CHAPTER FIFTEEN
-GUIN-
The Labyrinth Trial
The final chamber awaited beyond—a yawning mouth framed by towering archways of pure obsidian that seemed tohungerrather than welcome.
I clutched the Whisperstone even tighter, hoping and praying that Merlin's magic wouldn't fail me.
Inside stood two figures.
Arthur.
But not the jaded king of recent years. This Arthur was younger—radiant with purpose, eyes alight with conviction. He was not the tyrant I despised, but something dangerously harder to dismiss:a man who believed he was building a better world.
Beside him stood Merlin—but he, too, was different somehow. Not the mentor I remembered. This version of him was altered. His features were warped with ambition, his hands stained with what looked disturbingly like blood. Shadows clung to him like living ink, writhing beneath the surface of his skin,coiling in and out of his robes like serpents birthed from old magic.
As the eerie tableau unwound around me, panic tightened my throat at the thought that if the Whisperstone had failed me, Arthur and his court would experience the same thing I was. But then I remembered Mordred mentioning that this journey would only take place in our minds, not our bodies. So all of this was occurring in my mind's eye—safe from the penetrating gazes of the court. And, if not, I still had the Whisperstone to protect me. With this grounding knowledge, I relaxed and allowed my attention to return to the scene before me.
Both of them turned to face me.
"Which master will you serve?" they asked in unison, both extending their hands, fingers splayed like winter-bare branches grasping for the last warmth of a dying sun.
"Mer," I began immediately.
Think first. Don't just respond.
The voice in my thoughts cut through my immediate impulse to respond, and I found myself hesitating, my mouth half-open with Merlin's name still forming on my lips. Something in that internal warning made me pause, made me trulylookat what stood before me rather than simply reacting to a familiar face.
I allowed my eyes to wander back to this version of Merlin, taking a moment to study him anew, burdened by the weight of conflicting emotions. Merlin's gaze bored into me with a voltage that sent a ripple of unease through me. Shadows snaked across his features, deepening the lines of a face with something akin to desperation. His form flickered, shadows warping with barely contained fury that changed his expression. His eyes, once pools of wisdom, reflected paranoia, darting, calculating.
This was certainly not the man I knew. The Merlin who had found me, who had given me purpose and power, bore littleresemblance to this creature of shadow and ambition. Where was the patient teacher who had spent hours explaining the delicate balance of magic? Where was the man who had spoken of justice and freedom with such conviction that I'd willingly risked everything to serve his cause?
The younger Arthur stepped forward. His movements were fluid, purposeful. He didn’t wield his presence like a weapon, the way the Arthur I knew now did. He didn’t need to. His gaze locked with mine—not cruel, not condescending, butgenuinely searching.
"What if everything you believed was wrong?" he asked softly.
"I don't understand."
"What if Merlin didn't rescue you… butrepurposedyou? What if you’ve always been a tool—fashioned in secret, hidden until you were useful, your true worth kept from you until it servedhisend?"
I stiffened, shoulders squaring even as my heartbeat faltered. "Merlin is not the tyrant you become."
"What if what you call tyranny is simply necessity by another name?" Arthur pressed.
"The result is the same no matter what you title it."
Arthur shook his head. "You see cruelty. But what if that supposed cruelty is the only shield against a fate far worse that would overcome all of Logres?"
I shook my head. "Your words don't make sense."
"Learn to see beyond what your eyes perceive, Guinevere," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes at me. "Look more closely at me and look more closely at Merlin."
"I know Merlin well."
"Do you?" Arthur laughed. "What if he only ever showed you what he wanted you to see—pieces that confirmhisstory?"
The words settled over me with raw truth, and while I wanted to argue them, I couldn't—because I didn't really know what Merlin wanted. I didn't know what I was to him. I didn't know why he'd sent me on this mission and not another of his students who would have been better suited to the task. Even though I'd said I knew Merlin well, the truth was I didn't.
