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Morgana spurred her horse at a tearing pace. Apparently, the horse felt that this was a matter of life and death, because she started galloping without hesitation. She ran through the unspoiled snow and left a trail of hoofs behind her, all over the white landscape.
Morgana looked back in a hurry, and wiped off warm blood from her cheek. The deep cut was the result of an unexpected encounter with a nest of Gremlins: tiny, green creatures with big ears, mean, red eyes and sharp claws. They looked a bit like Kobolds, but they were – as Morgana had just discovered – stronger and more vicious. And, into the bargain, they also had Magic. She could've been a match for one Gremlin, even two, but a whole gang of Gremlins had been too strong. Bloody, little ogres...
She turned her head again and saw about fifty pocket-sized devils, who were staring at her, while stamping their feet and yelling some gibberish.
Morgana laughed and looked back forward, at the endless snow and the endless hills of Scotland.
The last few weeks had gone by much faster than the ones before, because her wish for a contest had finally come out. She had, amongst other things, encountered a crazy, old enchanter. He'd challenged her to a Magical duel. Apparently, the fool had really believed he stood a chance. Although Morgana had never won a single battle before, she knew there was a very good explanation for: she'd only fought Morgause in the past.
However, her sister had explained her the rules of a Magical battle. In fact, it was very simple: there were no rules, except that the combatants had to fight until death. And that was also what happened to the old man. Morgana had ruthlessly killed him, because it had to be like that. Those were the Magical laws, after a challenge, there was no way back, so they couldn't escape it. It had been his own fault.
The umpteenth murder, the umpteenth life she'd taken... and she didn't feel anything. No regrets, no sorry.
But now she knew why, and she cursed her dark soul. She'd become just as numb as the ones she hated. If this had to be her destiny, then she wondered why she had to be the dupe of it.
Not much later, when the first snow had already begun to fall, she'd come across a trio of Serkets. The painful scar on her leg, which had never healed properly, had throbbed obnoxiously when she'd seen the giant scorpions, as if it remembered how much it had suffered after the poisonous sting of its family. But this time, it had been different. She didn't need to rely on sympathetic Druids any more to adjust the Serkets. She only had to say 'céne ǽled' and watch how the scorpions got charred.
Morgana couldn't help but laughing scornfully at the sight of it. She still hadn't forgotten what their congeners had done to her...
The snow appeared to be an impediment, but nonetheless she liked it more than the rain. It reminded her of Midwinter, fiery snowball fights with Arthur, ice skating and warm milk with honey in front of the fireplace.
Winter in Camelot had, doubtlessly, been the most magical time of the year, though Uther would never have admitted it. However, Magic had always been right under his very nose. It could be found in the smallest of things.
While being absorbed in thoughts about her days in Camelot, which hadn't been that bad before she'd found out she had Magic, she realised only after a couple of hours that the trail of hooves in the snow were the same as Nox's, and she'd seen the same bald trees and the same hills before.
Morgana shook her head in disbelief. What Supreme Beings were fooling her, she wondered. She could impossibly get lost, because she was always heading to the same direction, wasn't it? Maybe it was merely an illusion, because the landscape looked so much alike (though she had to admit that wasn't true, but she wanted to deceive herself, because she considered the thought of being lost to be very embarrassing)?
So she kept moving on, and kept seeing the same hills, the same mountains, the same trees and the same frozen lakes again and again.
"What, in the name of the Goddess, it this supposed to mean?" she cursed out loud, after she'd came across the rock, which looked like highland cattle, for the fifth time. She stopped and jumped off her horse, in the snow, that already reached to her knees. Her cheeks were pink because of the coldness, she'd already pulled the sleeves of her tunic over her hands to protect herself against it, but on the inside, she was starting to feel the warmth of nervousness. It should be Magic, there was no other explanation.
"Áwréon galdorléoð", Morgana murmured a simple but effective spell, which Morgause had taught her, and was supposed to reveal the basic Magic that surrounded the one who spoke it.
Her green eyes turned golden for a second, but Morgana couldn't feel anything but her own Magic.
She tried to keep herself under control and to think logically, as panicking wasn't a good idea. Why hadn't Morgause taught her a spell that could show her the way? Probably because her sister presumed that her younger sibling was smarter than getting lost when she only had to ride to the North, Morgana accused herself sullenly.
