Chapter 1: A Grim Fate
Chapter Text
For the first time in her life, Morgana LeFay felt in control.
She reveled in the throes of her power, cackling gleefully as she watched her summoned doppelgangers force back her brother and his troops. They fought with all the cunning and skill as she did, steadily pushing back the knights of Camelot. Soon, only a few remained standing, attempting to protect their dear king, her buffoon of a brother.
Speaking of which, Arthur fought with all he had against one of her shadows. He swung and struck, but she blocked and parried. They went back and forth, but despite all his efforts, she was gaining ground and soon he would be trapped with his back against the cliff.
Surely, he would concede then?
She watched with interest as he locked weapons with her shadow. Just as he forced her weapon away, though, she threw a punch that connected with his chin.
He fell backwards and skidded across the grass, rolling onto his stomach just as he slid across the cliff’s edge.
A gasp escaped her then, and she instinctively reached out to him. Her hand gripped her Shadowstaff as she prepared to open a portal should he fall.
He never did, but instead clambered back over the edge. She breathed a sigh of relief, then turned her eyes onto the rest of the battleground.
Merlin’s apprentice—or rather, his glorified errand boy—tried his damndest to face her, but he fell with a sweep of his legs.
Her brief handmaiden—who’d shown such great promise—was pinned beneath one of her shadows, being struck across the face.
Merlin—the old fool—fought back, but was failing against her. She knew he had greater power, and he was most certainly holding back.
Alas, it was time for this charade to end. They would submit to her and they would listen, whether they wanted to or not-
Just as Morgana reached out to command her shadows, Arthur raised his sword to the heavens. Excalibur shined golden as it let loose a pillar of light that shot up into the cosmos, then came down with the light of the sun.
A part of her was awestruck to see its power in use, the rest of her was revolted that it was her brother, who feared magic to the point of outlawing it that wielded such power.
“Enough!” The King of Camelot called, then struck the ground and released a shockwave of magic.
She cried out and threw her arms up to protect herself as the rapidly expanding dome of light pushed out, burning away her shadows and throwing her—along with everyone else—back.
There was a moment of stillness, as they all lay tired and weak. But then, as she looked up to spy Arthur rising with his gleaming sword, she felt rage surge through her.
She felt anger at his hypocrisy, felt fury at his willingness to slaughter the innocent for their gifts of magic while he wielded it without concern.
With her resolve found once again, she shot forward and flew at him with her Shadow Staff. He raised Excalibur and they met with a clash of sparks, their opposing magics conflicting with each blow they made.
“You outlaw magic, but fight with an enchanted sword!” She scowled and forced him back, swinging and striking with all that she had. “You snuff out any power that isn’t yours, but I won’t go so quietly!”
She made to bring him down with a powerful blow, only for him to step aside and around her. Suddenly, they had traded places, and now her back was to the cliff’s edge while his was to the Wild Woods.
“I denied your true nature for so long because you are my sister!” He went on the offensive, attacking savagely as she struggled to defend. “But when I look at you now, all I see is a demon! A witch!”
They engaged in another power struggle, Excalibur weighing down upon her Shadow Staff.
“And all I see is a little boy driven mad by hatred and prejudice!” She pushed back against his assault with a surge of strength, causing him to backpedal a few paces.
He recovered quickly, but she focused her magic quicker. It channeled into her left hand, gleaming and shimmering as it manifested into existence.
Swiftly, she sifted through what spells could defeat him.
Arthur was a brute, durable and resilient. He would not be felled by simple spellcasting, not with Excalibur still in his hands.
But, perhaps, something that could blind him? Disorient him? Force him to concede by a disadvantage?
Yes, that would do.
Morgana lifted her left hand as a magic circle seared itself into the air, encircling her palm. “Goodbye, brother!”
“Stop!”
Suddenly, a wall of blue light manifested before her, and she stared dumbstruck as her spell shot off with a golden flash harmlessly.
It took her a moment to recognize the simple architecture of the magic portal, a novice’s spell.
“An infinite doorway?” She looked over as Merlin’s apprentice Douxie came running over with the Time Map in his hands. “You-... You dare?”
She gripped her Shadow Staff as he stopped, suddenly intimidated. He visibly swallowed, then glanced to the other side of the portal as Arthur gave an infuriated bark. “Do not test me, boy! Lower this barrier, now!”
The boy looked between them, then opened the Time Map. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, your highness.”
She eyed him curiously. For a peasant picked off the streets by Merlin, he was acting remarkably confident. It was as if he’d grown a backbone in the short trip from Camelot’s gates to the Wild Woods.
Was this a trick? A deception of Merlin’s?
She glanced behind her and gripped her staff. Douxie watched her fearfully, trembling as he let the Time Map project its image of the future—or rather, attempted to.
The map flickered and flared, alternating between bright blue and burning red. The image stuttered in its attempt to study and interpret the timeline, doing away with possibilities until it came up with the most definite possibility-
Morgana clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes, leveling a glare at Merlin’s apprentice.
“I do not have time for your games, boy!”
“No! Please, you must listen!”
“I will not!” She channeled her magic and levitated off the ground, seething with ethereal power. “For too long have I listened to my brother rant and rave like a mad dog! Baring his fangs against any who bear the gift of magic! His bigotry ends now!”
“And it will!”
She turned as her traitorous handmaiden ran over, stopping short of them. “Just, please, listen to Douxie.”
Morgana arched an eyebrow, then glanced at Arthur over the infinite hallway. He locked eyes with her and gripped Excalibur tightly, but made no move to attack. She held her Shadowstaff in a vice grip, but breathed in then looked to the boy.
“Very well, what platitudes would you offer us?”
The apprentice shook his head, then raised the Time Map. “No platitudes. No morals. Just the truth.”
He gazed up at the map as it finally settled upon the consequences of their actions….
“What?” She looked upon Camelot, its walls shattered, its towers felled, and its keep ablaze.
The image shifted and suddenly she was looking upon a corpse… Arthur’s corpse.
She looked to her brother, who seemed as baffled as her. He spared her no glance, instead staring morbidly at the sight of his death.
When she looked back to the map, she found it had gone to a final image, her.
Her future self was adorned in armor, unlike any she had seen before. It was marked with intricate designs, resembling those she’d seen in ancient places and tomes. What stuck out to her most, though, was her helm. It bore many, jutting horns, resembling a monster of sorts.
Morgana descended to the ground and studied her image with alarm, her mind and heart racing.
“Don’t you see?” Douxie dispelled the infinite hallway and glanced between her and her brother. “If you keep at it, then all is lost. You. Camelot. The future.”
“You would presume that this bauble can foretell events to come?” Arthur huffed as she looked to the ground, trying to make sense of how events could unfold in that way.
“Yes.” Suddenly, Claire stepped past them and stood beside the boy. “And if it doesn’t, then I do.”
“What are you doing?”
They all turned as Merlin stormed over, holding his staff tightly as he eyed her. She shot him a glare and held her staff at the ready. Thankfully, he moved to engage with his apprentice and the girl.
Douxie straightened up, but held a hardened face. “We’re changing the future.”
“Dabbling with time is not this simple!” The elder wizard snatched the Time Map from them, and then he looked to her and Arthur.
She breathed in, still reeling from this revelation. After a moment of thought, she dared a peek over to her brother.
Their eyes met, and she saw conflict in his gaze. He was afraid, like her.
Morgana clenched her free hand and looked to the children, wondering how they could have foreseen this. How could they have known? What would drive them to alter events they were unknowing of?
That’s when it hit her. Claire had claimed to be able to verify the map’s findings, which meant….
“You’re from the future.” She pointed at Claire, then at Douxie. “You are not from our time.”
They exchanged looks, then nodded at her.
“That is enough!” Merlin struck the ground with his staff, releasing a soft repulse of magic. “No more questions! No more-”
“No!” She snarled and bared her teeth at him as she stepped forward. “I must know! What becomes of us?”
She watched the children as they blinked, then tried to come up with an answer. They whispered as Merlin glared. All the while, she shared weary glances with Arthur, both of them still on edge.
“Well….” Claire rubbed her neck, sweat dripping off her brow. “We’re not sure what happens to King Arthur, but… you….”
Morgana leaned in closer as the girl struggled to speak, visibly disturbed.
“I what?”
“You become a monster.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back out of shock.
There was pain in Claire’s eyes, as well as fear. “You try to wipe out Humanity by creating an Eternal Night, letting the Gumm-Gumm trolls take over the world.”
Her breath was taken from her, stolen by the horror and dread that creeped upon her. It felt as if a veil of shadows had been draped over her, falling upon her shoulders and weighing her down as she came to terms with all that she had learned.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She could barely even think, too busy caught up in the storm of clashing thoughts that argued over whether she was consigned to this grim fate or not.
Yet, after what seemed an eternity of dwelling in her despair, she focused back upon those surrounding her. They watched her with a myriad of expressions, ranging from fear to pity.
Morgana took a step back, reeling from this rude revelation. “That cannot be.”
“And yet, it is.”
She looked to her brother as he gripped Excalibur and raised his darkened face to meet hers. There was pain in his eyes; and regret.
“Brother?”
“This future cannot be allowed to unfold.”
“Brother, wait!”
“Your majesty!” Merlin threw himself between them. “The future can change! The choices we make now will cascade across time itse-”
“Enough word play, Merlin!” Arthur shoved him aside. “The fate of our world hangs in the balance! Here and now!”
He raised his magic sword, leveling its tip to her heart as she held up her Shadow Staff.
“Arthur, please!” She trembled and struggled to channel magic into her left hand. “I would never do such terrible things! I’d never kill you!”
“She’s right, your highness!”
Douxie appeared between them with his hands held up and open.
“Out of the way, boy!”
“No, please!” He clasped his hands together and begged, “There was another future, one where you and Morgana reconcile.”
Arthur faltered. Morgana sucked in a breath. They stared at Douxie as he glanced between them.
“The memory.” Her chest became tight as she pieced it all together. “When we were in the woods. Those projections of us as children, of… of Guinevere…. That was you?”
The boy gulped, then nodded. Arthur bristled as she looked back on those days, those tragic yesterdays they’d spent with Gwen, frolicking about the Wild Woods.
She was suddenly pulled from her thoughts, however, when Claire appeared beside Douxie sheepishly. “We wanted you to remember together.”
“Remember what?” Arthur towered over the youths, glowering down upon them. “What did you wish to remind us of? The ever-present fear of wandering the unknown? Or perhaps every terrifying moment I saw a shadow that was not our own-”
“You were the only one who felt fear, brother.” Her voice was low and dangerous as she flicked her eyes to him, rising up to stare him down. “Gwen and I beheld our time in the woods. We longed for the freedom they offered! The adventures we discovered in them!”
He scoffed haughtily, which only spurred her anger further.
“You were ignorant of the dangers then!” He pointed into the distance—into the past—and then he jabbed his accusing finger at her. “And you continued to ignore them, despite my warnings! Do not forget that it was you who led Guinevere to her death!”
“I did no such thing!”
“She would have been safe in Camelot! With me!”
“She was trapped! Imprisoned by your fear of the unknown!”
“Your obsession with magic blinds you, Morgana!”
“And your grief blinds you , Arthur! It always has!”
“I loved her!”
“I loved her too!”
Morgana froze, her breath hitching and her chest tightening. She blinked her wide eyes, hot tears running down her pink cheeks. She continued to flush red as she looked, averting her gaze as embarrassment washed over her.
At the same time, Arthur’s sword arm steadily fell as shock overtook his fury. He stepped back and stumbled a bit, reeling from her declaration.
Nearby, someone—the buffoon Steve probably—coughed awkwardly. The rest looked upon her, their eyes burning holes into her head. All the while, she struggled to control herself as a shadow grew on her brother’s face.
"Submit.” He raised Excalibur once more, but this time there was no hesitation or regret on his face. “Prove that you would not betray me the moment I turn my back."
She glanced from the tip of the blade as it burned golden to Arthur’s hardened expression. She swallowed and stepped back, then shifted to her left. He moved opposite, sending them in a clockwise motion as the others tried to stop them.
“My lord-”
“Do not intervene, Merlin! This is between my sister and I.” He changed his pose, gripping his magic sword with both hands. “Submit, Morgana.”
She wanted to. She truly did. In that moment, with her deepest secret laid bare and her future revealed to her, she wanted to concede. She wanted to give up.
But, if she did, would that be the end of it? Would Arthur be saved? Would Camelot be spared? And would the world of magic she had fought so hard to protect be delivered from her brother’s wrath?
Or would he simply use her absence to do what he had always desired?
Her heart pounded against her chest and beat in her ears as she handled her Shadow Staff and shifted her footing. Magic channeled down her left arm, building in her palm as she stared Arthur down and breathed in deep.
"I will not.” She sifted through what spells would be of use to her and chose one that would stagger him, giving her the time to open a portal and flee. “What reassurance would I have that you wouldn’t march on the Wild Woods again?"
Arthur’s expression remained stone cold before it melted in fiery rage. “That is your concern? These mongrel beasts you are so keen to protect!”
“They are living beings, Arthur!” Her magic manifested in her hand, sizzling across her fingertips. “I will defend the world of magic from you, no matter the cost!” She raised her hand and cast her spell. “Goodbye, brother!”
There were shouts and cries as everyone around them surged forward to intervene. Merlin’s staff shined a brilliant emerald as Claire reached out in vain. Douxie tried to jump at Arthur while the buffoon Steve rushed from afar, hoping to throw himself into the fray.
In the end, they were all too slow.
Morgana flicked her wrist and the magic circle wreathed her hand once more. It blazed with power and erupted with a bright, golden flash. A force accompanied it, strong enough to knock her brother back.
It had been meant to disorient him, to throw him off balance or even put him on his back long enough for her to escape. If all had gone well, she would have opened a portal and jumped through into the Shadow Realm.
However, she had not accounted for her brother’s vindictive wrath. Even as he reeled in shock, he blindly lashed out with Excalibur.
She didn’t register the blade as it sliced through flesh and bone, just beneath her elbow. Not until her spell became unstable and blasted them all back.
In the seconds that followed, she lay breathless on the ground. Her ears rang and her mind was muddled. Then she felt the tickling of grass against her cheek, the softness of the ground beneath her. And finally, she felt the pain.
Morgana screamed, and then she whimpered. Clutching what remained of her arm, she tried to put pressure on the wound as it burned agonizingly hot.
She looked at her stump of a left arm, watching as raw magic bled from it. Then, she looked at the rest of it, dismembered and lying in the grass; bleeding raw magic too.
“No….”
Her eyes flicked to Arthur, who rose to his feet with an aghast face. He shook as he watched her with a horrified look.
“Brother?” She stared at him, unable to recognize the monster that had replaced the noble knight she had once known.
She let go of her stump and reached behind her, scrambling back.
“Morgana!”
He reached for her. She reached away, and grabbed something. Her staff.
She snapped her head back and flicked her staff, channeling her magic. A portal opened beneath her and she sank into the depths, falling into the dark.
“Morgana!”
It was too late. She sank into the abyssal depths of her portal, the last sight of her cowering and terrified… of him.
Arthur breathed in, then out.
The world spun about him as his stomach churned. His heart beat against his chest and in his ears like a drum. He heard cries and shouts as the others of his party struggled to come to his side. He ignored them, however, and instead focused upon Excalibur.
He stared at his magic sword, at the symbol of his power.
Its golden glow had dimmed, darkened by the blood that stained it. His own sister’s blood.
The shock passed. Fury overtook him. Fury at Morgana for her stubbornness, at the world for its injustice, and at himself for his failure.
Caught up in his self-loathing, King Arthur of Camelot raised Excalibur, then struck it against the ground.
Both he and the blade shattered, but only he fell to his knees and cried out in anguish.
Chapter 2: This Calamitous Life
Summary:
Betrayed and heartbroken, Morgana flees deep into the Wild Wood. As she stumbles and falls, she is found by a mysterious wanderer.
Notes:
Hey! Thanks for sticking around!
Hope you liked the first chapter, because this continues the angst for a bit.
Kinda dips a little deeper with more heart throb.
Uh... So, yeah. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Morgana finally emerged from the Shadow Realm, she found herself deposited deep within the Wild Woods.
Clutching her Shadow Staff tightly, she propped herself up against a moss-covered trunk and took in her surroundings.
It was dark now, the sun having finally set beyond the horizon. She could barely make out her surroundings, the moonlight filtering through the foliage above not enough to help her distinguish shapes in the shadows.
What’s more, was that she was not in the right state of mind to be wandering these woods. Grief still wracked her heart and mind, muddling her thoughts as she sniffled and whimpered.
“Arthur, why?” She held an arm across her midsection, cradling herself and tentatively caressing her stump.
Stumbling forward, she sought some form of shelter in the cold dark ahead.
She’d long since run out of tears to weep, but the last of her sobs had stained her cheeks and dried her throat. She was thirsty and hungry, yearning for comfort of any kind.
Out here, though, she doubted she could find any consolation for her heartache.
“Not like this….” She staggered through some brush, pushing through the vegetation. “I shan’t… die here…. I refuse….”
Morgana stepped a few more paces before her foot caught on the jutting root of a tree. A sharp cry escaped her as she tripped and fell onto her knees, scraping them on the undergrowth.
She hissed and tucked her knees close, then lay trembling on the forest floor as she inhaled hoarse breaths.
For a moment, she wallowed in her own self-pity. She wondered why life was so cruel as to take her first love from her, then take her brother too.
The sting of his betrayal was still fresh, cutting into her in a way that no blade or spell could.
Despite their clashing beliefs and constant squabbles, she had always thought him above physical confrontation. She had believed him better than lesser men, able to see the thin line between heroes and villains.
Yet, these past few days had taught her that grief was the precursor to insanity; that vengeance was the catalyst that turned good men monstrous.
In understanding that, though, she wondered, what was left for her now?
She had no friends. No family. And, no home. If she dared to set one foot within Camelot, she’d be slapped in iron and brought to the chopping block. There would be no debate or hesitation, only cheers as the witch who’d raised arms against the king was executed.
Morgana felt cold dread ebb into her heart, draining her will to go onwards. She had nothing left for her, no life to return to. What was she to do but lay here and die?
She had fought, and she had failed.
That realization… unsettling, but pleasant. It was like a dull comfort, like the respite that came after the battle. It was the understanding that she had tried but now she could let go-
No! She was better than this! She was more than this-
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the snapping of twigs, then the rustling of leaves.
