As the World Comes to an End, Chapter Eight
One day, as Merlin and Arthur are working the fields together, Arthur asks Merlin to tell him more stories about the world he has missed. Merlin tells him a story about how he met Leonardo DaVinci and became one of his closest friends. The name doesn’t mean anything to Arthur, but he likes the joy that lights up Merlin’s face as he talks about his friendship with one of history’s most talented artists and inventors. It’s during this talk that Merlin as an idea.
That night, Merlin lays a gentle hand on Arthur’s forehead and shows him what it was like to fly among the stars. Behind closed eyes, Arthur sees the vastness of space, the dark stretching on forever, and he’s afraid he might drown in it, the vision is so vivid. But then he sees the stars; millions of tiny pricks of light shining in the black, and the loneliness starts to fade. He sees the moon up close, astonished to find that it really is a giant rock, covered in canyons, that doesn’t give off a light of its own, but rather reflects the light of the sun, the giant bright star closer than the rest.
The scene changes, and he manages to catch a glimpse of the planet Merlin called Mars before the sight fades and he’s back in their tiny cabin. He gasps sharply, as though he hasn’t breathed since Merlin laid a hand on him. Merlin, meanwhile, is bent over slightly, breathing heavily, and Arthur reaches out to him, afraid. But then Merlin raises his head and smiles.
“I wasn’t sure that would work,” he says breathlessly. “I’ve never done it before. Took a bit out of me. Did you see it?”
Arthur stares at him, mouth agape. When he finally finds words, all he can say is, “Can you do that again?”
Merlin grins.
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Over the next two weeks, Merlin takes time every night to show Arthur visions of his past. It drains him less and less the more he does it, and Arthur can’t seem to get enough.
Merlin mentions that he actually got the idea from one of his favorite books from the 20th century, The Giver. Merlin doesn't project physical feelings like the Giver did, though. He explains that it’s more like watching a television - a device that broadcasts images - only the images are broadcast straight into Arthur’s head. He can see for himself anything Merlin wants to show him. In this way, Arthur sees Merlin’s past through his own eyes.
It’s like nothing Arthur has ever experienced, and he loves it. He begins to look forward to those quiet moments by the lake, under the trees in the orchard, and in the warmth of their bed.
Merlin only shows him happy memories at first. Seeing the first Shakespeare play performed in The Globe, Martin Luther King giving his “I Have a Dream” speech, the first openly gay US President signing the bill to make same sex marriage legal in all 52 states.
Arthur likes watching the world grow and change, seeing mankind evolve in ways he never could have dreamed of.
But as much as he enjoys it, Arthur’s still curious about how the world fell apart. One night, he asks Merlin to show him.
Merlin’s hesitant at first, but Arthur needs to know. Seeing all the good in the world, he can’t quite understand how everything could go so wrong.
So Merlin shows him the bad things. War, homelessness, disease. Merlin never shows him a lot at once. Every day, before he shows him something else, he asks if Arthur is sure. And as much as it hurts, Arthur says yes.
He needs to know.
He sees bombs fall, hears children cry and women scream, watches cities burn and people run in terror, not knowing what to do or where to go.
One night, Arthur comes out of a vision to find Merlin crying. Arthur pulls him close and promises he won’t ask to see the bad things anymore.
Then he asks Merlin to show him the stars.
It’s the last time Merlin shows Arthur a vision of the past, good or bad. Merlin never offers again, and Arthur never has the heart to ask.
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Two nights after showing Arthur the stars for the last time, the nightmares start.
Arthur jerks awake to find the small hut quaking around them, and turns to find Merlin tossing next to him, drenched in sweat and groaning quietly. He catches Merlin mumbling faintly, words that sound like “no” and “no more” and “please, stop.” It reminds Arthur painfully of the night when Malus first came into the world and left Merlin screaming and crying, unable to control his magic.
Arthur puts a firm hand on Merlin’s shoulder, ready to wake him, when Merlin lets out a bloodcurdling scream and sits up violently. Arthur feels a slight shock go through him, and it’s enough to cause him to let go, but he doesn’t fly across the room like he was afraid he would.
“Merlin?” Arthur calls his name tentatively, not wanting to scare him more than he’s already been scared.
Merlin doesn’t hear him. He’s sitting up, clutching the blankets close to his naked chest, and despite the sheen of sweat covering his body Merlin is shivering.
“Merlin?” Arthur tries again. This time, he puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder in an attempt to reach out to him.
Merlin flinches, but he turns toward him, and that’s when Arthur notices the tears on Merlin’s cheeks.
“Arthur,” Merlin gasps. “Oh, god. Arthur. It’s…I can’t….” He’s trembling now, arms tangled in the blankets as he tries to hug them closer to his body.
