Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

TRISTAN

The first time I witnessed the Dawn of the Ancients, I was barely more than a boy, still learning to navigate the intricacies of court life and the responsibilities that came with being a member of the Unseelie nobility. My father, a stern but fair man, had taken me to the sacred grove at the heart of the Unseelie Palace, where the nobility gathered to bear witness to magic at its strongest.

As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, the air seemed to hum with power. The trees whispered to each other, their leaves shimmering with an otherworldly light. In the center of the grove would stand a High Priestess, her eyes aglow with the same molten gold that now shone in Arthur's.

Raw power. Godly power. It was a moment that changed me as a young fae. Before the sight began, before the wars, before the sword was taken to Albion and thrust into the stone. Back when the world was open and new. Before the corruption and greed of kings.

Arthur stood facing the sunrise, her chestnut curls dancing in the gentle breeze that whispered through the forest. The first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of lavender and rose gold, casting an ethereal glow on her freckled skin.

Fuck, she was beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. In over seven hundred years I only loved one female, and it hadn’t lasted long, but something inside me stirred again when I looked at Arthur Pendragon.

She grasped Excalibur; the hilt fit snugly in her delicate hands, its golden light pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat, echoing the magic that hung thick in the air around us. Arthur's gaze, usually warm and soulful, now glimmered with that same molten brilliance, as if she and the sword were entwined in some ancient dance—one was an extension of the other.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Here stood the heir to Camelot, the weight of prophecy draped over her like a cloak, yet she bore it with a grace and strength that seemed far beyond her twenty-four years. In that moment, bathed in the dawn’s glow and the whispers of ancient magic, she embodied every bit of the queen she was destined to be.

The other knights and I gathered in a loose circle around Arthur, our own magic thrumming beneath our skin in response to the energy swirling around us. Lancelot’s flames flickered in his hands, casting playful shadows across his sharp features. Gawain’s eyes sparkled like shards of ice, frost spiraling from his fingertips. Even Percival, usually so stoic, radiated a palpable excited tension. His shadows writhed around him, undulating like smoke.

“It’s as easy as breathing,” I murmured to Arthur, knowing she could hear me over the howling wind. “Remember what we said about guiding it? Make the magic do what you want it to do, not the other way around. The portal will open when you allow it to.”

Arthur turned as I stepped up beside her, Merlin mirroring me on her other side. Her eyes met mine. “There’s no going back, is there?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Not until it’s finished,” I said, shaking my head. “We come back with the Grail or not at all.” Uther wouldn’t allow anything less than that.

Any one of us fae could open a portal to Avalon, but this time, it needed to be her. The riddle was as clear as it could have been, and we couldn’t risk ignoring even the slightest detail. We were here to serve and protect our future queen, but we couldn’t complete the quest on her behalf, no matter how badly I wanted to.

Arthur began to carve the wind rune into the air. The blade seemed to sing as it sliced through the morning mist, leaving trails of shimmering light in its wake. The rune took shape, glowing with an ethereal brilliance that made my eyes water.

As Arthur completed the final stroke, the surrounding air began to stir. At first, it was just a gentle breeze, playfully tugging at our hair and clothes. Then it grew in intensity, whipping the leaves from the trees and sending them spiraling through the air in intricate patterns.

I felt my magic responding to the call, my skin tingling with the raw power. It was intoxicating, like drinking in pure energy with every breath. The same exhilaration was reflected in the faces of my brothers.

The wind continued to build, swirling faster and faster around Arthur until it seemed to take on a life of its own

Then the fabric of reality began to tear. It started as a small pinprick of light, no larger than a candle flame, hovering in the air in front of Arthur. But as she continued to channel the ancient magic, the light grew, expanding and unfurling like a shimmering golden flower.

The portal pulsed with energy, its edges rippling and undulating like the surface of a sun-dappled pond. Through the shimmering veil, I caught a glimpse of Avalon.

Rolling hills of emerald green stretched out as far as the eye could see, dotted with ancient trees whose leaves glittered like precious gems in the perpetual twilight. The sky was lavender and indigo, streaked with ribbons of iridescent light that danced and shimmered like diamonds. In the distance, I could make out the spires of the Seelie Palace where I’d taken my vows to protect the sword.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, so intense it was almost painful. Memories of my youth spent roaming the lavender fields and woods, learning the ways of the fae at my father's side, came rushing back with startling clarity. The scent of night-blooming jasmine, the feel of cool grass beneath my bare feet, the laughter of my brothers and sisters.

As Arthur took a tentative step towards the shimmering portal, the very air around us seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she looked like one of the ancient queens. A goddess of pure, holy fire.

Then she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes finding mine, and I saw the flicker of uncertainty there.

I gave her a small nod, trying to pour all my confidence and faith into that single gesture. "You've got this, Arthur," I said softly, my voice nearly lost in the howling wind. "You were made to travel through worlds. Let it bend to you."

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she turned back to face the portal. With Excalibur held high, she stepped forward, the golden light enveloping her like a lover's embrace. For a heartbeat, she seemed to hover on the threshold, caught between two realms. Then, with a flash of blinding brilliance, she vanished, drawn into the heart of Avalon.

