"Don't touch that, Humphrey!" A voice snaps as Arthur reached out to a finger towards an urn. There were dozens, all lined up along the fireplace, like soldiers marching into battle. Pulling a face, he yanked his hand back. Humphrey. He thought savagely. He was going to kill Merlin.

The werewolf council were talking about the body- discussing what sort of sorcery it was. Arthur had, at first, tried to contribute, but then they descended into the realms of magic and- as far as Arthur was concerned- ceased speaking English.

"But would the continemtun balance allow the animation of the host-" Merlin was saying, gesturing angrily. It was odd, Arthur thought, to think, no, to know, that that old man, beard; shrivelled face and all, was Merlin. He looked nothing like him, apart from perhaps a similar tightness in his eyes.

Shaking his head, he continued his stroll around the council chambers, inspecting the odd pots, filled with ashes, which stood proud on the mantelpiece. There were grand paintings, of places Arthur didn't know, delicate sculptures of people Arthur didn't recognise. It was another world, consumed by arts, cultures, but most of all: books. At the far end of the chambers, about half of the room- already about the same size as Camelot's- had been enveloped by towering bookshelves. There must have been dozens. For Arthur, who had hardly ever ventured into Camelot's staggering collection, it was immense.

He poked around a bit, pulling out various books as he did. A guide to the lunar cycles. How to teeth your pup. Managing the change. One section in particular caught his eye. It was a small bit of the library, nothing more than a corner, but it had a sign hanging above it: Emrys.

Trying to be subtle about it, he shuffled over to the shelf, which had a strange blue sheen to it. He thought nothing of it, and plucked one out at random. It was old, leatherbound, with a throaty musk about it. The edges of the pages were yellowed with age, but still it was oddly beautiful. As if in a trance, he moved to open the first page, his fingers caressing the soft leather. A terrified cry broke him from his reverie. Merlin's.

He screamed Arthur's name, causing the book to fall from his hands. Suddenly, Merlin was right there. He grabbed ahold of Arthurs hand, and the next thing he knew, they were both at the opposite end of the room.

There was no movement, no running, just there the one moment, gone the next. Head spinning, Arthur staggered away from Merlin, vomit rising in his throat.

"What the hell was that...?" He tried to ask but no sound came out. His ears rang, a shrill buzzing drowning out the sounds around him. Gradually, he could just make out Merlins frantic voice in his ears.

"Did you read it? Did you see the words? Arthur! Listen me, Arthur, this is important. Did you read it? Did you see the symbols? Arthur!" He paid no attention to the fact that he had just blown their cover.

"Go'way, Merlin." He managed to get out.

"Did you read it!"

"No!  Stop... shouting at me..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Arthur found his voice, finally. "I saw nothing! Just a book!"

All the air seemed to leave Merlin's body. "Thank god." He whispered.

"...Why?" Arthur managed, but just then, Alaric and the rest of the council reached them.

"Did he read it?" Alaric demands. "Did he read it?"

"For gods sakes, no I didn't! What the hell is going on?" Arthur shouted, his temper rising.

The entire council seems to exhale as one.

Merlin took Arthur's arm, and pulled him towards the council table with all the force of a drifting feather. He led him to a seat, then took his place next to him. Mystified, Arthur let his body mold to the unyielding hardwood, but kept his back straight, his posture alert, wary of his surroundings.

"I told you magic was dying." Merlin began, his voice rough and low as he relived his people's suffering. "But that's not the whole truth."

Okay, Arthur thought. Although not impressed, he could deal.

"Its been happening for quite a few years now. Druids were born without power. The number of sorcerers decreased, then vanished, and warlocks went extinct. I've been- we've been- searching for a reason, a cure for months." He trailed off into silence, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He bowed his head, as if the very conversation was exhausting him.

"And?" Arthur prompted after a few moments of silence.

"And nothing. Nobody knows anything." Alaric interceded on Merlin's behalf, clapping a hand on the warlock's shoulder. "There's nothing in the records, in the collections, nor any writings of old."

Arthur scrambled to find words, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"But... what about werewolves? Isn't that magic?"  There was a sort of desperation about his words: despite his long-standing hatred of magic, he knew that it wasn't his enemy.

