The year: 921

Camelot,
Albion

[Merlin's POV]

When I saw Skarla, the ussa Morgana had rescued from Yoke barely ten years ago, standing up to Akurra- who was seven or eight times its size- I was enamored.

Though Skarla was holding her own for now, I could sense that she wouldn't be able to for much longer. It was only the second time that I had seen her, but I could tell that whoever she was with- I suspected it to be Morgana- they had taken good care of her. 

Meanwhile, Arnica took cover behind an elm tree from where she could watch the entire sight clearly. 

'Arnica, I need to hide our bodies, or Akurra will destroy them.' I shared my thoughts with the mighty eagle feeling less than optimistic. 

Shortly after, while praying to the high priestess Nimueh to guide me and show me a way, I had a Deja Vu when a tear appeared out of nowhere, and out walked a masked man wearing purple robes. 

I was sure it was the same man I had met years ago in the enchanted forest while rescuing Morgana, the lad who had called himself a friend. Recalling that he had left with Skarla that day, I wondered if it was not Morgana but him that had been taking care of the ussa this whole time, only handing it over to Morgana recently. 

While I mulled over how my friend could help me, Skarla started to back away from Akurra, closing the distance between herself and the purple-robed lad. 

When the ussa was barely an arm's length away, the purple-robed man whispered, "Confurion!" surrounding us in thick white fog. It made the two magical creatures stop breathing fire. 

"Who's there!?" Akurra growled. It was the same voice the serpent had used when it had turned everything around my hideout into ash. The act confirmed my suspicion that the ancient creature I had known, respected, and befriended for most of my adult life was gone. This, whoever it was, reeked of evil and had apparently set its sights on me (possibly Morgana too).  

The one controlling Akurra's body advanced towards me; a clicking sound followed before he breathed fire again, making Skarla kneel on her hind legs. 

The fog cleared, but to my surprise, there was no sight of our bodies or the masked friend who had created the distraction. It was probably him that had made our primordial forms disappear. 

Akurra hissed, its agitation clear from the way its nostrils flared, anger radiated from its pores, and his eyes turned blood red. Any self-respecting serpent who thought it could pass off for a dragon would have behaved similarly after letting the prize slip through its clutches. 

With renewed vigor, it attacked. I wanted to help Skarla, I really did, for the tiny one was struggling, but if my gut about what had happened to Akurra was right, I could rest assured that he would never be able to kill the innocent, untainted ussa. 

As Arnica flew lower, trying to catch a glimpse of the creatures, my link to the eagle grew weaker. Without my body, I was a mere shadow of my powerful self. There was no way I could take on the serpent. It looked like I was fighting a losing battle. If I couldn't stop Akurra now, Camelot would be destroyed. What about my friends? What about Guin? I had promised Arthur to take care of them. Would I have to live my life knowing that I had not only failed to protect him but his beloved Camelot as well!? 

Before the thought could run its course, I heard a familiar voice call my name. My connection to Arnica broke abruptly. It should have made my conscience return by Morgana's side in my hideout, but I found myself in Lastshire instead. It was a place my ancestors hailed from and where those chosen by fate learned magic. I, too, had received my training there, learning the craft under the then-high priest, Viljar, before arriving at King Atherol's court in Willsden.

Hearing my true name: Myrddin, made me turn and brought me face to face with my father. 

That couldn't be him, could it? My father was dead, or so I was told by Akurra years ago. 

Dressed in eerily-familiar shimmering black robes, he gestured to me to approach him. "Son," he called, dragging me out of my thoughts, "You don't have much time. So listen well. The fate of Albion and Lastshire depends on what you do next."

All of it was surely not real. There was no way I could have entered this place without the stone of Erer. Nonetheless, whoever this man was, a hallucination or otherwise, he knew about the existence of Lastshire and my true name. I thought that only my parents and I knew it. Was I wrong? 

"Akurra's last words to you were true. In the future, when Albion is about to fall, Arthur shall rise again." The man who looked like my father spoke in a solemn tone. "You have a long wait ahead of you, my son. The one you saw, the other Emrys, is the one destined to find Arthur. He is your descendant. He is a Wyllt. Two times you have seen him, and two times he has aided you in your past. It's a past that is his future. Do you understand, son?"

I shook my head, wondering if I had fathered a child without my knowledge. 

Reading my mind, or so it seemed, the one who looked and sounded like my father replied, "The nymph you saved from Uther five years ago is the one that will carry your legacy, Merlin."

I recalled the incident with a heavy heart; the nymph with gray eyes and dark hair had reminded me of Morgana, who I knew to be out of my reach. 

When the nymph, whose name I had failed to ask, had tried to pay me in kind, I hadn't resisted. Come morning, I had woken up in bed alone with her nowhere in sight.  

