I truly am sorry how long it's been taking me to update. With my job, I write only about a fifth of the pace that I used to. I'm trying to keep this story at a good pace, but to do that, I can't write myself into a corner, which will happen if I can't stay ahead of the updates. It's getting harder and harder but I swear to you, I will not give up.


~23~ Arcane Knowledge

"You're a priestess of the Ancient Kingdom?"

Hecate smiled grimly. "One of the few who remain. One of the few who had been chosen by prophecy in ages past. We have no choice in the matter."

The warlock looked to Gabriela, who was standing perfectly still, deadpan.

"Do not trouble yourself with her," said the priestess. "We speak only to you."

Merlin bristled. "What do you mean, 'trouble?' I trust her."

"We did not mean to offend your trust, Emrys. You should still be wary; her kind has killed many of yours."

"My kind is not what you think," Merlin said, rebellion spicing in his tone. "Gabriela has a right to speak with you just as much as I."

Hecate hastily extinguished the aura of anger and bemusement caused by the warlock's outburst. "So be it. But do not think you can toy with us, mortal. We may be a shadow of our past glory, but we can use the Silver Heart as well as you. It is a dangerous tool, one that can break the barrier between the worlds. You will do well to remember that when you go to use it."

Merlin remembered enough about Archons to know that, indeed, there are those who are gone that should stay gone, some more so than others.

The priestess considered him. "You know a few Archons of your own, don't you? Or rather, their agents. Do you remember Anhora?"

"Yes...yes, the Keeper of the Unicorns! He was an Archon disciple?"

"Indubitably. He was one of Larentia's brother's more extinguished – and benevolent – accomplices. And what about Taliesin?"

This time, Merlin remembered faster. "He was the Seer who showed me the Crystal Cave with the prophetic visions. I only ever saw him once..."

Again Hecate nodded, her golden eyes piercing Merlin's blue like shards of topaz. "Your memory is good, Emrys. That will help you in later years. There are very few Archon disciples left in your world, for they have either died or decided to join the Archons in the dormant domain. But enough about that. You wished to speak to Larentia, yet I grow tired. It is only because of the Silver Heart and your immense powers that she has the strength and will to answer to you through me at all. Without one or the other, this exchange would not be possible." She slowly moved to sit on the edge of the stone table before the statue of the Archon. "What is that you want, Emrys?"

The warlock shifted. "Do you not know? I thought you would."

"We are not so omniscient as you make us to be. We Know what the forest Knows. We Hear what it Hears and no more. I See no obvious troubles in your path."

"See? Like the Silverbloods and Blackhands?"

A ripple of irritated unrest spoiled the calmed aura of the shrine as Hecate stood, no longer depicting a delicate old woman. She shook her wrinkled finger vigorously."Watch your tongue, boy! How dare you bring up old hatreds and mistrusts like a rotten root? They defiled Larentia's name with their false praises and misjudged assumptions! They believe she watched over them but in truth she had not the ability to strike them down herself. Foolish mortal. Do not speak of which you do not know!"

Merlin unwillingly retreated a step, feeling true fear for the first time. "What? I don't understand! How did I offend you, priestess?"

Hecate raised a hand. A force slammed into Merlin like a storm headwind, and what must be the powers of the unseen Archon prodded his mind like a telepathic, not kindly, making him shudder. After several moments, it withdrew, leaving Merlin gasping and sweating.

"Forgive us, Emrys," said Hecate docilely. "We had to make sure that you were not lying to us. We now understand your ignorance, and hold nothing against you."

"What do you mean?"

"It is a misconception that the Silverbloods, and Blackhands, are anything like the Archons. Know that they are not in their favour. Larentia did not give them the gift of the Sight."

"Then...who did?"

Hecate continued to speak from her perspective. "It was her brother, Nocturn, who followed through with such a foolish endeavour. Like Larentia, he was one of the last Archons to accept the end of their time, and they both held to this world for as long as they could. They loved it dearly so, and I loved them..." The priestess trailed off mournfully.

How old is she? Merlin couldn't help but wonder in awe.

Hecate continued in full vigour, "Nocturn was the one who created the werewolves thousands of years ago, just after the dragons were birthed by Draco. Back then, it had real offspring of its own. That beast was one of many made by Nocturn, others being the unicorn and the gryphon. He loved putting animals together; it amused him to see how they compared to Larentia's creatures, how they hunted, how they acted, how they terrorized mortals if they had the nature and the inclination." Hecate shook her head. "He claimed to have brought the werewolves into the world to ensure that the mortals were kept on their toes. I'm sure that it was just for fun. He eventually changed the werewolves to prey on humans, used them to expand their already swollen numbers."

