#rclof

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. O som de algo vibrando continuava insistentemente e Neraj já estava a ponto de perder a paciência. Maldito celular, por que havia levado aquilo para o acampamento? Não servia para nada além de tirá-lo do sério. Raramente recebia ligações na Índia, em Andalasia menos ainda. Deveria ter imaginado que a recepção de sinal seria péssima em uma ilha, localizada no meio do nada, e deixado o aparelho em casa. Não entendia como funcionava aquele tipo de tecnologia, mas detestava o fato de não conseguir falar com seus pais enquanto recebia mensagens inúteis de Korak e outros campistas vez ou outra. Sequer se importava em saber qual era o assunto do momento, só queria encontrar seu Nokia 3310 para desligá-lo e não ver aquela tela verde por um bom tempo.

Quando abriu a quarta gaveta da cômoda, o som ficou mais alto e sua esperança de encontrá-lo logo aumentou. Neraj não havia levado muitas coisas para o acampamento, de modo que suas roupas não faziam muito volume e era possível notar qualquer saliência anormal no meio delas. Em uma peça que não usava desde a festa de noivado de Korak, notou uma deformação que poderia ser o sinal de que seu celular estava escondido embaixo do tecido — o que não era estranho quando se tratava de Neraj, considerando que ele frequentemente deixava o aparelho em lugares improváveis para esquecer-se de sua existência. Levantou uma, duas, três peças de roupa e encontrou o que estava formando o relevo no tecido, mas não era seu celular.

  Merlin leaned away from the screen of his rectangular device (laptop, he think he heard someone tell him), though his fingers still hovered over the keys. It had taken Merlin a while to bring the object to life, and with a little help of his magic after all ideas evaded him and proved fruitless, he managed to somehow find his way onto this...place and make what was called an 'account'.

 It was an odd little contraption truth be told, but it was pretty handy. If only they had these back in Camelot, communication would be so much quicker and easier!

 Camelot.

 A bit of a frown managed to etch its way onto Merlin's features, and his eyes dropped from the screen to his fingers which came to rest on the keys lightly. He wondered how everyone was doing there, how Gaius was faring. At least Guinevere, Arthur and him were together here, so Merlin wouldn't have to worry as much as he would have if he wasn't back home to protect the King, or here if Arthur had come and Merlin hadn't. But Merlin had no doubt that back in Camelot, the kingdom was in chaos with the sudden disappearance of both their King, Queen, and some of their knights (no one would care or notice the loss of a servant, except for Gaius, but Gaius knew him personally). 

  If only there was a way to be able to get back to them, but Merlin knew of no such spell, and all of the books that may have possibly had such a spell in it were back in Camelot. Merlin wasn't even sure if it was magic that brought them here, or even if his magic would work to bring them back. Either way, something had to be done, quickly. Even though Arthur was safe, Camelot wasn't, and wouldn't be for much long when others found out about King Arthur being missing from the throne. It would undoubtedly bring attack onto Camelot. 

  It wasn't as if Merlin would be able to practice magic here freely, either, no matter the fact they weren't in Camelot anymore and magic wasn't outlawed (he wasn't even sure if magic here existed, but the appearance of bright flickering flames in the palm of his hand told him that he at the very least still had his own). Whereas Merlin should have felt a bit liberated, at ease and free to practice magic more openly...It seemed it would be just the opposite. There were more eyes here, eyes from strangers and Merlin had no idea what they would do if they found out. And not only were there strangers, Arthur was here too, the very person Merlin was keeping his magic a secret from, had been keeping it a secret from for years now (and the guilt gnawed away at Merlin like termites, leaving him skittish and impatient and nervous for the day when all would be revealed, how Arthur would react).

And Morgana was here.

 Morgana, who, didn't seem as hostile towards him as before. Well, in the beginning she was, but amazingly enough, they had eased towards some sort of weary ceasefire, treading on thin ice, just between the cracks that could break at any given moment and send them reeling far away from each other again. 

  Merlin swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did, and his eyes twitched a bit, a bit of a nervous tick he had whenever faced with heavy emotions or intense situations. The guilt Merlin harbored for poisoning Morgana...He doubted it would ever go away. No matter the situation, the price that was at stake, Merlin had poisoned his friend, the one who had trusted him. It was for the greater good for Arthur, for Guinevere and Gaius and all of Camelot, but Merlin had betrayed his friend nonetheless. 

  But he wasn't the only one.

 Morgana had betrayed them back, and though Merlin knew he had no room to speak in terms of himself, he truly didn't understand how Morgana would seek to have both Arthur and Guinevere killed. Her friends. Her former friends, now. Merlin reminded himself, glad that he was in the comfort and privacy of his own room for the moment. 

 And yet...yet despite it all, Merlin couldn't help but still hold on and cling to that hope - that tiny, dim hope that was so close to being snuffed out but holding out stubbornly anyway - that Kilgharra was wrong. Just a bit. That Morgana wouldn't kill Arthur (and she wouldn't, Merlin would make sure of that, even if and when she tried). That Merlin wouldn't have to try and kill her himself. 

  But Merlin wasn't stupid, contrary to popular belief. He wasn't dim, nor was he blind. A bit naive in the sense he was a bit too trusting, too close to the people he shouldn't be close to, but not blind or stupid. Merlin knew he couldn't trust Morgana, and he didn't. He wasn't sure he could anymore, not while she was still plotting to take over the throne and kill his closest friends. But he could hope, couldn't he? He wouldn't forget all that had happened, all that would soon come to pass, but maybe if he could talk to Morgana a bit more...Maybe Merlin could convince her. Just maybe.

 But if he couldn't, if there was no other path for them to take but to face each other down...Then there was no other way. 

  Merlin closed his eyes, feeling like a stone had sunk in his stomach - as big and heavy as the one he claimed had hit him. Maybe it had, and he had somehow swallowed it, because he felt it there in the pit of his belly.