The House of Mordin (The Wolves of London Book 8 Series Finale)

Chapter 1

(Chapter song ‘Welcome to Horrorwood’ by Ice Nine Kills)

CORA

1012 CE

The hills hold many secrets. The mist floating over the green, rolling grass shrouds them. Many have tried to find the secrets,, and others…

Tried to bury them.

Horses’ hooves thunder across the open country, sweat marring the beasts’ fur as they huff clouds. Reins are snapped by hands covered in blood that isn’t theirs. Torn cloaks made of the finest cloth blow in the racing wind. Dented armor shines in the morning light as his heart pounds in his chest.

‘HA!!’

His blonde hair blows back as worry grows deeper with every stride his stalion make.

‘Faster, Valarius! Ha!’

‘We’ll get there, Drystan! Don’t kill the beast. He’s already been through too much.’

The fair-skinned heir turns to his second. ‘I shouldn’t have come! My father is on his deathbed, and I have to be out here killing hordes?’

‘You had to. It was court ordered.’ The second flicks his reins to keep up with the Prince’s batte horse.

‘To hell with the court.’ He looks ahead, broken heart clearly visible on his face. ‘If he dies—I should be there—’

‘He loves you, my liege. He won’t leave without saying goodbye.’

The prince lowers his eyes and clenches his jaw. ‘He better not.’

The two raced from the blood they were forced to spill in light of the King’s demise. With every slash of his sword, the boy wept for his father, and now he intends to battle the one thing he can’t control.

Time.

Fear and grief consume him as he prays to hold the only man that mattered. Unfortunately, the king’s demise is not the only one the kingdom will suffer.

Horns cut through the fog like axes. Metal harnesses rise and arrows slice through the air.

‘What?!’

‘IT’S AN AMBUSH!! RUN!’

The hills turn black with armored horses. Hordes cry out while raising their weapons to end the Prince where he stood.

‘RUN, DRYSTAN!!’

The two kick and snap at their steeds while the enemy bears down. An enemy who was not supposed to be there.

An enemy… who was stronger.

In the darkened stone walls of the king’s chamber, candlelight flickers while the man, too young to pass, labors to breathe. His sucken face shows the illness, but there is no name for it. The old man with blue robes and a white beard holds the weak king’s hand. He lays a hand upon his graying blonde hair.

‘We’ve come a long way, you and I,’ he says quietly as the nursemaids change water bowls and silence their tears. He leans to the king’s blue eyes as the king fights to keep them open. ‘You have no worries. Be with God. I’ll take care of the rest.’

The king’s dry lips part, and his wheezing increases. You can hear the pain in his lungs. His shaking hand rises as he tries to form words. The old man knows what he wants.

‘Shshshsh… One moment, Pendragon.’ He leaves the kings. ‘Give the man privacy in this moment. Leave.’ He orders the nurses out to their shock and they stumble to the hall where some of the court wait for news. They stand and watch him slowly close the king’s chamber door… and lock it.

The air was thick as the court advisors paced and nursemaids huddle together with fear. They watched the door closely hoping for news, but what they got instead was devastation.

‘HE’S DEAD!! THE PRINCE IS DEAD!!’

Barely able to run, the second screams through the halls. The council authority turns to watch the blood coated man collaspe in tears holding the only evidence he could get away with. The Prince’s crest, torn from his cloak. The head advisor ripped it out of the sobbing man’s hand and raised it up. His hand shook when his eyes fell on the blood soaked lionheart.

A click of iron has them all turn to the wooden door. The creak of the hinges felt like slashes from daggers. From the darkened room the old wizard emerges his face solomn and dark. Tears line his eyes as he raises them to the people waiting.

‘The King… is dead.’ he chokes as a woman in the back screams and collapses on the floor.

In one moment, a line of royalty that built the most magnificent kingdom in all of England was wiped out. No crown. No successor. Just the spirit of once was and Camalot was shaken.

With no heir, the court scrambled to decide what to do. They met around the Round Table, and the discussion was on the verge of blood.

