Travel was difficult and slow as Arthur battled waves of pain from invisible wounds. He felt the stirrings in his own mind every time his unnamed counterpart regained consciousness, before slipping back into the static that now occupied Arthur's head. It was disconcerting, sharing someone else's anguish. He had known the sting of a sword on his own skin, but feeling himself flayed open, blooming blood, with no evidence on his person was the most surreal experience Arthur had ever had the misfortune of encountering. Amidst the sharp stabs, there was also the feel of a cold cloth wiping the sweat from his forehead, hands touching his cheeks. It was a small comfort to know they were being taken care of. Arthur only hoped he'd find them in time. Llamrei seemed to sense her master's distress, whinnying nervously at every sound. Arthur only had the vaguest idea of where he was going, but even if he'd had a clear destination in mind, the trees filtered the moonlight until the paths before them disappeared into the darkness and he would almost certainly have lost his way. The forest was alive around them, branches swaying and the nocturnal animals scurrying in the underbrush. It was every nightmare Arthur had ever had; riding in urgency towards the unknown, the sense of terminus ratcheting up the turbulous feeling inside him until he stank of fear, like a beacon to every beast his imagination could offer.

He carried on, swallowing the terror and following his instincts. He couldn't explain why, rationally, he was going in this direction or what he hoped to achieve if he found the source of his phantom pains. Something inside of him whispered, unintelligible but insistent, and Arthur listened. It was like every fiber of his being was pulling him forwards. If what Gaius said was true it was his soul calling him, guiding him towards his other half. He didn't know who he hoped to find. He only hoped to find them alive, to keep them that way. He wanted the pain to go away, the static to fade into the serenity he'd had before. If his suspicions were correct and his fears justified, he'd forgive Emrys of his sins - if he were honest with himself, and Arthur recently tried to be, the majority of him already had - but with the stipulation that the man lived. If he died, Arthur would never forgive him, or himself.

It was well into the night, and the only company Arthur had was a currently unconscious warlock and his own thoughts. His mind offered him pictures accompanied with surges of nostalgia, like snapshots into someone else's memories. Fields that stretched on for what seemed like forever, golden and waving at him with the wind. A small home with a dirt floor, yet a broom stood by the door. Little creeks, splashes, and skipping stones. Arthur realized his counterpart must be dreaming and a wave of hopelessness washed over him at the idea that this person, his soul, was flashing back on their life as it faded from their body. He spurred his mare on faster, digging his knees in harshly in his haste. Llamrei let out a small whine and he apologized, soothing her with kind words as she galloped. His consciousness stirred and Arthur was suddenly struck from his saddle by acute vertigo. He wasn't even aware he was falling until his body hit the hard dirt. As his head struck the ground, it was as though the action popped his mind like a bubble, and he could feel someone inside him, looking out. The confusion wasn't his own, and he took advantage of the situation. If he could somehow show this person where he was, show them that he intended to help, perhaps they could in turn show him where they were. The sound of Llamrei's frantic hoofbeats as she made her way back to him were like drums in his ears. His head throbbed dully and his vision swam, but he pushed away the pain and tried to focus.

I'm coming. I'm coming, please hold on.

Arthur… the voice echoed in his ears. He couldn't quite place who the voice belonged to, but he was obviously known to them which cemented his beliefs that Emrys was indeed as Kilgharrah had claimed.

Show me where you are! Please, I need to find you!

Arthur…

The edges of his vision began to blacken, his own consciousness fading. A bright light erupted from the earth in front of him, momentarily blinding what little sight he had left before the harshness dulled to a soft blue orb. It illuminated the forest around him, washing over himself and his mare, who nudged him and whinnied in distress. For the first time since setting out, Arthur felt a sense of calm, of rightness. Whatever this light was, it wasn't dangerous.

Arthur…

The blackness crept closer, closing off the light in his eyes and Arthur knew he couldn't stay awake. He was going to be too late. The orb filled his eyes and he felt the gentle touch of it against his forehead. The familiar magic lulled his body into heaviness until Arthur felt like he was sinking into the earth.

Dream, Arthur, he heard as the darkness became absolute.

