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Chapter 8

Gwen stared in horror as her fear was confirmed. Everyone took defensive positions, Gwaine and Leon drawing their swords.

Uther glowered at them with Arthur's features. "Stand down," he barked. "I am the king."

"Not our king," Gwaine snarled.

Uther drew his blade, but before he could use it, Lancelot spun a whip of light that lashed around the sword and wrenched it out of his hand. Elyan wove a coil of light and snapped it around Uther's wrists, then solidified it into a pair of joined shackles.

"How dare you?!" Uther raged.

Gwaine and Leon moved in to seize him, and Percival yanked the king's cloak off his shoulders and quickly covered the glowing manacles so they wouldn't draw attention in the dark.

"Arthur," Gwen called. "Can you hear me in there?"

Uther snorted. "Arthur is gone. Forever."

Gwen shook her head fiercely. "Arthur, if you can hear me, you have to fight him."

Uther smirked. "Arthur isn't here anymore. He's in the Veil."

Gwen's eyes widened in renewed horror.

Leon gave Uther a rough shake. "How?"

This time Uther didn't have a sharp reply.

Gwaine lifted his sword and placed the edge of the blade to his neck. "You will tell us," he threatened.

Uther scoffed. "Or what? You'll slit my- I mean Arthur's- throat?"

Gwaine pressed the blade more firmly against flesh, making Uther hiss as it drew blood. "If Arthur is truly in the Veil, then he's dead, and I'll just be carving up a walking corpse."

Uther's eyes narrowed, but he held his silence. Gwaine didn't move. After several tense moments, Uther's lips twitched upward; he had called Gwaine's bluff.

"You can't bring yourself to throw away your only chance of restoring Arthur," he said smugly. "Even though it's not possible to reverse the transfer."

Gwen's chest tightened, constricting her lungs.

"Not through magic," Lancelot spoke up. "But we know another way to remove a soul from its body."

She furrowed her brows in confusion before she remembered. When she'd fallen into the Veil, her soul had been ripped from her body. But her friends had found a way to come find her and reunite the two. All they had to do was go into the Veil with Uther, find Arthur, and then force the usurper out there.

"You're right," she said. "Let's go."

Uther's expression faltered; he had no idea what they intended to do. Even so, he resisted as Gwaine and Leon pushed him along. They retrieved the horses but continued on foot.

"What was your plan, anyway?" Gwaine asked disdainfully. "You had to know escaping the Veil wasn't going to save you from the demon."

Uther scowled derisively. "You were supposed to prevent it from escaping. That was why I warned you."

"It only escaped because you sent us to find it and it was able to feed on our powers," Elyan snapped. "If it weren't for you, it wouldn't have gained the strength to break through."

Gwen didn't contradict her brother. While their attempt to thwart the demon had achieved the exact opposite, she suspected it would have broken through into their world eventually. Just, perhaps not for several months or years. So, in a way, Elyan was still right that Uther had caused this. The end of the world, again.

Uther snorted. "This new light magic is weak compared to the powers of old."

"The powers you destroyed," Gwaine said pointedly.

They found a Rift, the tattered edges of the world flickering like smoke. The other side wasn't visible from this end, but Gwen knew what was there. The cold, the darkness. The screams. Her heart clenched with the knowledge that Arthur was in there somewhere, had been for days. She remembered the spirits that had tried to drag her away to some unknown torment, and she dreaded Arthur falling victim to the same.

"We had an anchor last time," Lancelot said.

The four Lightspinners looked at each other.

"I'll do it," Percival volunteered.

"A second should stay as well," Gwen said, her stomach tightening. "In case the demon comes."

Lancelot looked nervous but said, "It should be me. My griffin can at least fly and lead the demon away if necessary. Buy the rest of you time."

Gwen's throat constricted but she nodded; he was right. Which left her and Elyan to venture into the realm of the dead. "Just the two of us, then."

"I went last time," Gwaine spoke up. "I'll come again. Keep him in line."

Gwen nodded and turned to Leon last.

"I'll stay here," he said. "The demon isn't the only threat."

Uther's eyes widened as he finally began to understand their plan. He swung his bound arms up and back to slam into Gwaine's face, knocking him back. He then tried to wrench away from Leon and make a run for it, but Percival spun a rope of light that shot out low and tripped Uther, sending him sprawling in the dirt. Percival quickly morphed the rope into a longer piece, winding it around Uther's arms and chest tightly. Gwaine strode over and yanked the man to his feet.

"Nothing can stop the demon," Uther spat. "We're all going to die and end up in the Veil soon enough."

"Gag him," Gwen ordered.

"With pleasure," Gwaine replied. He tore a strip of Uther's shirt—well, Arthur's shirt—and shoved it between Uther's teeth, then knotted it in the back. The man snarled and squirmed in rage.

Gwen and Elyan spun ropes of light to bind themselves to Uther and Gwaine, anchoring it to Percival's. Then they made the daring foray through the Rift into the land of the dead.

The whoosh of passing into the Veil stole the air from Gwen's lungs, and she jolted with terror as she felt the familiar pull that had once torn her spirit from her body. But the light held steady, pulsing in an aura around her and keeping her grounded. The barren landscape stretched out into darkness in all directions. Gwen summoned up her light horse, and Elyan's wolf emerged as well.

"Now what?" her brother asked.

Gwen wasn't sure. The Veil was vast, and Arthur could be anywhere. They could potentially send their light animals out to try to track him down…but how would they be able to tell him apart from any other lost soul in this place?

"What's that?" Gwaine asked.

