I stepped forward. "I believe it is." I took a breath. "And I believe I can be the balance."
The shadow nodded. "Then claim it."
I wasn't afraid as the shadow entity continued to come closer, each step rippling the misty ground beneath it. The darkness of its form seemed to pulse with tendrils of shadow that reached toward me like curious fingers. It didn't falter, didn't hesitate, but walked right at me—until it walked through me, and I felt two distinct sides of me merging. The feeling threatened to tear me apart and remake me simultaneously.
The shadow's essence swirled through my veins, memories not my own flickering behind my eyes, showing me glimpses of Logres and Annwyn when they were one land, before the division, before the differences between Arthur and Merlin had torn reality itself.
I could see the ancient magic that had formed the foundation of Camelot, pulsing like veins of light beneath the surface of everything. I could feel the artificial nature of their separation, sense the wound that had never properly healed.
"Your magic protects your truth, not your fear," the shadow said, now facing me with my own face. "Your disguise was rooted in fear: fear of being discovered, fear of being executed, fear of never belonging anywhere. Fear is weak magic. And your magic is anything but weak. This trial is meant to awaken yourpurpose—and purpose is stronger than fear."
"I accept my mistakes. And I accept the guilt that has… plagued me. And continues to plague me. But I can't tell youwho I am or what my purpose is because… well, I don't know the answer to either question."
"It is enough that you accept the faults within yourself, Guinevere," the other version of me responded. "To know oneself is to accept oneself—blemishes and all."
"I do accept myself," I said softly. "And I recognize that I hold the power, the choices to make my own future. And whatever faults I have—they've helped to shape the woman I am today. They are as much a part of me as my water magic."
Power coursed through me, not just my inherited abilities but something more primordial, as though the land itself recognized me as a bridge between worlds, just as the shadow entity had told me I was meant to be.
And then, just as swiftly as this transcendent vision had enveloped me in its otherworldly embrace, it collapsed inward like a dying star. The sensation was like being torn from a dream only to crash brutally back to earth, my consciousness snapping back to my physical form with jarring, disorienting force.
I found myself gasping raggedly in the frigid, unforgiving atmosphere of the cold stone trial chamber buried deep beneath Camelot's foundations. The ancient walls pressed in around me once more, their damp surfaces gleaming with condensation in the flickering torchlight. The musty air filled my lungs with each desperate breath I took as I struggled to anchor myself, to understand where I now was.
My knees nearly buckled as reality reasserted itself, leaving me disoriented and trembling.
As I struggled to regain my composure, I raised my head to find Arthur's eyes locked with mine from across the shadowed chamber. He was the only one standing there, and the torchlight caught the shock spreading across his features—his face drained of all color, mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated with unmistakable recognition.
In that suspended moment between one heartbeat and the next, I knew with terrifying certainty that he had seenme—not Lioran the knight, but Guinevere, the daughter of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake, in all my unveiled glory.
Because water magic is truth magic.
Panic clawed at my throat as I glanced down at my exposed form, watching in desperate relief as my magic frantically worked to repair the breach in my disguise.
The illusion spell rewove itself in frantic, shimmering threads, racing to conceal my true nature once again. Silver-white hair darkened and shortened, violet eyes dulled to blue, and feminine curves disappeared beneath the illusory bulk of masculine armor.
It was only a second later that I stood there as Lioran once again, but I was fairly certain the damage was already done.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
-ARTHUR-
The Shadow Trial
My heart stopped.
Our treasure!the dragon screamed from within me.
White hair.
Each strand caught the torchlight and transformed it into something that belonged more to dreams than to the waking world. The color was as I remembered it—not the brittle white of age, but the pure, lustrous silver of winter frost kissed by dawn. It fell over her shoulders like liquid mercury, framing a face that had been burned into my memory like a brand.
She stood before me now, just as I'd seen her once before, standing at the lake's edge with Excalibur in her hands. It was the vision that had haunted me for so long now, that had carved itself into my thoughts like scripture carved into stone. That dream, that vision, was now made flesh. And so close I could reach out and touch her, could confirm that she wasn't another phantom conjured by my restless mind.
The air between us seemed to thicken, heavy in a way that made each breath I took feel labored and deliberate. The atmosphere crackled with the raw power of destiny finally catching up to its appointed hour. I took a step closer to her, my mind still not fully comprehending the view before me, still doubting whether she was real or simply a figment of my imagination.
The stone walls began to blur at the edges of my vision, dissolving into meaningless shadow. The torchlight dimmed until it was nothing more than a distant glow. All that remained washer.
The space between us felt both infinite and nonexistent—I could have crossed it in two strides, yet it seemed to stretch like an ocean that no mortal man could hope to traverse.
