Disclaimer: I do not own the Mystic Knights, Saban does. I do not have the rights to the characters, settings, past plots, or any of it. The only things I have are my own characters, settings and plots in this story, as well as a love for Irish mythology. Please don't sue me!

Prologue

Authors Note: This is a continuation/second installment of my last story, A Glimpse Into the Future. I would highly recommend reading that before this story, as I have created original characters and the storyline has progressed significantly since the television series. As always, R&R, I love feedback!

The days following the battle between Kells and Marosia involved a lot of hard work for the people of Kells. The war had cost many lives, but the damage done included the destruction of much of Caisleán. Those who had survived without significant injury immediately set on rebuilding the village. Under the careful guidance of King Rohan and Queen Deirdre, Caisleán was beginning to look like a village once more, rather than a battleground.

This afternoon in particular, Rohan was walking through the village, making sure that the repairs were going smoothly. Not willing to simply watch while his people did hard labour, he stepped towards a battered-looking hut and heaved a large stone atop the wall. He shifted the stone so that it lay steadily on the others, then reached to the ground to add another. Beside him, a teenaged villager hoisted another, slightly smaller, stone onto the wall.

"Make sure you lift with your legs, Donall," Rohan commented. "Keep your back straight and steady; we wouldn't want you injured."

Donall nodded timidly and straightened up. "Yes, my King."

"Better," Rohan said with an encouraging nod. "You'll make a fine builder in no time at all!"

"Thank you, my King," the boy responded, his cheeks blushing slightly.

After placing his next stone on the wall, Rohan turned his attention to an elderly woman struggling to carry a bucket of water towards her hut. He quickly stepped over to her and bent down, taking the bucket from her with a small smile.

"Ah now, Líadan," Rohan chastised lightly, "please let me." He walked the bucket to the hut, a small amount of water dripping over the edge, and dumped it in the trough beside the old woman's hut.

"May the spirit of Dagda bless you," she said. "You are too kind, my King."

Rohan wished her well and carried on through the village, smiling warmly at a group of young children running past. On the other side of the children, he noticed a familiar face sluggishly limping along the path towards the castle. Rohan folded his arms and approached his friend.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Rohan scolded.

Angus stopped, putting much of his weight on the cane in his right hand and relieving the weight from his injured leg. "Ye sound like Eabha," he said, rolling his eyes at Rohan. "I've been resting for ages. Besides, now that Garrett's awake, we're meant to meet in the castle to fill him in."

Rohan raised his eyebrows. "Yes. At sundown."

"And if I keep moving at this pace," Angus said irritably, "I'll get there by sundown."

Rohan chuckled, his reproachful look fading. "Slow and steady."

"Shut up."

"I'll join ye," Rohan grinned. "Need a hand?" He offered his arm to Angus, but the knight declined with a curt shake of the head.

The two walked towards the castle in silence for a while, before Angus looked sideways at his friend. "How in the hell did ye manage to get through all of this without so much as a bloody scratch?"

"Luck, mainly," Rohan shrugged. He then smirked. "Either that, or it's that I'm a much better warrior than you."

Through a grimace of pain, Angus whacked Rohan in the side with his cane.

...

At sundown, the Mystic Knights gathered around the long wooden table in the throne room. With the exception of Rohan, everyone looked like they had taken a fair beating at the battle for Kells. Having sat in an unusually awkward silence for a few minutes after the last knight arrived, Rohan decided to speak up.

"Strange to think it's all over, isn't it?"

"Strange does seem the correct term," Ivar agreed.

Deirdre subconsciously twisted the ring on her finger. "Yes. So much has happened in so little time. Think about it - two weeks ago, we were in the Marosian throne room negotiating the return of Rohan, Eilidh, and Eabha. We got Niamh out of Usmev's cave, closed the portal, Rohan and I were married, Angus and Eabha became engaged with a baby on the way, we fought the Battle of Kells, and now Maeve is dead."

"No wonder I'm so tired," Garrett moaned.

Angus raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, it couldn't be that you were nearly eaten by a dirty great crocodile."

"That could have something to do with it," Garrett said, adjusting the large bandage over his chest. "Tell me," he continued, "what happened in the remainder of the battle? I know Maeve is dead and Marosia defeated, but what of the warlocks? And Tyrune? And the monster? And Torc?"

Rohan cleared his throat. "Well, Tyrune is dead. And he took down Torc with him. We have Pyre to thank for that. Once weakened, we managed to defeat the reptile between the rest of us once it had been weakened by Pyre."

"It seems we owe an awful lot to that dragon," Garrett said, impressed.

"Definitely," Rohan concurred.

"As for the warlocks," Ivar said, "Deirdre and I bested Ostro and Pohlep after we managed to take their powders. It seems that was the source of their power."

"They're in the Kells dungeons now," Deirdre added. "And Angus took care of Usmev."

Angus slouched uncomfortably in his seat and rubbed his thumb over his lucky coin. "About that-"

"You said he was gone,' Deirdre said sharply.

"He was gone," Angus confirmed. "Is gone. But I don't think he's gone for good."

"What makes you say that?" Rohan asked, putting a hand over Deirdre's and giving it a squeeze.

"It's hard to explain," the knight replied, avoiding eye contact. "I did stab him. In the chest. So he should be dead. But after I did it, the world turned all grey and I could hear this voice. It wasn't Usmev's but it was talking through his body. And then he sort of faded away."

Garrett looked at Angus as if he were insane. "The world turned grey?"

"Yeah. Everything just lost all of its colour until he was gone."

"What was the voice saying?" Rohan asked, furrowing his brow.

"I can't remember the exact wording," Angus confessed. "But the gist of it is that he's not gone for good, and he's definitely not my biggest fan."

"Neither am I," Garrett joked, crossing his arms. "But that's no reason for concern. Why is this?"

"He said…" Angus paused, fidgeting with the coin. "He said he was going to cause suffering for everyone I cared about. All of you. And Eabha. And Niamh. And he knew about the baby." He stuffed the coin back into his pocket. "I'm sorry. None of you should be a part of this. And if he comes back, I will handle it myself."

The knights sat silently for a moment, nobody sure what to say. True to form, Rohan was the first to speak.

"Well, I can't speak for anyone else," he started, "but as far as I'm concerned, if this warlock surfaces again, it will have me to contend with."

Deirdre reached beside her and took hold of Angus' hand. "And me."

"And me," Ivar said with a nod.

Garrett looked at his fellow knights and sighed with a small smile. "Yeah, yeah, me too."