"Cirilha doesn't blame you, son; she loves the child. The boy, your son, looks just like you; he was born and raised here until recently," my father's eyes turned fond. A soft smile tugged at the edges of his lips, "The nymph was instructed by Nimueh to leave him in the mortal realm with your cousin in Blimpot. He has adopted the boy. I can assure you that he will have a good life."

It was all too much to take. All of a sudden, I had a son. A family that never was. How could this man assure me that my son would be looked after!?

"Magic and humanity, son. Your cousin is a good man. I little naive, but good nonetheless."

The way he said it, I could tell that that was all I would ever know about my cousin or son from him. 

"For now," my father said, the smile dropping from his lips, "to keep you and Morgana safe, you need to submit the stone of Erer and the gateway to him."

The more my father spoke, the more it confused me. I was about to voice my thoughts when another, slightly plumper version of me walked out of the woods surrounding Lastshire and stood before me. 

Directing a shy smile at me, he bowed, "Master Merlin, I, Marty Wyllt, from Oadley, am from the future. You are my master, and Lady Morgana is my mistress. I am sorry that I ignored you a lot at the beginning of our journey; I hurt you with my words, but you never gave up on me. I am grateful that you didn't." My lookalike, Marty (what sort of name is that!?), confessed. This time too, I did not feel threatened by him in any way. Nonetheless, I couldn't believe the nonsense the boy was sprouting. 

"Everyone knows that an apprentice can only belong to one master."

"That's true, Master, but you see, you and Lady Morgana are," the boy- now that I had had a closer look- did not really look like me all that much, paused, chewed on his lips, and smirked, "A package deal!"

What in God's bones did 'A package deal' mean!? 

"You have protected the Wyllt family for over a thousand years," the boy went on; I think he had assumed that I had understood him perfectly, "and now it's time for me to save you. But I can't do it unless you cooperate. So, I humbly request you to surrender the stone of Erer and the right to protect the gateway to me."

I was about to refuse when Morgana, dressed in all-white, joined him. 

"Merlin," she whispered my name fondly, "I know there was a time when we were enemies, but we have moved past that long ago. You betrayed me once, and I hurt you right back. If you want to make it up to me, just do as Marty says. He is a good kid with a big heart. Let him take care of us now, so we might return the favor in the future."

I wanted to believe her; I truly did, but I was not convinced.

I caught Morgana glancing at my father before she added, "Merlin, the sword that killed Akurra was Excalibur," she reached as if to hold my hand but changed her mind halfway through. 

"That can't be! I had hidden it in Avalon Lake." I shook my head, "Only a Wyllt can retrieve it."

"Yes, it is true," my father agreed, and catching my eyes, he added, "Lancelot is a Wyllt by blood, Merlin." 

"That's not possible; he isn't a Wyllt. Lancelot is dead. He was my friend and the first to give his life for Arthur at the battle of Camlann. He was on our side. He couldn't have-"

My father shook his head, "Think about who told you that Lancelot was dead? I am sure you won't be able to recall it?"

I felt a lump form at the place my chest used to be. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't remember who had told me that Lancelot had died, but if he was the one who had pulled out Excalibur, then that would mean he was a powerful sorcerer who could create illusions. 

I was still not done wrapping my mind around what my father had said when he spoke again. "Even if you do not believe it, it's the truth. He is as much a Wyllt as you are."

At that moment, anger and betrayal blanketed me for a completely different reason. Darkness descended upon my heart. 

"Who was it? Who did you leave us for!?" I fumed. Though I had asked the question, I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer.

Was this why my father had left us? Did he want to start a new life with someone else? Had he fallen for someone, or did he have another motive? 

My father stayed silent; my world grew darker. A rustling sound from somewhere behind me made me turn. I watched Nimueh walk out of the forest with a firefly fluttering around her. 

"Tell him the truth, Balinor," she commanded and gestured to my lookalike and Morgana to leave. 

When only the three of us remained, the high priestess spoke again. "Lancelot's soul has been tainted. I am not sure who told him about his lineage, but Balinor can attest that the once-knight has magic... dark magic, and he is not afraid to use it. He must have paid a high price to bring Arthur down."

"What do you mean!?" my fists clenched at my sides. What did The high priestess mean by 'bring Arthur down'? Why would our friend want that? It was still hard for me to believe that the enemy in the shadows was Lancelot. 

"Do you think that The shield of protection you had cast on Arthur could be broken easily? No, Merlin. Powerful magic runs in your veins, just like it does in mine."

I caught Nimueh's dark eyes. They were pained. It felt like the calm before the storm, "Like yours?"  

Tears slipped out of her eyes and turned into rubies that fell to the ground and broke into a million pieces, "You are my son, Merlin."