CHAPTER TWO
-ARTHUR-
Just Before the Announcement of the Shadow Trials
As the midnight bells echoed through Camelot, I wrapped myself in my robe and slipped from the shadows of my chambers.
Each step down the stone corridors felt heavier than the last, yet I moved with purpose. The moon hung high above as I crossed the courtyard, the flickering torches lining the path.
My destination lay at the far side of Camelot—nestled within the crumbling remnants of the old castle.
Once a proud stronghold, it had succumbed to the relentless passage of time, and history had not been kind.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a testament to the centuries that had passed since its grandeur.
Just below the turret, the old courtyard sprawled out, now a wild labyrinth of neglect and nature's reclaiming touch.
Weeds tangled in the cobblestones, breaking through the cracks like rebellious spirits refusing to be subdued.
Tall grasses swayed gently in the night breeze, while the remnants of stone benches lay half-buried, their surfaces mottled with moss and lichen, silent witnesses to the laughter and camaraderie that had once filled this space.
In the center of the old courtyard stood a solitary tree, older than any living soul within these walls.
Its gnarled branches stretched like skeletal fingers against the night sky.
This tree remained a relic of the wild, untamed past of Camelot—connected to Blodeuwyn, the witch of the Whispering Wilds.
Its deep roots wound their way through earth and stone, a lifeline between our worlds.
Time melted away as I approached the tree, each step quiet and deliberate.
When I reached the tangled old thing, I rested my palm against the cold, rough bark, feeling the thrumming pulse beneath my touch.
The ancient wood creaked, the knots in its trunk twisting and reshaping until they formed a crude visage—a mouth set to speak.
"Blodeuwyn," I called to her.
“Arthur Pendragon,” the tree responded immediately, the wood groaning as if burdened with our communication. "King of Logres."
“I need answers.” My voice was sharp, revealing my disdain for anything to do with this blasted witch. But this conversation was necessary. She was necessary.
"Answers carry a price." The ancient voice rumbled through the twisted wood, each word deliberate and weighted. The bark beneath my palm grew warm, almost feverish, as if the tree itself anticipated our bargain.
"I am not interested in paying anything. I am king."
"Knowledge flows both ways—what you seek to learn must be balanced by what you are willing to sacrifice."
I felt my eyes narrow of their own accord. "I will leave pure gold coins at the mouth of the Whispering Wilds."
The ancient tree erupted into a laugh that was a horrid sound, like the breaking of bones. "What use have I for the trivial currencies of men?"
I pulled my hand back from the rough surface, my jaw tightening as irritation flared within me.
Blodeuwyn always grated against my nerves with her riddles and half-truths, never offering a straight path when a twisting one would suffice.
Tonight, with shadows gathering and uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my reign, I had no patience for her games.
"Enough with your riddling words, witch. What the bloody hell do you want from me? Name your price plainly."
"You will come to visit me in the flesh when next you require my counsel."
The suggestion sent a chill through me, as seeking her out in person meant venturing deeper into the Whispering Wilds than any sane man would dare, past the protective wards of Camelot and into territories where her influence held sway.
It meant abandoning the safety of these ruins, where I could maintain some semblance of control, some distance from her manipulations.
"In the flesh," I repeated slowly, tasting the words like poisoned ale.
The phrase carried undertones that made my skin crawl—Blodeuwyn was no ordinary witch bound by mortal limitations.
Her physical form was a thing of nightmare, terrifying and terrible in equal measure, capable of driving men to madness with a single glance. But I had no other option.
"Do we have an agreement?"
I swallowed hard. "We do."
The tree broke into a horrible rendition of a smile. “What shade of darkness calls you to me now then?”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice as if the tree itself were my enemy. It was not. Blodeuwyn, though, was another story. “I have done as you instructed—I’ve starved the dragon of any and all magic in Logres."
"Have you?"
"Yes. This kingdom is magically sterile—a dead zone. And it has been for years.” The image of the tree’s carved face remained still, but the air vibrated with Blodeuwyn's interest. “I've outlawed magic—just as you advised—in order to suppress the dragon," I continued. "Yet the beast stirs.”
