To resurrection and tranquility.
“Omen aside, it is beautiful,” Marc said.
“It is, especially when spoken by the Oracle, but it also gave me hope. I knew I could save him. Then, she told me the cost. The first—I had to swear to protect him. The other was time.”
“That explains why the Lady of the Lake said you were his protector. But time?” Marc asked.
“I didn’t understand it at first. She said I would figure it out, but that ultimately, the future hung on a decision I would have to make.
“I understood part of the prophecy clearly—the part where I knew we had to keep the child a secret. I privately consulted with Arthur and Guinevere. I shared with them the news that Guinevere was carrying Arthur’s child, a fact neither of them had yet become aware of, but that I could clearly sense. Their pride and joy quickly turned to despair as I then had to tell them about the future I had seen in a vision and the prophecy of the Oracle.
“After hearing the news, they asked me if the events could be changed. ‘Only your unborn child can be saved. If we can save him, we give Camelot hope for a future,’ I said to them.
“I was devastated. In order to convince them, I had to tell them about their own deaths, something I couldn’t change.” Emrys paused. “You can see why I only share my visions when I absolutely must.”
Trystan sensed the pain in his voice. Tears welled up in his eyes. He forced them back. “Obviously, I’m here now. So what did you do?”
“Together, we devised a plan to hide you. It involved a fabricated affair between Guinevere and Lancelot—no doubt, you have heard the stories of their love and betrayal—but there was no other way we could keep her out of sight for so many months unless there was reason to imprison her.
“When you were born, your mother questioned everything I’d told them because you were a girl, and everything I’d told them indicated their child would be a boy. I had to explain to her that you would transition to living as a boy and then a man, because in spirit, that was who you were. Guinevere was able to keep and protect you for only a short while, but once you were four weeks old, I had to take you away and hide you, or risk you being discovered.”
Trystan stared into the flames, mesmerized by the flickering curls of orange and yellow. The fire faded, shrouded in a mist that closed in around him as his eyes unfocused.
In his mind, Trystan saw three people in a dark room, surrounded by stone walls—two men and a woman—in careful conversation. The woman shed silent tears as she clutched a baby wrapped in cloth.
“Your Grace, this is the only way,” the older man said.
“I know, my friend,” the other man responded. “You have never betrayed my trust.”
“I swear to you, Arthur, Trystan will be safe,” he replied. The older man turned to the woman. “I must take him now, Your Grace.”
“Please, Myrddin, is there any more time? Is there any other way to end this?”
“I’m afraid not, my Queen, else we jeopardize your son being caught, and the prophecy ending before it begins.”
“Trystan, my sweet darling. Your father and I love you with all our hearts. But now you must go. Myrddin will protect you. When the time comes, you will remember who you are.”
The infant wrapped a tiny hand around the Queen’s finger.
Trystan’s own hand warmed slightly.
His mind clouded.
The vision jumped.
Trystan saw his home. Saw his fathers, Owaine and Noah. Owaine smiled down upon a child in his arms. “Trystan,” he said.
Trystan blinked. The vision faded.
Trystan’s eyes widened as he looked down at the palm of his hand. That moment, where he grasped his mother’s finger, resonated deep within. His mind clouded, and he found himself drawn back to the past, only this time, the vision changed. This time, he did not squeeze his mother’s finger. This time, his mother ran and was caught. The baby discovered.
“Trystan?” Emrys called to him.
Trystan blinked. Everything came back into focus. Marc still sat next to him and the “younger” Emrys sat across from him, concern etched within the lines on his face.
“I’m sorry. Please, go on,” he said.
“You’ve seen that memory, Trystan. The dream you said you kept having.”
