The moment Gavin stepped into the first chamber of the gauntlet, a wave of cold air pressed against him, heavy with an unnatural stillness. His breath fogged in the dim torchlight, the flames flickering as if disturbed by an unseen force. The walls, carved from ancient stone, bore the weight of centuries, their surfaces damp and worn. Though his footsteps echoed around him, the space felt impossibly vastâfar larger than its exterior had suggested, as though reality itself twisted within these cursed walls.
In the center of the chamber, a hulking figure loomed, half-hidden in the shifting shadows. Gavin's breath hitched as his hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of Excalibur. As his eyes adjusted, the creature took shapeâa monstrous, wolf-like beast, its fur a living abyss, tendrils of black smoke writhing off its massive form like cursed embers. Its eyes burned an unnatural red, fixed on him with predatory intent.
The beast's claws scraped against the stone, the screech splitting the silence like a blade, sending reverberations through the chamber. A deep, guttural growl rolled from its throat, so low and menacing that Gavin felt it in his bones. Saliva dripped from its bared fangs, sizzling as it hit the cold stone floor. Then, with a deliberate step forward, the beast pressed its weight into the ground, causing the very earth beneath Gavin's feet to tremble.
This was no ordinary foe. This was a trial of more than strengthâthis was a battle of will, of endurance. And as the beast lunged, darkness trailing in its wake, Gavin knew that only one of them would leave this chamber alive.
"Okay," Gavin muttered, gripping Excalibur tightly. "Just a big, scary wolf. No problem."
The beast's growl deepened as if it understood him, and it lunged without warning. Gavin barely had time to dive to the side, the beast's claws raking the air where he had stood moments before.
He rolled to his feet, heart pounding as he faced the creature again. "All right, you want to play rough?" He raised the sword. "Let's see how you like this!"
Gavin lunged, swinging Excalibur in a powerful arc. The blade, its legendary edge glowing faintly, cut through the air with precision. But as it struck the beast's shoulder, it met no resistanceâpassing cleanly through as though slicing mist. The creature snarled, its fiery eyes narrowing in contempt, wholly unscathed by the attack.
Before Gavin could react, the beast moved with unnatural speed, twisting its massive body and lashing out with its tail. The impact struck him square in the chest like a battering ram, sending him hurtling backward. He crashed onto the cold stone floor, pain exploding through his ribs as the air was forced from his lungs.
Gasping, he rolled onto his side, struggling to push himself upright. Every breath felt like fire in his chest, but he forced himself to his feet. He had no choice. The beast was already prowling toward him, its slow, deliberate steps filled with cruel patience. Its glowing red eyes burned into him, studying his every move, as if savoring his moment of weakness.
But there was something more than just brute strength in its presence. The air around it was thick, oppressive, pressing against his mind as much as his body. A cold dread settled over him, curling around his thoughts like creeping vines. His hands trembled, his grip on Excalibur loosening involuntarily. This was no ordinary foeâit wielded fear as a weapon, sinking it into his bones, threatening to unravel him from within.
Gavin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to steady his breathing. He couldn't afford to falter. This was more than a test of skill; it was a battle against the darkness itself. And if he let fear consume him, the beast wouldn't need claws or fangs to end himâit would already have won.
"This thing's not real," he told himself, gripping the hilt of the sword tightly. "It's just an illusion created by Merlin to look real. Just an illâ"
The beast roared, cutting off his thoughts, and charged again. Gavin swung the sword, this time aiming for its legs, but once again the blade passed through the creature with no effect. Its claws raked across his arm, bending the armor slightly, causing searing pain down to his fingers.
Stumbling back, panic rose in his chest. The beast seemed to grow larger, its shadow stretching across the room and swallowing the light. Its eyes bored into him, and in their depths, he saw his fears reflected back at him.
His head mimicked his doubts.
You're not a real prince.
You'll fail. Just like you've failed at everything else.
Camelot is doomed because of you.
The voices clawed at his mind, their weight crushing him. He dropped to one knee, Excalibur's tip scraping against the stone floor as his strength faltered. His breaths came shallow and fast, his heart hammering in his chest.