“Hello?” She lifted her head weakly and squinted into the dark. “Who’s there?”
There was no answer.
Using what strength she had left, she propped herself up with her right arm and glanced around. “Someone? Please... Help….”
Her arm gave out and she fell back to the forest floor. A quiet whimper escaped her as darkness ate away at her peripherals.
Just as it seemed the end had come, she saw ashen legs step into her fading vision.
“Poor girl.”
“This never was supposed to happen.”
Douxie stepped out of the alcove containing Merlin’s workshop, wearing his guilt on his face and the weight of his failure on his shoulders.
He barely regarded Archie as he passed by him, his familiar offering a sympathetic look. “You did what you thought was right.”
The young wizard-in-training dared not meet his familiar’s gaze, but noticed the Time Map clattering on Merlin’s worktable. Its projections were constantly fluctuating between bright azure and burning scarlet, never settling on a possible future.
He closed the lid to shut it down, not wanting another reminder of his folly. In the end, though, he was unable to stop himself from venting his frustrations, “And look where that got us! History’s absolutely botched! ...I’ve led us astray.”
Douxie inhaled a heavy breath, then let out a burdened sigh. He moved past Claire, who sat at the large table in the center of the study, absentmindedly glancing over Morgana's spellbook.
“Morgana tried to help me save Jim.” She looked up at him with a tired face, one of her hands running over a page depicting the consequences of wielding dark magic. “But, when she attacked us, all I saw was anger and darkness… but then we showed her the future....”
“I know….” Douxie crossed his arms as he recalled their actions at the cliff’s edge. “She was afraid… of what she’d become.”
Claire nodded as she looked back to the spellbook. “There’s hope for her, I know it. We have to help her if we can.”
The wizard-in-training nodded, then stepped over to one of the many bookshelves lining the room. As he sifted through the collection of tomes and records, Claire glanced over to Steve who sat sniffling on the steps leading up to Merlin’s workshop.
“Ah, Steve.” She closed the spellbook and stepped over to sit beside him, giving him a comforting pat on the back. “It’s okay to cry. It was a big loss.”
The blonde jock wailed and buried his face into her shoulder.
“It’s just- The other knights think I’m lame!” He sobbed and sniffled some more. “They laughed at me! Said I hadn’t proved my worth as a knight!”
Claire’s face had quickly withered from empathetic to disappointed. Just as he talked about Sir Galahad calling him a weenie, she pushed him off and leveled a glower at him.
“Ugh! That doesn’t sound like a real problem, Steve.”
She stood up and held Morgana’s spellbook in her arms as the door to Merlin’s study opened, the court wizard himself stepping inside.
“Camelot is in chaos and Arthur is without his blessed weapon to defend it!”
He deposited the fractured shards of Excalibur onto the table she’d been sitting at. As he leaned over them, the past Douxie came stumbling in with a chest in his arms.
They stared at Merlin for a moment, a bit stupefied at sudden tension that’d filled the room. But then, Claire gestured at him and looked at her former classmate. “See? That’s a real problem.”
Ever the stereotypical jock he was, Steve stood up and looked around in confusion. “What’s the big deal? Can’t he just buy a new one?”
Most of the room gave quiet groans and frustrated faces, but Merlin skipped the reactions and jumped straight to the point, “Without Excalibur, Arthur cannot lead Camelot to war against Gunmar.”
“Which would mean the end of Humanity,” Archie added, hopping onto the table.
Douxie stepped up beside the rest of them, his face pale. “And our future.”
“If it even still exists.”
Merlin’s glare bore into his student, who bowed his head low. The other teens also averted their gazes, choosing to stare at the floor guiltily instead of meeting the court wizard’s furious look.
“Master, I know we messed up-”
“Messed up?” Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve done far more than just ‘mess up’. Now the timeline has been irreversibly altered! Not even the Time Map can foretell events to come!”
Claire glanced between the wizards, then tentatively stepped forward. “But, isn’t that what it’s supposed to do?”
Douxie gave a hesitant shrug, then rubbed his neck. “Well, yes and no. The Time Map plots out all the possible timelines based on whatever’s happening right now. Then, it pits them against each other until it comes up with the one that’s most likely to happen.”
“Unfortunately, your actions have caused too many variables to clog up the process.” Merlin rose up and breathed in, bowing his head as a shadow crossed his face. “There’s too many possibilities, too many outcomes. As of now, no one can predict what will happen next, not even me.”
Silence dominated the room then, all of them struck by the sheer gravity of their circumstances. The future they’d known was possibly gone, or at best changed. If they managed to save the day now, what did that mean for everything and everyone they knew in their time?
As they all came to terms with their dilemma, however, Steve raised a hand. “Uh, what if this is how it’s all supposed to happen though?”
Everyone blinked, then looked at him.
“What?” Claire furrowed her brow.
He shrugged, then rubbed his neck. “Look, I might not be a know-it-all, like you guys, but I’ve watched a couple time travel movies with Pepperjack! What if this is, like, one of those weird paradox things where everything we do is what’s supposed to happen in the first place?”
“Alright, first of all, that is not how time travel works! ...I don’t think.” Douxie rubbed his chin, then looked to Merlin who’d become wide-eyed. "Fuzz buckets, please tell me he isn’t onto something!"
All eyes turned to the court wizard, who closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
As he turned away, Claire looked over to the wizard-in-training. "You don't think…."
"That we caused Morgana to become the Pale Lady?"
“Let us hope that is not the case.” Merlin turned back to him, his expression hardened. “Because if so, then I fear Morgana is beyond salvation.”
“Quickly! This way, Morgan!”
Morgana giggled as she was pulled along by the wrist. “Gwen, slow down!”
Her sister-in-law and childhood friend Guinevere simply laughed at her plea. “Perhaps you should hurry up then? Hmm?”
The Queen of Camelot let go of her and gave a mischievous grin as she hopped off a moss-covered stone. She followed right after, jumping off and landing with a slight stumble.
As she recovered, her friend giggled and she flushed pink. Though, when she looked up, Gwen was already racing into the distance.
“Hey! Wait for me!”
“You’ll have to catch me firs- Ahh!”
Morgana froze in mid-step, her breath hitching and chest tightening.
“Gwen?” She dashed forward immediately. “Gwen!”
She ducked beneath crimson boughs and stepped over bulging roots, coming to step down a slight incline.
A scream sounded from where the undergrowth seemed to end, dropping off into a shadow-veiled pit.
“Gwen!” She ran over to the edge and looked down.
At first, she could see nothing, the moonlight unable to reach the depths of the dark. Then, though, she spied the glint of Gwen’s crown as her friend pushed herself up against the pit’s wall.
She smiled and opened her mouth to call out to her, but her voice became caught when she recognized the glowing, crimson eyes of a stalkling down there with her.
“Gwen!” Morgana jerked forward and reached out with her left hand.
It seemed an eternity before she realized that it’d all been a nightmare.
The realization washed over her, but it didn’t truly sink in until after she’d felt her stump of an arm brush against her side.
Looking down, she stared at it, and then she remembered why it was gone. Arthur’s hunt. Their battle on the cliff. Her future. And then her flight.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she sat there, overwhelmed by the tragedy of her parlous life.
“You are awake?”
She gasped and looked over to find golden eyes watching her.
A scream escaped her before she could stop herself and the creature winced back. She threw herself back and to scramble farther, but a thick blanket covering her legs stifled her movement. However, she did manage to push herself up, only to twist about and fall back down a second after.
The creature, all the while, shimmied back and raised his hands in surrender. "Do not be frightened! I mean you no harm!"
Its voice was deep and guttural, masculine in tone. Yet, there was an undertone she recognized, as if its voice brushed against stone as it spoke.
It clicked in her head then, and her screams quieted as she began to take in the troll’s appearance.
He wore a hooded cloak, worn and patchworked, but beneath it she could make out a narrow face framed by horns. Various belts and straps crossed his slim figure, tying a loincloth to his lower half. And his stone skin was pockmarked by blemishes that glowed a luminescent blue.
A moment passed in silence before she sat herself upright and met his gaze. "Who... Who are you?"
The troll watched her for a moment, but then he placed a hand against his chest and gave a slight bow. "I am known as Angor Rot."
He seemed polite, well-mannered in fact. Far more than any troll she’d ever met.
She studied him, looking for any signs of deceit or hidden intentions. When she found none, she turned her eyes around to her surroundings.
It was nighttime and they were camped out on a beach. A fire crackled nearby, casting the rest of the campsite in golden light. She noticed where she’d slept, on the pelt of a goat. She spied her cloak and collapsed Shadow Staff sitting beside it. At the other end of the camp was a boat, seemingly dragged from the waters onto the sand.
She took it all in before turning her attention back to him. Swallowing her hesitation, she placed her hand on her own chest. “I am Morgana.”
He nodded, then glanced at her left arm. She followed his gaze and suddenly realized her sleeve had been pushed up above her stump, the end of it now bandaged with strips of cloth.
"You… healed me?"
She looked back to him with a raised brow. Angor Rot gave a nod.
"As best I could.” He stood up and extended a hand, which she took. “You are hungry, yes? I have a fresh catch."
He gestured over at a line of fish speared on sticks stuck into the sand. Her stomach growled and she pressed her hand against it, flushing pink.
"I-... Thank you."
He hummed and turned to step over to the campfire. She followed tentatively, her eyes darting about the dark shoreline.
Sitting down on one side of the fire, she reached over and took back her belongings. He didn’t seem to mind as he picked one of the fish to give to her.
They sat there for a time, him tearing into his fish as she cooked hers over the flames. Neither of them spoke a word, simply dwelling in the silence.
Though, after she’d adequately roasted her fish, her curiosity got the better of her. "Who are you?"
He looked up at her with confusion. "I have already told you my name."
"That’s not what I- My apologies.” She flushed red and cleared her throat. “What I meant was, what is it you do? I've seen and met trolls, but never one like you."
Angor hummed and looked down into the fire, staring into it thoughtfully.
"I am a wanderer. An outlander.” He bit a chunk out of his fish and swallowed it. “As Gunmar’s war spreads, I travel farther and farther, hoping to save others of my kind from his wrath."
"I thought Gunmar protected the trolls?"
"What the Gumm-Gumm King cannot control, he destroys."
"I see…."
Morgana clutched the stick her fish was speared on tightly, discomforting memories of her brother’s own tyranny resurfacing.
“What of you?” He looked up at her and wiped his mouth with his cloak. “I do not come across many humans, especially ones who are missing an arm.”
She gave a half-hearted chuckle and nodded slowly. “Yes, well… I had a disagreement with my brother….”
“Your own kin?”
“He fears magic.” She picked up her staff and expanded it, then manifested a shimmering orb of golden light at its head. “I do not.”
Angor stared up at her display of power, his eyes wide and expression awestruck.
Then, a frigid gust knocked her Shadow Staff from her hand and blew out their fire.
They gasped and jumped to their feet immediately, both of them alert as hushed voices whispered from the shadows.
“Who goes there?” Angor roared, unsheathing a knife from his belt.
Morgana held her staff tightly and glanced at her newfound companion. He met her eyes and gave nod, which she returned.
They came to stand back-to-back, eyeing the darkness around them. Slowly, they turned to scan their surroundings, but neither of them found anything.
That was, until a small figure appeared on the rim of Angor’s boat.
She gasped and Angor twisted around to follow her gaze to a strangely familiar creature. Antlers topped its head as flowers seemed to grow in its hair. It dressed in a predominantly green attire, which evoked the likeness of leaves.
The creature giggled, then raised a hand that held a wispy orb of emerald magic. It let it go, and the orb shot off at her.
She jumped back, bumping shoulders with Angor as the orb whizzed through the air and shot at her stump of an arm.
Immediately, she felt magic surge through her body, buzzing in every fiber of her being. Then, she felt it gather and burn down into her stump.
A cry escaped her as her arm glowed green beneath the bandages. Without warning, they tore and gleaming emerald grew out, expanding and taking the shape of her lost hand.
Morgana gaped at her regrown limb, turning it over and wiggling her fingers.
It was impossible, and yet it wasn’t. Magic such as this was powerful, beyond the reach and comprehension of most practitioners of the mystic arts!
She turned to Angor then for some hint as to how she should react, but she found him stepping back in stunned awe, struck dumb by the sight.
Her eyes flicked back to the creature, who stood up and smiled at her.
She watched her with a wary look. “How? Why?”
Without warning, their campfire erupted in a pillar of flames and smoke. She jumped back, only to discover an icy mist flowing in from behind her.
She backed away from both phenomena as humanoid shadows appeared in them.
A cloaked figure floated out of the mist wearing the skull of a horned creature, their face painted with foreign markings.
Another figure emerged from the fire, wearing eyes that glanced about on their shoulders and rows of teeth across their stomach. The cracked skull of a large bird sat on their head as well, along with a plume of coal black feathers on their back.
It was the latter who stepped towards her the furthest, striking their stave in the sand and turning it to glass.
“Because,” they declared with a voice that rasped and rumbled like a volcano, “you will be our champion!”
Notes:
Of course, this is a Morgana is a good guy story, so. Obviously, she's gonna be the good guy.
But will the rest of the heroes know that?
Chapter 3: Times Change
Summary:
The Arcane Order offers Morgana the power to save the world of magic, but it comes with a price. The world of man must fall, and Arthur must die.
Notes:
Welcome back, everyone!
Thanks for coming to see what happens next!
Pretty obvious what happens next, but, thanks for coming anyways!
Hope you enjoy the read!
(Edit: Chapter was re-posted after I learned Bellroc is nonbinary and I edited their pronouns)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Come on, Gwen! This way!”
Morgana waved for her friend to follow, giggling as the other girl stumbled over.
“I’m here!” Gwen flashed a smile that shined with the light of stars, but then frowned when she looked back. “What about Arthur?”
“He’ll catch up.” She took her friend’s hand and pulled her along. “But come quickly, I think I saw something!”
They both let loose a chorus of joyous laughter as they rounded a stone and then slowed to a stop beside the trunk covered in mushroom caps.
Before them sat a stone etched with ancient markings. Atop the stone sat a diminutive figure who they might’ve mistaken as another child. However, they knew no child that bore antlers or dressed in ornate clothes that resembled leaves.
“Are you a faery?” Morgana gasped.
The supposed faery said nothing, and instead gave a friendly smile. She popped a berry into her mouth before crawling down to offer them a handful of her food.
They looked into her palm, marveling at the colorful fruits presented to them. Gwen reached first, her fingers moving to pick a small, yellow berry.
However, before she could take it, Arthur appeared.
“Gwen!” He shoved past her and pushed her back into his sister while he waved a knife at the faery. “Away from her, demon!”
The magical being fell back onto her marked stone, a frightened look on her face. Without a word, the feary leaped off the stone and disappeared into the Wild Woods.
Arthur stood triumphant until Morgana stomped over and shoved him from behind.
“Why would you do that, brother!”
“I was trying to protect you!”
“It wasn’t trying to hurt us!”
“You don’t know that!” He stormed past her and took Gwen’s hand, pulling her along. “Come on! We should return to the castle!”
Morgana glared after him, then shared a remorseful look with her friend. She stayed in place only a moment longer to look down at the berries on the ground. They’d been crushed underfoot by both her and her brother.
~
“I know you?” Morgana studied the spirit with antlers, finding a familiarity in her appearance. “I saw you as a child in the Wild Wood?”
The would-be faery said nothing, but instead gave a friendly smile as she played with a few fireflies.
From near the campfire, the being who wore a bird skull hunched low and leveled its scarlet crystal-tipped staff at her. “Nari has a habit of playing with humans, despite my warnings.”
She backed up a step, but froze when a chill ran up her spine. Icy mists pooled around her legs as the third being, dressed in its cloak and wearings its horned skull, floated around to her other side.
“Hmm….” Its eyes seemed to roam her body, studying her. “It is strong. Stronger than most.”
“I told you she was, Skrael.” The antlered faery atop the boat examined a firefly that had landed on her finger. “So old, and they still haven’t learned manners.”
Morgana flicked her eyes between her and the two other beings before she clenched her newly regenerated left hand. “Who are you?”
The antlered faery laughed, then pointed at Angor Rot, who had—up until now—remained kneeling on one leg. “He can tell you.”
She eyed her wearily, then looked to her troll companion. “Angor?”
He glanced between them all, his expression caught somewhere between wonder and intimidated. Once he noticed her gaze though, he inhaled a deep breath and rose up.
“They are myth and legend. Masters of the arcane, who transcended their mortality.” He gestured to the faery and bowed his head. “She is Nari of the Eternal Forest.” He then gestured to the cloaked figure. “He is Skrael of the North Wind.” Finally, he directed her attention to the most disturbing of the trio. “And they are Bellroc, Keeper of the Flame.”
Morgana breathed in. Deep.
A part of her argued that the existence of such beings was an impossibility. And yet, the one called Nari had given her back her left hand, a feat thought impossible.
“The troll speaks truth.” Bellroc waved a hand over their staff, alighting its crystal tip with flames that leapt up to light the foundations of a grand mural etched into the air itself. “We are the First! The Order of the Arcane! We have watched over majicks since the stars were young!”
Morgana stared wide-eyed at the sight before her, studying the intricacies of it.
A golden disc lay at the center of three depictions of the ancient magic-users. Nari sat at the bottom right, cradling a sprouting plant. Skrael sat at the bottom left, holding a crystal of ice. Above them, Bellroc handled a tongue of fire in their hands.
She stepped forward and reached out to touch the mural, overcome by its allure.
“But man has destroyed the balance,” Skrael proclaimed.
“Just as they tried to destroy you.”
She stopped at Bellroc’s declaration, an ugly feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Closing her hand, she turned around to watch them. “Why come to me now then? What am I to you?”
Bellroc seemed to bristle as Skrael frowned, all the while Nari tilted her head and gave a mischievous smirk. In the background, she noticed Angor eyeing them anxiously.
"It is as we have proclaimed!” Bellroc raised their arms as Skrael summoned a bolt of magic that struck the golden disk at the center of the mural. “You will be our champion! Our harbinger!"
Another image became etched over the mural, the likeness of a feminie figure adorned in golden armor with a wicked staff and a flowing cape. On her head, she wore a helm that bore many, jutting horns.
