Over the next several days, Avalon opened its gates to reveal a blend of cultures, warriors, and leaders who had come to stand alongside the explorers. The atmosphere was electric, charged with both tension and hope.
Fearless men from the Zanga village were first to answer the call. With Jarl, their trusted leader, and with Asai by his side, they made a camp near the western walls. That night, the songs and dances from Zanga Village echoed in the cool breeze.
By the morning of the second day, the powerful and fearless Amazon women arrived. Their formidable presence was immediately felt, as they methodically organized themselves, setting up camp with an efficiency that drew admiring glances. Roxton and Hippolyta exchanged respectful nods.
It was on the third day when young King Gawain, along with his trusted knights, made his entrance. Marguerite caught sight of him from afar, their brief exchange of smiles rekindling memories of past flirtations.
In the middle of all this, Marguerite's nights had turned restless. As soon as she closed her eyes, she was tormented by dreadful visions. They were eerily detailed, each more terrifying than the last. She saw Roxton in the jaws of an enormous creature, trapped under a collapsing cave, being consumed by fire, and falling into a void with no end. The sheer realism of these horrors made her wake up in cold sweat, breathless and terrified.
One morning, after a particularly distressing night, Marguerite sought solace in Abigail's chambers. "I can't go on like this," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him... John... in pain, in peril. It feels so real, Abigail."
Abigail, perceptive as always, placed a gentle hand on Marguerite's shoulder. "I feared this might happen," she began gravely. "These aren't mere dreams, Marguerite. Mordren is trying to intrude your mind."
Marguerite felt a cold dread sinking in. "How can I stop him?"
"You must strengthen your mental barriers," Abigail explained. "Do not let him in. Whenever you sense his sinister presence, focus on the love and connection you share with John. Let that be your shield."
Taking Abigail's advice to heart, Marguerite sought out the very source of her strength. She found Roxton in the gardens, sitting on a bench, adjusting the laces on his boots, seemingly readying himself for some combat practice. Without a word, she set on his lap, showering him with affectionate kisses all over his face and forehead, letting his familiar presence anchor her in the middle of a turbulent storm brewing around them.
Roxton, caught off guard but clearly delighted, chuckled softly. "What's this for?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.
"Just... because," Marguerite whispered, resting her forehead against his. "Because I needed to remind myself of the good things, the things worth fighting for."
He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And what might those be?"
She met his gaze, her eyes filled with warmth. "Us," she replied simply, "Always us."
Drawing closer, John softly replied, "Forever and always." Their lips met, sealing the unspoken promises between them.
Marguerite stood on the balcony, lost in her thoughts about the nightmares, Abigail's words, and tender moment with Roxton, trying to find solace in the serenity of the landscape before her.
A flutter of wings caught her attention. A sleek black crow, its feathers gleaming darkly, landed on the railing of the balcony. "Hello there, pretty bird," Marguerite murmured, trying to keep her voice gentle so as not to spook the creature.
The crow tilted its head, watching her with keen intelligence in its eyes. As it shifted its position, Marguerite noticed something unusual: a rolled piece of parchment was tied to its leg.
Curious, she slowly approached, extending her hand. The crow, surprisingly tame, allowed her to undo the tie and retrieve the note. Unfolding the parchment, Marguerite's face paled as she read the threatening message: "If you want him to live, meet me outside the gates of Avalon, tomorrow morning. Thread alone or face dire consequences."
The weight of the message sunk in, and a chill ran down her spine. Looking back to the crow, she found it had already taken flight, disappearing into the horizon. The gravity of her situation became very clear, and she knew she was in a dangerous game where every move counted.
The next morning, using the crowd and commotion in Avalon as a cover, Marguerite, dressed for the outdoors, discreetly made her way through. With a rifle subtly tucked by her side, she swiftly and silently slipped out of the settlement, ensuring no one saw her depart.
The jungle was thick with shadows, different from the open skies of Avalon. The sounds of insects, bird songs, and other animals filled the air, reminding Marguerite of past adventures. With each step on dried leaves or soft moss, memories of danger and narrow escapes came back.
Being in Avalon for three months had made her feel safe, and now, the jungle felt more foreign than she remembered. Sounds that used to be familiar made her pause and think. The air felt heavy and damp.
But she pushed through. She remembered the many times she had faced challenges in this jungle. She was here for a reason, and she wouldn't let the jungle's surprises stop her.
From the depths of the shadows, a dark silhouette appeared. Mordren stepped forward, his very presence radiating deep malice. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, locked onto Marguerite.
"You," Marguerite started, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief, "How are you even here? Veronica finished you. I saw it with my own eyes."
Mordren's chuckle echoed eerily. "What you witnessed was but a mere setback for me. My existence, my dear miss Smith, is beyond your mortal capacity to grasp. Death is just a door, and I have many keys."
She gritted her teeth, her fear for Roxton mixing with anger. "Enough with your cryptic games. What do you want?"
Mordren's smirk widened. "I thought the note was clear. But to simplify for your understanding: I have plans, and you play a pivotal role in them. In return, I offer the safety of your dear Roxton."
