When Uther Pendragon wanted to make a point, he made it as sharp as possible.

It was midday. With bone-chilling thuds, the executioner's ax fell upon the necks of three accused sorcerers, severing their heads from their bodies. The blood dripped through the stocks and spread across the smooth stone ground. All Emrys could do was watch in horror as the heads were mounted on tall spikes in the palace square for all to see.

Three boys who'd barely reached manhood, now dead for being menaces and troublemakers. The severed heads stared at the crowd with blank eyes and slack expressions. Crimson blood trickled down the wooden spikes while the bodies were taken away to be burned.

The king did not give second chances—especially not to anyone who practiced magic. Sorcery would be dealt with swiftly and remorselessly—and publicly.

Every time that blade was used, a growing uneasiness slithered through Emrys like a heavy mist she could no longer ignore. Camelot had once been peaceful and prosperous and magical—but now someone with a taste for blood was seated upon the throne.

The castle glittered before the crowd like a massive golden crown, its spires rising high up into the cloudless blue sky. It was set in the direct center of the upper town, a walled city two miles wide and deep. Inside, cobbled roads led to villas, businesses, taverns, and shops. Only the privileged and important were able to make this part of the city their home. But today, the gates had opened to all who wished to see the execution.

"There were more than usual today," said Emrys as she shifted her attention from the impaled heads. For three weeks she'd attended an execution and it had done little to reassure her of her own fate.

Such deaths would be considered by most to be destiny. The druids that Emrys had grown up with believed that their futures were set and that they had to accept what they were given—be it good or bad.

Emrys, of all people, knew that everyone's destinies were written in stone. But stone could be broken, and destinies could change. And that was what Emrys was going to do.

"It is the king's birthday." Silas' voice was hard to separate from the incessant chatter of the throng.

The crowd hushed for the briefest of moments before swelling murmur rose again. King Uther had emerged onto the balcony—a tall, handsome man with piercing blue eyes that chilled Emrys' spine every time he glanced over her.

The regal-looking Princess Morgana joined her father on his left side. Her dark black hair was curled around her fair face; her skin shone like a shimmering pearl. She didn't look at the impaled heads.

The crowd cheered as a young man joined the others on the balcony. It was the first time Emrys had ever seen him, but she knew who he was: Arthur Pendragon, crown prince to King Uther's throne. Arthur was a near mirror image of his father, but younger, of course, and with golden hair that caught in the sunlight.

A drunken voice from the crowd shouted out, loud enough to be heard over everyone else: "Fools! Every last one of you! You think he means to unite us as a happy kingdom? Lies! The King is driven only by greed and a lust for power! He's trying to destroy magic! He must be stopped, or we're all doomed!"

Silence fell.

Emrys' gaze shot toward the king to see if he'd heard.

He had. With a flick of the king's hand, four guards marched toward the crowd, located the man, and wrenched him forward so forcefully that he fell to his knees just left of where the severed heads were on display. When he tried to rise, a guard pushed him back down. The empty bottle he clutched in his right hand fell to the ground.

The man wore what looked like finely tailored clothes that had slowly tattered to rags. His face held a few weeks' worth of a dark beard and he smelled as if he hadn't bathed in the same amount of time. His eyes were glazed with however much wine he'd consumed, but otherwise were fiercely fixed on those who now faced him.

"My name is Noren Wetherson," cried the man. "I have suffered personally at your hand, Uther Pendragon, because of your wretched hatred of magic!"

"Camelot's future will not benefit from the use of magic."

"If you truly believe that, then you've damned us to a future of pain—but I assure you, yours holds the very same! And may the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if, by today's end, my words have not come true!"

Noren's sea green eyes lost its blue. "Gadewch i'r tywydd yr haf, maent, yn carcarem circumvertentem!"

Emrys could feel the shift of power in the earth; feel her magic yearn to bind itself to this power—this magic. Her insides opened themselves to the magic around her, suddenly revealing all of the auras around her. At first the mix of colors blinded her, but after a moment, her vision adjusted. Noren's aura was as bright a yellow as the sun, a warning of the dangerous spirit that rested inside of him.

Emrys turned to look at the balcony, and nearly jumped when she saw the silver eyes above the castle. She knew that it was the eyes of the Great Dragon that she had envisioned. She tried to touch the Great Dragon's spirit with her magic, reaching out to him with her very being.

With a sudden snap! Emrys was forced out of her connection to Noren's magic. The earth had given him the power he needed to cast his spell. A spiral of wind forced the guards away from Noren and whipped around his gray cloak. With a laugh as the crowd ran from him, Noren disappeared from sight.