Her breath was taken from her then, as she recognized her grim fate.
She looked back once again, trying to gauge their intentions through their expressions. “Why me?”
Skrael clutched his stave and stared her down. “Because you can right what man has made wrong.”
Bellroc lurched towards her, forcing her back a step. “You come from their world, but fight for ours.” They raised a finger to her, pointing directly at her heart. “You shall be the Eldritch Queen! The Mother of Monsters! The Pale Lady!”
Without warning, all three beings channeled their power and directed them at her. She gasped and threw her arms up to protect herself, only to discover that their spells had collided at her feet.
She felt their magic as it merged with each other, melding and fusing in ways that metals and liquids could not. Where such mundane things could mix and change, their magic harmonized and became more. It transcended beyond comprehension, emerging from the light at her feet as something greater.
In an instant, she felt it rush through her, like the sudden tide of exhilaration in battle matched with the surging thrill of discovery. It lifted her off the ground, raising her up into the air where she felt this ethereal power erupt within her like a star being born.
It pulsed outward from her being, manifesting into golden shapes about her. Those shapes became forged into golden plates that returned to her, slapping onto her figure and fitting into place. Clawed finger-guards slipped onto her hands, enormous clasps became donned on her shoulders, and a billowing, emerald cape draped itself over her back.
Just as she became suited fully in celestial light, the magic that had gifted her armor performed a final task, inscribing eldritch markings onto it.
Morgana looked upon herself in awe and dread, her heart racing as she seemingly drew closer to the moment her fate would be sealed.
She was only distracted momentarily by a wisp of golden magic that appeared over her forehead. She looked up to it, then closed her eyes as it flared and grew into her helm with many, jutting horns.
Then, with her ascension completed, she descended back to the Earth.
“You will be the instrument of our reckoning!” Bellroc closed a fist as their compatriots smiled upon her.
She, in turn, inhaled a heavy breath, then took off her helm.
They eyed her in confusion as she turned it around to study it, trying to understand if this truly was the future she had been shown.
After a moment of worrying, she looked up at her would-be masters with a hardened face. "What would you have me do?"
"Bring balance to our worlds!” Nari jumped onto the sands of the beach, bearing a scowl. “Punish Man for his folly!"
“Yes!” Skrael conjured a frigid ball of magic and let it take the appearance of….
"Arthur?" She stared at the likeness of her brother, who stood tall and arrogant with one hand on his hip and other wielding Excalibur. “You want me to kill Arthur?”
"His arrogance has seen the balance disrupted!” Bellroc struck their staff to the sand, turning it to glass with a burst of fire magic. “He must die!"
He shouldn’t. Should he?
She glanced down at her left hand, now made of gleaming emerald.
Her would-be patrons had gifted her back what Arthur had taken.
They had granted her power, whereas Arthur had sought to restrain it.
They thought highly of her magic, whereas Arthur had seen it—and her—as an abomination.
When Arthur began his crusade against the world of magic, she had tried to stand in his way. He had threatened her with imprisonment; then death.
She was not hesitant to claim that a part of her believed he deserved punishment. That part of her called for retribution of some kind, it desired justice for his injustice.
An emerald thumb over her helm and she breathed in deeply, her chest tightening as her heart beat faster and harder.
Arthur had taken and taken from the people he had oppressed, stealing their land to expand his.
He wielded a magic sword, but outlawed the use and study of magic itself.
He hunted the practitioners of the arcane arts, but sheltered those who were loyal to him alone.
She squeezed her helm, her breaths growing shallow and heated. In the pit of her stomach, a fire was lit, fueled by mounting anger and resentment.
Arthur’s hypocrisy and bigotry knew no bounds!
He had promised peace for those born of magic, but then marched upon them when he could not sit idle on his throne!
He took and took, and whatever he gave he would eventually take too!
He was a monster! A tyrant! A destroyer!
What would their parents think of him? What would Gwen think of… Gwen….
Her breath hitched as her chest tightened, the memory of her friend giving her pause.
What would her friend think of Arthur? Of the man she had loved and married?
What would she think of her? Of the friend who had loved her, then led her to her death?
Would she look upon them and weep at the death of her childhood friends? Or would she forgive them for the sins they had committed?
“Well, champion?” Bellroc crooned.
Morgana blinked and inhaled a shaky breath. Tears welled in her eyes and her heart swelled as she stared down at the helm in her hands. Droplets tapped against golden metal, dappling the glinting surface and flooding the etched, eldritch markings crossing it.
She spent another moment studying it—and herself—before she turned it back around to don it once again.
“At last!” Bellroc cackled and raised their arms to the heavens. “The circle closes, and the end begi-”
“No.”
There was a pregnant pause, then the guardian of the Eternal Forest blinked.
“What?”
She said nothing, but instead clenched her emerald hand and gripped her Shadow Staff tightly. At the same time, Nari and Skrael exchanged bewildered looks as Bellroc lowered their arms, trembling with barely contained rage.
“You would dare to reject this gift?” They struck the ground with their staff, the scarlet crystal at its head erupting with flames. “We bestow upon you glorious purpose, and you cast it aside?”
Bellroc advanced on her from the front, the sand under their feet melting into glass. Skrael floated to her left, mists following in his wake as a sheen of ice covered the ground beneath him. And Nari scurried over to her right, green magic lighting in her hands.
Morgana glanced between them all as she channeled her magic, letting it flow and fill her being so that it might be ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice.
“I have seen my fate!” She steeled herself for the battle to come, planting herself in the sand and flourishing her Shadow Staff. “I know what I become! And I refuse!”
Her declaration echoed across the night before Skrael sneered, “Then you will die.”
Without warning, Bellroc shrieked and leapt forward, thrusting their staff at her heart.
She reacted instantaneously, magic surging through her like a bolt of lightning. In the blink of an eye, she reached up with her emerald hand and grabbed the flaming, crystal head of their staff.
The Keeper of the Flames gasped, then ignited their weapon. Flames licked at her emerald hand, unable to damage it as arcs of golden magic jumped across her knuckles and fingers.
She stared in brief shock and awe, then grinned as she felt an all-too-familiar rush of exhilaration.
“Elemen-zath!”
Her magic was unleashed in a single blast, appearing as a golden wave that spread out all around her. It caught her opponents and washed them away, throwing them far from her along with a sizable amount of sand.
They scrambled to recover as she appraised her abilities, studying a golden corona that had suddenly enveloped her.
It felt as if a fire was burning within her, strong and undying. It felt like a star was blazing in her heart, shining brightly with light that could not be neither dimmed nor snuffed out.
A quiet laugh escaped her then, and it soon became a giddy laugh. Joy blossomed in her, growing with every second she reveled in this familiar feeling of control, this euphoric sense of dominance and invulnerability.
“Oh, how I’ve missed this!” She took her staff in both hands and gripped it tightly. “Ortum obumbratio!”
She shot to the ground and impaled her Shadow Staff deep into the sand. Air rushed away from her, then stilled as the shadows lengthened and the darkness deepened. Out of the inky depths, wispy dopplegangers of herself climbed out and cackled to themselves.
The Arcane Order looked upon her miniature army, then at each other with trepidation. Their indecisiveness was the opening she needed to thrust her staff forward, commanding her shadows to swarm them.
Bellroc threw up their arms with a cry and summoned a vortex of flames to engulf her. Her shadows were relentless, however, and threw themselves into the fire to reach them.
Skrael attempted to fly up, only for a shadow to grab his leg. He struggled, then swept his staff back and forth, casting bolts of ice magic. He froze several of her dopplegangers, but the rest only used them to climb higher and grab at his cloak and arms.
Nari darted about the beach, trying to outrun her pursuers. Unfortunately for her, they were unfettered in their hunt and continued to give chase.
“Is this all that you can offer?” Morgana laughed and charged her magic in her hands. “You call yourselves the masters of the arcane, and yet you cower before my might!”
Suddenly, Bellroc’s vortex of flames expanded and burst into a plume of searing heat. Her shadows shrieked as they were reduced to ash and embers. All the while, the Keeper of the Flame rose and waved their staff.
“Insolent child!” They ignited the head of their weapon once more, this time shooting out a stream of fire at her. “Burn!”
Morgana raised a shield as the attack struck her, grunting as it forced her back.
Nearby, she caught a glimpse of Skrael twirling and summoning an icy gale to freeze the remaining shadows assaulting him. He swung his staff to shatter them before aiming it at her. “You forget your place!”
Her eyes widened as he blasted her with a beam of ice magic. That, combined with Bellroc’s onslaught, struck her from the air and she came crashing down into the sand.
Grains spilled into her mouth and she spat them out while clambering to her feet. She scanned the area around her quickly, spying her Shadow Staff nearby.
Just as she jumped to grab it, however, something snatched her right wrist, then something else took her left wrist.
“What?” She struggled as vines reached out of the ground to ensnare her.
“So violent, this one.” Nari scampered over, the dopplegangers sent to attack her buried by vegetation.
The Arcane Order reassembled before her, fury etched into their faces as she writhed in her restraints.
“One last chance,” Bellroc rumbled, sounding as if a volcano lived in their chest. “Yield and serve! Or die!"
Brought to her knees, she panted and slumped her shoulders, but then looked up with a defiant scowl.
“I would rather die free than be a slave to your insanity!”
“So, be it!”
Bellroc and Skrael raised their staffs as Nari held up her hand. Their ancient magic manifested and reached out, merging together into a sizzling mass of raw magic.
She stared through the eye-slits of her helm, fear taking hold of her in her final moments.
The world seemed to slow around her then as her mind replayed every moment in her life.
She remembered the times she was most fond of and the times she resented. She recalled places she’d been to and people she’d met.
At the forefront of her reflection, however, she remembered the Wild Wood. She remembered frolicking through the forest with her brother and her friend, sharing in their joy and adventures.
Then, it was all swept away by the cruel reality of her imminent demise.
“You could have been a goddess!” Bellroc clenched her free hand as Skrael grinned and Nari looked away. “Now you will become nothing-”
She was cut off as Skrael cried out, a clawed hand grabbing his shoulder.
All eyes turned to the imposing figure of Angor Rot, who stood over the ancient sorcerer.
“Who-”
Skrael never finished, Angor throwing him over his shoulder before he rushed Bellroc. They swung their staff at him, but he ducked beneath it. In a single, swift motion, he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced them across the side, drawing a cry of pain from the ancient sorcerer.
When he turned to Nari, he snarled and bared his blade. She squeaked and fell backwards, then scrambled away.
With the Arcane Order dispatched for a brief moment, he ran over to her.
“Quickly, sorceress!” He cut her free and yanked her onto her feet. “We must flee! Now!”
She blinked at him, then nodded. Her eyes immediately darted to her Shadow Staff lying in the sands.
“Azazazuth-Kinekh-Thoon!” Her weapon flew into her grasp and she immediately opened a portal before them. “Inside! Now!”
He obeyed, jumping through. She paused a moment to glance at her would-be masters, aiming a scowl as they recovered. Before they could cast a spell, she threw herself into the portal and once more fell into darkness.
~
“I hate my brother!”
Morgana huffed and crossed her arms as she plopped down on her bed. Gwen climbed up to sit down beside her, wearing a frown.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do!” She shot her a glare, only to drop it at the sight of Gwen’s saddened face.
“He was just trying to protect us.”
“From what?” She threw her hands up and flopped back on her bed covers. “He’s always going on about magic being dangerous! But magic is fun! It’s incredible!”
“I know.” Gwen flopped back beside her. “I’m the one who usually goes on about it.”
Morgana giggled, which prompted a giggle out of Gwen. They lay there, reveling in their amusement for a moment.
Then, though, there was a knock at the door.
They sat up and exchanged curious looks before Morgana called out, “Come in!”
The door opened to reveal Arthur, who held his head bowed and hands behind his back.
At the sight of him, Morgana crossed her arms and glared at him. “What do you want?”
“I-... Uh….” He turned red and shuffled inside. “I… I wanted to say, I’m sorry. About earlier, in the forest.”
“Oh, really?” She huffed, only for Gwen to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Morgan….” She gave her wide, puppy-dog eyes.
She flushed pink and looked away, then sighed and dropped her arms. However, she did give her brother a final jab, “You were being a really big jerk.”
He winced, then nodded. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I brought these.”
Arthur pulled his hands out from behind him, revealing a handful of berries in a cloth. Both girls stared at them with wide eyes, confusion riddling their faces.
“I asked the servants if I could take some from the kitchen.” He balanced on the balls of his feet and breathed a deep breath. “I wanted to make up for… well, everything.”
Morgana stared at her brother, then glanced at Gwen. Her friend gave a smile before she hopped off the bed and stepped over to pick a berry. She followed a second after, taking one and looking it over before popping it in her mouth.
Arthur picked his head up after a moment to peek at them, at which point she grabbed him in a hug. He grunted and she gave a laugh, then stepped back.
“You’re a real jerk sometimes.” She rubbed her neck and sighed. “But, I did shove you, so I guess I can be too.”
Gwen giggled as they shifted awkwardly.
“So, do you forgive me?” Arthur tilted his head.
Morgana tilted her head too. “Do you forgive me?”
He smiled, and she mirrored it.
Notes:
While I did enjoy Wizards, I really wish they'd explored the world of Wizards more.
I mean, the setting of Camelot was cool but they never went into detail about the monarchy, what with Arthur ruling and Morgana being his sister. They used Gwen as a plot point, but I would've loved to see some more backstory on her, Morgana, and Arthur.
Anyways, ta da!
Morgana has chosen the path of the hero! And she's got her first ally, Angor Rot!
(I really wish more bad guys who became good guys had lived in the end.)
Next time, we've got the Arcane Order looking for a new champion.
Stay tuned to see what happens next!
Chapter 4: Lengthening Shadows
Summary:
The Arcane Order seeks out a new champion as King Arthur tries to rally his people. All the while, Morgana seeks to tread a different path to avoid her grim fate.
Notes:
Hi! Welcome back, everyone!
Thanks for tuning in for another chapter!
Uh, I do apologize for mixing up Bellroc's pronouns last chapter. I went back and re-edited those.
So, sorry about that.
I hope you guys enjoy, though!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Bular...”
Scarlet eyes opened and scanned the darkness surrounding him.
“Son of Gunmar….”
A low growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed himself up. “Who goes there? Another of the little king’s pawns?” He licked his lips, tasting a tinge of blood from the last human’s arm he’d bitten off. “I am famished for another meal.”
He heard no whimpers or whines, neither did he hear the rustling of armor.
“Butcher….”
“Come out of the shadows!” He let loose a roar and yanked against the cuffs binding him to a cart. “Face me!”
“As you wish.”
Fire and smoke erupted before him as an icy gale blew through the cell. He darted his eyes about, searching for the sources of the voices or these phenomena.
He soon found them as two humans appeared, wielding the staffs of wizards.
“Greetings, Bular.” The first spoke, their voice a mingling of a quiet female and rasping male. “We come with an offer.”
The second clutched their staff and chuckled. “You will want to listen.”
He eyed them cautiously. “And why is that?”
“Because we offer freedom.” The first opened their hand, a tongue of fire flickering their palm. “And power.”
The flame shot out and struck him in the chest. A roar escaped Bular as he reared back, searing pain shooting through his body.
“I’ll flay you alive!” He tore his arms from his bindings and reached for them, but then stopped.
He panted heavily as he eyed his freed limbs. Burning orange lines spider-webbed across his arms, reaching across his body to the center of his chest. Within him, he felt power overwhelming, like molten strength pumping through him.
“What is this?” He clenched a hand and studied his newfound might.
“Our gift.” The first sorcerer hobbled forward and pointed a finger at him. “You have been chosen, Butcher. You will bring down our wrath upon the world of Man.”
He narrowed his eyes at his would-be benefactors. “And why choose me?”
“Another was chosen before you.” The second sorcerer scowled. “She rejected our gift in favor of Man. Now, we turn to you to see that he is slain.”
He rumbled, a smile growing on his face. “And what price must I pay?”
The second sorcerer smiled as the first pointed their staff to the cell door. “The king’s blood.”
King Arthur gazed down at his reflection in the blade of Excalibur, studying his own tired face.
He’d many sleepless nights since their hunt in the Wild Wood. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his own sister crawling away from him in terror, he heard her scream and whimpers.
Excalibur was heavy in his hands. Even if its blade was reforged and polished to a shine, its golden glow would remain forever dimmed with Morgana’s blood.
A part of him resented the weapon, and himself. The rest of him knew that it was a necessary burden to bear, for the people needed to know that he still wielded his symbol of power.
Breathing in deep, he stood tall and squared his shoulders before stepping out into the light. He was greeted by a chorus of cheers as his people looked on with awe and reverence.
He tried to muster the strength to smile, but failed to. So, instead, he raised his hands and projected his voice, “Good people of Camelot! We’ve suffered many hardships! Our enemies claim that I am broken! But I have overcome!”
He struggled to hold a hardened face, the truth threatening to crack his facade of resolute confidence. Before it could reveal itself, however, he raised his sword high. “Behold! The light of Excalibur reborn!”
His people roared with lifted hearts. But then, they gasped as dark clouds gathered overhead.
Arthur looked up with them, his brow furrowing as he watched the sunlight become choked by rumbling clouds.
Something was not right.
Stepping back, he leaned over to one of his royal guardsmen. “Go find Merlin. Tell him to come immediately-”
He was interrupted by a scream that echoed from the corridor at the far side of the dueling pit.
A guardsmen came running out of the shadows, slamming into the portcullis.
“Please! Help!” He grabbed the bars and rattled the gate. “The Butcher is free!”
An imposing figure appeared behind him then, looking as if it’d been birthed from the darkness itself. Scarlet eyes burned in its sockets as burning cracks crossed its enormous body.
“Bular....” Arthur stared wide-eyed, then looked to the guards closest to the gate. “Lift the gate! Get him out-”
He was cut off once more, this time by laughter—malicious and sadistic—that rumbled out of the troll’s throat as he picked up the guardsman. His victim whimpered then screamed shortly before his head was bitten off.
Horrified screams echoed across the stands as Bular grinned and grasped nothing in his hands, only for fire to erupt in his palms and form molten swords. In one swipe, he seared through solid iron and rammed his weight against the portcullis. It gave, shattering as he lumbered out into the battleground.
