Amata is a dry, dusty region of the world and uncomfortably hot during the summer. The only respite is the breeze blowing off the sea to the east. Merlin pushes a hood off his head, hand shielding his eyes from the sun. In the distance, the small city of Amata appears hazily in the sunlight. Square white buildings cluster at the foot of a grand castle and Merlin is impressed despite himself. Amata by reports was a hostile and unfriendly place but appearances can be deceptive, even the most beautiful of things can harbour evil.

Not for the first time he wonders why he accepted the Great Dragon's mission to a place that views and treats those with magic even worse than Camelot but the peril of Kilgharrah's prophecy makes him walk fixedly along the sandy path and the panic that the beast could not conceal rings his mind constantly.

Somewhere in this city a terrible plot is brewing that promises to finish what the Purge started.

He had expected to find grim and gruesome sights, those with magic hung or worse along the city walls but the bustling town that surrounds the fortress reminds him of Camelot. Just as there, those with magic know not to approach.

Adjusting his pack, he threads his way through crowds as stall owners loudly haggle their wares and customers flourish money in the air. If he is lucky he will only have to spend a night but his search may prove longer so he spends time walking along narrow streets and stopping by quaint squares, mapping the place in his mind. His presence in Camelot will not be missed; after nine years of faithful service he had requested a holiday. Would he have left if the dragon hadn't made it clear how dire the situation in Amata was? He is not sure. At this point in his life he can't see his purpose anywhere but at Arthur's and Gwen's side. They are his destiny.

As the sun begins to set Merlin follows a throng of lavishly dressed people into the palace, noting the sound of merry music and the scent of roast meat and baked bread coming from within. A celebration of some sort is taking place and Merlin smiles openly. A distraction is just the thing he needs and so follows them in. He will find a moment when they are focused on food, drink and talking to pay attention to him and slip away to search.

White stone walls keep the castle cool and the marble under foot is embellished with highly detailed images and he cranes his head to follow what appears to be a story but only ends up bumping into an old man in front of him, who smiles. Amata is not what he expected, from all reports the ruler Sarrum is a cruel warlord who makes Uther look positively magnanimous.

But he knows you cannot judge a people by their ruler. This beautiful fortress was taken after a siege many years ago, just as Camelot once was. As the crowd before Merlin clears he sees a grand hall, with beautiful tapestries and burning torches on every wall and huge windows show a spectacular view of the sea in the distance. Around the walls people take their seats, plates and fine crystal goblets twinkling in the candle light. At the head of the room sits Sarrum and his courtiers.

Merlin comes to a slow stop and the people around him fade away as he focuses on a map of Albion painted behind Sarrum. It is massive, taking up the entire wall and it is the most detailed that Merlin has ever seen. But it is not this that makes him blink and shake his head. Lights are dotted around the map, in some places just a speck while in others clusters pulse faintly. Even at this distance Merlin can feel the magic sustaining it.

"Impressive, isn't it?" a quiet voice says beside him and Merlin looks down at a tiny woman wearing a white wimple. A chain hangs around her neck and her hands are clasped together as if in benediction.

"What – what is it? The lights, I mean. I'm new to the city," he adds as she frowns a little. She smiles, nodding.

"The map is enchanted to show every single person in Albion with magic," she explains in the same calm tone, lifting her hand up to point. Merlin inhales sharply and holds it, the hair rising over his body. He starts to feverishly search through the map, trying to locate where he now stands and sure enough, a light burns in his position. He curls his hand into a fist, straightening his back when he notices that another light is right next to him. His eyes flick to the nun who smiles up at him politely and her eyes pulse gold for just a second.

"You…?" All the air escapes his mouth and she smiles brightly.

"And you," she responds and looks back at the map. "I was once a follower of the old religion but I have renounced that life. I know use my condition to pave a new future. See," she says, inclining her head and Merlin drags his eyes back to the map. His very blood is roaring in his ears and it takes him awhile to focus but when he does his heart skips a beat.

"The lights are fading…" as he watches a cluster in a heavily forested area in the north starts to wink out. "Druids?"

"Very likely. Don't be afraid," she says, patting his arm. "You do not have to carry this burden any longer, soon everyone cursed with this affliction will be cured," she says with a quiet passion and leaves Merlin to stand in a stunned silence, staring at the map.