She looked around, hoping that there was at least something that could help her to take her bearings. Snow covered mountains, an endless sight of white hills, a frozen river, a giant opening in the mountain, a bald forest, a... – giant opening in the mountain? She hadn't seen that before, she was sure of it. She would have noticed it already, because it was hard to miss it.
So that clearly was Magic. How else could one explain something which hadn't been there before, and now it was?
Cautious, she stared at the opening of something which was undoubtedly a gigantic cave. She wanted to take a look, because it was the only thing she hadn't seen before in the landscape, but, on the other hand, it appeared to be rather obscure. If there was such powerful Magic in the neighbourhood, then she could better be careful. Nonetheless, it gave her no advantage when she simply stood still, so she took her horse's bridles and pushed her way through the snow, towards the cave, while she unintentionally closed her hand around her dagger. She caught herself already collecting Magic in her head, ready to use it if necessary.
The closer she got, the more she started to feel the Magic of the cave, crackling around her. Her own Magic guided her to it, began to flew through her body and was slowly taking possession of her.
But nothing happened. Not a single furious creature escaped from the cave, and there were no triggers which fired a bunch of arrows at her from the moment she'd reached an estimated point. She was standing in front of the entrance of the dark cave, and there was absolutely nothing to be seen.
"Hello, there", a voice suddenly spoke. Morgana startled, snapped, lost her balance and fell in the snow. Automatically, she took her dagger out of her belt and held it in her outstretched hand, while she was hastily looking around. "Put that thing away, Morgana. You might hurt someone", the same voice behind her said, on a friendly tone.
Morgana turned her head in less than no time. A small, very small man with a brown cap and a kind face was jovially staring at her. Although he looked like he wouldn't even harm a fly, he'd still almost frightened her to death.
"How do you know my name?" Morgana asked suspiciously.
"Your name is very well known in this area", the little man smiled.
"How could that be? I've never been here before." Morgana glanced at him in disbelief.
"No, you're not," he leaned a bit over, until he was able to converse at eye level with the young sorceress, who was still supporting on her elbows in the snow, "but your name has."
"Funny", Morgana sneered, on a sarcastic tone which Morgause wouldn't have done any better. But the little man kept smiling, and stretched out his hand. Morgana hesitated for a moment, but decided eventually she could as well take it. He shook her hand and pulled her – with a surprising strength – out of the snow.
"I'm Grettir", the Dwarf said, while Morgana tried her best to wipe off the snow from her black cloak.
"Nice to meet you", Morgana answered, though she wasn't sure if she really meant those words. Nonetheless, the years at the royal court had taught her politeness and charm, and those were two characteristics which she would possess for the rest of her life, as they were drummed into her head when she was just a small child.
"How is your brother, Morgana?" Grettir asked then, on a tone which he clearly assumed to be innocent, though the sorceress absolutely didn't like the current subject of their conversation. She stiffened for a second, and it took her some time before she found herself back.
"King, I suppose", Morgana eventually hissed. She didn't want to be queen any more, she didn't want to go back to Camelot and somewhere very deep inside, she still cared a little bit about Arthur (although she would never admit it), but he'd taken away her right to the throne, and for that she would never forgive him.
"Good, very good", Grettir nodded approvingly, "and how is your sister?"
"I'm pleased to say Morgause was still in a perfect health when I left", Morgana spoke without hesitating, as if she'd rehearsed those words before.
"Of course you're pleased to say that", Grettir smirked, and Morgana couldn't say if he was sarcastic or if he truly meant his words. "You'll both need them in the future", he told after a few moments of silence. Here we go again, Morgana thought, yet another ancient riddle from which I'm not supposed to know the answer, undoubtedly.
"Listen," Morgana said, acting calm, though she felt frustration boiling on the inside, "I'm sick of all those stupid riddles. Why would I need them – why would I need Arthur, for Heaven's sake Arthur, in the future? Why is it that I will bring back peace and prosperity? Why is it that everybody seems to know what my destiny is, except for myself?" Although she'd wanted to stay calm and to be the epitome of steadiness, her voice rose with every word, until she spoke her final sentence almost shrieking.
"Your destiny is to protect king Arthur and queen Guinevere, to help Merlin to bring back Magic in Camelot and to unite the free lands of Brittannia into the kingdom of Albion", Grettir answered. The smile of his face had disappeared, and he seemed to be very serious.