“Magic?” Arthur paled, then grit his teeth and jumped over the barrier, landing in the arena. “To me, warriors! We fight for Camelot!”
His royal guardsmen and several of his finest knights appeared at his side, joined by warriors from across the lands and two of Merlin’s wards—the boy Hisirdoux and the handmaiden Claire. Bular, in turn, rumbled with amused laughter.
“Bring all the weaklings you want, little king!” The Gumm-Gumm Prince scraped his new weapons upon each other. “I’ll enjoy the feast!”
“No! We’re too late!” Morgana stared wide-eyed at the storm darkening the skies over Camelot. “They’ve already released him!”
She stood on the far side of the bridge over the moat, watching as her home kingdom plunged into chaos. Beside her, Angor shifted anxiously, wearing his hood on and cloak close to his body.
“Are you certain?” Her companion glanced around, searching for anyone that might disturb them.
“Yes. My vision in the Shadow Realm was clear.” She cast a portal behind them then donned the hood of the cloak Angor had loaned her. “The storm blocks out the sun and aids his escape! I must dispel it immediately!”
She stepped through and he followed, both of them soon appearing in an alleyway. Just outside, they witnessed people fleeing from the tournament grounds. Screams echoed from afar, followed by the bestial roar of the Gumm-Gumm Prince and the battle cries of Camelot’s defenders.
Handling her staff in both hands, she recalled the intricacies of dispelling magic. Simple spells were easy to combat. Complex spells took greater effort, usually taking brute force or opposing spellwork to break their effects.
This, however, was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Morgana breathed in and attuned herself to the ambient magic in the air, feeling it buzz as someone directed it into conjuring the thunderstorm above.
“Bright Lady?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
“It is a fitting name.” Angor gave an amused smile, but then glanced towards the street. ”What part shall I play?”
She turned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done much for me already, my friend. But only I can combat this magic.” She then flicked her eyes to the street, hearing blades clash and the rampaging troll bellow with rage. “That being said, I fear what power the Arcane Order may have gifted Bular….”
He nodded and pulled his cloak aside to grab a knife. “I will watch the battle from afar. Should your brother’s life be in peril, I will intervene.”
She pursed her lips, feeling guilt at using him in this manner. After a moment, though, she gave a tentative smile and nodded back. “Thank you, Angor.”
He pressed a fist to his chest and gave a slight bow, then turned to climb the alley wall. In moments, he had disappeared onto the rooftops, leaving her to wonder about their companionship.
For reasons beyond her, he had chosen to remain by her side as a kind of bodyguard. When she’d questioned him on his reasons, he simply claimed that her defiance had inspired him. She, who fought for the worlds of magic and man without inciting war, was the symbol that he wished to believe in.
Regardless of whether he had any ulterior motives, she still had a kingdom to save.
Morgana closed her eyes and breathed in deep. The world fell away as she centered herself, focusing her mind so that she might channel her magic. As it coursed through her, she felt it reach out and envelop her, welcoming her again as she attuned once more to the ambient magic around her.
Raising both her hands, she drew a magic circle around herself. Then, gripping her Shadow Staff with both hands, she held it before her.
Arthur had never bothered to understand the inner workings of magic. He had believed it to be nothing more than a tool, but it was so much more.
Magic was power, but power had a source. That source was life. Existence, itself. And in order to wield it, one must know how to manipulate it.
Opening her eyes, she took in the sight before her. Hidden patterns made up the world, each an arcane map by which magic flowed throughout reality.
Under normal circumstances, she needn’t resort to studying the unseen intricacies of the universe, but right now she needed to know the source of the conjured storm.
“Where are you?” She glanced around before noting that magic was being drawn upon above her, driven against itself in a chaotic vortex. "There."
Morgana narrowed her eyes and incanted to herself, using her spoken words to visualize her spellwork. She willed new patterns to appear in the world, drew different maps for the magic around her to follow.
The golden ring she’d drawn around her glowed brighter, then blazed as she struck it with the foot of her staff.
In the blink of an eye, she was launched up into the air, shooting past the rooftops, then past the storm until she came to hover above it.
Looking across the vastness of the rumbling clouds, she felt a trickle of fear ebb into her heart. A quiet voice in the back of her head questioned if she had the power to combat this sorcery. However, she ignored it and recalled one of Merlin's platitudes.
"A wizard does not make mistakes." She reached out and prepared to wrench control of the elements from the Arcane Order. “She makes unexpected possibilities."
“Get behind me!”
Arthur watched as Merlin’s apprentice—Hisirdoux, if he recalled—jumped in front of him, his arms encircled with runes and hands holding magic circles. Azure magic enveloped them in a sphere as Bular pounced on them..
His molten blades crashed against the shield, but it held. However, the force of the blow was enough to send them flying back, crashing through the portcullis on the far side of the tournament battleground. They crashed against each other and the sides of the bubble while they bounced down the street.
Eventually, they came to a dead stop when they hit a fountain at the center of a square. Arthur slumped against the rim, but pushed himself up. Upon hearing pained groans, he looked over at Merlin’s apprentice—Hisirdoux, if he recalled.
“Are you alright?” He grabbed the boy’s shoulder as he struggled to stand.
“Yeah. Yea- Whoa!”
Suddenly, their foe was upon them again, landing right in front of them and smacking Hisirdoux aside. He flew across the square, slamming against a wall and crumpling to the ground.
Arthur wasted no time, raising Excalibur as the troll summoned a sword.
They battled across the square, going back and forth as onlookers ran into their homes or fled the area entirely. For a time, they went back and forth, blocking, dodging, and parrying each other's attacks. What ground they gave was soon taken back, only to be given once again as they tried to stay alive.
Thankfully, he needn’t face the son of Gunmar alone. Guardsmen appeared around him, brandishing shields, swords, and spears. They blocked off the streets and alleyways, trapping the troll..
Arthur raised Excalibur then, leveling its tip at his foe. "You'll die in Camelot, Butcher!"
"Then, you'll die with me!"
Just as they prepared to do battle once more, there was a sudden flare of golden light from above.
All of Camelot quaked as the eye of the storm opened, revealing a lone figure levitating amidst black, churning clouds. Arcs of magic reached out from them, striking the storm around them as they cried out, “Borae azuthe!”
Arthur gaped, knowing that voice. “Morgana?”
“Watch out!”
He turned just as Bular struck at him, only for his attack to collide with a magic shield.
Hisirdoux returned to his side alongside Sir Lancelot, his squire, and Claire of House Nuñez. They brandished their weapons and majicks as the rest of the guardsmen steeled themselves. He too readied himself, holding Excalibur close as he stared their foe down.
“You stand alone, demon!” he barked. “You cannot hope to face us all!”
The Gumm-Gumm prince snarled and bared his fangs. “I don’t need to!”
He reared back, heaving in a breath as his maw suddenly became ablaze. They gaped at first, then threw themselves to the ground as he unleashed a breath of flames, spewing a stream of fire that splashed across the buildings around them.
“He’s going to burn the entire kingdom down!” Lancelot cried.
“Not if we can stop it!” Hisirdoux looked to Claire, the duo sharing a nod before they scrambled away to wield their magic.
Several of his guardsmen also abandoned the fight to gather buckets of water, leaving him with a handful of soldiers, his best knight, and his best knight’s squire.
“Well, someone must slay this beast!” Sir Lancelot turned to Steve of Palchukia, who grinned. “Fight by my side?”
“Heck yeah!” He raised a hand cupped. “Let’s creep slay!”
Arthur stared in confusion as Lancelot added his own cupped hand to create an ‘S’.
“For Camelot!” they cried in unison, then charged.
Bular attacked first, pouncing on them to break up their combined attack. They jumped to the sides to dodge, but Lancelot was swift and swung at his legs.
The troll howled in pain, then swept his molten blades across the ground—leaving searing gouges in the cobblestone.
The knight rolled away while Steve jumped forward and slammed his war axe on the troll’s back. It didn’t break his hide, but it did force him to stumble a few steps.
The squire made for another swing, but Bular turned and raised his swords overhead to cleave him in twine.
However, he left himself open to attack. Just before he could bring his weapons down, Arthur surged forward and threw his weight against the troll.
Their foe backpedaled as he raised the butt of Excalibur to strike him in the stomach. As he lurched forward, he swung up to cut open his neck.
Unfortunately, Bular grabbed his hands then and threatened to crush them against the handle of his sword. Thankfully, Lancelot came forward then and swung on his arm, cutting through the leather straps on his arm and breaking his stony hide.
Magma seemed to ebb from the wound as Bular cried out and let go to stagger back.
“Steve!” Lancelot called. “Now is your chance!”
The squire charged forward with a battle cry and leaped up. He made to bring his weapon down on the troll’s head, only to be grabbed in mid-air by the Gumm-Gumm prince.
Bular roared as Steve of Palchukia squealed in terror.
“Steve!” Lancelot reached out with his prosthetic arm as his squire squirmed in the troll’s iron grip.
“Quickly, Lancelot!” Arthur raised Excalibur. “Go for his leg-”
“I’m going to broil you in your own blood!” Bular summoned another molten sword, ready to impale the boy through the stomach.
However, his would-be victim had other plans, it appeared.
“That’s what you think, creep!” Steve reared back a fist. “Viper Punch!”
The young squire struck the troll square in the eye. Bular bellowed in agony, reeling as he let go of his sword to claw at his face. All the while, he dropped young Steve, who landed on his face, but then picked himself up with a whoop.
"Yeah! That's right!" He waved a fist in the air. "Don't mess with the Palchuk!"
They shared a rallying hurrah as Lancelot helped the boy up. "Well done, squire!"
Stars practically shined in the boy's eyes. Though, they dimmed when Bular stomped forward and reared back, his maw becoming ablaze once more.
Steve screamed and jumped behind the nearby fountain. “Hit the deck!”
He and Lancelot made to follow, but the world slowed as he realized that they wouldn’t get far enough.
Suddenly, though, Bular stumbled as a lone figure dressed in a cloak dropped onto his back.
“Who dares?” The son of Gunmar spewed flames into the air, then backpedaled into a wall.
Just before he slammed into it, the newcomer climbed over him and jumped off. His cloak was aflame, so he cast it aside and revealed ashen skin, as well as a horned head.
“A troll?” Arthur stared incredulously at their apparent savior. “Who are you?”
The ashen troll looked back at him with golden eyes and huffed. “I fight for the Bright Lady!” He pulled knives from his waistguard and took an offensive pose. “Prepare yourself, warriors! The Gumm-Gumm Prince will not be felled easily!”
“Borae azuthe! Borae azuthe! Borae! Azuthe!”
Morgana growled as the magic fueling the storm fought against her. She struggled to push the arcane patterns into different shapes, trying to alter the spellwork enough that it would be incapable of functioning.
Already, it was beginning to fall apart. Like a building with broken foundations, it began to crumble. The rumbling clouds had become quieter and the air had buzzed just a little less-
“Insolent child!”
She breathed in and looked up, spying a figure erupt from fire and another from frigid gales.
“Hello again!” She smirked, then raised her arms and splayed her hands. Tendrils of golden magic arced from her fingertips, reaching out to touch the chaotic vortex around her. “Come to witness my power?”
The eye sockets of Bellroc’s avian skull burst into flames as they swung their staff about. Its head became alight and blazed furiously as they began to cast fireballs.
All the while, Skrael drew upon the moisture within the storm to create snow, then ice. Jagged shards hung around him, then aimed their tips at her before they shot forward.
Morgana narrowed her eyes, then tucked her limbs against herself. She willed the magic at her command to wrap around her, encasing her in layers of arcane energy.
Bellroc’s fireballs splashed against her magic shield while Skrael’s shards shattered against it. She endured their assault, but she had no idea how long she could manage.
The longer she stayed on the defensive, the quicker the storm would return to full strength.
“Why do you fight for Man?” Skrael hovered above her, circling her like a hawk. “They took your arm! Betrayed your trust! They are the enemy of magic!”
She ground her teeth and pushed her limbs out, trying to expand her shield farther. If she could just gain enough space to influence the storm-
“You are a disgrace!” Bellroc slammed a fireball on her, then summoned a flame in their hands. “We should have known you were too weak to know what must be done!”
The ancient sorcerer blasted her with a torrent of fire while Skrael aimed the head of his staff and spewed an onslaught of raw, ice magic at her.
She grunted and strained against their assault, struggling to hold her shield. Her control over the storm was slipping, and her will was dwindling.
There had to be a way to defeat them and dispel the storm. They were the ones to conjure it, and it stood to reason that they continued to direct it.
If she could defeat them…? No, it was too dangerous. Perhaps if she struck them down? Even for just a moment, it would be enough for them to lose their control of the storm, letting it dissipate.
The question still stood, though. How was she to defeat two members of the Arcane Order alone?
Morgana gasped as her shield began to crack, fracturing from her doubt. If she made a single mistake, it would cost her- No. Wizards do not make mistakes.
Magic was power. Magic had a source, and it existed all around her.
Opening her eyes, she looked around at the spellwork around her. So far, she had attempted to alter the hidden patterns that directed the magic that conjured the storm. As her influence waned, they began to reshape themselves back to their original forms.
Yet, what if she didn’t try to break them?
“You cannot hope to stop us!” Bellroc ceased their attack for a moment to cradle a flame in their hands. It flickered violently as they concentrated their magic into it, growing it from a diminutive tongue to a raging inferno. “We are gods! And you are but a mortal!”
“No!” She reached out and touched the unseen intricacies of the universe, redrawing the spellwork’s flow of power from the storm to her. “I am more!”
In an instant, she felt raw magic surge through her, quickly rushing through the feelings of shock to bliss, to exhilaration, and finally to agony. It empowered every fiber of her being, burning her up from the inside out. It was like liquid fire in her veins, like lightning nestling in her heart.
“What is she doing?” Skrael cried.
“Stop her!” Bellroc yelled.
Morgana squeezed her eyes tight as she wrapped her will around a seething orb of pure, undiluted power. Grasping it with all the strength she had left, she squeezed it tight before she unleashed it with a scream.
“Elemen-zath!”
The world became white as she erupted with raw magic. It became released in a single discharge, wiping away everything around her. The storm clouds were extinguished, swept back by a wave of golden magic while the members of the Arcane Order were thrown into the distance.
Morgana watched as the darkness lifted and the setting sun bestowed its dying light upon Camelot. Her ears rang, her heart drummed, and she panted heavy breaths. But soon, she felt elation fill her as she glanced around.
The skies were clear, save for her.
Golden magic danced along her figure as she struggled to levitate, exhausted but shining bright.
“Bright Lady?” She scoffed, glancing over the brilliant corona enveloping her. “I suppose it is fitting.”
“Elemen-zath!”
Arthur stopped, once again freezing up at the sound of his sister’s voice. Looking up, he watched as the heart of the storm swelled, then burst as a ring of golden magic spread outwards. The dark clouds were cast away in an instant, clearing the skies and revealing the setting sun.
All that was left in the heavens then, was a figure that shined brightly.
"Hey!” Lancelot’s squire yelled. “He's getting away!"
He returned his attention to the battle then; or rather, to their fleeing opponent.
Bular ran down the street, heading for the front gates of Camelot. Guardsmen on the ramparts above aimed their crossbows and fired, but he spat fire into the air, concealing himself in flame and smoke.
“We must stop him!” Arthur gave chase alongside his men. “Do not let the beast escape!”
“Way ahead of you!”
Without warning, a bolt of amethyst magic flew past them and struck the Gumm-Gumm prince in the back. He stumbled and tripped, rolling until he gouged his claws into the ground to slow to a stop.
Bular snarled and glared daggers at them before summoning his molten blades. All the while, Claire of House Nuñez appeared from a portal with Hisirdoux and Merlin. They struck poses, but then his sister’s former handmaiden gaped at the ashen troll fighting beside them.
“Angor Rot?”
He raised a brow, then glanced at their strange ally who also raised his brow. However, he quickly did away with his curiosity and hardened his face. “Questions can wait, human! We must end this now!”
The girl seemed to want to argue, but stopped when Hisirdoux nudged her with his elbow. They shared a look before she summoned magic into her palms once again.
“There’s nowhere left to run, butcher!” Arthur stared the son of Gunmar down and readied himself to fight.
“Wrong again, little king!”
Bular raised his arms and struck the ground, impaling his swords into the cobblestone street. It seemed as if the whole kingdom itself quaked then, the houses trembling and all of them losing their footing.
Cracks spread from where his weapons pierced the stone, burning hot as they grew outwards.
“Get back!” Merlin struck the ground before them with his staff, raising a shield of emerald magic.
The troll’s malignant spell spider-webbed across the cobblestone, but stopped at the shield. However, it continued to reach further and further beyond him, touching the base of the walls before climbing up.
“No!” Arthur gasped as his men reloaded their crossbows. “Clear the ramparts!”
It was too late. Just as he called out to them, the cracks blazed and erupted in a cacophony of explosions. There were screams and cries, as the walls broke and fell, crashing down before them.
The shadow of their demise came upon them then. However, as the ramparts collapsed over them, Hisirdoux appeared.
Merlin’s apprentice touched the ground and summoned a magic circle just beyond his master’s shield. It flared and wrapped the falling debris in an expanding sheet of azure magic.
Swiping his hand over his left wrist, he summoned runes across it and then clapped his palms together to manifest his power into his hands.
He shot a beam of light at the shattered gates then, forcing them back and away from the buildings around them. Just as he seemed to strain from the effort, Merlin stepped forward with his staff and joined his apprentice, blasting the debris back until it collapsed in a heap, safely away from the city.
They all breathed a sigh of relief and shared in their victory. Claire grinned as Hisirdoux breathed in, steadying himself as Merlin stepped up beside him. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave an approving smile that brightened the boy’s face.
Arthur himself clapped Lancelot on the back as he leaned on his sword, coming down from his battle high.
“Well done, friend!” His friend smiled upon his squire. “It looks like Camelot has a new knight?”
Lancelot looked to him, and Arthur nodded.
“For your valor, I dub thee Sir Steve of Palchukia!”
His newest knight grinned and cheered to himself before Claire came over, rubbing her hand on his head playfully.
“Steve, you did great!”
“Eh-eh! Please.” He gestured to himself with a smirk. “Sir Steve.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but gave him an amused smile. “Don’t push it.”
Arthur looked upon his warriors, his allies and friends. He saw their joy and heroism, and he smiled.
