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Merlin refuses to believe this is the end. He hasn’t come all this way, protected Arthur all these years to have him fucking die at the shores of Avalon. Kilgharrah has said it’s his destiny, but Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer known to mankind.
With a mighty roar, Merlin orders the dying dragon to release one last spell that will heal Arthur.
“No, young warlock, you do not want me to do this.”
Merlin just gives him a pointed look.
“The price is too high,” Kilgharrah sighs.
“No price is too high. Give. Me. A. Spell.”
The spell hits Merlin with a blast and he staggers from the impact. He’s not sure he has the strength to wield it, but he has the will.
“Thank you,” Merlin rasps to Kilgharrah’s back.
He bows over Arthur, whispering the spell, putting his whole self into it and waits.
One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three. Four. Five.
Arthur stirs. Merlin’s heart leaps.
And suddenly Merlin understands what Kilgharrah meant as his strength ebbs away and his eyes close.