3.56 – Revelations

The pain was gone.

Morgana groaned. The feeling of weightlessness that had enveloped her faded away. Her body stirred, fingers twitching as the sorceress regained consciousness.

It took a while for her senses to come back. They returned to her one by one, slowly floating up from the depths of oblivion.

Her sight returned first. As Morgana opened her eyes, blinking against the incessant pull of sleep, none of her surroundings looked familiar. The world around her was an odd, vivid, intensely colourful blur. It was too vibrant. Too bright. At first, Morgana was convinced that she hadn’t woken up at all. That she was still dreaming. Slowly, her blurred vision began to shape into clusters of flowers, their petals swaying underneath a bright purple sky.

It had to be a dream.

With a groan, Morgana pushed herself up from the ground. She could feel the sensation of moss and earth beneath her fingers. Morgana smelled the scent of flowers around her; a strange, sweet aroma that drifted through the air. The sorceress could hear the sounds of birds in the distance. It sounded oddly ethereal, ringing out in an array of tones that shouldn’t have been possible.

None of it was familiar.
Morgana had no idea where she was.

The sorceress blinked. She could see green foliage ahead of her, leading up to what looked like a stone base. She’d lost consciousness at that ruin in the forest. But this wasn’t the same ruin as the one with her faerie circle. It was someplace else. Morgana could remember stepping through the circle, falling and wishing to go nowhere. Wishing to vanish. She’d just wanted to disappear. The sorceress hadn’t thought that she’d actually wind up… anywhere.

Where was she?

Morgana shook her head, shaking off the last cobwebs in her mind as she finally looked up—

And her breath abruptly got caught in her throat.

Her thoughts faded away, dissolving into the purple sky above as she gazed at the massive, ancient structure that loomed over her. She could see the old cracks in the wall, the age of the towers in front of her. To the sorceress, it looked almost like a temple… but no temple of the Watcher had ever looked like this.

Morgana could see enormous clusters of ivy and vines climbing up the sides of the temple. They weaved through the cracks in the walls, curling around the open archways and holding the crumbling structure together. Dozens of fireflies drifted through the air, lazily floating in between the temple walls. The sight of it all was unlike anything she’d ever seen…

And there was not a single Watcher symbol in sight.

Morgana wasn’t sure how she knew. She just did. She could feel it, instinctively realising that the temple in front of her did not house the same Watcher that her uncle preached about. It didn’t house the Watcher at all. Instead, Morgana could sense something much, much older. Something primal- something that had existed long before the Jacoban and Peteran beliefs had sprung into existence. Morgana could feel its pull, could sense the immense outpouring of spirit that radiated from the temple in front of her. It was overwhelming.

It was… calling to her.

Inviting her in.

Something… was calling to her.

Slowly, Morgana walked through the gate, entering the temple grounds. She didn’t know where she was going. She had no idea where the path would lead. The sorceress moved on instinct, following the faint pull of magic that was drawing her in.
As Morgana passed through archway after archway, moving closer and closer to the heart of the temple, part of her had expected to run into someone. Another human. A Fae like Lincoln. Something in between.
Anyone.

But not a single creature appeared. Morgana saw no movement anywhere. She heard no conversation. No sounds of laughter. Not even the faintest of whispers. Other than the fireflies, the temple seemed to be completely abandoned. Unused. Deserted, left to be overgrown with plant life and long since forgotten to time.

Morgana was alone.

She didn’t know… why that made her feel so sorrowful.

As she passed an archway to her left, the sorceress could feel her feet suddenly stop. For a moment, she wasn’t sure why. Then, her mind caught up to her instincts. The hairs on her arms rose up as a strange shiver travelled through her spine.
Something was there.
Morgana could sense it. There was something – something that felt oddly familiar – lying just beyond that wall. She felt herself being pulled towards it, drawn closer like a moth to a flame.

Her feet automatically changed direction. As her legs carried her towards the staircase, she could feel the tips of her fingers start tingling. The feeling slowly spread through her arm, getting stronger and stronger the closer she got to the entryway. She’d felt something like this before. In the back of her mind, the witch could hear Morgause’s voice as a memory floated to the surface.

“Sabhael?”
“Yes. It’s a hidden site, forgotten by most of the world around us. It’s a safe haven to everyone that can hear the Goddess.”

