Disclaimer: I Own Nothing

Me: Uhhhh Hello? :D

Everyone: *Gasps* SHE HAS RETURNED! *Take out massive pitchforks* GET HER!

Me: *Panics* Wait wait WAIT! I can explain! ;A;

Me: *running away* ENJOY!

(P.S. Please read the authors notes at the bottom!)

"This is a bad idea…" Fyrsil declared as he and his sister stepped out of the castle tunnels and into the castle itself. They had been following their father and uncle through the tunnels and his sense of trepidation started to grow with each step. He knew that this was a mistake; they were not ready to be near the battlefield that the kingdom would become in minutes.

He loved his big sister; Fyrsil knew that she had sacrificed a lot to keep him as safe as possible while they were on the road. But he also knew that her sense of right and wrong and the almost compulsive need to do something about it had put them in the worst situations possible. Mother had always said that while his sister was the shield to him he in turn needed to become her guide. She was so impulsive, so rash in her decisions. It takes a lot of his patience to keep his sister from running head-first into any fight. He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when his sister pushed them behind a pillar just as some guards passed by.

With his heart racing but his mind forever clear the two siblings waited with baited breaths until the blood guards were out of range. Tarian then leaned forward and gave me a glare. "Well, it's a bit too late for that!" She whispered as she took his hand in hers to drag him further inside the drapes. "Now come on, I think I heard them go that way." We went in the opposite direction and found a little alcove that was hidden by the luxurious drapery of the castle window. Hurdling together under the heavy fabrics, Tarian turns to him with an all too familiar glint in her eyes.

"Come on brother mine," She whispers as she hugs her knees closer to her. "time to use what mother gave you." She smiles as she leans back as much as she could to give him the most space possible. He adored his sister, he loved how much she cared for people and for him. How she knows how he felt about touching and his space. And so, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before releasing his magic into the air.

His magical abilities let him has some form of ability similar to the seers. He could sense how the future would unfold, how certain events might lean to and what they might need for it to happen. It was true divination of the future but it was ever evolving. With another breath he expanded his field of view to encompass each corridor one by one. He could feel every blood guard's tainted souls, every innocent citizen scared and afraid. More, more, more people began to fill his view, but he was quick to categorize them and put them aside; he needed to find their father before things escalated even more. Deeper and deeper he went, searching, looking and before he knew it his eyes slowly opened.

"I found them." He stated as he saw his sisters eyes burn with pride for him. "I can feel father's magic and Ewythr's spirit glows strong in my sight."

"Great!"

"I also see their enemies…" He continued, not wanting let her go out there unknowingly. "Such fierce darkness. I can feel a fire burning deep inside the witch, a virus ravaging every fiber of her soul. It is in agony, forever burning; all that is left are ashes. Blackness."

"And the other." He could see his sister pause at this and I took this as permission to continue. "The same flames, anger and vengeance run through his soul. But his soul is not burning; it's as if he freely gave his soul to it…" The two of them were quiet after that. He could see that Tarian was slowly digesting these new facts. But he simply waited calmly, knowing what the outcome would be. His dear sister looked at him with a serious look. No more games. It was time to act. Their family needed them and as such they would help. Hearing their Father's dragonlord cry, Fyrsil carefully peeked behind the fabric that was their cover to look around and finding no one in sight he gave his sister his hand.

"This way…"

Their father was not kidding when he said how easily he had sneaked around the castle undetected. They had no trouble getting to the throne room undetected and the two were now huddled on one of the balconies above the massive room; Fyrsil with their Uncle and Tarian with their Father, hidden from the fighters bellow them and listening closely to the words being exchanged.

"Come now Arthur. Surely you know that this meager fight is only delaying the inevitable." The evil Mordred declared as he circled his Uncle with a demented gleam in his eyes. "It is my destiny to kill you my lord! And it is my absolute pleasure!" As he said this, he lunged once more and once again his Uncle parried him with ease.

"I cannot believe I put my trust in you Mordred. I considered you a part of my brotherhood. I chose your side regardless of what my brother had warned me." He could feel the pain in those words. Fyrsil now understood a little why his Father and Uncle carried such pain on their souls.

"Spare me your sob story! Haven't you figured out that I've been playing you since the beginning?" Mordred growled as his face morphed into a psychotic smile. "Ohhh, and how easy it was to gain your trust! Such pathetic fool you were and still are!" Hearing this did not make him flinch. His magic had seen the light of his Uncle and knew that he would not falter before this man.

