Chapter 6

Warning/s: weird stuff because i'm slightly feverish

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: I am extremely ill and please just let me die

The whirlwind made Merlin feel nauseous this time, and he retched as he landed. He coughed up nothing and then clambered to his feet shakily, looking around himself. It was the same white space, but this time shelves towered above him and spread all around, making Merlin feel claustrophobic. They were filled with pottery, jars and bowls and plates, and each item was bursting with food of some kind.

The Crops Reaper emerged from behind one of the shelves, her bony feet clacking on the floor and her talons twitching as she muttered to herself. She caught sight of Merlin, who felt very small and inadequate at that moment, and froze. Then she snapped her break together and asked him, "What do you want?"

"For you to stop taking so much," Merlin replied hoarsely. He was holding the curved sword in his hand still but it seemed useless against this creature. She was so skinny that there was barely any flesh on her; Merlin could tell already that the tasks were going to get increasingly harder.

"I need it," the Crops' Reaper croaked. She tapped her beak nervously. "I cannot let them get the better of me again. I must have food." Apparently judging Merlin to be only a minor threat, if that, she turned back to counting her supplies and murmuring nonsensical words to herself.

Merlin gripped the sword in his hand and steeled himself. Chopping off part of her flesh would be easy enough, but feeding it to her? That was the part that Merlin couldn't figure out. She seemed to resemble a bird in all ways but one; where there should be wings, there were two small stumps of flesh, raw red and bumpy with pus-filled blemishes. They were probably Merlin's best bet for slicing off – he could sneak up on her as well, when her back was facing him.

He swallowed nervously. He knew what this creature was doing was wrong and corrupted, but the idea of making her commit cannibalism, not just on her own species but on herself for that matter, made Merlin want to physically retch. Still, it was something that had to be done. If not for this strange, ethereal world, so he could get back to Camelot and to his destiny.

Gulping down his nerves, Merlin crept towards the skeletal, avian-like being. Arthur accused him of being noisy whenever they went on hunts, but really he was purposely creating warnings for the animals. He could be silent when he needed to be, just like now.

He raised his sword as soon as he was within five strides of the beast, and then before his nerves could fail him, he swung down with the curved blade and neatly cut through the lump of flesh and burns and boils. The creature squawked but didn't bleed; she turned around, glaring at Merlin and hissing, and swiped at him with a claw. He dodged it narrowly, dropping to the floor and grabbing the part of her that had fallen to the floor.

He had to fight to hold back his vomit as he grabbed it, and rolled out of the way of yet another of her swipes and stumbled to his feet unsteadily, clutching the flesh to his chest protectively. His main thought was just to get away, so he scrambled behind the nearest shelf and ran in and out, weaving through the maze. At first, the Reaper pursued him, but after a while she seemingly gave up or tired, and Merlin was able to rest.

About to actually throw up the little food in his stomach, Merlin dropped his package and took in deep breaths. It was no use; he vomited as quietly as he could to the side, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished.

Now he faced the next main problem: how in the name of Camelot was he going to feed it to her?

Taking a moment to recover himself, still feeling slightly nauseated, Merlin eyed the lump in front of him. There was no way he would eat that, however well cooked and pleasantly presented it was to him. But the Crops' Reaper wasn't human, despite eating human foods, so perhaps in her desperation to eat and store food she would take whatever she was given – that was what Merlin hoped, anyway.

He had spied a bowl sitting on the floor when he first came in, unlike the others which were on the shelves, and in it was some kind of wheat-coloured powder, almost as if she had ground up some of the stolen food to eat. Maybe if he could tear her flesh into small pieces, and find a way to slip it into the bowl, she would eat it, not being aware of what she was doing.

But what if she had to be aware of what she was doing? What if that was the point of all this; she had to be disgusted enough to stop, so by that logic, surely she would have to know what she had done. Which put Merlin back to square one.

After a few minutes of thought, Merlin decided on his plan. He would go with his original idea of slipping in the meat, but when she ate it, he would emerge from the shadows, tell her what she was eating, and that would be enough to shock her into stopping her crimes. He hoped, anyway. He sighed as he gingerly picked up the lump of her flesh again. This was only the second task and it nearly had him stumped.

Navigating his way back through the bookshelves blindly, Merlin noticed that some of the food she had stored was rotting away. Bluey-green lumps of mould were growing on both the plants and the meat, and some of the older specimens were greying as well. It stank of decay.

With that new motivation, Merlin jogged through the labyrinth of shelves, holding his jacket sleeve to his nose to mask the stink. His other hand was holding the disgusting meal that the Crops' Reaper would soon be enjoying. If that was the right words for it.

Finally, he came to the exit – or entrance, depending on your perspective – and peered round the corner pensively. Seeing the Reaper with her back to him, and standing a fair few strides away from the bowl, Merlin took his chance. Fighting the urge to vomit again, he tore of a few thin strips of meat and tossed them into the bowl, mixing them around with his hand to disguise them amongst the other substances. Then, quick as a whip, he dashed back behind the shelf to hide, but ready to reveal himself as soon as he needed to.

He had to wait for what seemed like hours before the creature finally stopped doing whatever she was doing – writing in a book, most likely some form of accounting for all of her goods – and turned around to eat more food. Greedily, she scooped up large portions with her claw-like hands, her talons spearing some of the hardier substances, and stuffed it into her mouth.

Merlin took his chance once she had swallowed five or six handfuls. "Crops' Reaper," he called out, his mouth suddenly uncomfortably dry. The creature spun around, hissing at him and glaring, and crouched as if she was about to pounce.

"What did you just eat?" Merlin cried out, unconsciously backing up a few steps and clutching the sword a little tighter. "I added a little something."

The Reaper glared at him, and for a second Merlin worried that she would pay no heed to his words. But then she bent down, her spine prominent through the paper-thin skin on her back, and rummaged through the remainder of the food. She came up with a handful of dusty crops, decayed meat, and one single strip of her own flesh. At first, she examined the foreign substance curiously, and then caught sight of the pus-filled boils on one side of it, and the strange green tinge on the other side.

Her reaction was instant; she fell to her knees and shrieked in a pitch so high it hurt Merlin's ears, and a flood of tears erupted from her eyes. "I have done so much wrong," she said, and all of a sudden her voice was much clearer and more pleasant to listen to, and her form began to change until she was no longer wizened and crippled but strong and proud. Still she cried and clutched at herself, overcome by the horrors of what she had done.

Merlin wondered whether he had succeeded when a whirlwind appeared yet again, whisking him away and back to Erran, who was projecting his happiness into Merlin's mind for him. You have completed the task, it said to him gratefully. Would you like a minute to prepare for the next one?

Merlin shook his head. "I'd rather just keep going," he said truthfully. If he paused for even a second, he feared his willpower would crack and he wouldn't be able to carry on.

Erran inclined its head and spoke to him telepathically. Very well, Emrys. And he was lost again in the lilac dust.

A/N: my dog keeps trying to lick my belly button is this normal behaviour? also please review because it might make me feel like life is worth living even with this influenza shiz