for air in blank darkness. Pain screamed through his body. A pungent odor of moist earth and decay filled his sinuses. He struggled for breath. Something was gripping his chest—something strong and sinuous, slick, and long enough to wrap around his arms and his legs as well. He fought to free himself. But despite his strongest effort, Merlin couldn't move more than an inch in any direction.

Arthur.

If Merlin could trust his muddled head, the king was here somewhere, had been yelling something. He needed light. Merlin twisted, trying in vain to raise one hand to focus his sluggish magic. Instantly, the bands of pain looped about him squeezed tighter and the deep, throbbing agony dug in deep. Then, he was moving. The ground was sliding by underneath and it took him a moment to realize that whatever had him was dragging him slowly, feet-first , toward some place he was sure he did not want to go.

Merlin shuddered in agony and misery, magic beginning to leak out, forming a faint blue orb of light over him.

"MERLIN?"

Something roared and Merlin felt an echo in his mind—a scraping, a desperate scrabbling in his thoughts. His magic excited it. The creature was old—old and evil—and it had come for him.

Merlin's blue light winked out and the world reduced to hot flashes of pain, terror and dragging, scrabblings against his mind and long, undying arches of agony.

Finally, he gave in.


Merlin was outside, in the fresh air of early morning.

Which took him by surprise. He raised a hand to his chest, pressing against the bone there, trying to ease the tightness that had been creeping up on him. He'd been able to hide it from Gaius most of the time, but now it was starting to worry him. How could perform his duties when it was so hard to breathe?

Now, Merlin said to himself, trying to be business-like, no dawdling. Gaius sent you here with specific instructions and you must follow them to the letter.

But there was a lightness in the air and a lovely smell and all that sunshine and he kept forgetting about his instructions. They seemed unimportant; actually, everything did. Once in a while, he would blink and find himself lying back on the grass, thinking about nothing in particular and staring up at the sky. It was peaceful and eased the ache in his chest, something he felt an increasing need to do.

When the sun finally reached its apex high overhead, growing hotter by the second, Merlin rolled to his feet and found himself dizzy. He giggled at the way his feet tripped over themselves, but stopped when he hit the ground, hard. The pain took his breath.

There was a roaring in his ears and a rush of darkness and pain—


"Merlin, answer me!"

Arthur?

Merlin struggled to raise his head. There was light now, spilling down from gaping holes in the cavern's ceiling. The creature had pulled him into an enormous cavern, strewn with sections of fallen rock and debris. There had been a battle. Patches of light scattered across bodies in chain mail lying motionless on the ground.

Merlin gasped. There, at the bottom of the side wall was Arthur, pinned on his stomach by a rock slide which had covered part of his back and legs. He had lifted himself up on one arm and was frantically using the other to try and pull himself free.

Merlin's breathing grew harsh in his ears. When had all this happened?

Arthur gave up and turned toward him. "MERLIN! I can't get to you! You have to fight it!"

Merlin grunted in pain and fought desperately to get one arm free—just one arm. Pain speared through him, again stealing his breath. His eyes rolled back as Arthur kept yelling.

"NO! LET HIM GO! MERLIN!"

Somehow, Merlin held on to consciousness. He was cold and growing colder, numbness spreading through his body. Whatever was holding his chest so tight had worked itself up under his head, pressing his neck forward as it crushed him. His sleepshirt was rucked up under his shoulders, pinned there by the constant, slow dragging. They moved at a constant crawl.

Trembling, desperate, Merlin dug his heels into the ground and twisted, forcing enough space to jerk one arm free. His mouth opened in a silent scream when the flesh of his arm caught and then tore before finally ripping loose. Merlin panted through the pain.

"That's it, Merlin! Keep trying!"

Merlin's free arm flailed as he grabbed in panic at the rubbery, wet thing—things—around his body. Tentacles? They were slick with his blood, digging in somehow, forcing him on his side with a biting pain that stole his breath and sent black spots crowding into his vision.

Merlin lost a few minutes. When his eyes cleared again, the light in the cavern seemed brighter. He had been pulled closer to Arthur now. The prince was pale and dirty, bruised and bloody from an unseen injury. A tentacle squirmed its way over Merlin's shoulder, almost blocking Arthur from view and Merlin grasped at it with his free hand. The tentacle tightened, sliding up against his neck. "Arthur?" he tried to say, and failing, he threw a hand out in Arthur's direction.

"I can't help you." Arthur cursed with vehemence. "You have to do something, Merlin! For god's sake, use your magic!" Merlin grew still and Arthur seemed to sense his panic. "Yes, I know about your magic. Don't you remember? Why do you think I'm still alive? You protected me. Now use your magic and save yourself. Quick—before it takes you under again."

Merlin tried to force away the panic and focus. But as soon as his eyes began to glow, there were skitterings of something in his mind and he jerked. Fiery darts of pain ran along the inside of his head.

The creature roared, filling the cave with its fury and crushing Merlin in its grip. Merlin's magic was leeched away along with his breath, drowned to the sounds of Arthur's voice, yelling.


He sat up in bed with a gasp, sweating, his breathing harsh in the dark room. Nighttime. His bed. Yes. Merlin's hand crept up to his chest and pressed at the pain there. It was sharp enough to propel him to his feet.

"Merlin!" a voice was calling to him in his head, something large and powerful and …uncomfortable.

"No, Kilgarrah, not now," Merlin muttered. The dragon had been far too chatty lately and Merlin just wanted to get some sleep. Or, wait—was he thinking straight? Hadn't Kilgarrah already been set free?