"W – what?" Morgana stuttered. "What, in the name of the Great Goddess, do you mean by such plain nonsense?" she retorted. She couldn't believe her ears.
"It is the truth." Morgana could only gaze at him. "Someone had to tell you some day", Grettir added, shrugging.
"And who has decided that I should believe you?" Morgana asked, sounding more stubborn than she'd intended to.
"That's completely up to you." This time, the Dwarf smiled again. Morgana, however, looked at him meaningfully, and she didn't had to doubt for a second before she decided she didn't believe him. In fact, what he called 'her destiny', was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "But I believe you were lost", Grettir chuckled then. The sudden change of subject confused Morgana for a brief moment, and for just a minute, she forgot were she was and what she did there. "You'll find your way back at the end of the cave."
"That cave?" Morgana pointed at the hole in the mountain in front of her, though it was the only thing in the neighbourhood that could pass for a cave.
"That cave", Grettir confirmed. Morgana looked inside and had to admit she didn't really fancy the idea to of risking herself into the darkness.
"How do I know it isn't a trap?" she asked uncertainly.
"If I wanted to kill you, Morgana, I would have done it already", the Dwarf said. Morgana wanted to protest, but realised he was right, because she'd neither seen nor heard him coming, so he would have had plenty of time to murder her if he intended to. "It is time to leave", he encouraged her.
"What will I do with my horse?" Morgana asked however. She didn't want to send Nox through the cave, but she absolutely didn't want to leave her behind.
"She doesn't need a cave to get on the other side. I'll make sure she will wait for you at the exit", Grettir smiled.
"And why wouldn't she be needing a cave to get on the other side?" Morgana asked, without being able to hide the contempt in her voice. But the Dwarf only kept on smiling widely, without having the intention of answering her question. "Great... why not?" Morgana grumbled sarcastically. She sighed, looked at Grettir –who was still smiling joyfully – for the last time and headed to the dark entrance of the cave.
"Oh, and Morgana," Morgana turned around, to face him once again, "just one thing."
"What?"
"It's better if you do not see Morgause as your sister yet. One day, when this is all over and you don't have to fulfil your destinies, when your hearts will be free and pure again, then she shall become your sister."
"You just said that I'll be needing her in the future?" Morgana remembered.
"Her wish is to protect you, but her destiny is to kill you", Grettir spoke mysteriously, and even before Morgana could open her mouth, the Dwarf had already disappeared.
The young sorceress stood stock-still in front of the entrance for a couple of moments, still with a pulled dagger.
"I've already witnessed a lot of things, but this was by far the strangest", she murmured, more or less to Nox but mainly to herself. She didn't know what to think about Grettir's final warning, and eventually, she decided she would worry about it once she got out of the cave.
She sighed, tried to collect her courage, glanced over her faithful horse for the last time and stepped into the darkness of the cave.
Immediately, she felt the cave existed only out of Magic. The atmosphere had changed and the heavy pressure appeared to be making for her. But the thing Morgana startled the most, was the distinctive smell. It stank of rotten flesh and the typical smell of the death, which she'd got to know when she'd wandered through the tombs of Camelot with the staff that could summon the deaths.
Instinctively, she knew nothing good would ever come if she went deeper into the cave, so she turned around, with only with thought flowing through her mind: she had to get out of this as quick as she could. Why had she ever trusted Grettir in the first place?
Frightened, she hurried back to the entrance, while only faintly being conscious of the fact that she now had to find another way to escape from the valley.
But suddenly, she stood still. Some time ago, she'd made up her mind to stop running away from her troubles, the malicious, blaming voice in her head spoke. But why was it so difficult?
She heaved a sigh. All the training Morgause had given to her, hadn't only led her Magical abilities up to a point were she'd become a dreaded opponent for everyone – Magical and non-Magical – but it had given her even more self-confidence than she'd already had before. She was smart, talented and powerful, and she knew it. But still, she was afraid to go any further, afraid of whatever might be ahead of her. How could she ever even dare to hope she would become a decent High Priestess one day if she didn't dare to enter a cave?
Angry at her sudden cowardice, she stubbornly turned around and headed again in the direction of the darkness and the Magic. This time, she wouldn't hesitate.
