"I don’t know what to think anymore," I continued. "Or what to believe. Every truth I’ve ever been taught has unraveled. Every loyalty I’ve pledged has been tangled with doubt. I don’t know if Arthur is the tyrant Merlin claims he is—or if Merlin’s hatred has made him blind. I don’t even know if I believe in my mission any longer."
"Go on," the shadow said.
My breath trembled. “I don’t even know who I am when I’m not pretending to be someone else.”
"There is honesty in that," the shadow murmured, its many voices unified now into something quieter. Calmer. "Your confusion is not weakness, Guinevere. It is the first clarity you’ve allowed yourself.”
The shadow stepped forward—and in that moment, its darkness receded. I could see Lioran, then the apprentice, then the dairy maid, then the queen.
"You believe you were created as a weapon," it said. "A tool forged for Merlin’s war."
"Isn't that what I am?"
It laughed—a jagged, grating sound like stone grinding on stone. "We are not to be questioned.Youare to be questioned."
The shadow rippled outward, expanding as though testing the limits of its confinement. A chill traced the base of my neck, cold and unwelcome.
I shifted on my feet, suddenly aware of just howexposedI was. The earlier trials had tested my strength, my spellwork, my lies. But this? This was different. Deeper. The stakes weren’t life or death. They wereidentity. And I no longer knew how this would end, especially when I didn't have the benefit of the Caliope to protect my truth.
"The Caliope would not have protected you," the shadow said, clearly reading my thoughts because they were my thoughts. "You have been fighting yourself all this time."
"I don't understand."
"Don't you?" Even though I couldn't see any features through the shadow, I could have sworn it was smiling. "You have been lying to yourself, trying to build on a foundation that's cracking."
"Lying to myself about what?"
"Who you are. What you are." It paused, studying me. "Look to your magic. It has all the answers."
"Water."
It nodded. "And what is water magic? It is the one element that cannot hold a lie against truth. Water is reflective, fluid, honest. Water reveals. Water mirrors. Waterreturns things to their true form.Your disguise is ashapeyou forced your magic into—but in this, the final trial, you are meeting a force more powerful than deception: your own truth."
"And what do I do with this truth?"
"First, you must name it. The daughter of twilight and water," the shadow intoned, its voice falling into a hypnotic cadence. "Born of a potent union, meant tobridgerealms... but used todividethem."
Its words hung in the air—accusation and... disappointment.
"I don’t want to divide the realms," I said, firmer than expected. "That was nevermypurpose. Not the one I chose."
"What have you ever chosen?" the shadow continued as it shifted again, coalescing into a more defined shape. My shape.
My own face looked back at me now—but changed. Crowned in silver and gold, with eyes that gleamed with quiet certainty. A figure equal parts Logres and Annwyn. In her hands, Excalibur pulsed. She held it naturally, like she'd been born with it in her grasp.
"This is your true fear," the shadow said. "Notfailure.Notweakness. Butsuccess."
Around me, visions surged like a rising tide—dozens of possible futures flickering to life like candle flames in a darkened cathedral. Each image blazed before dissolving into the next, creating a kaleidoscope of potential destinies that made my head spin. I saw myself in countless variations, each more startling than the last.
One moment I ruled Camelot from Arthur's throne: magic restored, justice reshaped, a new age rising. Another revealed me seated in Annwyn, Merlin’s equal—governing not with vengeance, but equilibrium. And then there wasthatvision—the most terrifying: me standing atop the world, Excalibur aloft, the realms bowing not in peace, but in surrender. No Arthur. No Merlin. Onlyme.
I gasped, overwhelmed. The freedom, the weight of choice—whoI could be was no longer the question. It waswhat I would become.
"You fear your birthright," the shadow whispered. "The sword chose you because ofwho you are, not who you pretend to be." It paused, just watching me. "What do you want, Guinevere?"
I considered, then answered with complete honesty: "To choose my own path. Not Merlin's. Not Arthur's. Not thesword's. My own." I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words settling into the space between us. "And to unite, rather than further separate the realms. I want peace where there is currently chaos. I want magic to exist, but with rules that protect rather than restrict."
"Is such a dream possible?"
