31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

LANCELOT

Her chestnut curls whipped around her face, her eyes wide with terror as she fell. The golden circlet on her brow pulsed with desperate light, as if trying to summon some latent magic to save her.

My heart thundered in my chest, raw panic clawing at my insides. I'd never known fear like this—not in centuries of battles, not facing down monsters or dark magic.

This was visceral, primal terror that stole the breath from my fucking lungs. I was screaming her name, my throat raw. This wasn’t how we lost her. We wouldn’t lose her. Not now…not fucking ever.

Every word I’d said in anger flooded my mind in a split second, and I took it back. I took it all back. I’d leave Avalon forever if it meant Arthur living to see another day. I’d cut off my own wings if it meant her drawing one more breath.

Gawain's magic had temporarily blinded the giant, coating its massive eyes in a thick layer of frost. The behemoth stumbled back, roaring in confusion and pain. But even with the immediate threat neutralized, I knew with sickening certainty that we wouldn't reach Arthur in time.

My wings beat furiously as I dove towards her falling form. But the distance was too great, the seconds ticking by with merciless finality. Arthur was falling too fast, the unforgiving ground rushing up to meet her.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I pushed myself harder, faster, my muscles screaming in protest. Wind howled in my ears, drowning out the frantic shouts of my brothers. My vision tunneled until my sole focus was Arthur, her arms outstretched towards the sky. Merlin sent a whip of golden magic towards her, but the giant stumbled into the path, knocking Merlin backwards.

Gods no…

Please no…

Just as she was about to hit the ground, Arthur's body suddenly flared with brilliant golden light. She screamed in pain as something burst from her back. She screamed, and the sound reverberated off of the tall canyon walls until it was the only thing I could hear.

Then, a pair of delicate, shimmering wings unfurled from her back in a spray of golden sparks. They looked like spun glass, intricate as a dragonfly's, split into three distinct wing sections on each side, but massive and heavy enough to hold her weight.

The crystalline wings blurred into motion, beating so rapidly they became nearly invisible. Their frantic vibration caught Arthur mid-fall, suspending her in the air mere feet from the ground.

It shouldn’t have been possible. It took decades to learn how to fly with any sense of control. This was something the fae went to lessons to perfect when we were children. But Arthur’s wings caught her, saving her from the crush of the canyon floor.

I landed hard, my knees nearly buckling as I stumbled towards Arthur. My heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Arthur's new wings fluttered uncertainly as she touched down, the delicate crystalline structures catching the light and sending prismatic reflections dancing across the canyon walls.

Her eyes were wide with shock, her chest heaving as she tried to process what had just happened. I reached her in three long strides, cupping her face between my palms. Her skin was flushed and warm beneath my touch, but most of all, alive . Gloriously, miraculously alive.

"Are you hurt?" I demanded, my voice rough. My eyes raked over her, searching for any sign of injury. "Arthur, talk to me. Are you alright?"

She blinked up at me, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, she simply nodded, her hands coming up to grasp my wrists. Arthur trembled as the adrenaline began to ebb. “I-I think I’m alright.”

Around us, the air crackled with tension as my brothers landed, their curses filling the air.

"Fucking gods…" Gawain breathed, his steel-gray eyes wide as he took in Arthur's wings. "That was too damn close."

“Arthur, are you—” Galahad started, but the moment of relief was shattered as the giant let out another earth-shaking roar. The sound reverberated through the canyon, sending loose rocks tumbling down the cliff faces.

Arthur's sword suddenly blazed to life, the blade glowing with an otherworldly light. Her newly formed wings lifted her effortlessly from the ground. She pulled it from its sheath, staring at it with eyes that matched the blade.

For just a moment, it was like staring into the face of an old god.

"The box," Arthur called out, her voice steady despite the chaos around us. "I need to get to that box!"

Without a word, we moved as one, heeding our queen’s command. I took to the air alongside my brothers while Arthur flew in the opposite direction, towards the cliff. Every instinct inside of me told me to go after her. To follow her and leave the giant to the others. But she was my queen, and I was her knight, and I would follow her into the dark no matter what she asked.

Gawain's magic coalesced around his hands as he sent a barrage of razor-sharp ice shards towards the giant's face. The behemoth bellowed in pain and rage, swatting at the air with massive stone hands. He sent the shards spraying right back at us, and we dodged them, just barely.

Percival's shadows writhed and twisted, forming into solid tendrils that wrapped around the giant's legs, attempting to slow its movements. Galahad's magic caused vines and roots to burst from the canyon walls, tangling around its torso. He could only control earthen magic for so long. Merlin’s golden whips lashed at the giant’s face, and each blow was like the crack of thunder, but he managed to chip off pieces of rock one by one as the giant roared.

As we kept the giant distracted, Arthur streaked toward the narrow ledge, her dragonfly-like wings a blur of golden motion. She landed gracefully, snatching up the pulsing box and shoving it into her satchel in one fluid movement.

Her eyes blazed as she launched herself directly at the rampaging giant. I screamed her name, but she didn’t hear me. My breath caught as Arthur soared through the air, dodging the giant's flailing limbs. She landed on its head, her wings folding against her back as she found her footing.

The giant roared in confusion, its massive hands coming up to swat at the tiny figure perched atop its skull. But Arthur was quicker. She raised Excalibur high, the sword's glow intensifying until it the sword's radiance rivaled the sun itself. The giant's hands were inches from crushing her, its roar shaking the walls of the canyon.

But instead of striking the behemoth with a death blow, Arthur plunged Excalibur only partway into the thickest part of its skull and held tightly.

Arthur's voice rang out, clear and commanding, speaking words in a language I hadn't heard in centuries. The ancient tongue of the druids. It was the language of the Old Religion, and it flowed from her lips, each syllable resonating with power.

"Elara lunara, silvenor thalas, ancira melodis!" she shouted, her voice sounding as if she was speaking with a hundred voices at once, each layer on top of the next. She no longer sounded like Arthur Pendragon, but rather a goddess of old.

I command you to sleep, ancient one…