Soon, we are in the middle of a swirling hurricane of magic. Each time his mage flame rotates, it picks up other colors, some deep blue and near navy—the ghosts of Merlins’ flames past still embedded in the soil. The Regents brace themselves on the bank, planting their feet against the rush of old power.

Aldrich calls to me. “Take the hilt, please.”

My fingers hover over Excalibur. Its aether ripples against my palm, pulling my hand toward it like a magnet. With a deep, fast inhale, I grasp the hilt and grit my teeth against the energy that shoots from the aether-forged sword up my arm and into my elbow. In response, the blade hums a low and rhythmic pulse like drums in my skull, rising steadily to a hungry roar.

“Rhyfelgri,” Cestra breathes. “The war cry.”

“The shadows have risen,” Aldrich’s voice reaches me over the wind. “Will you swear, as king, to rise in return?”

I can stop any Oath from binding me, just as I can resist mesmer. But I have been preparing to take this one all month. To claim my title in full, the magic needs to be a part of me.

“I swear”—as I speak, the Oath wraps around my ankles—“that as king I will rise ready to dispel the shadows.”

“Do you swear,” Cestra begins, “as king, to take as your own the weight of the blood of the world?”

“I swear”—the Oath loops bands around my waist, pulling tight—“to take as my own the weight…” I gasp as the aether squeezes around my chest. “To take as my own the weight of the world.”

The Oath is eating its way into my body, my cells, running down my veins. I remind myself that this is the price I’ve been preparing to pay, but it takes all of my strength not to put an end to it right now.

“And do you,” Gabriel intones, watching me carefully, “as king, swear to serve the Order’s mission above all others, unto your death?”

The cold fingers of the ancient Oath weave around my throat, stretching up my jaw and into my hairline, joining together over my skull to complete the network of promises.

“I swear,” I swallow, “to serve the Order’s mission above all others, unto my death.”

“By your blood, on your heart, seal your Oaths with the Round Table,” Erebus commands. “Unite the Table first in spirit, so that you may soon unite their Scions in flesh.”

Only after these commitments have been made can I meet Arthur’s knights in spirit, and pledge to lead and serve their Scions in life.

Oaths taken, received, and given. Oaths to spirits, to flesh, to bind.

I raise Excalibur in a salute, holding the blade upright before my face so that I see my dark eyes reflected back, and carefully set my palm against it.

“By my blood…”