Hey! Okay, so new chapter, kind of long, but then again I haven't updated in a while and I know how annoying that is when you're reading a fic.
My only excuse is that I have recently discovered Teen Wolf, and watched all three seasons in a week (Okay, maybe that's not a very good excuse.).

So anyway, here's the chapter, I hope you like it, and thank you for all your amazing reviews!

He was there again. He had fallen into the deep pit of darkness that haunted him at night. It had been a while since he had been there, and he thought that maybe the dreams had stopped. If they were dreams, they always felt so real. Merlin looked around him, the familiar feeling of unease that the place radiated sinking below his flesh and clutching his rapidly beating heart. The air here was thick, and bitter, it tasted and smelt like dried blood. It was suffocating, like breathing in dark oil that burnt your throat and tore at your lungs.

Light didn't exist here; darkness reigned, covering everything like a thick clinging cloak that never ended. Horrible monsters lived in that darkness. They hid in it, their movements so silent that you did not know they were there until they pounced, tearing away at your flesh with vicious claws and teeth, until you were begging for death. Merlin had fallen prey to them more times than he could count. The agony was unbearable, like nothing he had ever experienced. Only when he was left taking his last few stuttering breaths and drowning in a pool of his own blood would he be pulled, screaming back into the real world and away from the enteral darkness. He would never find a single scratch on his skin, and yet he felt the burning pain of the wounds as if they were still bleeding out.

He hated the place, and feared it. But there was no way to wake from the dream. He just had to wait. Wait for the monsters to come. Sometimes, the monsters would not appear, and Merlin would wait for an eternity. He never grew hungry, thirsty, or tired. He just had to wait, so painfully conscious of every passing second that he would scream aloud just to break the never ending silence, and tear at his hair and skin to break the numbness he felt. But the monsters would always come in the end.

Merlin looked around him, although he knew it was useless, there was nothing to see in the dark, and bit his lip. Tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes as he lowered himself to the floor and sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms curled around them. He rocked back and forth slightly and couldn't help but sob. He didn't want to do this, not again.

"It's not pleasant is it? This place?"

Merlin's head shot up, his eyes wide. Never in all the times he had been here had he seen, or heard another human. He looked around him once again but nothing could be seen.

"Don't feel like talking?" Said the voice. It was deep and menacing, almost like a hiss in parts, but Merlin could tell the owner was mocking him. Almost as a reflex, he sat a little straighter, and managed to grasp some control over the tears falling from his eyes.

"Well, I guess that's a good thing, because I don't want you to talk, Merlin, I want you to listen."

"Who are you?" He called, trying to sound more confident than he was, "How do you know my name?"

The voice laughed; a low rumble like thunder that seemed to echo all around him. "Oh I know so much more than just your name Merlin. And as for whom I am, well, you don't need to know. Not just yet."

Merlin went to protest, but found his mouth numb and unresponsive. He let out a small moan of distress, and the laughter echoed around him again.

"Now, now, it's rude to interrupt people Merlin, didn't your mother ever teach you that? I've already told you that I want to you listen. Not for my own sake of course, but for yours, you see, what I'm about to tell you is very important."

Footsteps echoed around him, and he turned his head wildly trying to figure out which direction they came from, but the echoing made it impossible. Suddenly chills rippled down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He tried to turn, but the same invisible force that held his tongue had now frozen him in place, unable to make any movement from the neck down. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, as panic shot through his veins.

"There's no need to get yourself worked up, Merlin. I'm not going to kill you."

He felt the man's breath on the back of his neck now, cold and stale smelling. He would have shivered if it had not been for his bindings. How could a person's breath be so cold? An answer leapt to the front of his mind instantly, but he pushed it back, fearing that it may be the truth.

"At least, not now anyway," the voice continued, whispering in Merlin's ear, "Who knows what I may do in the future? I am very unpredictable sometimes, even I don't know what I'm going to do next most of the time... I just go with it."

Something sharp cut into the skin of his cheek, creating a long bleeding wound, but Merlin did not cry out. He had faced worse pain; such relatively small cuts no longer bothered him.

"This place, Merlin, do you know what it is? It's part of the spirit world, reserved especially for those who committed great wrongs in their life... For those who broke the rules of magic, who broke the rules of the universe itself. After their deaths, they are placed here, to pay for the wrongs they have committed. They are damned to spend an eternity rotting away in darkness with no relief or even the hope that one day they will be released!" The voice was rising now, angry. "Hell is a luxury compared to here, those who reside in this place wish for hell, long for it as if it were a long lost lover." His voiced quietened again, lowing back to its menacing whisper. "Have you met those who spend their days here, Merlin? Those who have lived here so long that they themselves have almost become darkness? They are silent and quick, and need no light to see, for they can hear and smell better than anything living..."