"Do you not hear?" His Uncle stated as he gestured to the sounds of the battle outside. "Our men will quickly overcome your forces and the kingdom will once again be back with its rightful ruler." He had to smile briefly at this. Mordred had no idea whom he was dealing with; his Uncle was truly a benevolent ruler. Even now as the two are fighting, he tells these facts to his enemy with a sense of pity for what had to happen. He is saddened but resolute. A true King.

"We have sorcerers in our side. Your soldiers are no match for our magic." Mordred growled his rebuttal while his Uncle let his eyes show the pity he felt for his enemy.

"We have magic of our own…"

"You lie!" Mordred's eyes light up with venomous magic in reaction to his anger and begins to strike again.

"There are those of magic who never let their morals waver after the Purge." My Uncle responds as he expertly blocks each of his attacks."They chose to side with Merlin. With The Emrys. And I can readily assure you that our side will win." With this, his Uncle pushes Mordred away from him with a mighty thrust of his sword and stares him down.

"Might and Magic. Working as one." And hearing this made his own magic sing at the declaration. And the hope that him and his sister would finally be able to live truly at peace. But that didn't last long as Mordred's anger reached a new height.

"Enough!" As Mordres shouted this, he forgoes his sword to use his magic and he let out a pulse to throw his Uncle to the ground. Fyrsil stared wide-eyed as he saw his Uncle rolling on the floor, Excalibur left behind just mere feets away from him. "It is time to pay for your crimes! No more talking! No more waiting!" Mordred was declaring this as he ever so slowly came closer to his Uncle. Mordred raised one hand menacingly over his Uncle as he smiled the same dark smile.

"It is time to end this!" Fyrsil's eyes widened as he felt the spell he was forming and he immediately threw himself over the edge and down to the fight.

"No!" He landed right in between the two fighters and he was quick to throw his hands up in defense of his Uncle and King. He threw up his strongest shields and held in a scream of pain while he took on the brunt of the powerful attack. A second passed before his shields were destroyed but his purposed had been served. He had protected his family at the moment needed.

"Fyrsil?" He heard his Uncle exclaimed behind him as he quickly rose up. "What are you doing here?!"

"This is supposed to be a sword fight, not one of magic!" Fyrsil uttered steadily, not quite sure if it trembled at the effort. "I had to keep you safe." He never took his eyes off Mordred in front of him and he saw quickly his look of surprise turn to that of cruel mocking.

"What is this?" Mordred asked. "Need a child to fight your battles now?" with one last effort, Fyrsil called his magic to get Excalibur back into his owner's hand as his Uncle placed a hand on his shoulder. Fyrsil was hesitant to look but nevertheless he raised his head to look at his Uncle's stone-like expression. In the distance, he could tell that his sister had joined the battle on their father's side and it seemed like their Uncle had noticed too.

"Get you and your sister out of here. Now."

"Uncle-"

"That is an order!" He had never heard his Uncle's voice like that. Strong and with so much power behind them. It was a glimpse but it was then that Fyrsil could clearly see the Once and Future King that was at the core of his Uncle. No. He was not his Uncle at that moment. He was his King. And his King had just given him and order. However, before he could act upon it, he felt the same inky darkness of the witch approach them.

"Oh. But where's the rush?" A voice like a thousand crows boomed all around them as two figures emerged from the shadows behind Mordred. "The children just got here after all!" Fyrsil could feel his Uncle and himself freeze at the sight before them. It was the Lady Morgana, her billowing inky black hair in disarray and her face scratched and bleeding but still holding an air of victory. And that was clearly due to the second figure she held in her hands. Tarian was grasping at her neck where the witch was holding a sharp dagger to her. His sister was looking at him with regret and a desperate apology which he was quick to brush off. Apologies would waste precious time and energy that they did not seem to have at the moment. He could feel his Uncle's muscles coil and hold back as if waiting for the perfect moment to get my sister out of the witches grasp. Fyrsil tried to keep calm, to reign in his mind, to come up with something to help but all he could think of was that it was his sister, she could die at this very moment and where was their Father?

"Morgana!" Fyrsil jumped as he heard the almost inhuman voice clamor and demand the witch before them. He saw as his Father's body got beside him, keeping Fyrsil between him and his Uncle, but when he saw the Once and Future King just before, nothing could have prepare him for what he saw before him.

His father, at all moments that he has known him has always extruded this sense of peace. An air of calm and inner tranquility that made him the most approachable being Fyrsil has known. But now?

What he saw was the storm of Emrys.

His magic could sense their father's magic growling in the air. All sense of calm and peace gone. Anger and cold resolution was all that was left. The pure inevitable destruction of all before him depended on the words exchanged now.

