A/N: Chapter 3 of Going Back. Please review; I like to hear your thoughts and opinions.
I have spent a lot of time with planning the entire story, so stay tuned.
Have a wonderful day.
Real
Once Merlin fell asleep, the figure, the figure of Light, appeared.
"You are ready," it said, still in the form of a woman.
Merlin was happy, but the gravity of the impending future composed his manner. "Yes," he said, a sharp focus in his eyes.
"You shall not go back without first knowing the truth."
His eyebrows narrowed. "What truth?" he said, shielding his eyes from the brightness.
The Light stood still, its voice of an indescribable nature. "Time is not just complicated. It is infinitely complicated. Every change you make can and will influence the past—and the future—in ways you do not expect. And often, it will change things that you do not desire."
Merlin waited for the voice to continue, slight anxiety overruled by a tingling excitement.
"Because of this," the Light continued, "I tell you take care in when you try to change anything that may have unintended consequences."
The Warlock nodded; unlike anything he had ever met, the voice's truth was completely undeniable. Every word that he heard was instantly certain.
"Also, beware of yourself—your previous self. If your previous self becomes aware of you, then it shall cease to exist; you will fill the void and be trapped in that time forever."
Merlin's eyes widened, but he nodded again. I'll have to make sure not to do that….
"Lastly," the voice said — Merlin winced, expecting another rule — "enjoy it; make right what you can and be at peace with what you do."
Merlin, relieved, asked, "Yes, but how do I get to you again?"
The Light laughed, a sound so beautiful that Merlin could not find a way to describe it. "I am always with you," she said.
• • •
A rather loud bird caused the Warlock to open his eyes.
Light. Sun. Morning. Leaf. Tree. Forest.
I'm in Camelot!
He lay on his back, wet from a moist patch of soil. The morning sun cast a mottled glance at the clearing around him.
He recognized the area from his many adventures; it was just outside the castle….
He shot up and ran.
Through branches, a puddle, rabbit droppings—
The rush of emotion was too alive, too powerful to be called nostalgia.
The castle stood, complete, secure, and proud; it was at the very height of its grandeur, and to Merlin it was a shining beacon of remembrance. He advanced toward it with uncontained elation, feeling nothing but the impossible beauty of a dream fulfilled.
Then he heard the drumbeat, and Uther Pendragon's voice. He recognized the speech.
Today is my previous-self's first day in Camelot.
He proceeded with more caution. When he reached the castle wall, he decided to scale it with magic—blending in with the crowd was far too risky.
His powers had grown tremendously over the millions of hours he had lived. In a few seconds he had positioned himself at the top of a turret, with a full view of the execution.
Merlin searched for his younger self and soon saw a gangly boy watching concernedly as the king spoke. Merlin's eyes shifted to Uther and Arthur—
The sight—the simple sight of the pompous prat—brought an utter feeling of reality to Merlin. He fought back the tears, but they came out, slowly at first, then flowed quickly down his face.
He wiped them away and noticed a window open above the king. A girl looked out, the only one that regarded the execution with neither fear nor condemnation.
It was a look of injustice, of righteous anger. The fire in her green eyes was at the same time compassionate.
It was the deep honesty in Morgana's expression that filled Merlin with such emotion. She was so young, so vulnerable, so good, so whole. Merlin vowed that no matter how he changed the future, he would not allow Morgana to be left alone again.
The sorcerer was executed; his mother promised vengeance.
But in a situation filled with darkness, Merlin felt hope.