‘We need a king!’

‘But who? There are none left!’

‘We must appoint one!’

‘We can’t just appoint a king!’

As the debates continued, the Cambion had his own plan.

The life blood of the White Castle wasn’t the boy… It was the magic. Powered by the very convergence of magic in the world, Excaliber was not just a sword. It was the heart. The code. The Guardian.

The lock.

Yelling and threats rose, and the loss of the Pendragon was felt. It reached the heart of the very stone that held the sword, and that sword… made a descision.

The kingdom shook; the council fled to the courtyard. The people of Camalot held each other in fear. They turned to the white castle shrouded in grief and Excaliber glowed.

It took from the what lay below and forced it onto the kingdom. Horror rose in the eyes of those around it as it shot a blue magic into the air. It spread and fell over all the land. The walls were coated. Doors slammed shut, vaults seized, gates froze closed.

The people stood in cofusion as fires left, wards broke, and the city once full of life, was now as dead as it’s king.

The confusion turned to questions, questions turned to protests. The people wanted answers and the only one they were given was Excaliber has seized the throne and it will hold it until another rises.

Unless… There was more to the story.

The court couldn’t enter the throne room; scrolls were trapped, tresuries buried under the powerful sword’s protection.

Excaliber wasn’t a sword; it was a failsafe. If anything should happen to the king, and his heir was no more, the sword had its instruction… Protect Camalot at all costs.

The court was stalled, unaware that Arthur made this agreement with the sword, but there was one who was aware this whole time and he came prepared.

He stepped out of the castle, stood in the courtyard and made an announcement that shook the very foundation of the royal line.

‘THE PASSING OF ARTHUR WAS NOT SILENT! HE FORESAW ALL!! HE KNEW HIS SON WAS BRUTALLY MURDERED, AND HE KNEW HE COULD NOT DIE WITHOUT A SUCCESSOR!’

As people gathered and watched the old wizard, the kingdom held its breath, waiting for some prayer to be answered.

‘HE DIED A KING! HE DIED WITH HIS HEART BLEEDING FOR CAMELOT… And his son.’

‘BUT BEFORE HE DIED HE KNEW WHO HE COULD TRUST WITH THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THIS KINGDOM!’ He reaches into his robes and holds a scroll on high. The people gasp when they see the royal seal in black wax on the bottom.

The old wizard holds it out and reads it aloud.

‘KING ARTHUR! RULER AND HEAD OF THE ROUND TABLE HEREBY DECREE THAT MERLIN!’ He shouts loud for all the walls to hear. ‘MY MOST TRUSTED ADVISOR… and friend… WILL BE CORONATED AS SUCCESSOR TO THE THRONE OF CAMELOT AND RULE AS IF MY SPIRIT LAY WITHIN HIM!’

He rolled the scroll tightly and handed it to the court adviser. ‘Starting immediately.’ He smiles.

‘This can’t be right!’

‘The Cambion? Arthur wouldn’t!’

‘It’s there in ink,’ Merlin points. ‘Are you going against the dying words of your king?’

The court knew they had no argument.

Merlin knew… He had won.

For Merlin, this was not a coronation… It was revenge. Revenge on the people who vilified his relationship with the squire boy he raised. Revenge on Arthur for allowing it. He was placed in shadow. Held only in secret. For Arthur knew that if the kingdom found out he was forged by the Cambion, Camalot would burn.

And burn it did.

Merlin retrieved the only key to freeing Excaliber and unlocking the castle. A keystone. Enchanted and encoded to dismantle the magical locks and release the magic, but he didn’t do this for the will of his people. He had other plans.

The triangle-shaped stone was walked to the fountain quietly, pouring water into a pool. Merlin stopped and raised his eyes to the sword. Light ran across its hilt.

The wizard bent down and placed his hand on the cobblestones. He closed his eyes and smirked. ‘I feel you… Soon.’ He rises and lifts the keystone to the vacant hole that matched its shape. He gently placed in the stone holding the sword and stepped back.

