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"You can’t be serious,” she says with a huff.
He simply gazes back at her, his face nothing but serious.
"This can't be real, Kade," she hisses. "You're talking about fairytales."
"Legends," Kade corrects. "Fairytales are different and don't usually come from any sort of truth. Legends are born in villages all across the world and sometimes twisted as they’re passed down, but they are entirely real. I'm living proof of that."
Elara’s eyes widen as they roam over his face, seeing that he means what he says. The way she looks him over makes him feel naked. Vulnerable. It's like she's seeing him for the first time, and he can't help but sit up a little straighter even though deep down he's not as worthy of the title of Merlin’s descendent as he would like. He’s had to do too many things he's not proud of.
"We’re literally talking about Excalibur,” Elara says, pushing Kade to finish the story. “So, what did she want you to do down there? How did she prove it?"
He was just getting started.
"I tried to pick it up, but I couldn't. The old woman let me know I wasn't fated to use the sword, but someone in the world was. Only the worthy can lift the sword." Kade hangs his head at the idea. He may have been in Merlin’s lineage, but he’s entirely unworthy of grasping one of the most powerful weapons in existence. He's too corrupt.
"I told her she’d lost her mind. It was just a sword stuck in a rock. Trickery or engineering, but then she told me she could prove it because when Arthur drew the sword from the stone, he mistakenly injured Merlin in the process.”
“But what does that have to do with proving you're a descendent of Merlin?” Elara says, mostly to herself. “Why do I feel like there are so many crazy people involved in this?”
Kade can't help but laugh at her reaction, the movement in his body forcing their knees to fully touch. A zing of electricity shoots through him, but he pretends like it's nothing, even though Elara stops laughing as if she feels it too.
"My thought exactly, but she was right. She told me the scar from the injury was passed down through generations. I didn't have one, but she told me it would only show itself upon touching the sword. Sure enough, there and then, there was a searing pain in my right shoulder."
Kade points to the scar, something that's become second nature now as if it were there from the start. The memory of the pain stings, though. He goes on to explain the rest of the story, Elara not interjecting even as the afternoon fades into the early evening. The memory washes over him, giving him goosebumps.
"Now that you know who you are, it's time for you to find the other people who descend from equally powerful bloodlines," the crone says, circling Kade as if she’s some kind of wild animal toying with prey.
Except, if she wants him to find his destiny, Kade knows she can't truly hurt him. His fear of her is much less than the fear of all the truth piled upon him right now. It's nearly too much. He doesn't want to be alone and aimless, but this isn't the kind of thing he’s been wishing for. Friends and family, those were the things he wants.
"You will be drawn closer to one of the lineages," she continues as if reading off a prophecy. "But you will hit a brick wall because there will be forces trying to conspire against you trying to find it."
A warning; because things can't get any harder, right?
"Eventually, I believe you will find what you're looking for."
"So, who the hell was this crazy old lady?" Elara asks, pulling Kade from the scene playing through his head.
"I think she was the goddess of Fate."
Elara pauses, her breath hitching in her chest before coming in quick gasps. She's overwhelmed, and Kade knows to give her a moment. He wants more than anything to reach out and comfort her. Looking down at her hand, the one she used to touch his knee, Kade snakes his own forward ever so slightly as if she might flinch away and then the moment will be gone.
He can comfort her like this. He can be her friend.
All lies, but he keeps going just the same until he's holding her hand, and she doesn’t pull away.
“Do you know whom I belong to?” Elara asks in a near whisper. “Who I am?”
Kade shrugs. "I don't know. Fate didn't tell me. She doesn't like to meddle too much with the threads. I can say you belong to either the line of Arthur or the line of Morgana."
Elara chokes on her own spit and coughs, trying to process everything he’s told her. This is what Kade was afraid of and why he hasn't shared it earlier. A moment sooner, and it would have been likely she couldn't handle it at all. She would have run from her destiny and from him, dooming them both.
"I’m having a hard time believing all this, Kade," she finally says, though her hand is still clinging to his. She hasn't moved away yet.
"It's a lot, Elara. It's part of the reason why I haven't said too much. Too much at once can make you go mad."
"I sincerely hope I descend from Arthur and not Morgana,” she adds thoughtfully. "Do you really not know?” she asks again, squinting as if it might reveal something underneath Kade's skin. He squirms under the look and nearly lets go of her.
"No, I don't know. Elara.” In fact, his hand tightens around hers. “I'm not just hiding all these things from you to be an ass."