“It’s all right,” Arthur reassures him. “You’re safe now.” He reaches out with his other hand and pulls Merlin close to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Merlin shivers again, and though he doesn’t let go of the blankets he rests his head on Arthur’s shoulder and lets himself be held.
“It’s not…it’s not all right,” he mumbles into Arthur’s shoulder.
“What did you see, Merlin?” Arthur asks quietly. He pulls Merlin as close as he can and holds on tight, preparing himself for what Merlin will have to say. Because he knows, deep down, that this wasn’t just some run of the mill nightmare.
“They’re…Arthur…they’re all dead.”
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An entire town in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, thousands of miles away in the United States. One of the very first safe places that was settled in the US during the last World War. A town called Salvation.
Swallowed by the earth.
Completely destroyed.
Two thousand people gone. Just like that. All it took was five minutes and an earthquake to rival any the world had ever seen.
Five minutes. Two thousand people gone, their lives snuffed out, their light gone from the world. Just like that.
Merlin stands on a mountaintop and watches the town fall into the earth. Hears the cries of despair and sadness and pain, so much pain. Watches the ground quake, split open, and swallow everyone and everything in its path.
Five minutes.
When it’s over, Merlin hears a faint laughter coming from the earth where Salvation once stood. It grows in intensity, until Merlin can feel the mountain itself trembling beneath his feet.
He hears the deep, malevolent laughter echo around him, so strong he can feel it vibrating in his bones and boiling his blood in his veins.
It’s the most terrible sound he’s ever heard in his life, and though he’s never done so before he finds himself praying; praying that this will be the last time he has to hear the sound of the triumph of pure evil.
Whether it’s because he doesn’t ask loudly enough, or because there’s no one left to hear, he'll never be sure.
Either way, his prayer will go unanswered.
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It’s Malus. Merlin knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that It’s responsible for the devastation in Salvation.
He also knows that his nightmare was more than just a dream: it was a vision. He can feel it in his heart, in the very center of his being. He can feel it in the way his magic flows through him. It doesn’t flow through him as it usually does: swift and calm, like a river in spring before the rains come. It rages through him, crashing violently, like a river during a storm, bashing against its banks and against rocks and fallen trees brought down by nature’s wrath.
He tells Arthur and Sibyl what happened in the “dream.” How he knows it’s a vision, how he knows that Malus opened up the earth and swallowed two thousand souls without batting an eye. How It knew Merlin was watching.
It was a show of strength. Malus wanted Merlin to know what It was capable of, what lengths It could go to to destroy the world Merlin holds so dear.
“It knows you’re Its greatest threat, Merlin,” Sibyl tells him. “It knows you’re the only one with any hope of stopping It.”
“It’s taunting you,” Arthur states, gripping Merlin’s hand tighter. “It wants you to act rashly, to come out and fight it before you’re ready.”
“Well, it’s working,” Merlin replies bitterly. “I have to face It, Arthur. It just killed two thousand people because It could. Because it was trying to prove a point. I have to stop it.”
“We have to stop it. Remember?” Arthur asks. “But we can’t dive into this without some kind of plan, Merlin. It’s suicide.”
“Arthur’s right,” Sibyl interjects. “We need to know how to defeat It. And we also need to find a way to track it down, some way to meet with It, or talk to It. So far the only communication we’ve had with It is….”
Sibyl trails off, and no one really needs her to finish the sentence; truthfully, no one really wants her to.
In the end, Merlin says it, because when has Merlin ever been good at keeping his mouth shut?
“In my dreams. I’ll have to speak with It...when I’m asleep.”
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Merlin wants to try right away, but Arthur puts his foot down. He’s still shaking from last night’s dream. There’s no way Arthur is going to let him try and speak with this thing right now. He needs to relax, spend a day at the lake, or under the trees in the orchard, anything. In the end, Merlin agrees, but only because he knows he’s too stressed to sleep right now.
So Arthur takes Merlin on a real date.
He takes him on a short walk through the orchard. They sit in their favorite spot and have a picnic, eating apples right off the tree for dessert.
After lunch they wander into a quiet part of the fields, where the crops grow tall but aren’t ready for harvesting yet. They sit in the bright afternoon sun and talk about nothing. They end up making love between the rows of corn, and the idea that someone might happen by and discover them makes both of them tremble with the thrill of it.
They head to the lakeside and watch the sun set. They start an impromptu campfire at the water’s edge and half the village comes to join them. They eat and drink and Merlin even graces them with a song in Old English that makes Arthur’s heart ache for a time long gone.
When they climb into bed that night, Arthur kisses Merlin gently and wraps his arms around him.
“I’m right here, Merlin. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens. I’m right here.”
As Merlin drifts off to sleep, he marvels at the fact that for just one day, one glorious day, Arthur made him forget about his destiny.
