Morgan le Faye experienced something new, being roughly dragged by her guards out of the dungeon. She noticed how these guards were silent and their brows furrowed. The pikemen of Camelot were angrier and ruder to her than ever before, compared to when they had feigned politeness for the sake of chivalry. She knew that their mood could only mean one thing: she was being released.

The sudden glare of bright sunlight hurt her eyes. She shielded them with a slender forearm, but a guard pushed her out on the lowered drawbridge. She stumbled half-blind and off balance. From her knees, she fully expected the hand of her husband, Sir Accolan to help her up. No hand reached for her. She blinked about to see where she could find him. The only bearded faces she saw were stretched over the skulls of her guards. The only other faces she recognized where the noble ladies of the kingdom, watching her from the castle windows high above with a haughty disdain. Their looks parodied pity.

She stood up on her own. She lifted her gaze and her chin high and pointed them directly in front of her. She began walking with a purposeful long stride away from the castle. Her slippers tapped lightly on the wooden planks of the drawbridge, and her once-elegant dress swished, loose threads plucking at splinters and knots. She felt the sun on her face and the almost imperceptible chilling breeze at her spine. Her senses took in every detail except the identity of whichever patron had bargained her salvation.

A twinkle of silver reflecting sunlight caught her notice and drew it downward. Isis waited for the Dame Morgan in the road. Although close to the ground, the rabbit did not touch the ground but hovered slightly above it, and her dress did not tickle the mud of the road. Wide eyes looked back at the dame with approval or perhaps amusement.

“Salutations Princess le Fey.”

Morgan blinked again twice. “Surely this is a fey spirit I see before me. Where fore find I my husband and emancipator?”

“Oh, your husband didn't get you out of there. I paid your ransom. You may call me Isis.”

“Isis, you are the fabled Lady of the Lake.”

“Expecting someone taller?”

“Aye, my husband,” answered Morgan.

“Sorry, I haven't seen him.”

“Then a pox upon him! It was my father, King Uther Pendragon, who arranged the ill match. Never once has he come home to perform his husbandly duties with me. Now, in my hour of need when my ill-conceived and hated brother holds me in a cell and sends the executioner's axe to my neck, my husband is no doubt at tournament or hunting with his squires.”

“Yeah, you don't seem very popular in Camelot. How about you travel with me for a while?”

“Go we to Avalon?”

“Nooooo, we're going much farther than that. We're going to visit the stars and then beyond. The journey will dangerous, but that's what makes it fun. That and kicking butts.”

“An enchanted quest then. Very well. I am done with Camelot and do not wish to ever return to it. Should I fetch goods for the journey?”

“You won't need your stuff, but I'll let you bring whatever you want.”

“Let my husband keep it all, the gowns and jewels and horses and estates. Camelot is the dirt beneath my feet, and I shall have not one more speck of it. I want nothing Made in Camelot.”

“Groovy! We can leave immediately.” Isis turned and began hopping towards the forest away from the castle. “Hurry up, Princess. You don't want to linger by the moat. People poop there.”

Morgan ran after the quick rabbit, unlady-like and struggling to not be left behind. “Fairy, leave not without me. Tell me what price was paid for my head.”

“I let Arthur keep that silly sword – and the scabbard. I call it Pooka Beads.”

The rabbit slowed at the edge of the woods just long enough to Morgan to catch up. Between gasps, Morgan said, “Wait, Arthur is a fair king, such credit I will give. Excalibur however is the mightiest of blades, so my husband has told to me. The scabbard is still a more terrible weapon as it makes even a clumsy warrior like Arthur invulnerable. The balance of power with other kingdoms will be uprooted.”

“Don't worry your pretty head about that, princess. Those gadgets take their power from me. When I leave, they'll be powerless.”

“Excalibur powerless? Then you must be the source of all magic in the realm.”

“Oh, you're smart too. Merlin never did figure out that part.” Isis disappeared into the bushes.

Morgan took off again. She ran between trees trying to keep the rabbit in sight. “Fairy!”

“I told you, call me Isis: Eye-sissss.”

“Tell me, how be you the source of magic?”

“It's complicated.”

“I beg it!”

“Okay, it's like this. You are a sorceress. You and Merlin both draw power from somewhere, but you don't know where exactly, right?”

“This is true.”

“It comes from me. I've got magic to spare, and I've been broadcasting it to this world for some time to see if anyone here could use it. Some items like Pooka Beads are there to get people's attention that something is up. Not everybody can use the power. Merlin and you are some of the few who are genetically compatible. That means your blood is juuuust right. One also has to know how to use it. You figured out how to use it before Merlin, didn't you, Princess?”

“Aye.”

Isis hopped into a shaded clearing. “You just kept it a secret, hexing your enemies and enchanting everybody else. Merlin went public with it, so it got harder to keep your secret after that. You've been a bad girl, haven't you?”

Morgan did not answer.

“Well, when I leave, I'll simply turn off the magic to Camelot. No magic weapons and no spells for Merlin. You can still cast your spells though because we'll be travel-buddies.”

“If your power is great, what need have you of me, Lady Isis?”

The rabbit paused before answering. “I'll be honest with you, sister. The place where I am going is dangerous even for me. My magic might not work there. In fact, I expect it to fail. I am going to need someone who can work my magic for me. I need a human through whom I can transmit my energy. I need a witch.” When Isis said the word, “witch,” it came out with a gleeful cheer. Morgan had only ever heard the word spat out with disdain, and she almost did not recognize it.

“I owe my life to thee, Isis. I will gladly be your servant.”

“That's so nice of you to say. I wasn't really giving you a choice though. I choose you, Morgan le Fey.”

At that moment, a shaft of white light pierced the gloom of the shady woods. The light filled the small clearing, enveloping both Morgan and Isis. Although the light was not painful as the sun's glare, Morgan squinted her eyes shut again in reflex. Then, they were lifted up into the saucer-shaped shuttle.