"What do the Silverbloods have to do with this?"

"Patience, Emrys. I was getting to that. Larentia's brother watched with gradually ebbing entertainment as the mortals fought in vain against the spreading werewolf blood, or, when the time came, were ruled by it. When the Archons were forced from this world, Nocturn gave three mortals the power to See, and therefore recognize, the werewolf even when it was still a human. The Sight also let them See magic of all kinds, and the emotions of lesser beings. So began the war between the beast and the bloods."

"But the Silverbloods didn't succeed."

"Looking at you now, I would say not."

"And that's why I'm here."

"You're here to prove that the Silverbloods failed in their efforts?"

Merlin paused. "...No. I'm here for a cure."

The Archon's presence once more swept through the shrine, and Merlin feared it would pry at his mind again. But Hecate merely took a step forward, looking confused. "A cure? Whatever do you want a cure for?"

Merlin frowned. "This is a curse. I've already killed a man and—"

"You should not be so hasty, young mortal. This is a gift! A give of strength, speed, and longevity. You should be honoured for such an opportunity."

"...Opportunity?"

"To be the best of man, and the best of beast. In this age, you would be unstoppable."

"I don't want to be unstoppable! I want it gone, and from my king as well!"

The priestess blinked her large yellow eyes, clearly still baffled. "Your king? What is a king compared to the terrible and magnificent power of the werewolf? With your limitless magic, you have the potential to be the greatest being to ever roam the earth, and even rival the power of the Archons themselves."

Merlin struggled to keep his face impassive. "What good is magic when I can't use it?"

"How do you mean?"

"I don't have my mind as a wolf. I can't use magic, and I can't turn at will. All I do is hurt people!"

Larentia seemed to sigh through Hecate. "You do not know how to control the werewolf blood, Emrys. It is possible for you to retain your mind even as you change, giving you full control—not to mention giving fear unto your enemies. This is a gift. You are as misinformed as those Silverbloods to think otherwise."

Anger had started to boil at the priestess' suggestion that Merlin become an unbeatable force that would bring Albion to its knees, but it was now overwhelming him and he had to fight as hard as he did the werewolf the previous night to keep it down. "How...how can you expect me to abuse my power so?" He spoke to the air now, aiming at the vague presence of Larentia. "This whole country is at stake because of your brother's creation. He – you – must come to terms with the ending of the werewolf. Its time is gone, just like yours."

"How dare you speak to her that way?" Hecate snapped. "You may have great powers at your disposal, Emrys, but I can still crush you."

Merlin gritted his teeth in fury, trying to pull himself from the brink of destruction. He heaved in breath through his nostrils, suddenly noticing the sweat trickling down his forehead and into his eye. Blinking, he met Hecate's perturbing gaze.

"I am not your enemy," he said firmly. "I come merely to beg for aid." He raised his voice, imploring Larentia to hear his plea. "My master, my friend, King Arthur Pendragon, has been infected the same as I. And in this age, such a thing means inevitable and catastrophic chaos. You call it a gift, and perhaps it was, thousands of years ago. But not now. Now, it marks me, marks Arthur, for death."

Hecate calmed just like Merlin had himself, as did the bristled presence of the Archon. After several moments of silence, the priestess said, "Arthur Pendragon. He, too, is destined for greatness. You said he was your friend."

Merlin lowered his gaze. "...He's more than that. Without him, I am nothing." A warm breeze swept around him, almost comfortingly.

"You mortals have always fascinated us," said Hecate, again speaking for her and her mistress. "You have survived everything we have ever thrown at you, because you always had that one thing to hold onto: hope." Larentia's wind withdrew slightly, but did not depart. "We can See your love for him, and through you, we can See that he is indeed a good man."

"And a royal prat."

The wind had a fresh air of amusement, but Hecate said nothing.

Merlin sighed through his nose and looked down at the Silver Heart, the metal warm from the contact of his hand. Then what felt like invisible fingers lifted his chin, and he looked at the cynical priestess.

"Do you know why they left this world, Emrys? It was because they could do nothing more. They had shaped the lands and its inhabitants as they saw fit, then they let you go to make your own lives. Not really expecting much, we were all astonished to see you mortals flourish – you grew crops, you domesticated animals, you created social classes, built cities, and much, much more. The Archons, of course, were treated like gods, until they were forgotten behind confusion, doubt, and superstition. Forgotten by all but the Priests and Priestesses of the Ancient Kingdom. Some of them acted in anger, others couldn't care less. The eldest and wisest decided that it was in fact time for them to leave, but not everyone agreed. The five Knights of the Apocalypse, for example, tried for thousands of years to return and wreck havoc upon your world. Larentia wanted to stay behind to protect her beloved woods and animals, while her brother simply loved to watch mortals fight to survive against his own creations."