He woke to the sand beneath him. The sky above him was mottled with purples, blues, and oranges that under any other circumstances would have filled him with wonder at the beauty of the fading sun, but something about it struck him as ugly and wrong. Everything was wrong; the sand was too gritty, the water wasn't lapping at the shore, the trees behind him were unusually silent. Everything was still and quiet, as though sound itself had suddenly ceased to exist. Scrambling up, he looked around wildly. The lake was a dark grey, the mountain behind it covered in a fog that creeped closer across the water. The forest was dark and haunting in its inaction. Further along the shore was Merlin, completely motionless. His chest imperceptibly rose and fell, so shallow it was barely a breath. His tunic was stained red, the color bleeding out into the sand around him. He called out, his voice visible in the chill, but Merlin didn't wake. He didn't even stir. The only movement in this bizarre, twisted dream world was the orb which floated above his friend's body. It swirled around itself, the hues of blue reminding him of the blue of the sky after a storm, of the deepest lakes, of Merlin's eyes. He ran, crashing to his knees at Merlin's side. He called to him again, to no avail. The man's face was gaunt, and grey. His cheeks were sunken, forcing the bones to jut out too sharply, giving him a wraith-like appearance; like he was already nothing more than a skeleton, brittle bones ready to turn to dust, to be blown away when the earth breathed, and scattering his pieces far from Arthur's grasp. Arthur took his hand, willing the warmth to seep from himself into the fingers clasped in his own. His name fell from Arthur's lips like a plea. The orb floated above Merlin's chest, pulsing as Arthur cried, his hopelessness crushing him beneath the weight of everything he was losing.

"Help him, please!" he screamed at the orb. He hadn't expected a response, but the silence offered by the orb caused his frayed nerves to snap. He scrambled up so that he was eye-level with the bundle of magic. "You brought me here! Am I to watch him die? Help him! Show me how to save him!"

When he was once again met with silence, the anger inside of him burst. His fist was flying into the orb before the thought of doing so had even crossed his mind. Merlin gave a pained gurgle, blood falling from his lips to streak like a tear across his cheek before it coloured the sand. Arthur stood for a moment in shock. Had the orb done that? He glanced at the swirling mass, which was seemingly without sentience. Perhaps it had a mind after all and Arthur wasn't going mad on a hallucinated beach, screaming at nothing that would possibly understand him. Hesitantly, he reached out towards the ball. It pulsed brighter the closer his fingers came until he gently touched its surface. Merlin sighed, and Arthur spared him a glance. He didn't look like he was in any more pain from Arthur's actions. Arthur watched his friend as he began to pet the orb. It pushed back into his hand as though it were a kitten searching for affection until Arthur was practically caressing it, and the face Merlin made was one of peacefulness.

"Please, I don't know how to help him," Arthur said. The anger had left him, and all that remained was a helpless sadness that seemed to creep into his very soul. "I don't know what to do."

The orb pulled his hand into itself, and Arthur was surprised by the sensation of it. His fingers tingled from the coolness and he gasped. It felt like something was being drawn from him, pulled down his arm to his fingertips and into the orb. He watched in awe as the orb began to change. It was subtle at first, the silver light blended with the lighter blues until there was enough of it intermixed that Arthur noticed the contrast. His arm felt heavy, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to pull away. He was transfixed, watching the silver swirl into the hues of blue. Merlin stirred, and Arthur looked down to see the color returning slowly to his friend's face as the color seemed to drain from his own person. All at once, Arthur understood what he needed to do. He breathed deeply, inhaling the salty smell of the air, the greens and earth of the forest.

"I willingly give my life for his," he said to the globe. He pulled it towards himself, hugging it to his chest. The coolness spread into his breast, freezing the beat of his heart and the blood in his veins. Still, he persisted, drawing the magic into himself so that it may take his lifeforce to heal Merlin. He recalled Merlin telling him about the rare occurrence of healing through dream walking, and it gave him a sliver of hope. Only a sliver, but it was enough. As his vision blurred and his body weakened, Arthur thought about himself laying on the forest floor, alone. He wondered if anyone would find his body, he wondered if they'd recognise him. He wondered if his father would grieve. His thoughts strayed to the past few weeks. He'd learned so much, he'd overcome so much, and all of it felt like it was to prepare him for this moment. Meeting the druids, falling in love with one of their own, giving up the crown to save one of them with his own inherent magic… it made sense for his life to build towards this crescendo. He looked forward to the freedom of being reclaimed by the Earth, the very idea instilling a sense of serenity in him. He felt the magic inside of him blending with the magic of the orb, dancing together before the orb took it for itself, and in turn, Merlin.

