Thomas sat a few paces from a roaring waterfall. He leaned back against the cave wall, his eyes moving back and forth in thought. Across from him, sound asleep, was Callum. The boy was curled up in a ball, a frown on his face, and his body quivering as he slept.

"This feels wrong." Thomas whispered, not taking his eyes off the kid. "It didn't feel wrong at first… it never felt right, but it didn't feel wrong either. Now? Now, I feel like I've fallen as low as Uther Pendragon. If I'm doing the right thing, why do I feel that way, Morgana?"

He heard the ghost shift beside him. He could smell her scent… it was like she was becoming more and more solid the longer she stayed with him.

"Don't regret what you did!" She warned, voice harsh. "Never regret giving Camelot what it deserves! They've killed thousands of our kind…" she snarled. "They killed your mother!"

"Yeah." Thomas agreed, swallowing back his doubt. "I know… but he didn't do anything." He nodded to Callum. "And I hate that I had to hurt him. He's a sweet kid."

"You didn't hurt him," Morgana pointed out. "Arthur did."

Yeah, right. Thomas cast her a sideways look. We both know that's a pretty twisted statement. Arthur didn't have any control over himself.

"You have a backwards way of looking at things, Morgana." He murmured, too tired to censor himself. The witch narrowed her eyes.

"What does that mean?" She hissed. Thomas just sighed, averting his eyes.

"I don't know." He mumbled. "I just mean… I've heard many stories about you, and you're not like I thought you would be." Morgana bristled, her eyes flashing. Thomas, not in the mood for a fight with a high priestess, even the spirit of one, changed the subject. "Where are we? You told me to bring him here, but why?"

Morgana eyed him a moment, before speaking.

"This place," she explained. "Is something I was told of while in the afterlife. It is called the Screaming Mountain by villagers who live down in the valley below it. This waterfall," she nodded to the running water across from them. "Filters out into a river. A river that supplies their village with water. But, it is said that, many years ago, a wizard cast a spell on this mountain… a spell that allows spirits of the dead to rise once again. To rise as mortals." Morgana's eyes darkened. "Of course, there is a sacrifice that is necessary for that to happen."

Thomas blinked.

"What?"

Morgana glared at him. She waved a hand over to Callum.

"Do you remember what the prophecy said?" She demanded. "The one that has you believing he is someone great?"

"It is said he was chosen by fate to destroy Arthur." Thomas blinked, puzzled. "Why-."

"Did you ever wonder why a magicless boy would have such a great destiny?" Morgana demanded. She leaned closer to him. "Let me tell you why that is. He is a descendant of the wizard who spelled this cave, so long ago. And when he cast that spell, he made it so that only his kin could use the power stashed within the waterfall… but to give a life-."

"You must take a life." Thomas echoed the words he'd heard all throughout his life. "But I don't understand-."

"The wizard made it so that, to bring someone back to life, a person, one of his descendants, must willingly give their life. Must spill their blood into the water. Only then, can a person of their choosing be brought back to life."

Thomas felt a cold dread wash over him.

She can't mean what I think she means. He thought, his stomach lurching.

"So… all this time…" Thomas swallowed. "You, and Wishlin, have only wanted the boy to change sides so that… so that he can slaughter himself?"

Morgana held his horrified gaze, her own cold as ice.

"It has to be that way." She said simply. "He is the only living descendant of the wizard. Only his blood will activate this place. His willing sacrifice will lead to my return, and Arthur's downfall."

"He's a child!" Thomas cried out, his heart pounding. "I can't… I can't allow him to-."

"You will," Morgana said, her voice a low snarl. "Because if you don't, you will lose everything you've been working to achieve."

"If I do," Thomas snarled back, jumping to his feet. "I might as well start wearing the Camelot crest, because I'll be as bad as them. You told me to let him suffer… and I agreed. But I will not stand here and allow him to die! There has to be a better way!"

"There is no other way." A cold breeze drifted in from beyond the waterfall, bringing an even colder voice with it. Thomas jerked his head towards the sound. He watched as a familiar person appeared in front of the waterfall, her eyes dark and her tone serious.

"Wishlin." He let out a breath. "Did you know? Did you know he'd have to… to die?"

"All great rewards," the witch murmured. "Come with great sacrifices. I'm sorry, Thomas. But this is the only way to make sure the destiny that we desire is the one that comes to pass." She smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. "You've done well. I came as soon as your message flew in with the raven…" the witch came closer. "You did your job… Now, I will do mine. I will convince the chosen one of why he must give his life here."

