Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part 1: The Apprentice

(Originally posted January 6, 2012)

Manhattan could be described as impressive at any time of day, but only at night did it truly shine. Lights of every color glared and glimmered from windows, signs, taxi headlights, and billboards as far as the eye could see, like a sea of stars. In fact, when standing on top of it, the Chrysler Building seemed not to merely scrape the night sky, but to already be immersed in it, with the Empire State Building shining nearby as a beacon for miles around. Yet this majesty did little to soothe Dave Stutler's mind as he stared out at the city lights. The bitter fall breeze reached him much more easily up here, swirling around him and sinking into his bones. Nonetheless, if he had to be anywhere to sort out his problems, he figured this was the best place to do it. It gave him a different perspective on the city he traversed through every day, a city that, through good times (sunny days in Central Park, Christmastimes at Rockefeller Center, going out for a midnight snack after hours of working on his tesla coils) and bad (the Arcana Cabana episode which lead to his infamous nervous breakdown, that terrifying day a year after when smoke stretched across the sky and his mother tried to shield his eyes from the live television feed that the whole world was watching), was his home. And he needed a different perspective right now.

"You saw the world in your own way."

Becky's words kept echoing in Dave's head. He smiled. ' She likes me. She still likes me.' He shook his head, elated but bewildered. Why did she still like him? Earlier that evening, he had chased her away as he tried to explain why he wasn't ready for their date. He certainly couldn't say he'd royally screwed up an attempt to magically make cleaning utensils come to life and clean his lab in order to impress her, especially since said objects were currently flooding the place and ruining all his work. After that, he'd figured she would want nothing to do with him, that he wasn't worth her time.

And he really couldn't blame her if that was true. After all, what was he to her? A physics nerd who liked working with huge tesla coils in his spare time (though, he had managed to use said coils to put on quite an impressive light and music show for her). He was odd, and his roommate, Bennet, was the latest in a string of peers (ally and bully alike) to remind him of this fact consistently. But, it was what he loved. He couldn't deny that he had always been drawn to the science of how the world works, even way back when he was drawing King Kong on that school bus window to line up with the Empire State Building. And Becky had thought it was cool that he could figure out how to make something like that. She liked him for being different. And back then he had liked being different too. But if only Becky knew just how different he was, and how his love was ironically related to the one thing that he so thoroughly wanted out of his life right now: magic.

Magic ruined his life on his 10th birthday when he witnessed the good sorcerer Balthazar Blake and his nemesis, Maxim Horvath, dueling in the strange curio shop he'd stumbled upon during his field trip that day. But the evidence of the battle, as well as the sorcerers themselves, was magically swept away by an ancient urn the moment he tried to tell his teacher what had happened. The nervous breakdown that followed was still known in some parts of the tri-state area as "pulling a David Stutler." But, in his mind, the infamy was not the worst part of the whole mess. Nor was it the fact that he'd had to change schools. It was the fact that Becky, then and now the prettiest and nicest girl he'd ever met, had seen it all, and looked at him sadly as he was driven away. His normal life had been shattered from then on.

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

Of course, his 20th birthday a few days ago was quick to take its place as his second-worst birthday ever, as both sorcerers had dropped back into his life, a life he had worked so hard to put back together in the 10 years they'd been trapped in that urn. And Horvath introduced a third psycho - Drake Stone, a famous illusionist who, in reality, was also an evil sorcerer. And a total jerk. The only thing that had made his birthday somewhat decent was seeing Becky again for the first time since that horrible day.

Dave leaned on the railing and sighed, closing his eyes. He had tried to learn magic as Balthazar requested. He really did. He even kind of liked it, and thought for a moment that maybe he was meant to do this as Balthazar said he was. But how could he be expected overcome the powerful, evil witch trapped inside that nesting doll, the Grimhold, when even Merlin had died by her hand? How was he supposed to effortlessly do magic without the ring Merlin had created for Dave, his supposed successor, when he could barely grasp creating plasma bolts, which was elementary magic, with the ring?

How could he be the Prime Merlinian?

Clearly, Balthazar believed (more like insisted) that he was, and wasn't giving him much choice in the matter. Balthazar was a lot like those fathers with such high expectations for their children they completely ignore the children's own desires. Of course, Balthazar was slightly more intense than any of those fathers for two reasons: 1. He was expecting Dave to literally save the world, and 2. He could throw freaking plasma bolts if he was dissatisfied.

"He doesn't get it," Dave muttered to the breeze, gripping the railing as he fought the leaden anxiety and exhaustion that threatened to pull him under. "He doesn't get how hard this is. I'm not like him. He wanted to find me, however long it took. He wanted to be a sorcerer. I…" He sighed, glaring down at the weighty, dragon-shaped ring on his finger that proclaimed his so-called destiny. "… I never wanted this. Any of this." He brought the ring closer to his face until he could see a dim reflection of the spiky dark hair, pointed nose, and deep blue eyes in the emerald's surface. "I just want to be Dave. Not the Prime Merlinian. Not Dave Stutler, the basket case. Just Dave."

So why was he still so unwilling, after all these years, to just throw the ring away?

Dave clenched his fist, gaze still on the ring, then let his arm drop with defeat. He looked out into the sea of city lights and whispered, "I just wish someone could understand."

He shook his head. But just as he was about to admonish himself for how sappy he was being, the ring on his finger jerked. It quickly heated up as the emerald began glowing brighter than Dave had ever seen it glow before, a low humming reverberating in his ears. "Oh, this can't good!" He shook his hand and began shouting commands, trying to get it to stop. The wind began picking up around him, scattering bits of paper and debris across the ledge of the building. Suddenly, light filled Dave's vision, forcing him to shut his eyes. Then, the humming stopped. He saw the light disappear through his eyelids as he felt the ring cool on his finger. Hesitantly, Dave opened his eyes, his arms still raised in front of him. His eyes quickly scanned the ledge, not immediately seeing anything unusual. Then he glanced downwards.

He stared. "… What?"

Bodies.

There were two bodies lying unconscious in front of him.

Dave's jaw hung open as he tried to process this. "What - but how - and they - I didn't - it just - ?" He glared at the ring. "Seriously?"

*-.-*-.-*-.-* -.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*

Chapter Text

Dave paced across the deck, head in his hands. His eyes darted from the tops of his Converse sneakers to the two guys still sprawled on the pavement. His brain was yelling at him (in a voice too much like Balthazar's for his liking) to check their pulses to see if they were even alive, but the main thought driving his actions, running through his brain and tumbling from his lips was, "What do I do? What do I do? What the HELL do I do?'" His head spun, and he felt for a moment he might join the other two on the ground until he heard -

"Urrrrrrgghh."

Dave's head snapped towards the bodies. The smaller one shifted his head. Dave immediately bolted over to him and bent down. The stranger had rather thick eyebrows and dark, curly hair. His smaller stature and hairless chin led Dave to think he was a few years younger than him, at least. Dave shook his shoulder a bit. "Kid? Hey, kid? You okay?"

.

The first thing Miles Ambrosi thought as his mind stirred to consciousness was, ' Why must I keep waking up like this? It's seriously getting old.' As if in response, his head throbbed in pain. Finding himself sprawled on the ground after another painful migraine was becoming a bit too typical these days. But, as Miles became aware of the cold and the hard surface (concrete? stone?) underneath him, he realized - the last thing he remembered was doing homework at the library.

So, what was he doing outside?

His eyes shot open, and he found himself staring at a stranger in a red sweatshirt leaning over him, whose terrified expression split into a nervous grin upon seeing Miles awaken. "You're not dead!" he gasped in relief. "Oh, thank God, that would have been really, really bad."

Miles blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Uh… yeah… it would be." He sat up, and the other guy responded by standing and taking a few steps back. Miles observed that he was lanky and half a foot taller, though probably not much older. He frowned. "What am I doing here?"

And the terrified expression was back. Dave wracked his brain. What was he supposed to say? "Ah… well," he began, "it's… you see… this isn't my fault!" Dave cursed in his head. Anything he could have said would have been better than that.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "I… never said it was. " He stood up, wiping down his blue-and-gray argyle v-neck. "I just want to know what I'm doing here. And for that matter," he said, glancing around at the narrow landing lit by large spotlights, "where is 'here?'"

Dave grimaced, then decided he could at least tell the boy that much. He took a steadying breath and plowed ahead. "The top of the Chrysler building."

Miles stared, then smirked and crossed his arms. "The Chrysler building? Yeah right, that's in New York City." He wasn't going to fall for any practical jokes, especially one so impossible.

Dave, whose back was to the railing, smiled, stepped to the side, and gestured towards the skyline. "Don't believe me? See for yourself."

Miles glanced to where he was gesturing. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at, but then recognized why there were so many lights and silhouettes of buildings beyond the edge of the landing. He rushed towards the railing, staring out at the magnificent glowing streets and skyscrapers. Then, upon seeing the largest building not too far away, his jaw dropped. "That's… that's the Empire State Building."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously."

"But that means… I'm really in New York City!" Miles was grinning now.

Dave nodded, standing beside him. "I told you. Cool, right?"

"Very cool!" Miles muttered, breathless. "I've never been to New York before. Man, it's awesome from up here."

Dave nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"You come up here often?"

"Well, it's becoming a habit. A… sort of friend introduced me to this view not too long ago, but I've discovered it helps me sort things out in my twisted brain." He chuckled at his own joke, then frowned, a cold dread creeping on him as he realized what his "friend" would think of the situation. "Wait, kid, where exactly do you come from?" ' And how am I supposed to get you back?'

Miles turned and glared at Dave. "'Kid?' Really?" he drawled in the bitter, haughty tone he always used in the face of those larger than him. "First of all, my name is Miles. Second, you call me a kid? You barely look older than me. You're, what, 17? 18?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "Actually, I'm 20. Not old enough to drink, I admit, but still legally an adult." Because of his bony stature and his late growth spurt, he'd often been taken as younger than he was, which was annoying. "You, on the other hand, can't be older than 15," he said, studying the shorter boy. Based on his gangly limbs and large hands the boy was definitely still smack in the middle of his awkward adolescence, his voice certainly deep (heck, deeper than Dave's), but probably prone to an embarrassing squeak every now and then. Except for the voice and the clothes (because this Miles boy dressed much more neatly and preppy than Dave ever did, always preferring sweatshirts and jeans), the boy reminded him of his younger self, right down to the dark, unruly hair, deep blue, inquisitive eyes, and fast-paced, awkward gait.

Miles folded his arms. "For your information, I turned 16 last week, so you're only 4 years older than me."

Dave snorted. "Well, I'm still legally an adult, and you aren't. Therefore, you're a kid. And you didn't answer my question."

He rolled his eyes. "Annapolis, okay? I'm from Annapolis." Then, a thought occurred to Miles. It was a bit far-fetched considering the man beside him. Not only did he seem to have even less muscles than Miles himself (and that was saying something), but he wanted to trust this college student for some reason. However, quite recently Miles had discovered that his amiable, dorky history teacher, someone who Miles thought he could relate to, was just the mask of a twisted, horrible human being that tried to kill him and his friends. If there was anything he'd learned in the past few weeks, it was that appearances could be deceiving, so despite how he felt he couldn't take chances. So, Miles fixed his gaze on the older man. "Now you have to answer my question." He stepped closer, drawing a hand to his right pants pocket. "How is it that the last thing I remember is doing my homework at a library in Maryland, and I wake up on top of a skyscraper in New York?"

Dave guffawed, giving Miles an expression that almost made him laugh. "No! No, no, no, no, I know what you're thinking, but I had nothing to do with this! I really don't know what happened, I was just standing up here, minding my own business, and then this stupid ring started going berserk, and then - "

Miles's thick eyebrows shot up. "Your ring?" His eyes darted to the rather large, striking dragon ring on the college student's bony finger.

Dave winced. "I really shouldn't have said that. Uh, I'm talking nonsense, forget I said anything. Can we please just agree that this isn't my fault?"

Miles didn't hear a word Dave said, instead studying the ring. He could have sworn he'd seen one like it before, even though he could tell this was a very unique object. And perhaps he was crazy, but the ring seemed to be studying him as well, its emerald winking in the light. Miles put a hand to his temple as a familiar ringing headache surged in his skull. "Uh, what did you say your name was?" Miles said, trying to force his attention away from the ring.

"Er, I didn't," the older boy said, relieved that the high-schooler wasn't questioning his sanity or his motives. He stepped towards Miles, holding out his hand. "Dave Stutler."

Miles glanced at the hand, the dragon ring perched comfortably on the pointer finger, then back up at Dave. Again, he liked and wanted to trust Dave. And trust wasn't something that came easily for him. In fact, the only other person he'd felt this kind of friendly attraction to was a girl named Allie. He had only met her a month ago, but somehow she quickly took her place in his life as the best friend he never really had.

He had been startled by this feeling when he'd first met Allie, that day in Mr. Moore's class when she was seated next to him and introduced herself. He tended to keep a solid barrier of snark and intellectual condensation between himself and his peers because, aside from the fact that nerds like him were on the lowest rung of the high school social ladder, he felt no one could ever understand and accept him completely. So, why would the perky, blonde new girl who seemed destined to be one of the popular kids interest him this way? He tried to ignore it, but Miles was drawn to Allie, and couldn't help wanting to help her. It wasn't a crush by any means. Miles considered her the Harry Potter to his Hermione Granger rather than the Ron Weasley (And yes he was comparing himself to a female character, but screw gender roles). Hermione, despite her disapproval of Harry breaking the rules at the beginning of their first year, couldn't help getting drawn into his conversations and conflicts time and again, until they, with Ron, finally bonded over defeating the troll and became friends for life. There was no romance between them, despite what Ron, Rita Skeeter, and crazy shippers may have thought, but they were nonetheless connected. That was just how Miles felt about Allie, and though he had been reluctant to let her in, he was now so glad he had. If connecting to Allie turned out to be so good, maybe following this same instinct and connecting to Dave would turn out the same.

With this in mind, he finally smiled at Dave, and replied, "Miles Ambrosi." They clasped hands. Behind them, the young man still unconscious on the ground shifted slightly as the ring on Dave's finger grew warm and glowed upon touching Miles' skin.

"Woah!" Miles gasped.

"Gah!" Dave cried, trying to cover the ring with his other hand. 'Is this thing trying to kill me?' Both boys quickly drew back. Dave's eyes flickered from the ring, which was losing its unnatural glow, to Miles's shocked expression, his stomach sinking. Times like this he wished Balthazar had taught him how to do Jedi mind tricks rather than plasma bolts. "I - I, uh," Dave stuttered, then forced a smile and lied, "It, uh, runs on batteries! Cool, huh?" 'Please fall for it. Please fall for it. Please fall for it.'

Miles snorted. "Cool? Yes. Batteries? Doubtful. Come on, even I can lie better than that, and I'm really bad." This, he thought, was partially why he kept people at such a distance - with a secret like his, he couldn't afford slipping up, which he knew was all too easy to do. Case in point, Allie had figured out within mere days of them knowing each other. Lucky for him, he could trust Allie.

Dave cursed in his head. "Okay, this… this really isn't what it looks like - "

"The ring is magic," Miles said. It wasn't a question - he knew.

Dave sagged, smacking a hand to his forehead. This was bad, very bad. Balthazar had told him point blank that civilians couldn't find out about magic. But he couldn't see a way out of this (again, Jedi mind tricks would be useful right now). He sighed. "I… yeah. Yeah, the ring is magic. It brought you here. It just kind of happened, I - I don't know why."

Miles nodded. Not only did the glowing practically scream "Magic!", but he could feel the ring's energy, like pinpricks of heat running over his hand, before he'd seen the glow. "Okay, so, is it just the ring that's magic, or are you a…?" He wasn't sure which term to use, there were so many nearly interchangeable titles used throughout the centuries.

Dave pinched his eyes shut "I'm a…" He stopped, taking another breath. This was actually the first time he'd had to tell someone what he was. Balthazar had already known, and the Morganians had figured it out. Actually saying the words out loud was… hard. It made everything that had happened a lot more real. But, the kid knew this much, he might as well tell all. "Well… I'm a sorcerer. " He paused, then thought he should add, "Or at least, I was learning to be one."

"That… is awesome."

Dave opened his eyes, surprised by this response, and saw Miles was grinning from ear to ear. "You… you're okay with all this? You're not freaking out that magic is real or something?"

Miles shook his head. "No, I'm good with that part."

"And you won't go telling people?"

"No, of course not."

Dave shook his head. "But… but… why ? How are you okay with this? I'm not even okay with this, and I'm the one with the magic!" He sighed. "And even if you are okay with this, normal people aren't supposed to know, so I'm screwed either way."

Miles smirked. "Who said I was normal?"

Dave stared at Miles, mouth slightly ajar. "… Huh?"

Miles reached into his right pants pocket and pulled something out, then held his closed fist out to Dave. "I may not have a fancy ring, but this has been just as useful." He opened his hand, revealing a pen with a blue crystal on the end.

Dave raised an eyebrow. "That… is a pen ."

Miles grinned. "That's what you think." He closed his eyes, held the pen out besides him, then opened his hand. A flurry of gold sparks sizzled around the pen, and before Dave could blink, it turned into a tall staff.

The young man on the ground stirred.

Dave gaped at the staff, and then at Miles. "You have - but that means - " Dave's open mouth turned upwards into a smile, and he pointed ecstatically at Miles. "You're a sorcerer! Like me!"

Miles shrugged. "Well, I call myself a wizard, but magic is magic, right?"

Dave gave two thumbs up. "Definitely! And you aren't insane! That's a plus." Dave frowned and his eyes narrowed towards Miles. "At least, you don't seem insane. You aren't trying to kill me, are you?"

"No."

"Good. Had to make sure." He held up his hands defensively. "Nothing personal, man. It's just that every sorcerer I've met has tried to kill me in some way." ' Even the one who says he's 'helping' me,' he thought. 'Though how throwing white hot balls of magical energy is "helpful" is beyond me.'

Miles sighed. "I know the feeling. The only other sorcerer I've met was my history teacher. One day he was all smiles and 'history is awesome!' Then that night he blasted me into a wall." The honors student crossed his arms and grumbled, "And I thought I was his favorite student."

Dave winced. "Ouch. That sucks. Is he still your teacher?"

Miles smiled. "No. After we stopped his evil plan, he was, quote-on-quote 'given a leave of absence' for claiming a student attacked him with a sword." He shrugged. "The ironic thing is, that was the one thing he wasn't crazy about."

Dave looked surprised. "You attacked him with a sword?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Do I look like the sword-and-shield type? No, that was my friend, Allie. She totally owned Mr. Moore. I just helped even the playing field with this baby," he said as he stroked the staff.

Suddenly, a groan bubbled from behind them. The sorcerers turned to see the third man, still unconscious, stirring slightly. Dave scowled. "Aw crud. I forgot about him." Today just wasn't his day. Dave walked over and bent down to shake his shoulder. "Hey, man, you up? You okay?" The man laid still. Dave shook his head. "Nothing. Geez, what are we gonna do with him? He's been out a while, I feel like we should lay him down somewhere, get him indoors." After a moment of silence, Dave turned his head back towards the other boy. "Miles?"

A shudder went up the high-schooler's spine as he stared at the prone figure on the ground. He felt disturbed, shocked to his core. All his senses were screaming that this was wrong, that this man should not be here, that he couldn't exist. Miles shook his head. Why did he feel this way? It wasn't as if he knew the man. Yet there was something familiar about him - the high cheekbones, the large ears similar to Miles' own, except they stuck out significantly from the cropped dark hair, the red neckerchief…

Suddenly, the world seemed to shift around him. He saw himself kneeling by a lake, seeing his face's reflection in the smooth surface of the water… until the water rippled, swirling and distorting the image. When it resettled, the reflection showed not Miles's face, but the stranger's, the eyes open to reveal a bright, piercing blue, a few shades lighter than Miles's own. The reflection smirked, before his eyes glowed molten gold…

"Dude!"

Miles shook his head as the real world came back into focus, only to find Dave staring at him.

"What happened?" Dave asked.

"Um… sorry," Miles muttered, blushing, "That happens a lot. I, uh, think deeply." He knew it wasn't the best excuse, but it was the best he could come up with, his mind reeling over what he'd just seen. That vision, if it was that, wasn't normal… even for him. However, he decided to worry about it later. "What were you saying before?"

Dave frowned - Miles wasn't kidding about the lying thing. But Dave felt no need to push the issue, so he simply repeated, "I want to move this guy somewhere, lay him up on a bed or a couch. But I really don't want to call an ambulance, 'cause there'll be too many questions. And we certainly can't carry him, 'cause that would look, well, kind of weird."

Miles nodded, "Yeah, that's an understatement." Miles looked back to the strange figure. "Y'know… it sounds strange, but I feel like I know him, or at least I recognize his face from somewhere."

Dave frowned. "Huh." Dave kneeled down to get a closer look at the guy. "Actually, I feel like I've seen him before too. He looks a little like…" Dave shook his head. The high cheekbones and long, straight nose reminded him a bit of an illustration in Balthazar's books, but he couldn't think of who it was supposed to be. Dave shrugged and stood up again. "Well, we can't think about it now. We've got to move this guy."

Miles quirked an eyebrow. " We? I'm still one of the victims here."

Dave's eyebrows leapt up in horror. "Dude! C'mon, I told you this was an accident!"

The high-schooler smirked. "I was kidding. Look, can you apparate?"

"Can I what ?"

Miles gave the college student a bemused smile. "Apparition? Y'know, what they call teleporting in Harry Potter? "

Dave crossed his arms and shrugged. "Oh. Guess I never read that far."

"You must've at least seen the films, though." When Dave responded with a shake of his head, Miles couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, "Seriously?" Because maybe Harry Potter wasn't the same kind of magic he or Dave did (look, Ma, no wands), but it was still about growing up with magic, feeling different from everyone else. If anyone could relate to that series, he figured someone like Dave, who was so much like himself, would be just the guy.

Dave crossed his arms, curtly explaining, "Look, I tried the first two, a long time ago before the first film came out. Kind of lost interest soon after, never really got into it. It's really not a big deal."

Miles was going to give a quip about how he was missing out on the most amazing series ever, but he noticed a haunted look cross Dave's face and stopped. Though he was confused by this reaction, he decided now was not the time to ask, and instead rephrased his former question as to whether the older spellcaster could use magic to take them somewhere else.

Dave shook his head. "I've seen it done, but I don't know how to do it myself. What about you?"

Miles bit his lip. "I don't think so, but I've never actually tried. My magic tends to act on instinct. Sometimes the magic words will come to me, sometimes my magic will react without words, and sometimes nothing happens at all. " 'Not to mention I've only known I could cast spells for a few weeks,' he thought, though he didn't want to embarrass himself by revealing that.

"I know the feeling," Dave grumbled. "So basically, we're a couple of amateur sorcerers stuck at the top of the Chrysler Building and neither of us is competent enough to do anything."

"Pretty much," Miles said, showing his mastery of the art of deadpan. He continued, more thoughtfully, "Maybe if we combined our powers?"

Dave snorted. "What are we, the Wonder Twins?"

Miles' eyes glinted at the taller boy underneath his thick brows. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Dave shrugged, surprised at how intimidating the kid could be. "Fine." Then he realized, snapping his fingers, "Why don't we aim for my apartment? My roommate won't be back for a few hours since he has a date tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, nodding. "Now, how do we do this?"

After a few minutes of brainstorming off each other, they decided to each crouch down on one side of the stranger, before Miles would touch his staff to Dave's ring, concentrating the magic through that to teleport them to Dave's apartment. The boys got into position, then Dave said, "Okay. I think we're good. Now, I'll focus on my apartment, you try to come up with an incantation."

"Right," Miles said, "If I can't, I'll just feed my powers into you through the staff. On three, we bring them together. One…"

Dave closed his eyes, focusing on his mental reconstruction of his apartment room.

"Two…"

Both pleaded they wouldn't get blown up.

"Three!"

Dave stretched his hand towards Miles, who clutched the ancient wooden staff tightly as he tilted it towards Dave's ring. Just like when the ring touched Miles's hand earlier, the ring's jewel glowed bright green, while the large gem on the staff radiated an electric blue aura, sending shocks of energy down the arms of their wielders. But before the two sorcerers could focus this energy towards their goal, they felt the man below them shudder violently. A millisecond later, Miles trembled as well. An incantation rose to his mind, but before he could utter it, another voice, low and reverent as if in prayer, spoke them aloud:

" Ásetaþ."

Miles and Dave's eyes shot open, staring in surprise at each other before looking down at the stranger. His eyes were still closed, but there was no doubt he had chanted the spell, his brow creased in effort. Before either could marvel at this, or wonder if he was conscious, cold, spidery fingers grasped both their outstretched arms. " Ásetaþ!" the stranger chanted again, with more volume, his hands suddenly very warm on Miles and Dave's skin, his glassy eyes half open to reveal glowing gold irises.

"Woah!" Dave cried as the already bright auras of the staff and ring increased to a blinding light. He wanted to pull back, but his body felt frozen, fiery magic more intense than any amount he'd practiced with pumping through his veins and spilling out through the ring. He blinked his eyes rapidly, uncomfortable both from light of the ring and from the strange prickling sensation starting behind his eyes. His thoughts and emotions were torn between horror and absolute elation. He didn't want to like this sensation… but he did.

Miles felt similarly, except that the force of magic now rushing through him felt more raw, more ancient, more vast. He'd tapped into his magic before, of course, but right now it felt like it was embracing him after a long absence, filling him whole. He gasped as his eyes burned.

The air shifted, and Miles and Dave, having experience the lightheaded, gut-wrenching sensation before, braced themselves as the world around them disappeared…

Chapter Text

Part 3: Call Waiting

(Originally posted Christmas 2012)

Alexandra Pennington checked her phone for what felt like the millionth time.

"Anything?" her boyfriend, Will, asked, putting his arm around her.

She shook her head. "No," she sighed, putting the phone back in her jacket pocket.

Marco, Will's stepbrother, leaned back in the chair across from them, chomping into an apple and chewing it obnoxiously. "Well," he said, mouth full, "Y'know what they say: 'A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.'"

Allie cocked an eyebrow. "I never took you for a Lord of the Rings fan, Marco."

The dark-haired boy smirked. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"Well," Will said, "I think we've all had enough surprises for awhile."

Allie nodded, then frowned in thought. She stood up, nervous energy in her body begging her to move, do something. She began pacing in front of the fireplace. "I don't like this. It isn't like Miles to be late for anything, let alone a study session."

"What do you want to do, send out a search party?" Marco drawled.

Allie stopped. "Y'know, that's not a bad idea." She drew herself up. "I'll check his house. Will, you, can check the library, and Marco - "

"I was joking."

The petite girl's stature wilted. "Oh… I knew that."

"Still," said Will, getting up to stand by Allie. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to check around since Miles isn't responding. With Mr. Moore still in town - "

"Will, trust me," his brother replied, "Mr. Moore is covered."

"Are you sure? I mean, the guy has powerful magic, even without that staff. Plus, what if he has accomplices? Allies?"

Suddenly, Marco's face hardened, his eyes narrowed as he stood up. "Do you doubt the Order's ability to keep it under control?"

Will raked a hand through his light brown hair. He knew how sensitive Marco got with anything related to his dad, the secret Order of the Bear society being a key component. "That's not what I'm saying, Marco. But we still have to be careful. We can't risk anyone getting hurt again."

Marco stepped towards him. "And you're saying the Order would let that happen?"

"Guys! Enough!" Allie exclaimed as she stepped between the stepbrothers, fixing each with a hard glare that stopped them in their tracks. "This is getting us nowhere. Sit down, both of you."

The brothers shared a glance, exchanging apologies. The small, blonde girl was usually so kind and perky that the quarterback and the former bad boy forgot how much authority she could project when called upon. They sank back into the couch.

Allie smiled. "Thank you. Now look, why don't I call him again. Maybe he'll pick up this time and we've been worrying for nothing." The boys agreed, so Allie pulled her phone out again and clicked on "Miles" in her contacts. As the dial tone sounded, she couldn't help but reflect on how not too long ago she never would have believed the four of them could be friends. Her whole life, Allie had been the perpetual new girl, until her parents decided this year to park themselves in Maryland for a while. She'd met Will, the school golden boy; his stepbrother, a rebellious bully who made it his mission to make Will's life harder; and Miles, the snarky school dweeb and Marco's punching bag (though no actual punching was involved). At least, those were her first impressions.

Then, everything changed after Mr. Moore's attack. Marco had dropped the bully act he'd been putting on to get Mr. Moore's trust, and turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He was still somewhat confrontational and still pulled pranks like he used to, but it wasn't nearly as mean-spirited as before. Will was not only on better terms with Marco because of this (though they still butted heads, as brothers do), but he seemed a lot more at ease with himself. Before, he was under so much pressure as a quarterback, as a student, and as a boyfriend falling out of love with one of his best friends. But the Knights made it to the championships that night, later winning it for the first time in years, and Will had settled things with Jen enough to start dating Allie. And as for Allie herself, she found a place and a group of people where she finally fit in.

But then, there was Miles. Miles, Allie thought, was complicated. While she already considered him her best friend, she worried that he was keeping something from her. Sometimes he seemed easy to read, and other times he felt so cold, so distant to her. He seemed to be enjoying the perks of having magic when he practiced around her. But she would watch himpaging through a book on Arthurian legend from her parents' extensive collection, or as he was practicing certain spells, that his mouth turned down, his eyebrows furrowed, and he stared out, suddenly looking a good deal older than sixteen.

Sometimes she just waited patiently for him to deal with whatever crossed his mind. But sometimes she had to snap him out of it, more for her sake than his - it creeped her out to see him like that.

Allie sighed. She wanted Miles to really trust her and tell her what was wrong. So badly. Considering his talents, it wasn't surprising to her that he held his cards close to his chest, but sometimes, irrationally, she just wanted to shake him for being such an idiot. Weren't they friends now? Sure, it had only been four weeks since they'd met, but it felt like she'd known him for years, and she knew he felt the same. All four of them had clicked together well after all was said and done, but the relationship between her and Miles was something else all together, something she couldn't put into words. There was absolutely no physical attraction, but they were, nonetheless… bonded, somehow. So it hurt that he was still reluctant to open up when she was open with him. But she wasn't so much angry at him, as she was angry at herself, as if she'd done something to let him down, and that's why he couldn't tell her. It made absolutely no sense, because she hadn't done anything like that. But no matter how much she rationalized, all she kept thinking was, 'Whatever this is, I can't let him deal with it alone.'

Suddenly, a voice registered in Allie's ear. "Allie?" said a low, groggy voice over the phone.

She grinned, "Miles! Ugh, finally! Where are you?" She looked at Will and Marco. "Guys, I've got him!"

Will sighed, "Thank goodness."

"Tell him to get his butt over here," Marco said.

She heard Miles say, "Why? What's wrong?"

Allie frowned. "Don't you remember? You, me, Will, and Marco? Chemistry study session at my house? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"… Oh! Oh man, yeah. Geez, um… I… I don't think I'll be able to come over."

"Why?"

"Uh.. well… I just kind of got caught up in something"

Allie huffed. There he was, avoiding the truth again. " Mi -les," she said, emphasizing the first syllable, "what's going on?"

"Nothing!"

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

Will stood. "What's he saying?"

Allie turned to him. "He says he can't come and he won't tell me why." She continued, to Miles, "I'm your friend, Miles. We're worried about you. We thought maybe Mr. Moore had…" She closed her mouth. She couldn't even say what she'd been thinking could have happened.

"Allie, no. It's nothing like that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry anyone. It's just… I don't think you'll believe me if I tell you."

Allie raised an eyebrow. "Miles, I've seen you conjure a staff from a pen and float things in midair, and I beat our history teacher in a sword fight. After that, I'll think I'll believe anything."

She heard Miles suck in a breath. He paused. "What if I told you that two minutes ago I woke up on top of a skyscraper in New York City?"

"… Excuse me?"

Chapter Text

Part 4: The Warlock

(Originally published January 2013)

As the younger boy took his call, Dave dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, his body shaking as he took a few slow, deep breaths. "That... was a doozy," he muttered before he downing a glass of water. The teleportation had nearly knocked him and Miles out. He was surprised they were both still standing. Still, they'd made it, and that was enough for him.

Except...

He glanced down at the other man, still laying unconscious on the ground. Still knocked out even after all that, and they had no idea who he was or where he came from. 'Whoever he is, he's powerful,' Dave thought, suppressing a shudder. He'd thought Balthazar and Horvath were scary enough, but the raw power that man projected back there was... wow.That was honestly the only way he could describe it.'I've heard of doing something in your sleep before, but not that literally.'

But the man's identity and power wasn't what really worried Dave. He just wanted to know why the ring had brought the two strangers to him. Because if he knew why, maybe he could find a way to get the ring to send them back (preferably before their families noticed they were gone). Dave knew he couldn't do it on his own, even with two other sorcerers. After all, the teleport to the apartment had been a fluke, really. The neckerchief guy was the one who knew the spell, and it seemed as though he'd been in a trance, probably wouldn't even remember it when (or if?) he woke up. And as for himself and Miles, they were just a couple of newbies.

'I could ask Balthazar... no.' Dave shook his head. 'No, I can't.' How could he go back to Balthazar now? He'd stormed out, discarded his "old man's shoes" (required for good magic casting due to the thick rubber soles), and left his pocket Encantus back at his lab in the underground railway turnaround, refusing to do magic again. Going back and facing him would be horribly awkward. Not only would he have to explain his mistake and beg help from the old sorcerer after leaving him so abruptly, but he'd have to hear the inevitable question of whether he wanted to do magic again. Dave just didn't want to face it. But, then again, how else was he going to fix all this?

.

"Huh...? What...?"

Dave's head snapped to the man on the floor, almost dropping the glass in his hand. It seemed his bulldog, Tank, had decided to greet "Sleeping Cheekbones" with a wet, slobbery wake-up call. "Oh man," he mumbled to himself, springing to his feet and tramping over to his drooling companion. "Tank! No! We do not treat our guests like that, buddy. The morning kisses are only for me." He paused. "That... didn't sound right." He shrugged, then picked up the dog and placed him in his doggy bed. He hurried back and bent next to the neckerchief guy. "Hey! Sorry about that. Uh, you're not allergic to dogs, right?"

In response, the stranger's eyes blinked open, bright blue this time instead of gold. He immediately squinted, bringing a hand up over his eyes. "Awfully bright in here," he mumbled... in an unmistakably British accent.

'Why are the crazy powerful sorcerers almost always British?' Dave wondered. Horvath. Drake Stone. Heck, even Balthazar was technically British. He'd lost the accent, but he'd been born and bred there a thousand years ago. He held out a hand for the guy and pulled him up to sitting position. "Hey, it's all right, buddy. You're just a bit bent out of shape, been out of it for a while. Welcome back to the land of the living." Dave put a hand to the stranger's forehead. "How're you feeling? Are-are you hurt anywhere?"

