Page 80 of The Sword & the Stone

"I need to be alone," I muttered, turning away from the camp.

Before anyone could protest, I strode into the shadowy depths of the forest. The luminescent moss beneath my feet pulsed with each step, leaving a trail of fading light behind me. I pushed through curtains of glowing vines, their delicate tendrils brushing against my skin like ghostly fingers.

The further I ventured from the camp, the more otherworldly the forest became. Flowers that looked like they were carved from living crystal bloomed in impossible colors, their petals chiming softly in the ethereal breeze. Tiny creatures with bodies made of living light flitted between the branches, leaving trails of stardust in their wake.

I found myself in a small clearing where an ancient tree stood sentinel. Its trunk was easily as wide as ten men standing shoulder to shoulder, its bark swirled with patterns that seemed to shift and change as I watched.

Several paces away, slightly down a small hill, was a pool of water so still and clear it looked like a mirror of liquid moonlight. As I knelt beside the pool, I felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over me. The silvery surface of the water seemed to ripple with unseen currents, beckoning me closer. I leaned forward, my reflection shimmering and distorting in the moonlit depths.

Suddenly, recognition struck me like a bolt of lightning. This was the same pond I’d stumbled on days ago, when the mysterious Lady of the Lake had lured me in with her haunting melody. The memory of that voice echoed in my mind still.

My eyes were drawn to the ancient tree, its massive trunk twisting towards the perpetual twilight sky. This was the very same tree where I’d encountered the glowing orb and received that riddle. We’d come full circle.

With trembling hands, I grasped the lowest branch, its bark rough against my palms. I hauled myself up, muscles straining as I found purchase on the twisting limbs. Tiny creatures scurried out of my way—miniature dragon-like creatures no bigger than my thumb with tiny little wings.

I found a wide, sturdy branch about halfway up the massive trunk and settled myself against it. The rough bark pressed into my back, but I welcomed the discomfort. It grounded me, reminding me that this wasn't just some beautiful dream.

From this vantage point, I could observe the entire clearing spread out below me. The pool of water gleamed like liquid moonlight, its surface occasionally rippling. In the distance, I could just make out the faint glow of our fire.

I continued climbing higher, my fingers finding purchase on gnarled knots and twisted branches. Delicate spirals of moss coiled around the trunk, pulsing softly with a light that seemed to respond to my touch before fading again.

About halfway up, I found a wide, bowl-shaped hollow where several large branches converged. It was as if the tree itself had crafted a perfect sanctuary, hidden high above the forest floor. The hollow was lined with soft moss.

I settled into the hollow, drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The ancient tree creaked and swayed gently, as if trying to rock me like a babe in a cradle. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the beauty of the forest around me.

Tiny, glowing creatures that looked like a cross between butterflies and jellyfish drifted lazily through the air. Their translucent bodies pulsed with soft, ever-changing colors; blues fading to purples, then greens, then back again. One floated close, its delicate tendrils brushing against my cheek in what felt like a comforting caress.

In the distance, I could hear the haunting call of some unseen beast. The sound was unlike anything I'd ever heard before: part mournful howl, part melodic song.

The leaves of the great tree rustled, though there was no breeze. Peering closer, I realized each leaf was covered in intricate, ever-shifting patterns. Spirals became stars became flowers, an endless dance of nature's artistry. It was mesmerizing, beautiful...and so very alien.

This wastheirworld, not mine. No matter how much I might wish otherwise. A sob caught in my throat as the full weight of my situation crashed over me. The tears came then, hot and relentless. I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with the force of my sobs.

Around me, the forest seemed to respond to my distress. The tiny jellyfish-like creatures drifted closer. One settled on my shoulder, its soft tendrils brushing against my tear-stained cheek in a feather-light caress.

In the distance, that haunting song grew louder, as if some ancient creature was lending its voice to my sadness. The melody wove through the air, achingly beautiful and indescribably sad. But it made me feel not so alone for just a few short moments.

I thought of Galahad's easy smile and terrible jokes, of the way he'd taken me under his wing from the very beginning. I imagined Gawain's cocky grin and the gentleness in his touch. Percival's gruff exterior that hid a quiet passion. Tristan's wisdom and the way his silver eyes seemed to see right through to my soul.

And Lancelot...golden, beautiful Lancelot. The memory of his lips on mine, the way he'd held me as if I were the most precious thing in all the realms, made my heart ache with a pain so exquisite I could hardly breathe.

Even Merlin, my oldest friend, would be leaving me. He belonged here, in this world of magic and wonder. How could Iask him to give up everything he'd dreamed of to stay by my side in a cold stone castle, stuck in a magicless world?

Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks as I imagined returning to Camelot alone. The thought of walking those drafty corridors without Galahad's laughter echoing off the walls, of facing court politics without Percival's steady presence at my back, made me feel small and utterly fucking lost.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

TRISTAN

I satwith my back against a gnarled tree trunk. My eyes were unfocused, lost in the swirling visions that danced at the edges of my consciousness.

Fragments of possible futures flashed before me—Arthur crowned in glory, Arthur falling to a hidden blade, Arthur lost in the mists between worlds. The paths of fate were in constant flux, especially here in Avalon where time itself seemed to flow differently.

Galahad paced restlessly, pausing every so often to whistle a series of melodic notes. Each time, a bird would materialize from the shadows, trilling a response before disappearing once more. His brow furrowed with worry as he relayed the information to us.

"She's still in that tree," he reported. "The nightingales say she climbed nearly to the top and found a hollow. She's been there for hours."

Lancelot growled, sinking his fingers through his long hair in frustration. "She shouldn't be alone out there. Not with Mordred after her."

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