always and forever is forever young
your shadow on the pavement, the dark side of the sun
The star pendant had clattered to the floor after it had been thrown; Mallos had heard it. He turned in the archway at the entrance of the cell and scanned the floor, searching for the tiny silver-and-blue symbol. Given its contrasting colour to the ground, it should have been easy to find - but he only just spotted it when Arthur stepped into the cell. There! His vision around the pinhole view of the pendant was blurred; they needed to get a move on. Mallos waited for Arthur to move forward a little before bending to scoop up the pendant, and spotted something else as he reached down: a glint of gold. The pirates had dropped a couple of doubloons and something which must have been loot: a golden medallion with a crescent moon on it. Something about it struck something in Mallos, but his brain was too fuzzy to work out what. He stuck the pendant in his pocket and went to pick up the medallion, but dropped it almost instantly when a searing pain shot through his hand. With a sharp, surprised intake of breath, he turned his hand over to see that the fingers were burnt red where they’d touched the gold. What…?

Then it clicked. Everything. He understood what the medallion was, and who it belonged to. He understood why Tristan and Thoth had come here in the first place.

He glanced up briefly at Arthur, who was walking towards Thoth, but decided to keep the revelation to himself for now. His shirt was short-sleeved and the bottom was entirely blood-stained, so he had no choice but to pick the ren up with his hand and move it to his pocket as quickly as possible. The brief hold left a medallion-shaped angry red welt on his hand. Mallos made a mental note not to stick his hands in his pockets.

On another day, the faint sound of the phoenix’s screeches echoing through the labyrinth would have brought a smile to his face, but he barely heard them. The world shifted slightly as he straightened up, forcing him to blink rapidly a few times to righten it again. His earlier trick, using divinity to translate to English for the pirates, had left its mark. At least Thoth’s pendant had worked; if he’d had to use any kind of defensive magic, he’d probably have passed out from the exertion by now. As it was, he was beginning to have a flicker of doubt about his ability to transport everyone home. Between the fairies and familiars, there were six of them in total - two of which were adult men and one of which was a large dog. At least Sperantia had decided to stay home. If the worst came to the worst, he’d just have to perform reverse-teleportation on the two boys and he, Arthur and the familiars would have to find another way off the island.

Tristan had gone limp in his father’s arms, and Morveren was dangling, unconscious, from Celidon’s mouth. Great. More dead weights. Mallos positioned himself between Arthur and Celidon, placing one hand on each and pressing his foot as gently as he could against Thoth’s side. Physical contact would help. Arthur said something - a question, from the tone - but Mallos’ ability to understand English was now completely gone, so it made no sense to him. He ignored it. Anything which didn’t directly help him to teleport everyone back to the castle was a waste of time, energy and magic to decode now, so he blotted it out and closed his eyes.

Divinity was harder to reach for, and harder to get a grip on once he’d got there. His reserves were all but used up. Mallos dug as deep as he could, diverting magic from all parts of his being - including the parts which usually maintained immortality and eternal youth - trying desperately to string together everything he had left. Sperantia connected with his mind and sent him everything she could spare, too, which wasn’t a lot - she’d used up most of her energy helping him with his previous spells. Mallos drew it all together and expanded his psychic reach, trying to get a feel for the five others he needed to transport. He imagined that they were all chained together, inseparable; where one went, the others had to go, too. Then he thought about where they had to go. Anything to make the job easier was a must, now, so he focused on somewhere he new intimately. The safest place he could think of, off the island; somewhere he had teleported to hundreds, if not thousands of times; somewhere he knew how to get to magically like the back of his hand. With a clear view of where he was going, and everyone he was taking with him, Mallos dredged up as much magic as he could muster and activated it. The world lurched and settled, he opened his eyes and did a brief head-count: five, excluding him. They did it. They were home.

Mallos let go of Celidon and Tristan and pressed his back against the wall behind him, feeling as though he might fall over if he tried to stay standing unaided. He didn’t need to look around to know where they were: his private quarters in the castle. This was the main, living-office area which was connected to the rest of the building. A two-seater couch and an armchair sat round a low coffee-table on one end, the end near the main door, while a desk sat in front of the window at the other end. The door next to Mallos led to the bedroom, and the one opposite led to the bathroom. It all looked very similar to how it had done before he’d occupied it, and was completely devoid of ornamentation. The walls were bare, there were no ornaments or pictures anywhere, and it seemed almost obsessively tidy. Only the desk gave any indication that anyone lived here at all: it still had papers piled up neatly on top of it from where he’d been working when Morgana came to find him, what must have been only a few hours ago. It felt like a million years.

Sperantia was slumped on the armchair. She gazed at them listlessly through half-open eyes, proving she was still conscious, but barely reacted to their arrival at all, proving she was only just. Mallos could relate. He was completely drained of magic and had just enough energy left to stay conscious, although that was only a matter of time - darkness was already beginning to eat away at the corners of his mind. His body wanted to shut down to self-heal. The only thing left keeping it running was a strong streak of stubbornness: there was no way he was going to pass out in front of Arthur.

The room hadn’t been devoid of people when they appeared. As they materialised, a shriek announced the presence of a maid, who had presumably been in here cleaning. Why people still bothered trying to clean his quarters was a mystery to Mallos, since they were never dirty or untidy. In this case, the maid’s presence was a relief. In seconds her cry brought a host of others to the scene - guards, servants, courtiers - who immediately started talking and taking action. Mallos left Arthur to sort them out, and sank down onto the couch, letting the noise and activity wash over him.


i can feel you in the silence saying, “let forever be,
love, and only love, will set you free.”