"So Larentia and her kin created mankind? And everything in the world?"

"No, not created—shaped. Shaped and sculpted. Not dramatically, but just enough to start the beginning of new species or help those already existing to survive in new environments. No, life was already on this planet before we arrived, primitive as it was."

Merlin chewed on the arcane knowledge, realizing that he had been shared information that hadn't been told to anyone for hundreds—thousands—of years. The very thought was staggering.

Hecate nearly chuckled. "What you see as an incredible length of time is a mere heartbeat for an Archon. Even for me. Mortals to an Archon are as flies to a mortal, which is why we deem it such an honour to speak to you in so small a window."

"An honour?"

"You are Emrys. There will be no mortal, warlock or not, like you for the rest of humankind."

Saints alive, Merlin thought. Whatever Kilgharrah said about his destiny being great was not the slightest bit exaggerated.

Hecate slumped against the stone table of the shrine. "This journey has wearied me, Emrys. I fear my time grows short. Ask what you want of Larentia, and I shall oblige you in her stead."

The warlock wasted no time. "How do I cure the curse of the werewolf?"

"You are adamant in the removal of the gift, then. Fine. I shall indulge you—"

"Thank you—"

"For a price."

"Of course." Merlin's hands went to his hips. "So, shall it be my firstborn or my soul?"

"Calm yourself, Emrys. I have no more energy for sarcasm. My price for removing the blessing is two things." The priestess was shuffling towards him again, and Merlin felt his unease return. She held up one finger. "First, you must learn to control it—"

"But why?" the servant interrupted, confused. "What would be the point?"

"One cannot fully appreciate life without treading dangerous waters, Emrys."

"I'm not here to experience the thrills of life. I'm here for—"

"You are only making this more difficult for yourself. Be silent."

The abrupt and brusque command silenced Merlin instantly, and he blushed in his chagrin.

"I owe you nothing. You must earn my aid – not a difficult task, I assure you. It is possible, as I have said before, to retain control of your mind whilst a werewolf. You are going to attempt to do so, and when you succeed, I will lift your burden."

Merlin noticed that she said when, not if. "And what about Arthur? No matter what any old prophecy or whatever says, he is more important to Albion than every other man right now."

"All in good time, Emrys. Now, give the Heart to the Silverblood-Druid shaman."

As Merlin obliged, he suddenly remembered to ask, "Where did the Heart come from? Was it your—" He glanced upwards, meaning to ask Larentia. "Your bother's?"

"Do you want to ask questions all night, or do you want your spirit human again?" Hecate's irritation drained in exasperation. "If you must know, it was Larentia's. As she Saw via me and the forest the werewolves cause chaos on earth, she deemed it necessary to help the mortals. She summoned enough strength to break the barrier through me just so, an endeavour I have yet to fully recover from, and created the Silver Heart – now in the form of a wolf, I see – so that the werewolves could be culled when appropriate, as it was appropriate. I'm surprised they lived for so long..."

"The Heart had been lost, but was found over a century ago by the Silverbloods."

"Ah. That explains it. I have a third condition for your release, warlock."

"And that is?"

"Once the last of the werewolves have finally been vanquished, as their end is inevitable, you must destroy the Heart."

"What? Why?"

"Do you not recall us telling you that such a tool is incredibly dangerous? It can cross between the worlds, Emrys! There are few like it left here, but perhaps you know one. Can you guess any?"

Merlin shuffled briskly through his memories. "What about...the Cup of Life?"

"That one is still here, is it? Hm. I should speak to Argoth about that...I'm sure he's still sleeping..." Hecate faded off, and the warlock shifted uneasily until the priestess noticed. "Now—"

"Wait!" Merlin perked. "Initially, you said you had two requests in order for you to remove the werewolf. You said I had to learn how to control it – what was the other one?"

Hecate seemed to have grown temporarily deaf to his question, but there was a sudden air of anticipation around her. "Time grows short. No more questions. Are you ready, Emrys? Are you ready to take control of the beast within?"

Merlin stifled his irritation as he hefted the Silver Heart in his hands. Then, without a word, he strode towards Gabriela and gave it to her. Almost immediately, his powerful sense of smell returned to him, bombarding him with the rich scents of damp vegetation and forest life.

"I'm ready," he said.


"Everything changes with time. We should know this best of all." ~ Tamina (Prince of Persia)