The neckerchief guy brought a hand to his head. "I think I'm okay...Head hurts a bit."

"I-I could get you some aspirin," Dave stuttered.

The stranger gave him a confused look. "What's aspirin?"

Dave blinked. 'Do they not call it aspirin in Britain? I mean, they call cookies "biscuits," so I guess that's possible.'"Y'know, painkillers," he explained. "Medicine. For the headache."

The other guy seemed to understand. "Oh. Um, no, I'm good, thanks." He glanced around, still squinting. "What am I doing here?"

Dave's brain froze, grasping for a decent response. "Uh... well, what's the last thing you remember?" That would buy him some time.

"I was... in the castle," he murmured. "Cleaning armor. Then there was this light, and the room started spinning. Speaking of light, how is it so bright in here?"

Dave paused. 'Castle? Armor?' Then, he replied, "I don't know what you mean. It's no brighter in here than anywhere else with a lightbulb. In fact, it's a bit dimmer." He glared up at the cheap, bare lightbulb screwed into the ceiling, no shade (New York City apartment prices plus college student salary didn't leave a lot of room for luxury). He glanced at the Brit again, getting up off the floor. "Were you, maybe, drinking?"

The Brit tore his confused eyes off the orb and got up. "No!" He huffed. "Why does everyone always think I'm drinking? Gaius told Arthur that excuse one time and now that's all he and anyone believes." He rolled his eyes. "Dollophead."

Dave snorted. "'Dollophead.' That's a new one."

The guy frowned up at the lightbulb again, circling it. "How does it do that?"

"Do what?"

"Glow like that."

The physics whiz raised an eyebrow. "Dude, it's a lightbulb. That's literally kids' stuff, elementary school level."

The other boy scowled. "Well sorry if I've never heard of it until now."

Dave started. "You've never...?" 'What?' Something wasn't right here. He peered closer at the gawky man, specifically the way he was dressed. It wasn't that it was that bizarre – basic shirt, trousers, boots. Heck, neckwear like his was in style among certain crowds. But the material, the wear and tear upon closer glance, seemed like something out of a renaissance fair or medieval period film. 'He mentioned a castle,' Dave remembered, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 'And polishing armor.'

"Hey, where's your bathroom?"

Dave started, and turned to see Miles addressing him, his hand held over the mouthpiece of his phone. He pointed, his nervousness slipping into his words as he said, "F-First door on your left." Miles didn't seem to notice as he found the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Dave heard the conversation with whoever-it-was resume behind the door, though Dave couldn't make out what he was saying.

He turned back to the stranger, who asked, "What's a bathroom?"

Dave gulped. "I..."

"And why is that boy talking to himself?"

Dave fumbled for words to explain. "He-he's not talking to himself. He's talking to someone his cell." The stranger didn't seem to understand. "Cell phone? Cellular telephone?" He tried gesturing with his hands to clarify what he was talking about, but it just came across like a bunch of manic waving. Finally he gave up, folding his hands and begging, "Please tell me you know what a telephone is?"

The stranger shook his head. "Can't say I do."

Dave exhaled a shaky breath, raking a hand through his hair. 'Why do these things have to happen to me?'

*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*

"Y'know, Miles, if anyone else had told me that whole story, I would have thought it was a prank. Particularly if it was Marco."

"Hey!" Miles heard the person in question exclaim (the other line having switched to speakerphone).

"But you believe me? About the Chrystler building and the spell and everything?" Miles asked.

"Well, yeah," Allie said. "I mean, we've gone through too much weirdness to think you're crazy, and you're not a great liar, no matter how strange the story."

Miles took offense to that last one. "Gee, thanks," the honors student drawled. "Because I wasn't able to hide that I sometimes see the future for how many years."

"You also weren't friends with anyone for 'how many years,'" Allie quipped. "And I figured it out within a week of knowing you."

"And I knew before she did," Marco added.

Miles rolled his eyes. "You've mentioned."

Allie's smirk was audible as she said, "Check and mate."

The wizard huffed. "Well, if you weren't so accident prone, I wouldn't have had so many visions around you. And then the pounding in my skull kind of hampered my lying skills."

She chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that. Look, I don't care if you have bad lying skills. I trust you with my life either way. We all do. Even if you were better at it, you wouldn't lie to us, not about something like this. Not without a really good reason."

He smiled. "Thanks," he said softly into the receiver.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Will said. "How are you going to get home?"

"I wish I knew," Miles admitted. "But Dave's ring got me into this, I'm hoping together we can somehow figure out how to get it to send me and the other guy back. All three of us have magic, there must be something we can do."

"But how do you know you can trust either of them?" Will asked.

"Yeah, what if it's Mr. Moore all over again?" Allie added. "He seemed nice, too. Even I was fooled, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character."

"Allie, you thought I was evil," Marco said.

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the conversation.

"Well, as I said, a pretty good judge of character. No one's perfect."

"Just saying."

Miles chuckled, then said, "Look, I've considered that possibility. But I'm stranded in the middle of New York, I don't know anyone else with magic, and I can't exactly call my mom to explain how I ended up here. Plus, my instincts are telling me that I can trust both of them. The way I know I can trust you guys."

"Miles, you thought I was evil, too."

He frowned. "You were slamming me into lockers and torturing me everyday, what else was I supposed to think?"

"Your act was good, Marco," his stepbrother admitted. "Almost too good."

The former bad boy said, "What can I say? I have a gift for swagger."

"Swagger? Really?" Allie chimed in, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Miles, not wanting the conversation to devolve into nonsense, called loudly into the phone, "Look. The point is, this didn't happen by chance. I think I'm connected to them somehow, and the ring summoned me because of that."

"What about all of you having magic? Could that be it?" Will added.

Miles chuckled. "Well yeah, there's that, but there's definitely something else. What? I don't know. But if everything that's happened to us has taught me anything, it's that real coincidences are far and few between." He looked over his shoulder at the neckerchief boy, who was standing up, staring at the ceiling. "I will admit, though, there's something about the other guy that's making me uneasy."

"What?"

Miles paused, clenching his teeth.

"C'mon, Miles, you have to tell us now," Marco said. "Don't leave us hanging."

Glancing over his shoulder at the stranger once more, Miles lowered his voice as he explained, "When I first saw him, I had this overwhelming feeling that he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't exist. I just haven't been able to shake the feeling no matter how much I rationalize against it. And then I think... I think I saw something. But it was weird. It didn't feel like one of my normal visions. You know, if anyone can call my visions 'normal.'"

Will asked, "Did it hurt?"

"For once, no. That was the only good thing about it. But the thing is, it wasn't a vision of the future, or even of the past. It was just really vague and abstract." Miles squinted his eyes shut, trying to retrieve the image in his mind. "I was looking into the water at the edge of a lake."

"Could it have been the lake?" Allie wondered in a low voice.

"Maybe. I'm not sure. Anyway, I saw my reflection. But then the water rippled, and I saw the face of that other guy in the water instead of mine. The reflection winked at me, and his eyes flashed this eerie gold color, the way they did with the teleportation spell. But I had the vision before that happened." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was just weird. And a bit creepy."

"Wait," Allie said. "Why was the eye-glowing weird to you, Miles? I thought that was normal. Well, for wizards. Sorcerers. Whichever term is more appropriate."

"Allie, what are you talking about?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then Marco said, incredulous, "Do you really not know?"

"Know what? I may be psychic, but I'm not a mind reader."

He heard some murmuring on the other end. After a moment, it was Allie who spoke, "Miles... look, don't freak out, but you should know I - I've kind of seen your eyes doing the same thing."

Miles paused, his grip tightening around the phone in his hand. He forced a laugh. "Okay, Allie, this really isn't the time for jokes. My eyes don't glow."

"This isn't a joke, Miles."

Miles felt cold. "Well then, you clearly must have been seeing things, y'know, a trick of the light."

He heard her sigh. "The first few times I saw it, when you were practicing, I thought it was a trick of the light. But I've seen it so many times since – "

"You must have seen wrong, then," he bit back. He debated in his head for a moment, then made a split-second decision. "Hold on a second." He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and turned to Dave. "Hey, where's your bathroom?"

Dave started as Miles addressed him, then pointed to the side. "F-First door on your left."

Miles nodded and headed in the direction noted (as he closed the bathroom door he thought he heard the stranger say, "What's a bathroom?"). Once inside he held the phone to his ear again. "Sorry about that, just had to find a bathroom."

"Why?" Will asked.

He ignored the question, asking, "Which spell was I doing when you hallucinated about my eyes?"

He heard Allie interject, "Miles, you're stranded in New York City. Should you really be doing this now?"

"Well, blame yourselves for that," Miles responded, staring at his reflection in the speckled bathroom mirror as he unveiled his staff. "What you said is going to keep bugging me until I see it for myself, if it was even real. I have to do this. Now, what was the spell?"

After a moment, Allie answered, "I... I think one of them was levitation?"

Miles exhaled. "Okay." He placed the phone down on the counter and focused on the sound of his breathing, trying to recall the verbal incantation from his memory. When it came to him, he didn't spare a moment as he concentrated and pointed the staff to the bottle of toothpaste oozing onto the sink counter, his eyes fixed on the identical pair staring at him from the glass. "Flíeh!"

It only happened for a split second, easy to miss if he wasn't looking squarely at them. But for that split second the blue eyes he'd known for his whole life changed into something foreign, yet also eerily familiar.

The glowing gold eyes of the stranger.

He clenched his eyes shut as he jumped away from his reflection. The high-school student felt his chest heave up and down for a few moments, then he tentatively opened his eyes to see that the eyes in the mirror were blue again. The toothpaste bottle was still hovering off the counter, however, so with a flick of his hand, he terminated the spell. He picked up the phone and, hoping he didn't sound as shaken as he felt, simply said, "So, my eyes glow."

"Yeah..." Will said. "I really can't believe you didn't know. I mean, they're your eyes."

Miles rolled said eyes. "Oh yes," He snapped, "I must have known because I love admiring myself in the mirror when I'm practicing magic."

"C'mon, cut the snark," Allie said gently. "Are you okay?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "It's just, all my life I've only had to deal with the visions, and those only became more frequent recently. There's this whole other side of me that I don't really know, and I can do these things that I thought were impossible. I mean, it's been cool, but a lot to deal with in a short amount of time. Y'know?"

He heard Allie say, "Yeah. I know."

.

"WOAH!"

Miles whipped around and flung the bathroom door open just in time to see Dave Stutler flung across the room, hitting the opposite wall with a bang. He glanced over to the stranger to see his eyes wide and glowing gold again, mouth agape in shock. All Miles could say about the scene was, "Well, that escalated quickly."

"Miles, what was that?" Allie's voice exclaimed in his ear.

"Um... I'm going to have to call you back," Miles replied at a clipped speed as he re-enchanted the staff into a pen. "Cover for me with my mom? Please and thank you."

"Miles – ?!"

He jabbed the disconnect button then ran over to Dave. He found the other guy had gotten there first.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy?" the stranger asked, checking the back of the man's head, feeling for a pulse. He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Dave murmured.

"What happened? Why'd you do that?" Miles asked the neckerchief guy.

"I- I didn't mean to!" he stuttered, looking horrified. "My magic's never gone out of control like that. Not when I wasn't angry, at least."

"Remind me never to make you angry," Dave muttered.

"What'd you say to him?" Miles asked Dave.

"I was just telling him how we got him here," the college student explained. "I mentioned seeing him do magic, and he started freaking out." He scowled. "And what is with me getting slammed into walls by British people lately?"

"Tell me about it," Miles muttered, thinking of how Mr. Moore's accent switched from standard American to British the moment he revealed his true intentions. Talk about hammy.

The two boys helped the third stand and led him over to sit on the couch. The neckerchief guy glanced at Miles. "He doesn't seem to have a concussion or anything broken."

"Are you sure?" Miles asked as he went to fetch an ice pack from the fridge.

He shrugged. "Well, I'm the ward of the court physician in my kingdom, so I've been around a lot of sick and wounded people. Not that good with making medicines, I'll admit, but I can at least recognize basic injuries and illnesses."

Miles paused in thought before approaching Dave and applying the ice pack to his head. He whispered to the patient, "Did he just say 'kingdom?'"

Dave grimaced. "Yeah. I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that this guy's not from around here. Y'know, in a temporal sense. Doesn't even know what a lightbulb is, or a phone, or a bathroom."

Miles winced. "Oh boy. How do we break it to him?"

"Better question is, how am I supposed to get him back before the space-time continuum ruptures?"

"Well, why don't we find out what time we have to get him back to first."

"I'm right here you know," the Brit called to them. "Pretty sure you're whispering about me."

Miles and Dave glanced at each other, then at the stranger. "Okay, yes, probably shouldn't have done that," Dave said. "Let's all sit down, shall we? Talk all this out? Yes?"

The other two agreed. As Miles went towards the kitchen table to grab some chairs, he suddenly found them zooming past him along the ground. He turned and saw the tall stranger's eyes glowing again as the chairs settled in the place where Miles had meant to bring them. The stranger flinched as he noticed Dave and Miles staring at him. "Erm, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. My magic... seems to be a little strange today." He shook his head as he sat in the chair. "It hasn't reacted to my subconscious thoughts like that for a few years now. Not since I started learning spells"

"It comes that easily to you? Without a spell?" Dave asked.

The neckerchief guy glanced at the floor, the tips of his large ears turning red in embarrassment. "I've been able to use magic as far back as I can remember. It's always come naturally. Sometimes too naturally."

Dave crossed his arms. 'Who is this guy?' His attempt at controlling other objects like had ended in complete disaster, everything quickly escalating out of control (and that was with the ring, and plenty of concentration). This guy could probably do it without even thinking about it! Still, he recognized the other sorcerer's discomfort with others knowing about his magic and couldn't help but sympathize. "Look, I didn't mean to freak you out. But it's not like we're going to tell anyone about you. I mean, we've both got our own secrets to hide."

"Oh, so you did tell him we had magic," Miles said. "I wasn't sure."

The prodigy's eyes narrowed. "Just because you have magic as well doesn't mean you'll keep my secret. You could use that knowledge against me. I already have someone holding a secret over my head, and she has no idea about me having magic. If she did, I can tell you now I wouldn't get to keep my head for long." He smirked. "And I'd rather like to keep it, as I've grown somewhat attached to it."

The other two chuckled at the quip, but felt bad, wondering what kind of situation the other sorcerer was in that he was being blackmailed. Miles in particular shuddered at the idea of beheading.

"I guess that's why you reacted the way you did," Miles said.

The neckerchief guy sighed. "When you said you knew what I was, I just seized up. My magic did the rest, I suppose." He glanced down at his hands, bemused.

"Well, do you trust us now?" Dave asked. "Because I'd rather not fear for my safety if I don't have to."

The other said with a goodnatured smile, "Well, considering that I have no idea where I am, except that it's somewhere called..." He trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "... actually, I think I've even forgotten the name."

"New York."

"Ah, right. New York." He cocked his head. "Why is it 'new'?"

Dave shrugged. "Well there's an actual place called 'York' that the founders took it from. Not very original, but before that it was New Amsterdam, so there you go."

The neckerchief guy pursed his lips. "Interesting." He continued, "So, considering my lack of knowledge of the area, I need to trust someone, right? And then... I don't know." he took a step towards them, his eyes focused intently on them. "I just have a sense that I should trust you." A dark look crossed his pale face. "I'll admit I've been wrong about people before. And it's cost me. But if the magic acted on its own to bring us together, then I have to believe it was for a good reason." He shook his head. "The fact that I'm telling you all of this is remarkable in and of itself."

"I know what you mean," Miles chuckled. "So, is that all you know?"

"That's about it. Anything else I should know?"

"Well, what else do you want to know?" Dave asked warily.

The boy with the large ears grinned. "Your names would be nice. I don't want to keep referring to you in my head as 'the hooded guy' and 'the short one.'"

Miles glowered. He wasn't that short! Puberty just wasn't done with him yet. He turned his irritation on Dave. "You didn't ask his name or introduce yourself? Way to go."

Dave put down his ice pack and defended, "Excuse me if I was busy trying to figure out how to explain all this without freaking him out."

"Well then, I guess introductions are in order," the high-schooler said. He smiled at the familiar stranger. "I'm Miles."

The college student waved. "Dave."

The boy in the neckerchief, quite nonchalantly, said, "Merlin."

.

The air seemed to still. The friendly smiles of the two other sorcerers slipped off, both letting a single word drop from their lips: "What?"

The so-called Merlin frowned, confused. "What's wrong?"

Miles shook his head. 'It's not possible.' "Sorry," he said, trying to sound calm, "I must have misheard you, because I could've sworn you said your name is," the high-schooler gulped, then croaked, "Merlin."

"No, that's right," said the boy known as Merlin, unaware of the effect his name had on the other two.

Miles glanced over at Dave, who was still staring at the third sorcerer. Miles tried to get his attention, but the physics major was unresponsive. He turned back to the neckerchief guy. "Okay. Right. So, um, Merlin," he said, barely believing what he was saying, but keeping his voice level all the same, "Where exactly are you from?"

"Well, I was born in a little town called Ealdor..." the boy called Merlin responded.

Miles heard Dave exhale a huge sigh of relief, and couldn't help but breathe one of his own. Neither sorcerer knew where this "Ealdor" was, and it didn't help in getting the other boy back, but any response was better than –

"...But, I currently live in the city of Camelot."

Dave and Miles cursed in their heads.

"So let me get this straight," Miles said. "Your name is Merlin, you have powerful magic, and you live in Camelot?"

The young man gave him a curious look. "Well, yes. That about sums it up."

Miles leaned back in his chair, his head beginning to spin as he took in the situation. The only lucid thought he had was, 'Well, this definitely explains why he seemed so familiar.'

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked Miles. "You look ill."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Miles muttered, not really sure if he was.

"This can't be happening." Merlin and Miles turned to see Dave standing up, an odd look on his face.

Merlin glanced at Miles. "Is he okay?" he said, jutting a thumb in Dave's direction.

Miles stared at Dave. "I'm not entirely sure."

As though he hadn't heard the exchange, Dave rambled on, "No, no, no, no, no! This definitely isn't happening!" He began pacing, still holding the ice pack to his head. "Merlin isn't in my apartment. He doesn't look my age. I didn't accidentally pull him from his time, thus putting the space-time continuum as well as my own life in jeopardy. I'm already responsible for a minor, and this whole day in general has just been a disaster, just – no! No more! I never wanted any of this!" He threw the ice pack to the floor. "I quit! I'm done! No more magic, no more Merlinians or Morganians or rings or British people! Why won't they all just leave me alone?!" Dave sank to the floor, head in his hands. He tasted sour bile in his throat, uncontrollable tremors wracking his body as he lost all will to function. It was a feeling all too familiar to him, no matter how much he tried to block out those memories of ten years ago. He gave a weak, slightly unhinged laugh. "David Stutler pulling another David Stutler. The psychiatrists will have a field day. " Tank the dog tottled over to Dave and nuzzled his leg with a little whine, clearly noting the distress. Dave didn't even notice.

After a moment of awkward silence, the boy known as Merlin, eyes darting between the nervous wreck and the high-schooler, finally asked, "What exactly is 'pulling a David Stutler'?"

Miles stared at Merlin for few long moments, then sighed, bowing his head. "I have no idea. But I may have to join him."

Chapter Text

Part 5: The Ring

Originally published June 2013

Revised May 2014

Merlin had experienced some strange things over the years.

On his second day in Camelot, he was lead by a disembodied voice to a cavern underneath the castle, where the last dragon in existence told him his destiny to protect Arthur Pendragon. That enormous creature, gold scales glittering, growling that the royal ass who used servants for target practice was going to bring peace to the land, was by far the most bizarre thing that he'd ever experienced.

But, not the only one.

He had seen Arthur cursed with the ears and voice of a donkey (though, that had been hilarious, considering how the prince acted sometimes).

He had witnessed Arthur's father marry a literal troll (also hilarious, though disgusting).

He'd aged himself into an 80-year-old man (not something he wanted to repeat).

He'd seen the magnificent unicorn, the gateway to Avalon, the Fisher King, the Crystal Cave, and all sorts of fantastic and dangerous things normal people could never fathom.

Yet, despite all this experience, he had no idea what to make of this situation.

Merlin sat in the kitchen, scratching the ears of the dog, whose squashed nose and pronounced jowl were strange to Merlin, yet endearing. "What do you suppose your master is talking about over there, boy?" Merlin whispered to the dog, who leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation. Merlin couldn't make out what the boys were saying across the room, but from their glances towards him, he could hazard a guess. Though Miles had coaxed Dave out of his trance (or whatever "pulling a David Stutler" was), Dave seemed no less manic than before. And while Miles was more constrained, Merlin recognized his expression from all those times Arthur was leading his men into what seemed certain death – a calm surface hiding a stormy mind.

How did my name do this? he wondered. Being recognized by strangers was becoming less and less strange for the young warlock, as many druids knew of the destiny given to him in their prophecies. But, the druids revered him as "Emrys," not as "Merlin." As Merlin, he was a goofy, put-upon servant. Yet Dave and Miles regarded the name Merlin the way the druids regarded Emrys, staring at him in awe. And in fear.

Fear. Merlin stared down at his hands. Something was off about his magic, something that was making it more difficult to contain. And that made Merlin more afraid of himself than Miles or Dave could ever be.

It was strange how he'd once resented having to contain his natural ability. Before Camelot, even as his mother warned him about the dangers of his magic being discovered, he used magic whenever he could (Gaius would say he was careless; Merlin preferred "free-spirited"). But, that was before Camelot, before Arthur. Focusing his magic towards their protection had helped him learn responsibility, so that he only let his guard down in distress.

He knew, of course, that controlling his magic had never stopped it from growing. But, the idea that his magic, while he was unconscious, could whisk him from one place to another, along with two others, was... well, it was unsettling. The only other time he'd performed magic while unconscious was when, as he lay dying due to Nimueh's poison, he'd projected a light to guide Arthur out of the caves of Balor. But that phenomenon had been due to his connection to Arthur. This was different. Not only had he performed the spell in his sleep, but, if Dave's description was correct, he'd also pulled Miles and Dave's magic from them to complete the spell. Merlin had never worked a spell with another sorcerer, but even for this lack of experience, pulling someone's magic from them did not seem normal.

Not to mention having enough energy left over to throw a man into a wall.

Gaius had once told him he was not a monster for the things he could do. But some days...

Merlin sighed, closing his eyes. He couldn't dwell on this. He'd be at it all night if he did, and he had no time for that. He had to get a handle on his magic.

He breathed slowly, reaching to connect with his magic. His fingertips hummed, and then, as though plunging into the Lake of Avalon, Merlin was submerged. He let out a gasp. Heat surged under his skin, rushed up his spine to the top of his head, roaring in his ears.

Woah. He was right to surmise that his magic was erratic, but this was intense. It felt like a sputtering flame, yearning to fill the space with light and heat and energy, but not quite able to. But, why should it want to do that? he wondered. There should have been enough magic in the room, particularly with two other sorcerers there, for it to stabilize. Because for all King Uther had supposedly eliminated magic from Camelot, it was always around, in the water, the trees, in the very air - silent, but always stirring. It was a tangible life force that, when he concentrated, seemed to settle over his skin like a blanket. His magic was usually content to stay nestled in this web of energy, balanced.

But now, as he focused his senses on the magic in the room, the air was still.

Merlin felt cold. "That can't be right," he muttered, but probing the ambient energy again, his fear was confirmed. The magic in the space was low. Lower than any place he'd ever experienced. He blinked his eyes open, mind reeling. No wonder his magic was reacting strangely! In fact, the only level magic in the room was concentrated on the other side...where Dave and Miles stood bickering.

Once again, Merlin didn't know what to think. Before, he had been willing to trust them, as kin in magic. But, something was not right with this place, and if Dave or Miles had something to do with it, something that could prevent him returning to Camelot, he had to be on alert. After all, even though he considered the dragon and, more recently, the young sorcerer, Gilli, to be kin, they had each posed a threat to Camelot that made him force his hand. And Morgana...

He heard a whine beneath him and saw the dog staring up at him expectantly. Merlin chuckled, reaching down to scratch behind the ear again. "Sorry, boy, got lost in my thoughts there." Glancing up at the two young sorcerers again, Merlin wondered why magic couldn't be more simple.

*-.-*-.-*-.-*-.-*

"Merlin is sitting in my kitchen!"

Miles sighed. "Yes."

"Merlin is sitting in my kitchen, and-and he's giving my dog an ear rub!" Dave cried.

"Yes, I know, but – "

"How can you expect me to be calm about this?!"

"I'm not – "

"Maybe you're used to things like this happening, but for me this is very, very bad!" Dave rambled. He was trying to keep his voice low, as neither of them wanted the warlock across the room to hear them. Currently, he was more hissing than whispering. "I mean, I've seen enough time travel related stuff – y'know, Back to the Future, Doctor Who, and whatnot – to know all the horrible things that could go wrong if a person from the past is in the future too long. And with someone like him?" He gestured (more like, flung his arm haphazardly) towards Merlin. "Like, all of Britain could just stop existing, or evil sorcerers could take control of the world, or – !"

Miles gritted his teeth, "Yeah, I get it, this is bad. But we need to be a little calmer so we can figure this out."

Dave closed his eyes and took a deep breath, conscious of the feeling of air filtering in and out of his nostrils, down and out of his felt sticky with sweat, exhausted from the strain the panic attack had put on his body. Nonetheless, he said, "All right, yeah, you're right. I'm – I'm better."

"Good."

Dave sighed. "This is really messed up."

"Extremely." Miles crossed his arms. "Any ideas? Y'know, about why this happened?"

"No more than I had before."

"Which would be?"

"The universe hates me."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Really helpful." The teenager peered over at the man across the room, older than him, yet so, so young. "God, just look at him," he whispered, more to himself than to Dave.

"I know, right?" Dave cried, eyeing the lanky young man. "How is he supposed be the most powerful sorcerer of all time?"

"He's definitely not what I had in mind," Miles muttered. The legendary Merlin he'd read about in Allie's parents' books struck him as a tall, wizened figure of power, purveyor of wisdom and mystery. But this guy? Add a few pimples, and he could be a cosplayer at Comic Con. "Then again," he relented, "appearances can be deceiving. I mean, look at us."

Dave squirmed. "What about us?"

Miles hesitated, not wanting to say too much. "Well ... you didn't know I was a sorcerer when you first saw me, and if it wasn't for the whole teleportation thing, I would think you were an average guy."

Dave snorted. "Please, I wish. I would hardly call being a physics nerd and a certified basket case 'average.'"

Miles' expression softened. "You're not a basket case," he assured, knowing well what it was like to be called crazy.

"Says the guy who witnessed my near-nervous breakdown."

Miles shrugged. "You had a good reason."

Dave sighed, "Besides, it's one thing to be a sorcerer, it's another thing to be a good sorcerer. Even at this age, he's still got us beat by a long shot. The guy did magic in his sleep! There's no way we can compare ourselves to him." Dave stuck his hands in his pockets, shrinking into himself. "We're not good at magic. We're - we're not important. We're just nerds. No comparison whatsoever."

"Wow, Dave, glad to know you think so highly of me after an hour of knowing each other."

"Wait, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… gah!" Dave dragged his hands down his face, wishing he could drag his stress out of his body as well. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just been a really bad day."

Miles nodded, understanding. He was known to get snippy himself when he got when upset. "Well, let's try to be positive," he said, trying to channel his inner Allie, "The future most powerful sorcerer is on our side. Maybe if we talk to him about what's happened, we can – "

"No! No, no, no, no no," Dave exclaimed, holding his hands up. "We can't tell him about all this! I mean we're barely dealing with the fact that he's here, how's he going to deal with it? You saw how he reacted about us knowing he had magic." He rubbed the lingering ache in his shoulders from his encounter with the wall.

"Oh yeah," Miles mumbled. Then, he added, "But, the longer he's here, we risk changing the future. Wouldn't it be better if he helped us?"

Dave groaned, "No! Telling him he's in the future could also change the future. He'll be wondering how we know about him, and that's major spoiler territory."

Miles glanced over at Merlin again, who was giving them a cursory look of his own. "I think he already is wondering."

.

The two continued to volley ideas back and forth, but all the while Dave's dread grew. It felt like, no matter what he did, he was trapped. Trapped with a dangerous visitor he couldn't get rid of, a humiliating past that wouldn't let him be, and a destiny he couldn't live up to - past, present, and future all accounted for. It's not my destiny, he reminded himself. I'm not the Prime Merlinian. I gave back the book, the old man's shoes, and Balthazar didn't stop me. I'm done, it's over, end of story.

So, why did he still feel like this? Was he guilty about disappointing Balthazar? Was it Becky making him question if he was right to give it all up? Or was it something deeper, that niggling inside him that actually liked magic, that stopped him from throwing the ring away years ago?

One thing was clear to him: if he faced his so-called destiny, he would end up dead. And still disappoint Balthazar. So, of course, he chose not to die. He still had a choice... didn't he?

He clenched his hands into fists, and stared down at the dragon ring. He remembered the moment Balthazar had placed the figurine in his hands, how the cold metal had jolted, turned warm in his hand. How the dragon had shaken its head, blinking up at him before climbing under his hand and wrapping around his finger. The moment his fate was sealed.

.

Suddenly, Dave saw Miles go rigid. "Act natural," he hissed through his teeth.

The apprentice turned to see Merlin walking over. He was smiling, but his eyes were tentative. "Hey, how are you feeling? Seems like you've calmed down."

Dave started nodding profusely, heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good, a-okay, absolutely fantastic..."

Miles jabbed Dave's arm and he promptly closed his mouth.

Merlin's eyes trailed between the two. "Right, well, now that that's over, I would appreciate if you could tell me how to get back to Camelot."

Miles and Dave glanced at each other. "We're still trying to figure that part out," Miles said.

"Do you have a map?"

"I doubt that Camelot would show up on any map I have," Dave responded, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Really? You think it's that far?"

"Pretty sure, yeah," Miles muttered.

"Well, do you have any idea of the basic direction?"

They shook their heads.

"A horse I could borrow?"

"I've never even touched a horse," Dave admitted.

Merlin sighed in frustration. "Fine, if you can't help me, perhaps I could go ask in town..." Merlin headed towards the door, intending to call the dragon once he found a clearing.

Dave squeaked, then sprinted and threw himself in front of the door. "No! No, no, no, y-you don't want to do that."

Miles groaned. 'Real subtle, Dave.'

Merlin gave Dave an expression that could rival Gaius' harshest looks. "And why not?"

Dave's eyes widened as he realized he was potentially inciting the wrath of a very powerful sorcerer. His mind raced. "Um... be-because..." Dave snapped his fingers. "...You need rest! No, wait, you were unconscious before... You haven't eaten! All that magic, y'know," Dave waved his fingers, "takes a lot out of you. I think I have some leftover pizza in the refrigerator."

Miles jumped in with, "Ooh! I could go for some of that myself. I've never had New York pizza."

"Oh, dude, seriously it's the best. You'd both love it."

Merlin realized this was a ploy to divert his attention. He knew well how to play a fool, but it had been a long time since he had actually been that gullible. He folded his arms, and in a low voice, said, "You're hiding something."

Dave gulped as Miles grumbled, "So much for pizza."

Merlin sighed, but kept his stance. "Look," he said slowly. "I don't want to fight you." His eyes darkened. "But, if you try to stop me from getting back to Camelot, you may leave me no choice. So, tell me what's going on."

Dave drew back. It finally sunk in that this Merlin, for all his youth, was truly the Merlin. If the apprentice wasn't afraid before, he was now. Still, he stepped towards the warlock. "We- We're not stopping you getting back to Camelot. In fact, there's nothing I would like better than for you to get back to Camelot."

"Same," Miles added, raising his hand.

"But, it's not that simple. If you know too much, it could be dangerous," Dave continued.

"I've faced danger before," Merlin replied.

"Not like this you haven't," Dave countered. "Look, I'm the one who got you into this mess, so you're my responsibility. I'll do what I can to get you home. But you've got to trust me."

Merlin glanced down. "I want to, I do, but..."

Miles remembered what Merlin had said before, about being mistaken about people. How it had cost him. "Merlin, I know what it's like."

Merlin's eyes darted to Miles. "What?"

"I know what it's like, to make a bad call. To get hurt, or watch someone else get hurt because of it." He stepped towards Merlin. "But, I also know that not everyone's out to get you. And that sometimes you have to keep a secret from someone for their own good." He gave Merlin a fixed look. "I have a feeling you've had to do that as well."

The warlock faltered, his arms slipping to his sides. "Only every day of my life."

Dave and Miles exchanged a glance. Miles meant to strike a nerve, but ... had he gone too far?

After a moment's hesitation, Dave gave Merlin an awkward, but reassuring pat on the shoulder. Normally, Merlin would have pulled himself together and thanked Dave for the kind gesture. He might have even extended his trust to Dave, finally.

.

But the dragon ring on Dave's finger did something that stopped any and all thoughts dead.

.

The emerald on the ring sparked to life, casting an unearthly glow on the warlock's skin. Then, as if awaking from a slumber, the little dragon shook its head, unwinding its tail from around Dave's finger.

"What's it doing?" Merlin asked.

But Dave couldn't answer, watching in horrified fascination as the dragon leapt off his finger and crawled down Merlin's arm, miniscule claws latching to the fabric of his jacket. Once it settled in Merlin's hand, it didn't turn back into a ring, as Dave would expect, but instead it nuzzled his finger like a lonely housecat.

Merlin saw none of this, because the very moment the metal touched his skin, his magic reacted, forcing his eyes closed. An immense power had created the dragon ring, that much Merlin could tell. But, there was something else about it that seemed natural to him, intimate – like seeing an old friend.

Miles' eyes were forced close at the same instant. Images flashed behind his closed eyelids: his hand clasped around a flaming torch as he gazed up at a huge, golden-scaled creature that almost seemed to smirk. It opened its jaws and aimed a fireball right towards him...

...And, with a jolt, he was back in the apartment. 'Huh, no pain again.' Then, his eyes widened as he realized, 'Was that a dragon?'

Before Miles could mull over this, Dave burst out, "Oh crud, that's right, it's yours!" The apprentice clutched his head, stumbling back as he stared at Merlin. "I totally forgot it was your ring!"

Though the other two were a bit slow on the uptake, they realized simultaneously:

"My ring?"

"His ring?"

Dave glanced between the great warlock and the high school student. "Okay, that was creepy."

"How did you get Merlin's ring?" Miles asked, his mind racing to wrap around all the implications. "And how could you not mention this?"

Dave backed away as he came closer. "I told you, I forgot!"

Miles cried, "That's an important detail to forget."

"I just found out yesterday!" the apprentice defended.

"Who are you?" Dave and Miles turned to see Merlin taking a step away from them, his eyes boring into them. "I've never met either of you, yet you know my name, you know of my magic, and you aren't letting me leave."

Dave flinched, a weak chuckle escaping him. "Well, when you say it like that it sounds shifty, doesn't it?"