Merlin stiffened where he sat, memories of biting teeth, and tearing claws flashing through his mind.

"Ahh... I see you have met them. Although, I expect you didn't know what they were. They were once like you Merlin, no different in appearance then other humans. But time spent in the dark has rotted them, until their skin turned ghostly pale, and their nails grew into claws."

Merlin's eyes grew wide, his mind hopelessly trying to process this new information. How could those… things, be human? No human could be that ruthless, that wild.

"Don't believe me?" Said the voice as if he had read Merlin's mind, "I can't say I blame you, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I were in your situation. You've been their victim haven't you? You've felt their tearing claws. Almost like an animal's, aren't they? I suppose that's all they are now… They've lost all sense of themselves, forgotten their past lives and everything that happened. Darkness is a funny thing, Merlin, for through darkness our truest fears are revealed. Whether it is monsters lurking in the corners, or a wild animal on the prowl, or even the fear that you are truly alone, darkness can reveal a lot about a person, but it can also break a person. And I'm sorry to say that is the fate my friends here have suffered." His tone dripped with mock pity, and he gave a small laugh that contained no happiness or humour. "But don't worry Merlin, no don't worry, because they'll be free soon… They'll be released from this prison, and set free to wonder the world…"

Images swept through Merlin's mind, of terrible creatures roaming the earth, blood-stained claws grabbing and tearing at anything that blocked their path, sweeping through fields of corpses, the sky dark and trebling with thunder. He tried to move, but it was in vain, the invisible bonds still held him in place. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the images, but they rushed the front of his mind unbidden.

"Do you see it Merlin? Do you see the kingdom they will create? A place of terror and destruction, where all mortal things will be wiped from the earth… And you're going to help them create that world. You will be the spark that starts the fire Merlin…"

More images cascaded through his head: Himself, standing on a hill watching over a burning city, the bright flames licking the dark sky, burnt bodies, disfigured beyond recognition, screaming out for help, a small child calling out for its mother, tears running down its blood-stained cheeks.

"No!" He called out, the magic numbing his mouth shattering. "I would never aid such a world!"

"It seems that your magic is still strong Merlin. That's good… You will need it. But you are wrong. You will help to build a new world, in fact, you have already helped, you are helping right now."

"What do you mean?" Merlin called, struggling against the bonds that froze his body.

"You can't stop us Merlin… You are rotten, fading, a husk of the man your power could allow you to be."

"Magic does not exist anymore! It is gone from the world!"

The voice laughed again, it slowly growing louder until it was echoing all around him and his very bones seemed to vibrate with it.

"Magic cannot fade from the world Merlin, only those who use it."

Merlin tried to reply, but the spell numbing his mouth had been replaced.

"It's time for you to go Merlin… You're going to have to wake up."

Merlin stiffened and clenched his teeth together. There was no way to 'wake up'; the only way to escape this place was to-

A sharp pain exploded in his throat, and he felt a stream of warm blood pour out of him, collecting around his feet. He tried to call out, but his mouth was filled with the sickly taste of blood.

"Oh, one last thing," Called the voice, sounding distant to Merlin's ears, "Don't let them remember you, not if you value their lives."

