A/N: Hello, everyone! This is the final chapter of my collection, the very first piece of fanfiction I have ever written. Woah.

Anyway, I would like to thank everyone that has followed, favorited or liked this story, as well as those who left reviews. They motivated me when I fell into a creative slump and, well. They make me happy :).

This final chapter is dedicated to Candle-Lit Dreams, who not only left encouraging reviews consistently on every single chapter but drove me to keep improving my writing and not to give up on this fic. This story is finished in large part thanks to you, and I can't tell you how great it feels. You rock, dude!

So without further ado, here is the final chapter of my collection of one-shots. I decided to post it in two parts because it is fairly long, but I hope all of you find it enjoyable. Namaste.

Disclaimer: Not I, sir.

Pt. 1

"I have seen the dark universe yawning

Where the black planets roll without aim,

Where they roll in their horror unheeded,

Without knowledge, or lustre, or name."

H.P. Lovecraft

Merlin woke up from a dead sleep to a high, blood-curdling scream. He sat upright in bed, heart pounding as the screaming continued. The sound was eerie, making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Abruptly, the screaming stopped, and was replaced by a low cackling that made Merlin's skin crawl. He scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor in his haste, and rushed out to the main room of the Physician's chambers.

"Gaius," Merlin said, shaking his mentor's shoulder lightly. "Gaius!"

The old man woke up with a grunt and blearily stared up at his distressed ward.

"Merlin? What is it?" he asked thickly.

"I heard someone screaming," Merlin said urgently. "It woke me, it was so loud. Then it stopped, and it sounded like someone else was…laughing," he said with a shudder.

Gaius threw off his blankets and went to the window.

It was a warm clear night; the stars shone brightly in the sky. All of Camelot was peaceful, save for the tolling bell which announced it was one o'clock.

"Merlin, the guards haven't been summoned. No one looks distressed at all. Are you sure you didn't dream it?" Gaius asked, trying to be rational.

"I know I didn't!" Merlin exclaimed. "You don't understand, Gaius! That screaming….It sounded as if someone was in pain, and the laughter was so cruel. I didn't imagine it," he said desperately, getting more agitated by the minute.

"Alright, Merlin, calm down," Gaius said softly, holding out a hand for peace.

"Camelot sleeps soundly. I'm sure if there is a problem, we'll hear about it in the morning," he said with a huge yawn.

"It is morning," Merlin said, a little sulkily.

"Go back to bed, Merlin," Gaius called, already walking back to his room.

Merlin sighed and went back to his room. He laid down on his bed, but found he could not sleep. The idea of hearing that screaming again was terrifying, and he wanted to be awake if it happened. The laughter had been inhuman, viciously cruel and inconceivably wicked.

Something about the evil sound crept in through the cracks of your mind, slipped through your defenses while you were unaware. Forcing its way through until it filled everything with a dark hatred, until you knew nothing and were nothing except the darkness that filled you. The darkness was everywhere, high and mocking. It was full of pain and cruelty and deep betrayal and an unbearable sense of isolation-

"Merlin!"

Merlin jerked awake and realized it was morning. Gaius peeked his head through the door.

"You'll be late to Arthur's chambers," he warned. Merlin fell heavily back into bed, feeling completely drained although he had just woken up. With a growing feeling of unease, he remembered the events of that night, and quickly got up.

Hurriedly throwing on clothes, he rushed out and past Gaius, intent on getting to Arthur's chambers.

"Aren't you forgetting breakfast?" Gaius called after him.

"No time, sorry!" Merlin yelled back, already halfway down the path to the courtyard.

Gaius raised an eyebrow and went back to his porridge.

Merlin ran all the way to Arthur's chambers and opened the door, completely out of breath. Surprisingly, Arthur was already awake and fully dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed with thin morning sunlight leaking through the window.

"Are you alright, sire?" Merlin asked tentatively. Arthur looked terrible; he had dark circles under his eyes and looked pale.

"Yes, I'm fine, Merlin," he answered dismissively. "I didn't sleep well, is all."

"Oh. Was there…anything in particular that kept you up?" Merlin asked, trying not to be too obvious.

Arthur looked at him oddly. "No," he answered shortly, not wanting to remember his dreams.

