My stomach did a little flip-flop as I hurried to him and took his outstretched hand.
“The ground is uneven, so hang onto me,” he told me gently as Bedivere and Lancelot brought up the rear of our little cave expedition party.
The cave was dark—even with the flashlights on our phones—and curved almost as soon as we entered, insulating us from the outside world.
“It goes down quite far,” Arthur told me as he led the way with the little camping lamp that we had, thankfully, thought to bring. “He’s at the bottom.”
My heart stuttered at Arthur’s words. “He’s here?”
I wanted to hurry on, but Arthur kept his steps maddeningly even and said nothing as he continued to lead us farther and farther down.
Eventually the tight passage began to open up and we stepped into a familiar setting.
I had only been in this place for maybe a few minutes before, but it was definitely the cave that I had woken up in when Merlin pulled me into the past.
It had changed after centuries of being untouched, the straw mats that had been on the floor having long been wasted away by time.
“Gawain,” Arthur called softly to the alpha who was standing in the middle of the room in front of something.
Gawain jumped, turning to face us with an odd expression. “Did you tell her?”
“Tell me what?” I asked, yanking my hand away from Arthur’s and stomping over to where Gawain was standing so that I could see for myself what had gotten them acting so oddly.
Instead of the large basin that used to sit glowing in the middle of the cave before, illuminating it, there was what looked like a large, stone coffin. There were runes carved into the surface that I didn’t understand, but somehow I just knew Merlin was inside.
“We haven’t opened it yet,” Gawain said, his voice soft.
I didn’t say anything, my hands sliding over the lid as I felt the familiarzingof magic from within.
“He’s in here,” I told them, my fingers searching for the seam of the coffin. “Help me get this off.”
“Sweetling,” Bedivere’s hand stopped mine, his gaze soft. “We don’t know what is going to be inside—this has been here for a very long time. Will you let us look first?”
But I shook my head. “I don’tcare. I want to see him.”
The last time I had seen Merlin he had looked so sad, like he was saying goodbye to me because he knew what he was about to do. He had fixed everything—and then he had sat alone in this damned coffin for centuries.
Running my fingers along the underside of the lid of the coffin I tried to find where the seam was, quickly growing frustrated. “It’s like it’s all in one piece.”
Arthur’s gaze turned thoughtful as he watched me from the head of the coffin, his blue eyes shifting from me to the stone slab with seemingly no way to open it.
“Guinevere,” he said, stopping my mad search for the opening. “Perhaps if the gods knew it would be you opening this coffin—then there must be a way for only you to open it.”
I pulled my hand away for a moment in order to digest his words.
Maybe he was right. I called a bit of my magic to me and pressed my palm flat over the empty spot where all of the runes seemed to circle around.
Then, with a rumbling click, the top of the coffin detached from the bottom and the guys started to lift it away, each one taking a corner.
“Oh my,” someone said, though I wasn’t sure who because I was too busy staring at what lay within.
Merlin looked almost as he had the day of the final battle. Just as young. Just as alive.
But there was one huge difference in the man after centuries of sleeping in this coffin.
All color from his body seemed to have seeped from him. His skin was pale with none of its usual flush and his hair and eyelashes had turned an ashen gray color, hell even his freckles had gone silver in the time since I had last seen him.
“What happened?” Gawain asked, his voice filled with shock as we stared down at the wizard.