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That night, Merlin watches an entire community buried deep in the jungles of South America destroy itself. The people in one village - men, women, and children alike - split into two groups with no discernable differences and then turn against each other. They fight to the death until one side is left standing. The elderly, the infants, and the very young all lie dead as the survivors trek through the jungles to a neighboring village.
The village welcomes them, as they always have.
Then the fighting starts all over again.
In the end, ten villages that used to defend and care for each other lie in ruins. No one knows who they’re fighting, or why. It’s kill or be killed. Alliances are formed and disbanded, sometimes within the span of minutes.
Merlin watches the villagers destroy one another. And when the fighting is over, the survivors left standing throw themselves over a cliff in anguish at the horror they’ve wrought.
Merlin knows there’s nothing he can do, and he watches helplessly. Tears fall silently down his face and he pays them no heed.
The last villager left, a young boy who can’t be more than twelve years old, turns to Merlin and begs for forgiveness. Merlin opens his mouth to give it, but finds that he can’t. The boy turns from him with a sob and throws himself over the cliff.
Merlin screams at the top of his lungs.
The sound of dark, deep laughter rises over the edge of the cliff as if in answer.
“Show yourself, you coward!”
The laughter only increases.
“Face me!” Merlin yells, anger rising in him. His magic flows through him hard and fast, and he senses when his eyes glow gold. “Tell me where I can find you.”
“Not here.”
It’s a whisper on the wind, so quiet he can barely hear it.
“Why not?” Merlin growls.
“It is not strong enough here.”
The whisper is louder this time, and Merlin recognizes that it’s just behind him. He turns to find the boy who he just watched jump off the cliff. Merlin flinches in horror at the sight of the boy standing there, his neck and back bent at horrible angles.
“Where…where can I find It?” Merlin asks, unable to keep the tremble from his voice.
“The seer. She is the only one who has the power to commune with It. It needs a physical body to speak, and I am nothing more than a memory.”
“Sibyl. She…she’ll know what to do?”
“She will. Even now, It is showing her what needs to be done.”
Merlin nods. Without warning, he feels the dream slipping away. As the jungle blurs around him, he looks toward the boy.
“In sibbe gerest,” Merlin whispers.
Just for a second, the boy stands before him as he did before he jumped, and he smiles. Merlin wants to stay, but he can’t. The world slips away, but not before he hears:
“Thank you, Emrys.”
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When Merlin awakes, he sits up quietly, and he can feel the tears drying on his cheeks. Arthur’s already sitting up next to him, looking at him worriedly.
“You were screaming in your sleep. I tried to wake you. I know you needed to talk to Malus, but I couldn’t stand seeing you like that. But you wouldn’t wake up, Merlin. I thought that-”
Merlin throws his arms around Arthur and buries his head in his chest. “Hold me. Please.”
And Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin and holds on tight.
“Always.”
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It’s early morning when they go to visit Sibyl. They find her already awake.
“I know how we can talk to Malus,” she states. “And I know how you can find the answer to destroying It.”
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That night, just after sunset, Merlin, Arthur, and Sibyl hold hands around a campfire. The fire has been set on a slab of stone they found in the woods. Intricate symbols have been painted on the slab, and one larger than the others encircles the three of them and the campfire. The fire glows gold from an infusion of Merlin’s magic. At a few whispered words from Merlin the symbols glow gold as well.
“Remember: don’t let go of each other’s hands. If the circle breaks, I might lose touch with myself.”
Arthur shudders. This whole plan reeks like a bad idea. There’s so much magic in the air Arthur can practically taste it, and it’s making all the hairs on his body stand on end, like there’s an electric charge going through them. But he keeps his opinions to himself. Both Sibyl and Merlin seem sure that this will work. It’s just that...well, the idea that letting go could hurt or even kill Sibyl is a lot to handle. Arthur grips both of their hands tighter and says he understands.
Sibyl begins to utter the words of a spell. They sound like nonsense to Arthur, yet he can feel the darkness in them, as though she speaks a language wrought from pure evil. He shivers as the temperature drops quickly. He sits mere inches from the fire, but it feels like it’s burning cold instead of hot. As Sibyl chants, the wind picks up. Leaves and tree branches take off and fly past them, but nothing gets inside their magic circle. He can hear the wind and see it blowing, but all he can feel inside the circle is the cold. Merlin grips his hand tighter and says “hǽte” and Arthur feels warmth flood through him. Soon the shivering stops and he smiles gratefully.
Arthur watches silently as a storm brews outside their circle. Thunder, lightning, rain, and wind ravage the forest around them, but they stay safe and dry and, thanks to Merlin, warm, within the confines of their symbol.
Sibyl chants louder and faster as the storm picks up. Lightning strikes a tree not ten feet from them, and only Merlin’s grip on his hand keeps him from breaking the circle.
