Merlyn's head felt fuzzy. His palms were sweaty and he gulped in a shuttering breath. His father? What? The faerie placed an impossibly long fingered hand on his shoulder. "I came to warn you. Before your dreaming. Or else you wouldn't wake. But now, you have to fight to the surface. Don't let go of the sun, little one," they said softly. A smile. Then the next time Merlyn blinked, darkness once again cloaked his vision. The smell of cinnamon invaded his nostrils and the feeling of feathers brushing his cheek alerted him to the faerie's passing. 

Footsteps turned to wings fluttering in the cave, then a sparrow called and was gone. He was alone. Then his head rocked slowly toward his chest and his hand fell limp to one side. The world turned, stars whizzing past him to explode in multicolored sparks. A chill erupted over his body as he sank into the dream. All around him, the stones sang a deep, low rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. Whispers. He turned, looking over his shoulder to see no one. "Who are you?" He whispered into the murk. Only his echo replied. Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who was he now? 

The air coiled around him like a cloak, silky and warm to the touch. Ahead of him, what appeared to be a forest clearing loomed, bright in the vast sea of darkness. He took a step, then another, and soon he stepped from shadow into soft grass. Birds twittered around him, sunlight streaming through the ash trees. A footstep behind him, and the archdwyd, wrinkled face creased in a smile, stepped around one of the trees. 

"You're finally here," he said simply, gesturing for Merlyn to walk with him. "If you are to pass this trial, you must come to terms with the information that was given to you by Puck," he continued as Merlyn walked over to join him. "Puck?" Merlyn asked, thoughts flashing back to the sparrow feathered faerie from earlier. "Puck," the archdrwyd confirmed.

 "He opened your eyes before you got here so you could see him. With the sight gifted to you in such a way, I think this dreaming will be unlike any other before. You are young, yes, but you'll see much hardship. Let's see if you can hold the power of our order in your hands and use it for the good of the Earth. She doesn't take lightly to those who misuse her gifts." He tilted his head to the side, motioning for Merlyn to walk with him. Merlyn stared out beyond the circle of trees, but there was no sign that beyond the shadows of the ash trees there was not the rest of the forest waiting. The archdrwyd followed his gaze, a soft smile on his face. 

"I remember being here in your shoes. Surprising as that may be." Merlyn sighed, rubbing his arms. "Sir, I don't understand what is going on. Why was my dreaming interrupted? Who is Puck? Why did he tell me those things about my family? Who am I?" The archdrwyd raised white eyebrows. "So many questions! I can tell you this, child. You are gifted with magic in your veins. Your father, your true father is a god. Do you understand?" Merlyn didn't want to. But he did. Even at his young years he was able to sense the weight of the statement.

 "I don't want this-" He blurted out, only to stop short as the archdrwyd turned and walked away without another word. As the white robed figure passed through the ring of trees he was lost from sight. "Wait!" Merlyn called, reaching after him, but it was too late. As soon as the archdrwyd left his sight the temperature in the grove dropped rapidly. Goosebumps rose on his arms as the sunlight seemed to fade somewhat, losing its vibrancy. What sounded like a soft gasp echoed behind him and he spun around. "Who's there?" His voice echoed off of the silent, unmoving trees.

 Not even a breeze disturbed the leaves around him. A footstep to his left. He turned. Nothing. "Who's out there?" He tried to look into the darkness beyond the grove, but the world was spinning too much. He wanted to either throw up or lay down, and a feeling of nausea settled over him. Something tugged at his hair and he screamed, falling backwards and scrambling wildly. Cold sweat dripped against his skin. The grove itself looked ominous now, barely recognizable from the beautiful scene that he'd first encountered.

 His heart beat painfully in his chest as he flung his gaze around the farthest reaches of the grove. There was no one in sight, but at the same time he had the strange feeling of being surrounded on all sides. A footstep. He nearly jumped out of his skin but forced himself to be still. Don't let go of the sun, little one. Puck's words from earlier echoed in his ears. Don't let go of the sun. On a whim, he reached his hands upwards, feeling the beams of weak sunlight against his palms. Invisible hands skated their way across his chest to dance dangerously close to his throat. 

But he gazed upward into the light. And the light swelled. Sunshine like molten gold bloomed around his hands, rolling against the shadows in waves. He let out a surprised laugh, stumbling to one side. His ankle rolled and he sat down suddenly, teeth clattering against each other with the force. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the light wouldn't fade. Hoping. Hoping. Hoping. And then he opened his eyes to darkness. Utter darkness. His pulse began to race again and goosebumps rose on the back of his neck. He forced his hands out into the gloom, feeling nothing. 

"You didn't think it would be that easy, didn't you, youngling?" A soft, sibilant voice rose from the murk beyond his fingertips. He snatched his hands back, wishing there was a tree or a rock he could put his back to. Whispers followed his movements in the dark, swirling around him so it was impossible to guess their true source. A laugh drifted towards him as if on the wind. If there was anything that would frighten the nine-year-old it was this.

 This and- no, it couldn't be? Could it? The low threat of someone lurking beyond his sight still prickled his neck. But this was much, much worse. The long, thick coils of a massive snake roped its way across the grass towards him, hissing. Of all of the deep fears of his childhood, this by far was the worst. He'd been bitten by a snake as a much younger boy and he could still remember the burning pain of those terrible fangs. It had been a small snake, little more than a tiny green garden snake, and his mother and uncle had comforted him in the way adults did sometimes, patronizing and hiding their smiles.