"Right," Merlin mumbled, dropping his eyes to the ground.

"I have to get down to the Hall," Arthur said, moving to get up. "Father requests my presence this morning."

Merlin thought he detected a slight grimace on Arthur's face, but chose not to comment, instead only opening the door for his master. Everyone had their duties, their orders. Even Arthur, he thought with a rush of empathy.

"I want you to clean my room before you join us in the Hall," Arthur said, turning to look at his servant. Merlin looked around the room in disbelief. Laundry was strewn everywhere, loose papers and books lined the table and floor. To top it off, he could see that the floors needed to be mopped from the dirt Arthur's boots had tracked in.

"All this?" he asked incredulously.

"If that's a problem, I can find something else for you to do," Arthur said quietly. An offer, a threat. Merlin sensed the hidden aggression behind the statement and wisely stayed silent, instead giving a short bow to Arthur. The young prince then walked away, closing the door behind him.

Merlin sighed and began gathering up clothing.

Arthur's head nodded, dangerously close to falling asleep. His hand was propped under his chin, and he was seated in his chair behind the King's throne in the Main Hall. The people of Camelot were in a long line in front of the throne, asking the King several questions about the town, its business, the continued rules and procedures, et cetera.

Normally, the young man found these experiences tolerable, if not enjoyable. It showed him what he would have to do to command respect someday, and gave him an idea of the inner politics involved in ruling a kingdom.

After his restless night, however, Arthur found himself struggling just to stay awake. The line of people slowly moved forward, one nameless face after another.

"What do you think, my son?" Uther asked, startling Arthur out of his stupor. Arthur looked to his father and saw a slightly disapproving look.

"Forgive me, Father. I failed to hear the last request," Arthur said, sitting up straighter. He knew it was better to admit mistakes than to try and blunder his way through them.

Uther gave his son a small, rare smile. "Courage, Arthur," he murmured encouragingly. "It's almost over."

Arthur stayed alert, waiting for the next person in line to state their grievance. Suddenly, a horrible, ear-splitting shriek filled the hall.

Arthur jumped up and drew his sword reflexively, as did all of the knights present. Arthur whirled around, feeling the adrenaline sing through his fatigued form. He turned slowly and scanned the hall with his eyes trying to discern the source of the noise. He could see the tension in the lines of his knights' postures.

Uther alone remained composed. He stood, but did not draw his sword.

"Guards," he said calmly. "Go outside and patrol the perimeter. Report back at once."

Two guards bowed and quickly left the hall.

A few moments after leaving, the doors burst open violently, and the two guards flew back in, as if thrown. They landed at the king's feet, and Arthur saw immediately that they were dead. Their sightless eyes gaped in surprise and their skin was mottled gray and black in some places, as if burned.

Arthur swallowed his revulsion and looked up as two beings entered the Hall, walking slowly.

Arthur struggled to focus on their incorporeal shapes; they seemed not to have solid shape or structure. The creatures were a deep bluish-black color with an occasional flash of muted green showing as the shape of the beings changed again. They didn't so much walk as flow from one place or another, crossing the large floor of the hall in a few deceptively small movements.

Time seemed to stand still as they approached the king's throne. No one moved. Arthur froze, scarcely breathing. The beings stopped forward motion, but never stopped moving. They seemed to be perpetually collapsing and reforming into themselves, creating new forms and shapes every time. Arthur blinked hard and had to force himself to look away; they were mesmerizing.

Uther stood tall and proud, displaying none of his inner feelings.

"Why have you come here?" he asked in a clear, demanding voice. The ethereal figures remained silent.

"Speak!" Uther commanded harshly, eyes glinting coldly.

In response, one of the beings chuckled, a deep throaty sound that set Arthur's teeth on edge and made his muscles tense involuntarily. Several of the younger knights swore and readjusted the grip on their swords nervously.

"Uther….Pendragon," one of the beings said in a voice that reminded Arthur of wet branches scraping across a frozen river, sending chills up his spine.

If Uther was surprised, he showed none of it as he answered calmly, "I will not tolerate this in my castle. Get out," he told the creatures boldly.

"We have waited…so very long for this, Uther….Pendragon," the other being intoned. Uther's gaze turned to the second creature who had spoken, and froze.

"You….do not recognize us, Pendragon?" the monster mocked. "What about this?"

