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Arthur was gone and it was like the sun had burned out, leaving the universe black. For weeks, there was nothing, not even pain. Then one day out of the elemental soup swirling around Merlin, there was a spark; a moment of light that burrowed through his chest and into his heart.
And it was the most wretched and painful thing he had ever experienced, colliding into him and blooming into an all-encompasing hurt that, like a thick mire, tried to drag him asunder.
Merlin had entertained no visitors but when Gwen came to him to tell him that she was with child, something inside of Merlin exploded. He raged at the unfairness of it all, but beneath it was a glimmer of hope because this was the last vestige of Arthur that he could cling to. He shook off his cloak of grief, casting it aside and dragging himself to stand beside his queen and the future heir of Camelot.
Kilgharrah had let Merlin believe that he had failed his destiny, but Merlin knew now that he was fated for another greatness. Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king was not one man, but two.
Let the adventures begin.