Shaking, Merlin stared at the girl's body lying on the table before him. The dream—memory—plagued his mind. This was his fault. Ruella was dead because of him. That's what the nightmare was trying to tell him. What they all are trying to tell him.

"Merlin!" Merlin jumped, his head bolting toward the cry. "Have you been listening to anything I said?" Gaius scolded.

Instead of replying, Merlin simply looked away, trapped deep in thought.

Gaius folded his arms across his chest and took the few steps toward Merlin, closing the gap. "What's troubling you?" he asked in that fatherly voice of his. "And don't tell me it's the dead body in the chamber. You've seen too in your time here." A long pause came, and Gaius took a step closer. "Merlin."

Hearing his name in that soft tone Gaius always used to coax the truth out of him made Merlin close his eyes and heave a sigh, trying to hold the tears at bay.

"I know when something's wrong," his mentor went on. "And I can see it's much deeper than what you're letting on."

Slowly prying open his eyes, Merlin stared at the palm of his hands. He opened his mouth and forced the words through his constricted throat. "I-I had another one."

"Another dream?" Gaius asked, leaning in closer. "You mean, last night?"

Merlin wrung his trembling hands. "More like...an hour ago," he confessed. His shoulders slumped and he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand it, Gaius. These memories—or whatever they are—hit me out of nowhere. At the smallest trigger." He swallowed bile creeping up his throat and gripped the bench under his thighs. "A-and the guy...in my dream..." He shook his head and glanced up at Gaius. "I-it doesn't even feel like me. It's like..." He clutched his red shirt in a tight fist at his chest. "It's like I'm an alien inside my own body."

He and Gaius exchanged glanced for what felt like an eternity before Gaius finally spoke up. "What did you see this time?"

Tightening his jaw, he nodded in the direction of the body. "Her," he whispered, unsure if the words had even escaped his lips. "I'm the one who killed her."

"Merlin, you could never do such a thing," Gaius scoffed.

"Then what could this mean?" Merlin exploded, leaping from the bench. "Tell me! If they're not memories then what are they?"

"They may be memories," Gaius explained, keeping his calm manner, "but they may as well not be your memories."

"But what if they are," Merlin cried, his voice catching in his throat as a few tears slipped past his lashes. He shook his head. "Gaius, I'm scared. My magic, it's— I can't—" He grunted in frustration. "What if it's growing too powerful for me to control? I've always feared what I could become with the magic I possess. I've done nothing but use it for good, but now..." His hands slapped his thighs as he dropped them. "Now, I use it for murder."

"Merlin." Gaius lowered his arms and his voice came out calm and compassionate—like the old man ached inside to watch Merlin fall apart.

He sighed through his nose and stared intently into Merlin's eyes. "Something happened to you while you were held captive by Morgana." Merlin's brow knitted, and Gaius held up a hand. "I know you don't want to talk about what happened..." He lowered his hand. "And I can't even image what she did to you, but... She's twisted your mind, Merlin. Made you believe your some villain."

Boots clomping against stone echoed through the hall from the cracked doorway, drawing both their attention. Gaius gripped Merlin's forearm. "Merlin, you mustn't say anything about this to Arthur. Not until we know more."

"But, Gaius, if I'm the one killing these people I should be locked up to keep Camelot safe."

"There's not enough evidence to prove it was you." Gaius released Merlin's arm and stepped toward the door.

"Not enough evidence?" Merlin yelled. "What about my memor—"

"Merlin, please!" Gaius whispered harshly. "Just keep quiet until they're gone. We'll figure this out."

As Gaius reached the door, Uther barged in with Arthur close behind, a couple knights flanking the prince's side. "Do you have any news?" came Uther's booming voice.

"Yes, Sire," Gaius informed. He stepped over to the table where Ruella's body lay and tilted her head to the side, revealing a large gash surrounded by dried blood that cut so deep the bone was exposed. "The cause of death was blunt force to the skull that happened during the fall. The right hit at the right angle. It fractured."

"And does she fit the pattern?" Uther pressed urgently.

Gaius raised the girl's arm. "Her wrist is completely burnt all the way around." He lowered her arm. "Just like the others."

Uther cursed under his breath. "I knew I should've gone with my gut after the first victim." He eyed Gaius. "Tell me, Gaius, have you now any conclusions as to what could've caused the burn?" He asked the question, but his intentions weren't pure.

Gaius lowered his gaze, acting like he was giving it some thought, before he looked up and addressed the King, "If I had to guess, Sire, I'd say the burn looks similar to that of a handprint. Even though the skin is charred, if you look closely, you can see the imprint of a hand."

"How is that possible?" Merlin's eyes drifted behind Uther where he found Arthur's bewildered face. "How can a hand be hot enough to burn someone without their own flesh melting off?"

"Sorcery." Uther placed his hands on his hips. "It has to be." He twisted around to face his son. "Lock down the city. I want double the guards around the clock."

"But, Sire, we don't know for sure—"

Uther swung back around to Gaius, his expression stern. "There's no other explanation! I already let you talk me out of it once and now five servants are dead. Luckily, that's all they were, but these servants could easily turn into citizens or worse. My son could be in danger. With the death of the servants, that leads me to only one conclusion." He paused, his gaze catching Merlin's whose heart nearly thumped out of his chest. "We have a traitor in our midst. Someone's harboring a sorcerer, and I want him found. I will not let you talk me down this time, Gaius." He spun around, his cape flapping behind him as he marched toward the door. "Anyone caught leaving or entering the gate is to be questioned."

