"I am Mordred Pendragon."
It is a thousand thousand years ago. A boy stands at the gates of a city that has been his home since birth. His blond hair sways gently back and forth, tousled by the breeze – his eyes, clear and blue, stare implacably into the distant sunset.
"I am the trueborn heir to Camelot," the boy says, clenching his fists as the words flow from his lips. "This land, these people, this Kingdom…is mine. And I will protect it from foes within or without, whether they call themselves Fae or God or Architect, whether they call themselves Knight or Mage or Queen.
"I will stop them all."
**
Your name is Mordred Pendragon. Before you stands Sa'Lanyah, Ophidian Queen, God-Mother and sole survivor the Lucidian Pantheon. One of the greatest threats mankind has ever known.
"I say yes," you whisper, so quietly that your voice barely reaches your own ears. "Your freedom for the girl."
You can feel it now, in your chest, the energy of fate. Your choice seizes it, changes it, warps it into something hot and powerful that rushes out of you in a wave to change the world around you. This is the power to see empires rise and fall, to decide the fate of whole worlds or merely a single man. There is no magic greater than opportunity taken, or lost.
Sa'Lanyah breathes the power in through her nose, her stolen face twitching with an almost sexual pleasure. She flings her arms wide and her power reverberates through the foundations of the universe, ionizing the very air around you. Gala's body spasms in your arms, blood flowing backwards through time, leaving your face and hands and clothes to return to its rightful place. Her ravaged throat knits itself together again, leaving smooth, unblemished skin where once there was only ruin. She gasps, air rushing deep into her lungs, and suddenly the lights in her eyes flicker and reappear, as if they had never vanished at all. Her eyelids close and she sags in exhaustion, but you can feel her heart beat against her ribs, can hear her breath flow in and out of her lungs.
You cannot bear to tear your eyes away from her face, but somehow you look up at Sa'Lanyah. She gives a white, toothy smile, blue-silver eyes dancing with unbridled glee, and blows you a kiss.
And then she vanishes.
In an instant, Gala is gone from your arms. The gathered guardsmen, the ragtag army you had assembled for the desperate charge on Sa'Lanyah's palace, they vanish as well. In their place is an upscale office, with floor to ceiling windows, dark carpeting, and a large circular table. Across from you sits Ophelia, just as she did a lifetime ago, before you had ever known of Sa'Lanyah's dreamworld.
"Mr. Penn?" She asks, as if it has only been moments since the two of you last spoke. "Is everything alright? You look pale."
**
The bell attached to the door of Occult Ingredients jingles as you make your way inside. Only when the door is firmly shut behind you, when the world outside is safely walled away, do you press your back to the wall and slide slowly to the floor. Your legs and hands are shaking – you cannot stop them, not with all your years of discipline.
Bone and Terri watch you, from behind the counter. They share a look.
"Morgan," Bone says. "We need to talk." You cannot look him in the eye, so you stare instead at the floor between your legs.
"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to speak aloud. It had been all you could do to excuse yourself from the meeting with Ophelia, to promise her you would come when called, to fight the Church of Placid Waters. The Ladies are the furthest thing from your mind right now. You hate how weak you feel. You were stronger than this when you left Camelot, stronger when you roamed the Walls-Between-Worlds, stronger when you returned to your homeland with fire and steel. You were stronger than this when you killed Gala on the castle steps, when you shoved Caledfwlch through her chest and let the Fae poison stunt her healing.
Agony. She had died in agony. Why did you not turn and finish her? Why did you march on?
"Morgan?" Bone asks, snapping you from your memories. "You have to listen if I'm going to talk."
You run a hand through your hair, breathing in and out. "You're right. I'm sorry." You have been dreading this conversation since you left Hanneman and Royce. Bone and Terri would want nothing to do with you now – how could the justify keeping someone like you in their home, after what they had seen in the dreamworld?
"I don't need apologies," Bone says, not unkindly. "I just need you to keep your word. You promised you'd help me with a delivery today, then you disappeared."