But then, he turned to the clearing smoke and dust, and he frowned.
Stepping over, he climbed the rubble and gazed upon his shattered walls, as well as the scores of his troops who’d fallen with it. Their bodies were crushed beneath the stone, some barely visible save for the glint of their broken armor.
“Camelot’s defenses are destroyed,” Merlin called solemnly from behind him, “her best knights, injured or dead.”
Arthur turned to watch him with a downcast face, then moved his gaze upon his people as they peeked out of the dark and stepped into the ruins of their once safe kingdom. Most homes were spared, others were crushed by debris not caught by Hisirdoux’s spellwork. Ash remained of those that were burnt down by Bular’s wanton rage, not to mention of the bodies of his knights who were cut down ruthlessly in the beast’s escape.
Merlin stepped back into his vision then, wearing urgency with his concern. “We need allies in the war to come!”
Arthur clenched his hands and impaled Excalibur into the rubble he stood upon. “Our enemies are many, but how will we face them alone? I am a king with half an army.”
“Then we go to the good trolls!” Hisirdoux stood alongside Claire.
Good trolls? Would they help him? Surely not. Not after all he had wrought.
It was then that he noted the ashen troll—’Angor Rot’, as Claire had claimed—who’d aided them, stepping away and into the shadows. He met his gaze briefly before a portal opened behind him and he disappeared through.
He had claimed to fight for ‘the Bright Lady’. There was only one who he could think of that would send those he had hated to save him.
He prayed that Morgana would fight beside them. And he prayed that she would forgive him.
“What is this?” Gunmar the Black pushed past his horde, storming to the front to survey the kingdom of Camelot, its front gates ruined and smoke rising from the city within. “Who destroys Arthur’s keep without my orders?”
None answered him. His soldiers exchanged fearful looks as his warlords bowed their heads in silence.
He snarled and summoned his Decimaar Blade, ready to cut them down until he found the one who had stolen his revenge.
“Father!” Bular came running into the treeline, his body cracked and seething with burning magic. “I shattered the humans’ walls!”
“My son!” He stepped forward and looked upon him. “What has happened to you? What is this power?”
“A gift!”
He growled as a voice called out, human yet… ancient. Rasping as if it spoke from the throat of a volcano.
A pillar of flames erupted upon a pile of stones and left behind a hunched figure clutching a staff. Immediately after, a frigid gale blew through the woods and wrapped itself into a vortex, delivering another figure donned in a cloak. And then, finally, the vegetation just behind his horde grew and parted, revealing a tiny creature dressed in green and bearing antlers.
“Who are you?” He summoned his sword and leveled it at the one atop the stones.
“Allies.” They pointed a finger at his son. “Patrons.”
He looked to Bular, who nodded.
“That one empowered me, father.” He raised his hands and grasped raw fire, manifesting them into molten swords. “Gifted me the strength to break my chains and reduce the humans to ash.”
Gunmar hummed, his voice rumbling in his throat as he turned back to the sorcerers. “You would betray your kind?”
The cloaked one chuckled. “You insult us, Gunmar the Black.”
“We do not belong to the world of Man.” The antlered creature scampered over, smirking ominously. “We have mastered the arcane, and become greater.”
The one atop the stones disappeared in an inferno, then reappeared before him. “And now, we offer you the power to destroy your enemies. Our enemies.”
Notes:
So, two chapters and an epilogue are left, I believe.
We're fast approaching Killahead Bridge.
Angor Rot is now a prominent figure in the story.
Morgana is powerful, but indecisive.
Arthur is repentant, but somber.
All paths will soon cross, and the circle will close.
Hope to catch you guys next time!
Chapter 5: 10 Til Midnight
Summary:
As King Arthur martials his army, so too does Gunmar call upon his horde. As the sun falls and the night comes, Morgana seeks a reason to continue on.
Notes:
And here we are, right before the end.
Thanks for the sticking around folks!
This is gonna be a little bit of a short chapter.
Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The future looked grim.
Camelot’s walls were shattered, its people frightened. The great weapon Merlin had forged from magic had chosen wrong, and subsequently the Trolls of Dwoza had refused to ally with him. What’s more, his knights still numbered half than they had before Bular’s escape. And in order to supplement their forces, he’d called upon any man or woman who could wield shield, sword, or crossbow.
Now, as the sun showed high above them, they waited with bated breath for night to fall and the battle to begin.
“Sire?”
Arthur breathed in and looked to Merlin, who stepped over to stand beside him.
They stood upon a hill, overlooking an encampment placed at the edge of the Wild Wood. His army had come trickling in from across the land, gathering among the tents and fire pits. Some trained in cleared spaces, others sharpened their blades or shared drinks to numb themselves to the overbearing dread that hung in the air.
“Do you believe we can win this war, old friend?” Arthur looked to the elderly wizard, who kept a solemn face as he surveyed their forces.
“We will, my king.” He looked tired, his eyelids drooping and posture loose. “We must.”
He turned to him then, locking eyes with him. They exchanged looks of surety, then nodded.
Just then, though, Sir Steve came stumbling up the hill. They turned to him with raised brows while he held up a finger and panted.
“Hey! ...Hey! Your majes-... Majesty!” He coughed and beat his chest, then stood a little taller. “Your majesty! Uh… Sir Lancelot wanted me to get you because that one troll who saved us when Bular broke out is here.”
Arthur’s eyes widened immediately. “You are certain?”
The boy scratched his head. “Uh… yeah?”
The future looked to be dark, trapped in an eternal night. Good.
Gunmar smirked to himself, reveling in the inevitability of his triumph.
Camelot was vulnerable, its defenses broken and its protectors halved. The little king was disheartened and his people were terrified.
His spies had claimed that Arthur had tried and failed to ally himself with the Trolls of Dwoza. Had he really believed that any troll would side with him? Ha! The fool.
Though, Dwoza’s continued existence posed questions.
Had it not been conquered? And where was General Aaarrrgghh? Had he failed?
It was impossible. The brute was one of his mightiest warriors! Yet, if he had failed, then a grisly fate awaited him upon his return.
“Father?”
Gunmar huffed and glanced over, finding his son bowing near him.
“Bular?” He turned as his son rose. “What have you to report?”
“Your horde has answered your call. They march from across the land, gathering here as we speak.” A grin crossed Bular’s face. “Already, we vastly outnumber the humans. And with the gifts of the sorcerers….”
He flexed his arms, letting magic surge through the glowing cracks in his body. His grin grew wider, but Gunmar was not so easily impressed.
“I do not trust them.” He scowled and looked to the edge of the throne room, where the ancient sorcerers watched them.
The cloaked one Skrael frowned and narrowed his eyes as the forest spirit Nari ignored him. The feathered one Bellroc clutched their staff and huffed.
“Have you no faith in us, dark lord?” Bellroc crooned as they stepped over. “Did we not liberate your son? Gift him powers beyond imagination?”
“You did. But, I wonder, to what end?” He towered over her and summoned his Decimaar Blade.
He stared them down, unwavering in his gaze as the sockets of their bird skull lit with flames. The air became thick with tension for a moment, but then the one called Nari skittered over.
“Perhaps, another gift?” She tilted her head, and then lifted up a hand that cradled a wispy orb of emerald magic.
She let it go and it shot into his sword. He snarled and held the handle tightly as the weapon quaked, its luminous blue glow turning green as it became empowered.
“What was that?” He eyed Nari, who gave an ominous smile.
“Man is not so easily broken.” She crossed her legs and held her ankles. “But now, life itself will bend to your will.”
He narrowed his single eye at her before looking to his Decimaar Blade. It thrummed with a new power, almost singing with the same life force as his life stone.
Gunmar raised his weapon and leveled it with a pile of stones, the remains of a soldier he’d crushed for his failure. From the glowing cracks in his blade, magic reached out and coerced the stones to grow.
In moments, a Gumm-Gumm soldier stood before him, fully donned in armor.
He breathed in awe, then turned to the Arcane Order. Skrael and Nari shared smiles as Bellroc watched him.
“Arthur has his own sorcerers.” He studied his sword before looking back at them. “What reassurance do I have that your majicks will not be beaten by theirs?”
Offense crossed their face before Skrael levitated to him, reaching out with his staff. The head exuded cold mists that manifested into a glowing orb of magic. It fell into his hand and he observed it before glancing up at the sorcerer.
Skrael offered a smile and bowed, then retreated back.
Gunmar held up the orb, then crushed it. Magic surged through him, frigid and yet exhilarating. A grunt escaped him, followed by a satisfied laugh.
Cold mist fell from his hand and he scrutinized his palm before aiming it at the soldier he’d raised. Ice magic poured out from his hand, freezing the troll totally before he backhanded it, shattering it into pieces.
“Does this please you, dark lord?”
He turned to Bellroc and grinned.
“You know me?”
Angor Rot studied the human girl and the armored troll, both staring at him with a mix of fear and fascination.
He’d been escorted into King Arthur’s camp, having strode up to the edge by the treeline with his hood donned and cloak wrapped around him. Ushered into a tent, he’d been held under armed guard before they arrived, claiming he was no threat.
“Well… yes and no.” The girl rubbed her neck. “We do know who you are.”
“So you’ve heard of me?” Angor gave an amused laugh and leaned forward, sitting on a chair. “I did not think many trolls spoke of outcasts.”
The duo exchanged looks, then turned back to him.
“Well, when you make it your duty to save others from Gunmar’s wrath….” The troll smiled fondly, as if recalling a pleasant memory.
Angor watched him curiously before growing his own smile and turning his gaze to the ground. “I do what any troll should.”
“Well….” A boy with black hair highlighted with bright blue shrugged in a nearby corner. “The rest could do a bit more.”
“They’re afraid.” The girl crossed her arms and frowned. “And I don’t blame them.”
The troll put a hand on her shoulder then, squeezing it gently. “Let’s hope they pull through, at least. We can’t win without them or Callista-”
He stopped short as the tent’s flaps were pushed aside, revealing King Arthur and his court wizard. The two stepped inside, glancing between them before they looked upon him.
“You.” The human king walked up to him, his face shifting between solemnity and desperation. “You fought with us against Bular.”
Angor studied him for a moment, took in his heavy shoulders and tired face. Then, he nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“The Bright Lady commanded it.”
King Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed cross with himself, conflicted between what he wanted to ask and what he should ask. Or rather, what he should or shouldn’t learn.
“...Who is the Bright Lady?”
Angor stared him down. “You already know.”
Arthur breathed in, his solemn mask falling. Around him, the other occupants of the tent glanced between them with expectant looks. They seemed to know her as he did, but they were hesitant to interrupt his self-realization.
“Will she join us?” The human king raised his gaze to look him in the eye. “Will she… Will she fight for Camelot?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. He feared breaking the man’s spirit. But, in the end, he relented and shook his head.
“Fear stays her feet.” Angor rubbed a set of golden knives held in his waistguard—each forged for him from magic. “I came to aid you. To fight for both our worlds. But, I am afraid that she no longer knows which world she belongs to anymore.”
Camelot was unnaturally silent. The halls of the royal castle were dark and quiet, the servants either at home or arming themselves in Arthur’s encampment. The Knights of the Round Table had long since left to join their king at the edge of the Wild Wood. And Merlin, along with his wards, had left to do the same.
All that was left in these vaunted halls was Morgana, who appeared from a portal to stand in Merlin’s workshop.
“Here we are….” She stepped past the table she’d spent years shouting across at her master, the old fool arguing the merits and morals of magic with her. “Back again….”
It was all familiar, and yet so strange. This was the life she’d lived, but left behind. All that remained here were memories. But she had not come for memories….
Moving across the room, she came to stand before the enchanted vault on the opposite wall. With a single motion and exerting her will, the many arcane locks spun and aligned to a specific pattern. Inside, the contents of the vault shifted to the dimension it contacted.
The door opened and revealed the Time Map.
Morgana said nothing as she reached in and took the item, holding it tentatively. A part of her was frightened by it, terrified that it might show her the same, grim fate she’d strived to avoid over the past few days. Another part was still curious of if she’d managed to tread a different path; one that led to a better future.
For a long moment, she stood in the waning sunlight that filtered through the nearby windows. Holding the box in her hands, she stared at the closed lid and tried to work up the courage to open it. Each time she willed herself to do so, she failed.
Then, finally, after closing her eyes and breathing in deep, she settled her nerves and lifted the top.
Immediately, the magic within lit up and projected the map. It shined azure and formed a sphere, but then flickered scarlet.
Morgana blinked as the Time Map stuttered, its structure fizzling and fluctuating.
She was stupefied at first, unable to process the sight. Then, when she came to the realization that her efforts had been in vain and she would never know her fate until it was too late, she gripped the map tightly and snarled.
Finally, though, she let go of her frustrations and sank down onto her knees, breathing a heavy sigh.
“What was I expecting?” She gave a dismal laugh. “That life might take pity upon me?”
A shadow fell over her face as she closed the map, leaving her sitting in the dying light of the setting sun.
Why had she come here? What had she hoped to find? An answer? A reason to keep going?
She was destined to have become a monster. A tyrant—the same as her brother.
Yet, she had rejected that fate. She had refused to become the weapon of destruction she was meant to become.
But, had she? Was her future set in stone? Would she be consigned to this fate, no matter how hard she tried to escape it?
Or, was she now the master of her own destiny? Was she beyond the reach of prophecy? Able to become who she wished to be?
The thought was overwhelming, and that only added another layer onto her mounting dread. Already, she struggled with knowing the darkness that lurked in her. It felt as if she were drowning, plunging into the depths of the unknown and unable to swim out.
Oh, how she wished she could return to simpler times….
Her grasp on the Time Map loosened then, as she reflected on the past. It fell from her hands without her notice and clattered onto the floor, its top flipping open.
She gasped at the sound and looked down as it followed her final whims, seeking a simpler time.
“Do you think he’ll ever stop?”
A younger her sat upon a grassy hilltop, right beside a living Guinevere.
“Stop what?”
“Persecuting magic.”
“...I don’t know.” Gwen laid back and looked up at a starry sky. "I certainly hope.”
“I fear hope will not be enough.”
“It never is.”
Her younger self glanced over with a startled look. “Aren’t you supposed to be the cheery one?”
Gwen laughed, and the hearts of the past and present Morgana swelled.
“I am cheery, Morgan. Just not in the way most people are.” She sat up and pointed across the open fields to the walls of Camelot. “Our home wasn’t built by hope. It was certainly built on top of it, but it took the labor of strong men and women to place stone upon stone.”
She already knew her younger self was not listening, too enraptured by the confidence upon Gwen’s face and the harmonious tone of her speech.
“I see your point.”
“I don’t think you do.” Gwen smiled and stood up. “Do you remember when Merlin gave Arthur his sword?”
She nodded and rose with her. “How could I forget? Excalibur shined with the light of the sun.”
“Indeed… but Excalibur can’t protect Camelot.” Her childhood friend took her hands and brought them together, making her clutch an invisible handle. “Swords and spears are useless without hands to guide them. Armor cannot prevail against the end of days. Magic cannot hope.”
Morgana watched her long dead friend, saw the bright courage on her face and felt the strength she exuded even in death.
“It all means nothing, until we step forward and take a stand.”
Notes:
The circle closes, the end begins.
The next chapter will probably be the longest. Might not come out for a little bit.
Gonna write the Battle of Killahead Bridge with a little more strategic nuance and tactical know how, try and make it feel like the last stand against the forces of darkness.
Hope to see you guys there!
Chapter 6: Burning Bright
Summary:
Good against evil. Light against dark. Man against Troll.
The sun falls and the night reigns eternal as Man stands tall before the rise of the Gumm-Gumms.
Everything has led to this moment, and now the fate of both worlds hangs in the balance.
Notes:
Hello, hello! Welcome back, everyone!
It's been a hot two months since I've last uploaded... yeah....
So, a lot of stuff happened since last time, namely that my workplace shut down and I lost my job.
It wasn't much of a shock that it was going as much as it was to lose it so soon.
But, anyways, I've just been dealing with that and a few other personal issues.
Anyways, I wrote this up and edited it as best as I could with what energy I had.
Hope you guys enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
As the sun fell, so too did judgement upon all the world.
From where he stood atop a jutting precipice, King Arthur surveyed the virgin battlefield before him.
The falling sun cast the land in dying light and rising darkness. Hidden in the shadow of vaulted cliffs, Killahead Bridge stood ominously alongside a sea of emerald grass. The valley itself was wide and sunken only slightly, sparse of any blemishes save for scattered trees and boulders.
Suddenly, he heard the bellow of a war horn sound from across the field.
Squinting his eyes, Arthur distinguished the hulking figures of the Gumm-Gumm horde. Perched atop the shadow-veiled heights, they brandished their jagged weapons and let loose their voices. They jeered and threw taunts, daring him to advance alone.
Arthur merely scowled and watched as the forefront of the troll ranks parted. From their overwhelming numbers came forth the Gumm-Gumm king himself.
“One king cannot stand against an army, Arthur!” Gunmar the Black gestured about him and grinned as his warriors roared with greater zeal.
King Arthur breathed in and stood tall in the face of evil. Gripping Excalibur tightly, he raised his voice to call out to his foe, "Pride and arrogance blind you, Gunmar! For I do not stand alone!"
"Oh really?" The dark lord of the Gumm-Gumms rumbled with laughter. "Then where are all your men?"
"Right here!"
Running from the treeline came Hisirdoux, soon followed by his familiar Archie, Lady Claire, and the troll Jim. They were quickly joined by Merlin and the surviving Knights of the Round Table, who gathered close to their king. Marching out into the waning sunlight came ranks of footmen—bearing shields, swords, or spears. Behind the forward infantry came archers and crossbowmen, each raising their arms to the heavens.
King Arthur smirked as Gunmar's single eye widened. "Fire!"
He lifted Excalibur high and his men let loose their weapons. Arrows and bolts soared through the sky, arcing across the valley and unto the Gumm-Gumm horde.
The raucous jeers and feral taunts of their enemies fell into silence as the sky darkened. Within moments, they were scrambling over each other to find cover as scores of bolts pierced their hides.
Some trolls tried to defend themselves with raised arms or hands, others were too slow and were rendered fractured stone. Gunmar himself grabbed the nearest thrall and held him up as a living shield.
Snarling, the dark lord looked out upon his opponent's army and snarled.