The flickering light, one that burns far brighter than others, begins to blur in his vision until he has to look away. Fear, the likes of which he has not felt in years, beats around his chest like a crazed bird. He must leave, he cannot afford discovery. The nun, whatever she truly is, seems benevolent and yet she wants to eradicate those with magic, even as she holds the power herself. Mind whirling with confusion he starts to turn away, eyes down turned when Sarrum stands and the hall falls silent.

"To my esteemed guests and neighbours I give thanks and a warm welcome. We are here because each of us shares a common desire and purpose: to rid the world of magic and the danger it poses to all of us. In the past those with magic were killed in swathes but in most cases, they are unwitting victims. They are our neighbours, our teachers, our farmers. Our children," here he pauses, eyes oddly blank before he smiles. "I am here to tell you that we are their salvation. Those who genuinely want to seek freedom from their affliction can find that here while those that oppose us…well," he smiles sharply and Merlin feels a shudder go up his back. "You will see what happens to them."

He motions to the side of the hall and two guards enter followed by a woman in rags, bent over with age. She shuffles along, clothes and hair wet as if she had just been doused with water. Her hair obscures her face and almost touches the floor. A chain carried by one of the guards tugs her forward when she slows. Merlin looks up at the map and sees a very weak light and gazes back down at the woman.

"This witch thought to kill me and take this seat," he motions back at the throne. "But she found that I am no Pendragon," he smiles thinly as chuckles fill the hall. "I captured her and she has been my guest for over a year now."

He moves to stand before the witch and Merlin wants to turn away, to ignore the disgust pooling in his stomach but he cannot. All anyone has to do is look up at the map and his presence will be declared but he cannot make himself move.

"You must be asking why I have not killed her and the answer is simple: it is what she wants and I will not give her the satisfaction. Instead I have smothered her magic, broken her," he says with an odd tenderness and then grabs the back of the woman's head and pulls back. Merlin stops breathing and his legs go weak as he finally sees who it is.

Morgana.

"See how powerless she is before me. Remember this face, remember the witch Morgana and the fate that will befall all those with magic who defy me."

Morgana Pendragon had once been beautiful but now those flashing blue eyes and sharp smile are gone. Sunken eyes peer out of a thin, gaunt face, eyes that can't seem to focus and squint in the candlelight as if she is staring at the sun. The hand that grips weakly at Sarrum's wrist is thin and the rags she wears swallow her. He has not seen Morgana for years, and a part of him had hoped that she had somehow found peace or for Camelot's sake been brought to justice but he never envisioned this. The effect of seeing her is electric and it is a torment to stare at her so damaged.

"Take her away. Forget her for another year," Sarrum declares and the guards tug the dazed and sick looking Morgana away. Merlin stares between her retreating back and the map, his heart pounding. He could go back, tell Arthur what he has witnessed, while trying to think of an excuse for being here in the first place. Yet Arthur coming to Amata could reveal Merlin's greatest secret…as the door slams shut and Morgana disappears Merlin jumps and feels a terrible twisting in the pit of his stomach. He is now the only light in the room.

He has to leave. He cannot help her, not after all her attempts to end Arthur's life and usurp his rule. Through her actions Morgana has brought this on herself and the time for change has long passed. He lifts his chin and adjusts his pack before turning from the hall and out into the night. With every step his throat tightens and his eyes prickle with tears but he carries on. When he reaches the wall surrounding the city he is almost running.

Coward…

The voice, so like Morgana's, whispers into his mind and he stops, panting for breath. He cannot banish the image of her face from his mind, cannot reconcile it with her usual arrogant smirk, or the young sweet smile that haunts him. He cannot stay here, not without backup…but he cannot walk away and leave her to this fate, no matter their history.

Closing his eyes and praying to anyone that will listen he drops his bag and makes for the castle again.

Moonlight shines against cobblestones where the guards stand, their shadows cast against a white wall. They laugh quietly and share a drink. Merlin looks for a way to the dungeons, thinking of a spell to knock out the guards when the most pitiful sound he has ever heard reaches his ears.

Somewhere someone is crying, a muffled sound that seems to echo strangely and filled with so much agony he can feel tears collecting in his eyes again. One of the guards curses softly and bends down to pick up a rock. With a yell to shut up he flings it into the dark where the moonlight does not reach. Rock thuds hollowly against wood.