The king tried to soothe the troubled crowd and ordered the guards to conduct another witch-hunt. He swore to protect the kingdom from the evils of sorcery.

"Emrys," said Silas, placing his hand on the small of her back, "we should return now."

The thought of going into the castle after the execution sickened Emrys. Besides, she had to find the Great Dragon. "If it's alright with you, Uncle, I'd prefer to stay out a while longer."

"That's fine, but no more than an hour, Emrys—you still haven't completed your chores! And, Emrys, this time, stay within the walls."

Emrys nodded and followed the cobbles into the lower town, where the simplest of citizens resided—and where the dreaded wall ended. Unlike the gates to the upper town, there were no castle guards at the forest entrance. There were only the volunteers from the lower town, and they were more than willing to let Emrys pass if she promised to bring back flowers for them.

Emrys hated to lie to Silas, but there was no helping it this time. She had to find the Great Dragon. Emrys just knew she was close to finding him, but she wished she knew how close she was. There were only so many places the Great Dragon could be in Camelot; and there was only one place Emrys hadn't searched yet: the dark woods, where the Great Dragon's eyes had just appeared.

The only birds that sang in the dark woods were the ravens. They screeched at Emrys as she passed them, alerting the forest of her presence. Strangely, Emrys did feel as if she was being watched by her surroundings. With each step, her heart beat faster and faster.

Emrys tried to hold on to her courage, but the snapping of the twigs around her forced her to turn around and return to the path. Maybe she would be able to convince one of the guards to accompany her the next time she wanted to go. Thinking about the guards made Emrys remember to grab a handful of dandelions for them. After she'd passed out the flowers, she realized she had an extra one.

Emrys folded the flower into her skirts and followed the side streets through the upper town—anywhere that wouldn't take her too close to the palace. It was bad enough she could see the cursed thing from her bedroom window.

"You're back much earlier than I expected," said Silas when she entered the villa.

Emrys smiled. "If you stopped thinking I was so reckless, I wouldn't surprise you so much."

"I suppose I do owe you an apology. I'd assumed that you'd gone outside the walls again."

"Well, I'm not entirely innocent." She placed the extra flower on the book he was reading. "I did go out and pick this for you."

Silas glanced at the yellow weed, suddenly seeming much older. His almond-colored skin folded just above his eyebrows as he let out an exasperated sigh. "I should've known," he whispered. "Don't forget your chores, Emrys."

She grimaced. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"I'd like for you to finish those quickly. I need you to accompany me to the castle later this afternoon."

This time, Emrys couldn't suppress her groan. "I'm afraid I'm still not in the mood to visit the castle. And, quite frankly, I don't know how you can go either. I don't understand why you serve Uther so loyally after he's caused this kingdom so much pain and distress."

"Emrys!" Silas shook his head disapprovingly. "There are many things I allow you to do under my roof, but treason is not one of them. Despite any mistakes he has made, Uther is still our king, and he deserves our respect."

Emrys didn't believe that, but she didn't argue with Silas any further. "My apologies, Uncle."

"We'll go to the castle after you've finished your chores. Hurry, please."

Emrys did as he asked. Her room wasn't half as clean as she'd remembered it being that morning—but that could be easily fixed. Emrys shut the door and raised her hands to the clutter of books and clothes on her floor.

Nothing happened. The books didn't move, the clothes didn't put themselves away, and Emrys' eyes didn't glow the way they usually did when she used magic.

Instead, darkness fell over her, and Emrys collapsed.

Rays of sunshine warmed her skin with the heat of a summer's day. And slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision. The colors were so vivid and bright that she had to shield her eyes until she became used to the unexpected intensity.

Emrys looked down, realizing that her simple dress had transformed into flowing white silk, a beautiful gown with gold embroidery at the edges of the bodice.

A cluster of fragrant trees circled her. The scent of wildflowers filled the warm air. Soft grass pressed against her palms as she pushed herself up enough to take in her surroundings.

At first glance, the tree that sat in front of her appeared to be like any other, but a second revealed that it wasn't. The tree was much larger than anything Emrys had ever seen—maybe even tall enough to look down on the castle itself. The tree shimmered as if made from crystal, the branches sweeping to the ground like delicate glass feathers. The grass underneath it was not only emerald green, but was swirled together with silver and gold as if each blade had been dipped in precious metal. The lake that rested within the tree's trunk sparkled in the daylight as if coated in diamonds.

It was all so strange and beautiful that for a long, breathless moment Emrys couldn't look away.

"Where am I," she whispered.

"Welcome to the Great Tree of Avalon, Emrys."