She’d felt this before.

As Morgana reached the top of the stairs, placing a hand on the archway, the witch could feel herself slipping into a trance. She could feel the magick around her, the spirit that enveloped the entirety of this temple. Morgana felt oddly at peace. Oddly connected to the space around her. With every step that she took, that feeling grew in strength.

She didn’t resist.
She didn’t want to.

She wanted to know.

She wanted to know what was calling for her.

–

–

As Morgana gazed at the scene in front of her, dumbstruck and completely unable to move…

Something in that ethereal, sun-lit courtyard began to change.

Gradually, the sorceress could see the inside of the archway shift. Wisps of energy began to gather in the center. They seeped in from everywhere, even rising up from the ground. Before too long, the wall behind the archway had vanished entirely, overtaken and replaced by a strange, ever-shifting veil.

No…
Not a veil.

A doorway.

Morgana could feel a strange pressure bearing down on her shoulders, like something intangible was gazing down on her. She could hear the space around her. A faint, almost ethereal sound drifted through the chamber, echoing across the walls and traveling right through her before fading away. She could hear the faintest echo of whispers drifting out – and this time, Morgana instantly realised its origin.

It was coming from beyond the archway.

The sorceress had felt this before.

She knew what it was.

“A nexus?”

“Yes. It’s an ancient place of power that has been protected by our people for generations. That’s what you see around you, Morgana.”

“Magick?”

“Spirit. In its truest form.”

“Don’t you see? We are all connected, Morgana. No matter where we are. We are all one. We’re all connected through spirit. Through magick.”

It was the same.
And yet…

Something about this place… wasn’t.

It was something else entirely.

Morgana could feel the enormous power radiating from the veil, her limbs tingling with energy as the massive amount of spirit poured out from the archway. She could sense the spirit from the veil enveloping her, bringing with it other presences that touched hers. Other emotions that were not her own. Connecting with her, reaching out from the other side of the veil.
Hungrily.
Desperately.

Calling for her.

She wasn’t sure when she had started walking. Her feet moved on their own. Morgana didn’t resist. The sorceress lost track of her surroundings, only focused on the veil in front of her as it slowly, gradually pulled her in.

There was something… on the other side.

Something familiar.

Something that she’d lost.

Morgana was so close. It was right there. Just on the other side, only separated from her will by a veil of spirit. If she reached out, if she stretched her arms far enough, she’d be able to touch her. Morgana could sense the strength and vigour of her spirit, fierce and protective, like the strong gaze of a mother wolf—

She could-

She could sense-

Morgana reached out. She’d stopped thinking. The sorceress could feel a surge of magic pouring into her body, cutting off her senses and slowly numbing her outstretched arm. But the witch didn’t care. She’d done this before. She could do it again. She had to do it again. Morgana stepped closer and closer, taking a deep breath as she reached out—

The impact came out of nowhere. Morgana could feel all the air being pressed out of her lungs as something suddenly, violently, slammed into her from behind. Her body was catapulted her away from the archway. The sorceress could feel something wrap itself around her, shielding her from impact as they crashed into the ground so violently that it tore open the earth.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. The sorceress gasped for air, blinded by clouds of rubble and dust. She could feel herself flipping over. The ground spun around her, turning up, then down, then back up—

Until they finally… mercifully… slid to a halt. Sand and dust rained down all around her, covering Morgana’s arms and legs. She could barely see.
But she didn’t need sight to know that something had tackled her from behind. That someone had forced her away from the archway. The sorceress could feel a heavy weight lying on top of her. She could hear the beating of wings, moving right above her as another cloud of sand and dust was kicked up. She couldn’t move. Morgana forcibly opened her eyes. She squinted as they immediately began to sting from the dust in the air-

Before they opened wide with shock. The blood froze in her veins, her breath getting stuck in her throat as she realised what it was that she was looking up at.

Panic took over. Morgana struggled against the horned shape on top of her, fear surging through her body as she frantically tried to break free. But it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough. The sorceress could feel a hand clasp around her wrist, slamming her arm back down onto the ground as he pinned her underneath him.  
“Stop! Stop!”

His words didn’t reach her. Morgana could feel her panic growing. She kicked at him, a primal fight-or-light response kicking in as her fingertips began to glow with magick—

Stop. Please.