They turned to see what he was looking at. A bracelet on Uther's wrist was emitting its own aura in pale orange.

"Did that come from the vault?" Elyan queried.

Gwaine grabbed Uther's arms and raised them so they could see the bracelet better. "One of those relics of the old magic?"

Gwen frowned, something niggling at her. Arthur had been wearing that before the mirror was broken, she was certain. But it was new, and she didn't know where he had gotten it. "I think you're right, and I'm willing to bet that's the magical artifact Uther used to switch places with Arthur."

Said man seethed at her through the gag.

"Why is it glowing?" Gwaine asked.

"Do you think it's still tied to Arthur?" Elyan echoed.

"Let us hope," Gwen replied. She grabbed Uther's arm and began to slowly turn him in a circle. When the gemstone pulsed brighter, she stopped, and the light remained steadily brighter, like a beacon pointing the way.

She looked at Elyan and Gwaine; they had no better place to start. And so they set off into the barrens in search of their friend and rightful king.

Freya sat in the bowels beneath the city, slumped against a cold, dank wall. Merlin's head was cradled in her lap, her hand still linked with his and softly glowing. Her fingers and palm had long ago gone numb; she couldn't even feel the warmth of her own light.

All around them, people were huddled together, silent and downtrodden in the face of such colossal destruction. Gaius was tending to the injured. Freya realized she had no idea if anyone had died in the attack. And here she was, clinging to someone who by all rights had died more than a day ago. But she couldn't let go. Merlin was the first boy she had ever loved, and she couldn't bear to lose him.

He's already lost, a small voice whispered.

And her brother…Lancelot and the others were off on a mission to save the rest of them. Shouldn't Freya have gone with them? She could be helping in any number of ways rather than languishing away here, clinging to lost hope. What would Merlin have wanted her to do?

She was so tired and drained at this point, though, that despite the discomfort of her position, she nodded off. And then she was back in that hazy dream, surrounded by mist.

"Freya."

She turned around and there was Merlin, close enough to touch. Freya burst into tears and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back, and it felt so real, she broke down into sobs.

"I'm sorry for leaving you like this," he said.

That only made her cry harder. "I tried to bring you back, but it didn't work."

He drew back to look her in the eyes. "Yes, it did. You've kept me anchored to this world, to you. I'm not dead."

Freya furrowed her brows in confusion, then shook her head. "This is just a dream."

"Which is the only way I can speak to you." Merlin clasped her hands against his chest. "I feel your light, and it's bridging the pieces of my soul."

She continued shaking her head; for all of her yearning to see Merlin again, she couldn't bear to let herself believe a falsehood. "The demon destroyed your dragon."

"Not destroyed, consumed. And I'm here with it. In part," he amended. "And partly with you, because you kept this half of me alive." Merlin shook his head to himself. "It's complicated and confusing and I don't fully understand it myself. It's like I'm trapped in two spaces at once. I can sense things in both. Like here, with your light, and also with my dragon. It's like the Veil there, another realm, or a space within a space."

Freya's expression pinched. "You're not making sense."

"I know." But he kept squeezing her hands and it kept feeling real. "All the light the demon devours fuels it into growing bigger. It doesn't snuff it out. So my dragon's not gone, not yet."

Freya blinked the tears from her eyes, wondering if it could be true…

"It came and attacked Camelot," she told him. "It drained the crystal. There's no more shield, nothing. Lancelot, Arthur, and the others went to the Crystal Cave to get more, but, by what you're saying, that will only feed it more?"

"Exactly."

Freya stilled, suddenly wary of whether this was more than just a strange dream.

"Our light weapons can't penetrate its hide," Merlin went on. "But we can fight it from the inside."

"What do you mean?" she asked tensely.

"We let it consume everything we have, but we hold our light back. Then, from the inside, we unleash everything with full force. It- it would be like eating a poisoned capsule that has a time delay! Just ask Gaius."

Freya started to pull away. "You're suggesting we let ourselves get eaten."

"It doesn't have a stomach," Merlin pressed. "It's just another…place," he insisted. Then he grunted and staggered backward.

"Merlin?!" Freya grasped at his arms, but she felt him growing intangible, his whole body beginning to fade like the mist that surrounded them.

"It's difficult- to stay," he gritted out. "Freya, trust me, this might be our only chance…"

His voice grew faint, as did the whole of him. Freya cried out and tried to hold on, tried to pull him back to her. But it was futile. He vanished like a mirage, and in the next moment, she woke with a start, Merlin's name stuck in the back of her throat.

Gaius hurried over. "Freya? Are you all right?"

She nodded jerkily and looked down at Merlin, still lax and pale.

Gaius turned his attention to him for a brief moment, then sighed sadly at her. "Freya, Merlin wouldn't want you to kill yourself holding onto him like this when it won't change anything."

She swallowed hard but didn't respond. Kill herself…that was exactly what the Merlin in her dream had advocated. And not just her, but all of the Lightspinners. It was insane and stupid and utterly untrustworthy.

…But what if he was right? What if this could work? What did they really have to lose except a more prolonged decline toward death and extinction?

She dropped her gaze to his wan face and lifted her other hand to brush his cheek. That dream Merlin had felt real. He'd said he could feel her light; well, she could feel his.

She knew how crazy she would sound if she brought this to everyone. The ramblings of a distraught, disturbed girl desperately cradling someone they had all written off as dead. But as fragile as hope was and so easily shattered, all it took was a spark to light it into a relentless fire.

And she would rather go out in a blaze than a whisper.