Her head whipped back in the direction of the trees to see that a young man was approaching. She fought to rise to her feet as quickly as possible, scrambling back from him a few steps.

"Stay back!" she warned. Her heart beat like a wild thing trapped in her chest. "Don't come any closer."

"I mean you no harm."

Emrys opened her magic but didn't see anything to determine his aura. Why would she believe him? She clenched her fist and summoned fire magic. Her hand burst into flame. "I can't promise the same if you dare to take another step."

He was five paces away from her. He cocked his head and studied her hand as if fascinated. "Fire magic is the most unpredictable piece of magic. You should be careful how you choose to wield it."

"And you should be careful when sneaking up on me if you don't want to be burned."

All Emrys could do was stare at the single most beautiful boy she'd seen in her entire life. Tall and lean, with golden skin, his hair burnished bronze, his eyes the color of dark silver. He wore a loose white shirt and white pants and he stood barefoot upon the soft grass.

"I witnessed what you did the last time you used fire magic," he said casually, as if they were having a regular conversation. "Your village elders tried to force you to use your magic in their presence. You almost reduced everything to ash."

Emrys was still haunted by the smell of burning flesh and tortured screams. "How could you have known that?"

"You'd be surprised what I know about you, Emrys. My name is Baelfire. I am one of those known to mortals as dragons. I've watched over you since you were an infant."

"Dragon." The word caught in her throat and her gaze snapped back to his. "You're a dragon?"

"Yes."

"If you're a dragon, why do you seem so…"

"Mortal?"

"I was going to say 'human', actually."

"I can't travel through your dreams in my true form."

"Your true form?"

Baelfire smiled. "Watch me." He stepped backward and raised his hands to his sides. There was a swirling around him, blurring his image for a moment, the air shifting, shimmering, turning.

The next moment, his arms were wings, his skin sporting golden scales that shone beneath the sunlight. With a flap of these wings, he took flight. He hovered over her for a moment or so before descending. Before he touched the ground, he shifted back into the form of a young man. He looked down at himself.

"Usually when I shift form, I don't retain my clothing. It's the only difference you would note in the waking world."

"Then I suppose I should be thankful this is only a dream." Emrys changed the subject to avoid thinking about what Baelfire would've looked like in reality without his coverage. "So this is a dream," she said. "And this place? You said it's the Great Tree of Avalon?"

"This is a copy of the forest where the Tree takes root."

"I've never heard of the Great Tree of Avalon."

"Most mortals haven't."

"Is that why you chose to meet me here?"

"I needed to see you, to introduce myself, and to tell you that I can be of assistance to you. I have wanted to do this for so long."

"Then why have you only introduced yourself now?"

"It wasn't the right time before. Although, believe me, of those of my kind, I'm not the most patient. It's been difficult to wait, but I'm introducing myself now. I can help you, Emrys—and you can help me."

"Help you?"

Baelfire cocked his head again. "You can put out the fire, Emrys. I mean you no harm today, I assure you."

With a focused thought, Emrys snuffed out the fire and returned her hand to her side. "How can I help you?"

"You are the sorceress I've been waiting a millennium for."

"That you've been waiting for?"

Baelfire nodded. "Your destiny is tied to my world—the Other World. It's tied to Camelot, to Arthur, to me. Your destiny is tied to the Prophecy, and it always has been."

A wave of nausea rolled over Emrys, as it always did when someone mentioned her destiny. "You've watched me because of the Prophecy."

"Yes. Many didn't believe, but I did. And I waited until you came to Camelot before I could talk to you. To guide you. To help you. Your magic will make the difference to me, to the Other World."

Emrys shook her head. This wasn't what she wanted! "You drew me into this dream because you said you could help me. How?"

"I know you want to escape from your destiny; I can grant your wish, Emrys. After you help me, of course."

"Oh, I'm sure," she scoffed. "Is death the escape you're talking about? Because I should warn you I already know that part of the Prophecy." Saying it out loud gave way to the fear that she had been able to hide so well.

"You think you are only destined to do one great thing in your lifetime? You know only a small piece of what has been planned for your life. I know every bit of it!"

"But do you know enough to stop death? How do you propose to fix that?"

Baelfire smiled and said, "By making you immortal, Emrys."

Emrys froze, but only for a moment. "That's impossible."

"It is not. I've seen it done before. And in return for granting you eternal life, you must promise me, Emrys, that you will return the favor and help me as well."

"I promise," she said quickly. "Now, how do I become immortal?"

"Immortality is granted only to those with the purest of hearts. I will know the nature of your heart if you can refrain from using your magic to affect the outcome of another's life."

