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Ryll didn't need to encourage Owl to run. The mare took off in fright, abandoning all her training as the crows took after them. Ryll let her run, trusting the small mare to weave her way around prickly bushes and fallen trees. Ryll looked back and saw that the crows were multiplying, flying through the branches of the trees with much more ease than Owl's frantic flight. Suddenly a branch loomed up before them. Ryll ducked just in time but then Owl leapt over a thick fallen tree, landing hard. Ryll had one hand on the reins and the other on her bow and was unsettled by the hard land. Owl took a sharp turn and Ryll fell from the saddle, tucking into the roll to land smoothly. She landed under the wide roots of a tree and lay on her stomach as still as she could, bow pressed uncomfortably underneath her. The birds swooshed past like a cloud of black bodies and Ryll closed her eyes, willing it to be over. Suddenly the sound of hundreds of crows hitting the ground could be heard. One landed next to her hand and she screamed. Peering out of the shelter of the roots, Ryll saw that the ground was littered in dead crows.

Breathing hard, Ryll crawled out of the roots and stood looking around her. Every crow was dead. Their wings were bent and broken and their beady black eyes stared blankly up at her. Had she done this? Ryll started to panic, swaying as her breath quickened and the blood rushed to her head. No, she couldn't have done this. She couldn't have killed a hundred crows just because she wanted them gone. She stumbled away from the carnage, heading east. She kept running until the sky had filled with the sun and midday passed. She had hoped that she would find Owl. The mare was usually able to find her if they were separated, but the birds had frightened her more than anything she'd ever seen before. Who knew how far she'd run before slowing? Ryll slowed to a walk and stumbled on until night fell. She had no idea where she was and her feet ached. All her food and water had been attached to Owl's saddle. She found a patch of berries and ate them for dinner, but the lake was far away now and there was no water to be found. She curled up in the shelter of some bushes, shivering without her blanket. As she tried to fall asleep, she wished she was back in Camelot and wondered what Merlin was doing just then. Little did she know that Camelot was in chaos and things were already being set in motion. Her fate was sliding into place and betrayal was imminent.

…

Merlin lay crouched in the undergrowth overlooking the camp. His heart was heavy as he watched Morgana approach a boy and a man. The boy called out her name and threw himself in her arms. Merlin knew him well. It was Mordred, the young druid he and Morgana had helped once before, the one Kilgharrah warned him was dangerous. Merlin knew that he wasn't the only dangerous one. Morgana's hatred for Uther had become dangerous. Merlin wasn't sure how far she would go anymore. She'd lied to Arthur before and hidden the two in her room. Clearly she would do anything to help Mordred even if it meant betraying Uther. Merlin was afraid that she was too far-gone. She wasn't going to forgive Uther. Merlin watched her exchange with the man. Clearly his charisma had her convinced that she needed to help him because she handed the stolen Crystal to him without a moment's hesitation. He'd had his suspicions, but he had hoped that he was mistaken when he'd caught Morgana in Arthur's chambers the day the Crystal had been stolen. Clearly she'd taken the keys.

He watched until Morgana left the camp. After she had gone, a woman came out of one of the tents and kissed Alvarr, the warlock Morgana had been speaking with.

"You played her well," the woman said.

"It was not hard," Alvarr replied. Merlin frowned. Clearly there was more behind this than Morgana knew. Her hatred for Uther and loneliness in her power caused her to bring down her guard. She was too quick to trust because in a battle between magic and Uther, she would never pick Uther's side.

He took the chance to slip away from the camp and back to Camelot. Where was Ryll? She had been gone for weeks now. If anyone could convince Morgana that she wasn't doing the right thing, it was her. Somehow he felt as if Morgana had already slipped out of their grasp.

…

Ryll awoke to the sound of voices and the muted rush of a waterfall. She wasn't cold any longer, she realized. She'd been so cold when she'd fallen asleep without a blanket the night before. A fire crackled nearby. She sat up with a jolt.

