The Sage

"Don’t count a person as dead until you’ve seen his corpse. And even then, you might be wrong."

(from the proverbs of the Bene Gesserit)

I was careless and foolish.

After my student—who had been almost like my son—the one history knew as Arthur Pendragon—perished, I scorned the ancient laws and openly turned to sorcery.

People believe that one day Arthur will return from the magic island of Avalon, where he sleeps without end and slowly heals his mortal wounds. They believe that when Lorgriya (or the whole world) needs a savior, Arthur will come and everything will be set right.

They are cruelly deceived.

Arthur will not return. There is no return from the Grey Plains.

For someone like him—there is no…

Because above all, Arthur is a child of the Law. He brought law into a cruel world; he strengthened that law all his life. And for the final triumph of the Law, he sacrificed his very life. The sacrifice was accepted kindly; the Law triumphed—and Arthur was no longer among the living.

And never will be, even if the world faces death. SUCH sacrifices are final. Neither living water nor the blood of the Crucified—also called the Savior—will revive him. For someone else, He might be a savior. But not for me. And not for Arthur.

Only a few know this.

From Nymie and Morgana—may their black hearts be damned—I managed to hide this secret. Viviana… my charming tempter, you couldn’t learn the truth either. Not enough experience.

The truth was known by Lancelot and Guinevere. They blamed only themselves and their criminal love, which, in their opinion, caused Arthur to take the final step. I didn’t try to dissuade them—because they weren’t exactly wrong. But I had to stop them from settling accounts with their own lives. After all, Love is also a force—and far mightier than the Law. Or, if we’re being precise, Chaos.

Or Death.