Page 90 of The Sword & the Stone

Merlin's eyes met mine, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. "How are you feeling?”

"Like a herd of wild horses trampled me. But I'll live."

Tristan handed me a steaming cup of tea, his fingers brushing mine. The contact sent a jolt of desire through me, and I was suddenly aware of his emotions coming through our bond. Concern, love, and a fierce protectiveness that made me feel calm inside.

I sipped the tea, letting its warmth spread through me. The grove around us was breathtaking in the soft morning light. Dew glistened on the midnight-blue leaves, making them shimmer like sapphires.

"Galahad," I said, setting down my cup, "Could you get the box from my satchel? I think it's time we see what our next clue is."

Galahad nodded, his red hair catching the sunlight as he moved to retrieve the clue. When he returned, the wooden box was pulsing with power still. He tried to open it, his brow furrowing in concentration, but the lid remained stubbornly shut.

"Here," he said, passing it to me. "I think it only responds to you."

As soon as the box touched my hands, I felt a click. The lid sprang open, revealing a small scroll nestled inside. With trembling fingers, I unrolled it, my heart racing as I read the final riddle aloud:

“In shadows deep where whispers weave, Through ancient boughs, the lost believe. Seek the wandering wood where secrets sigh, Beneath the watchful moonlit eye. Follow the path where the shadows bend, To a stone temple where the echoes blend. There lies the chalice, pure and bright, Guarded by kings who fell to night. To claim the Grail, your courage must swell, Face the restless dead, break their spell. With heart ablaze and spirit unbroken, Speak true your worth, let not silence be spoken. In the realm where the past and present meet, Only the brave shall find their seat.”

As I finished reading the riddle aloud, the sky, which had been in its perpetual state of twilight, began rapidly darkening. Inky shadows raced across the heavens, blotting out the soft glow we'd grown accustomed to. In its place, a massive moon rose up, impossibly fast and unnaturally large. Its surface was a swirling mix of deep blues and silvers, casting an eerie, ethereal light over the grove.

My knights leapt to their feet, weapons materializing in their hands as they formed a protective circle around me. Merlin's hands crackled with barely contained magic, his blue eyes glowing with an inner fire as he scanned our surroundings. Even the Elhorns stirred.

"This isn't right," Galahad muttered. "Avalon doesn't have a moon cycle. It's always twilight here."

As if in response to his words, the trees around us began to shift and groan. Their leaves rustled ominously, the sound amplified in the sudden, unnatural stillness that had fallen over the grove. Before our eyes, the trunks began to bend and twist.

A gap appeared in the wall of trees, revealing an archway of branches over a winding path that hadn't been there moments before. Thick, blue-tinged fog began to roll in. It swirled around our feet, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and dead things. The fog slowly rose and rose until it was over our heads.

"The Wandering Wood," I breathed, realization dawning. "It's calling us."

As if in response, a haunting melody drifted through the air. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before—part mournful cry, part seductive whisper. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, weaving through the fog and wrapping around us like an invisible thread.

"We need to follow it," I said, my voice sounding strange and distant to my own ears. "The final trial is at the end of this path."

We left the Elhorns behind, their restless whinnies fading into the fog as we set off down the winding path. The moon loomed before us, impossibly large and ever-present no matter how the path twisted and turned.

As we ventured deeper, the trees grew more twisted and gnarled. Their bark was black as pitch, scored with deep furrows that oozed a luminescent sap. The sap pulsed with a faint, sickly green light, as if the very lifeblood of the forest was poisoned.

After what felt like an hour of walking nowhere, though time seemed to have little meaning in this place, we emerged into a large clearing. As the riddle said, a stone temple loomed before us. Its weathered walls were covered in twisting vines and glowing moss. Crumbling statues of forgotten kings lined the path leading to a towering set of obsidian steps.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to ascend. But before I could take a step, cruel laughter echoed through the trees. A swarm of inky black crows burst from the shadows.

I drew Excalibur; the blade flared to life with golden power. My knights surrounded me, Gawain’s frost licking up his arms, Lancelot’s fire crackling, Percy’s shadows writhing. Galahad and Gawain had drawn their blades and Merlin wound a whip of golden magic around his wrists, ready to strike the moment my life was in danger.

The crows circled, spiraling down towards the ground, coalescing into a familiar shape. I wasn’t surprised to see my sister. In fact, I’d been waiting for her to show herself, knowing she’d be coming for the Grail the moment the path to the temple was revealed. I just thought she’d be sneakier about it.

Her blood-red hair whipped around her face as she raised her arms. Dark tendrils of magic shot from her fingertips into the surrounding trees. The branches creaked and groaned, suddenly animated. They lashed out like grasping hands.

“Fuck!” someone shouted as the trees converged.

I watched in horror as my men were lifted off their feet, struggling against the branches that wrapped tightly around their bodies. Mordred's laughter rang out again as she turned her emerald gaze on me, a wicked smile twisting her lips.

I raised Excalibur. The sword felt alive in my grip, eager for blood. "I won't let you have it, Mordred," I growled, my wings flaring out behind me. "The Grail doesn't belong to you."

She laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "And it belongs toyou? A gutter rat playing at being queen? Give me Excalibur before I gut your soldiers like little piggies."

I didn’t move an inch. I didn’t respond to her barbs. She was trying to goad me. She must have seen it on my face, because her smile dropped.

With a snarl, Mordred launched herself at me, tendrils of inky darkness lashing out like whips. I barely managed to dodge them, feeling the air crackle where they struck the ground. Excalibur sang as I swung it in a wide arc, golden light blazing from its edge.

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