He stepped towards them, making Dave and Miles back away. "No more lies, no more aversions. Tell me what's going on, and how to get back to Camelot, or you will regret it."

Dave's back met the wall. "L-Let's all just calm down, okay? We don't want your magic to act up again."

"I think it's too late for that," Miles whispered beside him, staring at the small objects all around the room rising into the air. He drew his hand to the "pen" in his pocket. Would they have to fight Merlin? Could they?

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "If my magic is acting up, it's only because this place is devoid of it. Care to explain that as well?"

Dave held up his hands, crying, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

.

"That's enough."

.

The three young sorcerers froze, staring at each other. Not only had that last statement not originated among them – it had not been spoken aloud.

Their gazes shifted downwards to the miniature silver dragon in Merlin's hand. The living figurine stared up at them as the voice sounded in their minds again: "Greetings."

The floating objects fell from the air, but none of them noticed.

Dave felt faint. "The ring is talking."

"I'm guessing it's never done that before?" Miles asked, feeling a bit dizzy himself.

Dave glared at the high schooler. "You think?" He crouched down to glare at the dragon. "I swear, if Balthazar is doing this, I'm going to – "

Suddenly, Merlin shushed him, eyes wide. "I know that voice."

Miles started. "You do?" He thought the voice sounded like Ollivander in the Harry Potter films, but that made even less sense than the actual talking did.

Merlin raised the figurine to eye level, staring. It didn't seem possible. But then, was it stranger than anything else he'd encountered? "Kilgharrah?"

A low rumble of content stirred in his mind. "Young warlock. It's been a long, long time..."

Chapter Text

Part 6: The Dragon

Originally published June 2014

Merlin tilted his head, staring, open-mouthed, at his friend. After a moment trying to find the words to express his amazement, he simply said, "You're... small."

Kilgharrah huffed. "Very observant, Merlin," he drawled, his wizened voice reverberating in their heads. "Yes, I am small. I am also an animate piece of jewelry. Do keep up."

"But who did this to you?" He pointed to Dave. "Was it him?"

"Hey!" Dave argued. "He came to me like this! How could I know there was a-a conscious person in there?" If he had known, he probably wouldn't have left the ring in his sock drawer all those years.

"No matter," Kilgharrah said. "I have not been conscious until now."

Dave sighed in relief. "Oh, good!"

"And I've never been human."

"What are you?" Miles asked.

The figure puffed out its chest. "In life, I was of the noble breed of dragons."

"Dragon?!" Dave jumped back, eyes wide as saucers. "Oh God, not another one!"

Miles's eyes also widened, but not because of the existence of a dragon. He realized this must have been the dragon from his vision - a vision of the past, rather than the future. "That explains the shape of the ring."

Merlin turned to Dave, eyebrow raised. "You've seen a dragon before?"

Dave started, then recomposed himself. "Well, it wasn't a real dragon, like, hatched from an egg, but it was real enough to nearly charbroil me."

"Do not fear, Master David," the former dragon said. "I have not always been peaceful, I must admit, but even if I were my former size, I would not hurt you. We are bonded, after all, as ring and sorcerer."

Suddenly, Merlin went rigid.

"What's wrong?" Miles asked.

But Merlin didn't respond. Instead, he lifted the dragon until they were staring eye-to-eye. In a low voice, he asked, "When you said you were a dragon 'in life,' what did you mean?"

The statuette looked up at Merlin, a touch of sadness on his brow. "I'm afraid... this is not my true self, Merlin. Only part of my soul has been sealed in this ring, by my own choice. The rest has departed this world, beyond the veil."

Merlin felt as though he'd been pierced by that serket in the woods all over again. "But... but I don't understand," he said, voice trembling. Kilgharrah and he hadn't been getting along well lately, but he couldn't be gone, not like this. He hated to admit it, but he cared about the old dragon. He was one of the few who knew him for what he really was, and was an invaluable resource for protecting the kingdom. "I just saw you the other day. I-I had to talk to you about Gilli, remember? The sorcerer who entered the tournament –"

"It was the other day for you, yes. But for myself, it has been much longer."

Dave and Miles glanced to each other, wide-eyed.

"Wait," Dave started, "You're not going to–"

"You are under the impression, Merlin," the dragon interceded, "that you have only been transported through space. But, this is not so. You have been transported through space and through time, to the year 2010 Anno Domini."

Dave and Miles flinched. Well, he'd said it.

The blood seemed to drain from Merlin's face. "Two-thousand-and...no, that's impossible."

"Think on it, Merlin. The apprentice and the wizard knew you by name, because your name has become legend over hundreds of years. They have stopped you from leaving, afraid you would be overwhelmed by this future world. And by now I'm sure you've noticed the level of magic is different from what you're used to."

Merlin started. He couldn't deny the lack of magic. But could this really be why? "Prove it."

The figurine's metal mouth seemed to smirk. "Merlin, your sense for magic is almost as honed as mine. Can you not tell who else's magic is in this ring?"

Merlin blinked. Then, slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the figure, and closed his eyes. Again, he could sense that the immense magic in the object easily, but it would take a little more focus to identify it. Part of it belonged to the Great Dragon himself, that was certain. He knew his magic well, like the voice of a friend, or the scent of his home in Ealdor. The other part was a magic nearly as old as the dragon's, something like the magic on the Isle of the Blessed. Yet again, he sensed something familiar and affectionate about the energy. Then, his magic surged, hot and seething, down his arm. It coalesced in his hand, the energy thrumming under his skin... and the ring hummed in sync.

"It's mine," he realized, breathless. "It's my magic, but it's... old." He pinched his eyes shut, shaking his head. "No, that's not the word. The magic itself isn't aged, but the spells have been in place a long time. It's..."

"Meant to last?" Miles offered.

"Yes!" Merlin said. "The magic was meant to last. For centuries, it feels like." He looked to the dragon. "But I've never cast a spell like this."

"Not yet. "

And then, it sank in. "I'm really in the future." He felt limp as he dropped onto the couch behind him.

After a moment, Miles asked, "You okay?"

Merlin nodded slowly, still dazed. "I will be. It's not the most shocking thing I've ever heard, but it's ... a lot to process."

"Understatement of the year," Dave mumbled. "For the record, though, you're taking this a lot better than I expected."

Merlin sat there for what felt like an age, letting his mind absorb the news until, finally, he looked to the dragon. "You said I had become legend. What of Arthur? Camelot?"

Miles blinked in surprise. How could a Merlin so young know about Arthur?

The dragon chuckled. "You would ask about them first. Both are legends, but both have long since passed into myth, as have you and I."

Merlin sank back into the couch, eyes staring ahead. Arthur was dead, his kingdom gone. Of course it was natural, it had been a thousand years. The fact that anyone knew their names at all was remarkable – they truly would be remembered through the ages, as had been foretold. But, it felt wrong for him to be standing in a time and place where his friend and his destiny did not exist.

Sensing his thoughts, Kilgharrah added, "Take heart, Merlin, you'll be back with Arthur soon enough."

Merlin nodded slowly, then turned to Dave. "I'm guessing this is what you meant when you said the ring was mine."

Dave shrugged. "Basically, yeah. You're not still mad at us, are you?"

Merlin gave a small smile. "No. If anything, I'm sorry I reacted so harshly."

"Still doesn't explain how you got the ring, though," Miles muttered, arms crossed.

"The ring is rightfully his, make no mistake about that," the dragon said as it scurried up Merlin's arm to perch on his shoulder. "One of the enchantments placed by the older Merlin was that the magic in the ring would not activate until it found its rightful owner. The other was that I would not awaken until the ring had summoned and made contact with Merlin. As you can see, Merlin's magic never fails – at least, when properly applied."

Merlin shook his head at the mention of his older self. He could now say this was the strangest thing he had ever experienced.

Dave repeated, "Would not awaken until the ring summoned...?" His eyes widened. "Wait, are you saying... you knew this would happen? Merlin knew this would happen?!"

Kilgharrah nodded.

"So, time isn't gonna be screwed up because Merlin's here?" Miles asked.

"Correct. His memory of the events of this day, of you two, will be wiped from his memory until close to his death, at which point he will take action to ensure things would go as they should. This included making sure I would be here to tell you what you needed to know. Thus, here I am."

Merlin frowned at the fact that he wasn't going to remember Dave or Miles after all this was over, but considering his experiences dealing with foreknowledge, maybe it was for the best.

Dave, however, threw his hands in the air and cried, "Why couldn't anyone have mentioned that before?! Shouldn't there be a warning in the Encantus, like: 'Hey, Dave, don't freak out if Merlin is summoned through time and lands at your feet – that's totally normal'?" He marched up to the dragon and glared down at it. "And this isn't the first time you've caused me trouble."

The figurine bared its teeth, and leapt from Merlin's shoulder to Dave's arm, tiny claws latching onto his sleeve. "The only reason, David, that this occurred was because you needed help, so I would not be so quick to lay blame."

"I didn't ask for help!"

"You wished that someone would understand."

Merlin and Miles glanced at each other. Dave started to correct him, but the words died in his throat. He had wished that, hadn't he? "I...well..." he sighed. "This wasn't what I had in mind."

"Who would?" Miles wondered.

"Maybe not, but it's what you'll need. Especially for what's coming."

Merlin stood up. "What's coming?"

A growl of disapproval rumbled in their heads. "I gather he hasn't told you, then."

Miles glanced at Dave. "About what?"

Kilgharrah sighed. "Morgana."

Their blood ran cold at the name. "No," Merlin whispered. The witch's face swam before his eyes – dark wavy locks tumbling past her shoulders, a malicious smirk hidden to all but him.

"Morgana?" Miles asked the dragon. "As in Morgana le Fay? She's alive?"

"She was never called le Fay in our time, but yes."

"But, if we're so far in the future, how could she still be alive?" Merlin asked. Why Morgana, and not Arthur?

"She has been trapped in a magical device you will later invent, called the Grimhold, which keeps her in suspended animation – she cannot die, but she cannot cast spells either. However, there are forces gathering that wish to free her, and if they succeed, she will cast a spell that will doom the entire world."

Merlin scoffed. "What, just conquering a kingdom wasn't enough for her anymore?" Despite playing it off, inside, he was hurt. Though he had seen what Morgana had become, and was determined to stop her from hurting the kingdom, there was a tiny part of him that had hoped that she could still be redeemed. But if she was still so wicked after a thousand years, how could he hold out any hope?

"Wait," Miles said, interrupting Merlin's thoughts, "what does Morgana have to do with Dave?"

Dave gulped as the two other sorcerers looked at him inquisitively. He glanced down at the ring. "Mr. Dragon, could you maybe explain all this?"

The figure gave him a withering look."Never call me that again. And you must be the one to explain, Master David."

Dave's voice hiked up an octave as he said, "What?! Why?"

"You must take ownership of your own story."

"What does that even mean?" he argued. But, with all eyes on him, he caved and said, "Fine. You're gonna want to sit down for this." So they did, and Dave began, "At some point in your future, Merlin, sorcerers will fall into two sects: the Merlineans and the Morganians. Merlineans are the good guys, and they'll follow you and your example, hence the term 'Merlineans.' And the Morganians are evil jerkfaces, and they follow–"

"Morgana, yeah. I get it," Merlin muttered, downcast.

Miles peered sideways at him. He'd read many different versions of Arthurian legends, all with different relationships between Morgana and Merlin. But which one was the true one? Clearly she had meant something to him once, or he wouldn't sound so bitter about her. Miles just hoped they hadn't been romantically involved. That would be more than a bit awkward.

"Anyway," Dave continued, "Merlin, you had this apprentice–"

"An apprentice? Really?" Merlin's eyes brightened, and he found himself smiling. He had thought about teaching magic ever since the young sorcerer, Gilli, had left Camelot. Although he had been able to teach Gilli a lesson about magic, he had desired to teach him actual magic. The idea thrilled him. He liked to imagine a day, after Arthur lifted the ban on magic and brought peace to Albion, that he could have a student.

"Go on," Miles told Dave, seeing Merlin was lost in thought.

"Okay, so," Dave continued, "your apprentice, Balthazar - you trusted him enough that when you... well... died," Dave gave Merlin a moment to settle with that idea, then went on, "you gave your dragon ring to him so that he could identify your successor, the..." And Dave sighed, before drawling out, "the Prime Merlinean, who is, apparently, the only one who can destroy Morgana–"

"Mor-gah-na," Merlin interrupted.

"What?"

"You were saying it wrong."

Dave threw his hands out. "I'm American! Sue me." Merlin looked perplexed by the statement. "Oh, right, you wouldn't … never mind. Anyway, the Prime Merlinean is the only one who can destroy Mor-gah-na," he looked pointedly at Merlin, "once and for all. Like, forever."

Merlin and Miles paused, letting the information sink in. Miles leaned towards Dave. "So, if you're the rightful owner of the ring, does that mean–"

"–that you're my successor?" Merlin finished, mystified.

Dave sighed. This was the part he didn't want to talk about. "Well, apparently we are distantly related. And the ring seems to think I have the potential."

"I don't think so," Kilgharrah purred in his ear, "I know so."

If Dave could strangle the metal figure, he would. "The thing is, you aren't really the Prime Merlinean until you don't need the ring to cast spells anymore. A point which... I haven't reached yet." 'Nor will I ever,' he thought.

Merlin stared at the boy. On the one hand, he felt relieved to find a connection to this stranger, so that he didn't feel so alone in this place and time. But, he was also sad. This boy from the future had the weight of the world on his shoulders, all because Merlin had failed to stop Morgana all those years ago. So, he stood up and put a hand on Dave's shoulder. "You'll get there," he said gently. "It's not like I always get spells right on the first try."

Dave frowned. "You're just saying that. I mean, you're freaking Merlin."

Merlin crossed his arms. "I don't know what your stories have said about me, but I can tell you, I'm not perfect. Not even close. I've had potions explode in my face. I've worked on spells through the night, failing over a hundred times before I got it right. I've cast a spell that I couldn't undo when I needed to. And some spells I'm still not great at – healing for one."

"Not to mention all the times you came running to me for help," Kilgharrah added.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the dragon, but nodded in agreement. He turned back to Dave, "The point is, being a good sorcerer doesn't mean being able to do a spell on the first try. It means giving yourself room to grow, and having humility enough to admit you need help. Something, I can tell you, that Morgana has never learned." He glanced downwards, his eyes dark. "Or, if she knew it once, she has since forgotten."

This confirmed to Miles what he had thought before. To lighten the mood, he joked, "And seriously, who came up with 'Prime Merlinean' anyway? They couldn't just call you 'The Chosen One' like those other fantasy heroes?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "You're telling me." He turned to Merlin, his expression softened. "Thanks." He wasn't sure if he believed Merlin, but he appreciated the warlock's confidence.

Merlin smiled. "Anytime." Then, he said, "I do have to ask, though: why would you need the ring to cast spells at all? I've never needed any device to focus my magic. I know some who have, but certainly not every sorcerer I've met."

"You forget, Merlin, that sorcerers who are not creatures of the Old Religion, as you are, have always needed something exterior to channel magic." said the dragon. "Whether that be through spells, poultices, or herbs. And there came a point, after the Golden Age of Camelot, that the power of the Old Religion began to retreat from the realm. Not to fade completely, mind, but to loosen its grip. Sorcerers thus had to turn more to the magic within, and many of the old practices fell away. Magical objects, like the Grimhold, were still created, and Merlineans and Morganians also created new practices, but it still became limited. Those practitioners who remained became reliant on magic conductors, some to produce magic, some to stop magic from spilling out of them. Even you needed a ring after a while, for reasons that I think are clear now."

Merlin nodded. "My magic keeps wanting to spread out and fill the void." He could feel it humming in his fingertips even at this moment, want to burst out and seep into the air. "Why did the magic retreat in such a way?"

"I cannot say."

Merlin sighed. "Of course you can't," he mumbled.

After an awkward silence, Miles went ahead and asked, "So, what happened to the apprentice, by the way?"

"Oh, he's still alive," Dave said. "Older Merlin cast a spell to keep him the same age while he was searching all those years."

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "I did what now?"

Dave continued, "And then he found me, gave me the ring, got trapped in a magic urn for ten years, came back, found me again, and after helping him retrieve the Grimhold, I agreed to be his apprentice. Aaaand that's the story." Well, it was if you left out the terrors, nervous breakdowns, and abandonment of his training.

Ignoring the "ten years in an urn" thing (which did strike him as curious), Miles interjected, "Wait, so he's your master? He teaches you magic?"

"Yup."

He raised an eyebrow, eyes half-lidded. "So, you knew a magic expert this whole time whom we could have asked for help, and you said nothing?"

"...Ssssorta?"

Merlin held up his hands. "Hate to interrupt, but can someone tell me how I managed to keep a man alive for a thousand years?"

"If you recall, Merlin, you do have the power over life and death."

Merlin's head swiveled around to look at the dragon. His eyes narrowed. "I would never use that power again, Kilgharrah. You know that. Not with the Old Religion's price."

"Because you've never killed anyone in the line of duty?"

Merlin squirmed. "We both know it's an entirely different thing." Still, could his future self have possibly forgotten all the anguish that power caused, even if used for the best intentions?

"Whoa, whoa, what's this about killing people?" Miles asked as he bolted up from his seat, a tremor in his voice.

Merlin peered at Miles, curious. He seemed more struck by the idea that Merlin had killed people than he himself had. Perhaps the so-called legends had painted a different picture of him?

"There is a power," Merlin explained, his tone grave, "to be able to give back a life, or to create a new one. But to give a life, another must be taken. It's a rare gift, only wielded by the most powerful of sorcerers."

"Like you," Dave said. And it wasn't a question.

Merlin pressed his mouth in a thin line. "...Yes. Like me. But, I've only ever used that power once, and I didn't realize what it was I'd done until afterwards. I hoped to never use it again." He looked back to the dragon. "Please, Kilgharrah, I need to know what I did..." He trailed off, suddenly unsure, "...Er, what I will do, rather...no, wait..."

"Just go with 'did,' it's easier," Miles suggested. Merlin nodded, feeling this was getting stranger by the minute.

Kilgharrah sighed. "You did use your power over life and death. But you did not sacrifice another life to make the deal – you gave your own, instead."

The three sorcerers were struck silent, staring at the dragon. Even Merlin, though relieved he had not stooped so low, was surprised.

"You see, Merlin, you were given a vision. You knew you would die soon, although," the dragon murmured, a touch of grief in his voice, "you did not know how it would come to pass. But, knowing it would happen, and knowing David would come along, you made a deal with the Old Religion that, when you perished, your life would be given to your three apprentices, so that they could await the Prime Merlinean's arrival."

"Three? The Old Religion took that deal?" Merlin asked, surprised.

"Well, it was you . As I said, it was loosening its grip on this world by then. It was more willing to work with you to preserve enough of the old magic for the world to still work, and to cultivate the new. To keep three alive to protect the Prime Merlinean was a price they were willing to pay. Especially since Morgana's plan would upset the balance of life and death to a catastrophic degree."

"Is she using an army of skeletons again?"

"No, young warlock, something far worse than that." The dragon peered up at Dave.

Dave took his cue, and explained, "It's this ritual called 'The Rising.' It will bring back evil dead sorcerers from all over the world so that she can enslave mankind."

Miles' eyes widened. "Like, all of them?"

Merlin paled. "So every evil sorcerer I've killed: Mary Collins, Edwin Muirden, Nimueh, Cornelius Sigan..."

"...And every evil sorcerer that has died in the thousand years since, yes. I'm afraid so."

Merlin shook his head. "We can't let that happen."

"Exactly. That's why you and the wizard are here."

"But, wait," Miles said. "Isn't our victory a moot point? If Merlin went back to the past unharmed, doesn't that mean we already know this will turn out well?"

Dave stood up, a grin stretching across his face. "You're right! We win! Oh man, that's such a relief..."

"It's not that simple."

Dave dropped back into the chair. "Oh, come on! Why not?"

"Merlin got back unharmed, yes. But the battle in the future was not yet done when it happened."

They paused to let this sink in. "Ohhhh!"

"Yes. Once Merlin has fulfilled his role, he will be pulled back to his time. Y our fates will remain to be seen."

"But I can't just leave them to face Morgana by themselves!" Merlin cried. "What kind of role would pull me out before the fight was over?"

"A role that will make sure you don't die before your destiny with Arthur is complete."

That shut Merlin up quickly.

Despite all the stress the warlock from the past had put him through, Dave was impressed that Merlin would stay to help them fight Morgana, even though he had to get back to Camelot. He could see why Balthazar became his apprentice. Still, he had to wonder, "Why is Miles here, though? He has nothing to do with this mess."

Miles gulped.

"His role will be revealed in time," was all the dragon said.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Well, that's a diplomatic answer."

"I don't know what that means," Merlin said. "But if it means vague and unhelpful, then I agree." He smirked at Kilgharrah. "A thousand years and you haven't changed a bit."

A crease appeared in the metal dragon's brow. "That well may be. But I was asked by you, Merlin, not to say more than that."

Merlin blinked. Between the foresight and the secrecy, he was starting to think he was going to turn into Kilgharrah when he got older. Minus the scales, of course.

"Okay," Miles said, glancing at the dragon, "So, we know Merlin has a thing for dragons, Dave is Merlin's great-times-a-hundred grandnephew or something, and Morgana wants to initiate the zombie apocalypse. Is there anything else we need to know?"

"Merlin instructed me to leave one last message for each of you before I reverted back to ring state."

Merlin frowned. "Do you have to?"

The dragon leapt back into Merlin's hand, silver wings fluttering. "As I said before, Merlin, my time on this earth is done. This is just an echo of what I was. David needs me as a ring so he can become strong enough to defeat Morgana."

Merlin nodded sadly. "Go on, then."

The dragon turned to Dave. "First, Master David."

Dave bent down to look the dragon in the eye. "Any chance you're about to tell me how to defeat Morgana?"

"I'm afraid you have to figure that out on your own."

Dave shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"Merlin did, however, wish to tell you this: you are not his inferior. In many ways, you are equal – in magic, in intelligence, and in character. But you have also been given something that neither Merlin nor Morgana ever had. With all this, you may be able to fulfill your destiny, if only you have the courage to seize it."

Dave wrinkled his nose. "Uh...thanks?" He thought that Balthazar must have learned his knack for useless mottos from the dragon. Even if he wanted to go back to his destiny, how could he face Balthazar again? It was not an option.

The dragon peered up at Merlin. "Merlin, you should know that Camelot, though gone, still has its allies, and its enemies. And though some things may seem changed from what you knew, at their core, they are the same." Then, the metal dragon appeared to smile. "Also, I may not be alive, but I am glad I had the chance to see you again."

Merlin had no idea what that could be referring to. But Kilgharrah was kin, and he trusted he would understand in time. "Thank you."

Finally, he leapt onto the high schooler's palm. Miles felt a slight hum in his hand as he heard the dragon say, "For you, young wizard, Merlin had no particular words of wisdom – only a warning."

Miles frowned. "And that is?"

The dragon's blank, metal eyes narrowed, as it growled two words: "Brace yourself."

Miles barely had a second to process the warning before its intent became clear. Pain slammed into his skull, making him topple to his knees. As the dragon leapt to Dave's finger and wrapped his tail around his finger once more, a scene unfolded before Miles's shut eyes:

A man with tangled blonde hair and a rawhide trench coat pulled a waterlogged volume off the stone floor, brushing the excess off as he frowned, disappointed.

"Hi."

The man looked up to see a familiar sweatshirt-clad boy at the top of a set of iron stairs. "Hello," he greeted back.

"I'm sorry," Dave Stutler continued stiffly as he started down the stairs. "I think you and I need to have a talk."

"No apology necessary," the man replied softly. "Let us move on."

The boy gave a wry grin. "You're a diamond, mate."

But neither the grin nor the voice were true, and the older man knew it. His eyes darted to the boy's hand – black-polished nails, and no dragon ring. Not-Dave, seeing the look, clicked his tongue and smirked. "Aw." The disguise had been compromised, but before the older man could react, the boy cupped his hands and thrust forward a wave of magic, sending the man flying into a huge copper wire plate. The man groaned as the wires wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, trapping him. As he looked up, Not-Dave's face shifted, replaced by another's – a handsome man with spiky, bleached blonde hair, which he quickly preened back into place with his fingers.

"Surprisingly well done," said a suave British voice. Another man, with oily black hair, moustache, and white coat, now strode down the stairs as though he owned the place. "Now," he said to the younger man, "go find the Grimhold."

Miles gasped as the vision dispersed. He found himself on the ground for the third time today, Dave and Merlin standing above him.

"Are-are you okay?" Dave asked, waving his hand in front of Miles' face. The dragon ring had coiled itself around Dave's finger once again.

Miles' eyes darted up to the college student. "We have got to stop meeting like this."

Dave glared. "Seriously, dude, we've had enough scares today. Just tell us what happened."

Miles sighed. "Your master, Balthazar, does he have scraggly blonde hair and an ancient-looking trench coat?"

Dave glanced at Merlin, who looked just as confused as he felt. He turned back to Miles. "How did you know that?"

Miles raised himself onto his elbows. He hesitated - he hadn't wanted to tell them about the other part of his power. But a man's life was at stake, possibly the world's. So, he braced himself and said, "I saw him. And he's about to be in some serious trouble."

Chapter Text

Part 7: The Vision

Originally published August 2014

Dave stared at Miles. "You 'saw' him?" he repeated, utilizing air quotes. "What do you mean you 'saw' him? You've never met him."

Miles stiffened, avoiding their questioning gazes. A few weeks ago, admitting his ability to near strangers would have been his greatest fear. Things had changed since then (mainly that the visions were no longer his biggest secret), but his hands still felt clammy at the thought of telling anyone. "Well, it's...you see, I can..."

"You're a seer."

Miles's eyes darted to the warlock. He winced at the gaunt look Merlin was giving him, but he admitted, "The common term these days is 'psychic.'"

"You see the future?" Dave cried. "How long has this been going on?"

Miles snorted. "Geez, you make it sound like I'm having an affair." More seriously, he said, "I've been seeing flashes of the future for as long as I can remember. They've been more frequent recently, though. Along with the delightful headaches." He sighed, rubbing his throbbing temple.

Merlin helped the boy up and led him to the couch, letting him settle his head on the cushions. Merlin had experienced the pain of future-gazing, and it was enough to make him never wish it on anyone. To go through that all the time? He shuddered to think.

Dave fetched Miles a bag of ice (since he had thrown his only ice pack to the floor during his freak out). He handed it to Miles, and once the psychic was comfortable, Dave asked, "Are-are you sure that it was a vision, not just a-a hallucination from low blood sugar or something?"

Considering how hard it was for him to admit he had visions at all, he couldn't help but seethe at the accusation. He sat up, holding the ice to his head. "Look, I admit I don't know a lot about magic. It's not like I have a master to teach me," he said, with a pointed look at Dave. "But, I've had visions my whole life, so I think I know the difference between a vision and a hallucination, thank you." He leaned back. Miles would have thought someone who had been called crazy would understand.

Dave retreated a step. "Okay! Sheesh, sorry." He took a deep breath, then asked what was really on his mind. "You said you saw Balthazar. That he was in danger. So, what happened?"

Miles nodded, glad that Dave believed him. "He was – "

"Wait!" Merlin interrupted, suddenly tense.

The other two stared at him. "What?" Miles asked.

The warlock let out a shaky breath. "What if telling us causes the vision to happen? Or what you think you saw isn't what really happened?" Merlin glanced down. "I've seen terrible things come of that." Weeks ago, he'd glimpsed the future in the Crystal Caves, and in trying to stop what he thought he saw from happening, he'd made something worse happen: Morgana had discovered that she had a right to the throne of Camelot. It was only a matter of time before she used that nugget of information to take action.

Miles scanned Merlin up and down. 'So he does get visions.' In many legends, Merlin was said to be a psychic/seer, but Miles was already questioning everything he knew about Merlin . "Look, I get that. It's not like I've never caused my visions to happen. But they're pretty straightforward, and it won't be long before the vision comes to pass. Trust me, we're going to want to act on this one."

"And by 'not too long,' you mean...?"

Miles shrugged. "It could be anywhere from a few minutes to a few days from now. Clocks and newspapers don't exactly tend to show up in my visions. My record has been two weeks, but this didn't feel like that kind of vision."

Merlin hesitated, but nodded to proceed. Miles had more experience seeing the future than he did. Maybe this vision would be helpful rather than harmful.

.

Miles turned to Dave. "So, Balthazar was cleaning up something when Dave appeared at the top of the stairs. Except, it turned out not to be Dave, since the guy trapped Balthazar, and then his face sort of shifted into someone else's."

"What'd this guy look like?" Dave asked.

Miles skewed his eyes shut, trying to remember. "He was... blonde. And goth."

Dave groaned, knowing who it must be. "Seriously? That pretentious jerkwad was able to impersonate me?!"

Miles winced, the shout sending a twinge of pain through his cranium. "If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't a great impersonation. Balthazar caught on pretty quickly."

Dave smirked. "Hah!"

"Who is he?" Merlin asked.

"His name is Drake Stone, a Morganian sorcerer."

Miles recognized the name. "As in the TV magician who has his own Magic: The Gathering card? He's evil?" Somehow, he was not that surprised.

Once his annoyance faded, Dave wondered how Drake had found Balthazar. "Can you describe where they were?"

Miles tried to remember. "It was... this round, stone room. There were wet papers all over the place... and... there was this weird etching in the floor. A circle with a bunch of symbols inside."

Dave felt queasy. "Oh no. Oh man, oh man, oh man!" He raked a hand through his hair, his stomach sinking. "The Morganians found my lab!"

Miles raised an eyebrow. "You have a lab?"

"I'm a physics major," Dave explained. He scratched the back of his head. "My experiments are a bit too dangerous for the student labs, so my professor called in a favor, hooked me up with this old subway turnaround. Then Balthazar turned it into a practice space for sorcery, since it was under the radar."

"Science and magic in the same place? That's ironic."

"According to Balthazar, they're the same thing."

Merlin chuckled. "I know someone who would disagree with that." Then again, said "someone" had let him use his infirmary to practice forbidden incantations, and had once been a sorcerer himself.

Dave sighed. "Anyway, the Morganians didn't know about it, so we kept the Grimhold there."

"If what Miles saw is true, then it won't be safe much longer." Merlin turned to Miles. "Did anything else happen?"

Miles nodded. "An older man came in, told Drake to look for the Grimhold. That's when I woke up."

Dave knew the older man must be Horvath, and that was bad news for Balthazar. Drake might be powerful enough to trap the old sorcerer, but he would never take him on alone. If Horvath was there, however, Balthazar could be in serious trouble.

"Well," Merlin said, clearing his throat. "As you said, it might be a few days yet."

Dave groaned, "No. It won't. If the lab was still wet from earlier, it's got to happen tonight."

"And something tells me a thousand-year-old sorcerer isn't gonna own a cell phone," Miles muttered.

"I still don't know what that is, but are you suggesting we go over and warn the man? Try to stop this from happening?" Merlin asked, doubtful.

Miles sighed. "No, we can't stop it from happening. Whether we like it or not, the vision will come to pass." He steeled himself, looking between them. "But the outcome, we can change. I didn't see the Morganians take the Grimhold, so we can go over there and keep it away from them."

Dave blanched. "Y-you want me to go back there?!"

"Isn't it your place?" Merlin asked.

"I – well, yes, but I can't go back there right now!"

"Why not?"

Dave cringed. He was tempted to lie to them; say he was feeling ill, or the subways were flooded, anything but what had actually happened. But Dave had tried to lie to his predecessor before and it had blown up in his face. He wasn't risking Merlin's wrath again, so, hesitant, he mumbled, "I may have... magically flooded my lab. And had a fight with Balthazar. And quit magic."

.

If they were not already seated, Miles and Merlin would have promptly dropped onto the couch. "You... you quit magic?" Merlin asked, in a whisper.

"Seriously?" Miles added. But as he said it, he realized it had been obvious all along. Soon after they'd met, Dave had said, "I'm a sorcerer... Or at least, I was learning to be one." "Was," as in past tense.

Merlin had practically breathed magic his whole life. In contrast, Miles had only embraced its existence, let alone that he had any, mere weeks before. Yet neither could imagine a life without it.

Merlin sat up. "But if you're supposed to defeat Morgana, you can't just quit."

"Yeah," Miles added, "that'd be like Harry Potter dropping out of Hogwarts and going back to live with the Dursleys!"

Dave's gaze hardened. "Did Harry Potter have a prophecy hanging over his head, a dragon who nearly turned him to bacon, a batty old sorcerer as a teacher, and a crazy powerful witch to beat?"

"Change 'witch' to 'wizard' and yeah, pretty much."

Dave let his mouth open and close a few times before glaring at Miles. "Well, he's fictional, that doesn't count."

"Too bad, sounds like someone I'd relate to," Merlin muttered. He crossed his arms, gaze sharply aimed towards Dave. "Is this why you didn't mention Balthazar before? You were afraid to face him again?"

Dave gaped. "No! I-I-I'm not afraid to face him! I'm mad at him."

"But you're the one who flooded your own lab," Miles chided.

Dave cried, "And he's the one who has made my life a living hell since I was ten!"

"Is this about that 'ten years in a magic urn' thing you mentioned before?"

Dave shook his head. "You don't want to know."

Miles leaned forward, as did Merlin. "No, actually, we do. And you kind of owe us for dragging us here in the first place."

.

Dave sighed, leaning against the edge of the kitchen table. He didn't want to tell this story. Like, at all. But how else could he make them understand? So, he began, "Ten years ago, I was on a field trip in the city."

Dave took a moment to fill Merlin in on what a field trip was, which lead to having to explain what a school was. Merlin was quite impressed that everyone had access to education in such a way.

Miles couldn't help thinking that if Merlin had experienced high school, he wouldn't be so impressed.

"Anyway," Dave continued, "This super important note blew out of my hands, and I ran after it." A note from Becky Barnes on whether she wanted to go out with him, to be precise. "Teacher was distracted, so she didn't notice right away."

"They took a bunch of ten-year-olds into New York City with only one teacher to supervise?" Miles remarked, skeptical.

Dave's eyes were drawn to the window. The view was obscured, but he could still make out the lights of the city. "It was before 9/11," he said in a low voice. "Things were different then."

Merlin almost asked what Dave meant, but his look and Miles's shiver changed his mind.

His gaze shifted away from the window. "So I ran and ran, and the note flew into this curio shop. And, stupid kid that I was, I went in. That was mistake number one." He bowed his head. "That was when I met Balthazar Blake."

"He was in the shop?" Merlin asked.

"He owned the shop," Dave said. "I guess even centuries-old sorcerers need to pay rent. Anyway, he creeped me out, shut the door on me when I tried to leave, and took out Mr. Dragon over here," he gestured to the ring, its emerald catching the light. "He told me, 'If it likes you, you can keep it.'" He shrugged. "I had no idea what that meant. If I had, I would have forced my way out, believe me. But I was ten, I was trapped, and..." he paused, not wanting to admit it. "...Maybe I was intrigued. Maybe. So I held out my hand and took the dragon. That was mistake number two." He gestured to the ring again. "I think you know what happened next."