You frown, turning the words over in your mind. That's not an accusation, not a fervent demand to leave and never come back. "I…what?"
"I think what you meant is, I'm sorry Bone, it won't happen again. Thank you so much for letting me live in your house rent free," Bone says. "Also, have you been working out? You look so muscular for a man of forty." He flexed his arms, which to his credit, were relatively muscular for a man who had left forty behind decades ago.
"Oh God," Terri said, rolling her eyes. "If you're done with your little parenting speech, can we order the pizza?"
Bone waved her off. "Sure, sure."
"Good, cause I'm
craving pepperoni. Feels years since I've had some."
**
It baffles you, but for the rest of the weekend Terri and Bone give you no indication that they remember anything of the dreamworld, or of the boy named Medraut who wore your face. You spend most of the next two days locked in your room, poring over your identity spell, but can find nothing that would explain this puzzling development.
It's impossible. You had activated Caledfwlch in full view of Terri and Rin, worn it proudly in front of Bone and all the Knights. You had assumed that was the end of Morgan Penn, but here you sit and no-one seems to be the wiser. Is it a parting gift, from Sa'Lanyah? Perhaps your double amused her. But even that would not explain Terri and Bone forgetting the dreamworld completely.
But Talia had said something about your protection spell being a subset of a much larger enchantment – the same enchantment that had been used to invade and alter the memories of those trapped within the dreamworld. Could that have something to do with this? The answer makes sense, but does not wholly satisfy you. It strikes you that despite your reliance on the ritual, it is not a magic you truly understand. Morgana had taught it to you, during one of her nightly visits, under the stars of Camelot. She might be able to shed more light on recent events, and since Terri apparently knew Morgana's current mortal guise, it should not be overly difficult to track her down.
Then again, you Aunt was an unpredictable woman, even in the best of times. And who knows how the last thousand thousand years has changed her? You are not so ignorant that you cannot do your own investigation. If your spell is connected to a larger one, it stands to reason you could trace the connection back to its origins. Find the Source of All Lies in the real world, like you planned to in Sa'Lanyah's dream.
When you fall asleep on Sunday, you dream of a mirror. A boy stares queerly back at you, blond with blue eyes, with shaking hands and quivering knees. You reach through the reflective surface of the mirror and shove Caledfwlch through his ribs.
**
The next week you dedicate to studying and to observing your classmates. None of the rabble seems to be acting strangely, at least as far as you can tell. Certainly there is no talk of sandstone cities or masked empresses. Talia is absent more often than not, and the one day you manage to glimpse her from across the hall she merely gives you a smile, eyes flashing with red lightning. Then she vanishes into the crowd.
The Knights are the only thing that keeps you convinced the whole experience wasn't merely some insane dream. Gemma shows up to school on Wednesday, but leaves ten minutes into her first class, coughing violently. She does not return on Thursday, or Friday. The rest of the Breakfast Club is unusually subdued – they eat their lunches in private, and do not attend their clubs. Still, they give no sign that they know who you really are, and even return your nods as you pass each other in the hallways.
A new week begins. (3 actions) Annabelle, Matthew & Gavin, Conner, Gemma, and Bailey & Piper are all available this week.
[] Annabelle
-Go to a soccer game
[] Matthew & Gavin
-Drink heavily
[] Conner
-Fencing round 2
[] Gemma
-See if she's okay
[] Bailey & Piper
-Paint homecoming banners
[] Investigate the Source of All Lies
-[] Find Morgana
--[] Bring Terri, bury the hachet
--[] Go alone
-[] Trace your ritual's connection
Also, Long Overdue LEVEL UP
+6 stat points
Your experience in the dreamworld, and Gemma's death, has fundamentally altered Caledfwlch. How has your Heraldry mutated?
[] Clear Eyes
-[] Even when not expressed, Caledfwlch will warn you of any lies spoken in your presence.
[] The Subtle Sword
-[] Caledfwlch can cut through the Walls-Between-Worlds.
