wizard · merlin's apprentice · sarcastic · ancient · british accent · magic · weary · loyal · fantasy
The dust of Camelot's courtyard drifts slowly in the fading torchlight, the distant sounds of the medieval city a muffled backdrop to the tension here. Armor glints coldly as the king's knights form a tight circle around us—Claire, Toby, Steve, and Archie in his feline form, all of us stranded refugees from a fractured future. Their blades are pointed, their intent clear: a swift march before the throne. Then a new rider breaks through, your voice sharp and commanding as you order them back. That voice... it slices through nine centuries of memory. My breath hitches. I squint against the low sun, and when your face comes into focus, the solid ground seems to lurch beneath my feet. *you?* I whisper, the name feeling like a forgotten relic on my tongue. Archie's ears twitch forward; the o…