Finally, Sibyl throws her head up to the sky and shouts “krimpat burzum” and the world comes to a screeching halt.
Everything is quiet. And still. It’s as if time itself has stopped. The storm that was raging has calmed. The trees have stopped bending, raindrops and leaves sit hovering in midair, and when Arthur looks up he notices a streak of lighting frozen in the sky above them.
He looks back to Sibyl and finds her staring into the fire. The fire wavers gently, and in its golden glow Arthur sees that Sibyl’s eyes have gone pure black. He gasps, but doesn’t let go.
Finally, Sibyl looks up to Merlin with her empty black eyes, and the voice that leaves her is deep and gravelly, no longer her own.
“Emrys…what an honor it is to finally speak to you in person.”
“Malus,” Merlin replies bitterly. Arthur can practically hear the venom in his voice as he continues, “I wish I could say the same.”
Malus grins at him, and it’s a look so unlike anything that’s ever graced Sibyl’s face that it makes Arthur cringe.
“You have great power, warlock. Great power, indeed. I respect that. We can never be friends, Merlin. I am not naïve enough to believe we could be. But two powerful forces such as ourselves should at least be able to treat each other with respect.”
Arthur’s not sure if it’s the words themselves, or the way Malus speaks them, but he feels swayed to believe It. Malus is clearly powerful, but It’s also old and wise; trying to convince Merlin that they have something in common. Arthur finds that he’s nodding despite himself.
But when Merlin answers, it’s clear that he’s not buying anything.
“You don’t deserve it,” Merlin replies, practically spitting the words out. “You’re a coward. You’ve killed all these people, forced them to kill each other, yet you won’t face me. Even now you’re hiding in the body of this little girl, trying to taunt me.”
Malus frowns, and Arthur can feel Its anger growing from across the fire.
“You would do well to watch how you speak to Me, boy. You may be over two thousand years old, but my age is beyond count. I am as old as the universe itself, and I will not be taunted by the likes of you.”
Merlin smiles, and the look sends shivers down Arthur’s spine. This isn’t his Merlin: the clumsy, smart, curious, adorable, wonderful man he’s fallen in love with. This is Emrys: two thousand years of rage and agony and pure power…and he’s not backing down.
“Oh, I think you will. Why else would you have agreed to speak with me directly? You’re afraid, Malus. You want this world all for yourself and you’re afraid I’m going to stop you. You want to take me down as soon as you can. And I want nothing more than to do the same to you.”
Malus smiles again. “I am not afraid of you, Emrys. You pose a threat to Me, it is true. But I am not afraid of you.”
“Then fight me,” Merlin goads him. “Two weeks from now, you pick the place. Fight me yourself; no more hiding inside children. Fight me alone.”
Malus grins once more, and Arthur’s more terrified than he’s ever been in his life, but he has to say something. “Fight both of us,” he responds, and he silently curses himself when his voice comes out weaker than he wanted it to.
Malus turns to him for the first time, and It throws Its head back and laughs. “You are pathetic, Arthur Pendragon. You may have fought bravely in your past life, but you are nothing against the likes of Me. Why you were even brought back is a mystery I cannot begin to fathom. If you want to throw away your second chance in an attempt to help Emrys, then I will gladly take your life as well.”
Merlin grips Arthur’s hand tighter, though his eyes never leave Malus. “Two weeks time. Just pick the place, Malus. I’d like to go to sleep sometime tonight.”
“Yes, I suppose you would, warlock. I am sure you cannot wait to sleep so you can watch Me destroy more of the world you love.”
Its words have the desired effect. Merlin seems to shrink into himself, and the laugh that escapes Malus’ throat is one of pure darkness.
“Sunrise. Two weeks from tomorrow morning. Camelot’s throne room. The ruins of the place you once called home; it seems an appropriate place to destroy you.”
“We’ll be there,” Arthur responds. He puts as much courage as he can behind his words, drawing strength from Merlin’s hand still gripped tightly in his own. “We’ll be ready.”
Malus grins. “You really think you can destroy Me, Pendragon? You really think you and your lover have what it takes?”
Arthur looks at Merlin. Arthur sees fear and doubt in his eyes, but then Merlin smiles at him and squeezes his hand, and all Arthur sees is love.
It’s enough for him.
He turns back to Malus.
“Yes. I do.”
Malus smirks, clearly unimpressed.
“This is not a fairytale, Arthur Pendragon. This is real life. Good does not always win, and love does not conquer all.”
Arthur thinks about everything Merlin has told him and shown him about the past two thousand years.
“Maybe not,” he replies. “But this time it will.”
Malus scoffs. “Humans. As I said before: pathetic. See you in two weeks.”
In the blink of an eye the storm rages once more, the fire burns out, and Sibyl collapses to the ground.
…tbc…