Emrys could've laughed. "No magic? I'd hardly say that's a challenge for me. I live in Camelot. With Uther's law, your challenge will only make it easier for me to survive another day."

His silver eyes met hers directly. "You were born with magic, Emrys. It's far too powerful for you to contain right now and it's only growing stronger by the day. You don't even realize it yet."

"Oh, believe me," she said quietly, "I know how powerful it is."

Baelfire's face turned to the left, his brow creasing deeply. "Someone is waking you up."

"Silas," Emrys breathed, remembering what she'd been doing before this had happened. "When will I see you again?"

"Mortals need to sleep every day, don't they?" Baelfire suddenly looked as old as Silas. "Emrys, remember our promise."

All she could do was nod.

And then Baelfire, the forest, and the Great Tree of Avalon were gone, disappearing like broken glass falling away and leaving only darkness behind.

Emrys inhaled a sprig of herbs and opened her eyes; she sat up almost immediately, coughing to rid her lungs of the scent. "What was that?"

"Sage," said Silas as he tucked it into his pocket. "What were you doing on the floor, Emrys? It looks like you were slacking off on your chores."

She thanked Silas for giving her an excuse. "Well, if you know what it looked like, why are you asking me?"

Silas let out another long, exasperated sigh. "Enough of this, Emrys. We have to get to the castle."

"But my chores aren't finished," Emrys protested. "Shouldn't I stay home and do them?"

"You mean so you can run off to the dark woods again?" He held the flower she'd given him in his hand. "I'm a physician, Emrys—a collector of herbs and plants of all kinds. I'm well aware of where each one grows. Now, let's get going."

Emrys, speechless and shocked, followed Silas to the castle doors. "What exactly am I supposed to be helping you with?"

"I'm glad you asked," said Silas with a smile. He handed Emrys the basket of medicine he'd brought and then took out a single vial for him. "I'm afraid I don't have the energy I used to. I can't apply Uther's medication and go on a hunt for his children. I need you to give Princess Morgana and Prince Arthur their respective medications. You'll find their names on the vials."

Emrys had no intention of seeing Arthur Pendragon before Baelfire could make her immortal—no need to excite the gods by meeting her destined. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"

"Would you like to switch jobs with me? If so, I must warn you that Uther is very sensitive around his lower back—the troubles of an old battle wound, I'm afraid."

Emrys tightened her grip on the basket. "I'll go deliver these."

"Morgana's chambers are on the third floor, second to last door on your right. I have no idea where Arthur might be at this time, so you'll have to search for him. Be quick, Emrys."

"I will." She wouldn't be in the castle any longer than she had to be. It reeked of stuffy aristocrats—especially now that the castle was taking in visitors for the king's celebration.

The guests passed by the speared heads without so much as a second glance. It sickened Emrys to think that Uther's rule had caused the insensitivity toward death. Emrys knew better than to underestimate death. She had feared it all of her life. She'd never be able to ignore it the way the people of Camelot did.

The guards standing outside the door to Morgana's chambers checked her contents and let her into the room. Emrys blinked slowly to adjust to the dim lighting.

"Yes, what do you want?"

Emrys' attention flickered to her left, where a girl who couldn't have been much older than her was sitting at a vanity table. The girl's brilliant red hair fell in long waves down her back. Emrys reached up and untangled some of her brown curls, catching her reflection in the mirror.

"Well," said the girl, her tone harsh and impatient.

Emrys remembered that she had been asked a question. "I've come to deliver a tonic for the princess. Where is Princess Morgana?"

"Never mind that," said the girl. She opened her palm and stood up to receive the vial. "I'll give it to her."

"No, wait! I'm here," said Morgana as she rushed from behind the purple curtains in the back of the room. She swept Emrys under her warm gaze. "Forgive my hiding—I thought you were Vera with one of her treats. She's a sweet girl, but she's not a cook."

"She's horrendous," the girl said, as if that would clear up Emrys' confusion.

"She tries her best," Morgana corrected. "But you don't seem to be Vera at all. Who are you?"

"Emrys...princess." She wasn't sure if that was the correct term, but it sounded formal enough. "Silas sent me with your tonic."

"Emrys," Morgana repeated with a smile, making her seem even lovelier. She extended her hand to take the vial Emrys offered, thanking her as she did so.

"So, Emrys," said the girl as her fierce green eyes slid over Emrys. "Why did Silas send you instead of coming himself?"

"Guinevere," Morgana hissed.

Emrys straightened her back, refusing to be intimidated by Guinevere. "Silas has taken me under his roof as an apprentice."