Frowning Merlin sticks to the shadows and moves in that direction, watchful of the guards. His foot connects with the rock and he bends down to pick it up and feels rough groves of wood under his fingers. He looks up and sees some sort of pulley machine standing against the wall. As the inklings of understanding begin to grow, another sob reaches him from directly below.

"If you do not shut that beast up I will winch you up for some fun witch," a guard says, moving forward and Merlin stands. The guard blinks in shock, as the other stirs into action, but Merlin lifts his hands and with a pulse of magic he slams the guards back against the wall where they land in a heap and do not move.

Giving them a once over he stands back and looks down. A round wooden door is fixed into the ground and he can imagine many people stepping over it, not knowing what it is. Feeling breathless, he whispers a spell and the door to the cell slides up and out of the way. He stops breathing entirely as his hands grip the edge of the hole convulsively. A four foot wide shaft plummets down forty feet and huddled in the dark is Morgana, her arms chained to the wall of her cell. It is an oubliette; where prisoners are forgotten and left to rot, a terrible imprisonment. Unbidden the well in the courtyard of Camelot comes to Merlin's mind and he feels sick. Has Morgana truly been stuck in such a dreadful place for over a year? He cannot bear to think it but he knows it is true. As moonlight starts to fall into the hole a white thing Merlin took to be blankets lifts its head and looks up at him.

"Oh…no," Merlin doubles over, feeling as if he has been punched in the gut. The white dragon, the dragon that he had called forth, curls around Morgana protectively. The baby dragon had gone missing after hatching but Kilgarrah had told him not to worry, she could fend for herself. How wrong he was. Aithusa is the source of the weeping, the young dragon's fear so raw that he can almost sense it. Seeing him she issues a crooning noise and Morgana lowers a hand and pats the dragon's head.

"It's okay…" she says weakly and then looks up as a shadow falls over them. Merlin, using the pulley, steadily lowers himself down and then stops above them. He lifts out his hand as Morgana blinks, shielding her eyes against the moonlight.

"It's me, it's Merlin," he says when she shakes her head in confusion. He knows at any other time she would have already flung a curse at him but she just sits there staring up at him. Finally, she looks down at Aithusa.

"This is a strange dream…"

"If only," Merlin says hastily and looking up he focuses on the chains keeping her bound. She appears so dazed and disorientated that when the chains clatter around her she just blinks a little. Metal cuffs still around her wrists but now free Merlin inhales and then grabs Morgana, hooking his arms under hers and then awkwardly around her waist, grimacing at how thin she feels, like she is no more than rag and bone. She is so weak that he has to push her against him to keep her up right. Staring up as the full moon appears Merlin whispers a spell and they begin to rise.

Aithusa stands or tries to. The cell too small for her growing bulk she cranes her head up and opens her mouth to roar. Merlin flashes his eyes at her with a growl and then feels his heartbreak as she shrinks back down and hides her head under a wing. As they near the top Morgana stirs, inhaling sharply.

"No…Aithusa!" she reaches down, her pale white hand grasping at the air and if he did not have his arms around her she would have fallen.

"I'm sorry, it's you or her."

Morgana stares at the dragon and tears roll down her cheeks and fall into the darkness below.

The desire to find a hidden, safe place makes him leave his pack and drag Morgana through the city, whispering spells to keep them concealed. She is half-conscious by the time they reach the path leading out of the city so he bends down and picks her up in his arms. She is so light that he makes better time carrying her like this and as the sky begins to lighten he finds a deserted barn.

"Sleep," he whispers as he lowers her down in a pile of old hay. Her red rimmed eyes flicker open and then close repeatedly, as if she's trying to stay awake but within moments she sinks into an exhausted sleep. On his knees Merlin stares down at her, unable to look away. He catalogues every difference he sees, like a physician would. She is smaller than before, thin and starved. He begins to swallow convulsively as his throat tightens and but he still cannot look away. She is pale but then she had always been but this is different. She is almost translucent and he can guess she has not seen the sun in a very long time.

He blinks when he realises he has his hand against her forehead and removes it, leaning back. Physicians look after patients, they note changes but they do not sit there ticking off everything they see and blaming themselves for it. He views Morgana as a threat, as something that he has no control over and as such she is incredibly dangerous. She chose to turn against them but when the nights are long and he cannot sleep he wonders did he push her down this path with one simple denial?

Is this his fault?