Excaliber’s metal blade rattled before it changed. Stone rode the blade, changing it from real to a figmant of imagination. A statue seemingly carved into the fountain itself.

Again the kingdom shook, and again the people panicked. The blue shield shone above their heads and blasted to the sky. Splayed out like a magic dust firework, people flinched in shock, and Merlin’s eyes shone.

The castle rippled and all doors unlocked. Camalot was freed.

The celebrations went for weeks, Merlin was crowned King and the court was satisfied once again.

‘As a gesture to remember our creator,’ the king Cambion decreed. ‘My first duty is to change the name of this powerful kingdom to one that’s much more deserving. From this day forth, Camalot will now be known as the kingdom of Arthur!!’

The people cheered at the selfless act for they loved their beloved king, and this will keep him on their lips for all time. Merlin was revered. He was celebrated. He was accepted as the best choice for the throne.

Just what Merlin needed.

Over time, the decrees becaome more questionable. The council authority. Disbanded. The court advisor, excused. Audiences became less and less, and when they did happen, they were with people who made the citizens of Arthur nervous.

Dark hooded beings with shadows just as black. Men whose eyes have seen much worse things than death. Women whose souls don’t feel right.

They came day and night in closed-door meetings. There were no scribes nor witnesses. No one knew what was being discussed and Merlin wasn’t telling.

The changes came quickly and as Merlin grew stronger, Arthur fell into darkness. Witches, warlocks, mages… The people of Arthur watched the dark magic rise in the city of light.

Sorcerers were governed harder, magic was restricted. Dark magic surged. The castle cried in pain and anguish as Merlin’s fist strangled the crown he said he admired.

Every bit of Pendragon legacy was stripped. Banners, seals, flags. He placed his own seal down as if it was carved in stone. He forced the people to their knees. More dark witches came in groups. Filling in the spaces between the Sorcerers and the laws came. Any resistance was faced with a swift end. Merlin’s word was iron-clad. When disruption and crime occurred, it was not dealt with. The people were placed in fear and servitude.

Merlin stood on high and ruled it all.

But his evil would not last long.

As the walls bled black, another thing was bleeding.

The Lake of Magic.

Dark magic was so depleting that the lake was drying. It’s levels dropping faster than ever before. Merlin knew that this was the result, but he did so for a reason. What lay within the lake was a man so dear to him that he would want nothing more than to free him.

Merlin’s father, Jude, incubus and the scavenger of a land predating the time of kingdoms and crowns.

He was locked for all eternity for crimes against his Almighty—the one who cursed his existence. The soul eater killed many, and it would be Merlin to let him rise again.

The problem is the key.

The key to the prison which should have opened the day Merlin set the keystone, did not do what it had promised. To this day it remains locked in Arthur’s tomb like an impenetrable vault. So, Merlin decided to take the prison’s power away. Drain the lake of magic, destroy the prison, and free his father.

But a secret council of sorcerers found out the truth. The six men of high standing in the magical order stood before Merlin and demanded he adicate from the throne. If he refused, they would swiftly depose him.

Merlin laughed. He controlled the magic.

‘I’m not going anywhere. Arthur is mine.’

He raised his hand and hit the sorcerers with a magic so powerful that they were killed instantly.

But he made a mistake.

One of the sorcerers was a beloved as Arthur was and that was one death that broke.

The uprising was swift. Hundreds of wizards ran through the streets, burning warlock hovels, destroying witches’ stores, and running familiars through.

The Witch Wars.

Merlin would not go quietly. He empowered his loyalists to fight. They did, all while depleting the lake faster. Arthur’s streets filled with colorful bolts of lightning and balls. Sorcerers gathered in clans and cleared section after section, determined to drive out the dark, while Merlin’s forces protected him.

The more he fought, the more the magic depleted. The more the magic depleated, the more the sorcerers ran out of time.

Arthur hung on to the brink as houses exploded. People fell and the city emptied. The witches were captured, warlocks beheaded, and Merlin was losing support.