Then…who was calling him?

"It's getting worse."

Merlin whirled, freezing in place when he saw the vision at his open door. It was a boy—a boy with Arthur's features. There was the same imperious tilt to his head and a slowly dying arrogance in his eyes, but this Arthur looked ten years younger than the Arthur that Merlin had first met all those years ago.

"It's going to kill you, Merlin." The blue eyes grew wide and frightened, in a way that Merlin knew was completely alien to Arthur. "You have to fight it."

Merlin moved closer, reaching out to the boy. "I'm fine, Arthur. I'm right here."

"No you're not!" Arthur yelled, stamping his foot, tears filling his eyes only briefly before being wiped away by a quick hand. "Don't you remember? The Ciarcrôin felt your magic. It slipped into the caverns beneath the castle and reached up to grab you. The castle is in shreds—and it wants your magic, Merlin!" Arthur darted forward and grasped Merlin's arm. "Are you listening to me?"

Merlin wanted to give him a big hug. He knelt and looked at him kindly. "Arthur, I'll be fine. That thing can't kill me."

"I know! But it doesn't want to kill you! It wants to take you back to its cave and drain you of your magic—for however long it takes. And who knows how long that will be? Do you even know?"

Merlin felt himself grow pale and he shook his head. He shouldn't be having this conversation with a child, or with Arthur at all. Nothing was making any sense. The pain in his chest flared.

"Don't listen to him, Merlin." Merlin looked up to see Gaius at the doorway.

Little Arthur gasped and began to back away. The old man stepped into the room and suddenly, night switched to day. Bright sunlight poured into the window, soothing Merlin's pain. Gaius stared at the boy. "Arthur isn't himself today. Are you, my prince?" Arthur jerked away as Gaius reached out to him, then darted out the door. "Young scamp. I think his father is looking for him."

There was a strangled scream from the other room and Gaius looked pleased. "Ah. He found him. Now, Merlin, you are due for a day off."

"But what about Arthur?"

Gaius moved to block Merlin from looking through the door. "He's fine. He's with his father. Boys should always be with their fathers." Gaius's expression radiated peace, and despite himself, the worry in Merlin's chest loosened. A boy should be with his smiled. "As I was saying, you need a day off. Go outside the castle walls and pick some daisies. You know the sunlight always makes you feel better."

"I know. I already tried that," Merlin muttered uneasily. "It didn't work. The pain found me anyway."

"Hmmph. Well, at least get dressed. I have a feeling someone will be along to see you this morning. Someone you've been dying to see." A strange smile passed over Gaius's face as he turned to leave the room.

Merlin considered disobeying, but it made no sense to hide in his room all day. He needed to go and check on Arthur, anyway.

Merlin dressed quickly and ran a hand distractedly through his hair, hissing as he brushed a sore spot on the side of his head. Where did that come from? He poked at it, disturbed to realize he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. And it really hurt. He wandered over to the window, wondering. The sunshine, completely out of synch with his mood, brightened until he winced and turned away.

It took a few moments for his vision to return to normal. When it did, Merlin froze. There was a girl standing in his room. She had her back to him, a familiar girl with a long, black waterfall of hair. He sucked in a breath, hesitating, sure that she would disappear, or worse—would turn around and be someone else. "Freya?" he breathed. She didn't respond, keeping perfectly still.

Merlin moved then, treading lightly across the room and holding up one hand to touch her…hesitating at the last second.

Slowly, so slowly, she turned and Merlin gasped. This was the dearest face in the world to him, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. But how? Merlin's mind stumbled as it tried to comprehend.

"Freya, how are you here? I don't understand."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. "Magic, Merlin. Do you really think that someone as powerful as you couldn't find a way to bring me back? It took some time, but here I am. Real, alive and here with you."

Merlin's hand trembled as he reached out to touch her hair, sliding his fingers through it as he'd never gotten a chance to do before she had died. She was clean and warm, rosy-cheeked and healthy, looking like royalty in a dark blue dress as fancy as any Gwen wore as queen.

"But this—"

"It's a gift, Merlin. Don't ask for more." Her hands slid up his arms, holding him gently. "Just…kiss me again, please. I've waited for so long." He slid his arms around her, feeling that gentle ache finally, exquisitely filled. She turned her face up to his, almost blinding him with her beauty. He'd forgotten how lovely she was—the perfect arch of her brows, the luminous, dark eyes, the straight and perfect nose and the lips…

He closed his eyes and leaned forward to claim her.

Sudden pain made him pause; her hands were squeezing his arms like bands of steel. He sucked in an acrid breath and snapped his eyes open, jerking back in horror. Freya's skin was mottled green, her beautiful eyes dripped blood and her gaping mouth nearly split her face in two. She spoke to him in his mind, her words drenched in foul desire and aching need.

I've waited for so long, Merlin, sooooo loooooooong.

She leaned forward, her mouth stretching open wide, her foul breath spilling over him. And he saw it in his mind: she wanted to tear him apart, devour his flesh and suck the magic from every hidden place.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold and he slammed one hand to her forehead. But instead of strength flowing into him and forcing her away, there was a horrible sucking feeling. His magic grew weaker. Merlin's head fell back and darkness rushed in to drown his fear in agony.


A/N: Okay, I'm really nervous. How was that? Did I do all right? Please review and let me know!

One more part to go... will be up later tonight! mua ha ha ha...