Page 52 of The Sword & the Stone

“Your magic must be reacting to the dawn,” Tristan said. I blinked several times as he leaned in, placing a featherlight kiss on my lashes. “Eyes of molten gold…”

Lancelot stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards the flickering flames of the fire pit. With a subtle twist of his wrist, the flames leapt higher, burning brighter and hotter than before. The light cast dancing shadows across the knights' faces, illuminating the wonder and anticipation in their eyes that wasn’t there before.

"I can't believe we didn't realize what day it was," he said. "The Dawn of the Ancients, the most sacred of all fae holidays, and here we are, on the cusp of Arthur's final trial."

The flames crackled and popped, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky like tiny, glowing fireflies. The heat washed over us in waves, warming our skin and seeming to infuse the very air with a palpable sense of magic.

"This is no coincidence," Merlin said. "The old gods have aligned the stars for this moment, Arthur. Your magic, the surge of power in the land, the opening of the portal to Avalon. It's all happening for a reason."

Chapter Seventeen

TRISTAN

The first timeI witnessed the Dawn of the Ancients, I was barely more than a boy, still learning to navigate the intricacies of court life and the responsibilities that came with being a member of the Unseelie nobility. My father, a stern but fair man, had taken me to the sacred grove at the heart of the Unseelie Palace, where the nobility gathered to bear witness to magic at its strongest.

As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, the air seemed to hum with power. The trees whispered to each other, their leaves shimmering with an otherworldly light. In the center of the grove would stand a High Priestess, her eyes aglow with the same molten gold that now shone in Arthur's.

Raw power. Godly power. It was a moment that changed me as a young fae. Before thesightbegan, before the wars, before the sword was taken to Albion and thrust into the stone. Back when the world was open and new. Before the corruption and greed of kings.

Arthur stood facing the sunrise, her chestnut curls dancing in the gentle breeze that whispered through the forest. The first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of lavender and rose gold, casting an ethereal glow on her freckled skin.

Fuck, she was beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. In over seven hundred years I only loved one female, and it hadn’t lasted long, but something inside me stirred again when I looked at Arthur Pendragon.

She grasped Excalibur; the hilt fit snugly in her delicate hands, its golden light pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat, echoing the magic that hung thick in the air around us. Arthur's gaze, usually warm and soulful, now glimmered with that same molten brilliance, as if she and the sword were entwined in some ancient dance—one was an extension of the other.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Here stood the heir to Camelot, the weight of prophecy draped over her like a cloak, yet she bore it with a grace and strength that seemed far beyond her twenty-four years. In that moment, bathed in the dawn’s glow and the whispers of ancient magic, she embodied every bit of the queen she was destined to be.

The other knights and I gathered in a loose circle around Arthur, our own magic thrumming beneath our skin in response to the energy swirling around us. Lancelot’s flames flickered in his hands, casting playful shadows across his sharp features. Gawain’s eyes sparkled like shards of ice, frost spiraling from his fingertips. Even Percival, usually so stoic, radiated a palpable excited tension. His shadows writhed around him, undulating like smoke.

“It’s as easy as breathing,” I murmured to Arthur, knowing she could hear me over the howling wind. “Remember what we said about guiding it? Make the magic do what you want it to do, not the other way around. The portal will open when you allow it to.”

Arthur turned as I stepped up beside her, Merlin mirroring me on her other side. Her eyes met mine. “There’s no going back, is there?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Not until it’s finished,” I said, shaking my head. “We come back with the Grail or not at all.” Uther wouldn’t allow anything less than that.

Any one of us fae could open a portal to Avalon, but this time, it needed to be her. The riddle was as clear as it could have been, and we couldn’t risk ignoring even the slightest detail. We were here to serve and protect our future queen, but we couldn’t complete the quest on her behalf, no matter how badly I wanted to.

Arthur began to carve the wind rune into the air. The blade seemed to sing as it sliced through the morning mist, leaving trails of shimmering light in its wake. The rune took shape, glowing with an ethereal brilliance that made my eyes water.

As Arthur completed the final stroke, the surrounding air began to stir. At first, it was just a gentle breeze, playfully tugging at our hair and clothes. Then it grew in intensity, whipping the leaves from the trees and sending them spiraling through the air in intricate patterns.

I felt my magic responding to the call, my skin tingling with the raw power. It was intoxicating, like drinking in pure energy with every breath. The same exhilaration was reflected in the faces of my brothers.

The wind continued to build, swirling faster and faster around Arthur until it seemed to take on a life of its own

Then the fabric of reality began to tear. It started as a small pinprick of light, no larger than a candle flame, hovering in the air in front of Arthur. But as she continued to channel the ancient magic, the light grew, expanding and unfurling like a shimmering golden flower.

The portal pulsed with energy, its edges rippling and undulating like the surface of a sun-dappled pond. Through the shimmering veil, I caught a glimpse of Avalon.

Rolling hills of emerald green stretched out as far as the eye could see, dotted with ancient trees whose leaves glittered like precious gems in the perpetual twilight. The sky was lavender and indigo, streaked with ribbons of iridescent light that danced and shimmered like diamonds. In the distance, I could make out the spires of the Seelie Palace where I’d taken my vows to protect the sword.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, so intense it was almost painful. Memories of my youth spent roaming the lavender fields and woods, learning the ways of the fae at my father's side, came rushing back with startling clarity. The scent of night-blooming jasmine, the feel of cool grass beneath my bare feet, the laughter of my brothers and sisters.

As Arthur took a tentative step towards the shimmering portal, the very air around us seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she looked like one of the ancient queens. A goddess of pure, holy fire.

Then she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes finding mine, and I saw the flicker of uncertainty there.

I gave her a small nod, trying to pour all my confidence and faith into that single gesture. "You've got this, Arthur," I said softly, my voice nearly lost in the howling wind. "You were made to travel through worlds. Let it bend to you."

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