"Easy," a voice said next to her. She turned to see a young man with dark hair and liquid green eyes. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Who are you and how did I get here?" Ryll asked. She noticed a mark on the man's collar where his tunic gaped open. It was a druid's symbol. She remembered the men before and shrunk back.

"My name is Byron. My people and I mean you no harm. We're druids. We found you freezing out in the forest and brought you here."

"Thank you," Ryll said. "I'm Amaryllis, but you can call me Ryll. I'm sorry for being so jumpy. I was beset upon by a group of men that called themselves the Brotherhood of the Elements."

She saw Byron exchange a worried glance with one of the other druids in the cave. "They are not good people," he said.

"I got that when they were threatening me with a knife," she said.

"They threatened you? Why?" Byron asked.

"I wish I knew," Ryll lied. "Maybe I was trespassing on their land."

"Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere if you don't mind us asking," one of the older men asked.

"I was looking for someone," Ryll said. "Now I'm on my way home to Camelot."

Their faces shadowed at the mention of Camelot. "You are loyal to Uther," Byron said, his tone distasteful.

"No. Well, I suppose. I'm friends with Arthur and his ward Morgana, but Uther and I have very little in common when it comes to how we think of the world. I wish that things would change."

"Then you won't go off and tell him where we are?" Byron said, still distrustful.

"No, of course not. You helped me. I would never betray you. I don't believe you're doing anything wrong. You were born with magic. That's no crime."

"You are very different from most to think so," Byron said.

"Maybe I have a magic of my own," Ryll said.

"You do?"

"I'm still learning," Ryll told him truthfully. "I think…" She hesitated but Byron seemed the type of person she could trust. "I think I knocked out the Brotherhood and then killed their crows. I was in a tight spot and was so angry when suddenly the men flew backward and were knocked out against trees. Then the crows came after me. I-I wanted them to stop chasing me and suddenly they all fell from the sky and died."

Byron contemplated her words. "That sounds as if whatever magic you may possess is lashing out to protect you."

"It would seem that way. I don't know who I am anymore."

"Well for now you're our guest. You must be starving. You didn't have any provisions. Just a bow which I've set just there." He motioned next to her.

"I did have a horse but she ran off when the crows started chasing us. I fell off," she added with slight embarrassment.

"We can go out to look for her later," Byron suggested. "She can't have gone too far. We have horses here we can take out."

"Alright."

"First let's eat some breakfast." He led her over to the fire pit where several of the druids were cooking up sausage and toast. The smell made Ryll's stomach growl.

"Thank you for taking me in," she said. "I expected a cold morning and an empty stomach. And I wasn't too sure how I was going to get back to Camelot without a horse or food or water or a blanket. Normally she doesn't bolt, but those crows weren't natural – not the way they chased after us."

"The Brotherhood is known for its affiliation with crows."

"Who are they exactly?" Ryll asked, accepting a plate of toast and sausage and a glass of milk. Byron accepted another plate and they went to sit.

"They're an order of men who believe that they were born with the divine right to decide the world's fate. They possess a scrying stone that allows them to see into the future. They are always trying to change what they do not agree with."

"Do they possess magic?" Ryll asked.

"A weak magic. They have few abilities and none of them very useful. They resent those with strong magic. They believe it is their divine right to have power, not us, not anyone. Perhaps they knew you had magic?"

"Perhaps." He seemed to sense that she was hiding something but did not ask further. Ryll appreciated that. She wasn't about to go telling just anyone that she was destined to save Arthur Pendragon's life. "So you live in this cave?" Ryll asked. "I suppose you can't be out in the open while Uther is king."

"No. We are not welcome in his kingdom. We hide here." His voice was bitter.

"I'm sorry. I've seen what Uther's hatred can do."

"But yet you are close to his son and ward. He obviously does not know you have magic."

"No. I'm not even sure what it is I have. It just started happening yesterday."

"Sometimes fear or anger can trigger untrained magic. Not all magic appears when one is young. It could be that your magic is just now emerging."

"That sounds likely."

"If you stay here, I could help you learn to control it."

Ryll smiled. "I can stay awhile, but I need to get back to Camelot."