The tree was silent for a moment, and in that instant, I could have sworn the expression carved into the tree's ancient bark shifted as if it were deep in contemplation.
“Ah—yes, the ley lines awaken beneath your feet.”
Her response only fueled my anger. It was not the reaction I wanted, nor expected.
"When you sealed the dragon within the dragonmark, you explicitly assured me that the ley lines would lie dormant as long as the beast was starved of magic.
You insisted that the ley lines would not activate and the seal would remain unbroken so long as I maintained control over the magic coursing through Logres—I have done that!
" I spat the words, each emerging like venom, bitter and seething with frustration.
"Perhaps you have not done a thorough job ridding the land of magic."
I shook my head. "The last outburst of magic occurred in Eldenvale three years ago. Since then, there have been very few disturbances." I breathed in deeply as something occurred to me. "Unless it is the mere existence of the Whispering Wilds that has awakened the dragon?"
The Whispering Wilds were the only location where magic still ruled—where the forest was, for all intents and purposes, alive. But other than Blodeuwynn, who lived there, there was no magic being practiced because the forest itself was magic.
"The Wilds do not exist in the ley lines that threaten to awaken the beast," Blodeuwynn responded. It was the same reason Merlin's magic that fueled the Standing Stones didn't feed the dragon.
"Then I have canceled all magic in Logres, and yet the dragon still stirs."
"Curious, that."
Her nonchalant manner infuriated me. Did she fail to grasp that this was a matter of survival for me, just as it had been for my father? That not only was my sanity at risk, but so was all of Logres if the dragon prevailed and overtook the dragonmark and me.
"You said my laws could contain it, and while I have done everything I could to uphold my end of this precarious bargain, the dragon grows stronger every day, gnawing at the threads of my sanity."
"A dragon is not a creature easily contained, Arthur Pendragon."
"Do not patronize me."
"I should never think of doing such a thing." The tree revealed a half-smile.
"Have you released it? Have you broken the containment spell and freed the beast?"
"If the beast had been freed, we would not be having this conversation."
Because we would all be dead.
"Have you upset the balance then… in some way?" I rephrased my question.
"I have not."
"Then why—" My voice cracked despite my efforts to maintain my composure.
The words caught in my throat while I struggled against the rising panic that threatened to consume me entirely.
"Was it Merlin? Is he the one stirring the dragon from its slumber?
Has Merlin found a way to manipulate the ley lines? "
"No one is powerful enough to manipulate ley lines."
"Then what of his end of the bargain? Has he spoken of the beast and broken his word? Is that why the beast stirs?"
At the thought that Merlin had violated his oath—the pledge of secrecy he'd sworn, that we'd all sworn when the dragonmark was placed upon me—a covenant sealed in sorcery and blood—I experienced a wave of pure rage.
No one could find out the truth—that a beast lurked within me—a beast that was slowly draining my sanity in its attempt to take full control of me.
If anyone knew the truth, not only would I be dethroned, but I would be put to death immediately—in an attempt to kill the dragon.
Which, of course, would only release it.
The carved face in the ancient bark remained impassive, offering no comfort in its wooden silence. When Blodeuwynn finally spoke, her voice carried the maddening indifference of someone who had witnessed countless kings rise and fall like autumn leaves.
"Who am I to say?"
"You are the only person who can say!" My fists clenched so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
"You brought the fucking thing to life in the first place—you melded it with my father's essence—you cursed our bloodline with this monstrous inheritance!
If anyone possesses the knowledge to understand what's happening now, it's you! "
The witch's presence seemed to ripple through the air, and suddenly it felt as if she were standing right next to me. But when I looked, there was nothing and no one there.
"I am not the earth mother, little kingling." I could almost hear the belittling smile in her voice. "I cannot create life from nothing, even if you believe I possess the power to do so. The dragon existed long before the earth bore me. And it shall endure past humanity's final hour."
"Then what the fuck do I do?"
"The land wrestles beneath your feet, Arthur. Ancient forces stir that have slept since before your grandfather's grandfather drew breath. I cannot still the earth's restless breathing or cease the surge of power that flows through the ley lines. I do not possess such power."
"That helps me not at all."