Miles and Merlin shared a look. "What was mistake number three?" Merlin asked.

Dave glanced away, twiddling his thumbs innocently. "I may have... touched the Grimhold and let out Morgana's top sorcerer."

Their jaws dropped.

Dave scowled. "It's not my fault! It didn't exactly look like a prison for sorcerers. I have enough regret without you two adding to it."

"Why? What happened?" Merlin asked.

Dave bit his lip, the memory of fire, shattering glass, and flying swords making his stomach churn. So, he left it at this: "You remember the 'pulling a David Stutler' thing?"

Their eyes widened. "...Oh."

Dave squirmed. "Yeah. That's what happens when you get trapped in the middle of a magic duel, only for the proof to get sucked into a magic urn when you try to explain."

Miles swallowed. Dave's freak out suddenly made a lot more sense.

Dave pushed himself into standing position. "And while Balthazar chilled there for ten years with his arch nemesis, I had to put my life back together. I changed schools, survived middle school, and high school, and therapy, got into NYU on scholarship." He started pacing, hands flailing. "And just as things were getting good again, he comes back! Yeah, he saves my life, but does he even ask, 'Hi Dave, how have you been?' No! He just expects me to start magic training where we left off, after ten years of people telling me that what I saw was a hallucination! He wasn't even the one who told me about being the Prime Merlinean! Oh no, the bad guys let me in on that one!"

"Dave, you're ranting again – "

But Dave was on a roll. "He has embarrassed me, thrown plasma bolts at me, scared me half to death - these are not the kind of things a nice teacher does, okay? And he keeps saying he believes in me and my abilities, but it isn't really me he cares about, is it? I'm not Dave to him. I'm just the stupid Prime Merlinean!" He glared at them. "Well, I'm sorry, I tried, but it's not me! I'm not going back there just to get roped into this again."

Miles glared. "Weren't you the one who didn't want evil sorcerers taking over the world just fifteen minutes ago?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "That was different!"

Merlin stood up, his blue gaze cold. "So you're just going to let him die. Let Morgana be released and doom the world."

The anger visibly seeped out of Dave's body, causing him to sag. "I – no!" He sighed, staring down and sticking his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. "I don't want any of that. But even if I could go back there, it's not like I'd be of any use." He shrugged. "Believe me, Balthazar can handle those two, he doesn't… need me. If it wasn't for this ring, he wouldn't even want me." He pulled out a kitchen chair and sank onto it. He just wanted to crawl into bed and let this day be over.

Merlin's gaze softened. There were times he felt useless like that, those days when Arthur was at his worst or destiny really seemed to want to stick it to him. Kilgharrah had said that Dave's wish for understanding had brought them to this place and time. Perhaps he could help fulfill that. "Dave, I know this is difficult – "

Dave scoffed, "No, you don't."

"Pardon?"

Dave glared up at the warlock. "Do you even hear yourself? You're Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm aware that I'm Merlin. But I already told you, Dave, I'm not perfect."

"You're still the most powerful sorcerer ever!" He cried, flinging his arms wide. "You're still destined to help King Arthur bring about the Golden Age of Camelot! Me? I'm supposed to bring down an evil sorceress even you couldn't defeat. Look at me!" He cried, pressing his hands to his chest. "I'm a nervous wreck with about as much magical ability as Neville Longbottom! Yes," he glanced at Miles, "I remember that much about Harry Potter."

Miles wanted to point out that Neville was only terrible in the early books because he was using his father's wand, turning out to be quite the badass by the end, but decided maybe now wasn't the best time.

"Look, I appreciate the effort," Dave continued, "but let's not kid ourselves here. You have no idea what this is like. Hell, it's your fault I'm in this mess." He sighed, resting his head in his hands.

Miles's eyes fixed Merlin with a "well-what-do-we-do-now" look.

Merlin's eyebrows returned an "I-have-no-idea" look back. Then he focused on the young apprentice, limp in his chair. He could see a lot of himself in his successor, from his build to his tendency to rant (Gaius still liked to rib him about his "I don't have time to sit around and do nothing" episode). Yet, in that moment, Merlin was struck by a resemblance to Arthur. How many times had he come in to his master's chambers to see Arthur seated in the same position, his eyes far away as a failure weighed on his mind. Dave, like Arthur, seemed stuck in the idea that he had to do something perfectly or he was useless at it, and adding a destiny to save the world on top of that was not good for Dave. Merlin's heart ached for both of them.

'Destiny...'

Merlin started, and realized he'd had this conversation before!

And he knew exactly what to say.

Chapter Text

Part 8: The Sorcerer

Originally published October 2014

Merlin sat down, his gaze fixed on the college student, who stared down at the floor. Taking a moment to compose himself, he began, "My destiny must sound incredible to you. I can't blame you, being responsible for an age of peace and understanding sounds much less intimidating than being responsible for the safety of the entire world." A small smile touched his lips. "If I'm being honest, my future with Arthur has often been the thing that kept me going when things seemed hopeless." Then, the smile fell away. He shifted forward, prompting Dave to look up at him. "If there's one thing I know, however, it's that destinies, no matter what they are... are troublesome things." A part of him wanted to smirk, thinking of when he'd told Arthur the same thing. He glanced between Dave and Miles. "Exactly how much do you know about Camelot before King Arthur?"

"Different stories tell it different ways," Miles said. "The best known version says Arthur was hidden away right after his birth, but his father, King Uther, died soon after. The kingdom fell into despair with seemingly no heir to the throne."

Merlin chuckled darkly. "There are a lot of people who would have been happier at that turn of events."

"What do you mean?"

Merlin leaned back against the couch with a long sigh. Then, he wove for the boys the story of the Camelot he knew, the land where magic was banned under King Uther's delusions of its inherent wickedness. Then he told of the boy born of magic who, upon entering the gates of Camelot, saw someone like himself beheaded for public spectacle, leaving his mother in despair. The boy who discovered he, with his natural mastery, ought to be impossible.

He folded his hands in his lap, his eyes distant. "I felt lost. I thought I might be... a monster," Merlin concluded softly. "My magic is as natural to me as breathing, but what was the point if I couldn't use it?" Merlin let out a shaky breath. For all the trouble and heartache he'd had since coming to Camelot, he wouldn't go back to those early days for anything.

The boys were transfixed by the tale, so that when Merlin remained silent for more than ten seconds, Dave had to ask, "Then what?"

Merlin half-smiled. "You could say I made a friend, although we... well, we didn't exactly get along at first. Actually, he was a complete ass." He blinked. "That does mean the same thing now as it does in my time, right?"

"Oh yeah," Dave said, nodding.

Merlin continued, "He was a noble, you see, making his servant run around like a trained dog for target practice, and then laughing at him. I stood up to him, and he got me locked in the stocks." Merlin rolled his eyes. "The next day, we got into an actual fight that almost landed me in the dungeon, even though he was the one with the mace."

"Wow, the Dark Ages really were like high school," Miles muttered. He would have to let Allie know.

"As you can imagine," Merlin continued, "I wanted as little to do with this idiot as possible. But, fate had other plans. And it told me those plans in the form of a dragon."

Dave's eyes lit up as he tapped his ring. "This dragon?"

Miles suddenly realized. "That ban on magic included the dragons too, didn't it?"

Merlin's lips tightened in a thin line. "Kilgharrah was the only dragon kept alive after the Great Purge. He was captured and trapped under the castle, to make an example of King Uther's might."

Dave felt as if he'd been shoved in the chest, the ring cold on his finger. "Then how'd you find him?"

"I heard his voice in my mind, calling for me," Merlin said, "until I couldn't ignore it any longer." He shrugged. "When I found myself in this cavern under the castle with a dragon three times the size of this room, I didn't know what to expect. I certainly didn't expect him to tell me that I was meant protect the man who would bring peace and magic to the land of Albion." Merlin half-smiled. "Problem was, it was the same man I previously called an ass."

Miles almost knew what was coming, but he didn't want to hear it. "You're not saying this guy was..." He shook his head. "I mean you can't mean..."

"That Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, was a bully and the son of the man who banned magic?" The smirk faded from the warlock's face. "You can understand how I felt."

Miles swayed like he'd been cracked over the head with a glass bottle.

Dave held up his hands. "No, no, that can't be right. This guy sounds the same age as you."

Merlin frowned. "Well, Arthur is the same age as me. Actually, he's nearly four years older."

Dave let that sink in. "That's... completely messed up."

"Yeah, we passed 'messed up' about five exits back," Miles remarked.

"Why is our age a big deal?" Merlin asked.

"You're supposed to be the older one, for one thing!" Dave cried. "Like, with the long white beard and all that!"

Miles nodded vigorously.

Merlin unconsciously stroked his chin, thinking of the Dragoon disguise. The old man with the long white beard was supposed to be his 80-year-old self, but how did that version become the famous one? "Well, obviously someone made a mistake, but that's not important right now."

Merlin continued with his story, how he had been dead set against the idea of a destiny entwined with Arthur's. But at the royal feast the next night, he had found that resolve challenged, as he'd witnessed a sorceress in disguise bewitch the guests with a song that put them in a deep slumber. Merlin had sensed the tremor of magic in the song and covered his ears before he could be ensnared, but his caretaker and new friend, Gwen, were. Merlin had to stop the spell, so he had reached out with his magic and dropped the chandelier on her, revealing the imposter to be the bereaved mother.

And then, she'd thrown her dagger at Arthur.

Merlin paused as the moment played before his eyes. "Something just... clicked inside me," he recalled in a low voice. "It was like everything that had mattered to me before faded away." He shook his head. He had never truly been able to articulate the sensation before. "It didn't matter what Arthur or his father had done. It didn't matter that I felt horrible for the woman. It didn't even matter that I could get killed. All I knew was I could save him. I had to." A small smile played on his lips as his magic trilled inside him. "For the first time in my life, I felt whole." He frowned. "Of course, that split second of happiness was crushed a second later when I was made Arthur's manservant."

"...His what?!" Dave and Miles exclaimed.

Merlin chuckled. "Uther thought I ought to be rewarded for saving his son's life, and what greater reward than serving his royal pratness?" he said mockingly. "At the time I was horrified; now I just find it amusing."

"Yeah, but you said you're his friend, not his servant," Miles cried.

"Plus, he sounds like a terrible person," Dave added.

"Well I wouldn't be his friend if I wasn't his servant first," Merlin said to Miles. "It was really the only way I could get to know him, considering he's a prince. Don't forget, if I hadn't picked that fight with him, he would never have given me a passing glance." Then he looked down at his hands. "Look, I'm not going to say he magically changed overnight. Arthur can still be condescending, very overbearing, terribly thick, even cruel at times. And I still call him out on that." He looked Dave in the eye. "But he has his own battles to fight. With a father like his, and the future of the whole kingdom resting on his shoulders, he feels he cannot show even the slightest weakness, or he will let everyone down."

Dave's lip curled. That sounded familiar.

Merlin rose from his seat, standing tall by the window. "With guidance and the chance to act on his own principles, Arthur is a good man, and a good friend. In time, he will be a great king, and I intend to be at his side when that happens." His eyes seemed to glint like fire. "I've realized that I may be acting on a destiny I never wanted, but it is my choice to do so. For all their faults, Arthur is my brother, and Camelot is my home." He put a hand to his chest. "And they're worth fighting for."

Dave's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You tell me."

Dave wagged his finger at Merlin. "No, no, no, I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me feel guilty. You're just like Balthazar, saying I should give up my life and my friends to serve the higher cause."

Merlin folded his arms, eyes stern. "No. I'm trying to say that Balthazar, like Arthur, may seem harsh, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about you, or that he doesn't need you. He's carrying as big a burden as you, and he's had to carry it for centuries." He sighed. "I think he's more afraid of failing you than you are of failing him."

Dave jolted. "I told you, I-I-I'm not – " He swallowed, his hands shaking. "Okay, yes, I don't want to face him again. But I...I didn't..." His voice broke.

Merlin placed his hands on Dave's shoulders. "I know you never asked for this. And I know you think you can't protect anyone. I've felt that way about my destiny. But that sorceress attacked Arthur and the kingdom because she was trying to hurt the king. So it is with all who hurt others. However small or well-intentioned their plans, there will always be innocents hurt." A dark look crossed the young warlock's face. "You think if you face Morgana, she'll kill you and that will be it. But if I know Morgana, she might not kill you at all – she might try to turn you to her side first."

Dave gaped. He hadn't even thought of that possibility.

"But if you allow Morgana to complete this spell?" His gaze darkened. "It will kill everyone you care about. If they don't have magic, they are nothing to her." Merlin's voice shook at those words, thinking of the old Morgana who would never have done such things.

Dave clenched his eyes shut. He thought of his mother in their apartment in Brooklyn. He thought of Bennet, his lab buddies, his few high school friends. He thought of Becky, and her smile, and her faith in him.

"I'm not trying to say this to make you feel bad," Merlin said softly. "But if you do nothing, there will be a cost." He tapped the ring. "You have been given the power to stop her, just as I was given the power to save Arthur. Respect that power. Use it for good."

Dave sighed. "I told you, I'm not powerful. "

Merlin smirked. "Dave, I don't think a subpar sorcerer could have flooded his own lab. That denotes a lack of concentration, not a lack of power."

"I was concentrating!"

"For the full duration of the spell?"

Dave stopped. Actually, he'd left the room to shower, at which point the spell had gotten out of control. Much as he hated to admit it, perhaps Merlin was right. But there was one thing still bothering him. He was afraid to say it aloud, but the words burst from his lips before he could stop: "What if I fail?"

Merlin became quiet, looking at the ground. "Dave... I won't lie," he said slowly. "There are times I have... failed. Or when the price of success meant losing someone." He paused, ghostly faces rising to the front of of his consciousness. "I watched an old friend die because I wasn't fast enough. I lost a girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with because I couldn't get to her in time. I even..." He swallowed hard. "...I even lost my own father. And I barely got to know him." He took a moment to collect himself, then said, "But we can't let fear or past failure define us, or we could lose the future." He gripped Dave's shoulders, his eyes bright. "I hope you never go through that kind of loss. But, whatever happens, you honor all who believed in you and who still believe in you, by fighting until the end."

Dave stared at Merlin, at the shadows under his eyes, the clenched jaw, the creased brow. Suddenly, he didn't seem like Merlin, the sorcerer, the prodigy, his ancestor. He was just a man burdened with a destiny, determined to make sure it all turned out for the best.

"Dave, I trust in your destiny." Merlin stood and took a step back. "The question is, do you?"

The lights flickered as all eyes in the room gazed at the Prime Merlinean (even Tank, at the foot of his master's chair, glanced up with a whine). Dave sat silent, his mind churning. He stared at the dragon ring. He thought of Balthazar. He thought of Becky. Then he looked up at Merlin.

*.*.*.*

Balthazar Blake, Sorcerer of the 777th Degree, had been in some sticky situations before. He'd been trapped in an urn for ten years, along with mirrors, monsoons, and deep pits full of poisonous snakes. He'd survived the Salem Witch Trials, the French Revolution, even JFK Airport on the day the Beatles landed in America (he still heard the high-pitched screams in his nightmares, sometimes).

But since he was trapped, the Merlineans' one last hope had given up, and his long-time nemesis now held the key to the world's destruction in his hand, Balthazar would have to say the situation was... not good.

"It's lighter than I remember," Maxim Horvath remarked, a sneer at the edge of his lips as he tested the nesting doll/prison in his hand. He glanced up at Balthazar, black eyes glittering in triumph.

Balthazar had to try, just one more time, to reach out for his former friend. "We once fought together, Maxim," he said in a low voice.

The Morganian's gaze hardened, his humor falling away. "A lot's happened since those days."

Understatement of the millenium. "This isn't about that!" he pleaded.

"Oh yes, Balthazar," Maxim snarled, his fingers wound tight around his cane. "It's always been about that. Veronica chose you, instead of me. The great Balthazar Blake!" he spat. "My best friend."

Balthazar's eyes narrowed. What he wanted to say was, 'Key words there, Max:"Veronica chose." Not you or me. All I did was what you should have done – tried to make her happy. Instead, you got her trapped. And Merlin killed.' But, he had to let Maxim have his moment.

"Well," Horvath growled, taking a few step back, "I'm going to release Morgana... let you watch your world crumble into nothing!" He turned his back on his prey.

But what Horvath had forgotten was that if Balthazar Blake was anything, he was stubborn. And the only reason the metal bands still held him to that plate was because he had let them.

With a wrist twist and a tug, the flash-frozen metal shattered around his right wrist. Horvath swivelled around just in time to see Balthazar blast him across the floor with a plasma bolt. He pulled himself loose and landed easily, but Horvath's apprentice was quick to shoot back at Balthazar, pushing him into the plate so hard he fell to the floor, ears ringing. He was so focused on knocking the apprentice back that he didn't see Horvath recover. He didn't see him rise from the ground, or flick his coat open. But he did see the wave of Horvath's cane that sent a barrage of knives flying right towards his head. Balthazar, on reflex, turned his cheek, muscles tightened and eyes clenched shut in preparation of …

Nothing?

He opened his eyes, saw the knives stopped in the air, and looked up.

David Stutler stood at the top of the landing, one hand clenched around the banister as as he used the other to aim his time-freeze spell at the knives, the dragon ring shining bright green. He was trembling from the effort of the spell, but that didn't matter. For Dave, nothing else mattered in this moment except saving his master.

His friend.

The knives dropped and clattered to the ground as Balthazar breathed a sigh of relief. Horvath and Drake dashed away as Dave rushed down the stairs and pulled his master to his feet.

"Nice catch," Balthazar said, breathless. What he meant to say was, 'Thank you. And did you get a lot better all of a sudden?'

"Figured I owed you one," Dave replied with a shrug, eyes pleading, 'I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?'

"They got the doll." Which meant, 'Of course I do. But, are you in for the long haul?'

Dave raised his chin. "Let's get it back."

As the master and apprentice (and dog, as Tank trailed after his master) raced out to chase after the Morganians, Miles and Merlin watched from the shadows. Merlin beamed. "I knew he had it in him."

Chapter Text

Part 9: Story Time

Originally published March 2015

When the last echoes of footsteps faded, Miles and Merlin crept out from their hiding place.

"I feel bad not going with them," Merlin muttered.

Miles gave him a half-lidded glare. "Did you want to explain to your apprentice how it is you came back from the dead?" he drawled.

Merlin squirmed. "...No."

"Well, there you go then."

So slowly they made their way down the catwalk towards the staircase, getting a good look at the underground lab for the first time. It was a cavernous space, framed by tall archways of parchment-colored brick. The three poles wrapped in copper wire that stood between the archways popped out immediately – Miles, open-mouthed, recognized them as tesla coils. Other bits of Dave's work were strewn along the peripheries of the room, in machine parts, a generator, a wire plate, loose papers, crates, half-melted candles, and mismatched chairs. But the center of the room was completely clear, revealing a set of tracks that ran through the middle of the room, remnants of its past as a subway turnaround.

"You wouldn't know this place was flooded hours ago," Miles commented, though upon sniffing the air he caught a hint of lemon cleaning fluid.

Merlin stretched his arms as they reached the landing, feeling his body, his mind, and even his magic unwind. He felt comfortable here, more than he had in the apartment. He supposed it was because they stood underground now, rooted in the earth, and the space buzzed with multiple energies that hummed in tune with his own. His magic still felt on edge, but the little relief was not unappreciated.

Miles smiled, rolling his shoulders as he took in the same vibe. "Yeah, it's good to relax after all we just went through. Were you overwhelmed out there?" Though Miles and Dave had shuddered at the thought of bringing the medieval warlock through Manhattan, Merlin had insisted on coming with them. And he was quite persuasive.

"This eyewear helped," Merlin replied, unclipping the sunglasses from the front of his shirt and handing them to Miles. "But, I did not like riding in that sticky, lurching contraption."

"You mean the taxi?" Miles asked, suppressing a laugh. He hadn't loved the ride either, but at least he'd known what to expect.

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, his stomach churning at the memory of the ride. "All that noise and light, how does anyone sleep in this city?"

"Pills." Miles wrinkled his nose as he pocketed the glasses. "I was more stunned by the smells!"

"Really? I didn't notice anything."

Miles recalled a lesson on the sewage system in Camelot from his European History class. He shuddered. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't."

As Merlin stepped towards the center, he felt something under his feet. But not a physical something. He looked down to see the pattern carved in the stone floor – a large circle encasing six smaller circles, each inscribed with a symbol. "Hullo," he murmured, bending down. "What have we here?" As his fingers grazed the circle, his magic suddenly flowed out of him – not an uncontrolled surge, as before, but gentle and easy flowing, like water. He almost didn't notice the circle itself burst into flames.

But Miles did. Even as he felt the shift of magic moments before, the flames caused him to jump back, grabbing the pen in his pocket. But after the initial shock wore off, he pocketed it again, staring in awe. "Whoa."

"You said it," Merlin said softly, drawing himself upright. He stepped into the circle, deftly moving between the smaller circles into the center before turning towards Miles. "I think it's some kind of focus for magic."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He stared down at his hands. "My magic doesn't feel so unstable anymore."

Miles tilted his head. "Huh." An already curious person (it was why he was such a good student), the added inkling that he should know what the circle did made his urge to do research even stronger. Glancing around, Miles spotted a large book set haphazardly on the worktable, its brown leather embossed with gold. 'The book from my vision!' he realized. He darted towards it and pulled it open, a waft of a sweet, musty smell emitting from the yellowed pages. "Tell me there's an index in this thing," he muttered, handling the pages carefully as he flipped towards the back.

"What are you doing?" Merlin called as he tentatively touched a smaller circle with his foot. It promptly lit with unnaturally yellow flames.

Miles glanced over his shoulder. "I want to find out what it is. This seems to be their magic compendium, so if the information is anywhere, it's in here."

Merlin smiled as he tapped another circle with his foot, which burned a rich magenta. "Amazing how often it comes down to having the right books." Watching another circle blaze deep red, he continued, "I can't begin to tell you how many times saving Camelot just meant a whole lot of reading. I've woken up with books plastered to my face."

Miles scoffed. "That sounds like a typical night for me. But you're right. If it wasn't for a book, I wouldn't know anything about magic." He sighed. "That, and a few people I know would be hurting pretty badly right now."

Merlin promptly turned from the circle of purple flames. "What do you mean?"

Miles paused. Somehow, it had slipped his mind just who he'd been talking to. "It's nothing," he mumbled, hunching over the book.

Now Merlin scoffed. "Come on, I've aired my tragic past." More seriously, he said, "I'm guessing there's not a whole lot of people you can talk to about this, either. I know I can't. Nor can Dave. Venting might do you some good."

The honors student bit his lip, ignoring the anxiety coursing through his veins. "Let me find this first."

Merlin's perception drifted back to the circle, tapping into the magic he was sensing. "Whatever it is, the charm to make it is immensely intricate, but quite brilliant. I wonder who came up with this?"

Miles paused, finally resting on a page. "Actually... you did."

Merlin stared up at him, mouth agape. "You're joking."

Cradling the book in his arms, Miles turned to him. "No, seriously!" he said. "It says right here, it's called the Merlin Circle! Helps fledgling sorcerers learn to harness magic."

Merlin sped towards him, the flames dissipating as he exited the circle. Peering over Miles's shoulder, his eyes widened. "That's my name! In a book!"

"Your name's in a lot more books than this," Miles replied. "Believe me."

"Well, it's the first time I've ever seen it," Merlin countered. He reached over and turned a few pages. "I'd never even seen a real book before I came to Camelot." He sighed. "Boy, when Dave said I founded a whole order of magic, he wasn't exaggerating."

"Which you wouldn't expect from him," Miles added.

"I wonder..." Merlin murmured, as he flipped a few more pages. Then he stopped, and stared.

A full-body, watercolor portrait of his Dragoon persona had a page all to itself. However, instead of Gaius's hand-me-downs, the figure wore majestic dark blue robes with white trim, a staff raised above his head as lightning pierced the sky behind him. The caption beneath read, "Merlin Emrys: Founder of the Merlinean Order, Court Sorcerer of Camelot."

"Nice portrait," Miles remarked. He peered at Merlin out the corner of his eye. "You okay?"

Merlin took a deep breath, hands pressed to the table. "Yes, fine, just... it's one thing to hear about a great destiny; it's another thing to see it in front of you."

Miles nodded, staring at the picture again. "Yeah. I get that."

Merlin traced his finger over the caption, a smile on the edge of his lips. "I was starting to believe I would never see these words."

"Why?" Miles asked. "I thought it was your destiny to bring magic back to Camelot?"

"Easier said than done," Merlin scoffed. "Even if the laws against magic are lifted, I figured I would be better off staying in the shadows. That way, Arthur would never know that I..." Merlin swallowed, and looked away from the image of the familiar stranger. "Well, clearly I was mistaken," he mumbled. "Not that I'll remember once I'm back in my own time."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

He exhaled. "I honestly don't know."

A question burned on the tip of the student's tongue, but he hesitated. Now that the Once and Future King had been brought up again, it seemed appropriate, but... it was a particularly sensitive question. Then again, when else would he have the opportunity? "So, I was wondering," he began, leaning against the table. "You and Arthur..."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "What about me and Arthur?"

"Well how much does he know about... about you? How much have you told him?"

Merlin feigned a thoughtful look. "Oh let's see, I think it went something like this: 'Hey Arthur, what would you say if I told you I've been doing magic behind your back since the day we met?' 'Well, Merlin, I would probably turn you over to my father and watch you burn to death. Now polish my armor and stop talking nonsense.'" Merlin rolled his eyes.

Miles cringed. Boy, did that sound like something Miles himself would say. "Does he really agree with his father that much?" he asked softly.

Suddenly, the warlock looked much older than his years, his eyes distant. No, not distant – they were tired.

He paused, then shut the book and looked straight at Miles. "I wouldn't have stood by him this long if he did." He placed the book back on the table. "But as I said, it has not been easy." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I've seen him consider that his father could be wrong. That magic could be good, or at least not always harmful."

"But?"

Merlin stopped drumming. How could he possibly explain the years of secret plots, maniacal sorcerers, and overall complications that played a part in his friendship with Arthur (not to mention everyone else he knew)?

Then, it came to him.

Merlin gave a long exhale, then began: "A little over a year ago, a sorceress told Arthur she could summon the spirit of his mother."

Miles's eyes widened as he remembered what Merlin had told them earlier. "Who died giving birth to him, which started the Purge."

Merlin nodded. "He actually started to believe that magic could be used for good. I think that's what she wanted. But it wasn't all she wanted." Merlin lowered his head. "To this day, I don't know if that really was Arthur's mother, or if Morgause manipulated it somehow. But the woman conjured before us told Arthur that his mother's death was his father's fault. That he willingly sacrificed her in order to get a son by magic. Arthur was so enraged, I found him with his sword pointed at his father's throat." Merlin's knuckles, gripping the edge of the table, had turned white.

After a long moment, Miles had to ask: "But Uther, he didn't. Did he?"

Merlin gazed at the ceiling. "Arthur was born of magic and Igraine's life was taken in order to keep the balance in check, that is true enough. But..." He pursed his lips. "Uther Pendragon may be a lot of things, but he loved his wife. Maybe too much." Shifting, he cleared his throat. "The only way I could convince Arthur not to murder his own father was to tell him it was all a lie. Even the fact that he was born of magic. In doing so, I made it his enemy once again." He looked at Miles. "And that is only one of a thousand reasons why I haven't told Arthur yet."

Miles paused, lowering his eyes. "You must have wondered what it would be like, though. If he knew."

"Of course I have, hundreds of times. I've even dropped hints. But it's not the right time."

Miles fixed him with a steady look. "You really think he'd tell his father?"

"I... don't know."

He thought of Allie. "But he's your friend, right?" he said in a low voice.

Merlin shook his head. "That only makes it worse. Arthur values loyalty and honesty in his friends. If he knew about my magic, let alone everything else I've been keeping from him, he'd feel betrayed. Look what he almost did to Uther."

"Yeah, but with you it's different," Miles argued. "You've been protecting him ever since the day you met. Even if he reacts badly at first, he'll come around. I mean, he'll have to if this," he gestured to the book, "is any indication."

Merlin squirmed at the thought. "Maybe. Truth is, I'm not so concerned with what happens to me anymore. I don't want to, but I'll deal with it when the time comes. I'm more afraid of what will happen to him – to us – when he finds out."

Miles crossed his arms. "What do you mean?"

Merlin paused, then turned to reopen the book to his portrait. "This man?" he said, pointing at the picture. "You wouldn't call him an idiotic servant. This is a man with the power to bend wills, to twist the very laws of nature." He looked back at Miles. "But that's not how Arthur sees me." He shuffled his feet, hunching his shoulders. "It's not... a lie, exactly. I play up any foolishness because that's what Arthur's comfortable with. He takes himself so seriously, he needs someone to lighten his load. Someone who can mock him when he deserves it, but who will stand by him no matter what." He sat down on the floor, curling his knees into his chest. "Once I tell him, that will change. He'll have a terrible choice – his friend or his father. And he'll never trust me the same way again." As Miles sat on the floor beside him, his mind drifted back to his encounter with Cornelius Sigan. "A sorcerer once tempted me with promises of greatness and respect. That with him, I wouldn't have to hide my magic, and Arthur would know me for who I am. But he would also fear me." Merlin's eyes darkened. "I don't want that. I'd rather clean his armor for the rest of my life than see him afraid of me."

"Yeah... I definitely get that," Miles said, solemn. "But, maybe you could make him less afraid."

Merlin let his head rest against the edge of the table. "Believe me, I'd love to. But it's like..." He trailed off, trying to think how to describe it. Then, he had a better idea.

The warlock whispered an incantation into the palm of his hand, then unfurled his fingers to show the flames crackling on his palm. Miles gasped, then closed his mouth, flushing red. Merlin, eyes fading from gold to blue, chuckled gently, then glanced at the fire. "Fire, like magic, isn't always something to be feared. It can give life as much as take it, inspire awe as much as fear. But when you know something can hurt you, you'll always worry that it will." He glanced at Miles. "Even you and Dave do that, and you're sorcerers yourselves."

Miles shrank from the warlock's gaze. "Sorry."

Merlin gave a tremulous smile. "I don't blame you. But it proves my point." With a rueful look, he closed his fist to extinguish the flame. "As much as I wish things were different between Arthur and me, I'm too afraid to risk losing what we have. Arthur will one day accept magic in his kingdom. If I didn't know it before, I know it now." He clenched his eyes shut. "But I'm not sure he'll ever truly accept mine, no matter what that book says."

Miles sighed. He didn't know how to properly gestate all of that. So much of it made sense. He just wished it didn't.

Trying to diffuse the somber mood, Merlin wryly said, "Any particular reason you're asking me all these personal questions?"

Miles tensed. Still, he supposed he could tell him something. After all, Merlin was right – who else did he have to tell? "I guess the best way to put it is, I want to understand."

"Understand?"

Miles shrugged. "Understand why the Arthur you know is so different from the one I know... from the legends, that is. And also..." He trailed off, feeling a lump in his throat. But he curled his fingers into fists. If Merlin and Dave could do this, so could he. "You said you wanted my story. Really, it's not so different from yours," he began in a low voice, lacing his fingers together. "I was born with a gift that I had to hide for as long as I could remember. My mom had to raise me mostly on her own, though her parents and my dad's parents did what they could, and she was so afraid that I would be taken away from her if too many people knew. Between that and my intelligence, I thought it was better to keep to myself. I committed myself fully to schoolwork, and read anything I could get my hands on."

"Like Harry Potter?"

A big smile lit up his face. "Exactly! Books like that were pretty much my best friends. In books, it's okay to be smart. It's okay to be different." Then, Merlin watched the smile falter. "But, I didn't have any real friends. I made enough acquaintances to get by, avoided the bullies as best I could. But I never let anyone in."

Merlin hummed. His own childhood had been rather lonesome, though at least he'd had Will.

"When I got to high school," Miles continued, "things got harder."

"Why?"

Miles fixed him with a look. "Let me put it this way: you think your time is a period of ignorance, suffering, and humiliation? High school is basically the same thing, only with moody 14- to 18-year-olds crammed with overworked teachers in a single building."

Merlin grimaced. "That sounds... kind of awful."

The honors student sighed. "You have no idea." He leaned back on his hands. "Still, I worked hard and dreamed of the day I could leave for college. And I was determined to do it alone." A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "Then, about a month ago, Allie Pennington showed up and insisted on being my friend. We were assigned for a project together, so I couldn't stay away from her completely." He shook his head, amused. "The harder I tried to push her away, the more she sought me out. She saw my tactics for what they were – weak defenses, insecurities. She even got me to go to a jock party, which I swore I would never do!"

"Jock party?"

"Jocks are basically like knights, only without the chainmail."

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "Ah." Then, he grinned. "Still, I like this girl. Reminds me a bit of me with Arthur."

Miles blinked. "That's...ironic. Actually, I see Allie as similar to Arthur in a lot of ways. She can be stubborn, proud, overbearing when she thinks she's right," he drawled, rolling his eyes. Then he sobered. "But in the end, she's incredibly brave, and loyal, and fair. And a really good friend."

Merlin smiled. It did sound a lot like Arthur.

"Anyway," Miles continued, "as much as I grew to like her company, there was a problem. The more she hung around me, the more she noticed when I had visions around her, or when I knew something I shouldn't." He ran a hand through his hair. "Aaaand it didn't help that I was really bad at covering it up." He cleared his throat. "But, I clung to my secret nonetheless. So one night, I went over to her house because I had a vision that she was going to need my help. And this time, she didn't accept my excuse..."

*.*.*.*.*.*

"You need help." That was all he said as he parked his bike and unclipped his helmet. He was usually more prepared, but this vision hadn't been as trivial as a loose shoelace or a stubbed toe. And something deep in his bones told him she needed to know tonight, so he'd hopped on his bike without another thought.

He regretted that now as Allie rose from the deck chair. "How do you know I need help?" she asked coolly.

"I just know, okay?" he replied as he placed his helmet on the chair. "Isn't that enough?"

She set her jaw. "No."

He jolted upright.

"Actually, it's not enough."

Miles stared at her, feeling as though his insides had shrivelled up. She couldn't have caught on... could she? She wasn't nearly clever enough to put it together.

But, oh, she had. She ticked off every single time he'd had a vision around her, each causing the knot in his stomach to tighten. She had even noticed the one at the football game! Jaw clenched, he glanced away to hide the tension that spread like prickles of heat across his skin.

And then came the moment Miles had been dreading: Allie shrugged and said, almost teasing, "What are you, psychic or something?"

Miles felt as though he'd been hit by a bodybind hex. He even wanted to hit the floor, but somehow he stood. It seemed like such a silly little word, that denoted overdramatic ladies in shawls looking into crystal balls. But to Miles, "psychic" made him different. "Psychic" made him a freak. He should have called the idea ridiculous, but what slipped out was: "Don'tsaythatword,Allie."