"Léohtfæt", she murmured. After that, the whole cave beamed in the Magical light. The walls of the cave were full of old, red grooves, which Morgana only faintly recognised from the oldest books of spells she'd read. She could read the runic alphabet, but the marks, which the ancient Druids had written down, were unknown to her, and even Morgause didn't understand them. Her sister had once told her that they derived from far-off days, and their meaning was now forgotten - "Pity," Morgause had added, "because they contain powerful, Magical abilities, which are unknown to us."
Morgana walked curiously towards one of the walls. With long and small fingers, she touched the red grooves. Magic flew through her body, and though nothing happened, her eyes coloured golden. She smiled for reasons she didn't understand very well, but the familiar feeling Magic brought to her, made her wanting to let her hand rest on the wall for hours.
Morgana remembered how Morgause had told her, last winter – when it had been too cold to go outside – about the Crystal Cave. She'd said that it was there Magic had begun. But no-one knew where it could be. The only thing Morgause had heard about it, was that it could be found in the mythical Valley of the Fallen Kings. Could this be that particular valley? Was this the Crystal Cave?
Although Morgana had to admit that was quite an exciting thought, and she secretly hoped it to be true, her common sense snapped at her that she could impossibly be in the Crystal Cave, because – as its name already gave away – then there would be Crystals everywhere. She knew how such a Crystal looked like, she once had the chance to hold one herself, without realising its value.
But still, she kept believing this wasn't an ordinary Magical cave. There was more. Something more intense, something mystical, something even Morgause wouldn't be able to explain. Something only she was meant to know. After all, her destiny had led her to this place.
Finally, she pulled her hand back from the bizarre wall, glanced at the entrance of the cave for the last time and eventually went forward. Though the light kept on following her, Morgana still noticed, and she hated the thought, that it started to beam less as she made her way to the darker areas of the deep cave.
"Léohtfæt", she whispered, hoping that her only source of light would grow stronger again, but nothing happened. Uncomfortably, Morgana thought back at what Morgause had once said to her: when Magic fails, it means that there is another, more powerful, Magical source. "Léohtfæt", she tried again, this time with emphasis. It didn't work. The light she'd summoned some minutes ago, only shone weakly in front of her, and it didn't seem like it would become any stronger.
Morgana subconsciously took her dagger even tighter in her clammy hands. While biting on her lower lip, she marched on, through the corridor which became narrower and narrower by every step she took. And in the meantime, the light extinguished slowly.
All Morgana's senses were now on their guard. She realised she would soon lose her sight, so she prepared herself to use all of her other senses. She could hear the dripping of water, together with her footsteps, which echoed throughout the cave. And if she really concentrated herself, she could even swear she perceived her own nervously beating heart among the other, soft sounds.
In the meantime, the scent of death had only become worse. It stunned her in such a way that her eyes started to tear and she had to put her left hand in front of her nose so she wouldn't have to smell it any more.
She took another step, and suddenly, both expected as unexpected, the last bit of light, which was flowing around in the cave, extinguished. Although Morgana had been anticipating it, she still startled. Immediately, she felt how panic rose to her throat. Only now she couldn't see anything any more, she realised how much she'd really trusted on her eyes.
"Léohtfæt", she tried, for the last time, desperately. But as she'd already been fearing, nothing happened. "Líeg æt forð", she changed her tack, without fully realising what she was doing. Normally, when she pronounced that spell, a cool fire appeared in her hands. It was less strong than the light she'd enchanted in the first place, but at least it would take the darkness away. But now, again, nothing happened. Slowly, Morgana became aware of the fact that it didn't matter what kind of Magic she used, she would never be able to summon a light in this darkness.
Suddenly, it became hard to keep on standing on her trembling legs, and she leaned unconsciously against the wall, while she was having the feeling someone had just punched her in the stomach.
"Oh God... what now? What now?" she murmured. It had all been a trap, and she'd blindly fallen for it. How on earth could she be so stupid? She fiercely wished Morgause would be with her. Even after everything her sister had said on that meeting, many months back, even after Grettir had warned her it was Morgause's destiny to kill her (not that she believed it. Now she was trapped, she didn't believe anything from what Grettir had said any more), she still wanted Morgause to be on her side. Even if Morgause wouldn't completely understand what was happening, she would at least know what to do.
Morgana closed her eyes. What would Morgause do?
"There is no point of standing here, my sister," she heard the voice of her sister saying in her head, and she startled, "you've got to go on. Come on."
