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I bore witness to my own consumption, piece by piece.
Each bite, each rending of flesh from my fragile bones, registered in my horrified mind with excruciating clarity.
The putrid scent of decay lingered in the air, its origins muddled between the remnants of my own devoured body and the ghastly presence of these macabre children who held me captive within this tormenting hell.
Agony crashes upon me in relentless waves, overwhelming my senses until I could tolerate no more.
With an open mouth, I released a primal scream. The sudden expulsion of air pushed painfully through a ragged hole in my cheek I had not known until then was there.
The echoes of my desperate cries dissipated into the abyss, lost in a realm where pain and terror reigned supreme.
No one was coming for me.
The Temple of the Three, Camelot
“Lancelet!”
The voice was sharp yet tender.
“Lancelet! Wake up!”
Snapping fingers in my ears. I groaned.
A tutting sound. Then the touch of a soft hand on my forehead. “You’re drenched in sweat. It’s just a dream, my dear.” The voice changed to a low mutter, “Only a dream, but your screams are very real and you’re waking up the entire dormitory.”
The words were not accusing. It was simply a statement. The words of a tired woman who had come to my room many times before.
I struggled to open my eyes.
I struggled to remember.
I didn’t want to remember.
My eyes opened. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the Temple of the Three in Camelot. I am Merlin. You are Lancelet. You are safe.” The last three words were said very slowly and with infinite tenderness. As if they had already been spoken many times before.
“Safe,” I echoed. “No.”
“Yes,” Merlin said firmly, putting a hand on mine and squeezing. “Safe. You are safe.”
“They’ll come through. They’ll come after me. They’ll follow.” I heard the panic in my own voice. I recognized the irrationality. She had already argued with me many times before.
“You know they won’t. They haven’t yet and it has been nearly two weeks. If they had found the arch, if they could have used it, they would have done so long before now, Lancelet, believe me. Please, believe me.”
She sounded so weary. Had I made her so? I forced myself to look at her. Really look.
When I did, I was aghast.
Merlin, High Priestess of the Temple of the Three Sisters, Keeper of the Sacred Flame, Oracle of the Secret Mysteries, and Guardian of the Celestial Sanctum, gazed upon me wearily. The white strands in her hair had become more prominent, intermingling with her once vibrant ebony hair in a braid that encircled her proud head. Draped in her flowing pure white temple robes, exhaustion permeated her posture. Dark shadows beneath her eyes revealed the weight of countless ordeals.
“Merlin, you look dreadful.”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Thank you, my dear.”
“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I only meant...”
She gave my hand another gentle squeeze. “I know how I look, Lancelet. Believe me. It is a price I willingly pay.”
