Part 3:
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Merlin sits at the table, idly picking at his porridge. He dips the spoon in, lifts it, tips the spoon, and watches as the gruel dribbles back down into the bowl in a series of wet splats. He glances repeatedly over at Guinevere’s still form as he does this, worry crossing his face.
“Merlin, are you going to eat your breakfast or just…” Gaius’ voice drifts away from the young wizard as his face goes slack, his staring eyes blank.
Morgana approaches Helios’ fortress in the morning mist on horseback,...
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