The rest of us moved to follow, but before we could take more than a step, a sudden movement caught my eye. A dark cloud, like a writhing mass of shadows, was rapidly approaching from the east. As it drew closer, I realized with a sinking feeling that it was not a cloud at all, but a seething flock of crows, their inky black forms stark against the lavender sky.

They descended on the portal in a frenzied swarm, their raucous cries piercing the air like shards of glass. I watched in horror as they funneled through the shimmering gateway, their dark forms vanishing into the light one after another.

“It’s Mordred!” Merlin shouted, his voice cracking with fear as he sprinted towards the portal after Arthur.

Fury boiled in my veins. How could we have been so stupid?

My eyes locked with Lancelot's. "She was waiting for the portal. She's after Excalibur!"

Lancelot cursed, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip on his sword. "And if she gets her hands on the sword, she'll claim the Grail too."

I lunged for the portal, my heart hammering against my ribs as I leaped into the shimmering light. The magic engulfed me, searing through my veins like liquid fire. For an instant, I was suspended between worlds, caught in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and sensations.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. I stumbled out onto the emerald grass of Avalon. I spun around, my eyes frantically scanning the landscape for any sign of Arthur. But she was nowhere to be seen. She’d vanished into the vast expanse of the fae realm. A cold knot of fear twisted in my gut. If Mordred found her first...

A flash of movement caught my eye, and I whirled to see Lancelot burst through the portal in a blaze of fire. His eyes were wild, his hair whipping about his face as he raised his hands, flames already flickering to life along his fingertips.

The crows descended on him in a screeching mass of flapping wings and glittering eyes. But Lancelot was ready for them. With a roar of fury, he thrust his hands forward, engulfing the crows in a blistering inferno.

The birds screeched in agony, their feathers smoldering and turning to ash as they tumbled from the sky. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, acrid and nauseating, but Lancelot didn't flinch.

Gawain leaped through the portal a heartbeat later, his hands already coated in a shimmering layer of frost. With a fluid grace, he thrust his arms outward, sending a flurry of razor-sharp icicles hurtling towards the remaining crows. The frozen projectiles found their marks with deadly precision, impaling the birds and sending them plummeting to the ground in a rain of blood and ice.

Percy was last through the portal, his writhing shadows surrounding him like living tentacles. A darkness covered the portal as more birds tried to flood through, blocking their way into Avalon. Percy shouted, gritting his teeth against the onslaught, but the portal was already starting to close, shrinking with every heartbeat.

Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the portal collapsed, the golden light winking out of existence. Percy stumbled backwards, his legs giving out beneath him as he pitched towards the ground. I lunged, catching him around the waist and hauling him upright. He sagged against me, his head lolling onto my shoulder.

The air around us crackled with residual magic, the lingering traces of the portal mingling with the coppery scent of blood. Gawain and Lancelot were already moving, their eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of Arthur or Merlin.

"Arthur!" Lancelot called, his voice echoing through the twilight. "Merlin!"

But only silence greeted us, broken by the mournful whisper of the wind through the ancient trees. The indigo sky stretched out above us, the stars twinkling like diamonds. It would have been breathtaking if not for the gnawing fear that gripped me. She should have been right here waiting.

I closed my eyes, reaching out with my magic, trying to sense Arthur's presence. Now that we were in Avalon, magic was stronger, and I should be able to sense the familiarity of hers. But the land was saturated with power tonight, the very air humming with it, and I couldn't untangle her aura from the ancient threads.

"Spread out," I said, my voice sounding hoarse to my own ears. "They can't have gone far."

We moved through the forest like shadows, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. The trees loomed over us, their trunks twisted and gnarled with age, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. So much older than the trees in Albion. Bioluminescent flowers bloomed in the undergrowth, their petals pulsing with magic.

The eerie call of a familiar horn echoed through the forest, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a sound I hadn't heard in centuries, not since the last time I set foot in Avalon. The horn of the Wild Hunt, blown only when the fae courts rode out to chase down a quarry.

I exchanged a tense glance with Gawain and Galahad who both stood to my right and left, their eyes reflecting the same dread that coiled in my gut. If the Hunt was out tonight, then Arthur was in more danger than we realized. The riders would be drawn to her magic like moths to a flame.

But the bigger problem was who might have sent them.

We moved through the trees with renewed urgency, our senses strained for any sign of Arthur or Merlin. The forest seemed to shift and change around us, the paths twisting and turning in ways that defied logic. It was as if Avalon itself was working against us, trying to keep us from our queen.

Our queen… Because that’s what she was, I realized. Athur was everything a queen should be and more, and fate had decided that I would protect her. That we would keep her safe.

I paused at the base of an ancient oak, its trunk wider than four Albion Oaks put together. The bark was rough beneath my fingertips, thrumming with a deep, primal magic that set my teeth on edge, but at the same time, settled something inside me. I closed my eyes, reaching out with my senses, trying to untangle Arthur's aura from the web of power that permeated the forest.

For a moment, there was nothing. Silence save for the thundering horn of The Wild Hunt. Then, like a distant candle flame flickering to life in the darkness, I felt it. A whisper of Arthur's magic.