That wasn’t what she had expected. Something about the pleading, almost desperate expression in his eyes… felt strangely familiar. Morgana stopped struggling. Her body relaxed. With a look of fearful confusion, the sorceress looked up at him.
She didn’t understand.

The second she stopped struggling, the Fae in front of her let her go. Morgana could feel the weight on her torso lift, his hands withdrawing from her arms. Morgana’s eyes widened as the horned Fae knelt right in front of her. His wings lowered. The Fae placed a hand on his leg, frowning as he looked down on her with a look of unmistakable distress.

With… worry. For her.

Morgana blinked. Something about him felt… so familiar—

And Morgana finally realised.

“…Cen…red?”

–

Guinevere and Gawain had decided to stay up and watch the sunrise together. Neither of them had gotten a single wink of sleep that night. They’d worked through the late hours, waking up craftsmen, hiring movers and paying off merchants until they were sure that their group of refugees had a good place to sleep. It had been a long, exhausting night for both of them.

But as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Guinevere could tell that Gawain wasn’t tired at all.
Her friend looked invigorated.    

“Did you see?” Gawain asked, beaming as he rehashed that night’s events for the seventeenth time. “She even cleared out the whole cellar for them! I didn’t even know that there was that much space behind the wine barrels!”

“Yeah… that was really fortunate,” Guinevere replied, smiling at him as the cacophony of voices in her mind pitched in.  

_{Way too much space! Suspiciously much!}
Why would someone hide a whole section of basement behind empty wine barrels?
^{Do you think she’s a smuggler? A pirate? A secret tavern assassin?}

“Lancelot was right,” Gawain sighed, oblivious and happily looking up. “We really can make a difference.”

_{Pah! He almost ruined it.}
Angry, angry, making other people start screaming too-
^{Say something about it! Say something right now-}
Hush. Let him be.

For once, Guinevere was actually inclined to agree with her chatty commentary. Gawain’s anger could have made things much worse. At some point, hehad to learn that anger couldn’t solve everything.
But not right now. Right now, Guinevere didn’t want to take his smile away from him.

As they sat next to each other, watching the sun climb past the horizon, Gawain’s body language suddenly changed. Guinevere could see his shoulders tense up. The would-be knight brought his hands together, leaning on his legs as he hesitantly looked over towards her.
“Hey… Guin.”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right? You’ve… been through a lot.”

The question took her by surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask. The girl took a moment, staring into the distance for a while as thought about what to say.

Gawain was right.
A lot really had happened. She’d never be quite the same.

But…

“…yeah. I am,” Guinevere said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I didn’t think I’d be, but… I am. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m all right, Gawain.”

The young man nodded, accepting her answer for what it was.
“Okay. I just… wanted to check,” he mumbled. Guinevere smiled at him in response.
“I know. Thank you, Gawain.”
“I haven’t really had time to… check on everyone. And Arthur…”

“It IS true! I DO love her!”

“How… has he been?” Guinevere asked softly.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him much since… since Sarah.”
“I see. What about mil… Morgana?”
“I haven’t really seen her, either. At all.”
“Oh.”

A small silence fell between them. Gawain and Guinevere glanced at each other, reaching a silent understanding as both of them came to the same conclusion.

“They’re not okay, are they?”

“No. Probably not.”

Guinevere knew that she shouldn’t get involved. Not after everything that had happened in the throne room. She couldn’t safely go up to the castle anymore. Not without suspicions against her immediately re-awakening. Especially if it was Arthur or Morgana that she tried to see.
At worst… she’d be right back on her knees within a day.

Guinevere couldn’t put herself in danger like that.

But… she couldn’t leave them be, either.

“Gawain… do you think you could visit them tomorrow?” Guinevere asked, quickly coming to a decision. The young redhead shrugged in response.
“It’s training day,” Gawain said. “But Arthur’s cancelled it. He doesn’t want to see anyone.”
“I think he’ll make a-an exception for you, Gawain. They both will.”

Unsure, Gawain looked down at his feet.
“I don’t know. I’m not… I’m not good at things like that,” he answered hesitantly. “Comforting people is hard. You have to say the right things, and… and I don’t really know what to say.”