“Berserkers!” Gunmar tossed the petrified body he'd held across the battlefield. “Tenderize them!”
A dozen of his most expendable warriors threw themselves off the vaulted heights, tucking in and rolling down the incline so that they hurtled into the daylight. Though they were turned to stone, they were dragged on by momentum and flung into Arthur’s ranks.
"Living cannonballs!" Hisirdoux's familiar cried out. "Look alive!"
King Arthur fell onto his knee and barked an order, "Break formation!"
His soldiers threw themselves aside, trying to evade the oncoming threat. Tragically, not all of them escaped harm.
Some of his men were crushed beneath the petrified berserkers. Others were left with broken limbs, lying upon the ground in agony.
Arthur clenched his jaw and turned back to the battlefield, watching as the shadows lengthened towards them.
"Merlin!" He called to his old friend, who stood beside his apprentice. "Now!"
His court wizard nodded and exchanged an affirming look with Hisirdoux. The boy produced a sack as Lady Claire tore open a portal for him.
"Here's a present for you lot!"
Young Hisirdoux emptied the sack's contents into its shadowy depths. Not a moment later, the Gumm-Gumm ranks were torn apart by exploding dworkstones.
As smoke and pained bellows filled the air, Gunmar's furious roar shook the world.
“Throw as many toys as you wish, little king!” Gunmar beat his chest and raised his Decimaar Blade, sending more of his berserkers to their wanton deaths. “The age of Man has come to its end! Now, the age of Trolls begins!”
King Arthur grit his teeth as they weathered the counter attack. When it finally ceased, he rose up and breathed in deep, tempering his mounting fury. Then, he turned around to look upon the many brave champions who stood beside him today.
“Knights of the Round Table! Good men and women of Camelot! Heroes from near and far! Hear me now!” Arthur lifted a fist high and met each of their anxious faces. “Know that on this day, our battle cry shall shake the heavens! It will quake the very earth! The old gods shall hear our roar and awaken to witness our valiance!”
There were exuberant cheers and fists proudly beating against breastplates as he continued.
“Today, we say ‘no more’ to fear and darkness! Today, we make our stand and hold this line!” He turned and raised Excalibur overhead, its blade a beacon that shined bright and golden. “For Camelot! And glory!"
A thousand heroes cried out with him, announcing their courage and valor for all the world to hear. Some unsheathed their weapons and held them aloft. Others clasped each other's arms and cheered together, reminding themselves that they stood side-by-side before the very gates of hell.
Then, in the moment after, the sun fell and the valley became darkened by shadows.
Gumm-Gumm war horns bellowed then, accompanied by the primal roars of the savage beasts. The world seemed to tremble as Gunmar's horde lurched forward, descending unto the battlefield in a mass of jagged armor and wicked blades.
Upon their advance, King Arthur raised an arm and called out, "Shieldbearers! Hold the line!"
The columns of troops flanking him parted so that footmen and knights wielding large, steel shields could take to the front. They planted themselves at the edge of their army and presented the defense wards painted on their shields—courtesy of Merlin and Hisirdoux.
As the enemy army approached, more men came forth to reinforce their bulwark.
"You've got this, Jim!" Lady Claire called out to the Troll named Jim—the very same troll she'd arrived with in his court.
The Troll in ebony and scarlet armor himself flashed a grin back at her. Then, he hefted up his own shield and took position at the heart of their defense, right where the oncoming horde would hit first.
"Here they come!" Hisirdoux flourished his staff and took a ready pose. "Let's hope this works!"
Arthur looked to Merlin, who stood tall beside him. They shared a solemn look, then sucked in breaths as the enemy force finally bore down upon them.
At first, there was a flash of azure light as the Gumm-Gumms came crashing against their shield wall.
His shieldbearers flinched and he worried that they might falter. Yet, as the defense wards flared with magic and blasted the enemy back, the footmen and knights steeled themselves and held the line.
All the while, the first wave of Gumm-Gumms were forced back, only to be swept up by the second wave. They struggled to escape, but were quickly crushed between them.
"Spearmen! Archers!" Arthur signaled for the next phase of their battle plan. "Do not let them breach our defenses!"
Gunmar's horde clawed at their enchanted shield wall, trying to tear down the magic protecting them. None saw past the steel shields and shining wards as spearmen rushed up to thrust their weapons through gaps, piercing the armor of a few Gumm-Gumms.
At the same time, rows of archers nocked their bows and took aim. They let loose volleys of arrows upon the enemy, thinning the meat of their army.
The crossbowmen perched atop higher elevations took aim as well, choosing their targets wisely and picking off the trolls closest to the wall.
Unable to tear down their defenses and harassed by enemy fire, the Gumm-Gumm horde began to falter.
"Fight harder!" Gunmar waded through his brood, making his way to the front. "Unleash the stalklings!"
Horrific shrieks filled the air as dark figures appeared in the night sky. Some of King Arthur's men faltered, but held fast as Merlin, Hisirdoux, and Lady Claire stepped out into the moonlight.
"Now, it's our turn!" Hisirdoux flourished his staff and followed a stalkling with his eyes. "Tenebris exilium!"
He shot off bolts of azure magic, dropping the flying monstrosities. Some he trapped in magic bubbles, allowing his familiar Archie to fly past and blast them with dragon fire.
Beside the newly anointed wizard, Claire of House Nuñez conjured shadow magic into her palms and threw out her own spells. Some stalklings fell, others were cast through portals and found themselves flying right into the Gumm-Gumm ranks.
Merlin, all the while, levitated into the air, eyes burning emerald as he incanted. Then, with a thrust of his arms, he erupted with a force that knocked their aerial threats from the sky.
King Arthur looked on with awe and grinned with exhilaration.
Turning his gaze back to the battlefield, he locked eyes with Gunmar, he scowled.
"What are you waiting for?" the Gumm-Gumm King bellowed and turned left then right, sweeping his arms out to motion at his troops. "Swarm them! They cannot hold forever!"
Whether it was fear of punishment or fanatic loyalty to their master, the Gumm-Gumm horde's onslaught intensified.
The Trolls were throwing themselves at them. At times, literally. Most crashed against their ward-marked shields and bounced off. Some were impaled upon spears, but then fell back and took the weapons with them. Others beat their wall with swords, and a few attempted to pierce the gasp with their own polearms.
Where their defense wards had flashed every other second, they now remained blazing, constantly under duress.
"Those wards aren't gonna last long!" Hisirdoux looked to Merlin, who then turned to Arthur.
The King of Camelot nodded, then raised Excalibur high. It burned golden as it emitted a pillar of magic into the heavens.
The Gumm-Gumms paused momentarily to watch the spectacle in confusion. The bulk of their forces now filled the valley, flooding the battlefield with their numbers. The constant volleys of arrows and crossbow bolts had withered away at them, though, leaving their flanks thinned out.
It was then, just as Gunmar opened his maw to bark another order, that a war horn blew.
All eyes turned to the far end of the valley as the Earth quaked from the pounding of hooves and the furious brays of war horses.
"Here comes to cavalry!" Sir Steve of Palchuk cheered as he hefted a lance. "You with me Lancelot!"
Sir Lancelot let loose a hearty laugh as he rode fast beside his former squire. "Always, friend!"
They shouted a mighty battle cry together as they charged forth, an entire entourage on their back.
"Shore up the left flank!" Gunmar grabbed a whelp and tossed him over.
None heeded his call, but instead attempted to flee as the Humans' counter-offensive came down upon them.
"Creepslayerz for life!" Steve impaled a troll, then a second.
He let the lance go, then pulled Toothache from his side and swung, smashing a berserker over the head.
Whooping victoriously, he rode farther ahead. Lancelot cheered beside him as he speared three trolls, then unsheathed his jagged sword to cut down a few more.
One berserker attempted to rush them with a warhammer. However, just as it swung, Lancelot yanked on his reins and compelled his steed to jump up.
Its hooves crushed the Gumm-Gumm's helm and proceeded to trample it to rubble. Steve cheered before he swung Toothache again, catching a fleeing troll in the back.
The rest of their entourage followed suit, crushing the metaphoric meat of the enemy army into dust with weapons and hooves.
All the while, the Gumm-Gumm horde fell into panic. The weaker grunts dropped their weapons and fled away from the Human cavalry. The tougher ones held their ground, but were run over entirely. Only Gunmar and his son Bular stood against the counter attack.
Wielding his molten blades, Bular swung and cut down one mount and its rider. Then, he cleaved through the upper half of a cavalryman and breathed flames on a third.
He made to impale a fourth, and did. However, its rider leapt off and somersaulted over him.
The rider's hood fell back and golden eyes glared at the son of Gunmar.
"You again?" Bular was cross with bewilderment and fury. "You would fight your own kind?"
Angor Rot snarled and flipped his knife in his hand. "My kind are those you've slaughtered, butcher!"
The outlander jumped forward and ducked under a molten blade in mid-swing.
Bular stumbled forward from the momentum of his attack, but twirled to swing again. His blade caught Angor's knife, but his opponent revealed a second that cut through his side.
Bular winced and roared, then charged at him again.
Meanwhile, the Gumm-Gumm King strived to rally his forces.
"No! What are you doing!" Gunmar grabbed the nearest Gumm-Gumm attempting to flee and throttled them with a scowl. "I didn't order a retreat! Press your attack!"
Very few heeded his command, most trying to escape the trap they'd found themselves in. Some made for Arthur's shield wall, only to discover it falling as the King of Camelot leapt down from his vaulted height.
"Now!" He raised Excalibur and let loose a roar. "For Camelot!"
His knights echoed his battle cry and brandished their arms as they charged with him. The shieldbearers pressed forward to make way and the spearmen gave a final thrust of their polearms before dropping them to grab other weapons.
Above, Merlin called out an incantation and levitated into the air once again. This time, he shined emerald and unleashed arcs of lightning that crashed down upon the breaking horde.
Hisirdoux surged forward alongside Lady Claire and Jim, the trio assaulting a group of berserkers setting themselves upon a fallen knight.
The wizard suspended them in the air with a spell while Jim grabbed a Gumm-Gumm's sword and cleaved two of them in half. Claire followed up with a portal below that Hisirdoux dropped them into.
A second later, another portal opened far off, depositing the trolls onto their own.
"Watch out!"
The trio turned as a massive troll barreled at them. However, it was suddenly attacked by Archie, who soared past and breathed dragon fire on it until it turned to dead stone.
"Nice one, Arch!" Douxie cheered as his familiar returned to hover next to them. "How's the rest of the battle going?"
"Fairly well, all things considered!" Archie flicked his eyes about, then pushed up his glasses. "Though, I believe Arthur's headed for Gunmar and Bular's having at it with our new troll friend."
The three heroes exchanged looks.
"I'll help Arthur!" Douxie gripped his staff as Claire and Jim nodded.
"And we'll help Angor!" Jim held his blade aloft. "Not my first time fighting Bular anyways."
Deeper into the chaos of the battlefield, bodies crashed against bodies as blades clashed and fists crumpled armor. Steel and stone tested their might against each other as man and troll fought for the fate of the world.
King Arthur waded through the thick of it all, batting aside grunts and cutting down berserkers. A few goblins tried to cling to his feet and climb his back, but he was quick to stomping on them and grabbing the one that'd scaled his armor.
Heading deeper into the chaos, he spied his foe biting off the head of a knight.
"Gunmar!" Arthur raised Excalibur and leveled its blade to the dark lord. "This ends now!"
The Gumm-Gumm King swallowed and bared his fangs, then unleashed a furious roar. "This ends when I say it ends!"
Dropping the corpse, Gunmar brandished his sword and lumbered forward. Arthur held Excalibur close and charged him with a battle cry.
The Gumm-Gumm King jumped into the air and held his vicious blade overhead. Arthur fixed his stance then, and he held fast as his foe came down upon him.
Their swords locked and they struggled to dominate the other. Both kings scowled and snarled, neither backing down.
Eventually, though, Arthur chose to relent and quickly hopped backwards.
Gunmar gave a triumphant shout and swung with his sword. Yet, Arthur was swift and dodged the attack before following up with a swing of his own.
Excalibur slashed across Gunmar's side and the beast howled in rage.
He threw his fist and struck Arthur across the face, sending him flying back.
The King of Camelot landed in a heap some ways away, mind addled and jarred.
"I can't wait to feast on your kingdom!"
Arthur held his head and looked up at the blurred image of Gunmar storming towards him.
Panting, he forced himself to rise. Though his face was numb, his side flared in pain, and a wet dribble flowed from his nose, he refused to concede.
"Nimue, grant me a blessing to strike down this tyrant."
King Arthur gripped Excalibur tightly and lifted it over his head. He brought it down as Gunmar swung up.
Their blades clashed and locked once more. Yet, this time, Excalibur burned golden as his heart burned with valor.
Gunmar roared and tried to press his weight against him. Yet, he did not falter.
Slowly, but surely, he forced the Gumm-Gumm King back enough to make a move.
Pooling his strength, he unleashed it in a shove that sent Gunmar staggering.
Arthur reared back the hand gripping Excalibur and then struck Gunmar across the face.
The brute staggered further, but then swung wildly in his panic.
Arthur was quick to bring his sword about and meet it. The blow sent Gunmar's vicious blade out his hand.
Unarmed, he was left open to Arthur's assault as the King of Camelot struck him with a fist before throwing his entire weight against his foe.
His shoulder collided with Gunmar's chest and threw him back. As the Gumm-Gumm King recovered, he spun and brought Excalibur about to slash him across the chest.
Gunmar raised an arm to take the blow, then threw his other out to punch him in the face again.
Arthur was shoved back a few paces, giving his opponent enough time to rise and manifest his Decimaar Blade.
"You fight well, little king!" He grinned sadistically and flourished his weapon. "But tonight, Mankind dies!"
Arthur said nothing, but instead wiped the blood from his split lip and spat the coppery taste from his mouth.
"No. Tonight, your tyranny ends!"
He charged and locked blades with the tyrant Gumm-Gumm once more.
Yet, this time, Gunmar did not struggle to overpower him. Instead, he smirked as his Decimaar Blade glowed ominously.
"Are you so sure, little king?"
Wispy tendrils of magic reached out from the cracks in it that burned poisonous green.
"What?" Arthur gawked as they latched onto him, like leeches draining him of his will.
"Submit!"
Gunmar rumbled with laughter as he felt his strength wane.
"No!" His body was tiring, his mind muddling. "I cannot- I will not… be… broken…."
"Hey, you one-eyed twit! Hands off his majesty!"
The Gumm-Gumm King perked up and looked over just as a bolt of azure magic struck him in the face.
He bellowed in fury before a rope of emerald magic coiled around him.
Suddenly, he was yanked back, and then swung overhead to slam into the ground.
"My king!" Merlin descended to kneel beside him as young Hisirdoux came sprinting to them. "Are you alright?"
Arthur nodded and coughed up blood. "His weapon… it drained me of my spirit."
Merlin's eyes narrowed, a dozen thoughts rushing through his mind before he gave a nod.
He helped him up, then gripped his staff as he held Excalbur close and Hisirdoux struck a pose.
Gunmar lumbered back over and growled. "What's wrong, Arthur? Not strong enough to face me alone?"
He grit his teeth, but Hisirdoux scoffed.
"Right? As if he'll fall for that one, mate!" The young wizard flourished his staff and lit its head with luminous magic. "Are we gonna get to it, or what?"
The trio charged into battle once again, overwhelming the Gumm-Gumm King with might and numbers.
Across the battlefield, Bular raged and swung his molten blades wildly. All the while, Angor Rot dodged nimbly and dashed about his opponent, cutting him with his knives.
"You think you can kill me with those pathetic blades?"
"Given time!" Angor leapt over him and slashed him across the back.
Multiple gashes across the Gumm-Gumm Prince's body burned hot and ebbed magma. The outlander was not untouched, however, his cloak gone and several straps of his harness cut or torn.
"You won't have a second longer!" Bular reared back as his maw blazed with fire.
Angor's eyes widened and he sought a means to evade.
Just as Bular let loose a breath of flames, a portal was torn open between them. The prince's fire was blasted through the shadowy depths and re-emerged from another portal behind him.
His own attack washed over his back and Bular roared in pain.
All the while, Angor gasped and darted his eyes about. "Bright Lady?"
Just then, a battle cry sounded behind Bular and the Troll named Jim appeared. He leapt over and slashed at his old foe, catching the top of his back before he landed beside Angor.
From a portal next to them, Lady Claire appeared.
"Hi!" She smiled and waved, then balled her fists as Bular turned to face them.
"Sorry we're late!" Jim hefted his appropriated sword.
Angor huffed and focused his mind again, twirling his knives and readying himself for another bout.
"Traitors!" Bular struck his molten blades against each other. "You disgrace our kind by fighting with these fleshlings!"
"Oh yeah?" Lady Claire smirked, then leaned over to press her lips on Jim's cheek.
Bular gawked. Angor arched a brow, but then dashed forward.
He slashed the Gumm-Gumm Prince across the side, then rolled between his legs to cut one or his ankles.
Bular howled, then snarled. He stomped where Angor's head had been, then swung a sword and gouged the earth just as his assailant rolled away.
Too focused on one target, he forgot Jim, who ran up and brought his weapon down on the butcher's shoulder.
Bular roared in agony, then lurched about and smacked his second opponent aside.
"Jim!" Claire reached for him, then glanced at Angor as he prepared to enter the fray again. "Hey, Angor!"
She opened a portal before the Outlander. He raised a brow, but she gestured for him to enter.
"Trust me!"
He pressed his lips tightly, then jumped in.
A moment later, a portal opened over Bular's right shoulder. The Gumm-Gumm Prince looked up in time to see Angor drop out.
He kicked Bular in the face, then fell into another portal. Soon, he reappeared from another behind the butcher and pounced on his back, sinking his knives into his shoulders before leaping off into yet another portal.
Claire continued to open and close them, all the while, Jim came to her side and batted away oncoming Gumm-Gumm berserkers trying to stop her.
From afar, the battle seemed one-sided. For all the men King Arthur lost, whole ranks of Gumm-Gumms were wiped out. The dark lord and his son were outmatched and edged towards defeat. Their army was breaking, Sir Lancelot and Sir Steve's cavalry charge continuing to harass and decimate swaths of the enemy horde.