Marguerite's eyes widened slightly. "What would you have me do?"
Mordren's gaze darkened. "There's a ritual, ancient and powerful. Its origins trace back to the first settlers of Avalon. This ritual controls the very flow of the Plateau's energies. You will perform it for me."
Marguerite stiffened. "I'm already familiar with the ritual. It's meant to distribute the Plateau's energies evenly, ensuring balance."
Mordren nodded, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "Yes, but with a slight twist. Instead of directing that energy as Abigail intended, to the rightful guardian — Veronica, I want you to channel it directly to me."
She inhaled sharply, "And if I refuse?"
"You won't," Mordren replied simply. "Because refusing would mean Roxton's doom. Would you like your nightmares to become reality?"
Her mind raced, searching for a way out, trying to find a loophole in his scheme. "And if I agree, if I do this for you, how can I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain?"
Mordren's laughter echoed through the misty surroundings. "Ah, trust. A fickle thing. But know this, Marguerite, while my desires are vast, my word is bond. Do this for me, and Roxton remains untouched. Refuse, and you'll wish those nightmares were the worst of your troubles."
As Marguerite made her way back through the jungle, a resolution took root in her mind: She simply wouldn't allow Roxton out of Avalon's protective walls where Mordren's influence could reach him. If he remained within, he would be shielded from the dangers that lurked outside.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered the rustling in the bushes beside her until a raptor jumped in front of her, its menacing eyes fixed on her. Heart racing, she quickly raised her rifle, attempting to take a shot. But to her horror, the rifle jammed. The weapon was useless in her hands, leaving her exposed to the impending threat of the creature.
Just as she thought this was her end, she heard a gunshot and the creature fell down. Marguerite looked up and saw an unfamiliar woman standing poised with her own rifle, smoke slowly wafting from the barrel. She possessed a soft beauty, with light brown hair, a tad darker than blonde, cascading past her shoulders and a hint of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
The woman's attire immediately conveyed her explorer's spirit. She wore a khaki button-up shirt that was neatly tucked into high-waisted pants. The leather belt sealed around her waist had multiple pouches and tools attached, evidence of her readiness for any situation. The boots, though clearly well-traveled, were in good condition, laced up securely around her ankles.
Marguerite found her voice, even though it was shaking, "Thank you. That was a close one. Who are you?"
The woman offered her hand, "I'm Claire Carnahan," she stated calmly. As Marguerite's puzzled gaze met hers, she added, "I'm John Roxton's ex-wife."
Marguerite's eyes widened in surprise, her thoughts spinning. She had never imagined encountering Roxton's past in such a direct way, especially not in the heart of the jungle.
Claire continued, "And you must be Marguerite Krux."
Marguerite nodded, the air thickening with tension. After a moment, Claire spoke, "I have so much to tell you. There's so much you don't know. We better not waste any time."
On their way back to Avalon, Claire spoke up, her voice tinged with regret, "When you learn the truth about us, you are going to hate me."
Marguerite glanced at her, replying calmly, "If you're talking about the switch, I already know about it, and I don't hate you. It wasn't your fault. You were just a baby then."
Claire's eyebrows arched in surprise. "How did you find out?"
"Abigail told us everything," Marguerite replied.
"Ah, the mother of the protector." Claire's expression reflected a mix of relief and surprise.
Marguerite shot her a curious look. "And how do you know all of this?"
Claire let out a sigh, "That's a long story... I'll explain everything when we meet the others, so I don't have to tell it twice."
Upon reaching the gates of Avalon, Marguerite paused, her face resolute. "Before we enter, you'll need to be examined by Abigail," she stated, not taking any chances.
Claire, nodded, understanding the need for caution.
It didn't take long. Abigail quickly confirmed Claire's genuine nature and assured there was no threat from her. With a nod from Abigail, the gates slowly opened, and the three women walked in.
Inside, Roxton was in the middle of a discussion with his fellow explorers. His face displayed a range of emotions - from confusion to shock - as he saw Claire. Before he could form a coherent sentence, she ran into his arms.
"Oh, Johnny," Claire exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion, "It was so awful! You should have seen it. It was a real dinosaur." The embrace was a mix of nostalgia, surprise, and a hint of the intricate history they shared.
John, his voice choked with emotion, responded, "Claire... is it really you? How on Earth, did you get here?"
Claire pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "Yes, Johnny, it's me. And boy, are you in for a big surprise."
As the explorers settled around Claire, attentively waiting for her to speak, Veronica handed her a cup of warm tea. Claire took a moment to compose herself, then began.
"About a year ago, I was approached by a man. He was strange, mysterious, but there was something so eerily convincing about him. He introduced himself as Mordren and claimed to be my cousin. The revelation he gave me was a shocker; he told me that I was not truly the daughter of my parents. That at birth, I was switched with another girl. And I'll be honest, a part of me believed him almost instantly. All my life, I've felt out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit in. I never resembled my mother or my sister. I was always so different.