The beast loomed over him, its hot breath washing across his face. It let out a low, menacing growl, its fangs inches from his throat.
This is it, Gavin thought, his fingers trembling on the hilt of the sword. I can't win. I'm not good enough.
But then, a voice cut through the fog of fearâFelicity's voice, echoing in his memory.
You're stronger than you think.
You are a champion.
He blinked, his grip tightening on the sword. The words repeated in his mind, steadying him. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet the beast's glowing eyes.
"You can't be real," he said aloud, his voice shaky but firm. "You're just... fear. My fear."
The beast snarled, snapping its jaws, but it didn't strike. It circled him, its movements slower now, almost hesitant.
Gavin pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the burning in his muscles and the pounding in his head. "You're not going to beat me," he said, his voice growing stronger. "I've been running from my fears my whole life, but not anymore."
The beast lunged, its claws outstretched, but Gavin didn't flinch. He raised Excalibur, not to strike, but to hold steady in front of him. The blade shone brightly, its glow cutting through the darkness like a beacon.
"I'm not afraid of you!" Gavin shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber.
The beast froze mid-lunge, its form flickering as if it were losing substance. It let out a deafening roar, the sound laced with frustration and pain, before it began to dissolve. The shadows peeled away from its body, swirling upward into the air like smoke caught in a breeze. Within moments, the beast was gone, leaving the chamber silent once more.
Gavin lowered the sword, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, replaced by a faint warmth. The torches burned brighter, their flames steady now, and the room felt less menacing.
A doorway appeared in the far wall, carved with intricate letters that glowed faintly.
Gavin stared at it, then at Excalibur, then back at the empty space where the beast had stood. "Did I..." he muttered, his voice trailing off. "Win?"
"Yes," came a voice from nowhere, deep and calm. It was Merlin's voice, echoing through the chamber. "You have faced the Beast of Courage and triumphed. Your fear no longer rules you."
Gavin let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well... that was terrifying."
The voice didn't respond, and Gavin took a deep breath, stepping toward the glowing doorway. As he passed through, he felt a faint warmth spread through his chest, a quiet confidence he hadn't felt before.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, gripping Excalibur tightly. "One down. Two to go."
He squared his shoulders and yelled, "I'm ready for my next test!"
Gavin stepped through the doorway, and immediately, it disappeared, leaving him standing in eerie silence. The air in the chamber was thick, muffling every sound, and a faint fog curled at his feet, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.
He gripped Excalibur tightly, his knuckles white as he surveyed his surroundings. The chamber stretched endlessly in every direction, the walls made of tall, gleaming mirrors.
"Great," he muttered, eyeing his reflection. "A funhouse of doom. Perfect."
The mirrors reflected his every step, but something about the way the reflections stared back unsettled him. They weren't mere copiesâthey felt wrong. Their movements lagged behind his, a flicker of hesitation that made his skin prickle. The delay wasn't long, just enough to catch his eye, but with each passing second, the discordance gnawed at him. It was as if the reflections were watching him, thinking, waiting for the right moment to act on their own.
He gripped Excalibur tightly, the faint glow of the blade casting shifting light across the polished glass walls. The fog thickened around him with each step, swirling like ghostly tendrils that wrapped around his boots, slowing his movements as if trying to drag him into the floor. The cold mist clung to him, its icy fingers creeping up his legs, making it harder to think, harder to breathe.
The mirrors continued to multiply, stretching higher and farther with each breath. They reflected not only him but the endless corridors of glass that seemed to loop infinitely around him, trapping him in a disorienting maze of shifting shadows and light. Every path he considered led to another mirrored wall, as if the labyrinth itself were alive, adapting to his movements. His own distorted reflections flickered on either side, their eyes glinting faintly, almost predatory.
A whisper of sound brushed past himâsoft, like a breath of wind, but distinctly wrong. He whipped around, but there was nothing there. Or was there? His gaze darted from one reflection to the next, searching for something out of place, some hidden threat lurking just beyond his sight. The fog pulsed, as if the labyrinth itself had drawn a breath.