"He is losing!" Nari sat anxiously, her face cross with horror and dread.
"No! This cannot be!" Bellroc gripped their staff and gnashed their teeth. "Enough of this! The reign of Man ends tonight!"
Skrael gaped and looked at them. "But, we cannot intervene-"
"We will do what must be done!"
"Oh, yeah! The bigger they are, the easier they are to- Ahh!" Steve yelped and held a hand over his eyes as the night sky lit up. "Hey! Who turned on the lights?"
Squinting past his fingers, he spied a blazing fire on top of the cliffs that towered over Killahead Bridge. It roared and grew brighter until it suddenly spat out a cluster of lights, each streaking across the sky.
"Whoa… Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" His awe was replaced with terror in an instant. "Incoming!"
Lancelot looked up to where he pointed with Toothache. His eyes widened immediately and he called back to their riders, "Brace yoursel-"
He never had the chance to finish, a fireball suddenly crashing into the ground in front of him. An explosion rang out, soon followed by more and more. Dirt and debris were spewed into the air as horses brayed in panic and men shouted in alarm.
Fireballs fell upon the cavalry, decimating their numbers in moments. Explosions blasted riders aside, throwing them into the air and onto the ground in broken heaps. Some were consumed entirely by flames and smoke, reduced to ash and molten armor.
Suddenly, their cavalry was reduced to a few stragglers desperately trying to navigate the chaos around them.
The Knights of the Round Table and their forces were in disarray too. Just as they'd been on the cusp of forcing the Gumm-Gumm horde to its knees, they were beset upon by hellfire raining from heaven above.
"Hold fast, men!" Sir Galahad waved his morning star about, trying to rally his troops. "We may have come to the very end of days!"
Shieldbearers struggled to hold back the Gumm-Gumms as they reclaimed their vigor. Spearmen and footmen fought hard, but fell beneath fists or upon blades.
The archers and crossbowmen who had attempted to whittle away at the far end of the enemy force were wiped out by the bombardment of fireballs. They threw themselves from their elevations, trying to escape a fiery death. Yet, they found themselves at the mercy of the trolls.
"Where is that coming from?"
Jim batted aside a Gumm-Gumm, then cut down another before turning his eyes to the sky. Beside him, Claire slowed in her spellcasting to look with him.
They studied the bombardment, tracking the magic artillery back to the cliffs over Killahead Bridge. There, they glimpsed a pillar of smoke just before it vanished.
Moments later, the heart of the battlefield erupted with flames, as if the valley had broken open and bled magma.
Smoke and fire dance in the air, rising high in a vortex that wiped away both men and Gumm-Gumms.
In the clearing of ash and soot that was left stood three, all too familiar figures.
"The Arcane Order?" Claire sucked in a breath, fear creeping into her heart. "They're here?"
The ancient sorcerers surveyed the culmination of their centuries of planning. The valley ran red with human blood and was decorated with the pulverized corpses of Gumm-Gumms. Flaming craters cast the battlefield in gold light, illuminating the red and grey around them.
The glint of steel drew their eyes to the gathering knights nearby, who gripped their swords and held their shields.
At the head of them, King Arthur stood tall and breathed in deep. Merlin stood beside him, along with Hisirdoux. Though bloodied and bruised, he did not show his exhaustion but instead held Excalibur close as he stared down the demons who'd orchestrated the fall of his kingdom.
Suddenly, they were joined by Gunmar, who grinned and hefted his Decimaar Blade. "You may have your own sorcerers, Arthur. But now, so do I!"
Arthur grit his teeth and bared them. Merlin scowled and Hisirdoux waved a hand over his bracer, preparing a spell.
Both sides stared down before Arthur held Excalibur aloft, lighting its blade bright.
"Stand together! We will not be broken!"
He gave a battle cry and charged forward. In turn, Gunmar roared and led his berserkers to meet his foe in the middle.
They locked blades as Knights held their ground and Gumm-Gumms threw themselves upon them.
Amidst clashing steel, the wizards faced the sorcerers in a dire spectacle.
Bellroc summoned a massive fireball and tossed it at Hisirdoux.
He raised a shield and let the flames wash over him. The footmen accompanying him were blasted away, leaving him standing alone.
Yet, with a flick of his left arm, he cast a spell and summoned a rope of light. It wrapped around the Keeper of the Flame, who shrieked and lit themselves aflame.
As he struggled with them, Merlin engaged Skrael and Nari.
The court wizard summoned emerald lightning from the head of his staff, letting it lash out at his opponents.
Skrael raised barriers of ice to defend himself, but they fell quickly against the elemental onslaught. Yet, in the brief respite he gained behind his defenses, the North Wind summoned his namesake.
Suddenly, the court wizard was enveloped in a blizzard, a gale of frost surrounding him. His sight became obscured and his body assaulted by the freezing cold.
He was swept up in the vortex for a time, unable to reclaim control of his flight. Yet, after a moment of detaching himself from the chaos, he willed himself to find his orientation.
Gritting his teeth, Merlin incanted and charged his staff, then shot to the ground and struck it.
The blizzard was dispelled in an instant as a bubble of emerald magic erupted from him. The winds were forced away and Skrael was thrown back.
However, just as Merlin rose back up, vines erupted from the ash-covered ground and wrapped around his limbs.
"What-" Merlin looked at the diminutive figure of Nari, who willed the very Earth to ensnare him.
All the while, King Arthur dueled Gunmar. They parried and blocked each other's attacks, constantly fighting back and forth. At times, they gave ground in order to gain more, only to lose it a moment later.
"This world may be vast, Arthur!" Gunmar locked blades with him, using his weight to press down upon him. "But there's only room for one king to conquer it all!"
Arthur grunted as his body screamed. He strained against his rival, his strength waning.
Yet, he refused to fall.
"You are wrong, Gunmar!" Arthur pushed back, Excalibur shining against the Decimaar Blade. "No matter how vast the world may be, it belongs to no single tyrant!”
He yelled and forced the dark lord back, their blades sparking upon each other.
Gunmar snarled and pivoted his arm, sending Excalibur scraping along down the Decimaar Blade.
Just as they disengaged, the Gumm-Gumm King threw a fist and struck Arthur across the face.
The King of Camelot reeled, then grunted as Gunmar kicked him in the stomach.
His feet flew out from under him, and he fell upon his chest. Dirt and ash filled his mouth, but he spat out the debris and wiped the blood from his split lip.
"I've waited an eternity for this moment!" Gunmar towered over him, his sword raised high and a fanged, bloodthirsty grin crossing his face. "Now, it ends!"
Arthur pushed himself up onto one knee and panted ragged breaths.
"You may cut me down, Gunmar. But others will rise to oppose you!"
"Then, they'll die too-”
“Enough!”
Without warning, an ear-splitting crack echoed across the world.
Gunmar stalled and Arthur looked up. The cacophony of war stilled to a silence as all combatants turned their eyes to the fractured sky, its starry surface bleeding golden light.
Suddenly then, the gates of heaven shattered and poured celestial wrath upon the marred battlefield.
Glittery bolts of golden magic rained down from above, striking Gumm-Gumms as they watched in awe. As the first few exploded into chunks of stone and dust, the rest panicked and fled, seeking cover. They did not make it far, most falling under the bombardment.
All the while, the Knights of the Round Table looked on at heaven’s shattered gates, rimmed with burning light and leading into an abyss beyond.
From that abyss, though, descended a golden figure, wreathed in shining might.
“Morgana?” Arthur gaped at the beacon of hope masquerading as his sister.
The Bright Lady—as Angor Rot had titled her—said nothing as she surveyed the valley and its occupants. In one hand, she wielded her Shadow Staff, its head sparkling with seething magic. Her other hand clenched tightly as the golden corona around her brightened hotter and hotter until she launched herself into the heart of the Gumm-Gumm ranks.
There was a flash, then a flare. The world rocked and quaked as the land ruptured. The air trembled, then stilled as cries and roars filled the air for a brief moment.
Then, as the smoke cleared, Morgana rose up amidst a smoking crater and held her Shadow Staff aloft.
“Knights of the Round Table! Rally and fight as one!” She leapt up and levitated above the ground, burning bright once more. “For Camelot!”
Her voice echoed across the battlefield, ringing in the ears of all who heard her.
A second passed, then another. All stared in shock and awe.
Then, Sir Galahad unleashed a vigorous battle cry and charged forward. “For Camelot!”
He picked up a fallen standard, waving the blue threads bearing the crest of Camelot as he surged into the Gumm-Gumm horde.
Other knights around him unleashed their own voices, matching his renewed vigor and courage as they picked up their weapons and followed him into the fray.
Hisridoux, who’d looked on with stunned awe, grinned and summoned his magic into his hands. “Tenebris exilium!”
He struck down a group of berserkers as Archie circled him and breathed dragon fire upon any Gumm-Gumm that dared to assault his partner.
Merlin, all the while, incanted a spell and cast emerald lightning along their foe’s forces.
The tide had turned once more, and Gunmar was none too happy.
“This cannot be!” The Skullcrusher bellowed and looked about his breaking horde. “Bular!”
His son did not hear him, too busy battling two humans and two trolls. He made to aid him, only to watch as enormous tentacles suddenly lashed out from the treeline, grabbing his son and tossing him away into the Wild Wood.
Gunmar gaped, then grimaced.
“Sorcerers!” He batted aside a knight and looked to the Arcane Order, who summoned fire, ice, and vegetation to fend off the reinvigorated humans. “Do something! You promised me triumph!”
They visibly scowled at him, none too happy at his demanding tone.
Yet, before they could refuse and retreat, or attempt a spellcast that might decimate the human forces, a war horn bellowed.
Behind the Gumm-Gumm horde, an army of trolls appeared, composed of nothing more than miners and craftsmen. Yet, there was a fire in their eyes and a gleam to their picks, blades, knives, and makeshift spears.
“Hey! Need a hand?”
In the moments that followed, history was written and remembered.
The Trolls of Dwoza charged as their leader donned a suit of magic armor, summoning it with an incantation that rang loudly over the symphony of war, “For the glory of Merlin! Daylight is mine to command!”
Morgana ducked beneath a Gumm-Gumm’s swing and swept their legs from under them before she blasted another back with a burst of magic.
Twirling her Shadow Staff, she parried a blow and then caught a blade between the prongs of her weapon. Forcing it up, she brought the staff down and impaled its sharpened tip into the troll’s chest.
It perished as another charged her from behind. Its careless attempt on her life, though, was met with a quick end as she threw her left elbow back, the blade mounted on her forearm driving into the Gumm-Gumm’s head.
Pulling herself free from the petrified corpses, she looked around to see where she would be needed next-
“Morgana!”
She made to turn, but froze when she registered her brother’s voice.
Fear crippled her as his hulking form collided with her, sending them both tumbling head over heels until they lay in a heap upon the ashen ground.
“Brother?” She tried to rise, only to be weighed down by his bulk. “Arthur?”
She grunted and wheezed, heaving him up enough to climb out from beneath him.
Using her Shadow Staff to push herself up, she glanced down at her brother. She scanned his armored figure, the steel plates marred by scratches and dents. Blood and soot covered it, that was until they reached a molten hole burrowing into his chest.
Her breath left her as she realized the meaning behind his sudden appearance.
“Such foolish heroism!” Bellroc came waddling over, cradling another fireball in their hand. “And yet, how delightful.”
Morgana gave the ancient sorcerer no heed, instead dropping back down to her knees to cradle her brother’s body.
“Arthur!” She held his head and examined the wound.
She knew it was too late. She could heal flesh and muscle, but not charred hearts or ashen lungs.
Still, though, she tried.
Holding one hand over his chest, she willed her magic to weave tissue and repair bone. All the while, Arthur coughed blood and wheezed with agonizing labor.
“Morgana.” He placed a hand over hers, gripping it tightly. “Sister… I’m sorry.”
“No!” Her throat seized as her voice cracked. “You’ll live! I won’t let you-”
“I’m sorry….” He choked on blood and hacked it up, letting it dribble from the corner of his mouth. “Camelot cannot… fall… Fight… for our home….”
He looked her in the eye and stared. Though they were unfocused and near glassy, she could still see the fire in them burning brightly.
“Sorcerer!”
Morgana looked up as the massive form of Gunmar waded through the battle, storming towards Bellroc.
“Arthur was my kill!”
“His death was our goal!”
“His death was my reward!” The Skullcrusher swung a hand to smack them away, only for Bellroc to disappear in a puff of flames.
He growled and looked around, then set his eyes upon her.
“You….” The Gumm-Gumm King lurched towards her as she rose up, handling her Shadow Staff in both hands. “You are of Arthur’s blood?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
He rumbled, still infuriated by his denied glory. “I guess I’ll just have to taste your blood instead of his!”
Gunmar towered over her, prodigious in size and enormity. Already, she trembled with barely held grief and now she withered beneath his malevolency.
Yet, as he leered at her with his single eye, she felt her pain begin to burn. The agony of loss lit like dry wood sparked into a fire. It blazed and grew hotter, becoming anger that grew into fury.
Her grief-addled mind focused on a single goal: Taking Gunmar’s head.
An unholy battle cry erupted from her mouth as she launched herself forward, her emerald hand clenched into a fist that struck the right side of Gunmar’s jaw.
The Gumm-Gumm King recoiled from the blow, both from the force and the sudden shock. As he stumbled back, she held herself in the air and gripped her Shadow Staff in both hands.
She swung from her right side, striking him on the other side of his jaw.
He stumbled further as his mind recovered from the audacity of her attacks.
“You dare?” Gunmar attempted to lunge forward and grab her in his arms.
Morgana shot upwards, but gasped as her foot became caught in his grasp.
Suddenly, she was brought back down, slamming into the Earth. The air left her lungs as her stomach churned and vision wobbled.
Her ears rang and she felt weightless before a fist crashed into her stomach.
Gunmar rose up, chuckling to himself as she lay curled up, holding her stomach as she dry heaved. “Lie down and die, fleshling!”
“Hey, pebbles-for-brains!”
The Gumm-Gumm King perked up and glanced over as a flash of silver appeared behind him.
“Did you know it isn’t nice to hit a lady!”
The Trollhunter leaped over him and slashed him across the chest, compelling Gunmar to clutch the wound and bellow in rage.
Deya landed next to Morgana and flourished Daylight.
“You alright?”
The armor-donned troll glanced at the sorceress, who struggled to rise.
“No….” She fought the urge to expel the contents of her stomach. “But I can still fight.”
Deya nodded, then turned to Gunmar, who… held a four-armed troll in his clawed grasp.
“Blinky?” Deya gasped as Morgana arched her brow, trying to understand the troll’s significance.
"No! Please!" Blinkous Galadrigal cried out as the Skullcrusher prepared to impale him. “I only meant to stall you, oh- uh- malevolent overlord?”
Gunmar was unamused by his groveling, and instead roared.
“Release him, Gunmar!” Morgana willed her magic to build within her, becoming a well of energy she drew on to rise up and stand tall.
The Skullcrusher faltered, then reared a vicious scowl at her. “He’s a traitor to my kind! He deserves nothing less than the agony I’ll-”
He was cut off without warning, a feral roar echoing across the valley and making the world quake with fear.
All eyes turned as the largest Gumm-Gumm any man or troll had ever seen climbed over Killahead Bridge.
“General Aaarrrgghh!” Gunmar grinned at his mightiest pawn’s return. “You’ve finally arrived!”
The hulking mass of stone and moss rumbled with primal rage as Blinkous trembled. Arthur and Morgana readied themselves to face the brute as he dropped down beside his master.
“Aaarrrgghh?” Blinkous quaked and tried to extend his sympathy.
“Come, general!” Gunmar threw the four-armed troll at his feet. “Make an example of-”
Without warning, Aaarrrgghh threw a massive fist and punched the Gumm-Gumm King in the face.
“Wha- You-” Gunmar stammered in shock, then snarled in fury. “You would betray-”
Aaarrrgghh didn’t let him finish again, immediately throwing himself against his former king.
Grabbing him by the shoulders, he smashed him into a boulder and then threw him against another. While Gunmar was stunned, Aaarrrgghh reared back a fist and proceeded to wail on him relentlessly. “You! Talk! Too! Much!”
Blinkous gawked, then cheered at his apparent comrade’s rebellion. Morgana stared with wide-eyes and a slack jaw. And Deya blinked, then shrugged.
“Well, that solves that- Whoa!”
The Trollhunter jumped away as a fireball sailed past her.
Morgana turned with a sick feeling in her gut, knowing full well where the shot had come from.
Bellroc stood atop a stone precipice, leering at them with tongues of fire in the eye sockets of her bird skull adornment.
“Pathetic cretins!” they crooned, waving their staff high and summoning a ring of fire above their head. “Why won’t you lay down and die!”
Bellroc made to sling the ring of fire at them, but Morgana was quick to unleash her own arcane might, “Ortum obumbratio!”
The shadows lengthened, then rose up and took shape in her image. Shadowy specters mirroring her visage cackled and jumped forward, meeting the ring of fire in a wanton charge.
An explosion rang out, accompanied by the shrieks of her dopplegangers as they were reduced to ash and smoke.
A dark cloud was all that remained, hanging in the air before it burst open as Bellroc flew through.
“Perish, simple creatures!”
The bladed tip of their staff glinted in the moonlight as it bore down upon them. Both Deya and Morgana jumped away, dodging the strike.
Yet, before they could bring their weapons about, Bellroc lashed out with a plume of flames that sent them flying apart.
Morgana landed in a heap, clutching her side and tasting blood in her mouth. Spitting the coppery flavor into the ash-caked grass, she propped herself up on a stone and looked up as Bellroc loomed over her.
“Such wasted potential.” They raised their staff, ready to impale her with it. “Goodbye, child-”
“Oh no you don’t!”
Deya appeared, jumping onto the sorcerer’s back and holding on tight.
Bellroc shrieked and thrashed about, trying to shake her off. All the while, Deya tightened her grip and forced them to struggle harder, all the while letting Daylight drop from her hands.
The enchanted sword landed on the ground before Morgana, glowing with ethereal magic.
Before she knew it, she had taken Daylight into her own hands and charged her would-be patron with renewed vigor.
The Keeper of the Flame reared their skull-adorned head towards her just as she swung.
The blade cleaved through ancient bone, shattering it to dust and debris. Bellroc recoiled with a scream, a hand slapping over their face before pulling away as molten lava poured from their wounded eyes.