He proceeded to tell me tales of this plateau, Challenger's expedition, Veronica and her lineage as the Protector, about himself and his ancestral line and about Marguerite and her connection to Morrighan. According to him, the purpose of the switch was to ensure Marguerite grew up devoid of family love, making her more vulnerable to the pull of the dark side. But fate, it seems, went into a different direction. They hadn't anticipated that she'd meet you, John, and that the two of you would fall in love, finding happiness and disrupting their evil plans. That's why he came to me. Mordren offered a future of endless wealth, power, eternal youth, and unparalleled fortune, with just one condition — that I come here and drive a wedge between the two of you."
Finn, with her usual forwardness, jumped in first. "So, since you're telling us all of this, I reckon, you're not going forward with his plan?"
Claire shuddered, "God forbid! Once I learned the whole truth, the weight of it... I couldn't go through with it. I may not have grown up with the knowledge of the Plateau, but my heart knows right from wrong. I won't be anyone's puppet."
Challenger, rubbing his chin, spoke up, "So, Mordren's approach was to use family ties to achieve his sinister goals. It's evident he's more desperate than we imagined."
Veronica added, "It's not just desperation. He's trying to divide and conquer."
Roxton, with a hint of puzzlement, asked, "Claire, how did you find your way here?"
Claire pulled a delicate chain over her head to reveal a familiar pendant. The serpent, eating its own tail, shimmered with an uncanny light.
Marguerite's eyes widened in recognition. "Ouroborus..."
Veronica's eyes widened in shock. "But... I destroyed it," she stammered.
Abigail, always possessing knowledge beyond the ordinary, explained. "You did, Veronica. However, the ouroborus isn't just any artifact. It is a bridge between realms and an anchor to the shifting planes of reality."
Claire turned the pendant over in her hand, its intricate design seemingly undisturbed by any past trauma.
Abigail continued, "When you broke it, you severed its connection temporarily. But due to its inherent tie to the various realities, it began to mend itself on another plane. The energy explosion you caused didn't just rearrange the landmarks of this plateau; it created a ripple in the fabric of reality itself. That ripple facilitated the ouroborus's self-repair, pulling together its fragmented essence across realities."
Veronica blinked, processing the information. "So... it's indestructible? No matter what we do?"
"In a way," Abigail replied. "It's less about being unbreakable and more about its resilience. When damaged in one reality, it seeks healing in another."
As the weight of the impending battle bore down on them, combined with the perplexing revelations of the day, a hush fell over the group. Each individual retreated into the depths of their own thoughts, contemplating the challenges ahead and the intricate web of destinies that had brought them to this climactic moment in time.
The evening was washed in a soft azure glow, with stars beginning to make their presence known. Marguerite emerged onto the balcony of the common room, drawn by hushed voices. She saw Roxton and Claire, silhouetted against the dimming horizon, engrossed in conversation.
"You'd be pleased to hear about the estate, Johnny. The grounds have been kept flawlessly. And your mother, she's a force of nature as always—alive, well, and eagerly awaiting news of your return," Claire informed him, a touch of homesickness evident in his gaze.
As Marguerite approached, their conversation shifted and Caire's expression softened, "Your family awaits you, too, Marguerite. Your parents, your sister."
Roxton, concern lining his features, questioned, "And what's next for you, Claire?"
She smiled, a hint of excitement in her eyes, "I'm engaged now. To an American. We're planning to settle down in New York."
"Claire, I would hate to push you out of your own home." Marguerite voiced her concern.
Claire smiled reassuringly, "You're not pushing me out, Marguerite. I'll come and visit. I've discovered that the New World is quite to my liking. It's a fresh start for me. And I also intend to find my biological parents. Mordren said they were in the states."
Just then, Malone approached, signaling for Roxton. It was time for them to make plans and strategize. The two men departed, leaving the two women alone to speak.
Marguerite looked deep into Claire's eyes, a hint of admiration and curiosity evident. "How can you be so brave? How can you seem so unbothered by our dark heredity?"
Claire took a deep breath. There was a steady light of resolve in her eyes. "I'm not saying I'm not affected by our dark heritage. But I'm standing up to it. Mordren might be the embodiment of evil, maybe even the worst kind. But he can't overshadow the human spirit, the inner strength that's in us, that special spark. Dark forces can't take up the space in our hearts where love and joy belong. I understand who I am – made not just from Mordren's line, but from a strong, enduring kind of integrity. This inner courage and smarts, that's what keeps me safe from any evil that comes our way."
Marguerite found herself reflecting upon Claire's words long after their conversation had ended. Her own internal battle with the lineage of Morrighan had been a shadow over her for so long. The fears of being overpowered, of losing herself to a darker side, had plagued her thoughts. But seeing Claire's resilience and unwavering spirit, despite the life-altering revelations about her birthright, was both surprising and inspiring.
Claire had every right to be bitter, to feel deceived, even to lash out in anger against them all. Yet, she chose not to. Instead, she stood firm in her beliefs and identity, radiating warmth and grace. This gave Marguerite hope. If Claire could choose the path of light despite her connections to Mordren, perhaps Marguerite could too, despite her ties to Morrighan. It was all about choices and embracing one's true self, beyond the shadows of ancestry and fate.