Merlin's eyes shot open, and he stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. His heart was racing, pounding so hard against his chest that he thought it might break out. With shaking hands he lifted himself up from where he lay, and tried to get a better look around him. Through a small window, the full moon was glowing brightly against the night sky, illuminating the room around him. It was small, impersonal, and contained nothing but the small bed on which he lay, a wooden dresser, and a small TV fixed to the wall. You're in hospital idiot. Merlin sighed and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, taking comfort in the pressure. Never had he had a dream like that before. But was it a dream? It never feels like a dream. By his side he tightened his hands into fists, trying to suppress the memories of it, but the whole event was still fresh in his mind and he could call upon the details with horrifying clarity. He felt sick to his stomach, as if he could still taste the blood which had so freely flowed into his mouth. He reached to the dresser by his bed, grateful for the glass of water which one of the nurses always left there. He gripped it tightly, and took a small sip, then set it down again. He stared at the glass in shock. The surface, that had been completely clean only a second ago, was now covered in slightly smudged scarlet. A sense of dread filled him, and he lifted his hand in front of his face. It too was stained scarlet, dripping with warm fresh blood. Panicking he leapt from the bed, still staring at his hand, and rushed towards the small door that led to the bathroom. He pulled it open and stumbled through, hitting the light switch. The startlingly bright lights flickered into action, dazing him for a moment as he rushed towards the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, dark sunken eyes wide with horror. Blood coated his face, hands, clothes, neck… He pulled himself towards the sink, and turned on the tap. The water was freezing cold but Merlin paid no heed to it as he desperately tried to wash the still wet blood off himself. As the mess of scarlet dripped off his face and neck and drained down the sink, he noticed the angry red line that slashed across his neck. He lifted a hand, and carefully traced his finger along it. The skin was warm and painful to touch, like a wound that had only just begun to heal. His mind raced, processing the new information. Never before had he awoke from one of The Dreams with any sort of hint that what he had experienced was part of reality. All the times that he had died in that place, and never had he awoken with so much as a scratch. But now… Merlin leaned in closer to the mirror, inspecting the wound. It was about one centimeter thick, a near perfect straight line that spanned across his lower throat. The skin was an angry red, and swollen. Yet another scar to worry about, he thought. Carefully he washed off the remaining blood, his mind cluttered with roaming thoughts. Why had he been left with a scar? Who was the owner of the voice? Is what he had said true? Could those things really be set lose in the world? The latter sent waves of fear through Merlin, the images that had rushed through his mind whilst the voice talked returning to him. He couldn't let such a world come to pass, could he? And yet, if what the voice had said was true, then how could he stop it? He was powerless against such a force, his magic gone.

The blood gone he turned the tap off and sighed. Why was it that nothing could happen for so long, and then suddenly everything happened at once? His thoughts wondered briefly to Arthur, and the voice's warning. Why would Arthur remembering endanger Arthur's life? And why warn Merlin if it did? Surely the voice didn't care whether or not Arthur lived? And, most importantly, why did the voice say 'them'. Could it be that not only had Arthur returned, but others as well? The thought was too much for Merlin, and he pushed it back to re-examine later.

He looked down at his blood-stained t-shirt and paused for a second before pulling it off, and throwing it into the corner. In a reflex he turned away from the mirror.

Merlin walked back into his room, and turned on the lights, flooding the room with a too bright light that matched that of the bathroom. He stared at the bed, the closed his eyes in tired frustration. The sheets, as well as the covers were stained crimson. He was startled for a second at the pure amount of blood. How could he have bled that much and still be alive? You know why. Merlin scowled and shut the thought out. Nevertheless he still had to deal with it somehow. He couldn't ask the nurses to clean them; it would raise too many questions. And short of throwing them out the window, where they would inevitably be found anyway, there was no way of getting rid of them.

Tears of frustration welled up and spilled onto his cheeks. How could everything be so messed up? Arthur, and possibly others, were back, but couldn't remember him. He was having scarily realistic dreams that resulted in him getting his throat slit. There was the possibility that he was going to help bring around the end of the world. He was hearing strange voices. And now he had to figure out a way to explain to a bunch of worried medical professionals why there was a whole body's worth of blood covering his bed. All in all, he wasn't having a very good day.

You could always use magic… Merlin was surprised by the thought, almost angry at it. You're angry at your own thoughts? Wow, you really are losing it aren't you? Common, using a little magic won't hurt…

"No." Merlin said aloud, "I can't… I can't use magic. It's gone from the world, it doesn't exist." Is it though? You remember what the voice said… 'Magic cannot fade from the world.' Merlin thought about it. Could the words be true? He hadn't used magic for so long; he felt its presence missing like a hole in his chest. He thought that it had died, like everything else from that time. But could it be that he had just suppressed it for too long? The spell is simple… You've used it so many times, just try it…" He glanced over to the bed. There was no way he was going to be able to explain the blood to the nurses, there was just too much of it. One little spell won't hurt. But what if it didn't work? Then you're right, magic has died, and the creepy voice was wrong. That decided it for Merlin. He needed to know if what the voice had said was true. He had to know.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin focused on the bed, the spell for syphoning off the blood and turning it to dust already on the tip of his tongue. He felt a small hint of excitement, but it was overwhelmed by his nervousness. A small memory jumped to the front of his mind, of sitting his old room in Camelot and the dusty book of magic that Gaius had given him on the floor in front of him, one of Arthur's favourite shirts clutched in his hand as he muttered the spell and watched in wonder as a red wine stain shrunk and then disappeared altogether.

Despite himself Merlin smiled, stuck in that moment, and let the spell slip from his lips once more.

Comments and reviews are much appreciated, and I swear I won't get distracted again!*

*Okay, I can't promise anything, but I'll try not to get distracted...