"Why? What's in Camelot?"

"My friends. It's my home."

"Where you have to hide who you truly are."

"Still… I can't abandon my friends. Sometimes we have to fight our battles close to the enemy. I think I can do a lot of good in Camelot. Arthur isn't his father. Eventually he will take over his father's throne and things will change."

"You sound sure of that." Byron looked doubtful.

"I am. I know him."

"What exactly is your standing there? Are you a lady of the court?" he asked, looking cautious and yet somehow teasing.

"Hardly," Ryll said with a snort. "Well, technically I have a title, but I've pushed my luck with Uther a few too many times to really be considered a lady of the court."

"I had kind of guessed by the way you're dressed and miles from home." Byron smirked. "Can you shoot that thing?" He nodded to her bow.

"Would you like to see?" she asked, smiling.

"I would. Then maybe we can go look for your missing mare."

They left the cave together, Ryll grabbing her bow and quiver as they went. There was a narrow path that led around the stream of water from the waterfall and they avoided getting wet.

"Do you always live here or do you move around?" Ryll asked, glancing back at the cave. She could see how it was a safe place to camp – the entrance was shaded and well hidden in the dense undergrowth. The water itself was a natural barrier.

"We move from time to time."

"It must be hard not having one constant place to call home. I know how that is. I was on the move most of my life."

"You said you had a title though. Why would you ever need to travel around?"

"Because my parents died when I was a child and I didn't know who I was until very recently. I thought I was just an orphan. I couldn't even remember my childhood until I came to Camelot. I grew up on the streets and fell in with the wrong people. I nearly died a few times. Then I came to Camelot. It was the first place I'd really felt at home."

"Did Uther really take you under his wing? I can't see him doing that for anyone."

"He did for Morgana. But no, it was more that he let me stay. I saved Morgana's life. And Arthur's. I was tolerated until I made one two many mistakes. I was banished. But he allowed me to come back. For Morgana's sake, not my own."

"And now you're far from home."

"It was something personal I needed to do," she said softly.

"I didn't mean to pry," Byron said quickly.

"It's alright. Now, did you want to see me shoot?" She drew an arrow, notching it and pulling back before he answered. She shot straight in the middle of a tree trunk fifty yards away. "Believe me now?" she asked.

"I've never seen anyone shoot like that," Byron said, clearly impressed.

"I practice a lot. I had to in order to survive."

"You've had a rough life."

"As have you. You shouldn't have to hide who you are. I swear things will be different when Arthur is king. They have to be."

…

Morgana left the Council Chamber, refusing to look back. Red, hot anger flared and she could hardly see where she was going. She didn't care if she'd crossed a line. Of course she had, but Uther needed to hear it. She thought of her last words to him after he'd told her to go to her chamber. And you, Uther, you will go to hell. Death would be too good for him. If he knew what she could do then he would not hesitate to kill her. It didn't matter if she had never used her power for ill. In his eyes she was an abomination. No amount of love for her would make him see differently. Love. She almost laughed. She hated him and after what she had said to him, she doubted that he loved her.

Uther Pendragon was a curse to this world and if she was ever going to be safe in it then he needed to die. She thought about the time she'd nearly let him be assassinated. She'd had a moment of weakness, of sentiment, but that had all passed now. She should have let him die. She felt no compassion for him anymore. If the chance came again, she would not hesitate this time. She'd hold the knife herself if she had to.

Something had changed in her. She realized this when she reached her room. All she could feel was hatred and built up anger and frustration. She had spent months frightened that someone was going to learn about her magic. Those months would turn into years and still nothing would change. She would be frightened and living in fear. She thought of Alvarr locked away in the castle's dungeon awaiting his execution all because he defied Uther. How was that so wrong when everything Uther did deserved defiance? Morgana had already made up her mind. When Gwen came into her room to help her into bed, she asked for a sleep tonic. She had been having nightmares again, she told Gwen. After her maid left, she dressed quickly, tucking the tonic away in her pocket and leaving her room. She was going to set Alvarr free.