She opened her eyes in surprise. The last thing she'd expected to happen, was her sister speaking to her in her mind. Did it mean that Morgause was still on her side? That she could feel that her younger sister was in trouble? It had happened before, so why couldn't it be happening now?
But Morgause wanted her death...
"I don't want you death, Morgana", the sincere voice of her sister sounded again in her head. This time, Morgana wasn't surprised to hear her. Only confused.
"Where are you?" Morgana asked back, using her mind.
"At home", Morgause simply answered. Morgana sighed. She realised that there was no other place in the world she'd rather be at that moment than home.
"Where am I?" she whispered.
"I don't know, but you cannot stay here. It will be your death if you hesitate", Morgause said, much more nervous than she'd ever spoken to anyone.
"I presumed that was exactly what you wanted", Morgana thought before she had been able to stop it. It was followed by a long and awkward silence in which Morgana wished she hadn't said that, because then Morgause would know she'd eavesdropped them, and for so many other reasons. But now she'd thought it anyway, she feared for the answer.
"Why do you think so?" Morgause eventually asked.
Morgana had her answer ready. "I've personally heard you saying it to Lyra and all the others. You think I'm going to cooperate with Merlin..." only the though at him made Morgana shiver, "I hate him, Morgause."
"I know", Morgause simply answered.
"Then why? Why do you want me to die?" Morgana wished she'd sounded less desperate. "I don't understand."
"I don't want you to die, I want you to return safe and sound to Cornwall." She sounded so honest... why did she sound so honest?
But Morgause was a very good actress, Morgana knew. She'd already proven that on many occasions.
"Give me one reason why I should believe you", Morgana required severe, although she was relieved Morgause was in Tintagel and not standing next to her, so she couldn't see the upcoming tears in her eyes.
Once again, a long silence followed. Morgana wished it hadn't been there, that Morgause would have been able to give her a reliable answer without hesitating. An answer that would take all the doubts away. But it didn't come, and with every second that passed, Morgana felt how disappointed and frustrated Magic started to take possession of her.
Finally, after some minutes which had seemed to take a lifetime, she could hear the voice of Morgause again, sounding in her head. "You are my sister, Morgana, and the only family I've left. I promised our mother on her death-bed that I would take care of you, no matter what happens, and I will keep that promise."
Morgana swallowed. That was something Morgause had never told her before, she never spoke of their common mother. But the fact she did now, she did say the magical word 'mother', made the lump in her throat crack. Tears ran over her cheeks, while a feeling she hadn't felt for a very long time overwhelmed her: unconditional love for her sister.
"Then why did you say to the High Priestesses I have to die?" she asked, as a little child who needed the comforting words of her mother, or, in Morgana's case, her older sister.
"I don't know, I really don't know." The answer was short, but honest, and though Morgana didn't know what to make of it, she now knew she believed Morgause.
"I'm on your side, Morgause. Always. I don't know what this Bond, or my destiny or whatever means, but I swear I'll always be on your side." She meant every word.
"Morgana, I'm...", Morgause started. Morgana expected she would say something like 'I'm sorry', but contemplated then that wasn't something for her sister, and she got right when Morgause said: "Forget what I've said then, I don't know what came over me. That was then, and this is now. Trust me, like you once did."
"I trust you", Morgana answered automatically, but she know it was true.
"I can't keep talking to you. If the High Priestesses are going to find out I've contacted you, the consequences are going to be severe."
"How do I get out of this?" Morgana quickly asked the most urgent matter, as it became clear to her that she wouldn't be seeing or hearing Morgause again for the coming months.
"I don't know, Morgana, but do not hesitate. I've told you before, and I maintain that you have to trust your Magic. It is stronger represented in you than in other Magicians, and it is no coincidence your Test was more difficult than the others." Morgana hadn't even reconsidered that. She believed that it could both be interpreted as a disturbing and an encouraging thought. "But promise me you'll be careful."
Morgana nodded, then realised Morgause couldn't see her and therefore declared: "I promise."
"Good," Morgause answered, "normally, I won't be contacting you any more, but..."
"Why did you contact me now?" Morgana curiously interrupted.
"Because you needed me", Morgause answered. There she was right, Morgana thought, and she smiled. "Now go", Morgause said after a while.
"I see you after the Test", Morgana responded self-confident. There came no answer, and Morgana already missed the voice of her sister, but on the other hand, she was very grateful she'd heard her.
