Tomorrow morning would bring the Labyrinth Trial and with it: new challenges, new trials, and new dangers. More performances. More eyes watching. More chances to slip.
I could only hope Merlin had prepared me well enough. And on that subject, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as I contemplated the man who had taken me in on the fateful day three years ago.
While he had shown me kindness, certainly, Merlin was still a mystery in many ways. I knew he kept secrets. But he had given me my life back. Actually, that wasn't true. The old Guin—the dairy maid—had died the same day my parents did. What Merlin had done was encourage the new Guin to rise from her ashes.
He and Corvin had forged me into the warrior I was today. They hadn't just rebuilt me—theyhad armedme.
More than that… Merlin had given me purpose when everything else had been taken, stripped away from me. And though I had never said it aloud, the quiet pride in his eyes whenever I mastered something difficult—it meant more than I liked to admit.
Was I his spy? His weapon? Without question. But he was also the closest thing to a father I had had in three years.
The thought triggered memories I couldn’t suppress—my parents' faces. Plain, honest features weathered by sun and labor, shaped by years of tending the land. Their callused hands had never summoned water from thin air or frozen a merchant’s stall in a flash of fury. So how had two ordinary people given birth to a daughter whose blood surged with raw, elemental magic?
"You have your mother’seyes," my father used to say. But hers were hazel—nothing like the strange violet irises that stared back at me from every reflection. Had they noticed the signs of magic in my blood? The way puddles trembled as I walked past them? How plants leaned toward me as though I were the sun?
A deep, dull ache bloomed in my chest as it always did whenever I lost myself to memories. It was the exact reason I didn't allow myself to focus on the past. There was nothing but pain in my memories, and painful memories wouldn't help me stay alive. I forced the thoughts away, breathing in deeply to calm myself. I couldn’t afford sentiment. Not here. Not now. Memories were luxuries—fit for those with simpler missions than mine.
As for my mission, Merlin would be waiting now, wondering if I’d survived the first Shadow Trial. If I’d passed.
And if his weapon had been worth the years he’d spent sharpening her.
I ensured my chamber door was locked, then traced its edges with my fingers, whispering the noise-dampening charm Merlin had taught me. The magic settled like a thin veil across the wood—subtle enough to avoid the castle’s detection wards (which I was sure had to exist somewhere within Camelot), but potent enough to muffle any sound that might escape.
Next, I approached the basin and poured water from the pitcher, watching as it responded to my presence. After dipping my fingers into the basin and repeating the proper words, the water stirred, swirling gently without touch, as if sensing my intent. Then it stilled, forming a perfect doorway into Caer Gwyll.
I centered my thoughts, organizing the details I’d collected: the knights who still remained, the Summoning Trial, Arthur’s reaction to my display.
"The first trial is complete," I whispered softly, even though there was no one in the room. My words would hover in the air—a message Merlin could activate as soon as he returned. "I've passed." I paused, then added, "Thirty-five candidates remain from fifty. The Labyrinth Trial occurs tomorrow at dawn."
The water rippled, absorbing my voice—each word, each impression sinking into its depths to be carried back to Merlin. When I was finished, I stared at the still surface a moment longer, reassured by the silent promise of connection.
A sound outside my window pulled my attention, and I noticed, with interest, that the owl from earlier had returned. I ran my fingers through the basin of water once more, disturbing the image of Caer Gwyll until the bottom of the basin was the only reflection. My ties to Merlin were cut for the moment.
Then I walked to the window and unlatched it, pushing it open with a gentle creak. The cool night air brushed my skin as I gazed at the owl that was perched on the nearby branch, its eyes gleaming like twin moons.
"You've returned."
The owl tilted its head, its round eyes never leaving mine. A soft hoot answered my question.
"Have you been hunting mice or perhaps rabbits?"
"Hoot. Hoot."
I couldn't tell if that was a yes or a no. There were students of Merlin's who had beast sense and could communicate with animals, and I always envied them. And in this moment, I still envied them.
"Well, you have as much right as any other creature in Camelot to go where you please."
"Hoot. Hoot."
"So, what are you doing in this tree, outside my window? Is your home nearby?"
The owl fluffed its feathers, stretching its great wings. With a final, solemn hoot, the owl launched into the air, gliding into the night as its silent silhouette disappeared beyond Camelot's walls.
I watched until it was just a shadow; then it blinked into the darkness.
-GUIN-
As I walked, shadows stretched and twisted through a cavernous expanse where the air tasted of smoke and sulfur, catching in my throat until I could barely breathe. Ancient stone glistened with dampness, throwing reflections in pools that shimmered a greenish gold—serpentine, sickly.