The last stand came as a surprise to no one, but how it happened changed everyone that night.

Merlin stood broken, but still fighting. Facing arrest. Facing expulsion. The man who lived in privilege stood covered in blood and royal rags. The fallen tryant glared a look of death.

The sorcerers of Arthur banded. Six houses, every man, woman, and magically inclined child. They saw their oppressor and raised their hands. One by one, they drew colorful magic, ready to strike. But when a boy of 14 walked out of the crowd and looked into the old wizard’s eyes, no one was prepared.

The boy fought back tears and fear as he raised his hand with the others. He stared at the fallen king as he shook. And as he prepared to join his fellow sorcerers, his magic came, but not from him.

The sorcerers gasped in shock as all their magic left them and flew to the boy like they were called. His hands swirled in rainbows of light. Not combining like dark magic would… The magic was converging. Grouping together as if the lake itself wrapped around him. His black hair blew, his brown eyes welled with tears, and Merlin stared in disbelief.

‘It’s not possible!’ the old man shouts. He storms forward. ‘ITS NOT POSSIBLE!!’ he raises his hand to the boy; dark light swirls, and his destroyed face sneers. But before he can fire, the boy screamed and unleashed his power.

The colors shot across the distance and hit Merlin so hard that the outer wall of Arthur fell, exploding in rock and dirt. Merlin’s scream was deafening, causing all to fall. The power consumed everyone, but only did what the boy meant it to do.

When the smoke cleared and the dust fell. The space where the Cambion once stood… was empty.

Once realized, the kingdom broke in loud cheers as a single tear rolled down the boy’s cheek. He was quickly swooped up and held aloft as the savior of the city, though he didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it.

Arthur repaired its structures quickly, and the sorcerers enslaved the captured familiars to begin refilling the lake.

The boy was brought before a group of Sorcerers who appointed themselves the first true Sorcerer’s Council. He stood before them, nervous about why he was there.

‘Edwin Mordin. You are a second-year apprentice, correct?’

‘Y-yes, sir.’

‘Do you know… what you did?’

‘No.’

The councelors shared glances.

‘Whole-casting is difficult. To control and combine spells like you did… You shouldn’t be able to do it. Tell us. How did you converge the colors to make them work together as one?’

‘I didn’t do anything, sir.’

‘Nothing?’

Then the boy said something that confuses everyone to this day.

‘N-no… I just wanted everyone to stop fighting.’

The expressions on the wizards’ faces fell. They tried to question it, but could only conclude that it was a moment, a fluke, a glitch in the boy’s magic.

But that didn’t spare him from notoriety.

The boy was granted a high position. Head advisor to the Sorcerer’s Council. He held that position, and his belief, to the day he passed, teaching his sons and his grandsons the way of the advisor.

It was during this time that the House of Mordin was born.

The Mordins helped with many decisions, including the ending of the Witch trials. Through the wars, witches and their familiars were put on swift trial and executed even quicker. Edwin had one thing to say.

‘Arthur has seen enough blood.’

The Sorcerer’s war ended, but the factions were at odds. Merlin’s influence was still thick, and power struggles between the houses started to rise. Arthur was destabalizing again.

Until Advisor Mordin offered one solution.

Turn the trials into games.

The proposal caught on quick and the event would become larger than the war itself. Thousands of magical beings would converge in the arena once used to murder enemies. Now it was to sow unity and acceptance. It provided a way for the houses to become one.

No one ever reached the state Edwin did that night again. Many tried but failed, managing only a handful of dark magic. The council had to ban the practice for the Lake’s sake. Because as Arthur healed and set out to put Merlin behind them, they knew another Cambion lurked just below the surface.

He waits in the dark, listening for his chance.

But what they thought was truth was a lie.

The truth was much worse.

What actually lies beneath the sword in the stone is not Merlin’s father, but an entity so powerful, he can erase… everything.

Even the pages your reading now.

No light.

No dark.

Nothing.

What lies in wait for escape… is the one who can undo the beginning of time itself…

And there is no one on this planet who can stop it.