She blinked, head tilted to the side. Then her eyes flared wide as she drew in a small breath, as if to say, "Oh." Miles held his breath, waiting for her to light into him. But, instead, she regained her composure and leaned towards him. "It's okay, Miles," she said softly, looking him straight in the eyes. "You can tell me."

He should be panicking, but all he felt was dull, aching numbness. "No, I can't. I can't tell anyone."

"I'm not just anyone!" Allie replied, stepping towards him. "I am your friend. If you tell me something, no matter what it is, I'm going to be there for you." She sent him half a smile. "Because that's what friends do."

Her voice exuded a gentle kindness. He wanted to believe her. But once he told her, he could never go back. In essence, he would be putting his life in the hands of a girl he'd known for a week. Yet the way he'd eased into a friendship with her, it felt as though they'd known each other for years already. And she was willing to take on his secret. "It's just..." He took a deep breath. "I'm already enough of a nerd, Allie, the last thing I need is something else making me different." 'Are you sure you can handle that?'

She pursed her lips, trying to think of how to respond. Then she smiled wider. "Sometimes being different is what makes us great."

A weight like a boulder lifted from his chest.

After a moment, he finally returned her smile. "Okay."

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"So, she accepted it?" Merlin wondered. "Just like that?"

Miles grinned. "Yeah. Even after magic was added to my weirdness, she was supportive. And she wasn't the only one. Will, Allie's boyfriend – beloved, that is – and his stepbrother, Marco, both found out, in... slightly more complicated ways, about what I can do. And they all took it in stride. It's..." His expression softened. "It's more than I could have hoped for."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "But?"

The smile faded. "I don't know. I mean, it's only been a month since all this happened, maybe I'm expecting too much of myself." He rested his head in hands. "These guys have proven they accept me and my magic. I trust them with my life, but..." He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. "I can't help holding back from them, even now." He thought of Allie's reprimand on the phone. "I know they've noticed. And it probably hurts more than they let on." Miles looked down at the floor. "That's what I wanted to understand. I couldn't explain, to them or myself, how I can trust them and not trust them at the same time." He nodded to Merlin. "And it worked, because you hit the nail on the head. When you know something can hurt you, you'll always worry that it will. It works both ways."

Merlin thought of all the people he'd almost told his secret to: Arthur, Gwen, that Gwaine fellow, even Morgana back when she was firmly on the side of good. Lancelot had found out by accident, and had kindly accepted him even though Merlin got him in trouble. The few times he was around, he appreciated Lancelot as someone in the know. But if Lancelot were around long term, what would that be like? "Do you ever wish they'd never found out?"

Miles shook his head. "God, no! Not so far, anyway." He leaned towards Merlin. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that people can surprise you. Sometimes for worse, yeah. But mostly for the better." He gave Merlin a look that reminded him eerily of Gaius. "All changes take time, Merlin. But you can't stop believing they're possible. I know how easy it is to get sucked into that mindset, but don't. The only certainty in life is that things will change. And that's not always a bad thing."

Merlin leaned back, pensive. He couldn't think of how to respond to that. But he did think of something Miles had neglected to mention. "Hold on," he said. "That vision you had to tell Allie, what was it about? And what about the book you mentioned earlier?"

.

Before Miles could respond, a door slammed somewhere above them. Miles stared at Merlin. "They're back!"

"We have to hide." So they scrambled to their feet and hid behind the huge stone column next to the stairs.

Moments later, they heard Balthazar and Dave trudge down the metal staircase into the lab. Merlin muttered a spell under his breath, eyes glowing, and suddenly they were able to see straight through the column.

Miles glanced at Merlin. "Very nice!" he whispered.

Merlin blushed and said, "Thanks." Then, they concentrated on the scene before them. The master and apprentice looked despondent as the entered the lab, Tank the dog tottling behind them. It took a moment for Miles and Merlin to realize: They didn't have the Grimhold.

Dave drew a hand down his face, a wave of fatigue sweeping over him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. It had been a long night. From flooding the lab, to encountering Becky, teleporting with Merlin and Miles to his apartment, then racing back to the lab to save Balthazar and getting into a harrowing magical car chase. After all that, they'd still lost the doll to the Morganians.

But for once, it wasn't his fault.

"Okay. Balthazar?" Dave began. "Enough with the silent treatment. You have to tell me what happened back there."

"What more is there to say?" Balthazar grumbled as he tossed his hat onto the table, his back turned on Dave. "I got distracted. We lost the Grimhold. Case closed."

Dave wagged his finger. "No, but Horvath purposely changed that woman to look like Merlin's third apprentice because he knew it would distract you!" He had glimpsed the illusion for only a moment himself: a woman with striking features, dark eyes, and a curtain of jet black hair. "Balthazar, I have to know."

For long moments, the master and apprentice stood as still as statues, Dave's eyes boring into the back of Balthazar's head.

Then, just as if it seemed the silence would last all night... "Veronica."

Dave jolted. Whatever he had been expecting to hear, it hadn't been that. "Sorry?"

Balthazar turned to face Dave, his eyes shining. "Her name was Veronica." Galvanized, Balthazar threw off his trenchcoat, crossed to the other side of the room and picked up the Incantus, then seated himself on a set of stone steps. He motioned to the spot next to him, and Dave hustled over and sat down next to him. Balthazar opened the book across their laps, and began, in a low voice, "For centuries, Veronica, Horvath, and I were the only things standing between Morgana and humankind's destruction." Balthazar turned a page and continued, "Our friendship and our magic were what Veronica and I depended on." He traced a finger over the page, which must have pictured the woman in question.

Dave nodded, then said softly, "You fell for her, didn't you."

Balthazar swallowed, unable to speak for a moment. Then he nodded. "I fell for her."

He unfolded Veronica's life for Dave (and, unknowingly, for Miles and Merlin as well). He spoke reverently of her power as a sorceress, her wish, like Dave, to be normal. "I fell for her..." Then, he glanced at Dave, "...and so did Horvath."

Dave's mouth hung open, but not in the comical way it normally did. He seemed genuinely affected by this, folding his hand over his mouth.

"That's why Horvath betrayed us."

Miles jolted. "Oh. Oh! He was the older sorcerer!" he whispered.

Merlin sighed. Of course one of his own apprentices had turned against him. 'Figures.' Still, it made sense. He had seen love drive people to do drastic things. He thought of Uther's rage in the wake of his wife's death. Of Gaius risking everything to save Alice, not once but twice. And he swallowed, remembering Freya. He'd almost left Camelot for her. From Dave's expression, he was in love with someone himself. He understood Balthazar's pain.

Dave gulped. "So... so what happened to Veronica? Is she...?"

Balthazar sighed, then looked him in the eye. "Remember the fusion spell? The one sorcerer who'd successfully pulled it off?"

Dave stared at him, puzzled. Then he gasped. "No."

Balthazar nodded, solemn. "When Horvath betrayed us and Morgana attacked, Veronica knew one of us had to survive to find the Prime Merlinean. So she sealed Morgana inside her own body, weakening her. And I... I locked them both in the last doll of the Grimhold."

Dave shook his head, his voice cracking as he said, "For a thousand years, you've been carrying her around with you, in the Grimhold."

Balthazar took out a handkerchief from his pocket. Unwrapping it, he pulled out a long, jeweled necklace, lacing it between his fingers. "I was going to give this to her that night."

Tears came to Merlin's eyes. He had to clench his fist in his mouth to stop a sob bursting out of him. It had been two years since losing Freya, but as he thought of Balthazar's lost love, the pain of his own suddenly came roaring back. Miles drew back in surprise, but remembered Merlin's loss. He clasped a hand over his shoulder.

But Merlin wasn't the only one. Dave stared at the necklace, then down at the book, more solemn than he'd ever been in his life. He'd been treating this whole thing as a game, and then as a punishment. He'd been thinking only of how it affected his life, not realizing just how many had sacrificed for the sake of his destiny.

Balthazar.

Veronica.

Even Merlin himself.

As Balthazar stood up and moved away from Dave, Dave stared after him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure what else to say. It felt hollow, not nearly enough compensation for what his master had gone through.

Then, just like before, he felt something inside him steel itself. He glanced at the ring on his finger, the gift passed from Kilgharrah and Merlin, to Balthazar, to him, and nodded to himself. He knew what he had to do. "Okay, Balthazar."

Balthazar stopped in his tracks, turning towards him.

"We are going to get Veronica out. And destroy Morgana. Whatever it takes, I swear I'll make this right."

Balthazar stared at him, impressed. Then his eyes narrowed. "What's happened to you?"

Dave's eyes widened as he remembered his uninvited guests were still in the lab. "Nothing!"

"You're still a bad liar," his master drawled.

Dave looked offended, then sighed. Time to own up. "Okay, yeah, you're right. Something did happen – "

He smirked. "Other than Becky?"

Dave scowled. How could he have known about that? "Yes." He rubbed his hands together. Balthazar deserved to know Merlin was here, but that didn't make him any less nervous. "Just... don't freak out, okay?" Dave put the book down, pressed up onto his feet, and called, "Uh, guys? I know you're still here so, uh, come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Miles and Merlin exchanged nervous glances, Merlin wiping the remaining tears from his eyes. Then, slowly, they came out from behind the column and walked into the light.

Balthazar took one look at Merlin and froze, the former master and apprentice standing face-to-face for the first time in centuries. Dave watched with his fingers crossed behind his back, silently pleading for a positive outcome. For moments that felt like hours, the only sound in the room was the distant buzz of the lights. Then finally, the sorcerer stalked across the room towards the time-displaced young man.

Merlin forced himself to stay still. He reminded himself that although Balthazar was a stranger to him, the man had dedicated himself to a thousand-year mission in his name. So he held his breath, waiting for the old sorcerer to make the first move.

Which he did, by clapping his hands over Merlin's cheeks and proceeding to squish his face.

Merlin muttered, "Er, what are you – ?"

"Sssssshhhh!" Balthazar hissed. He pressed his fingertips against the cheekbones as though he was searching for something. Then suddenly, he grinned. "It is you. HA!" He slapped Merlin on the shoulders, making everyone jump. "Look at you! I knew you and Dave were related, but only now do I see the resemblance." He reached up and rumpled Merlin's dark hair.

Merlin gave a tentative smile, glad the sorcerer wasn't upset with Dave. The apprentice in question sighed in relief, and caught Miles sending him two thumbs up.

Balthazar winced as his eyes landed on the side of Merlin's head. "Woo, those ears. I can see why you grew your hair out. Even I'm having a hard time taking you seriously."

Merlin covered his ears. "Hey!" They weren't that big.

Balthazar smirked. "No, your ears are fine." His expression softened. "It's funny. I was about your age when I met you – older you, that is." He glanced down at his ring. "It's all come full circle." He was contemplative for a moment, but then, as if someone flipped a switch, he turned and rounded on Dave. "Happy as I am to see you, however, you are not supposed to be here." He folded his arms, eyes boring into Dave. "So, care to tell me how that happened?"

Dave flinched. "Okay, well, according to the ring, he actually is supposed to be here! So, no harm no foul, right?"

Balthazar, stoic, raised an eyebrow. "Your ring told you?"

Dave glared, open-mouthed. "You brought the eagle on the Chrysler Building to life, but you doubt a talking ring?"

But Balthazar remained stern. "I suppose Kilgharrah also told you I was going to need rescuing?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, that was me," Miles said, raising his hand. "Though I think he knew too."

Balthazar swivelled around to face the boy, a bemused expression crossing his face. "Ah, well, thanks for that. I'll get to you in a second."

"Hold on," Merlin interrupted, pointing at Balthazar. "You called the ring 'Kilgharrah.'"

Dave glanced between Merlin and Balthazar, confused. Then it sunk in. He let out a groan. "Oh my God! You knew, didn't you!"

Balthazar grinned. "Sorry, Dave, couldn't help myself."

Dave felt himself starting to get angry, but then he thought of Veronica, of the pain in Balthazar's eyes as he stared at that necklace. So, resigned, he said, "You really couldn't have given me a heads up? A little one?"

"Well, I didn't know it would be tonight, so that was a pleasant surprise," Balthazar said with a nonchalant shrug. "My master only told me I would see him again, and it would be after I found the Prime Merlinean. Kilgharrah, I carried him around for a thousand years. I couldn't not know. Although," he said, finally turning his attention to the high school student, "I wasn't aware of a third party involved. Who are you exactly?"

Miles blinked owlishly at the imposing sorcerer. "M-Miles, I'm – Miles," the boy stuttered.

Miles saw something in the man's eyes glitter, bringing to mind Albus Dumbledore (book version, not movie version). Balthazar's face, however, remained impassive. "Ah," he said in a crisp tone. "And what is it you're doing here?"

"He's a sorcerer too," Dave said. "And sees the future, apparently. He arrived with Merlin."

"Really?" Balthazar remarked, drawing closer to Miles. "A spell meant to summon Merlin also happened to summon you?"

Miles shrugged, avoiding the penetrating gaze.

Balthazar's eyes narrowed, but still, he smiled. "Well, in any case, glad to have you aboard. We need all the help we can get." Balthazar alighted the stone stairs and stood looking down at them, the light from the archway framing him from behind. "Now that our enemies have gotten the Grimhold, the balance has tipped in their favor. However, Horvath will need some extra power to break through the last layers, so we have some time to get it back. But we cannot waste it. We need to retrieve it by tomorrow night if we want our best chance to stop The Rising from happening." He glanced at Dave. "Put your...'old man shoes' back on. We have work to do."

Chapter Text

Part 10: Calm Before the Storm

Originally published September 2015

A month ago, if anyone had told Miles that he would be training in magic with a thousand-year-old sorcerer, he wouldn't have dignified them with a response. In fact, not even a vision could have convinced him that such a thing could possibly be true.

Yet, here they were – the physics-major-turned-chosen-one, the most powerful warlock of all time, and Miles himself, training in an abandoned subway turnaround/lab/sorcerer's lair to save the world. And wearing "old man's shoes" to boot.

It made last month's debacle with Mr. Moore seem tame in comparison, which was strange enough. And his friends, when he'd called and told them what happened, had agreed (If only he could have seen their reactions when he told them about Merlin – the silence over the phone had been deafening). He'd asked them to cover for him with his mom, and thankfully it was the weekend anyway, so he could take a day to save the world and keep his perfect attendance record intact.

Although, if he died tonight, that would undoubtably put a dent in it.

He flexed his fingers, closing his eyes as he let a deep breath fill his lungs. Exhaling through his mouth, he imagined the negative thoughts leaving his body. 'I can't let that happen. I won't.'

He opened his eyes to see Dave, standing at the opposite end of the underground lair.

"You're looking a little peaked there, Miles," Dave teased, eyes bright. "You sure you up for this?"

Miles chuckled. "Bring it on."

"You boys ready?" Balthazar said, glancing at each in turn. He stood with his hand raised between them, like a soccer referee (minus the black-and-white stripes, which would have been hilarious).

Dave, who stretched his arms and legs as though about to run a marathon, proudly said, "Ready."

Aside from his worries, Miles felt glad everyone was in a better mood since the craziness of the previous night. His eyes trailed to Merlin, who sat on a tall stool near the steps, Tank on his lap. Even though his magic still wasn't working as well as it did in his own time, Merlin seemed in his element as he practiced his craft alongside them. Miles wouldn't have thought Merlin, who had a lifetime of experience, would need training, but apparently magic had made a lot of advances since Camelot at their prime. Balthazar, though still rather prickly, also seemed more open, and regaled them with stories of his training under Merlin and his travels around the world.

But the greatest transformation award, hands down, went to Dave. The night before, he'd been slouched, twitchy, and shifty-eyed. Today? He stood taller, smiled brighter, gazed hard and clear. He still had that essential Dave-ness – his clumsiness, his humor – but it was all freed from that fear of failure that had weighed him down. Although they'd only known each other a short time, Miles nonetheless felt proud of Dave's progress.

And as for himself?

Miles had been on his own with this new magic for weeks, and though his friends had known, none of them could teach him. All he had was a single book "borrowed" from the Pennington's vast collection, his own intuition, and nowhere to practice. So he was immeasurably grateful to learn from such a master of magic, to bond with two other sorcerers close to him in age, and to use his magic to his heart's content.

But being among these impressive figures, he couldn't help wondering: why was he here?

Sure, he understood the how of the spell that summoned him, but what was his role in this battle between Merlineans and Morganians? Dave was the one destined to stop Morgana, and Merlin was meant to help Dave until he was called back to his own time. With them and Balthazar, they seemed to have this handled. Miles was glad to help of course, but he wished he didn't have to leave his friends back home unprotected. The dragon had hinted a reason – but what?

Miles's fingers curled around his pen. He felt his magic connect to it, pumping through his body in time with his heartbeat. He would find out tonight either way. "Ready."

"Aaaaand...begin!"

Miles reacted first, sending a blast of wind across the room.

Dave stumbled back, giving Miles an opening to launch a chair at his opponent. But Dave recovered and called a fireball to blast the chair to smithereens. "You're lucky I didn't like that chair!"

Miles wanted to laugh, but stayed focused on his next move. If there was one thing Miles knew from years of being on honor roll, it was discipline.

They continued to volley back and forth, and eventually Miles gave in to the desire to smile. Miles had never liked sports or physical competition, but this? This was awesome! He loved how the magic pulsed through him, his nerves tingling with energy. He didn't feel weak or breathless – he felt strong and, dare he say, graceful? It was like the magic was guiding his body as well as his mind, attending to details he wouldn't usually notice. He wondered if this was how Merlin felt all the time.

Then Dave did something quite unexpected. With a knowing smile, he called up a plasma bolt and shot it... but not at Miles.

At his own equipment.

Miles peered behind him. Nothing seemed to have happened, so he summoned a bolt of his own, and prepared to fire.

But then...

Miles felt something slither around his ankles. He glanced down – power chords and metal coils were winding up his legs, grabbing onto his arms. Miles tried to pull them off, but the enchanted equipment held fast.

"I see you've learned from your mishap with the mops yesterday," Balthazar called to Dave, beaming.

"Well I had a little help," Dave replied, throwing a wink at Merlin.

Miles, meanwhile, was starting to sweat as he struggled, physically and magically, with the binds. His normally logical mind had been reduced to a single thought, over and over: 'Oh God, I'mtrappedI'mtrappedI'mtrappedI'mtrapped...'

The roiling anxiety in his body built, and built, and built, with no relief. Until...

A shockwave of energy burst out of him, pure will and magic blasting the chords off him. His pen clattered to the floor as he collapsed to his knees, skin prickling with the afterburn. His eyes, he knew, were glowing. Glancing up, he saw Dave and Merlin staring at him, wide-eyed. Balthazar merely looked intrigued.

"S-sorry," Miles muttered, flushing red. "I really hate being trapped."

"I'll remember that next time," Dave replied breathlessly. "I didn't think you had that in you."

Miles swallowed thickly, his throat dry. "Honestly? Neither did I." Shrugging the attention off himself, he added, "Not so bad yourself, though. Turning that plasma bolt into an animation spell was seriously cool!"

Dave crossed the room and pulled Miles to his feet. "Well, magic, it's all manipulation of matter and energy, right? So why can't one kind of spell become another kind of spell? I used plasma bolts as a focus for the pièce de résistance."

"Now you're getting it!" Balthazar said, clapping Dave on the shoulder. "Manipulating the mechanics to find new possibilities. See what you can do when you trust your magic?"

Dave smiled sheepishly.

"It's an excellent ruse as well," Merlin added, carefully handling one of the chords. "The Morganians have only seen you at your weakest. They'll be apt to underestimate you, especially if you appear to be using a standard plasma bolt." He smirked. "Being underestimated is half the reason I'm still alive, so use it to your advantage."

Miles pursed his lips. "The only thing is," he added, "If I could get out of those binds, Morgana and Horvath will shred them like toilet paper if you try on them."

Dave tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Huh, good point."

.

Balthazar strode over and plucked Miles's pen off the floor with a flourish. "I like this pen, Miles," the master drawled, scrutinizing it. "I prefer the classic ring as a focus, myself, but at least it's less conspicuous than Horvath's cane."

"You should see when it's full-sized," Dave said with a snort.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, fixing his gaze on the high school student. "Is that so? Care to demonstrate?"

With an awkward chuckle, Miles took the pen back from Balthazar. "Well, the thing is, I-uh... see, expanding it to staff size takes quite a bit of energy. I-I'm better off conserving it for tonight."

Balthazar paused, then nodded. "Fair enough. Would you mind at least telling me how you procured it? As an expert in magical items, I know how difficult it is to just stumble upon something like this."

Miles frowned, seeing Dave and Merlin's curious scrutiny. He sighed. "Well, to be honest, I took it from someone else. Where he found it, I'm not sure."

"Someone else? I'm guessing that evil history teacher?" Dave said.

Miles nodded, a dark look crossing his face. "Mr. Moore. Yeah. When he was trying to hurt my friends, I pulled his staff away to stop him. And when I held it," he stared down at the blue crystal on top, "it felt... it felt right." He smiled. "That's how I unlocked my magic. And since Moore wasn't using it where he was going, I kept the staff."

Dave wrinkled his nose, thinking over what Miles had said. "Wait – did you know you could use magic before you got the staff?"

Miles scratched the back of his head. "Allie thought it might be possible since I had the visions, y'know. But I wasn't able to do any spells."

"Was that why he was attacking your friends?" Merlin asked. "Because he knew you could use magic?"

Miles started to refute him, but stopped. Had Mr. Moore known, before that night? It wasn't entirely out of the question. Moore certainly hadn't seem surprised by Miles's magic. But if so, how long had he known? The thought made his stomach churn. Still, he could honestly say, "No, it wasn't because of me." He was going to leave it at that, but their expectant gazes made him, reluctantly, continue. "Mr. Moore, he's obsessed with medieval history. Y'know, Merlin's time. He'd found this prophecy and gotten it into his head he had to destroy the school golden boy to stop him from fulfilling some grand destiny." He laughed nervously. "I know, it sounds ridiculous."

Merlin and Dave winced. "Careful about calling destiny ridiculous," Merlin said darkly.

Miles held up his hands. "I'm not calling destiny ridiculous! I'm calling Moore ridiculous for the way he went about it. Anyway, he got it wrong, so killing Will wouldn't have done much. But then," he sighed, "we all had it wrong. Allie and I stumbled onto the same prophecy Moore was using, and we thought it was talking about Will, too. We wanted to protect him."

Merlin tapped his finger on his chin. "And the night you went to Allie's, when you told her about your visions – you must have gone because of this prophecy."

Miles nodded, a bit perturbed by how easily he'd guessed that. "That's right, yeah. The problem was that we thought Will's brother was behind it, because Moore was so nice and Marco seemed to hate Will." He crossed his arms. "But we'd gotten it mixed up, and we almost paid for it. Moore, wanting to live out some sick, twisted fantasy by killing Will old school, created some sort of medieval battleground pocket dimension thing for us. Allie, Will, Marco, and Lance, Will's friend, all got to be knights, but I was defenseless until I got the staff from Moore. Allie beat him, he got taken to a castle far away where no one can hear you scream, and that's about it. Although..." Miles trailed off, thinking over the events of that final battle. He glanced at Balthazar. "Magic these days can't be cast without a focus object, right?"

Balthazar tilted his head. "Except for the Prime Merlinean at full strength, yes. Why?"

Miles shifted his weight, looking down at his feet. "The way that I got the staff from Moore... I used magic to do it. A summoning spell, I think, an old one. But it sounds like that should be impossible."

Dave spluttered, flabbergasted.

Balthazar held up a single finger towards Dave. "Well, if you're sure it was a medieval battleground, that might explain it. Displaced from reality, the old rules of magic probably applied, and you didn't need a focus object, just the will and awareness of what magic could do. Helps that the staff is old magic as well."

Miles wasn't quite satisfied by the answer, but he conceded, "Makes about as much sense as everything else."

"About that," Merlin said. "We got some details about what happened to magic, the Old Religion leaving and magic in general fading from the world, but – "

"Kilgharrah was about as helpful as usual, right?" Balthazar said.

Dave raised an eyebrow. "And you're much better?"

"Hush, Dave." Balthazar took another stool and sat down. "First, let me make this clear – magic and the Old Religion? They're not the same thing."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "They're not?"

"They're not. Magic is inherent in all natural things. The Old Religion was simply a way sorcerers found to connect to and channel that energy. But they were so closely intertwined that, before your time, people thought the Old Religion was the only way to harness magic. When the Old Religion started fading, the practice of magic did become exclusive to those who could harness it from within, with only a little outside help from the magic of the earth. And when magic stopped being practiced so widely, along with increased populations creating cities, disconnecting from the earth, magic sort of... retreated to certain strongholds, places untouched by time. Manhattan, except for certain areas, is not one of those places. That's why you've been having a harder time here."

"But why did the Old Religion fade in the first place?"

Balthazar gave Merlin a hard look, pausing to consider his answer. Then, finally, he said, "I'm sorry, Merlin. I don't think it would be wise to tell you right now."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You know I'm not going to remember anyway."

"Not consciously," Balthazar corrected, raising a finger. "But don't think there won't be traces. It will be locked in your subconscious until close to your death, but it will be there. And... well, let's just say I don't want to influence you. Not in regards to this."

Merlin surveyed Dave and Miles, who appeared just as confused as he was (Miles, in particular, looked troubled). He turned back to Balthazar and said, "Are you saying what happened to the Old Religion... had something to do with me?"

A cell phone rang at that moment. Balthazar glanced at Dave. "It's for you."

Dave bolted and grabbed his phone off the table, as Miles muttered, "I guess that conversation is over."

"Is it Becky?" Balthazar asked Dave with a wolfish grin.

Dave rolled his eyes, though the hint of a smile played on his face. "No, it's my mother. Shush." He picked up the call, crossing to the other side of the room. "Hey, Ma."

Merlin asked Balthazar, "Who is this Becky you keep mentioning?"

"Girlfriend?" Miles wondered.

Balthazar chuckled. "He wishes. Though maybe someday, she will be." Then abruptly, the smile slid off his face. "If he survives Morgana."

A chill settled over them.

"You don't think he can?" Merlin asked. "Become the Prime Merlinean?"

Balthazar sighed. "Oh no, I believe in him, of course. He's always shown promise, and he finally has the attitude to match." He looked away from Merlin. "But then, I once believed my master was invincible, and he died right in front of me. Nothing is guaranteed."

Miles watched Dave, who smiled softly into the phone receiver as he talked to his mom. The image of his own mother flashed in Miles's mind, bringing a deep ache in his gut. She had never been comfortable with his visions, but that was more because of how uncontrolled they were, not because of the visions themselves. Still, he hadn't told her about discovering magic, or stopping Mr. Moore, because he didn't want to scare her. But if something did happen tonight...

"Would you guys excuse me for a second? I need to make a call."

*.*.*.*

Finally, it came time to put their plan into action. The four piled into Balthazar's ancient Rolls Royce and set off for Drake's apartment building. Silence pervaded the stuffy interior, each sorcerer in his own thoughts about what had to be done tonight. In fact, they were so lost in thought that when Balthazar finally pulled up to the curb outside of Bryant Park, the three boys shot up in their seats, Merlin nearly hitting his head on the ceiling.

"All right," Balthazar began, his voice low. "Our plan is, Merlin will canvas the area for the Morganians and their enchantments. Once inside, we will split up to find the Grimhold faster. If you come across Horvath, call for me and hold them off as long as you can."

"What about Abigail Williams?" Dave piped up.

"Abigail Williams?" Miles said, eyebrows arching up his forehead. "From The Crucible? What does she have to do with this?"

"She was trapped in the Grimhold - in the layer before Morgana's," Dave said. "Think body of the historical version, with all the evil of the fictional version, plus real hallucination-inducing powers. "

Miles cringed. "Yikes. Can we not run into her?"

Balthazar shook his head. "If I know Horvath, he's probably already sapped her energy in order to resurrect Morgana. So, you shouldn't have to worry about Abigail." Balthazar turned to Merlin and Miles. "Would you mind if my apprentice and I had a moment alone?"

Merlin and Miles exchanged a glance, then silently agreed, getting out of the back seat.

Balthazar turned to Dave. "If Morgana is released, no matter what happens, promise me you'll do whatever it takes to destroy her."

Dave hoped he could convey how deeply he meant what he said next: "I promise."

Balthazar seemed to understand. "And for the record," he said, "you wear the old guy shoes very well."

Dave nodded with a wry smile. "My feet disagree with you. But, thank you."

For moments the master and apprentice kept staring at each other, each reluctant to leave this moment and face what the future would bring. Dave decided to break the silence by holding up his fist. "Knuckle bump?"

Balthazar stared at the proffered fist a moment.

Dave gave a nod that said, Come on, you know you want to.

Balthazar then shrugged and said, "Might as well," and their fists met in the air.

The gesture became a pact between the sorcerers – no matter what, they would succeed tonight.

They had to.

Chapter Text

Part 11: The Trap

Originally published September 2015

The elevator arrived at the penthouse suite, and as they strode through, a huge set of steel double doors greeted them.

Although Merlin couldn't sense any sorcerers inside, he did sense an enchantment on the door, and, as Balthazar pointed out, Horvath could still be keeping watch over the place.

"Looks like getting in's gonna be hard enough," Miles said, eyeing the thick doors.

Now, Balthazar smirked. "Don't be so sure. Watch and learn." The old sorcerer splayed his ring hand, tracing the door frame in the air. Then, with a light shove – the door came off its hinges and hung in the air.

Miles's mouth dropped open.

Balthazar glanced at Miles. "That's how it's done."

Dave fist pumped. "Go Team Magical Stuff!"

Balthazar floated the door inward, letting them pass into Drake Stone's inner sanctum.

Merlin whistled as he ogled the high ceiling. "This place looks even fancier than the Camelot throne room!"

Dave wrinkled his nose at the extravagant décor. Looking to the right, he repressed a shudder at the sight of the huge portrait of Drake on a throne, draped by a panther and a scantily-clad woman. "That's...horrifying."

"Let's just find the Grimhold and be done with it," Balthazar said in a low voice. "I'll search left, you three go right." He held up a single finger. "Remember – don't be lulled into a false sense of security. I've been fighting Horvath for centuries, and I'm sure he's got this place booby trapped better than an Indiana Jones film."

Dave raised an eyebrow.

"What? I wasn't a complete recluse for a thousand years. I saw movies."

Dave shrugged. "Fair enough." Then he gave Balthazar a serious look. "Good luck, okay?"

Balthazar nodded. "You too. All of you." He cleared his throat. "Now go. We can't waste any time." And with a swish of his trench coat, he sauntered off.

Dave stared off after him, until Merlin shook his shoulder. "C'mon, he's right. We have to get moving."

.

Dave, Miles, and Merlin entered what looked like a kitchen, but was much bigger than any kitchen Dave had ever seen.

"Wow," Miles said. "My mom would die to have this kitchen."

"There's no way Drake cooks," Dave said, scowling. "I bet he has a personal chef."

"You said this man was an entertainer?" Merlin asked, skeptical.

"In this day and age, entertainers can earn nearly as much as kings," Miles said.

"Okay, well, I don't think he's keeping the Grimhold in the kitchen, so we should probably go," Dave said.

And then the lights went out.

Dave groaned. "Of course."

"Hold on," Merlin said, conjuring up a small flame in his hand.

"Thanks, Merlin," Miles said. But glancing around, he could see nothing but shadow. "I still don't see the door."

"Maybe we – "

A high, shrill laugh erupted somewhere above them.

Dave jumped out of his skin. "The hell?!"

"I guess we're not alone anymore," Merlin whispered, pushing the flame in front of him.

As if it wasn't creepy enough, the childish voice, echoing all around them, began to sing:

"Ring around the rosie,

A pocketful of posies,

Ashes, ashes,

You all fall..."

A ring of fire blazed up, surrounding them and the granite island. And on the island, stood a little girl, her wicked grin gleaming in the firelight. "...down!"

"Abigail Williams!" Dave breathed.

The puritan girl raised her chin. "Good morrow, Prime Merlinean. Prepared to meet your maker?"

"So much for Balthazar's theory," Miles muttered.

"Balthazar!" Dave called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Abigail laughed. "Don't even bother. Mister Blake will have his hands quite full right about now. You're mine."

Merlin called up blue flames in his other hand, the azure glow battling the ochre on his face. "If you want him, you go through us."

Abigail tilted her head. "Oh, you want to play with fire? I'll show you fire."

The witch girl lifted her hands above her head, and summoned a fireball the size of a globe between them, which she promptly tossed their way. It barely missed their feet, throwing them to the ground with a hard thud.

As they scrambled back up, Abigail lobbed another fireball at Dave's head. This time, he kept his cool and created a vacuum sphere around the fire, suspending it. "Nice try."

Abigail glared. "Mister Blake taught you well," she purred. "You know, he thought I was the Prime Merlinean for a while?" She sneered. "That is, until he realized who was really driving those pathetic Salemites mad." She flexed her fingers, and the ring of flames grew higher, stretching to the ceiling, sucking air from the sorcerers' lungs. Then, she closed her eyes.

And started to dance.

"Okay, what is she doing?" Dave asked, watching her twirl and pirouette gracefully upon the island.

"That sorceress who first went after Arthur used a song to cast her sleeping spell," Merlin said. "Maybe this is like that."

"Whatever it is, it can't be good. We've got to stop her from completing it."

All three launched spells at the witch girl – plasma bolts, stunning spells, the works – but they bounced off her protective shield and dissolved in the air.

Dave wrung his hands. "Okay, we're not making a dent here. Um, if we can't stop her... maybe we can break her circle and get out of here." He turned to the flames surrounding them. "Open sesame?"

And... nothing.

Miles facepalmed. "Seriously?"

"Well, it's not like I can do a vacuum sphere on this whole thing!"

Merlin's eyes lit up. "Not the whole thing, but maybe..." He quickly formed a mid-sized vacuum sphere. "Both of you, create a vacuum sphere the same size as mine."

Dave and Miles paused, confused, but did as Merlin said.

Once they had, Merlin pitched his sphere at the bottom of the wall of fire. "Now, throw yours above mine! Make an opening big enough to walk through!"

Now understanding, they each flung their spheres at the flames and, with a little effort, were able to create a seven-foot-tall opening.

Dave pumped his fist, then bolted toward the opening, Merlin right behind him.

But Miles hung back.

Dave turned to Miles. "Dude, what are you waiting for? Come on!"

Miles bit his lip. "She's not just going to let us go. Not if we all leave."

"You're staying?" Dave shook his head. "You can't face her alone!"

Merlin steeled himself. "He won't be alone. I'll stay with him."

"Guys, this wasn't the plan!"

"Dave," Miles said calmly. "It's you that has to go on. Not me, not Merlin – you."

Now it was Dave's turn to facepalm. "You just had to throw in the Harry Potter reference, didn't you?"