Morgana stared in shock and horror, bearing witness to the true lengths of inhumanity of the sorcerer before her.
Bellroc never turned back to her, but instead let loose a cry before being consumed by flames and smoke, disappearing from the battle.
She would have stared a moment longer, her mind boggled by what she had seen. However, a flare of azure light and an eruption of magic claimed her attention as she looked back towards where Deya had been.
Killahead Bridge was open, the Amulet of Daylight blazing in its headstone.
Gumm-Gumm trolls were being dragged into the portal, some unable to escape the vacuum while others attempted to dig their claws into the Earth.
Yet, their attempts were futile and they were pulled through into their prison.
Very quickly, all that remained was Gunmar, who had impaled his Decimaar Blade into the ground.
Morgana clenched her jaw and summoned golden magic into her palms.
The Gumm-Gumm King looked up as she approached, unwavering to the portal’s reach.
“It ends now.”
With a vigorous cry, she raised her arms overhead and unleashed arcs of golden lightning. Each bolt carved up the ash-caked earth, tearing up soil and breaking stones.
Many gouged the land beneath Gunmar’s feet, loosening his sword’s hold before finally releasing him to the mercy of the portal.
“No!” The Gumm-Gumm King tumbled through the air before finally disappearing into the depths of his prison.
Moments later, the portal closed. The air stilled. The world waited, holding a bated breath to see if there was a final climax to bear witness too.
However, none came.
The battlefield remained silent, save for the crackling of fire and the clink of steel plates as the Knights of the Round Table surveyed the valley.
“We won.” Deya stood up, taking the Amulet back into her hands. “We won!”
Murmurs sounded around them, soon followed by ringing cheers of triumph.
Morgana felt the urge to smile, but it was quickly weighed down by urgency as Merlin’s apprentice appeared.
“Lady Morgana!” Hisirdoux was pale, his attire battleworn. “It’s Arthur, he-”
She did not let him finish, instead pushing past him and flying towards where she’d last seen him.
It took some time, searching the area around her for his figure. Steel armor littered the marred earth, all broken and disfigured.
Ultimately, it was the collection of those who’d attempted to dissuade her from her attempt at deposing her brother that led her to him.
“Morgana!” Fair Lady Claire looked up at her, her face pale too.
Beside the witch, the troll she’d been so fond of flicked his eyes up in surprise, then regret.
She eyed them, then looked to the third figure who knelt beside the King of Camelot, Arthur’s own court wizard and her mentor.
“Merlin?” She stepped towards him, but he dared not meet her eyes.
“He’s held on. For you, I believe.” He stood up, eyes boring into the ground as he moved back to give them room. “He doesn’t have long, however.”
She was on her knees quickly, shuffling over to hold her brother in her arms once more.
“Arthur?”
“...Morgana?”
She breathed heavily, almost panting as her heart thundered and ears rang. Joy overflowed within her as grief welled beneath it.
The very sight of his pale face and broken form left her cold. Hollow.
“Stay with me, brother.”
“I… Cannot….” His hand found hers, clutching gently. “I failed you, Morgana… I should have listened.”
“No! No….” She choked on a sob, tears dripping from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have-... I didn’t-....”
Her words were lost to her. How could she express the chaotic storm of emotions within her, yearning to preach about her own misgivings and shortcomings.
In the end, she could not give either.
In the end, Arthur was the one who let it all go.
“Hear me… sister… Loss made me a tyrant… do not… let it… claim you….”
His hand went slack. His eyes lost focus. His breath left him and his labored face lost its strength.
The battle was won. But the king was dead.
Notes:
The battle is won, and now our heroes go their separate ways.
I'll be releasing an epilogue soon. (Hopefully)
Some things of note:
-A majority of this chapter was me researching medieval battle tactics and strategy to make it feel like a full battle.
-A lot of the fighting was inspired by the Halo Wars 2 cinematic trailer. (Because I love that game's setting and story)
-I tried my best to make the battle flow easily and not make it feel drawn out. (I'm not sure if it worked or not)
Thanks for reading, everyone!
I'll be seeing you soon!
Chapter 7: Epilogue
Summary:
The king is dead. The heroes go home. And a new journey begins.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was buried beneath the mystical isle of Avalon, his final resting place forever hidden by a veil of mists.
The procession had been silent, none speaking a word. All held nothing but grief in their hearts as their king was carried before the ranks of his surviving Knights of the Round Table, every oathsworn warrior bowing their head in reverence.
Those who bore the weight of his lifeless body were of his most loyal and most trustworthy. They had stood at the war table with him, feasted heartily with him, and now they laid him to rest within a tomb of Merlin’s design.
The Court Wizard himself—who had served Arthur’s father and then served him—spoke not a word until the King of Camelot lay slumbering forevermore upon a slab of stone, wreathed by candles and offerings.
“King Arthur of Camelot served his people well….” Merlin breathed in, his tired eyes surveying the narrow hall filled by Arthur’s confidants and allies. “At times, he allowed fear and grief to drive him to aggression. But, it was those failing that taught him to become a better man. To become a better king….”
Merlin glanced at Morgana, who stood stiff and silent between Hisirdoux and Lady Claire.
She had long run out of tears, her face pale and eyes bloodshot. She’d changed from her armor and worn robes, dressing in more regal and appropriate attire. Yet, no matter how much she had bathed and how much she had tried to piece herself back together, her broken heart was bare for all to see.
Her eyes never left the altar upon which Arthur lay, as if she were waiting for him to awaken and rise once more.
Her hands were clasped together tightly, though her fingers scratched against her knuckles and her thumbs against her palms. The blood of her brother had washed off so long ago, but she still felt it drying and sticking in every wrinkle and crevice.
Merlin breathed in once more before he continued on, “But no king, great or mighty, may rule forever…. So, it is with heavy hearts that we now lay him to rest. His duty fulfilled, and his kingdom secured.”
"So, this is it then?" Morgana studied the faces of her heroes, the brave youths who’d crossed time and space to steer her from a dark path.
Hisirdoux—or 'Douxie', as he’d preferred—rubbed his arm and shrugged his shoulders. He wore an apologetic smile, one that spoke of his weariness to leave and his weariness to stay.
Lady Claire clung to the troll Jim, both watching with doleful gazes. They wore their battleworn armor still, showing the trials and tribulations they had endured.
Sir Steve was… too busy posing in his custom-tailored suit of armor to take part in goodbyes.
“Yeah… I guess this is.” Douxie rubbed his hand and then the back of his neck. “It was… good, seeing you become good.”
She gave an amused look and then a light laugh. “I am thankful that you showed me my own hubris. I fear what I might’ve become had I truly struck my brother down….”
The wounds were still fresh. They still bled and burned with grief.
Morgana fought down the urge to tear up, to remember what she had lost.
As she did, though, Lady Claire stepped over to take her emerald hand and squeeze it.
“What matters now is that you’re better than who you could’ve been.” She offered her sympathies in a look, a smile, and a gentle caress.
She stared at the younger girl- No, a woman—who had endured so much in such little time.
Slowly, she nodded and breathed in. It was then that Merlin appeared, arriving with the Time Map in one hand and staff in the other.
“Forgive my tardiness.” Bags weighed under the old man’s eyes. “I was preoccupied with sending the Trolls on their way to the West and preparing our own Hisirdoux on his own journey.”
Douxie perked up at that. “You told him about the man bun?”
“To not wear it?” Merlin scratched his beard, then shrugged. “Perhaps?”
“Ugh! Great….”
Morgana shared a laugh with Claire and Jim, then she turned to Merlin once more.
“Is it ready?”
“Yes.” Her former master approached the Heart of Avalon and climbed its steps to set the Time Map upon a pedestal.
The mystical device pulsed with magic, exuding power as it spun faster. The Time Map itself continued to fluctuate between azure and scarlet, its original timeline lost.
However, it might yet be found.
“So, could you go over the plan again?” Jim stepped up, clutching the jagged shard impaled in his chestplate. “You two think you can stabilize the rift?”
“That is correct.” Merlin gestured to her, then back to himself. "Together, we may be able to help you find your way home. Or, if not, then at least deliver you to your altered future."
It was then that Sir Steve decided to join them, strolling over with his weapon shouldered. "But, I thought that was impossible?"
"It might as well be.” Morgana steepled her fingers and chose her words carefully. “The Time Map is exactly that, a chart depicting the flow of time. With it, we can look back to the past and attempt to decipher the future. Applied to the Heart of Avalon, it will allow you to navigate the pathways of time.” She paused to breathe in and judge their reactions before continuing on. “That being said, because of the changes we've made, time is now in flux."
"It's in what now?"
Steve scratched his head while the others hummed.
Merlin coughed to catch their attention, then picked up where she had left off. "Listen closely. Imagine time—fate, even—as a tapestry. The threads that compose it have unraveled and have begun to reweave themselves, only to unravel and reweave with every possible change."
“So… like a Rubik’s cube?”
They stared at him in confusion. His friends, likewise, groaned and rubbed their forehead.
“No, Steve.” Claire closed her eyes, breathed in, and sighed. “It’s like… uh… ordering a pizza, but they keep changing the toppings.”
“Oh… That sucks.”
A forlorn expression covered the blonde knight’s face while Morgana and Merlin stared at him in utter confusion.
“Okay then. Putting that aside....” Morgana retrieved her Shadow Staff from her waist, expanding it to its full length. "In order to get home, you'll need help navigating the timelines. That is where Merlin and I come in. Together, we will control the rift so you do not become lost on the ever-changing roadways within.”
“Blimey….” Douxie held his forehead and stared off into space. “That doesn’t sound terrifying in the slightest.”
Merlin bowed his head then, sighing in defeat. “It is the best, and only solution we can offer, I’m afraid.”
“Well, we’ve survived worse!” Claire hugged Jim’s arm, holding him close. “And we’ll survive this too!”
Morgana watched them and smiled, but then she frowned when Jim’s face turned dark. Fear and guilt crossed his features, veiling his elation in shadows until his countenance was burdened.
“Claire….”
“Hm?”
“Jim?” Douxie looked over with a weary gaze. “Are you sure?”
The troll said nothing, merely nodding with a grim expression.
“Jim? What’s wrong?” Lady Claire’s composure fractured, fear picking away at her confidence.
Morgana glanced at Merlin, wondering if he had any part in this sudden drama. Her suspicions were confirmed when she spied him turning his eyes to the ground, the shame of failure evident on his face.
Lady Claire wailed them, clutching her lover’s arms tightly as he exposed the tragic truth. The shard in his chest plate was no decoration, but his inevitable killer.
“But- It stopped when we came here!” Claire threw an arm out and then smiled in vain hope. “We can stay until we can find a cure-”
“That is not an option.” Merlin did not look them in the eye as he clutched his staff tightly. “The Heart of Avalon collected enough magic from the opening of Killahead Bridge for only one journey. And even now, that magic wanes.”
“But-”
“But, nothing… I wish I could save him… I’ve lost too many people already.” Merlin looked up with tired eyes. “But, I fear the only salvation you may find is through the rift. I hope that my future self may aid you. And if not, then a miracle may find you.”
None spoke after that, their spirits weighed down by the terrible burden of knowing the inevitable death of their friend awaited them in their own time.
Morgana watched them board their levitating ship, then watched as they sailed up to the sky.
“Morgana.”
She turned to Merlin, who stood atop the steps of the Heart.
Giving a nod, she joined him, and together they reached out to manipulate the Heart’s magic.
The rings revolving around the core spun faster until they slowed to a stop. Crystal lenses aligned themselves and looked to the heavens before discharging a beam of emerald magic to tear open time and space.
“Now, Morgana!”
She said nothing and instead focused all her willpower onto latching onto the Heart of Avalon.
Her golden magic washed over it before taking on the likeness of a bright web stretched across the seething sphere. She twisted her hands and curled her fingers, forcing the arc of the universe to bend to her will.
It was stubborn. No. Stubborn was too… mundane.
She was attempting to command the very laws of reality. Her actions were blasphemous in the face of celestial rules, ancient restrictions put forth by the nascent cosmos itself.
“I- I can’t control it!”
“You can! You must!”
Her teeth grinded against each other as she fixed her stance and squeezed her eyes so hard she feared she might tear their lids.
A sudden surge of magic nearly swept her off her feet, and she knew then that the time travelers had begun their journey home.
Their souls appeared in the dark of her absent vision, twinkling stars in a void.
Suddenly, though, they were riding atop a stream of temporal energy—their own personal timeline.
They were reaching its end, where it would need to reach another reality or loop back to their own.
“Trace their timeline back to its source!” Merlin called from afar.
Morgana grunted and willed herself to look back, following their actions and choices across weeks to a different place and time.
The four youths stood within Camelot, but its halls were empty and dark. Merlin was there, but even if he appeared the same, the weariness still lingered on his figure.
Suddenly, the floating keep was assaulted by an eldritch head composed of steel and flames. Ice and fire erupted from it, along with hatred. Rage. Vengeance.
She nearly flinched and lost her grip on the timeline. Yet, summoning her strength, she endured and reached out to grasp the end of their journey to bring it back.
There was a flash. A flare.
And then, their timeline stretched onwards.
Morgana watched in awe as their journey reached a golden horizon atop a black sun, riding on the causal waves of an endless sea of time.
"Morgana!"
Her eyes snapped open as her feet left the ground.
Wisps of magic ensnared her, bound her limbs and body. A force was beckoning her forward, willing her to enter the light.
She saw Merlin reaching for her, but it was too late.
The Heart of Avalon erupted with bright light and temporal magic as it drew her in, pulling her from her place in this world and tossing her haphazardly into the rift.
Morgana LeFay drifted through eternity, a finite pebble drowning in the vastness of infinity.
She tumbled past time and space, hurtling through a vortex of past, present, and future.
Timestreams surrounded her, tunnels of kaleidoscopic light representing unfolding events.
At one time, she tried to reach for corporeality, but could not grasp the ever-changing threads of fate. She had swiped and swung, attempting to swim through the dark and light to find some footing in this ever-morphing landscape.
It was on her seventh try- Or her seven-hundredth? Her thousandth?
She did not know days apart from seconds. She did not know eternity from ephemerality.
All that was, was everything.
But then, her fingers dipped into the ontological properties of a timeline where a boy had claimed an Amulet.
Darkness. Then, light.
Morgana fell to her knees and gasped for air, her lungs empty until they were too full.
She coughed and held her chest, hand pawing scale mail then a chestplate.
She looked down at herself, finding golden armor on her figure. Amber shards littered the ground around her. And the ground around her was etched stone depicting some form of mural—but the shapes she could not make any sense of with her addled mind.
Enormous crystals sprouted around her, acting as kaleidoscopic walls barring her in some chamber filled with amber shards.
“Who are you?”
Morgana gasped and fell backwards, landing with a grunt.
Her eyes darted around, searching for a figure or a shadow. None appeared.
“You dare infest my body? Defile my temple?”
“Aagh!” A hot spike drove into her head and she clutched her scalp.
However, clawed fingers scraped a many-horned helm, and she paused.
The pain ceased, as if her sudden tormentor had recognized her own shock and dread.
Summoning what strength she had, Morgana rose onto wobbly legs and stumbled into a crystal. Scratching its surface with her emerald hand donned in golden claws, she looked at her reflection.
The Pale Lady looked back.
Morgana tried to speak. To rationalize. To at least understand.
Yet, her throat was dry and her heart was racing. Her brain pulsed and mind thrummed with a chaotic storm of thoughts. A maelstrom of theories and horrifying beliefs crashed into each other like foot soldiers charging head long into the fray and meeting in the middle.
“What happened?” She tried to calm herself. At best, she steadied her breathing.
“You shattered my prison.”
She twisted around, searching for the voice’s owner. No one was there, save her.
“Who’s there?”
“Shouldn’t you know, darling? You stormed in here, took my body, and now act like the victim.”
Morgana rubbed her jaw, then looked at her reflection.
The Pale Lady glared at her. “Wait… You’re familiar….”
Morgana blinked and stood rigid. “You’re-”
“Me.”
Notes:
It has begun.
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The_Traveller on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Aug 2020 04:50AM UTC
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Patricia Louise Peña (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Aug 2020 10:29AM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 1 Sat 15 Aug 2020 09:41PM UTC
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Darkghost (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 31 Aug 2020 11:12PM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Sep 2020 03:45AM UTC
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Stories_from_Unicron on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Sep 2020 12:06AM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Sep 2020 05:31AM UTC
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MidnightLightHowlite on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Mar 2021 11:47PM UTC
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Poisedava on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Aug 2021 06:38PM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Aug 2021 10:42PM UTC
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CoolestZed on Chapter 1 Wed 24 Jan 2024 03:49AM UTC
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Dressed_like_Colors on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Apr 2025 12:50AM UTC
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Patricia Louise Peña (Guest) on Chapter 2 Tue 18 Aug 2020 08:24AM UTC
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Stories_from_Unicron on Chapter 2 Sun 06 Sep 2020 12:10AM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 2 Sun 06 Sep 2020 05:55AM UTC
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MidnightLightHowlite on Chapter 2 Sun 14 Mar 2021 12:00AM UTC
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Dressed_like_Colors on Chapter 2 Wed 09 Apr 2025 01:14AM UTC
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Nixramor (Guest) on Chapter 3 Tue 25 Aug 2020 09:46PM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 3 Tue 25 Aug 2020 11:02PM UTC
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Stories_from_Unicron on Chapter 3 Sun 06 Sep 2020 12:28AM UTC
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MidnightLightHowlite on Chapter 3 Sun 14 Mar 2021 06:41AM UTC
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Dressed_like_Colors on Chapter 3 Wed 09 Apr 2025 01:36AM UTC
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HannaVictoria on Chapter 4 Tue 25 Aug 2020 09:56PM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 4 Tue 25 Aug 2020 11:03PM UTC
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Stories_from_Unicron on Chapter 4 Sun 06 Sep 2020 12:35AM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 4 Sun 06 Sep 2020 07:45PM UTC
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Dressed_like_Colors on Chapter 4 Wed 09 Apr 2025 02:42AM UTC
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Lana (Guest) on Chapter 5 Sat 29 Aug 2020 11:24PM UTC
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Apex_Primus on Chapter 5 Sun 30 Aug 2020 04:45AM UTC
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