It had all been a misunderstanding, and although Morgause hadn't been very clear in her declaration, Morgana still knew she was honest, and that made everything right. Faintly, Grettir's prophetic words crossed her mind. "Her wish is to protect you, but her destiny is to kill you." But Grettir had pulled her leg. He'd tried to set her against Morgause and had entrapped her, how could she even attempt to believe him?
For a moment, Morgana considered if going back was an option, but something pulled her deeper inside the cave. Morgause had told her she had to trust her Magic, and that led her further into the darkness.
She scanned the rest of the cave, without being able to see anything, and marched on. The smell of death, the scent of corpses and destruction, manifested around her and almost made her retch. With one hand in front of her mouth, and the other still catching her dagger, she courageously went on.
Always straight on... do not hesitate... it was repeated in her head over and over again, as a mantra.
Suddenly, she recognized a faint shine in the distance, as if the light, which had disappeared many minutes ago, had gone to this place. Morgana cautiously walked onto it, until – "Ouch!" A hard bang on her head made her to stagger backwards. Morgana blinked, in an attempt to keep her head, and felt in front of her, to see what could have caused the smack.
A callous rock was the rogue. Morgana grumpily bended over, with a painful throbbing head, and went on all fours to the light.
When she found herself only inches away from the source of light, she saw what it was. It wasn't an ordinary light, nor a flame. It was a Crystal, just like Morgause possessed one and just like the famous Crystal of Neahtid, which Morgana had once stolen from Uther's wealthy store.
She put her dagger back in her backpack, because she still didn't want to try to remove her left hand from her mouth and nose and threw up her breakfast, and took the Crystal with her free right hand. It had already been clearer than all the other Crystals she'd seen before, and when she held it, it lit up even more, until the narrow corridor with the low ceiling lightened completely.
Morgana gratefully smiled. She felt how her own Magic flew through her body and across her right hand to the Crystal, and she instinctively knew she was the one who made it to light up so brightly.
Without thinking, she examined her reflection, which she hadn't seen in weeks. She noticed she looked tired and her vivid, limegreen eyes were still red, because of the tears she'd cried. Her raven-black hair was a crisscross of curls, waves and wild locks. It was hard to believe that there had been days that her full time job existed of combing and fixing her hair. The blood of the deep cut, which she had received this morning after she'd encountered those Gremlins, had dried and was now an unattractive, red line on her cheek, and the smack she'd gotten just a minute ago, already started to become visible in the shape of a beginning bruise on her forehead.
She looked more mature, she noticed. She stared closer into the Crystal, in a haughty and futile attempt to fix her hair more or less, when the image suddenly changed.
She was twenty-one, looked healthy and determined and her pitch-black hair was in an elegant bun underneath a richly decorated crown, finished with the most expensive diamonds and jewels. She was sitting on the too large throne of her father, Uther Pendragon, and smirked satisfied. She was wearing the most beautiful dress she had – the silk, purple one with the golden laces.
Her face, which looked juvenile in comparison with the sharp, grown-up face of the twenty-three year old Morgana – who was looking in complete astonishment at the Crystal – was extremely beautiful but frightening at the same time. It was pallid, as if she was death, and her lips were flaming red. But the scariest thing were her eyes, as cold as steel. There was no life in those eyes, only death.
The eyes of queen Morgana Pendragon of Camelot.
The eyes of a murderess.
Morgana quickly removed her glance. She didn't want to see it any more, wanted to deny, even forget, what she'd just been seeing.
She looked back in front of her, in the light, and suddenly startled. There was someone over there, she could see his contours. Her heart started to beat faster, and she jumped upright in a second, still holding the Crystal tightly.
"Who is there?" she yelled in an undertone, as her hand was still in front of her mouth, to the person. There came no answer, and for a moment, Morgana thought she was finding herself inside one of her nightmares. "Answer me!"
"My name is Gerallt", a sinister man voice replied. His contours became cleared while a man, Morgana estimated he was about thirty-five years old, stepped into the light. He looked ashen and his clothes were torn and blood stained. The blood was still pouring out of his stomach, in which a red dagger of the Bloodguard was situated.
She knew him. She'd murdered him, one night, back in Camelot.
Morgana trembled like a reed, and fiercely shook her head. This wasn't real, she was only imagining it...
