In the aftermath, no sound remained in the cave except Ari’s panicked breath.
“Now, let’s pull Arthur’s spirit free, shall we? I have always wanted to try this.” Nin dug her nails into the air in front of Ari.
She gasped. It felt like Nin was trying to wring the water out of her body, molecule by molecule. Ari’s mouth opened in a scream that turned into a misty cloud above her head. With another flick of Nin’s hand, King Arthur’s soul rained onto his body, soaking into his ancient tarnished armor.
Ari struggled to her feet, emptied and scraped inside. The Lady of the Lake waved a hand behind her, and King Arthur transformed from a time-frozen dead body into a ragged corpse, and then a collapsed pile of bones. Even the bones grated to dust, and finally, all that was left was a pile of gray sand. Ari watched as the outline of a new body appeared in King Arthur’s stead, faint as mist and yet just as potent.
It was Ari.
Only, she wasn’t much older, like King Arthur had been at the time of his death. She looked… the same age she was now. Ari found that she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
The burn on her cheek hadn’t even turned to a scar.
It was still a wound.
“Oh, yes,” the Lady of the Lake simpered. “I always forget how hard it is for mortals to know their own demise. You’re going to end very young. Not much time left, I’m afraid. Best go kiss that girl while you’ve got her.”
The boat to Avalon was more than halfway across the lake, and Merlin was surprised that he’d made it so far without Nin smacking him overboard. She must have been satisfied with the amount of misery in the universe, for once.
He wished that he could enjoy the self-propelled boat ride after a vicious battle and a heart-wearying farewell. But even without the lapping worry of Nin’s waters, Morgause kept staring at him from the other side of the little craft. She didn’t force small talk—she was an enchantress, after all—but she did make him squirm, and then of course Kairos squirmed, and soon they were just one squirmy unit, making the boat rock.
As the famed mists of Avalon dropped around them like a wet, heavy curtain, Morgause’s voice finally reached out. “Why did you not tell the others that you and the child are the same?”
Merlin nearly dropped the baby.
“How did you figure that out?” he piped. And then glumly added, “It’s a magical lady thing, isn’t it?”
“That is one way of saying it. And the question remains.”
Why hadn’t he told Ari and Gwen that he was Kairos? Oh, let’s see. He didn’t want to make it harder for them to leave. Besides, how did you tell people you’d befriended and fought beside that you were also, secretly, their child?
When he opened his mouth to explain, it felt like the bridge between his feelings and his tongue hadn’t been built. Was this one more thing he’d lost as he got younger? “I’ve been looking for about a billion years for my parents and now that I know who they are it’s just so… weird.” Oh, how blazingly eloquent. Good job, tiny Merlin.
“Your friends do not yet see how powerful the baby is,” Morgause intoned as the boat rocked. “How powerful you are.”
Merlin shivered as the mists wrapped him in foreboding. And wetness. Worse than Kairos peeing himself again. “What do you mean?”
“It has long been foretold that a second child will be born in the lake of time. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“A second child?”
“Nimue was also born in the waters of time. Long ago.” Well, that explained why they had so much in common. Merlin couldn’t wait to inform Val—if he ever saw him again. “She once lived among us as a mortal with powers much like yours. How she became what she is now remains a great mystery. But she fears one thing, and one alone. The other time child.”
Merlin didn’t feel empowered by this, ready to break the cycle once and for all. Instead, it felt like he was choking on a dark destiny. He had a sudden new empathy for his Arthurs.
“I can’t be the hero! That’s not my part to play. I’m the magical sidekick who is much more powerful and yet somehow much less important!”
Morgause didn’t even dignify that with a response.
Merlin tried again. “I can’t stand up to Nin before I stop myself from aging backward. I’m almost out of magic and time.” He held up the baby. “Maybe Kairos is the one who’ll save everybody. Kairos is our perfect moment.”
Morgause gave him a look that rivaled Morgana’s best acid stares, eating through his hope. “You are the one who knows how to fear Nin. You are the one who carries centuries of knowledge and mistakes from which you might learn.”
“How do you know about my centuries of mistakes?” Merlin cried into the night. “Is this another Avalon thing?”
“Lamarack told me.”
“While you were mushing your faces together?” Merlin really hadn’t meant to say it like that. “Sorry. Sorry.” The harsh truth was that Merlin knew he couldn’t wave off this destiny and pass the buck to a baby. That would be nearly as bad as trying to steal one.
“There might be a way to stop me from aging backward,” he said, remembering how close he and Old Merlin had come in the tower. “But I need help.” When his magic had unlocked itself, so much had become clear, emerging like Avalon from the mists. His backward aging was just another form of time magic, and whoever had set it in motion hadn’t given him the means to