Asmile spread across Guinevere’s lips. Gawain had no idea how persuasive his honesty really was.
“I think you a-already found the right thing to say,” Guinevere replied. “You just said it to me.”
“I only asked if you were okay. That doesn’t count.”
“Maybe it doesn’t count for you. But I bet it counts for them. It’s something only you can do.”
That had an effect on him. Surprised, Gawain turned towards her.
“Only me? You really think so? It’s something only I can do?”

“Yeah. I do. So… could you go visit them for me? Please?”

Guinevere watched as Gawain glanced off towards the direction of the castle. A smile spread across his lips, making his entire face light up. The would-be knight gave her a single nod.
“Yeah… Okay. I will.”  

–

Morgana was completely fed up with secrets.

After what felt like the hundredth mental shock in a row, the sorceress had finally risen back to her feet. As she looked at the horned, winged creature in front of her, Morgana could see Cenred’s lips curl into a wry, almost apologetic smile. He didn’t speak. But she could hear his voice echo in her head anyway.

I suspect that you have questions.

That was an understatement.
“I have several,” Morgana growled. “But you can start by explaining the horns.”

They are part of me—

“I figured, with them growing out of your bloody head.”

Morgana’s gaze lingered on the stone archway behind him. The veil inside of it had disappeared. She could no longer hear the whispers coming from beyond, couldn’t feel the outpouring of spirit from the center of the archway anymore. Whatever had woken up when she entered the room, was no longer there.

The King of Essetir had repositioned himself, deliberately placing himself between the archway and her.
He wouldn’t let her go near it.

Morgana narrowed her eyes at Cenred, a raw fury simmering just beneath the surface.
“Why did you stop me?” she growled.
I had no choice. There are only two of you left.
“What is that supposed to mean?”

She could see Cenred cross his arms, rubbing the top of his nose in frustration.
It’s complicated—

Morgana immediately detonated.
“No. NO,” she snapped, her knuckles turning white as her hands balled themselves into fists. “You are not avoiding the question. Not this time. I’m sick of being left in the dark – I want the truth RIGHT NOW.”

…Very well. Ask, and I shall respond.

Morgana took a step towards him. Her mind was a jumbled mess as a thousand questions tried to come out at once.
“Why- how- why did- What are you, Cenred?”she finally spat. “What are you really?”

The winged Fae placed his hands at his sides.
I am many things. Your kind calls me a dragon.

It couldn’t be.

“Prove it,” Morgana growled. “Right now.”

She’d never forgotten about that encounter. Morgana still remembered the sense of complete powerlessness that she’d felt at the hand of that monster. Her hands balled themselves into fists, her fingers shaking with an emotion that she couldn’t identify. Cenred raised a single eyebrow in response.

Shapeshifting is not productive to this situation. Morgana, look at yourself. You’re not well-

But the sorceress cut him off again.

I don’t care. Do it.

…As you wish. But not here. It would level the building.

Cenred walked past her without another word. Morgana trailed behind him as he exited the temple. The King of Essetir confidently turned the corner, walking with purpose. Without hesitation. Like he’d walked that path a thousand times already. Like Cenred knew every inch of this temple by heart.

Like it belonged to him.

As soon as they reached the edge of the temple structure, Cenred turned around.

Morgana. Stand back.

“Why? Because I’ll get hurt?” she replied, crossing her arms defiantly.

Yes. You will.

Morgana scowled, refusing to move. She wasn’t sure why she was being so hostile. Part of her was enraged over him stopping her from reaching the veil. Another part of her remembered how he’d helped her in the past. If not for Cenred, then none of them would have been alive. She owed him a debt. Not only that, but he’d pledged his loyalty to her. Morgana been wondering what Cenred was, what he knew, what he was to her, for a very long time now-

But a dragon? It just couldn’t be true. The idea was ridiculous. This had to be a trick. A lie. A ploy against Arthur, an illusion that he’d spin to make her lower her guard—

The sudden burst of energy almost knocked Morgana into the stone staircase. The sorceress could feel her feet scraping against the ground, pushed back by the impact. She quickly raised her arms to protecting herself from the sudden barrage of sand and rock. The power that radiated in front of her was overwhelming. This couldn’t be real, this had to be a trick, an illusion that he was spinning somehow, there was no way that Cenred was an actual…

An actual…

“…Oh.”