Miles shrugged. "I regret nothing." Then, gravely, he said, "We'll be fine. Go."

Dave gave them each a hard look. His shoulders sagged. Resigned, he said, "Be careful," and he ran through the opening.

.

And not a moment too soon. Because, with a gust of wind, Abigail completed her spell. "Let's see how you Merlineans deal with this!" she cried, thrusting her hands into the air. Shadows swirled around the little girl's body, then rose, towering above her until they reached the ceiling. The looming mass then solidified into a humanoid figure, and despite all the horrible creatures Merlin had encountered, this one? This one made his jaw drop.

A massive, muscled, midnight black beast glared down at them, with luminous yellow eyes bearing down from a face that was truly the stuff of nightmares – three-inch long fangs curved from its jaws, its head topped by sharp devilish horns. And from its back – wings. Bat wings that, flexed to full span, could rip the kitchen walls down. Miles, classical music nerd that he was, couldn't help but think of Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain as he gaped up at the creature.

"Merlin?" he asked, voice trembling. "You've faced magical creatures before. Any idea what that thing is or how to stop it?"

Merlin gulped. "Nope."

Abigail looked quite pleased with their horror, until she realized, expression curdling like expired milk, "The Prime Merlinean! He's gone!"

"That's what you get for using such a time-consuming spell," Miles mocked (though his heart wasn't quite in it, too busy pounding at the sight of her monster).

Abigail glared daggers at him, but then softened to mild disdain. "No matter. Mister Horvath will make sure he doesn't leave with the Grimhold. And in the meantime," a smile split her face that could make babies cry, "I get to play with you two." She looked up at her creature. "Chernabog? Get to work."

The creature's roar shook their very bones, and as it dove toward them, it was all they could do to scramble out of its way. It crashed against the kitchen cabinets with barely a clatter, and immediately surged up.

Merlin threw his fire at it... which Chernabog promptly grabbed, made larger, and threw back at them. Miles just barely shielded himself, while Merlin quickly conjured a massive vacuum sphere.

"Okay, fire bad. Fire very bad," Miles croaked.

Merlin glanced at Miles and gasped. "Miles, your leg!"

Miles immediately looked down and saw the hem of his pants had not been spared. "Agh!" Instinctively, he pointed his pen at the kitchen sink (barely visible in the light of the fire), which, with a rattle, exuded a stream of water.

"So that's what that's for!" Merlin said in awe.

Miles, doing his best to imitate Katara from The Last Airbender, manipulated the stream toward him and put out the fire. Then, he got an idea. Like a whip, he lashed the stream of water at the creature.

And, once again, it went right through.

Miles cursed. "What the heck is this thing made of?!"

Merlin tried a plasma bolt next. It didn't seem to hurt the beast, once again, but he noticed a strange flicker in the spot where it hit. 'Huh, that's interesting.'

"What's interesting?" Miles called as he fortified his shield against another attack.

Merlin paused. "I didn't..." Then he thought of Kilgharrah and the druids, how they had called out to him in the past. 'Miles? I didn't say that out loud.'

Miles stopped dead, then swivelled around to Merlin, eyes as wide as saucers. 'No way.'

Merlin nodded.

Putting a hand to his head, Miles refocused. 'Okay, I'll save the freaking out for later. What did you think was interesting?'

Rather than answer, Merlin propelled a larger plasma bolt at Chernabog's chest, which again, didn't seem to phase it. But, as Merlin pointed out, 'Do you see the way that thing flickers when you throw light at it?'

Miles leaned in closer. 'It looks kind of like a hologram.'

'...No idea what that is.'

'Like, um, an illusion. Y'know, an image of something that isn't really...' Miles gasped. ' ...isn't really there! Of course! Abigail's known for creating hallucinations!'

Merlin caught on. 'So, this thing isn't real. And the only way to stop it...'

'...Is to get to Abigail! Yes!' Miles stopped, his smile suddenly dropping away. 'Oh God, we're finishing each other's thoughts.'

Merlin again dismissed the weirdness. 'Okay, so if I distract her, can you take her out?'

'If by "take her out" you don't mean "kill her," then yes.'

'Shouldn't be necessary, just knock her unconscious.'

Shouldn't be necessary. Miles gulped. Merlin was cool and all, but he couldn't help but wonder just how many he'd had to kill for the sake of Arthur. 'Will do.'

Merlin nodded to Miles, then stepped boldly towards the shadowy Chernabog, one eye fixed on Abigail. He thrust his palm toward the sink and, following his friend's example, drew a long stream of water from the faucet. But Merlin had much bigger plans for his water, as he formed it into a free-floating blob as tall as the room. With the focus of an artist, he rapidly shaped the water into a shape both familiar and akin to him: a dragon.

"You idiot!" Abigail chided. "You've already seen water won't work on it."

Merlin put on the innocent grin he'd used to parry Arthur so many times. "True. But maybe this time I'll get lucky." Miles needed a huge distraction, and if there was one thing in which Merlin was an expert (other than magic), it was the art of distraction.

As the water dragon did battle with the shadow beast, Miles edged his way toward the ring of fire, getting as close as he dared without burning himself. When he knew Abigail was completely focused on the battle, he crouched low and snuck along the circle's edge. Once he was in her blind spot, he had to start thinking about how best to knock her out. Deciding a strong sleeping spell would work best, he found the perfect position. Pen in hand, he focused his power, drew in a low breath ...

And found he couldn't breathe.

With a clap of Abigail's hands, knives all around the room flew from their resting places, swooping in to surround Merlin, which broke his concentration so that the water dragon collapsed with a huge sploosh! Steam hissed as the water swept the perimeter of the circle of fire. As Chernabog disappeared in a puff of smoke, Abigail turned to face her would-be attacker, eyes glowing gold. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

Miles clutched his throat, falling to his knees as white spots filled his vision.

"You Merlineans are all the same," she growled, holding out a hand. "Always with your tricks. Well, I fell for those tricks once. Not this time." Fanning, white-hot tongues of fire unfurled from her outstretched hands.

Miles sought something, anything, he could use to defend himself. But there was nothing within reach.

He was going to die. By the hands of a freaking twelve-year-old girl.

But just as he was about to give in, his suffocating brain yielded a single clear thought: 'Are you a wizard or not?'

He reached, this time with all the magic he could muster, and flung the first thing he could find at Abigail's head. With a CLANG, Abigail went limp, the flames dying in her hands. Her eyes fluttered closed as she crumpled to the tabletop.

Miles felt his throat open up, and he hungrily inhaled the smoky air as the knives surrounding Merlin dropped to the floor. The ring of fire sputtered out, and the lights flickered back on. Miles shakily got to his feet, eying the object that had finally defeated the scary girl.

"Frying pan." He muttered. "Who knew?"

"Well done," Merlin said, brushing himself off.

Miles raised an eyebrow. 'Did you know you could do... this?'

Merlin shook his head. "I've only ever been on the receiving end. But then, I don't tend to fight alongside other sorcerers. Speaking of which, we'd better catch up to Dave. I hope he's okay."

"Hold on," Miles said, placing his fingers on his temples.

Merlin tilted his head, curious. "What are you doing?"

Miles grunted, "Trying... to make myself have... a vision."

"You can do that?"

"If I have a moment to focus," he replied through gritted teeth. Merlin mumbled an apology, watching the boy with fascination. Miles closed his eyes, letting a single question fill his mind: What's happening to Dave? Then, all at once, the image slammed into him, causing him to stumble back into Merlin's arms. Merlin tried to lower him, but Miles came to moments later, pale and shaky. "Oh God. Dave!"

"What did you see?"

But Miles was already up and running out of the kitchen. "We need to go right now!"

"Dave's in trouble?"

Miles whirled around to face him. "Worse." He gulped. "He's going to give up his ring!"

*.*.*.*.*

It had all been too easy.

The Grimhold just sitting in front of the fireplace, no booby traps, no beasts or sorcerers guarding it. Dave had happily grabbed it, determined to find Balthazar, help the others, and get out.

But Maxim Horvath revealed he had other plans.

Becky Barnes, paralyzed from the neck down, floated in the air next to Horvath, the end of his cane glowing against her throat. Even from across the long room, Dave could see her trembling, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears. When he had first started training with Balthazar, he'd fantasized about saving her from a situation like this. Now, he felt sick thinking about it. Even if he lived as long as Balthazar, he never wanted to see her this afraid and powerless again... if they even survived tonight.

His ultimatum had been given – give up Merlin's ring and the Grimhold, or Becky would be murdered in front of him.

Rationally, Dave knew taking the deal would mean Becky and Dave and the whole rest of the world would die in the Rising. But if he traded her life for his power... how could he call himself a Merlinean, let alone Merlin's heir?

Dave flexed his fingers, gathering the tightly-leashed anger and frustration inside him, and pulled with every fiber of magic he had. He felt it shudder, like lightning, through his limbs, the ring casting a green glow up his arm. But it was like pulling an elephant – Horvath's magic was just too strong. He folded over breathless, muscles burning as though he'd run a mile.

"Nice try, Prime Merlinean," Horvath chided. "But I'm afraid you're outnumbered here." He held out his cane for Dave to see more clearly, and Dave recognized a familiar ring perched beneath the top of the cane.

"That's... that's Drake's ring. What are you doing with it?"

Horvath shrugged. "He outlived his usefulness. I needed his magic. Figure it out."

Outlived his usefulness. Dave knew a bad guy euphemism when he heard it. He shivered. He'd never liked Drake. Like, at all. But to be killed by your own master? Dave drew himself upright, and though still a little shaky, he firmly said, "Look, Horvath, I know about Veronica." He held up the Grimhold, displaying the side that bore the image of the Merlinean sorcereress. "I know what she meant to you. It's what Becky means to me... or what she could mean to me, someday. And I know how much it hurts to know..." he gulped, glancing at Becky, "to know she probably won't ever love you back. But whether you make her suffer, or make the world suffer, it isn't going to make it better. Please. Don't make me do this."

Horvath stared at him, eyes narrowed, as though unsure of what to make of the honest plea. He scoffed. "You really are Balthazar's man through and through." With a jab of his cane, a bolt of energy shot into Becky, making her yelp in pain. "I'll ask again: what's it going to be?"

But Horvath didn't even have to ask. He already knew what Dave's answer must be.

Dave tugged the dragon ring off his finger, letting it rest in his palm. With a flick of Horvath's hand, the ring zipped across the room, sliding onto his cane. Then Dave held out the Grimhold. "Here. Take it." The Russian Nesting Doll, too, was ripped from his grasp, flying into Horvath's hand.

Dave felt the weight of a stone drop onto his shoulders. That was it. His power was gone. Their last hope, gone.

Becky dropped to her feet and bolted across the room, gratefully folding her arms around his neck. Dave rocked her gently, hoping to soothe her shaking.

"Dave!"

Dave turned to see Merlin and Miles racing toward him.

"We- we know what he's putting you up to," Miles panted. "But you can't – "

Merlin froze as his eyes rested on Becky. "We're too late."

Dave's eyes trailed to the floor. "I'm sorry. He was going to – "

Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder. "We know. It's okay. I'm glad your friend is safe." Merlin met Becky's eyes. "Becky, right? You holding up okay?"

Becky's expression softened, and she nodded tentatively at Merlin.

"Well, well," Horvath said, his smugness turned up 110 percent. "What a flash from the past this is. Not do I have Merlin's ring, but here's the man himself!" He tilted his head. "My word, you're so young. The resemblance between you and David is astounding." His lip curled. "It's a wonder I ever respected you."

Merlin surveyed him cooly. "Yeah, well, it's a wonder I ever trusted you."

Had the situation not been so serious, Miles would have commended Merlin's righteous burn. Instead, he stepped forward. "Give us back the ring and the Grimhold."

Horvath turned an icy glare on him. "Or what? I had a deal with Dave – if he tries to take the ring back, or the Grimhold, I'll kill him and his precious Becky. Don't think I can't from here."

Dave held Becky closer.

Miles rebutted, "Yeah, well, you made no deal with us. And we won't just let you just walk out of here."

A sadistic smile curved on Horvath's lips. "Oh, but you'll do just that. You see, I have something of yours as well." He snapped his fingers.

The sound of clinking metal overhead caused the boys to look up. Three figures, wrapped in chains, floated down from the ceiling, until their feet hovered just inches above Horvath's bowler hat. The female in the middle was the only one without her hands free, encased in thick metal cuffs. Unconscious, their heads hung low over their chests. Dave, Merlin, and Becky stared, confused, at the captives, until a voice beside them rasped, "What did you do to them?"

Their eyes flew to Miles, whose face appeared gray in the light of the fire, more grave than when he awoke from his visions.

In fact, he looked as if like his nightmares had come to life.

Merlin and Dave realized at the same moment who those three must be:

Allie, Will, and Marco.

Horvath only chucked in response to Miles's plea, prompting Miles to surge forward, aiming his pen right between the Morganian's eyes. "Answer me! What did you do?"

But Horvath didn't regard the threat too seriously. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Miles. They're only asleep. For now, anyway."

Miles drew back. "How- how do you know who I am? Who they are?"

"Yeah, you've never even seen him before," Dave added.

"Well that is a rather interesting story," Horvath began, as though telling an amusing anecdote. "See, earlier today, after killing my apprentice and taking his power, I was contacted by an old friend of my mistress's. He asked me for help escaping imprisonment and getting revenge, in exchange for assistance in destroying the world. Naturally, I was already too happy to oblige. But when we discovered one target missing, we decided to save the revenge until we had the whole set – my enemies and his, crushed in one fell swoop. And well – " he unfurled his fingers " – here we are."

Miles's mind churned, gears whirring. A friend of his mistress's? His mistress meaning Morgana? What friend could he be –?

Oh. The wizard's blood ran cold. "Oh no."

"Oh yes."

.

A figure emerged from the shadows at the other end of the room, taking his place beside Horvath. Clad in black armor, he looked like something out of Merlin's era, his fiery eyes fixed directly on Miles. "I believe you have something that belongs to me, boy."

Miles curled his fingers tighter around his pen, knuckles flaring white. "Mr. Moore."

Dave's jaw dropped. "That's your history teacher? Wow, you weren't kidding about the medieval history obsession."

"I'm lost," Becky whispered to Dave.

Dave gave Becky a sympathetic look. "Basically my evil sorcerer and his evil sorcerer have teamed up under that guy's," he pointed to Merlin, "evil sorceress to destroy us."

Stunned, in Becky's case, was an understatement. "Oh. Right. That makes perfect sense."

"Wait," Merlin said, glancing from Moore to Horvath and back again, "you called him and Morgana 'old friends'?"

Moore gasped in mock horror. "Oh, no! Don't tell me Miles never told you..." And as he stared at the warlock with murder in his eyes, a child's voice rang out in their minds: '...Emrys.'

Merlin jolted – he knew that voice all too well. He stared around, trying to find the familiar round face and pale blue eyes... until he turned, disbelieving, to the former history teacher. "Mordred?"

The corner of the teacher's mouth twitched.

Dave swivelled around to Merlin. "Did you just call him – ?" He goggled at Miles. "Did he just call him – ?" He threw his hands in the air. "You're not serious! Freaking Mordred's here too?!"

Becky did a double take. "Whoa, Mordred? First there's a Merlin, now there's a Mordred? Like from the King Arthur stories? Those- those are just myths!"

Moore glowered. Taking his sword out of his scabbard he stalked toward them. "Do I look like a myth to you, girl?"

Merlin jumped in and drew a large blue shield between the two parties, Becky clutching Dave's hand. Merlin fixed his eyes on the teacher. "So, you're still alive."

Moore drew away from the shield, but was not intimidated. "Unlike Morgana and the apprentices, I actually did die all those years ago in Camelot. But I was reborn in a new body."

"What, you mean like reincarnation?" Dave asked. "That's actually a thing?"

"It is indeed a 'thing,' as you say. When I remembered my true identity, I began my mission: to find Arthur, and destroy him."

Merlin froze. Did he just say... "Arthur – Arthur's alive? Now?" The words were barely a whisper, full of dread as much as hope. For how could Arthur be alive if Merlin wasn't around to protect him?

"And closer than you think," Moore replied, voice as smooth and deadly as a viper. He threw a look at Horvath. "Perhaps our guests ought to be conscious for this."

Horvath waved his hand, and the three prone figures startled awake.

Miles bolted forward. "Guys! Are you okay?"

Allie shook her head, blinking dazedly until she spotted her friend. "Miles?" She gasped. "Miles! You have to get out of here! Moore's escaped, he wants you – "

"Allie, it's a little late for the warning," Marco drawled.

Allie's head snapped to the dark-haired boy. "Marco!" She swivelled to the other side, and breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted her boyfriend. "Will! Did they hurt you?"

Will peered up at her. "I've been better, but basically, fine."

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking." Marco rolled his eyes. "Lovebirds."

Moore snarled, "Can we get the niceties out of the way, please?"

Allie's eyes blazed when they found her captor. "Let them go, Mordred! I'm the one you want."

He cooed, "Aw, very sweet of you. But, you're actually not my target right now, so I'll get back to you."

.

Allie tried to say more, but Horvath held up the Grimhold, displaying the Morgana side as Moore addressed the teens in chains. "Pop quiz. Can anyone here tell me what was Morgana's last act before she was sealed in this doll?"

Will and Allie cast furtive glances at each other, shrugging and shaking their heads. But Marco fixed a poisonous look at the former teacher, and growled, "She killed Merlin."

Everyone stared at him, reactions varying from confused (Becky) to horrified (Miles's friends) to disheartened (Merlin himself).

"Very good!" Horvath said. "Yes, Morgana killed the great Merlin, as was destined."

"With your help," Dave shot coldly.

Horvath ignored him. "The problem is, he just couldn't stay dead. Imagine, how upset Lady Morgana would be to discover her last great act was all for naught! That her greatest enemy is not only alive, but skipping around fresh as a daisy!" His smile turned ravenous. "Well, we can't have that, can we? That's why her first act once she's completed the Rising... will be an encore performance."

Merlin and Miles looked stricken, while Allie, Will, and Marco kicked and tugged at their chains. But before any of them could speak, Dave cried, "You can't!"

Moore crossed his arms. "Why? Because you'll stop us?"

"No! Well, yes, hopefully, but that's not what I meant." Dave huffed. "Morgana can't kill Merlin," he said, gesturing to Merlin. "Like literally can't, not in this time. Not without destroying her own past, and yours, and possibly making all history unravel itself. It's a recipe for disaster."

Horvath sneered. "Yes, it would be... if I was talking about that Merlin."

Merlin stiffened, a chill pricking the back of his neck. "What are you saying?"

"Yeah, there's kind of only one Merlin," Dave said. "And he's right here."

Moore raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He fixed his gaze on Merlin. "Well then, allow me to properly introduce our guests. Perhaps Merlin here has heard of them." Standing under the three chained figures, he grandly gestured to Will and said, "May I present: Sir Leon of Camelot," then to Marco, calling him, "Sir Gwaine of Camelot," then overhead, to Allie, "and King Arthur Pendragon. Back from the dead." Then he placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, and how could I forget – the faithful manservant, the secret traitor, the one who made all this possible: Merlin Emrys."

Dave and Merlin followed the direction of Moore's incriminating finger. But, they discovered, it was not in fact pointing at the medieval warlock.

It was pointing at Miles.

The room fell silent, as Miles stared down the pointed finger like it was a loaded gun.

Glancing from Moore to Miles and back again, Dave finally said, "You're saying... he's Merlin?"

"And she," Merlin said, pointing to Allie, "is Arthur?"

They exchanged a look …

… and burst out laughing.

.

Moore lowered his finger, peering dumbfounded at the laughing sorcerers. In fact, everyone was gaping, including Miles himself. But Merlin and Dave were so consumed with mirth, they simply didn't notice.

"Oh man," Dave cried between chortling fits, "I knew you guys were crazy, but you really had me going there, until that last part! I mean, Miles? Merlin?" Dave snorted.

"And Arthur – Arthur can't be a girl!" Merlin snickered, doubled over.

Allie bristled. "Excuse me?!"

Marco chuckled. "Oh boy, you've done it now."

Becky, though extremely befuddled by all this, had enough sense to jab Merlin hard with her elbow. "What's wrong with being a girl?"

"Ow!" Merlin held up his hands. "Nothing! Girls are smart, strong, and worthy of the highest respect. But the Arthur I know would disagree."

Allie faltered. "He-he would?"

"He has called me a girl, as an insult, more times than I can count! Girl's petticoat even! Between being a girl and accepting magic, I don't know what's more ridiculous."

"Aside from you being here in the first place?" Moore said cooly.

"Well, yes, but that was because of – " Suddenly, he straightened, stiff as a rod, the laughter dying in his throat. "The spell."

Dave, still sniggering, glanced at Merlin. "What?"

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, his mind whirling as he realized, "The spell from the ring that brought me here, it was meant to summon Merlin. Kilgharrah and Balthazar both said as much."

"Yeah, and here you are. What's your point?"

Merlin stared at him, wide-eyed. "But Miles was summoned, too."

This made Dave pause, but he shrugged. "Well, Kilgharrah also said he had a role in this. That he was destined to be here. That doesn't mean he's you."

Merlin blinked at the wording. "Destined," he muttered absently. Then in a flash, he rounded on Miles, who edged away. "That prophecy Moore wanted to stop...Moore, who is Mordred...you never said what it was actually about, did you." It wasn't a question.

Dave pushed between them. "What does it matter?!" he cried. "Look, even if any of this was true, which it's not, Miles would have told us, right?" He turned to Miles. "Right?"

And now all eyes in the room were locked on Miles, who stood as though he'd been petrified. His mouth attempted to form words, but it was as though he'd never left that kitchen with Abigail – his throat pinching shut, barely able to breathe. 'Oh God, I'mtrappedI'mtrappedI'mtrapped – '

"Miles." He heard the whisper, even across the room. He turned to his friends, who, despite their state of peril, still smiled at him. Will met his eyes. "Just tell them."

"If they don't understand," Marco added, with a wry half-smile, "they're idiots."

Miles gazed up at Allie, who nodded, gentle but firm.

Ignoring the smug looks from Mordred and Horvath, he nodded back.

It was time.

.

In a low voice, he began: "'The king returns anew at the meeting of the moon's shadowing and a million falling stars.'"

Dave scoffed. "Miles, this is no time for poetry."

"It's not poetry. It's a prophecy." Miles looked Merlin squarely in the eye. "The prophecy Moore was after... predicting the return of King Arthur."

Merlin sucked in a breath.

Dave crossed his arms. "A prophecy which makes no sense, and which you said was wrong."

"Do you remember that lunar eclipse that happened a few weeks ago? Same night as a meteor shower?"

Dave wavered. "Yeah?"

"'Moon's shadowing'? Lunar eclipse. 'Falling stars'? Meteor shower. Meeting... on the same night." He sighed. "And I never said the prophecy was false. It was the person we all got wrong. But Arthur did return. And he..." Miles exchanged a glance with Allie, "...she...wasn't the only one."

Dave gulped. "You're-you're not saying..."

The high school student slowly backed away from them, pen firmly in his grasp. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I am so sorry. I didn't hide this because I didn't trust you or anything. I just...I didn't want to scare you." A nervous chuckle spilled out, unconsciously. "It still scares me, to be honest. But it's true. All of it..."

He held his pen vertically in front of him and clicked it. Gold sparks swirled around it, enlarging it to a full size staff – which Merlin recognized, with a shock, as the one he'd taken from the Sidhe his first year in Camelot.

Miles raised his chin. "...I am Merlin." He swerved around to point his staff at Moore.

"And if you want to kill us, Mordred? You fight me first."

Chapter Text

Interlude: The Sword and the Staff

(Originally Published April 2017)

One Month Ago

"I... I think I saw Excalibur."

Miles could not believe those words had come out of his mouth.

To be fair, it had already been a very strange night. Thirty minutes ago, he'd pedaled to Allie's house. Twenty-four minutes ago, he'd confessed his secret to her. And fifteen minutes ago, they'd discovered a prophecy saying the high-school quarterback was a reborn King Arthur, and his stepbrother was out to destroy him.

So, a vision about Excalibur – the Excalibur – was not so out of place. (Though he didn't appreciate it knocking him flat on the Penningtons' porch.)

Allie, sitting across from him, let her mouth dropped open. "Excalibur? Really? Where-where is it?! What did it look like?"

He saw the brilliant sword in his mind, shining against a clear blue sky. "Well, if I saw what I think I saw?" He grinned. "It was pretty awesome."

Allie beamed, which made Miles grin even wider. She leaned back, her smile softening into a more pensive expression."You know if Will is Arthur, and Marco is Mordred, maybe you're Merlin the wizard. Merlin was a psychic."

Merlin. The name echoed through his mind. And, maybe he imagined it, but the wind seemed to stir at the name as well, the breeze swirling around him.

But his logic won out. "Doubtful," he scoffed. "Merlin had a long white beard; I can barely grow a nose hair. Besides, do you see me casting any spells?"

Allie laughed, raising an eyebrow as she got to her feet. "Have you tried?"

He looked at her as if she'd asked whether ducks could swim."I grew up with Harry Potter. Of course I've tried."

Allie shrugged, offering a hand. As Miles accepted it, she pulled him up with surprising strength."Well maybe you need a new spellbook," she replied.

His fingertips tingled at the notion. But Miles shook his head. "It wouldn't work."

"How do you know?"

His brows furrowed, searching himself. "Not a clue. I just... know." Maybe not the best choice of words, considering he'd used that line earlier to no avail.

But Allie took in his words, and said, "Okay. You don't seem as shifty, so I'll take your word for it." She laid her hand on his shoulder. "But, I just know you shouldn't count yourself out so easily."

Warmth spread through his chest. It was the nicest thing anyone (outside his family) had told him in a long time. "Thanks."

She smirked, lightly shoving his arm. "What are friends for?" She leaned toward him, waiting for a response.

Miles threw up his arms with a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, I admit it: we're friends. Happy?"

"Took you long enough." She smirked.

Miles went to grab his helmet off the porch, but paused, caught by a stray thought. He straightened and looked her in the eye. "Why did you want to be my friend, Allie?"

Allie crossed her arms, caught off guard. "Oh, well... stubborness, I guess. You were all, 'you shouldn't be friends with me because I'm not cool' and 'who said I'd want to be your friend' when clearly you did. So I had to prove it to you."

Miles scoffed. "That's not an accurate impression of me."

Allie continued, unabashed, "You were just so convinced I was better off without you, for some reason." Her voice softened. "And anyone who thinks that way is the one who needs a friend the most."

Wow. Gut punch right there. "Well, I was trying to hide my visions. You know that now."

She nodded. "It does explain a lot – though not all – of your strange behavior." She leaned on the wood railing. "Will said something to me earlier. He said, when he talked to me, it felt like we were friends before we met."

Miles leaned on the rail beside her, waggling his eyebrows. "Ooh, Will said, huh?"

Allie blushed red. "Oh stop, we're just friends." She gazed out into the night. "But see, I think that's what drew me to you, too." She turned her head to fix her gaze on him. "There was something about you, Miles. I can't quite put my finger on it. But I feel like we were meant to know each other."

Miles held her gaze. "Yeah. Me too."

The breeze picked up again, swirling around the two friends. They lingered for a time, staring into the night, letting the thoughts of homework and prophecies and past lives slip from their minds as the crickets sang.

One Week Later (The Night of the Moon's Shadowing and a Million Falling Stars)

As he surveyed his surroundings, only one thing came out of his mouth:

"That escalated quickly."

Miles wished he had time to parse through the revelations of the past... what was it, ten minutes? Marco being a good guy was weird enough, but Mr. Moore was evil? And Allie was Arthur?

If this was a book or a movie, he so would have called foul on this plot twist.

But somewhere in the midst of all these revelations, they'd teleported from the school theater to some medieval battlefield, where everyone (including Lance, despite that he'd been nowhere near the theater) found themselves engaged in an armored battle on horseback.

Everyone except Miles, who stood away from the action. With no armor. And no notable way to fight.

From the hill above he watched the battle with his heart in his throat, his friends fighting the sword-bearing armies as though they'd trained all their lives. But Mordred was bigger, he was meaner, and he had magic on his side. Miles had to do something, but –

He hissed as another wave of prickling heat surged through him, making his legs give way beneath him. "What the heck is wrong with me?" he growled, clenching his fists as the sensation waned again. Mr. Moore must have packed something extra into that attack spell back at the theater, because Miles had never felt anything like this before. Something strange, something hot and cold and new and ancient, was building up inside him, anxious to be released. If it kept going, it might just eat him alive.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, quit the doom and gloom. Maybe I can make myself have a vision, like before, and figure out how to stop this." Right, as if he needed more pain. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

He clenched his eyes shut, reaching out with his mind to take hold of some answer, some clue. What he got... was not what he expected.

With the force of a truck, he was struck by flashing images. But this was no vision of the future. Instead, he saw other battles, saw himself lurking in the shadows but turning the tide regardless. He heard himself chanting words in a strange and familiar language. 'Spells,' he realized with a shiver.

He snapped back to reality (or, whatever this was), and stared down at his hands, the tips of his fingers tingling again. 'Were those... memories?' he wondered. 'Was that magic?'

Allie's words floated through his head: "Maybe you're Merlin the wizard."

And earlier, Marco had called him Merlin too. He'd been wrong about Will, but what if he wasn't wrong about Miles?

He stood, and fixed his gaze on the battle below. There was only one way to find out.

The words came easily to him, ancient words commanding swords to fly and winds to bend. He let the floodgates open, power surging through his outstretched arms –

But it shuddered, then spluttered, then seemed to fitz out like a short circuit.

His stomach plummeted. "Oh, idiot!" he grumbled, slapping a hand to his forehead, "I knew spells wouldn't work. The one time I didn't want to be right." He shook out the pins and needles in his hands. Something was wrong, something was missing.

His eyes darted to Allie – even with Excalibur she struggled against the onslaught of Mordred's magic.

Allie needed his magic.

Arthur needed his magic.

Then, his gaze drifted to Mordred's staff. As he stared, it felt as though the staff were calling to him, its power humming in sync with his own. With another flash of the past, Miles could see it for what it really was.

'It's mine,' he realized. 'The staff is mine!' Miles grit his teeth, drawing himself to his full height. 'All right. If Harry could do it with his wand when he was attacked in Privet Drive, then I can too.'

This time, he didn't stretch out his hands. He focused on the staff, on the kindred magic within it, and chanted, "Edcierr, stæf, aet ága! Forbearnan, brád sylfum firenwyrhta!"

Something clicked, like a spark to a flame. Heat flashed behind his eyes, every nerve electrified as the magic rushed back into his limbs.

Below, Mordred's smug expression went slack before surging into a howling agony, his hands burning red.

He dropped the staff.

Miles pulled.

And, as easily as breathing, the staff flew through the air, over Allie's head and the heads of the fighting armies, and right into Miles's grasp.

Allie's gaze followed the staff's flight, whirling around just in time to see it land in its true owner's hand. She smirked. "I knew he could do it."

As the staff transformed back to its original state, a gnarled stick with a blue jewel glowing on top, and his magic sang, complete and whole, inside him, Miles grinned.

"Being Merlin rules."

Chapter Text

Part 12: The Duel

Originally published May 2017

Miles stared down his former history teacher, his battle cry still resonating in the cavernous space.

You fight me first.

Why had he said it? Even he wasn't sure. His common sense certainly wasn't happy. He was an honors student – he didn't pick fights. He fought to defend himself if he had to, and even then he preferred to use biting sarcasm over brute force.

Was it the way his friends were just hanging there, helpless? Was it that stupid smirk on Mordred's face?

Or was it something deeper, a protective instinct inherited from the man who stood behind him?

.

Moore's eyes narrowed. "Fight me, Mr. Ambrosi? You mean, you wish to duel me?"

Miles sighed, and set his jaw. "I guess I do."

Allie pulled at the chains, stretching toward him."What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I'm not sure. But I think I'm making a bargain," he replied, eyes still fixed on Mordred.

"What are your terms?" Mordred asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miles tried to think over the sound of his pounding heart. "If I win, you let us all go. And Dave gets his ring back."

At the mention of his name, Becky glanced up at Dave, beside her. But the man in question didn't react, staring at Miles's back like it was a complex physics problem.

"And should I win?" Mordred asked, a glint in his eye.

"You keep the ring, and... you take me."

Allie's stomach plummeted. "Miles, no!"

"You can't!" Will strained at the bindings, which seemed to only clamp tighter.

"So either way, your friends go free?" Mordred snarled. "Awfully convenient."

A smirk tugged the edge of his lip. "Don't tell me you're scared of getting beaten by a teenager. Again."

Marco grinned. "Ooh, burn."

Allie glared down at him, trying to kick his head. "Could you not encourage him to do something stupid?"

Marco craned his neck up at her. "Hey, if he's gonna do it, we might as well cheer him on."

Allie's eyes trailed to Miles. "But – he can't – "

"Allie," he cut in, voice firm. "You can't stop him. You're not gonna change his mind. Besides, he's Merlin, remember? He can handle this."

.

"Omigod, he's Merlin."

Miles groaned at the sound of Dave's strained voice. "Aaaaand now it's sinking in."

Dave clutched his head in his hands, his gaze jumping from Miles, to Merlin, and back again. "Oh my god, there's TWO of you!"

Will and Marco shared a look. Miles had told them earlier of Dave's sensitive temperament, but witnessing it was a whole other experience.

Miles, keeping his staff trained on Moore, peered over his shoulder. With a forced calm, he said, "I know this is a shock and you're upset. But I'm kind of in the middle of a life-or-death situation, so please – please – take a deep breath and don't pull a David Stutler?"

"Pull a what now?" Becky murmured.

"But-but-but I don't understand!" Dave stuttered, eyes still darting between the two. "You two are nothing alike!"

This gained him two identical expressions of incredulity.

Dave held up his hands. "O-okay, you kind of are. But-but not enough for you to be him! Or him to be you? Or...or...?" He covered his eyes. "Gah, my head hurts."

"How do you think I've been feeling?" Miles said, almost shouting, as he gestured at Merlin. "Every time I look at him my head hurts."

Merlin, seeing that both boys were staring at him, abruptly shut his still-open jaw. "Um...sorry?"

.

Dave turned to Merlin, unbelieving. "Are you seriously not freaking out right now? I mean, this is mind-shattering, reality-altering stuff here."

Merlin went blank. "Ummmm..." He scratched his head, trying to sort through the tremendous rush of feelings in the past five minutes. "I mean... it's definitely a shock? And I'm more confused than I've ever been in my life? Particularly about her." He pointed to Allie.

Allie frowned, unsure how to feel about this.

"But other than that, I'm... not really upset at all, actually," he continued, quite caught off guard by the thought.

"You're not?!" Dave squeaked.

"You're not?" Miles asked softly, eyes wide.

"No." He shrugged. "To be fair, I'm so used to betrayals, this is harmless in comparison."

Miles remembered some of Merlin's stories and cringed. "Gee, thanks."