Once his chest had fully absorbed the magic, Arthur fell to his knees, his legs having turned to air beneath him, unable to bear his weight. As he crashed to the sand, he saw Merlin stir. The earth was warm under his body, the breeze whispered across his skin, and the surf bubbled upon the shore once more. All was put to rights. Arthur closed his eyes, his head swimming and his eyelids heavy with sleep.

A voice rang out, and he thought he heard his name, but Arthur was too tired to listen. Instead, he slept.

Arthur was comfortably warm and held in a tight, but soothing embrace. The hustle around him brought a sense of tranquility to his mind, like listening to the wind through the trees or the gurgling of a brook. The air was clean and fragrant. As peaceful as his waking environment was, it was still alarming. Instead of blackness, his eyes were greeted with the sun shining through softly colored linens of what he assumed was a tent. The familiarity of the situation made him all the more uncomfortable, and he roused himself, throwing off the blankets and furs that had held him in his sleep.

"Arthur!"

His eyes snapped up to take in the jet black hair, curling gently around a kind face that was currently split into a toothy grin. The blue eyes that greeted him twinkled with delight and relief.

"Mordred!"

His friend hurried into the tent with a plate of cured meats, fruits, and bread. He set it beside the makeshift bed and knelt down beside Arthur, bringing his wrist up to his forehead to check for fever. "You scared me! When I found you out there in the forest , I thought for a moment you weren't gonna make it. You were so pale and cold. I'm glad you've lost your pallor."

"What happened?" Arthur asked, enjoying the sensation of the warm skin against his head. He certainly still felt the chill of death in his bones, and the memory made him shiver in spite of the warmth in the air. "How did you find me?"

"There was a light," Mordred said, excitedly. "It was like it called to me… it was made of magic, and it led me to you. It settled right into your chest before it disappeared. Llamrei helped bring you to camp."

"So it wasn't just a dream," Arthur said thoughtfully. He'd said it to himself, but Mordred gave him a funny look. Arthur ignored him in favor of reaching out to the plate, taking a helping of fruit, savoring the cool juices as they flowed into his mouth to soothe his dry throat. He felt empty, like he was missing a part of himself but couldn't quite place what.

Mordred sat with him as he ate, filling him in on everything he'd missed when the camp had moved. Arthur tried to forget the morning he woke to find them missing, with only a crudely made map and needles to tell him it was real. That everything he'd experienced over the past weeks had been real. It still struck Arthur as surreal; the druids, the dreamwalking, Emrys… but he was back, and this time he was determined to stay. He listened with rapt attention as Mordred told him about how Emrys had been causing storms, how the warlock hadn't been himself since Arthur's stay, and that had led him to distraction which caused him to stumble right into a group of knights that had been patrolling the area under the advisement of the villager's concerns. The druid had barely made it out alive, and he'd been in and out of consciousness for days, his condition worsening before making a miraculous recovery almost overnight. The same night Mordred had been led to Arthur. Emrys still required a significant amount of healing and rest, but at least he was out of danger. He would recover.

Thought swirled in Arthur's head. He was sure it had been Emrys who was wounded, but from the vision he'd had, he'd assumed Merlin had been causing the sudden gales and rain. Yet it was Merlin he'd seen on the beach, it was Merlin he'd saved from death. The magic that had led Arthur to him had also led Mordred to Arthur. Emrys had made a miraculous recovery at the same time Arthur had healed Merlin. There were far too many coincidences for Arthur to pass them off as such in good conscience. He was missing something. The strands that connected Merlin and Emrys were thin, as invisible as a single spider's strand, but Arthur was beginning to see them. The contrast of personalities between the two druid men was like night and day. Like two sides of the same coin, the thought came unbidden. His temples gave a throb.

What was going on?

"Mordred," he interrupted. "Where is Emrys now?"

His friend gave him a look, as though he knew exactly what Arthur intended without him asking. "He's resting, Hunith made sure he was asleep before she left him."

Arthur devoured the remainder of the plate's contents before standing, wiping the red juice from his chin. He purposely ignored the way it reminded him of how the blood had slipped down Merlin's face. He wondered why it felt like a hand had a grip on his chest. "Take me to him."