He had faced many trials, but this one bore at the very edge of his sanity. This was a test of perception, of trustâhow long could he rely on his instincts when his surroundings were designed to deceive him? And worse, what if the reflections weren't just delayed images? What if something in the mirrors was waiting for him to falter?
A voice echoed from somewhere unseen, deep and cold: "The truth lies within, Prince of Camelot. Find it, or remain lost in the lies of your own making."
Gavin rolled his eyes despite the tension twisting in his chest. "Sure, cryptic messages always help. Thanks for that."
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, entering the maze.
He never enjoyed carnivals like his mother had, and now he knew why. He hated mirrors! Not knowing which path to take was the worst feeling in the world. But as he continued to walk, he kept an eye on his new best friend, Excalibur, praying the sword would lead the way.
Gavin's thoughts wandered to Felicity, even though he should be focused on completing the second test. But that woman was on his mind quite a bit lately. When he first met the annoying stalker, he resigned his mind to believing she was a crazy person. Then gradually, his thoughts shifted, and he realized how extraordinary she really was, and it had nothing to do with her fairy wings or magic wand. In fact, she could ditch those two things and he wouldn't mind one bit. She had somehow become the woman he had always wantedâwithout realizing he had wanted that.
As he tried to picture himself as a king, Felicity was right by his side, wearing the most lavish gown with a crown on her lovely head. He smiled. She would make a exemplary queen.
Once Morgana was taken care ofâdead, or with her powers strippedâhe would tell Felicity how he felt and propose. Hopefully, she wanted the same things he did.
After what felt like hours of wandering, Gavin found himself standing before two lifesize mirrors, each reflecting a different version of him. The mirror on the left showed him in Camelot, wearing armor and wielding Excalibur, leading an army of knights into battle. The mirror on the right showed him back in the modern world, sitting on a park bench with a water bottle in hand, laughing with a group of friends.
A voice echoed through the chamber again. "Choose, Prince of Camelot. One path leads forward, the other leads home. Only one is real."
Gavin froze, his heart racing. The path behind him had vanished, leaving him with no choice but to decide. The voices of doubt crept back into his mind, whispering their poisonous thoughts.
Go back to your real life, this isn't who you are.
Camelot needs you, another countered. Don't abandon them.
He moved his attention between the two mirrors. Both paths felt real, tangible, and he wasn't sure which one to trust. His breath quickened as panic began to creep in.
Then, as he stared at the reflection of Camelot, something caught his eyeâFelicity, standing among the knights, her green eyes steady as she smiled at him.
"You know the answer." Her voice echoed faintly, though her lips didn't move.
Gavin's grip on Excalibur tightened, and he stepped toward the left mirror. "Camelot needs me," he said aloud, his voice firm. "This is my home now."
As he touched the mirror, it rippled like water, and the entire maze shattered like glass. The fog lifted, and Gavin found himself standing in an open chamber once again, his reflection restored to normal.
Just as before, he noticed another doorway. As Gavin stepped through, the scenery changed. He was outside. The sun was high in the sky, warming him. The green grass and spring flowers were a nice welcome from the dreary chambers of the gauntlet.
He sighed heavily and slid his sword back in its place before removing his helmet. Apparently, he only needed to complete two tests, and since he passed, Merlin decided he was done.
Good! There were more important things to do now, like get rid of Morgana... and then propose marriage to the most perfect woman he'd ever known.
"Hello?" he called out as he removed his armored gloves. "Where is everyone?"
Birds chirped overhead, their songs weaving through the rustling leaves, while bees lazily buzzed between blossoms, the air rich with the scent of wildflowers. The peaceful setting felt at odds with the knot tightening in his chest. He frowned, scanning the clearing, wondering why no one had come to greet him. Felicity would have been here... So he thought. But there was something offâtoo much quiet beneath the surface of the idyllic scene, as though the world itself held its breath.