Arthur exchanged glances with Merlin before leaving, and within seconds the chamber cleared.

"He clearly hasn't been the same since Morgana," Merlin said softly.

"No," Gaius replied. "Anything odd is automatically condemned as sorcery."

"And you think it's not?" Merlin asked, confused. "The fact that there's a burnt handprint on the victims?"

"I'm not saying it isn't," Gaius corrected. "But I knew the King would go frantic if I told him it was magic from day one."

Merlin couldn't keep his voice from rising. He thrust his hands out in front of him. "I would know because I'm the one doing it!"

"I refuse to believe you have anything to do with these killings," Gaius argued, his tone a bit more stern. "If anything, this is clearly the work of Morgana. Just give me a chance to finish my work and we'll discuss it further."

Merlin stood there, leaning against the table with his arms crossed against his chest as Gaius finished examining the burn mark on Ruella's wrist. His mind was racing with the events of his captivity and the memories since he's been home.

As Gaius placed the sheet over Ruella's face, covering her porcelain skin and brown hair, Merlin spun toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Gaius called.

"Arthur has a training session beginning soon," Merlin replied without bothering to turn around.

"Training?" Gaius shouted in disbelief. "I doubt Arthur will be doing any training at a time like this. Not when the King fears his life is at risk."

Merlin stopped at the door, his hand resting on the latch, and he twisted his neck around to look at Gaius. "This is the exact time he needs to be doing training. If there's someone out there..." a lump caught in his throat, "maybe someone who isn't me...he'll need to be ready to fight a sorcerer this powerful."

"I fear no amount of training could prepare Arthur to defeat someone with such magic," Gaius said ruthlessly.

Merlin stared at Gaius for a good few seconds before heading out the door. It was obvious Gaius didn't understand the reference.

If it came down to it, Arthur would need to be ready to fight him—a powerful warlock. But maybe Gaius was right. If he was truly capable of murdering those people, and if he wasn't in control of himself...

Arthur wouldn't stand a chance. No matter how great of a swordsman he was.

Hours later, Merlin finished fastening the last buckle on Arthur's breastplate. He had stayed quiet the entire time, hoping to get through training with little conversation, but Arthur must've noticed his silence.

"You're very quiet," Arthur said. "Not your perky self."

"Sorry," was all Merlin muttered.

Another moment of silence passed. "It's understandable," Arthur continued, clearly not wanting the conversation to end. He rolled his shoulders, shifting in his tight armor. He turned to face Merlin, the blue in his eyes darkened as his face fell. "For the first time in my life, I feel helpless." His tone was flat, barely holding any emotion. "You've been through a great trauma...and I feel like there's nothing I can do to help you." He adverted his gaze. "Just like I couldn't help you all those weeks I couldn't find you. You had to escape on your own before I found you." He fumbled with the leather gloves in his hands. "I haven't forgiven myself for letting you down."

"You can't blame yourself," Merlin said quickly, his heart breaking to hear Arthur's confession. "No one could've known where Morgana was hiding. Even I wasn't sure where I was exactly."

Arthur sneered. "If we had known where she was we could've put an end to all of this." He thrust a hands on his hip and rubbed an eye with the back of his fist, clutching the gloves. "Should've guessed she'd abandon the place once you escaped."

Merlin shook his head, trying to come up with a way to ease the Prince. "It doesn't matter anymore, Arthur." He held his arms out to the side. "I'm here. I'm still in one piece." Putting on his fake smile once again, he playfully punch Arthur's shoulder. "A little sparring will cheer you up."

Arthur's lips crawled into a wide smile, revealing his straight teeth. "It's hardly sparring when you're my opponent," he joked.

Merlin chuckled and hastily finished putting on his rusted and bent armor before grabbing a sword and shield. The helmet was big and hardly fit his head, blocking most of his vision.

Arthur, on the other hand, wore no helmet with confidence. He slipped on his gloves, yanked out his newly-sharpened sword, and did a fancy maneuver before aiming it toward Merlin's shield.

Merlin gulped and braced himself, praying his battered body wouldn't betray him.
They locked eyes, the silence of the Knights along the sidelines pressing in around them. Arthur advanced. He raised his sword and sliced through the air. Each time Merlin barely lifted the sword in time to block the blows with his shield—his muscles already ached and screamed for relief.

"Come on, Merlin! Put your back into it!" Arthur shouted over the clanking.

He would have, if not for the fear that any sudden movement might reopen the scabbing lash marks.

Sucking in a deep breath, Merlin straightened his back and steadied the heavy sword in his grip. Clenching the hilt in a white-knuckled fist, Merlin jabbed it forward and Arthur dodged.

"There you go," the Prince complimented. Taking a firm step forward, he advanced swinging at Merlin's head.

Merlin ducked just in time to avoid the blow, but his helmet—two sizes too big—twisted to the side and blocked his vision.

Another blow came. Another he avoided, but his helmet went flying as he stumbled.

For a heartbeat, he considered throwing himself down, feigning defeat to keep Arthur from taking his head, but as he straightened, Arthur struck his shield full-force, hurling him backward.

Without the protection of his helmet, Merlin's head slammed hard against a stone in the field, turning his vision black.