Guinevere smiled as if Emrys had said something funny. "That's an interesting job for a young girl, don't you think?"

"I think it's perfectly acceptable," said Morgana. She glanced at Emrys' basket. "Are those Arthur's vitamins?"

Emrys, assuming they were, said, "Yes, princess."

"Please, Emrys, call me Morgana. There's no need for titles."

"Actually," said Guinevere, "there is a need. That's why we have titles in the first place, isn't it?"

Morgana ignored her. "If you're trying to find Arthur, don't go to his chambers. He'll most likely be found somewhere on the training grounds at this hour."

Emrys gave Morgana something of a curtsey, locking eyes with Guinevere's for a brief moment before leaving the room. She asked one of the guards to point her in the right direction and managed to make her way down without going past Uther's room.

The sounds of swords clashing and laughter came to Emrys as she stepped outside. She'd expected the knights to be paired together, but they were all gathered around in a circle on the other side of the field.

Emrys crossed the field and found an opening in the group that she could squeeze through. Two boys—one obviously a knight—were sword fighting. Though one might have assumed that they were practicing, Emrys thought that it was just a way for the knight to embarrass the other boy.

She took a step backward to avoid the boy as the knight pushed him down to her feet. Closer up, Emrys realized he was dressed in serving clothes. He carried in his hands a wooden sword and shield.

The knight swung his sword around his wrist in figure eights, laughing. "Come on, Reuben," he said as the boy picked himself up. "It's like you're not even trying!" He straightened his helmet.

"My apologies, sire," said Reuben as he hid his lanky body behind the shield. "I'm ready now." His body tensed, and he turned his face to the side to hide it behind the shield.

Emrys gasped as she caught sight of his familiar face before he was pushed to the ground again. His skin was a deep mahogany, and his twisted curls were the color of brown-ebony. Reuben's wide lips parted slightly when his rich eyes fell on Emrys.

"Reuben," she whispered incredulously. She hadn't seen him in a long time, but she was certain it was he.

The knight he'd been fighting laughed again and Emrys turned her fierce eyes onto him. "Honestly, Reuben, you're hardly a worthy opponent. I'll have to find another if you can't keep up."

"Allow me to accommodate you," said Emrys suddenly. She stepped forward, parting the crowd of knights around her. "Although, I'm almost certain you won't enjoy it much."

A rumble of laughter spread throughout the knights. The knight who'd fought Reuben seemed to laugh the loudest. "I'm sorry," he said as he threw his sword into the ground. "I don't believe we've met."

"I'm Emrys."

"So I haven't met you."

"I try not to make a habit of conversing with jolt heads. I find it doesn't stimulate me in the least."

A knight to Emrys' immediate left flipped some of his chestnut-colored hair out of his eyes. "Perhaps you've been searching for a stimulant in the wrong place. If I may be of any assistance—"

"Does that line usually work for you? Because if it doesn't—and even if it does—it would benefit you to know that I'm not as easily impressed as one of your harlots might be," Emrys warned.

The largest of the knights said, "Such a sharp tongue for such a small wench. You'd be wise to mind it, lest I cut it out for you." He raised his sword for effect.

Emrys glanced up at the auburn haired knight, unaffected by his threat. His towering build was matched with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was probably the second largest creature she'd seen in her life—the first being Baelfire. "I thought they'd killed off all the giants. Last of your kind, huh?"

"Easy, Percival," said another knight, whose face was covered, as Percival took a step toward Emrys. "Don't forget that we're still in the presence of a woman."

"How chivalrous," Emrys grinned. "Read the knights' handbook every night, do you?"

"Have you only come here to mock me and my knights, Emrys," said the knight Reuben had fought.

"I'll admit that I'd planned to do more than this today," said Emrys, turning toward him. "And yet, here we are, aren't we?"

"Perhaps things would be different if you could see who you're talking to." He reached up to remove his helmet.

Emrys raised a hand. "I beg you to leave your helmet as it is. I don't know if I can stomach what lays underneath it."

"D-do you know who you're speaking to?" he asked loudly.

"Of course I do." Emrys had known even before the knight had flung his helmet to the ground. She didn't need to see his brilliant purple aura to know whom she was talking to. "You're Arthur Pendragon."

"So you do know who I am," said Arthur, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Yes."

"And you still choose to speak to me like that?"

"Isn't it customary to exchange insults before a fight?" When he didn't respond, Emrys walked over to Percival and—after convincing him to stand still—removed his gauntlet and threw it at Arthur's feet. "I, Emrys, challenge you, Arthur Pendragon, to a duel."