"But perhaps..." The warlock trailed off, meeting the wizard's eyes as dozens of little things, little observances about Miles, flashed through his mind. All his reservations, his dedication to his friends, his knowledge of what it meant to have a destiny. There were times when Miles knew Merlin as well as he knew himself. He thought that was just because of their similar outcast backgrounds, but now, he had to say, "...Perhaps deep down I sensed it."

Miles met his steady blue gaze, and swore he could feel something resonate between them, like a static charge. "I know I did."

.

Dave threw up his arms. "Well I didn't! And I'd really like some answers – !"

"You'd like answers?!"

Everyone in the room turned to look at Becky, who seemed surprised at the sound of her own voice, after being quiet for so long. But she jutted her chin out and continued, "Dave, I was kidnapped by a twelve-year-old with glowing eyes! I was floating, and-and paralyzed from the neck down for ages! I didn't even know magic was real, and now there's evil sorcerers and reincarnated knights and two Merlins, and you – " She threw her hands down, heaving a sigh. "Well you seem to know an awful lot about this for a physics student."

Dave faltered, his heart dropping into his stomach. "B-Becky, I – "

BANG BANG.

Their heads swivelled around to see Horvath, as the sound of his cane rapping the marble floor echoed through the room. "As much as I enjoy watching you squirm, perhaps we could get back to the bargain? I'd rather like to see how this goes. Unless you'd like me to just kill you now." He lifted his cane, where the dragon ring glowed a sharp, sickly green.

Dave felt as though he would ooze into a puddle on the floor right there. He shared a wide-eyed glance with Becky, who nodded rapidly. So Dave gulped, then said, "Right. Yes. Carry on."

.

Meanwhile, Moore hummed, twirling his new staff in his hand. "You know, Miles, Horvath has a point. Why shouldn't we just strike you down, take your friends and the ring, no fuss no muss?" The jewel of his staff glowed at the words.

Miles bit his lip, drumming his fingers on his own staff as the silence thickened. Then, glancing down at the ancient wooden stick, the sparks of an idea formed in his mind. In a swift motion, he took the staff into both hands, and thrust it down toward his knee.

Merlin gasped.

"NO!" Mordred shouted, launching forward, arm outstretched –

Miles stopped it an inch above his raised knee. "I'll break it. You duel me, or I'll break it."

Mordred froze, hungrily eyeing the staff.

Horvath stepped forward, arms crossed. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Miles said coolly. "You just want to sacrifice me to Morgana anyway. Why should I let you get this too?" He held the teacher's gaze once again. "Come on, Mr. Moore. If you duel me and you win, it's all yours. If not?" He shrugged. "All that history. All that power. Gone forever."

Moore's nostrils flared. "Fine, I – "

But Horvath grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

"I can't let him destroy that staff," Mordred growled back. "Do you know how long it took me to find it? Besides," he stole a glance at Miles, "it's a marvellous opportunity to put that shadow of a sorcerer in his place. I know the boy, I know his weaknesses."

"Yes, but I knew Merlin," Horvath countered. "Much longer than you did. You can't underestimate him, even like this."

.

As the Morganians bickered, Miles felt tingling down his back. He frowned, absently scratching at it, but the feeling persisted. Almost as if...

He turned to Merlin, who jumped. "If you could quit staring at me, it's a little distracting," he whispered.

Merlin opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Sorry, I-I was just trying to sense..."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Sense what?"

The powerful warlock sheepishly shuffled his feet. "Sense if I was possessing you."

Miles did a double-take. "What?! No!" he cried, still hushed.

Dave swung around to Merlin, eyebrow raised. "Where did you get that idea?"

Merlin held up his hands in defense. "The only time I've seen a sorcerer return from the dead, he possessed someone to do it."

Miles huffed. "Well, that's not what happened."

He pursed his lips. "Well. Good. That didn't sound like something I would do." He paused. "I'm still confused though."

Miles frowned, eyes lowered. "Look, the reincarnation thing? I don't understand all of it myself. Especially since you showed up. But I think..." He trailed off, raising his free hand. With a flash of his eyes, he drew smoke from the fireplace behind them, and much like Merlin had done so many times, he gave it shape. Specifically, the shape of a silhouetted Merlin. "So imagine your life. Imagine your memories, your powers, your body, were all gone." He squeezed, his fist, dissipating the figure.

Dave caught Becky staring at the display, eyes wide with wonder, and felt a flicker of hope - maybe Becky wouldn't be scared of his magic after all this.

But the smoke coalesced above his fist, into a ball. "Now imagine what's left – your soul, or whatever you want to call it – was reborn in a child. You'd grow up in another place, another family, another time. You'd be the same at the core, but those new experiences would shape you into someone different. So you become..." Miles opened his hand, and the ball of smoke swirled and spun, until it formed into, "...me. No possession. Just a second chance." Hesitantly, he met the eyes of Dave and Merlin. "Does that make sense?"

Dave glanced from Miles to Merlin and back again (again). But this time, he wasn't as caught up in their differences – their magics, their demeanor, their wisdom. Instead, he remembered how easily the old magic came to Miles, and those times he and Merlin seemed to act in sync. The way he reacted to new information about Merlin, as though it were personal to him. "Actually, yeah, that explains a lot," he admitted, scratching his head. "Still weird as hell though."

Merlin slowly turned to Miles, crossing his arms. "But, does that mean you don't actually remember being me? Is that why you had so many questions?"

The teenager's eyes drifted toward the ground. "I remember spells when I need them. And there have been some flashes of memory here and there. But other than that?" He shook his head. "I didn't even know what I looked like, until you told us your name."

Merlin frowned, a dull ache forming in his gut. When he'd told them all those things about his past with Arthur and the ban on magic, it was with the assumption it wouldn't affect anything since it was so long ago. But if Miles was Merlin, without the burden of all those sacrifices and deaths and betrayals...

He reached out and placed a hand on Miles's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Miles stilled at his touched, a shudder rippling through him. What could he be sorry for?

.

But before he could ask, a blast went off just inches from his feet.

"MILES!" his friends exclaimed as he started to topple over.

Merlin's eyes glowed, catching Miles mid-fall.

Miles regained his footing, pressing a hand against his chest to catch his breath. He swung around to face the Morganians. "What was that for?!"

"You were taking too long with the heart-to-heart," Mr. Moore said. "I'd rather get this duel underway."

Miles stepped forward. "So you accept then?"

Horvath stepped forward as well, his eyes like steel. "If we're going to indulge this, then I'd like to add some terms of my own."

Miles met Horvath's gaze, raising his chin. "Go on?"

"If you cheat and try to get them out," he glared daggers at Merlin, "or if anyone outside the duel interferes, you forfeit and come with us."

Miles hesitated. Then, he gave a solemn nod to the Morganian. "Deal." He held up a cautionary finger. "But the same goes for you. If you cheat for Mordred, or you hurt anyone herebefore the duel is done, you both forfeit and let us go."

Horvath's dark eyes glimmered. "Fine." They shook on it, Horvath's grip viselike around the boy's hand. It occurred to Miles, then, that although Moore had tried to kill him and his friends, Horvath was the Morganian to keep an eye on.

Mordred was ravenous, fiery, and brutal – Horvath was all those things, plus the patience of centuries.

.

With a last smirk, Horvath broke his grip and strode to the center of the room. "Let the duel... begin." He thrust his cane down. It struck the floor, and a ring of fire sprung up around Miles and Mordred. Becky leapt back, Dave shielding her. But the fire quickly abated, revealing a simple circle cut into the floor.

Dave huffed. "What is it with the scary fire circles? Why can't they emerge more gently?"

"Well, it wards off the unprepared. We don't want the bystanders getting caught up in all this," Horvath explained, haughty. He leveled a particular look at Dave. "You'd know about that, wouldn't you?"

Dave went rigid, causing Becky to peer up at his face. She squeezed his hand, and he snapped back to himself. "You okay?" Becky asked.

Dave nodded gently. "Yeah, yeah. Just... bad memories."

Horvath addressed the crowd. "None but the duelers may enter, and none may intercede until a champion is found."

As Miles stepped into the circle, opposite Mordred, Merlin's voice called out in his mind: 'You know they'll never let us go, don't you?'

Miles bit his lip. 'Yeah. I know.'

'You have a plan?'

'Working on it.' Miles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he raised his staff and faced Mordred across the ring.

The sorcerers slowly circled around each other. From Mordred's calculating stare, Miles knew he was going to strike first. So, when the blow came speeding towards him, a whiplash of energy and heat, he was quick to conjure a shield to protect himself.

But the force of the spell sent shockwaves up his arm so strong he almost dropped his guard.

His magic felt strained – he'd already expended enough fighting Abigail. He took a steadying breath, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Then, he reached out to Merlin. 'I'm gonna need some help...'

.

Dave watched Miles cringe from Mordred's lancing attack. Although the younger boy straightened up quickly, Dave had to bite his fist. Another spell came streaking toward Miles, and another, and another.

'Where the heck is Balthazar when you need him?' Dave thought, though he wasn't sure if even Balthazar could help them now. His anxious mind wound tighter and tighter, conjuring images of Balthazar locked in some terrible trap, Miles sacrificed to Morgana, Becky flambéed by evil sorcerers risen from the dead.

He felt the weight of the ring on his finger, even as it sat on Horvath's cane.

Just then, a strange sort of buzzing seeped into his mind. He almost chalked it up to a lack of coffee, but it felt more like someone was...

'...Dave? Dave, can you hear me?'

Dave frowned at Merlin. "Yeah," he whispered, "why wouldn't I – ?"

Merlin smirked, lips firmly closed. 'Hullo.'

Dave's jaw dropped, but he promptly closed it, to avoid Horvath's attention. 'Ah, since-since when can you do this?'
Merlin shrugged. 'Since about fifteen minutes ago.'

Miles's voice leaked in now: 'You got him?' At the same time, Miles threw a quick plasma bolt at Mordred, which he barely managed to dodge.

'Okay, I've had enough surprises for tonight. What's going on?' Dave asked.

'We're getting everyone out,' Miles replied, 'And I need your help to do it.'

'But what am I supposed to do?' Dave clenched his hands. 'My magic is gone.' The word "gone" dropped like a stone in his stomach. For so long, Dave had denied his magic. Now not only did he desperately need it – he missed it.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, Merlin's sad smile greeted him. 'Dave, your magic isn't gone. Just the means to channel it.'

Dave hunched his shoulders, glaring at the ground. 'Same difference.'

'Don't worry,' Miles jumped in. 'The plan doesn't involve you casting spells.'

'And what exactly is the plan?'

Miles stole a glance at Allie, hanging above, her eyes fixed on the duel below. 'Allie needs to get her hands on a sword.'

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. 'That's it?'

'Yeah, even if we can get her hands free, how's a sword gonna help?' Dave questioned.

Miles sent a gust of wind toward Moore, but he easily swept it aside. He sucked in a breath. 'It's taking all my energy to keep this up and talk to you guys. So I can't go into all of it. But I need you to trust me.'

Dave squirmed, crossing his arms. 'Miles, if they catch us breaking the deal, we could all get fried.'

'Then we don't get caught,' Merlin replied.

Dave rolled his eyes at him. 'Really? That's what you're going with?'

Merlin shrugged. 'It's worked for me all these years.'

'Dave, look what we've pulled off when we've pooled our powers together before.' Miles added. With a swift motion, he swept the staff down, the wind slashing the air like a massive sword. It caught Mordred in the chest and knocked him to the ground with a loud thud. Miles exhaled a long-held breath, heady satisfaction and draining fatigue filling him. 'We can do this. We have to. But we can't do it without you.'

Dave felt his fear coil in his chest again. Balthazar was nowhere in sight. Merlin could disappear back to the past at any time. And the enemies had everything they needed for total world domination. He could see no way out of this.

But perhaps Miles could.

Merlin, Miles, and Dave. Warlock, Wizard, and Sorcerer. Emrys, reincarnation, and heir. The ring had brought them together for a reason. So together, maybe they really could save everyone.

Dave straightened. 'Well, I've only got one thing to say.'

Merlin tilted his head, expectantly.

With a subtle fist pump, Dave declared: 'Go Team Magical Stuff!'

.

.

Attack – block. Attack – block. The two sorcerers circled around and around, each pulling their punches, biding their time.

But while the magic was subdued, the verbal sparring absolutely seethed.

"Y'know, Mr. Moore, I love how you thought you had it all figured out with that prophecy," Miles taunted. "You had everyone's roles pinned down ready to play out your tragic drama. But not only did you get Arthur wrong and not destroy us, but you actually brought us all closer together. Ironic, isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I managed to spot you correctly. I knew you were Merlin ages before you did."

"A lot of good that did you." Miles waved his staff to conjure an array of sparks, which spat at Mordred's face. "I mean, you used my own staff against me and thought you could get away with it?"

His lip curled as he shooed the sparks away. "Well, I won't make that mistake twice. This time, Morgana shall have her way with you."

Miles tightened his grip, magic thrumming under his fingers. "Don't count on it."

.

Meanwhile, Merlin and Dave assessed the situation. A quick skim of the room revealed a prop sword, undoubtedly used for a blade box routine by (the late) Drake Stone, hidden off in a corner. Merlin had enough experience sneaking magic past the guards of Camelot that he felt confident sneaking a sword past Horvath... as long as he was distracted by the dueling, that is.

But actually getting the sword in Allie's hand? That was more complicated.

'Any spells coming to mind?' Dave asked, eyeing the metal shackles enclosing Allie's wrists and hands.

'One,' Merlin replied, a certain spell used to free a certain dragon playing out in his mind, 'but it's too flashy. This has to be subtle.'

'Because breaking metal is always so subtle,' Dave grumbled. He closed his eyes, wondering, What would Balthazar do? He was always so good at sneaky solutions.

.

"You know, I can see why they had a hard time believing you were Merlin," Moore chided. "It took a while to recognize you myself." He tilted his head. "Let's compare, shall we? Merlin: wise, humble, selfless, powerful, and always in the vicinity of his friends."

Miles flicked a plasma bolt at Moore, which he easily side-stepped.

"And then, there was you," he continued. "Smart, but not wise. Getting your assignments done early to prove you were better. No power, certainly. And not a single friend in sight."

Miles tried not to listen. He knew what Moore was trying to do. But how could he help it? He'd been drawing the same comparisons in his head since he'd met Merlin.

.

Dave pounded his forehead. 'Think, think, think. Come on, Dave, you're a physics whiz. Like Balthazar said, sorcery is magic andscience, so you should be able to ... ' He stopped. 'Balthazar said...'

Merlin's eyes swerved to the college student. 'Dave?'

Dave reached back in his memory, to the night Balthazar came back into his life and explained magic to him. Balthazar had said: "Everything we see is in a constant state of vibration, thus the illusion of solidity. But how do we take that which appears solid and have it burst into flames? We will the vibrations to go faster."

Dave gasped. "That's it." He met Merlin's gaze, eyes bright. 'We need to vibrate the cuff.'

Merlin looked skeptical. 'Vibrate it?'

'Like, vibrate it fast. So fast it's humming. The molecules will become unstable, and the cuff will just fall off.'

Merlin blinked. 'Molecules?'

Dave shrugged.'It's complicated. Look, Miles asked us to trust him. Now I'm asking you to trust me.'

Merlin sighed. 'Okay. What do I need to do?'

.

"He's wrong, Miles. Don't let him get in your head!" Allie exclaimed. Marco and Will cheered along with her.

Moore rolled his eyes and pointed his staff at her. "That's enough from the peanut gallery."

Allie shouted again, but this time her voice, along with the other prisoners', fell completely silent.

Miles gritted his teeth. "No attacking them during the duel, remember?"

"I wasn't attacking, simply removing distractions," Moore defended. "That was not stipulated in our agreement."

Miles groaned, but spat out, "Fine." He hoped the guys were close to a solution.

.

Merlin breathed in, then let the air out slowly. His magic locked on as he envisioned the unseen elements of the metal shaking.

All matter, Dave had told him, from air to wood to water, was made of the same tiny particles, smaller than dust mites. And just as Merlin could affect barrels and wind and cups of water with his magic, he could affect these tiny particles as well. While he couldn't create an incantation for such a task, for there were no words the Old Religion could provide, it wasn't necessary.

Dave laid a hand on his ancestor's shoulder. Warmth flooded Dave's body as his magic bubbled to the surface. It was still there. It had always been there, under his skin, waiting for a way out.

Where his ring had been the channel before, now Merlin himself focused Dave's magic. A creature of old magic, he drew on the energy around him as well as inside him. His descendant, his heir, was as good a source as any.

With magic, old and new, flowing through him like intertwined ribbons, Merlin kept a steady hold.

And the cuff, almost imperceptibly, began to tremble.

.

"Eventually I recognized the signs of the seer's gift in you," Moore continued. "And I knew if Arthur was to return among the students of Avalon High, then Merlin had to be trailing behind. Like a little lost puppy."

Miles lashed out with a jab of magic from his staff, but Mordred simply waved it away, like a bothersome fly.

Merlin flinched. 'Lost puppy my arse,' he thought darkly.

Horvath suddenly looked their way, making Dave almost trip over himself as he withdrew his hand from Merlin's shoulder.

As Horvath's gaze trailed back to the duel, Dave let out a shuddering breath. 'We need to focus, Merlin,' Dave urged. 'You can kick his butt for that later. Technically, you already are.'

Merlin couldn't help but steal a glance at Miles. He seemed too young to be Merlin's "older" self. Certainly too young to be handling this fight alone. But then, hadn't Merlin been young himself, when he began? Merlin shook his head. Miles could handle it.

.

But Mordred was certainly not making it easy. "But now, I think I know why you're so different."

"I don't particularly care," Miles spat out, even as he wondered the same thing.

Mordred went ahead and told him anyway. "Part of it is, you were starved for attention. Spent your formative years hiding the very thing that made you special, in both lives. You played pretend so long that you lost yourself in Arthur's so-called greatness."

Even as she wondered what Mordred meant, Allie's gut clenched with that familiar sense of guilt, centered around Miles and Merlin.

Merlin felt his mind pull away from the spell, as a voice echoed in his mind."You've been hiding so long you've forgotten..."

Gilli. He'd just had this conversation with Gilli, the young sorcerer who was so rash, so like him before Camelot. Even though the boy was wrong for trying to kill Uther during the tournament, his words still stung deeper than expected.

"So in this life," Mordred said, "without Arthur, without magic, you would excel with the one power you had left – your mind. In this life, you could get an education and shine in the academic sphere." A shadow crossed his face and, almost gently, he said, "For all that talk of being the dedicated servant, deep down you wanted to be seen, didn't you Merlin?"

Miles growled, his magic building like caged lightning in his chest. But as fast as he whipped up a plasma bolt, he felt his body seize, arm frozen at his side. Mordred had his arm raised in a Force-choke grip, his smile sadistic. Allie, Will, and Marco could only cry out silently, unheard.

"But that's not all, is it?" he hissed, eyes wild as he sauntered closer to the frozen Miles. He found Merlin out of the corner of his eye. "Because that wouldn't be enough for you, of all people, to be so averse to friendship. No." He leaned in close to the boy's face and said in a low voice, still loud enough for Merlin to hear: "It's because you couldn't bear losing them all over again."

.

The cuff around Allie's hand stilled.

Becky gasped softly, covering her mouth.

Dave felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh man." He moved to face Merlin, who'd gone rigid. He shook Merlin's shoulder. 'Merlin? Earth to Merlin! MERLIN.'

Merlin could only shake his head as the room started spinning. The Morganian had to be lying, would do anything to get to Miles.'The spell. I need... I need to do the spell.' He lifted his hands half-heartedly, struggling to refocus. But instead, Moore's voice wormed into his head, dark and slithering like a serpent:

"You were the last of the Round Table to perish, you know. Horvath told me himself."

Horvath, who'd patiently, silently watched the duel, let a sneer creep onto his face.

"You watched your friends die one by one, including the man you swore to protect."

Allie and Will stared, wide-eyed, down at Marco, who returned a grim look.

"All those sacrifices, all that suffering in silence and you still lost them all in the end." Mordred gave a mock sigh. "And I'm afraid by the end of tonight, history will repeat itself." He waved his staff.

Miles felt a blow to the stomach, his breath knocked clear out of him as he sailed across the circle and slammed into the ground. The plasma bolt, half-formed in his hand, burst out, ricocheting off the walls.

The staff slipped from his hand, as he gasped on the cold stone floor.

Mordred saw his opening, darting for it.

Merlin trembled in Dave's grasp. Miles couldn't move, couldn't even see straight.

Their magic wasn't enough. They were not enough.

.

'No.'

The two jolted as Dave's voice burst into their minds, more forceful than they'd ever heard it. Merlin looked into Dave's face, who looked to him as steadfast as any knight of Camelot.

'Last night, I almost gave up on magic. And on myself. But you guys wouldn't let me. So I'm not letting you give up now. You're stronger than this.' He grabbed Merlin's hands. 'We're stronger.'

Dave clenched his eyes shut, pushing as much magic through their connection as he could muster.

Merlin's breath hitched as the magic, like fire, flooded his senses. Across their connection, the energy seeped into Miles, lending him a second wind.

As Mordred reached down for the staff, Miles pulled himself forward and wrapped his fingers around it. The spell came easily to his mind: "Leoht Maxima!"

At the same moment, Merlin felt everything fall away – his doubts, his exhaustion, his confusion – and took aim. 'For the love of Camelot.'

A strong white light flashed from the jewel at the staff's tip right into Mordred's eyes, and he staggered back, throwing up an arm with a cry. Miles took the opportunity to throw his spell right back at him.

Horvath shielded his eyes. "You idiot!"

And, with Mordred and Horvath distracted, no one noticed the cuff vibrating faster and faster, faster even than a hummingbird's wings, until it phased right through Allie's hand.

Merlin whispered a quick spell, stopping the cuff just before it could clatter to the floor.

'Nicely done,' Dave said, beaming proudly.

Merlin half-smiled. 'Thanks. Not so bad yourself.' He gazed across the room. 'Now for the sword...'

.

Allie wriggled her fingers, bewildered. Somehow, she was free!

'Well... partially,' she thought, the other chains still weighing on her left wrist and ankles. If Miles hadn't been fighting, she would have thought he'd freed her. But if not him...

Her eyes drifted to Merlin. He appeared to be facing the battle, but ever so slightly, he glanced her way.

He winked. He tilted his chin up.

So she looked up to see, floating down toward her –

A sword.

And Allie grinned a very Arthur-like grin.

.

Meanwhile, in the ring, Mordred recovered his breath, a chortle escaping his lips. "What was that, a paltry distraction? Is that really the best you can do? Or is your new self just not brave enough to strike me down?"

Miles stood up straight. "Maybe I don't feel the need to strike you down."

"Really? And why is that?"

A small smile began to form. "Because I think there's someone better for the job."

He rolled his eyes. "And who, pray tell, is that?"

Miles adopted a pensive look, tapping his chin. "Hmm, now let's think: who's the best person qualified to kick your butt?" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right!" He pointed over Mordred's shoulder. "She is."

Moore whirled around to see Allie, hand free, reach the hilt of the sword. He blanched. "No – NO!"

.

As her fingers locked on, the tip of the sword flashed blue-white.

The light traveled along the sword's length, and everyone stared, transfixed. The sword was changing, becoming brighter, sharper. It seemed to sing, a shrill but gentle hum filling the air.

"No way!" Dave whispered, eyes wide.

Will's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes!"

"Hell yes!" cried his brother, grinning a Gwaine-like grin.

When the light reached the sword's hilt, the chains still binding Allie shattered, and she dropped to the floor in a crouched position, sword still in hand. Except now, it glowed with a light of its own, the hilt inlaid with gold.

Merlin's mouth dropped open as he realized, "I-I know that sword."

Becky stared from Merlin to the sword. "You mean that's – "

" – Excalibur." Allie got to her feet and lifted the sword with both hands, her blue eyes blazing. Then she smirked at her former history teacher and quoted his own gloat:

"Ta-da! Surprise ending."

Chapter Text

Part 13: All for One and One for All

Originally published March 2018

Horvath was stunned. It was a new look for him, and one that gave Dave no shortage of pleasure. The shining sword of legend now in Allie's grasp shook the hardened Morganian to his core.

(And Mordred wasn't looking too well himself.)

But the elder's shock turned to fury as he whirled around to Mordred, gripping his cane so tightly it almost snapped in half. "How the hell did she get Excalibur?"

"Oh, did he not tell you?" Miles mocked. "The prophecy clearly states, 'Any sword in the hand of King Arthur becomes Excalibur.'"

"And Excalibur," Allie continued, "is resistant to magic. Like so – " She spun around and with a swift slashing motion, Excalibur shattered the glowing chains binding Will and Marco. They dropped to the floor, and Allie flipped her hair, shooting a look at the Morganians. "Check and mate."

Merlin's lips parted in awe, as much from sensing the ruptured spell as from seeing it. He knew the sword he'd forged on the dragon's breath was powerful, but this was beyond him.

Horvath gave Mordred a withering look. "Well, this is a total bloody disaster."

"Enough of this," Mordred growled. He drew his staff and shot a concussive blast at Will and Marco.

Allie darted in front of her friends and blocked the blast with Excalibur. With a shower of sparks, the spell ricocheted off the enchanted metal and slammed into its caster as well as his companion, throwing Mordred and Horvath in opposite directions – Mordred barely missing the roaring fire in the fireplace, and Horvath hitting the wall behind them, right underneath Drake's horrendous portrait.

"Nice try," she said coolly.

"Ooh!" Marco said with a dark chuckle. "That's gonna leave a mark."
.

With the villains out of the picture, at least for the moment, the weight lifted from Miles's shoulders. He ran across the room, the sight of his friends together and free and safe drawing himlike lightning.

Marco was the first to see him, running up and catching him in a one-armed embrace. "Miles, that was brilliant!"

Miles froze, his instinct to back away from the former bully kicking in. But a bigger part of him knew this was right, like the staff and the ring and the sight of Excalibur in Allie's hands. So he gave in and hugged back, saying, "Hey, it wasn't me, it was Merlin."

Marco scoffed, breaking the hug. "C'mon, you had to have planned that."

He smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his smile. "Maybe a little."

Will broke in and tussled his hair. "That was some duelling, man!"

Miles opened his mouth to respond, but the force of Allie's hug knocked the wind out of him.

She pushed up onto her toes to wrap her arms fully around his shoulders. "Don't you ever gamble with your life like that again!" She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Especially when we can't help."

Will and Marco nodded.

"It's because you couldn't help that I had to do it," Miles replied. His gut clenched at how helpless they'd been just now, and her fearful expression made him want to reassure her.

He started to reach out, but... he dropped his arms, clearing his throat. "Besides, after watching you guys duel on horseback? I'd say we're even on the worrying front."

While Will and Marco chuckled, Allie sensed the hesitation... and frowned.
.

Merlin watched from a distance, entranced. It was difficult, at first, to match the reedy dark-haired boy with the dashing Gwaine, the clean-shaven youth with the rugged and significantly older Sir Leon. But once they came over to Miles, treating him with brotherly affection, it just clicked. Marco was Gwaine. Will was Leon. Different, but still very much the same.

But then there was Allie – this supposed reborn Arthur, with the sword to prove it.

On top of looking and sounding like everything Arthur couldn't stand, she'd hugged Miles. Actually ran up and pulled him in, without an ounce of restraint. With Arthur, Merlin was lucky to get a pointed look, a pat on the shoulder, a playful jostle, or a kind word. Those gestures spoke volumes, and Merlin appreciated them, but the affection stopped there. Arthur Pendragon did not hug, however much Merlin wished he would.

But Allie, apparently, did.

Something Miles had said the night before floated through his mind: "I want to understand... Understand why the Arthur you know is so different from the one I know..."

Looking at Allie, all those questions made a lot more sense.
.

"Hey!" Becky said, raising her hand. "This reunion is really sweet and all, but maybe we could take this outside before those guys wake up?"

"She's right," Merlin said, looking to Dave. "And we do still have to find Balthazar."

"Wait, Balthazar?" Becky repeated, also turning to Dave. "Like, your uncle, Balthazar? He's here too?"

Dave flinched – he'd forgotten Becky's encounter with "Uncle" Balthazar a few days before. "Yeah, it's a long story. And I'll tell you, I promise. But," he turned toward the other side of the room, "there's something I have to do first."

He strode across the room, through the deactivated dueling circle, where the unconscious Horvath laid, crumpled. He repressed a shudder at the horrifying portrait of Drake.

Dave knelt down, staring at the traitor, the torturer, the man who'd tried to kill him as a child. "Let's see how you like being powerless," he said, reaching for Horvath's cane –

A flash of blue light and a force like a brick wall stopped him dead, only for a second flare to send him flying across the room.

The others gasped as Becky cried, "DAVE!"

As his shoulder slammed into the ground, he felt something warm cushion the blow – either Merlin or Miles with a magic assist. But still, pain blossomed across his body as he pried his eyes open.

Horvath got to his feet, leaning on his cane. "A word of advice, Dave," he sneered as he brushed off his fur coat. "Make sure your opponent is dead before you try to pick his pockets." He cracked his knuckles as he locked onto Miles. "Well, boy, I'm afraid you lot broke your end of the bargain." He glanced over his shoulder at the painting. "Now, I'm going to have to break mine."

Dave went cold. "Oh no."

Allie turned to him. "What?"

"Ohhhhh no!" Dave groaned, scrambling to his feet. "Stop him before he – !"

Horvath rapped the glowing tip of the cane against the painting. As the canvas rippled like the surface of a lake, the black panther painted next to Drake's throne moved, twitching its tail.

Miles's jaw dropped. "Ho-ly Harry Potter!"*

The panther leapt out of the painting, ebony fur taut over its powerful muscles. As if having a live panther wasn't bad enough, it was also way bigger than it should be, its head at Horvath's shoulder. "That's a good kitty," Horvath cooed as he stroked its head. "Now, why don't you go and play with your food? I've got work to do."

As Horvath left the room with a swish of his coat, the panther began to prowl toward them, green eyes shining in the firelight.
.

"But it... it was a painting!" Becky stuttered, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Well, now it's a hungry painting," Marco replied as the group backed away from the huge, growling beast.

Dave facepalmed. "How did I not see this coming?"

Will glanced at Dave. "What, he does this often?"

"It's kind of his thing, yeah." He gulped. "Last time, it was wolves. Multiple wolves. I can't decide whether this is better or worse."

"At least it doesn't have wings," Merlin said, thinking of Freya's cursed form.

"So not helping," Dave hissed.

Allie locked into battle stance, rolling her sword back as she adjusted her grip. "We can take him."

Merlin started. Despite their difference in height (and… other significant things), with that stance, that sword, that blonde hair, and that glint in her eyes, the resemblance to Arthur came into abrupt focus. She even wore Camelot red, albeit as a blouse and not a cape.
.

Merlin and Miles turned their sights to the same far corner of the room. "Béonnen sweorda."

Two more swords, like the one Merlin gave to Allie, flew into the sorcerers' hands, which they tossed to Marco and Will respectively.

"Great minds think alike," Miles said. He directed a message to Dave: 'Stick with our original plan: take Becky and find Balthazar.'

Dave bit his lip. He didn't want to leave them to deal with this, but without his ring, Dave would be basically useless. Balthazar was their best chance. 'Don't get eaten while I'm gone.' He grabbed Becky's hand and dashed out of the room.
.

Miles formed a plasma bolt in his hand as the panther drew closer, but –

"Gah!" Something white-hot hit the center of his spine, his body arcing in pain.

"Miles!" Merlin caught him by the shoulders to stop his collapse.

"We're not finished, Mr. Ambrosi."

Miles grit his teeth, looking over his shoulder to find Mordred awake, eyes blazing gold as a thin wisp of smoke curled up from his staff.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to hit that smug sorcerer where it hurt. But, as his gaze wandered to his friends battling the giant panther –

Merlin turned Miles around to face him. "I'll protect your friends. You focus on Mordred."

"You sure?"

Merlin smiled. "They're my friends too, remember?"

Miles nodded. Then he faced Mordred, steadying his stance. "If it's a fight you want," he thrust his hands down, another plasma bolt forming, "it's a fight you're going to get." He thrust his staff, directing the bolt at the rogue knight's chest.

This time, he refused to hold back.
.

As Merlin turned toward the beast, he analyzed the situation. The three reincarnated knights, for their size, age, and lack of armor, were holding the panther off fairly well. But he'd seen even trained, armored swordsmen go down in battle against creatures like this.

Except this time, they had Merlin – a Merlin who didn't have to hide his magic.

With a single word, fire curled around the warlock's palms, licking his fingertips.

*.*.*.*.*

"Becky, we gotta move," Dave whispered to her as he pulled her out of the room.

"What? Why?"

"Balthazar's still in trouble." As they went through the archway, Dave added, "Plus, we could really use his help."

"How could your uncle help with a freaking mega-panther?"

"He's-" Dave sighed, coming to a stop. "He's not actually my uncle. He's... a master sorcerer."

Becky stared, then slowly nodded. "Right. Okay. He's magic too. Of course." She cleared her throat, as if commenting on the weather. "Does he... bring paintings to life as well?"

"Not that I've seen," Dave admitted. "Although, he brought the eagle on the Chrysler Building to life once." As her face paled, he realized he probably shouldn't have said that. "Becky?" he said gently, looking into her face. "Are you okay?"

Becky kept nodding, eyes unfocused. But Dave noticed her breath coming faster and faster. "I-I just feel a little... dizzy..."

Dave's stomach sank. He knew the symptoms of a panic attack like the back of his hand. This time he stroked her arms to steady her. "Becky? Rebecca? Hey, look at me, breathe with me. In... and out. In... and out. There's no magic here, okay?" He gave a reassuring smile. "It's just you and me."

She followed his instructions, breath slowing until she calmed again. "Okay, I'm sorry," she said, catching her breath. "I'm having a hard time keeping up with all this – " she spread her hands, " – magical stuff."

Dave sighed. "Becky, I'm the one who's sorry. I never wanted you to get involved in all this." He lowered his gaze, drawing away from her. "You need to get out of here, while the Morganians are distracted. Whatever happens, I promise I'll explain everything later." He bit his lip, wondering if there would be a "later."

Becky blinked. "Wait, you're staying?"

He wanted to say no, yearning to leave with her. But he set his jaw. "I have to," he said. "My friends need me." Turning on his heel, he took one last look at her over his shoulder. "I'll see you around, Becky Barnes."

And he started to leave.
.

As Becky watched him leave, visions of other partings passed through her mind.

When she caught him skulking away from her the night before, hood up and shoulders hunched, convinced that one botched date meant she'd never want to see him again.

When she went home after his tesla coil demonstration, body still buzzing from the electrifying display... and from his kind words.

When he was lead away by a chaperone, humiliated by his hysterics in the Arcana Cabana, never seeing her answer to his flyaway note: "Would You Be David's Girlfriend? – Check Yes or No."

The Arcana Cabana.

She nearly gasped as it dawned on her.

