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And detonated it.
Percival screamed, falling to his knees, the magic lancing through his veins, setting his flesh alight. He howled in pain, collapsing to the ground, as the power dissipated, but not before the stench of burning flesh filled his throne room.
It had crawled up along his chest, covered part of his face and his throat, and likely left his torso in quite a state. He was alive. But he might not wish he was.
Mordred stared down at him coldly. He would not take pleasure in the man’s pain. He would not laugh or rejoice. It was nothing to be proud of.
It was merely penance paid.
Mordred turned from the four men and left the room. He prayed he would never have to see their faces again.
When morning came, Gwen didn’t know what to expect. But she expected a little more pomp and circumstance than what seemed to be in store.
The Iron Crystal—suspended from a giant, seven-legged iron spider—loomed outside the keep’s walls.
“Holy—holy fuck—” She couldn’t help but stare at it as she walked beyond the keep’s walls with Mordred, Galahad, Doc, and Zoe that morning. It resembled Tiny in its style, with strange, twisted, tangled, almost vine-like construction of panels of armor that made no sense that they could move the way that it did. It was at least thirty or forty feet tall, with the Crystal shard hanging from its rib cages by wires. Its eyes were glowing the same opalescent and eerie tone that all Mordred’s creations had.
She glanced at him. “Dude, you need therapy.”
He chuckled quietly, but he said nothing. His eyes were fixed upon the Iron Crystal. Gwen couldn’t say she blamed him.
There was motion by the woods—elementals, come to watch the proceedings. Come to watch Mordred be imprisoned in his own creation.
“I will take the Crystal somewhere safe,” Zoe announced. “It shall not remain here.”
At that, Mordred turned his attention to the Gossamer Lady. “And why not?”
“I fear I do not trust Gwendolyn’s intentions.” Zoe looked at Gwen mournfully. “She is stubborn and in love. Two of the most dangerous things a person can be. And to be honest…I know what I would do in her place.”
Mordred sighed. “Very well. It will make no difference to me.”
“Can—can I visit it? From time to time? I—” Gwen didn’t like the idea of him being hidden somewhere out in Avalon. At the very least, she wanted to be able to sit outside his cage and know that he was in there, somewhere.
Suffering.
“I will bring it forth at your request,” Zoe replied.
Mordred took a step toward the Crystal. “Let us end this.”
“Wait—” Gwen ran toward him, her vision blinded by tears. “No?—”
Mordred turned to her, and she saw his own eyes were glistening. Throwing her arms around his neck, she was hefted off her feet as he caught her lips with his own. He set her back down, resting his forehead against hers, one metal gauntlet stroking against her cheek. “I must go, Gwendolyn.”
“I—please—don’t—I—” Her voice choked off. She couldn’t find her words. There were only three that mattered. “I love you?—”
“And I you.” He kissed her forehead, his voice lowering. “Do not make me endure a longer parting. I will not shed tears in front of my enemies.”
Nodding weakly, she supposed she could let him keep his dignity. She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I…can’t.”
“You can. You will be strong.” He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “You already are.” He kissed her. One last time. For a very long time. “I will see you soon.”
Soon.
Right.
Mordred turned from her, pulling the dark hood of his cloak over his head. He walked toward the Iron Crystal.
It happened quickly. And not like Lancelot. For that, Gwen was relieved.