Then, just beyond the trees, his gaze locked on a figure lying in the grass. His heart skipped a beat. A woman, motionless, her body sprawled as if the earth itself had reached up to pull her down. For a moment, time seemed to slow, and his breath caught in his throat.
He took a cautious step closer, the softness of grass beneath his boots barely audible over the pounding of his pulse. Her wavy auburn hair spilled around her face like a halo, the strands glinting faintly in the sunlight. She looked almost serene, as though she had simply fallen asleep under the warm sky. But something about the stillness of her form unsettled him.
Too still.
Too silent.
Gavin knelt slowly, his shadow falling over her as he reached out a trembling hand, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. The warmth of the sun on her skin wasn't enough to ease the growing dread in his chest. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the pulse point at her neck, silently begging for a sign of life.
"Felicity?" he whispered.
Her face was pale as though all life had drained from her. Her wand lay broken in two beside her, the shattered pieces.
Gavin's chest tightened, panic surging through him. He gently shook her. "Felicity, hey, wake up. Come on, wake up."
That was when he noticed the blood pooling at the back of her head, wetting the grass around her.
"No!" he shouted. "Felicity, open your eyes."
A moan escaped her and her lids fluttered open until she looked at him. "Oh, Gavin. You're too late."
"What... what do you mean? I passed the tests."
"Morgana." Her breath caught in her throat as if she struggled to breathe. "I couldn't fight her. She won."
Felicity's eyes fluttered closed once more, and this time, they stayed shut. Her body lay still beneath his trembling hands, her skin turning cold against his touch. Her shallow breaths, barely there moments ago, faded into an unbearable silence. Panic gripped Gavin's chest like a vice, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"No, no, no," he whispered, shaking his head as tears welled in his eyes. He gently cradled her face, as if the warmth of his hands could pull her back. "Don't do this. You can't." His voice cracked, the weight of his fear and desperation breaking through. "This has to be part of the trial, right? She's not really..." His throat tightened, unable to finish the thought.
The world around him seemed to hold its breath, just as he did, until something shifted in the distance. A faint, flickering light appeared, floating like a will-o'-the-wisp just beyond the edge of the clearing. Its pale glow cut through the shadows, guiding his gaze to the center of the field, where a simple stone pedestal emerged from the mist. Atop it rested an orb of light, glowing softly with a lavender radiance that pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
Gavin's breath hitched as the light pulsed once, twice, and then again, steady and mesmerizing. But before he could act, a voice echoed through his mindâa deep, familiar resonance that stopped him cold. It wasn't Merlin. It wasn't Felicity.
It was his mother.
Her voice drifted through him, soft and soothing, as though carried by the wind from a place beyond the mortal realm.
"Gavin," she called, her tone filled with warmth and sorrow, as though she stood on the threshold between Heaven and Earth. The sound filled him with both comfort and dread, as if the very world was shifting beneath him.
"Why now?" he whispered to the empty air, tears slipping down his face. "Why her?"
But the voice didn't answer. It lingered, gentle and patient, urging him forward toward the glowing orb. Somewhere inside him, he knew this wasn't just part of the trialâit was something more. And the choice he made now wouldn't just determine his survivalâit would decide hers.
"To claim the light, you must make a choice," she said. "Take the orb, and the crown to Camelot will be yours. But the girl will remain as she is, her life fading with the final breath."
Tears gathered in his eyes. "What? Mom? You can't give me that choice."
"If you wish to save her," his mother continued, "you must forfeit the orb. The trial will end in failure, and you will leave as you came."
He stared at the pedestal, then at Felicity. His mind raced, but no matter how he tried to rationalize it, the choice was impossible. Without the orb, he couldn't become king, and Camelot would be ruined. But leaving Felicityâleaving her to die? The thought alone made his chest ache.
Gavin clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "You can't be serious," he said, his voice shaking. "You want me to sacrifice her? For what? A glowing ball of light?"
"This is your choice, Prince of Camelot," his mother continued. "The fate of the kingdom, or the life of one."