With that, Arthur saw the facial region of the creature blur slightly. The features shifted and stretched grotesquely, giving the impression of a face forming from melted wax. Arthur was slightly disgusted, but couldn't look away. As the face changed into something bearing slightly feminine characteristics, strange, distressed noises began coming from the creature. Finally, its head snapped back to face Uther.

"No, I beg of you, please!" the thing wailed in a woman's voice, so real it made the hair stand up on the back of Arthur's neck.

Uther stood in shock, mouth slightly agape.

The creature's face shifted again, this time into a man with a flat, broad face. The voice changed again, deeper:

"Please, my Lord, please spare me. I've a wife, children to feed! I haven't done it! It wasn't me! It wasn't—"

The last plea was cut disturbingly short as the thing began to laugh again, deep guttural laughing that came from pure, undeniable insanity.

Arthur's clenched jaw ached, and he could feel himself shaking as he fought to stay calm.

Uther drew himself up, but looked pale. "What do you want?" he asked them quietly.

"Revenge," the first monster asked, shifting its face to that of a young boy's. "Retribution," said the second, now with the face of an old crone.

"Reparation for all the death and misery—"the first being started.

"And pain and suffering your cursed rule has caused in Camelot, Uther Pendragon," the second finished.

"We want payment for all the ones you have wronged. For all the injustice in your vile name. The death can only be repaid with others. Only then will the balance be restored," the beings said in perfect unison, making Arthur's skin crawl.

"We do not forgive, and we do not forget. Payment has come, Uther Pendragon. The price is steep, this time. Steeper than even you can imagine," they finished, eerily laughing in disturbing simultaneity.

One of the knights, pushed past his breaking point, yelled, took aim, and pulled the trigger on his crossbow. The arrow did not pass through the creature as Arthur half-expected it to, but instead was slowed and then gently pulled into the middle of the creature.

Cracking, crunching noises where heard as the thing contorted horrifyingly, bending itself almost completely in half. The arrow shards suddenly shot back out of the monster faster than Arthur's eye could follow. The young knight fell to the floor, pieces of arrow shaft embedded in his eyes and chest.

Arthur looked back at the creatures, terrified.

At that moment, the doors to the hall creaked slightly as Merlin slipped quietly through them, unaware of what was happening.

Arthur connected gazes with his confused manservant, pleading with his eyes that Merlin run, that he get help, send someone to help them all get out of this.

Merlin's boots stuttered to a halt on the rich stone floor of the hall, gazing in shock at the creatures facing Uther.

Both of the monsters' head suddenly whipped around unnaturally, heads turned completely around to face the young prince. Arthur gulped, and the things started laughing at him. He fought the urge to scream with a feeling akin to panic. He dully recognized the horrible noise from his nightmares.

"So you are the chosen one?" one of the monsters asked, almost sounding amused. "The one who will save all of Camelot and unite Albion? Your name is echoed throughout the Halls of Prophecy, little one," its twin said. They began together:

"We have seen the writing, heard the tales ringing true throughout time. As long as there is evil and injustice in the world, we will always exist. You cannot stop us. We are inevitable as time itself. We have always been, and always will be."

Arthur felt his legs growing weak as the creatures stared at him. It felt as if all his energy was draining out of him and feeding directly into the monsters that stood before him.

Quick as a flash, suddenly they were standing in front of him. Arthur barely had time to blink before one reached out and grabbed his forearm. He grunted in pain as the touch was unbearably cold, seeming to freeze him to the very bone. His sword slipped from nerveless fingers, clanging loudly on the floor. The monster's twin grabbed his other arm, and the young prince fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer.

Dimly, he could hear Merlin shouting something, but he was too caught up in the cold. Underneath that, there was something else, a burning, white-hot rage drawn out over eons of time, never completely satisfied. It was constantly longing for something more, forever hungry.

Deep feelings of betrayal and retribution and rage passed through Arthur's mind, transmitted through the monsters. He tried to hold onto his own thoughts and ideas, but lost himself to the cold wind of bleak anger and undeniable pain. Keening and wailing over a lifeless prairie, he was the black wind, and the black wind was him. The wind swirled all around and inside him, and then finally, the contact stopped and he fell into blessed silence.