Page 24 of The Sword & the Stone

My lungs burned and my head felt like it was about to burst. Tears streamed down my face as I fought for each shallow, wheezing breath. The world began to dim around the edges, the concerned shouts of the knights fading into a distant buzz.

Just as I thought I would pass out, Merlin let out a roar of fury and raw, guttural desperation. His eyes blazed gold as he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a blast of golden magic directly at Percival's chest. The force of it slammed into the knight hard enough that the tree branches around us blew back.

Percival's eyes cleared, the black retreating from the whites, the fog of sleep and nightmare clearing in an instant. He blinked, his expression morphing from confusion to horror as he took in the scene. Me, clawing weakly at the shadowy tendril around my throat, my face turning purple; the other knights, shouting and slashing at the writhing shadows; and Merlin, his hands still glowing with residual magic, his face a mask of fear and rage.

"Fuck…" Percival choked out, his voice rough with sleep and shock.

With a wave of his hand, the shadows dissipated, slithering back into the dark corners of the forest. I collapsed to my knees,gulping in air, my throat raw and aching. I gagged, and I tried to suck in air. Merlin was at my side in an instant, his hands gentle as they skimmed over my neck, his magic a soothing balm on my bruised skin.

The other knights crowded around, cursing and muttering. Lancelot reached out to help me up, but I flinched away instinctively, my heart still pounding. Something that might have been hurt flashed across his face before he could hide it, but he withdrew his hand, giving me space.

Percival stared at his own hands as if they belonged to a stranger, horror and self-loathing twisting his features. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I never meant to—Fuck, I would never?—"

I swallowed, wincing at the pain in my throat. "I know," I croaked, my voice hoarse. "It was an accident. You were having a nightmare."

Merlin helped me to my feet, his arm wrapped around my waist to support me as I swayed. I leaned into him, grateful for his solid presence. The other knights hovered anxiously, their eyes darting between me and Percival.

"Are you alright?" Galahad asked softly, his face more serious than I’d ever seen.

I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. Tristan handed me a water-skin, and I took a grateful sip, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat. Merlin’s magic had calmed most of the pain down to a dull throb.

Percival cursed, a low and vicious sound that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent clearing. Self-loathing and shame rolled off him in palpable waves as he stared at his hands, at the shadows that still clung to his fingertips like wispy remnants of a bad dream.

With a snarl of rage and frustration, he whirled around and slammed his fist into a nearby boulder. Tendrils of shadowlashed out, engulfing the rock and shattering it into a thousand obsidian shards that glittered like dark stars in the firelight.

The knights flinched, but none of them made a move to stop him as Percival stormed off into the trees, his cloak billowing behind him. The shadows seemed to swallow him up, then he was gone, leaving only a heavy silence in his wake.

I stared after him, my heart aching for the torment I had seen in his eyes. I knew all too well the weight of guilt, the sickening sensation of causing harm to those you cared for, even unintentionally.

Merlin's arm tightened around my waist. I leaned into him, taking a shaky breath as I reached up to touch my throat gingerly. The skin felt tender and swollen, and I couldn't suppress a wince at the contact.

Tristan approached, his silver eyes filled with concern as he gently tilted my chin up to examine my throat. His fingers were cool and soothing against my inflamed skin.

"I have a touch for healing," he murmured, nodding at my neck. "May I?"

I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak. Tristan placed his palm against my throat, his touch feather-light. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration.

A moment later, I felt a pleasant tingling sensation, like the brush of a cool breeze against my skin. The pain and swelling began to recede. I released a soft sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging as the tension drained from my body.

Tristan opened his eyes, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Better?"

"Much," I whispered, my voice still a little hoarse but no longer painful. "Thank you, Tristan."

He inclined his head, his silver hair falling forward to frame his angular face. "It is my pleasure to serve, my lady."

Lancelot cleared his throat, drawing our attention. He stood a few paces away, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression unreadable. "We should move camp," he said, his tone brusque. "This location has been compromised."

I arched a brow skeptically. “How do you figure?”

His eyes didn’t bother meeting mine as he scanned the trees. “When Percy uses his shadows to that extent, the magic signature it leaves behind is significant, and it might draw in all kinds of creatures towards our camp. It’s safer if we head out now. Besides, the sun is rising in just a few hours.”

As we rode on through the day, the trees grew thicker, their branches intertwining overhead to form a dense canopy that blocked out the sun. The air felt heavy and still, like the forest itself was holding its breath. Even the chirping of the birds and the rustling of small creatures in the underbrush seemed muted, as if they, too, were wary of disturbing the eerie quiet.

I shifted in my saddle, my muscles aching from hours of riding. The events of the previous night still weighed heavily on my mind—the sprites, Percival's nightmare. This quest wasn’t starting out on a good footing.

As if sensing my unease, Merlin urged his mount closer to mine. "Alright there, Wart?" He’d opted to keep his griffin on the ground today. I suspected he didn’t want to let me out of his sight after last night. I nodded and tried to smile, but it felt strained.

"So," I said, breaking the oppressive silence. "Does anyone want to fill me in on this Holy Grail we're meant to be finding? All I know is it's some kind of magical cup that supposedly grants immortality. I never believed any of it myself, but I don’tthink King Uther would have searched for it if there wasn’t some sliver of truth in there somewhere.”

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