Far from the castle walls of Camelot and into the city of London, many citizens have returned to their lives long before the war of Arthur and Lancelot and then the war between the king and his son. Many had been born after the tragic events, and the name of Arthur began to fade as it join the names of his fathers and forebears. Scars on the buildings were long replaced and the horrors covered away.
With the king now dead, and no ruler with enough power to replace him, the city had become its own state. The mayor of the metropolis acted as if he was the head of a great state. His guards carried his heraldry and the castle walls flew his personal flags for all to his when near his city. Many towns and villages began to come to him for protection, and within a few years, he was considered the closest thing to a king within the area.
Kings from other regions tried to take the city to establish a firm footing, but the city managed to hold its own against all comers. Many began to think that the dark times that followed the great battle were finally over. The people began to breathe with ease again. Life began to feel bright and the future was promising.
As the night settled on the remains of Camelot, the city of London slept silently as a woman in black looked over the town from a distant hill. She held out her hands as she spoke in a dark, ancient tongue. The clouds overhead gathered slowly, gradually over the city and a mist befell all inside. As all were asleep, none felt their souls slowly being taken away, their bodies turning cold and empty of all life.
As the woman in black continued her enchantment, the clouds turned from black to red as the spell gathered more and more strength. Thunder and lightning roared and blasted within the great death cloud. The woman in black could feel the spell's fury as it went from house to house. None could escape its grasp, and not one was spared its terrible fate. She began to scream the incantation, her blood rising as the ecstasy of magic flowed throughout her body.
When all the souls were taken, the woman sent the cloud away to a place to release its murdered gains. She felt a chilled shiver down her spine, a knight in full armor rode up to her as she lifted the hood covering her face.The knight could see a beautiful woman marked the shadows of the trees and moonlight. "What news do you bring?" she ordered.
"My lady Morgan, the monks say they're ready for you. The sect is prepared for his return."
"Excellent. Go tell them I'll be there shortly."
The knight acknowledged and rode off quickly to deliver her message. "Just a few more moments my boy. And this world will see your glorious return. They will have their true king." A sinister smile grew upon her face as she rode to complete the ritual.
Morgan rode deep into the woods as the light of several fires began to appear within the dense forest. Figures cloaked in dark robes uttered an ancient language as they paced around the fires. The clasps of thunder roared overhead as they continued their macabre ritual. Morgan reached the central site, turning to the priest overseeing the whole scene.
"Is it ready?" she barked.
"In a few moments my lady, we're almost..."
"I don't give a damn about the details, all I want is my child back."
"Yes my lady," the priest said nervously as he called the men to the fire.
The men gathered around the large central bonfire. The flames heat made even Morgan uncomfortable. The priests kneeled towards the fire, raising their hands to the reddish night sky as the fire grew larger and larger. The roar from the flames sounded much like a beast from hell coming from the earth. The earth grew black as the clouds above clashed in a violent rage.
Morgan uttered another spell under her breath so no one could hear her. The embers of the flames soon began to fall upon the priest's clothing, igniting the worn tatters in sparks. Before the men knew better, the flames shot from the central pyre and dragged everyman into the flames. Their screams echoed from the forest. Now only Morgan was witness to this event.
The trees around the scene seemed to shiver from the evil spectacle, yet fate doomed them to witness the great horror. Morgan dismounted and approached the fire. "Rise, rise! Rise my love," she called out. She reached to the fire awaiting the boy to return. "Arise Mordred, come and claim what is rightfully yours."