Page 78 of The Sword & the Stone

ARTHUR

We rode for hours, the Elhorns'hooves beating a steady rhythm against the forest floor. The Seelie palace had long since faded from view, swallowed up by the dense, ancient trees that surrounded us. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, dancing across our skin and the Elhorns' shimmering coats.

Galahad rode beside me, babbling away, and the distraction was a welcome one. He'd taken it upon himself to be my guide, pointing out the magical creatures and plants that most humans would never have the chance to see.

"Look there," he said, gesturing to a patch of delicate blue flowers that seemed to glow from within. "Those are moonblooms. They only open in the twilight, and their nectar is said to grant prophetic dreams if you're brave enough to drink it. It’s always twilight in Avalon, so they’re always in bloom."

As we watched, a tiny creature no bigger than my thumb flitted out from between the petals. It had wings that shimmeredlike opal and a body that looked as if it had been carved from living wood.

"A pixie," Galahad explained. "They're mischievous little fuckers, but if you leave them milk and honey, they might help tend your garden or mend your clothes while you sleep."

I watched the pixie hop from one moonbloom to the next, harvesting its nectar. The tiny creature's movements were mesmerizing, graceful, and purposeful.

Luminescent mushrooms sprouted from the gnarled roots of ancient trees, their caps glowing with little white dots. Wisps of glowing mist drifted lazily through the air, curling around our Elhorns' legs. In the distance, I caught glimpses of shimmering, silver-colored deer bounding through the underbrush, their antlers gleaming like polished crystal.

"It's all so beautiful," I breathed, unable to keep the awe from my voice. "I’ve heard stories about Avalon ever since I was little, but this is something else…How did you ever leave this place? I would have gone mad in Albion knowing that this existed on the other side of a portal."

"We didn't have a choice," Percy said from behind us. "It was our duty to protect Excalibur and make sure it ended up in the right hands. We swore an oath, so we had to fulfill it." He brought his Elhorn closer until he was riding on my other side. "When Excalibur was bonded with the stone, we knew it might mean leaving our home for centuries, but time passes differently for fae. What seems like forever to humans is just a blink of an eye for us. We knew we’d eventually return home. But still, leaving wasn't easy."

I thought about what it would feel like when the time came for me to return to Albion. Something like dread coiled in my gut. Did I even want to go back to that place? What had the mortal realm ever done for me? Why should the fate of a kingdom that never cared about me rest on my shoulders?

This place, Avalon, felt like home from the moment I stepped foot through that pond, even if I hadn’t known where I was at the time. A sense of peace and belonging had hit me so hard that it was staggering. I never felt like that in Camelot.

I turned to Galahad, my brow furrowing as I voiced the question that had been nagging at me. "What happens after we find the Grail? When it's time to return to Albion?"

The easy smile slipped from Galahad's face, replaced by a more somber expression. He exchanged a quick glance with Percy, something unspoken passing between them. My chest immediately filled with butterflies, but not the good kind. I felt like I might vomit.

"We haven't really discussed it," Galahad admitted, his voice low. "It's...complicated."

I looked around at my other knights, noticing how they had all fallen silent, their faces suddenly guarded. "You're not planning on staying in Camelot, are you?" I said dryly, my heart sinking as I realized the truth. "You'll return to Avalon once your duty is fulfilled."

The silence that followed was deafening. Only the sounds of the soft thuds of our Elhorns' hooves on the mossy forest floor and the distant trill of birdsong could be heard.

Lancelot was the first to speak, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "Arthur, we've been away from our home for centuries. We've fulfilled our oath, protected Excalibur, and ensured it found its way to you. But Avalon...it’s our home.”

I nodded curtly, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat. "I understand," I said, my voice carefully neutral despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. "You've been away from your home for so long. Of course you'd want to return."

The forest around us seemed to sense the shift in mood, the vibrant colors dimming ever so slightly. The mushrooms that had dotted the path now glowed with a softer, more subdued light. Even the Elhorns beneath us seemed to move more slowly, their graceful steps becoming heavier, more deliberate.

Tristan urged his Elhorn closer, his eyes shimmering with something that looked suspiciously like regret. "Arthur, I?—"

"Don't," I cut him off, perhaps more sharply than I intended. "Please don't try to make this easier. I understand your decision, truly. There's no need to explain further."

I nudged my Elhorn forward, putting a bit of distance between myself and the others. The beast seemed to sense my need for space as it picked up its pace.

Hours later, we made camp. Not because darkness was falling—the perpetual twilight of Avalon meant the soft, ethereal glow never truly faded—but because our bodies, accustomed to the rhythms of the mortal realm, craved rest before we ventured beyond the Seelie borders into the wilder reaches of Avalon.

We found a small clearing nestled between the gnarled roots of ancient trees. Their bark shimmered with an iridescent sheen, and delicate tendrils of moss draped from their branches like living curtains.

As we dismounted, I noticed how the Elhorns' hooves left faint, glowing imprints on the moss-covered ground. The prints lingered for a few moments before fading away, as if the forest itself was slowly healing from our intrusion.

Merlin set about creating our campsite with a series of elegant gestures. Shimmering golden threads of magic wove through the air, coalescing into a large tent. The fabric was reedthin yet strong, its surface rippling with patterns that mimicked the play of moonlight on water.

He saw my questioning look and smirked with a shrug. “I can use my magic freely here, so I might as well make us comfortable.”

I wasn’t going to complain. I shivered at the thought of another long night of being eaten alive by bugs as I tossed and turned by the fire.

As we settled around the fire Merlin had conjured, a mesmerizing blaze of blue and violet flames that danced and swirled without producing smoke, the tension in the air was palpable. The knights moved with an uncharacteristic awkwardness, their usual easy camaraderie strained.

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