Behind her, a second man walked towards her. His clothes were covered in blood as well, while two arrows sticked out of his chest. He looked at her, his face infuriated, and she automatically stepped backwards, until she felt something cold against her body.
She hastily turned around, and looked inside the lifeless, grey eyes of an older woman, with an arrow in her head.
"What's wrong, queen Morgana?" her ominous voice asked. "Are you afraid of the death?"
"Go away!" Morgana screamed. She stroke out left and right, through the foggy appearances which surrounded her. "Go away!"
A hand pulled at the back of her cloak. Morgana turned around again, and saw a small child with an arrow in his blood stained neck.
"No...", she murmured. She'd never wanted this. She'd never wanted to kill innocent children, she, herself, had been a child as well back then.
"Why did you kill me?" the boy asked. His eyes weren't innocent or confused, as one could expect of such a small child, but they were accusing. Very accusing...
"I... didn't want to...", Morgana stuttered, with tears in her eyes.
"Liar!" a man, on the other side, screamed. Morgana recognised him as being the old wizard who'd refused to let her pass, some weeks back. Her latest victim.
They were everywhere, floating around her and coming closer. It was as if all the air was squeezing out of her lungs, until she couldn't breath any more. Her hands were clam and she had the feeling as if she'd just bumped into that rock for twenty times in a row.
She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping that all the ghost would've disappeared, but nothing was further from the truth.
They were still floating towards her, with outstretched hands.
"Go away!" she yelled again, with the last bit of air she could still feel in her lungs. Instinctively, she collected her Magic and screamed: "Céne ǽled!". Fire escaped from her fingertips, and with a whirlwind, the flames breezed through the long and narrow corridor, right through the ghosts.
"You can't kill us for a second time, queen Morgana", one of the ghosts behind her whispered. Her body became immobile. Their hands were still coming closer. They would kill her, like she'd killed them: without mercy.
She felt how the first, freezing hands touched her, went for her throat. With her free hand, she took the wrist of Gerallt's ghost, the ghost of the guard who'd asked her if she was all right, but another hand took her throat, and finally, all the hands of all the ghosts were surrounding her, and slowly started to strangle her.
Morgana gasped for breath, terrified. Afraid to die, although she didn't deserve any better. Suddenly Magic, acting as her survival instinct, took possession of her. Her eyes turned golden, her body became stronger and fresh oxygen filled her lungs.
With her stronger, Magical body, she waved her arms and kicked, she showed fight. With the latest bit of energy, she pushed them all away, but they all came back.
Eventually, she fell down on the ground, defeated and surrounded by the death of which she would soon be a part. Her muscles were already weakening, her eyelids were giving up the fight and now very, very soon, the latest thing she'd felt in her life, were the suffocating hands of the death.
"Morgana, drop the Crystal!" Morgause's voice suddenly echoed urgently through her head. "Drop it! Break it!"
Morgana, who hadn't even realised she was still holding the Crystal convulsively, threw the silver-coloured thing away without a second thought, using the very last bit of strength she had left. It ended up against the wall, and fell to thousand pieces. Suddenly, the ghosts disappeared, together with the cave, in a whirling tornado, and before she knew it, she was laying on the cold snow, crying and trembling.
She gasped for breath and inhaled the oxygen as if it was the last time she could feel such a simple and yet valuable thing in her lungs, and indeed, that had been a near thing.
Morgause had saved her life. Without her sister's voice, her body would've been death in the cave, while her spirit would wander amongst the other spirits, doomed to never find redemption.
Her head was almost cracking in pain. Though she knew the ghosts were long gone by now, it was as if they were still standing beside her, about to kill her.
She'd killed them... she'd killed the child...
Morgana turned on her side, and cried bitter tears. Even when she felt Nox's soft mouth poking against her shoulder, she wasn't going to stand up. She never wanted to stand up again. She never wanted to be confronted with the truth, which was so hard.
"Morgana?" she heard an asking male voice in the distance, after a time which could both have lasted minutes or hours.
She knew that voice. She despised that voice, and when she looked up, the feeling of hate was only getting stronger.
He had become a man, but he was still the same boy as he'd been two years back. He was still wearing his brown boots, the same loose pants, blue tunic with his characterizing scarf, and the same brown jacket he never seemed to take off.
Only his black hair had gotten longer, and he now had a beard, by which he looked like a grown-up man. But she knew he was only a boy. And she hated him.
"Merlin!"