"The darkest parts of people reside within their soul."
With the death of Arthur Pendragon came the fall of Camelot. It had been with the completion of the Eclipse armour that the Trollhunters fell to shambles. Esmerion must fight to keep Jim alive...
"Darkness festers in the hearts of many; all it takes is one powerful enough to twist it to their will."
It is with a small breath of air and the crunch of stone beneath boots that a dark figure takes a seat on the ledge of the crevasse, glancing about almost carelessly as they sit. Sharp features hide beneath the sheltered darkness of their cloak, twisting easily into something reminiscent as they drag their nails through the loose soil.
"'E has changed very little," a near silent voice speaks, belonging to the figure himself. "But 'e 'as grown beyond the boundaries of others."
He grows quiet as a whistling breath of air gusts up from the broken crack in earth's crust. His mind strays cautiously to days long past as he listens for the words spoken to him.
"Not to worry, 'e knows me only by the name of Tyler." He leans over the ravine and chuckles softly when he receives no reply. "Too modern for ye?"
A powerful blast of hot wind hits him square in the chest, blowing back his scraggly hair. He does nothing but blink to clear his eyes of the clouds of dust, his lips curling unnaturally into a grimace.
"There was no need for that," he says calmly, looking down at his hand as his fingers find a small stone. He feels like a child being scolded, being chastised for the few words he has chosen to speak. "I know very well what it is that I do."
There is a moment of silence, and he grows uncomfortable as it stretches. He has done what was required of him, so why the scolding? Too many years among humans makes one act as they do, and he has spent longer than any of his kind would dare. But Merlin needs someone to look to when things grow dark, and he must be there when that happens.
A voice speaks, making stones tremble and pebbles fall as it echoes shallowly off the ravine walls, "You have forgotten that our Destinies are intertwined like ivy on an oak."
"That tends to 'appen when ye lack the Gift of Sight," he drawls, eyes drawn up to the starless night. "We do not all share a single vision."
"Nor can we verge from our Destiny," the voice chuckles lowly, mockingly amused. "Yes, I remember. You never fall far from your past self."
The male finds himself unnerved by the speaker's tone, a feral grimace taking a hold of his features. His hands clench around the stone in his lap, knuckles growing white. "I am no different than I was."
A dampening chill enters the air with the next sound, his hot breath turned to a cloud of frost. The growl of laughter chills his bones, hollowing out his marrow to make way for slivers of ice. It takes every ounce of willpower he has to not lash out with his own strength, to battle against the invisible force that oozes from the cavern. He clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth, claw-like nails piercing the calloused flesh of his palm as he releases a slow breath and allows his core to warm his being.
"You refuse to accept that you are entirely changed," the voice muses. "You do not speak, nor do you act, as you once did."
"Perhaps," he speaks slowly, eyes half-lidded as he ponders. "But I made me decision. I must be here, I must remain. It is no longer a matter of guidance, but of necessity."
The voice lowers, both amused and disdained, "You have woven yourself into both their lives. I do not think that was wise."
"To the crows with wise," he growls, his features cut in a frown. "How long will it be until they trust one another without somethin' in common? The earth would crumble before they learnt. While Destiny is a delicate thin', they still need assistance in the issues of the present."
"If that is what you believe to be your duty," the voice hesitates, pausing as the speaker sighs. "Very well. I will not intervene."
He looses a small breath of relief, bringing one of his knees to his chest. The air is tense and thick, a barrier he wishes did not exist. Things are not as they once were, and it is devastating to be consciously aware of it. Destiny has not been kind to anyone in this time, and he desperately wishes that it had chosen to place its weight on the shoulders of someone else.
"Time 'as not been kind to either of us, Kilgharrah," he sighs, eyes downcast as he raises a hand. His fingers alight with gentle tongues of flame. "There are many things that I wish, but I beg more than anything for life to return as it were."
"No-one can run from their Destiny," the voice crows. "Lest the world crumble."
"I am aware."
Silence grows like the approaching stormclouds that boil in the distant night sky. He cannot help but feel as though he is lying to himself. Many times, his mind has strayed to fleeing the city of Camelot, to abandoning all there is. Humanity has influenced him far too much in these past decades, unknowingly hollowing out who had once been and replacing the emptiness with curiosity and apathy with empathy.
He had once been detached, distanced from the growing world of men. But now? Now he's left with this retched accent and a sense of duty. So much has changed these recent years, and he has little left of his former self.
"Say not a word of me purpose," he says sternly, getting to his feet. "'E cannot know. Not yet."
"I have no intention of doing so. However," the Great Dragon warns, "if he is to figure out your placement, I will do nothing to turn his head."
"I understand." He sweeps his cloak behind him, words almost lost to the thundering sky.
"And, Esmerion," the figure pauses, ears pricked to listen, "mind that you do not lose yourself."
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Apologies for the delay. Was experiencing some writer's block.
Next chapter, things really get going and you're gonna see things start to change.