Ten years before, when little Dave had stumbled, shaking, out of that strange curio shop, he'd rambled on about "crazy wizard guys" and a terrible fire. Even without the lack of evidence, his story sounded impossible.

But, after what she'd seen tonight?

'He must have felt so alone,' she thought, wrapping her arms around herself. He'd held her so gently in the midst of her panic, calm and steady, a port in a storm.

But no one had done the same for him.
.

"Wait!"

Dave spun around to see Becky running toward him.

When she caught up, she gazed into his eyes, squared her shoulders and said, "If you're staying, I'm staying too."

Dave's eyes narrowed, as if she'd spoken in a foreign tongue. "Wait, what?"

Becky stuck her hands on her hips. "I know you're helping your friends, but someone has to help you too. So, I'm staying." She smiled faintly. "Plus, this way you can't weasel out of an explanation."

Dave's mouth opened and closed, rather like a goldfish. "I-I... um... okay?"Then, half-smiling, he jutted his thumb toward the next room. "Follow me, then."

*.*.*.*.*

"This sword's not properly balanced," Will grunted as he fended off one of the panther's swipes.

"Mine's not ideal either," Marco admitted, "but I've made due with worse."

"Well, we didn't all have Order of the Bear training since we were ten," Will said, grumbling.

"Hey! It's not like I have a magic sword," Marco said, motioning to Allie.

Allie rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, who here grew up with medieval history professors? And read all of Tamora Pierce's works? And spent three summers at medieval combat camp?"

"Excalibur does help, though."

She paused. "Maybe a little."

"Get down!" cried a voice from behind them.

Allie ducked her head, the other two following suit as a fireball roared over their heads, hitting the beast in the shoulder. It recoiled, yowling, ears flattening against its skull. The air filled with the stench of burning hair.

Allie straightened, turning to see Merlin, eyes glowing gold. She beamed. "Good shot, Merlin!"

Merlin blinked. No one had ever called him a good shot before. Least of all Arthur. Especially with magic involved. "Oh, uh... thank you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my gratitude?"

He raised his hands in defense. "No! Of course not." This time, he smiled. "Thank you." As she grinned at him again, he thought, 'The one time Arthur can appreciate my magic, and I'm going to forget it all later. Typical.'

"Ah, Merlin! Nice of you to join us," Marco said, with that cheeky grin Gwaine always sported in the middle of a bar brawl.

"Well, you knights always seem to find the worst trouble," Merlin replied. "Someone has to save your skins. Although," he added, "you're not a knight yet in my time."

Marco frowned. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Merlin said. "In fact, you hate most nobles." He grinned. "I can't wait to hold that over your head, Sir Gwaine."

He smirked. "Well, I'm happy to help. Right now, though, I think I hate cats more." He eyed the panther, wounded, but getting back to its feet. "This panther's definitely magic if it could still stand after a blow like that."

"Believe me – we've faced worse."
.

On the other side of the room, two sorcerers sized each other up.

"So, how did it feel, Mr. Ambrosi?" Mordred said coldly. "How did it feel when Merlin told you what really happened in Camelot?"

Miles stopped short, his breath catching in his chest. Fire promptly burned through his veins, coalescing in his hand. "I don't know what you – mean!" He slammed his hand to the ground. Blue flames darted across the floor, setting Mordred's cape alight.

Mordred hissed, scooping the flames into his own hands, which curdled into a poisonous green. "Heed my words, boy," he said. "I learned long ago that Arthur Pendragon will never truly accept magic." With a shout, he thrust the flames back at Miles, who ducked and rolled out of the way. They struck a samurai suit of armor, blasting it to pieces.

"You're not exactly the best judge of character," he grunted.
.

Meanwhile, the panther circled the four, baring its teeth as it closed in. Merlin spotted a display of Drake's many trophies, topped with crystal balls. "Get out of the way, I have an idea!" He gestured to the trophies. "Fleoge ond áflygennes déorum!"

The trophies flew like great glassy snowballs and pelted the beast, causing it to retreat as it swatted at them like flies.

"Very nice!" Will said.

But the beast roared again, batting all the trophies to the floor, broken and dented. But the beast roared again, batting all the trophies to the floor, broken and dented. Now angrier than ever, the panther lunged at Will. He lifted his sword in defense, but it swatted the blade out of his hand before slamming him to the ground, pinning his legs with massive paws. Will's face contorted in excruciating agony, releasing a strangled cry.

"WILL!" Marco and Allie shouted.

Merlin cried, "Astrice!" shoving his magic toward the panther. But he couldn't draw on enough external magic to push it back more than a few feet.

Miles whirled around at the cry, but before he knew what was happening, he was swept up into the air. A whirlwind now swirled around him, tossing him around faster than a demented tilt-a-whirl. From above, he glimpsed Mordred sneering at him, eyes glowing gold, and Allie and Marco trying to fight the beast as Merlin pulled the injured Will out of its path. Miles strained to break from the cyclone's grip, but no spells came to mind.

The plan had been to survive long enough for Balthazar to return. But they were out of time.
.

'Merlin?'

'Sorry, Miles, I'm tied up here.'

'No, I don't need help. I just... all those times you've sacrificed for Arthur or for Camelot, how did you know it was the right thing?'

Merlin paused. Why was Miles bringing this up now? 'I didn't.'

'Really?'

'No. But I couldn't live with myself if my friends suffered because I did nothing,' he replied, looking down at Will. Will who was Leon. Merlin and Leon weren't close, but he knew Arthur considered him his most loyal knight – the first to follow him against all odds, right behind Merlin himself. 'If my part was to lay myself down so others could survive, I could accept that.' He paused. 'Miles, are you sure you don't need help?'

Miles didn't hear those last words, his thoughts swirling as fast as the wind funnel.

Miles may have once been Merlin, but he recognized their differences. He'd grown up in a time when chivalry didn't exist, his one goal in life to get into an amazing college. But witnessing Merlin, Balthazar, and Dave's sacrifices for others... Was he brave enough?

As the panther's claws slashed Allie's shirt, knocking her back, he knew the answer.

Miles took in a deep breath and shouted over the winds: "MORDRED! I FORFEIT."
.

Mr. Moore froze. He waved his hands to disperse the cyclone, bringing Miles down to the floor. The panther dissolved into dust. "What did you say?"

The others spun around to where the sorcerers stood.

Miles leaned on his knees, head spinning. "I cheated by getting the others out," Miles managed to say. "And we agreed if I cheated, I forfeit. You take me... and you don't hurt them. If I go with you, quietly, will you honor that bargain?"

"Miles, don't you dare!" Allie rose from her injured position and rushed toward him. She grabbed his shoulder with her free hand and spun him toward her. "You can't just give yourself over to them."

"Yeah!" Marco said.

Miles grimaced, but steeled himself. "I have to. It's the only way to protect you."

Allie's eyes narrowed. "Since when is it your job to protect me?"

"Because you're Arthur! You're the one who's going to lead the world into enlightenment."

"Only if they don't destroy it first!" she cried, sweeping her sword arm toward Mordred. "And screw the prophecy, for a second. You're my friend."

He grasped her arm, prying it away. "And you all are mine. But I'm the one they want."

"Yeah, because they want to sacrifice you to Morgana!"

Miles sighed. "Allie – "

"Why are you being such a-an idiot?"

Miles bristled. "Well, why are you being such a prat?"
.

Merlin's jaw dropped.

Mordred smirked.

Will and Marco shared a look, as well as a sense of familiarity they couldn't quite place.

Allie's anger slipped away as she clapped a hand over her mouth, as though the words had come out without her consent. As she lowered her hands again, she said, "I... don't know where that came from."

Miles grimaced, glancing at Merlin. "I think I do." He stepped away from her. "I'm sorry, Allie. But I have to do this." He turned away. "You can't order me around this time."

Allie shook her head. "This time?"

.

Miles transformed the staff back into a pen, stared at it for a long moment, then slipped it into his pocket.

"Are you sure about this?" Merlin asked, gently.

Miles looked at him over his shoulder. "If it was your Arthur and your knights in danger, would you hesitate?"

Merlin sighed, which was all the affirmation Miles needed.

Taking a deep breath, he strode to where Mordred stood, smug in his victory. He spared a glance at his past self, the personification of a life he couldn't remember, that he might be killed for all the same. "Watch over them. And tell Dave and Balthazar... it was my turn to give up something for them."

Merlin nodded, somber.

With a wicked smile, Mordred gave one final look at the Merlin he first met, the students who had once beaten him. "See you at the end of the world." Then he closed his eyes, chanting in the language of the Old Religion, "Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!"

A cyclone of fog billowed around them, spiraling up towards the ceiling, and enveloping the sorcerers whole. Merlin remembered it well – when he'd watched Morgana get swept away from Camelot, the last time he'd been able to call her a friend.

When it dissipated, they were gone.

.

Allie ran to the spot where they'd disappeared, looking for a sign of where they'd gone. Merlin recognized the rigid stance, and gently grasped her arm. "Allie."

"He's gone," she whispered, staring at the ground. Excalibur slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor as a burst of light transformed it back into an ordinary sword.

Balthazar, Dave, and Becky charged into the room, Balthazar's ring blazing and ready for a fight. But as he looked around and saw the melancholy group, he frowned. "What did we miss?"

Chapter Text

Part 14: To Trust in Oneself

Originally published February 2019

Dave dropped onto the nearest sofa, his head in his hands. "So much for, 'Don't get eaten while I'm gone.' Apparently I should have added, 'Don't turn yourself over to the bad guys.'"

The air of the cavernous room hung heavy as Merlin surveyed the scene. Becky and Dave huddled close together on the couch, while Will still laid prone on the floor, his legs ravaged with gashes from the giant panther's attack. His friends hovered over him, fidgeting as Balthazar cast a healing spell, surrounded by a circle of red flame.

"We tried to stop him," Allie said, her voice edged with hurt. "He just wouldn't listen." She bowed her head, muttering, "Didn't help that I called him an idiot."

"No, this is on me," Balthazar said in a low voice, his arms moving in slow circular motions as his ring glowed. "I should have been with you. I played right into Horvath's hands."

"No, come on. Horvath almost killed you," Dave said. "We found you sunk waist-deep in a magic carpet, for crying out loud!"

"Persian Quickrug," Balthazar corrected.

"Whatever. The point is, this isn't all on you, either."

As Balthazar completed his spell, Will let out a long-held breath, smiling as he stretched his healed legs. "Thank you, Mr. Blake. Not sure how I would have explained to my coach that I couldn't play Nationals because of a giant panther."

Allie gave Will a hand up, a wan smile on her lips.

With a clap on Will's back, Marco said with a smirk, "Eh, I think the school golden boy would have figured something out." But he continued to Balthazar, "He's right, though. We can't thank you enough."

Balthazar rose to his feet. "Don't mention it. It's an honor to assist a Knight of the Round Table," he said with a small bow.

Allie and Will started, faces falling at his words.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "'Round Table?'"

"You'll find out soon enough," Balthazar muttered.

Allie rounded on Dave. "You told him about us?"

Dave reared back, holding up his hands. "Hey! With Mordred and Excalibur turning up, I sort of had to."

Marco pulled Allie back. "Allie, do you not know who he is?"

Allie wavered. "I know he's Dave's master, but ..."

He shook his head. "No, Allie, this is Balthazar Blake," he said, drawing out the man's name. At her blank expression, he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I thought you said you've been through the Order of the Bear book, 'like, a million times.'"

"I have! I mean, I've skimmed." She spluttered, "What does that have to do with it?"

Marco chuckled. "Oh nothing – it's just that the man you're questioning? He's the reason we have the prophecy in the first place."

Allie's eyes widened. "Oh." Rubbing the back of her neck, she whispered a quick apology to Balthazar, who simply smiled back.

"'Scuse me," Dave said, raising his hand, "what exactly is this Order thing?"

Marco sighed. "The Order of the Bear has been dedicated to seeking out the reincarnation of King Arthur for a thousand years." He fished a silver pendant out from under his shirt. Squinting, Merlin could make out a coat of arms resembling the Pendragon crest, with an added bear and sword. "My father was one of them, and when he died, I swore to continue in his place."

A chill went up Merlin's spine, an image of Gwaine – his Gwaine – surging in front of him. Gwaine's father had been part of an order too. And, like Marco, Gwaine had lost him when he was young. They even both wore a memento on a chain under their shirts.

How else had the past repeated itself, he wondered?

Marco continued to the others, "That prophecy Miles told you is the basis for the entire Order. And one of its founding members, the one who gave us that prophecy, was Merlin's last apprentice." He smirked, gesturing to the trenchcoated gentleman. "Balthazar Blake." He turned to Balthazar, clearing his throat as he bowed his head. "Might I say, sir, it's an honor."

Dave squirmed. Balthazar, of all people, had fans? "That is too weird."

Will's jaw dropped. "That was you?" he said to Balthazar.

Balthazar looked mildly sheepish, but said, "I couldn't go looking for Arthur while I was sworn to find the Prime Merlinean." He shared a look with Merlin. "But I knew my master would want someone on the lookout."

Merlin couldn't disagree with that.

Allie, with a hard look, said, "But the prophecy mentioned Mordred's return as well as Arthur's. And Horvath must have known too, if he was able to find him so quickly. If you knew that, and you knew the timing of the prophecy, why didn't you think Mordred would get involved in all this?"

Balthazar sighed, putting a weary hand to his forehead. "Yes, Horvath knew. He was still on our side, or pretending to be, when the prophecy was made. But as for the timing?" He shook his head. "I thought the 'king returns anew' meant Arthur would be reborn, literally, on the night of the eclipse. And I had no idea Mordred would be old enough that Horvath could turn to him for help." He sank into a chair, as if he could no longer stand under the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Clearly, I was wrong."

Allie softened her stance. "Well, I can't hold it against you. Our interpretations were screwed up too."

"Even the Order was split on the 'king returns anew' bit until the past year or so," Marco said. "We tried to contact you, but you never responded."

Through a fringe of shaggy curls, Balthazar glared up at Marco. "Until a few days ago, I'd been trapped in an urn since the year 2000. Between that, stopping Horvath, and training the Prime Merlinean, I haven't exactly had time to check my messages."

That was clearly not the answer Marco was expecting, but he took it in stride. "Well, that explains it."

.

Balthazar vaulted up from the chair. "We're running out of time," he said, turning on his heel and striding away from them.

"Wha-where are you going?" Dave asked, going towards him.

"Battery Park. That's where Horvath is going to release Morgana." Balthazar found a glass door leading outside and pulled it open.

Dave charged after Balthazar, the others in pursuit. "Wait, you can't take on Horvath and Morgana at the same time. That's – you literally can't!"

"I have to try," Balthazar said, his eyes like steel gazing out at the horizon.

"Well then, I'm going with you," Dave replied, throwing up his hands.

Balthazar whirled around to Dave. "Without any magic? Have you forgotten Horvath has your ring?"

Shame burned in his throat, pride still stinging from the crestfallen look on Balthazar's face when he'd seen the ring absent from Dave's finger. Balthazar had protected Merlin's ring for a thousand years, and Dave had given it away, blowing it all in a single instant. "I'm so sorry, Balthazar," he said, his voice cracking.

His master's expression softened, glancing from Dave to the woman he'd saved. "I would have done the same thing, Dave," Balthazar said gently. "But it means I'm going alone."

"What about me?" Merlin asked, rushing forward.

"Or us?" Will volunteered.

"And what do we do about Miles?" Allie added.

Balthazar held up his hand. "I know how Horvath fights better than any of you. Besides, Merlin, you can't be around for the final battle. You yourself told me you weren't there."

Becky frowned at that last bit. "Wait, what?"

"Merlin's older self told Balthazar's younger self, like, a thousand years ago," Dave whispered to the others. "It's all sorts of wibbly wobbly timey wimey."

Merlin huffed. "So I'm supposed to just wait for the magic to bring me back? If I'm still here, it must be for a reason."

Balthazar nodded sagely. "I agree. But not this reason." He gestured to Allie. "That reason." His mouth twitched with the semblance of a smile. "She's still Arthur, after all. With her Merlin missing, who better for the job?"

As Allie and Merlin shared a look, Balthazar hopped up onto the flat balcony railing, causing Becky, Allie, and Will to jump.

Dave held out a hand. "It's fine. This is normal for him."

Balthazar looked with deep fondness at the group gathered. "No one knows how much time they have with the people that are most important. Enjoy it."

Becky found herself staring at Dave.

With that, Balthazar closed his eyes, spread his arms...

And fell backwards off the balcony.

.

Becky shrieked and the others (except Dave) gasped as they ran to the railing, looking over the ledge to see Balthazar...

"Is he flying away on an eagle?!" Becky exclaimed.

"A steel eagle," Will added faintly, watching Balthazar, straddling one of the huge Chrysler Building eagles, zoom off towards downtown.

Dave shrugged as he waved them goodbye. "You get used to it."

"Impressive!" Merlin said, nodding. "I mean, it's no dragon, but still."

Becky turned slowly to Dave, eyes wide as dinner plates. "I could really use that explanation. Like, now."

*.*.*.*

As Dave lead Becky inside, Will turned to Allie. "You don't think Moore took Miles to Battery Park too, do you?"

Allie folded her arms. "I don't know. I think he'd need to take Miles someplace where he could keep him trapped, until Morgana..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"He might not even be in the city anymore," Marco said. "That spell could have taken him anywhere."

She grit her teeth. "Thank you, Marco, for pointing that out."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be realistic."

"I know that, I'm just... I need a minute." With a huff, she stormed off to the far end of the deck.

Will started to go after her, but Merlin held him back. "Let me talk to her."

He hesitated, but, finally, gave a nod. "Come on, Marco, let's go inside."

Marco looked concerned, but relented. "Only if we can raid the kitchen, though. Between the kidnapping and the panther fighting, I'm seriously famished."

Merlin grimaced. "There may or may not be an unconscious Morganian sorceress when you get there, so be careful."

Will raised an eyebrow, but Marco simply said, "Not even going to ask," and pulled his step-brother inside.

Leaving Merlin with Allie.

.

Merlin approached her gingerly, resting his forearms on the railing. "What's wrong?"

She stared at him, incredulous. "The world could literally end tonight, and you ask me 'what's wrong?'"

Merlin half-expected her to berate him for his stupidity, a la her past self. "Fair point. But, I think there's something else troubling you."

Her eyes narrowed. "How can you tell?"

He sighed, knowing he had to word this just right. "I'm not going to assume you're exactly like the Arthur I know, just as Miles is not exactly like me." He raised an eyebrow. "Quite fortunate, since that would be incredibly creepy."

Allie chuckled.

He beamed, glad he'd made her smile. "But, in my experience," he continued, "when the Arthur I know hesitates to take action, there's something else going on."

Her intensity as she listened mirrored Arthur's, once in a blue moon, when he seriously considered Merlin's opinion. When he finished, however, she cast her eyes downward, silent as the autumn breeze tousled her hair. For a moment, Merlin felt he must have failed.

But, Allie sighed. "Ever since this whole Arthur thing started, Miles has been with me every step of the way. I wouldn't even know I was Arthur if it wasn't for him." She shuddered. "And I don't even want to think about what would've happened to Will."

Merlin nodded, giving her space to continue.

"It's not just the visions or the magic that makes him special, either," she continued softly, a sad smile on her lips. "Just being there – helping me focus, making me laugh. I don't think I've ever told him how much that means to me."

Merlin chewed his lip, considering her words. Was this how Arthur had always felt about him, deep down? Or was this purely Allie speaking?

She tipped her head back, peering up at the sky as if hoping to find the answers there. "He gave himself up for me - for all of us. And I couldn't stop him." She shook her head ruefully, hands clenched into fists. "Worse than that, I got mad at him. I mean, I called him an idiot!"

"So?"

She leveled her gaze. "I've never called anyone an idiot," she replied. "Especially not Miles."

Merlin suppressed a snort. 'Maybe in this life you haven't.'

She folded her arms against the cold breeze and her own discomfort. "I'm supposed to be this independent woman, this reborn King Arthur. But right now? I can't stop thinking how I let my best friend down. So, how am I supposed to save him?"

Merlin held her desperate gaze, not sure how to respond.

She was so young, Merlin realized. Years younger than the Arthur he'd met in Camelot. Though in many ways she seemed wiser than the prattish prince, she had a vulnerability about her, born of a strong, kind heart. He'd seen glimmers of that heart in Arthur, hiding behind the arrogance bred by his father. But Allie let hers shine through, clear as day.

He set his jaw. He wasn't about to let that spirit be broken.

"I don't think you let him down," he said, firm and clear. "And you'll save him. We'll save him, together."

She scoffed. "How can you be sure?" She held up a finger. "And don't say it's because 'you're King Arthur,' because I'm not in the mood."

He pursed his lips. "Well I don't know much about this 'King Arthur.'" With a side glance, he added, "Sounds like a royal arse, to be honest."

Allie gave a dry laugh, wishing her parents could hear him say that.

"But," he continued gently, "I do know Arthur. The real Arthur. I've seen his courage and his heart beat unfathomable odds. That, more than destiny, is what makes me believe in him. And I see that in you. So does Miles."

She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on him. "Really?"

He smiled. "I could tell from the way he spoke about you, even before I knew you were Arthur. Why do you think his plan to save everyone hinged on you getting that sword? Because he knew you would save yourself and wouldn't stop until the war was won."

Allie frowned. "But we lost –"

"The battle. Not the war," he emphasized. "Miles chose to buy us some time. You couldn't have stopped him – I know that, better than anyone. But how you honor that sacrifice? That's up to you." He leaned forward and whispered, as he had to his Arthur not long ago: "Just trust in yourself."

A visible tremble went through Allie as she whispered, "Woah."

Merlin took a step back. "What?"

Allie drew her fingers to her temple. "Have we... have you given this pep talk before?"

He blushed. "I may have reused some bits." He peered closer at her. "Why? Did you remember something?"

She frowned. "Sorry, no. Just a feeling." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Just... thank you, Merlin." She smiled. "I needed to hear that."

It didn't matter that she looked nothing like his Arthur – that warm fuzzy feeling of validation still flooded his body, making him grin from ear to ear. "It's my honor."

She nodded. "Let's do this." She pushed off the railing and dashed past him so quickly his head spun. Before he knew it, she was near the door on the other end of the deck.

"Come on, Mer-lin!" she called. "We've got some planning to do!"

Merlin sighed, somehow both exasperated and elated. Now that sounded like the Arthur he knew.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Dave wrung his hands as he stared into Becky's face, lit by the flickering orange of the fire. "So, uh, yeah. Explanation." He held up his hands. "For the record, I wanted to talk to you about this before." He scratched the back of his head. "Well, at first I did, but then I thought I was going to give up on it, so I figured what's the point? Then Miles and Merlin showed up and it's just been one crisis after another since then, and I just," he threw down his hands, "I don't even know where to start."

Becky could tell he was working himself up, so she gently took both his hands in hers. "Look, Dave. If you can just tell me the truth, then I promise I'll do my best to understand."

Meeting her eyes, the warm electric jolt of her hands on his gave him courage to just plow ahead and say it: "The truth is, I'm a sorcerer, too."

Becky's mouth formed a perfect O as her brows furrowed. Still, she slowly nodded. "Okay?"

"So, what you saw Balthazar, Miles, and Merlin do? I can do a lot of that too. I can conjure and shoot these bolts of plasma out of my hand. I can speed time up, slow it down, varying degrees of levitation. It's all very... magical."

As he briefly explained his connection to Balthazar, Merlin, Miles, and Horvath, it occurred to Becky that none of this should be making sense. Yet somehow, it did, as little pieces of the puzzle that was Dave Stutler slotted into place.

When she was captured, Dave had pointed his ring at her and she'd seen it glow, felt a strange pull.

The night he'd rescued her bracelet from a mugger twice his size, she'd known something had been left out of his explanation. But she'd liked the change in him and let it slide.

And he never seemed more in his element than with his Tesla coils, blue bolts of lightning flying around them, making a music all their own.

He'd always seemed a little magical to her, really. This just proved she was more right than she could have guessed.

"And I thought my last boyfriend was different 'cause he wore a scarf," she muttered.

.

"AGH!"

The sound of Will's voice sent them running to the kitchen. They arrived just as Allie and Merlin slid into the room from another door.

Will and Marco stood over a body. A girl's body.

Abigail Williams.

Will, looking shaken, locked onto Merlin. "You said she was unconscious, not dead!" He gulped. "And you didn't say she was a kid."

Becky grabbed Dave's wrist like a lifeline. "That's no kid. She's a monster. She's the one who took me." A shudder wracked her frame.

Merlin paled. "She certainly wasn't dead when Miles and I left her."

Dave, on a gut instinct, asked, "Does she have her pentagram necklace?"

Marco checked, gingerly shifting her clothes as little as possible. "No."

His heart sank. "Then Horvath did to her what he did to his apprentice." He gulped. "And that means... he's packing the power of four sorcerers."

Everyone in the room stared at each other with the same question on their mind:

Did Balthazar have any hope of winning? Of even surviving?

But Allie found her resolve. "All the more reason we need a plan," she said, turning on her heel. "Follow me."

.

They followed her to the study where Dave and Becky had found Balthazar. Allie had taken over Drake's desk, papers and maps strewn over the glass-top desk.

"What have you been doing in here?" Dave asked.

"Strategizing," Allie said.

"Do you have a lead on finding Miles?" Marco asked.

She held up a finger. "I'll get to that. But there's something I need to say." She turned to the group, and pressed her hands, splayed, on the desk. "I know the situation looks bleak right about now," she began.

Dave scoffed. "Boy, that's an understatement."

She continued, nonplussed, "I'm going after Miles. But there's no point saving him if the world is doomed anyway."

Becky raised her hand at this, which Allie called upon. "What do you mean 'doomed?'"

"Evil undead sorcerer army? Coming to destroy the world as we know it if Horvath succeeds?" Marco asked. "Ringing any bells?"

Becky, for what felt like the millionth time that night, could only gape. "Oh, just that?"

She turned slowly to Dave, who could only give a sheepish smile in response. "Did I forget to mention that part?"

"Don't take it to heart," Merlin said, patting Becky on the shoulder. "He forgot to tell us, too."

"My point is," Allie said, refocusing the group, "I don't know about you guys, but I can't just leave the world to its fate without doing something. I also can't be in two places at once." She turned to Will and Marco. "Which is why I need to ask you both a huge favor."

Will held up his hand. "It's no favor," he said. "Miles is our friend, of course we'll come with –"

She shook her head, brows creased in concern. "No, that's just it. I don't want you to come with me."

He balked. "What?!"

"Why?" Marco asked.

"Because I need you to go with Dave."

Dave started. "Sorry, what now?"

She fixed her gaze on Dave. "Miles said you're the only one who could stop Morgana. If that's true, aren't you going to Battery Park to help stop this? You could use some backup."

"Forgot that part, too," Becky muttered.

Dave sighed. "Yes, I'm going to Battery Park. But I can't let any of you come."

Allie drew herself to her fullest height... which at five-foot-three still stood no match against Dave's six-foot stature. "Why not?"

He glared down at her. "First of all – y'all might be the reincarnations of the Round Table, but you're still minors," he said, with a slight bite of snarkiness. More seriously, he went on, "I can't be held responsible if something happens to you, and facing Horvath and Morgana is as dangerous as it's going to get."

"You brought Miles here," she countered.

"Miles had magic, and he still got captured. Not to mention," he showed his bare hand, the absense of the ring still throbbing, "I don't think defeating Morgana is in the cards right now."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Balthazar said the only way to become the Prime Merlinean, to even have a chance at beating Morgana, I had to be able to do magic without my ring. And, well..." He fixed his gaze on a stack of papers on the desk, focused, and flicked out his fingers.

Nothing happened. Not even a shiver.

He sagged, dropping his arm. "No ring, no magic, no defeating Morgana." He dropped into the nearest armchair. "I just want to stop Balthazar from getting destroyed so we can regroup and fight another day."

Becky bit her lip. She hadn't realized what giving up the ring for her life had meant.

Allie came around the desk and marched up to Dave, fists clenched. "Just what do you think Morgana's going to do once she casts the Rising?"

Dave cringed at the girl now towering over him. "Er... get a bite to eat?" A terrible answer, but it's what had Balthazar done, to be fair.

"She'll go after you," Merlin said, with dawning horror. "All of you." He pointed to Dave. "You're the one destined to destroy her, and Morgana hates Arthur and the knights nearly as much as she hates me. Mordred and Horvath will tell her what you look like, where you live. Even if we save Miles and Balthazar, it may not be enough."

"And I'm pretty sure she doesn't care that we're minors," Marco added.

Dave faltered, throwing up his hands. "Then what am I supposed to do?!"

Allie stuck her hands on her hips. "All I'm hearing are the ways you can't beat Morgana. Start thinking of ways you can."

"What exactly did Balthazar say about becoming the Prime Merlinean?" Marco asked.

Dave shrugged. "Something like, 'The Prime Merlinean will become so powerful within he will no longer need the ring to cast magic.' How does that help?"

"Maybe there's another meaning," Marco said. "Like with our prophecy."

Allie snapped her fingers. "Maybe it's not about using magic at all. At least, not the way we've been thinking about it."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"How is me trying to beat a bunch of evil sorcerers not about using magic?" Dave asked.

.

Allie looked to Will. "Sword, please?"

He obliged her, and the sword immediately glowed upon contact with her skin, changing into Excalibur.

She turned the shining sword over in her hand. "Do you think this is what makes me King Arthur?"

Dave screwed up his face as if casting a difficult spell, until he shook his head. "I got nothing."

She sighed. "Excalibur has been given a lot of meanings over the years. It proves Arthur worthy to be the Once and Future King, for one."

'Since when?' Merlin wondered.

"It may also stand for the divine right to rule, the responsibility of power, how no one person can hold power forever. And it certainly proved I was Arthur's reincarnation," she said, as a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "But while it's a great sword, and a pretty cool magic trick, it isn't what makes me Arthur." She placed the sword on the desk and paused until it changed back. "Just like rings and spells don't make you the Prime Merlinean."

Dave leaned forward. Balthazar had said something like that near the beginning of his training: "Your ingenuity, your heart, gives you an advantage over Morganians." But he still didn't understand."Well, what then? If not the ring, if not the magic, what is it?"

"I can't answer that for you," Allie said. "I know for me, adjusting to the idea I was Arthur after a lifetime of my parents' idolizing him..." She exchanged a look with Will and Marco. "Let's just say there were a number of sleepless nights and existential questions."

"Also phone calls lasting until two in the morning," Will added gently.

"But the more I thought about it," Allie continued, "the more I thought – well, why not me? I want to see justice done in the world. Being Arthur just validates that. For you?" She pointed at his chest. "I think it's something inside of you. Something you can tap into without your ring. Something the physical magic only accentuates."

Merlin nodded approvingly. "Big word."

Allie shrugged. "Academic parents." To Dave, she said, "I know it's easier said than done, but..." She spared a glance at Merlin, "Trust in yourself. You're capable of more than you think."

He smiled. Clearly Arthur's listening skills had improved with age as well. Then looked to Dave. "Remember Kilgharrah's message from my older self, too. You're my equal, but you have something neither Morgana nor I ever had. Whatever it is, that might be the key."

Dave leaned back in the chair, absorbing it. "Give me a minute," he said, standing up and started pacing.

.

As Becky hung back with Dave, Will and Marco grouped around Allie and Merlin.

"If we can't come with you, at least tell us how you plan to find Miles," Will said.

Allie smiled. "He was taken by magic. So..." She jutted her thumb at Merlin, "magic has to find him."

Merlin frowned. "I don't think I have a spell for that, actually."

"No, not a spell. A vision."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

She folded her arms. "Last month, Miles was able to find where Marco had taken Will by willing himself to have a vision." She whispered to Merlin, "This is when we thought Marco was Mordred."

"...You thought Gwaine was Mordred?"

Allie scoffed. "Long story. Anyway, I figured you must be able to do the same."

Merlin blinked. What did Miles's visions have to do with him?

...Oh. Oh.

He remembered Miles doing what she described to find Dave earlier, but that was before Mordred. And Arthur. And the panther. So it hadn't sunk in until that moment what Miles being Merlin meant for Merlin power-wise.

He cringed at the hopeful, expectant expressions on their faces. "I'm sorry, I can't."

She held up her hands. "Miles said the same thing before he attempted it. If he can do it, so can you."

His eyes fell closed, letting out a long exhale. "I don't get visions, Allie."

A stunned silence followed.

"...None?"

He opened his eyes, taking in her fallen expression. "No."

She shook her head, disbelieving. "But... but you're Merlin!"

Merlin groaned. "Yes, so you all keep saying."

"But where else could Miles get that power from?" she added, flustered. "Not to mention the prophecy – "

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "What about the prophecy?"

"Who do you think Balthazar got it from?" Marco said, with a pointed look.

Merlin's eyes bulged.

Marco put a hand on Allie's shoulder. "He hasn't developed that power yet, Allie. It took years last time around."

"We'll figure something else out," Will said.

"Wait." Merlin drew closer to Allie, bending down with his hands on his knees so he could look her straight in the eye. "You really believe I can do this?"

Allie didn't waver for a second. "I do."

He considered her for a long moment. The power to see the future was a dangerous one, and one he'd never wish on anyone, least of all himself.

But he couldn't let Arthur down. Or Miles.

He straightened up. "There might be a way."

.

Meanwhile, Dave stared out the window of the penthouse. He hated to admit it, but it was a great view. He wondered if Drake Stone had appreciated it when he was alive, or if he'd been too self-absorbed to notice.

"I can't believe we were just there last night."

He startled at Becky appearing beside him. He followed her gaze to the Chrysler Building, looming above the skyline not too far away.

"Was that last night?" He sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders (which it kind of was). "Feels like a lifetime ago."

Becky's brow furrowed. "I wish I could help."

He smiled softly. "You're here. That's something. Honestly, you're taking the magic stuff better than I did."

"You make it easy to believe anything is possible." She gave him a pointed look. "I mean, I've seen you conjure lightning, Dave. Musical lightning."

Blood rushed to his cheeks, which he covered up with a scoff and a wave of his hand. "It wasn't lighting, it was high-frequency electrical discharge," he muttered. "Too bad I can't use the Tesla coils on Morgana."

Wait...

Gears whirred in Dave's brilliant mind. The Tesla coils. The rings on Horvath's cane. Old Merlin's message. Allie's speech.

Sorcery was science as much as magic.

What if...

The revelation surged through him like lightning, and with similar speed he calculated the components required, the size ratios, the power needed.

"That's it," he breathed. Like the coming dawn, a smile spread across his face. "That's IT!" He turned on his heel and ran toward Merlin.

A cry and a scamper of feet across the marble floor made Merlin turn just in time to see Dave grab him by the shoulders and spin him around, happier than Merlin had ever seen him. "Dave? What – ?"

"I know how to defeat Morgana!"

The whole room stared at him. "How?"

With a mad grin, he pointed to the sky. "Science!"