"Wishlin." Thomas struggled to speak, his voice tight. "This is… he's just a boy. He's done nothing wrong."

"I know." Wishlin soothed. "But he was born with blood that we need. And that blood must be spilled. You don't have to stay," she told him. "You've done your part. You can leave."

"I can't." Thomas shook his head, his chest tight. "If… if he really must die. I don't want him to be alone."

"Of course not." Wishlin purred. "I understand. But do not interfere, Thomas."

Do something! A voice in Thomas's head cried out. Don't let this happen!

"I won't." Thomas promised, his voice gruff with emotion. "I won't…"

"Oh, lord." Lucan Thunderrider groaned as Arthur slammed him against a tree, pressing a sword to his throat. "Listen, fella. I don't know anything about any ruby!"

"Then why'd you show such interest in the one we have down in the vaults?" Arthur growled, the hand holding the sword hilt trembling with anger… anger and fear.

I need to get to Callum, he thought, his heart twisting in his chest. I need to see him… and I need to tell him how sorry I am. I need him to know I didn't mean any of it. Lord… he has to know I didn't mean it.

"Because it sounded valuable!" Lucan, the peddler who Arthur had intercepted on his way to Camelot, shot back, annoyance clear in his features. "I've brought gold with me. You've got no justification for attacking me like this, King Arthur." He narrowed his eyes. "Thought you were supposed to be an honorable man?"

"Forget the ruby for now." Arthur heard Merlin growl behind him, where he and the knights sat on horseback. "Do you know Thomas Oak?"

A flash of something Arthur couldn't read spread across Lucan's eyes. Then, he shrugged.

"I know a lot of people. Most folks in my line of work do." He said, cryptically. "I know a lot of Thomas's."

"Uh huh." Arthur gritted his teeth. "Why don't we try that again." He pressed the sword harder against the man's throat, making sweat pop from his forehead and trickle down his face. "Do. you. know. Thomas. Oak? Better answer with the truth this time."

"Yeah." Lucan mumbled, his chest heaving. He was staring down his nose at the sword, terror etched in his face. "I know the guy. We grew up together."

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, exchanging a look with Merlin.

"Did he come to you?" Arthur demanded, whipping back to face the man. "Are you the one who supplied him with the ruby he used to spell me?"

"I don't-." Lucan made a gurgling noise in the back of his throat as Arthur put more weight against the blade. "Ok! Ok! Geez… I sold him a ruby."

"A spelled ruby?" Arthur growled.

"Yeah. Yeah." Lucan licked his lips. "I don't ask my customers why they buy the things they do. I sell. What happens after they buy my merchandise is their problem, not mine."

"That's a backhanded way of thinking." Leon murmured. Arthur nodded, his lip curled in disgust.

"What does it do?" He asked. "That ruby?"

Lucan gazed up at the dawn sky, as though hoping for help from above.

"It's called a Ruby of Animosity, or a Contempt Stone." He explained, his voice rigid. "It messes with your mind… makes you hate folks who you loved before. It's a pretty wicked little gem." The man gave a sideways smirk. "Valuable too."

What a miserable cockroach of a man, Arthur's disgust kicked up another notch.

"Where is he now?" Arthur snarled. "Where is Thomas?"

Lucan blinked.

"How should I know?" He protested. "Like I said, I don't ask questions. I just give people what they ask for. If you're looking for Thomas, I suggest you find the Druids."

"Why?" Merlin wanted to know. "Why would they know where-."

"Because," Lucan cut him off. He was wiggling in Arthur's grasp. "His Pa's the leader of that band. He might know where he is now. I don't."

The leader of the Druids? Arthur pulled away from Lucan, allowing the man to at last catch his breath. He shook his head in disbelief. That coward fooled us all.

"Where can I find the Druids?" Arthur asked. Lucan closed his eyes, letting out a sigh.

"You know where the Screaming Mountain is?" He muttered. Arthur shook his head. "Really? Oh, well. It's at the border of Odin's land. Ask someone there, and they'll sketch out a map for ya. The Druids travel up there once a year to honor the wizard who used to live in the mountain. His name was Melvin. It's said that, once a year, the gateway between our world and the afterlife is opened three… and that, with the right kind of blood, you can bring the dead back to life again."

"Kind of blood?" Arthur stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Lucan massaged his throat, where the sword had turned the skin red.

"The blood of Melvin's descendant."