Alaric shook his head. "Not the kind you speak of. In our blood flows the blood of the fey: it is our blood, not our gifts, that give us the power of transformation." Arthur nodded as he absorbed this information, then asked the question demanding his attention.

"What was with the books? And why were you so freaked out when I nearly opened one?"

Merlin did not raise his head, but spoke quietly into his hands. "I am the last warlock, the last being left on this earth that can channel magic. But my power is not unaffected by this decaying world. I am... tainted." He seemed to weigh the word before he spoke it.

"What do you mean?" Arthur said, alarmed.

"Nobody can look upon words of magic anymore, not without severe consequences. You cannot learn their spells, those meanings, those secrets, now lost to the world, save Emrys here."

Arthur's throat was dry: he swallowed a few times so he could speak. "Severe consequences?" He croaked, wondering what horrors could have awaited him.

Alaric lowered his head. "At first," He said. "Sharp pain. This your soul, being ripped from your body. That much we have been able to work out. And then... then we don't know. The body vanishes. Just... disappears."

Normally Arthur would have argued the impossibility of this statement, but now, he was all too acquainted with the impossible.

"There is a legend, though." Merlin said, apparently eager to give Arthur some comfort. "They say a time will come- the time of the Listener. They say he will be tested- he will open the books of prophecy, and will be unharmed. It is also said that the white goddess herself will endow him with the knowledge of how to return magic, and that he will, with Emrys's-uh, my- help, return magic to the land."

"...Right." Arthur said, haltingly. "So who is he then? This... listener?"

Alaric and Merlin shared an incomprehensible look.

"Not a clue. All we know is that one day, he will open the books of prophecy, and learn how to save magic. Some have tried, but all ended with the same result."

He did not have to ask what that was.

"But... why aren't they locked up!" He demanded. He'd nearly met the same fate as those other poor sods, just because they didn't have a vault.

Merlin finally looked up- his face was chalk white, bloodless, and his eyes full of some kind of dawning horror.

"The thing is," Alaric said slowly, as if trying to keep his voice calm. "They were."

~~~~

Alaric pressed his hand again the barrier protecting the shelf, then drew back with a slight hiss. Blue lightening arced towards his palm, but he yanked himself out of harms way. The light cracked through the air, snapping like a whip as it reached it's apex, then retreated back into the wall.

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur turned to Merlin.

"Your handiwork, I presume?"

He inclined his head slightly, then mumbled a few words in a language Arthur didn't understand. The blue lightening still jumped as he placed his hand on- no, through the barrier, but did not seem to hurt him, as he picked up the book that Arthur dropped earlier, and placed it, as casual as you like, back on the shelf.

"How did I not get... you know... zapped?" Arthur said hesitantly.

Alaric met him, stare for stare; open; judging. "I don't know." He replied quietly. "But I know I want to find out."

~~~~~~

The three of them re-joined the council, who had stayed seated.

~~~~~~

"But how did the repelent charm not affect the boy?"

"I just said we don't know..."

"There must be some explanation."

"Can you think of one?"

"Could he be immune to your powers?"

"No, he isn't."

"Then how did the charm not effect him?"

Arthur wanted to bang his head on the table, if only to make them shut up. They had been doing this for ages, talking around themselves, repeating, changing nothing. It seemed Alaric was as impatient as he was: he stood suddenly, with a look of drawn surliness, as if the council had just dragged him out of bed.

"Quiet." He snapped, and everyone immediately was.

"The answer is clear, and you are fools not to see it." He announced. Merlin bit his lip, seeming to know what Alaric was going to say.

"What one person could defy the great Emrys?" He began, gesturing to Merlin's small, bowed figure. "What one person could so easliy breach the laws of impossibility?"

"What are you saying, Sire?" A minute voice asked. "Has the Listener given him power?"

"No, you fool. I'm saying that this boy, this... Humphrey... he is the Listener. He will read the books of old. He will learn of the White goddesses plan. And," Alaric's voice was deathly quiet. "He will save us all."

~~~

There are so many bad dun dun dun moments in here- rereading this a few years later and its just cringy. Sorry guys >._.<