Gavin dropped his gaze to Felicity, his vision blurred by tears he refused to shed. His throat tightened, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a crushing force. She had always been thereâwhen no one else had believed in him, when even he had doubted himself, she had stood by his side. Felicity had fought for him, with him, and never once wavered in her trust. She had seen something in him that he hadn't seen in himself and had pushed him to rise beyond his fears, beyond his limits.
And now, when it mattered most, he was supposed to leave her behind? The very thought twisted his stomach like a blade.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. His trembling fingers brushed a stray strand of auburn hair from her pale face. Her skin, once warm and vibrant, was as cold as death. His heart clenched painfully as he tenderly stroked her cheek, willing warmth back into her lifeless body. "You can't leave me like this," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Not you."
Desperation took hold of him, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against hers. His kiss was gentle, lingering, filled with a desperate hope that perhaps loveâtrue loveâcould awaken her. Fairytales spoke of magic in moments like this, of heroes waking the ones they loved with nothing more than a kiss.
But as he pulled away, reality crashed down on him like a thunderclap. This wasn't a fairytale, and it certainly didn't feel like one. The cold, silent air surrounding them mocked his hope. No soft gasp escaped her lips, no flutter of her eyelids, no miraculous awakening. Just stillness.
His shoulders trembled as he cupped her face, resting his forehead against hers. "Please," he whispered brokenly. "Don't let this be the end." The faint pulse of the golden orb still glowed in the distance, but to him, it seemed worlds awayâjust like the future he had once imagined with her.
"No," he said, his voice firm. "I won't do it."
His mother's voice rumbled. "You would sacrifice your kingdom?"
"I'd sacrifice anything before I'd sacrifice her!" Gavin shouted. He lifted Felicity into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "She's not just anyone. She's my friendâmy guide. Without her, I wouldn't even be here. You think Camelot needs a prince who'd leave someone behind to save himself? That's not me. That's not the kind of king I want to be."
Gavin glanced at the orb, his jaw set. "If saving Camelot means leaving her, then Camelot will have to find another prince."
He buried his face into her neck, silently mourning the loss of the only woman he lovedâthe only woman he would ever love. Tears streamed down his cheeks and onto her face.
Anger rose inside him from the injustice of it all. Why would Merlin allow his own granddaughter to die? But if Morgana was as powerful as the old wizard had proclaimed, then maybe there was no way of saving Felicity.
Sobs rose from his throat, tightening his chest. He'd do anything to bring her back, if only he knew how.
Suddenly, the birds stopped chirping, and he couldn't hear the bees. He heard nothing but his cries.
He blinked open his eyes and peered toward the orb. Slowly, the object began to glow brighter, its golden light filling the space around him, filling him with warmth.
His mother's voice came in his head again, softer this time. "You have chosen wisely, my son."
Confusion filled him. "Wait, what?"
The orb rose from the pedestal, floating toward him. Its light washed over Felicity, and her body grew warm in his arms. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as a soft, golden glow enveloped her.
"Gavin?" she murmured, her voice groggy but alive.
Relief flooded through him, and he let out a shaky laugh. "You're okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're really okay?"
The orb hovered above them, its light merging with Excalibur. The sword flared brilliantly, its blade glowing with an inner fire that radiated power and hope.
"The true test was not one of sacrifice, but of heart," his mother's voice said, but not in his head. It was as if she stood next to him, but she wasn't there. "Only one who values others above himself can wield the light of Camelot."
Felicity sat up slowly, her gaze shifting between Gavin and the sword. "You did it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "You passed the gauntlet."
He glanced at Excalibur, then at her, and smiled faintly. "This was really just a test?"
She touched her neck as confusion swept over her expression. "Yes, and I'm thinking I was part of it was well. I mean, I think talked to Morgana, yet..."
He cupped her face and kissed her lips. "You don't know how happy I am that you didn't die. If I'm to fight Morgana, I'm going to need you by my side because I can't do it without you."
As the light faded and the world around them began to dissolve into mist, the doorway to the outside world reappeared. Gavin stood, helping Felicity to her feet, and together they stepped through, their bond stronger than ever and their purpose clearer.
The gauntlet was complete. But the true battle had only just begun.