"Ohhh come now Emrys! Your daughter and I are simply having a bit of fun is all!" As Morgana exclaims this, she uses her other hand to pull Tarian's head upwards to stare at her with a wicked grin. "After all, I must get acquainted with my niece!" At this, Morgana drove the dagger closer to his sister's neck and I couldn't help but let something escape from my lips.

"Sister…" Fyrsil was quick to shut up after that but it was clear the reaction from his father. His magic coiled and was boiling it begged to be used. It begged to punish those in front of them.

"She is NOTHING of yours! Give her back to me now Morgana, they are merely children. They don't belong in the middle of this fight!" His Father demanded with steel in his voice. Fyrsil felt his Uncle shiver beside him as he heard it too. Perhaps he could also feel what was coming?

"I'm sorry Father." Tarian squeaked before grunting in pain as Morgana placed the dagger closer to her neck. It was so close to drawing blood…

"Aww! Isn't that sweet?" Morgana cackled and grinned maniacally at them while swaying back and forth with his sister in hand. "Why little one? Why are you sorry? Nothing's happened to you has it?" Closer and closer the dagger's steel comes…

"Morgana. You don't want to do this…" Fyrsil heard his Uncle utter beside him as he tried to reason with the witch but it was of no use; even he could see that she was beyond saving.

"Oh don't I?" Her swaying stopped and now she glared at his Uncle with all her hatred. "Wouldn't you do it to any other sorcerer out there?!" She had lost herself. Closer and closer…

"Haven't you do this to the hundreds of Druids you've slaughtered over the years?!"

Closer.

"Morgana-"

So close….

"I do this out of service for my own people!" Too close. "I do this as the redeemer of the Old Ways! I am the last High Priestess of the Old Religion and they have begged and clamor for a savior! And aaaaalll that stands in the way now are you! It's ALWAYS YOU!"

Too late.

"Oh no…" Fyrsil heard his Uncle utter in fright as they both saw a small tendril of blood drip to the floor. All sound escaped the throne room at that moment. No sound of the battle outside could be heard. It was as if the very air had suddenly escaped the room, taking what little comfort it gave. Fyrsil felt his Uncle pushing him backwards as he himself walk with him. And he immediately understood his reasoning. His father had not spoken in quite a while…

"You should not have done that." Fyrsil whispered this as his Uncle pushed them both to what little safety they could find. Hearing this, Morgana then turned her sight to him and gave him a mocking glare.

"And why not you little pest!" As soon as she said this, the universe took this as its cue to explode.

The sounds became almost unbearable after the brief period of silence. The entire hall was saturated by the sheer weight of the magic in the air. The air became frigid. The wind came back howling and tormentous. His Uncle hugged his slight frame from behind him and pulled the two of them into a covered corner.

"YoU sPiLlEd ThE bLoOd Of My ChIlD!" The sheer power in Father's voice was frightening. His body levitated from the ground by sheer will of his magic. His eyes, sclera and all, were molten gold almost white with its burning heat. Father's face was twisted into an expression of pure rage and with a simple nod of his head, Fyrsil saw and the body of his sister disappeared from the witches grasp and into that of their Uncle. Morgana and Mordred stood still, shocked and scared beyond belief of what they were witnessing he assumed. And he supposed that was fair.

Who wouldn't be terrified of The Emry's wrath?

"W-what is happening? You CAN'T BE THIS POWERFUL!" Morgana shouted in weak defiance but he could see that her resolve was all but gone. Their Father raised a single arm, his finger pointing at her in ultimate judgement.

"YOU, MORGAN LE FAY! TODAY YOU SHALL DIE BY MY HANDS!"

Me: Well, THAT was intense huh?

Alright everyone! GUESS WHO'S BACK? Yeah, I know I've left you guys all up in the air and with this story SO CLOSE to being finished it must've been awful for you all! And for that you have my sincerest apologies!

School was hectic and busy as all hell but I accomplished so MUCH! I've learned from my Speculative Fiction teacher and I cannot WAIT to put what she has taught me into works! My novel is going through many drafts and I keep switching from my trilogy to my romance one, but I am very happy with the current results! I helped create a web game for a show and I even started my own YouTube channel!

If you would like to support me and give me a follow my channel's name is Sugarholic Animation! It would mean the world to me to see you there!

Alright. So I guess I'll leave you with this and start finishing up this puppy up! Don't forget to comment on what you think of the chapter and hey! Maybe which novel you would like for me to work on faster! My trilogy is set in a futuristic plutocratic utopia and my romance will be set in present time and have a bit of government conspiracy and a powered female protagonist!

Alright! Until NEXT chapter!