Stop thinking about pee, Arthur ordered himself, which of course made him think about it more. He wished the Lady would say something to distract him. But she walked in silence, leading him deeper into the forest.

The trees here were so ancient and thick that their branches twisted together overhead, blotting out the sky. Leaves crunched beneath his feet, yet there was no birdsong, and no presence of animals. It was almost as though the forest was holding its breath, either out of fear or anticipation.

Finally, they reached an enormous cave, hewn into the side of a mountain. The cave seemed to glow from within.

“Come, Arthur Pendragon, and we shall see about that sword.”

He couldn’t very well return home without one, so he steeled his nerves and followed her inside. The ceiling dripped daggers of glowing ice and rock, and the stone floor echoed with every step he took. The Lady’s feet moved soundlessly, because of course they did.

“What is this place?” he asked.

For a moment, he thought the Lady might not answer, but then she said, “The tomb of an ancient king, whom history has forgotten. A king from a different world. This isle exists because of his blessing, and endures because of his curse.”

Nope, not creepy at all, Arthur thought.

The Lady ducked through an arched doorway, and Arthur followed. In the center of the room sat a raised tomb. As Arthur stared at it, he became convinced that the space they were standing in had been carved away, and that the tomb was part of the cave itself, like a statue hewn from a block of marble.

“Step inside,” said the Lady. “And the king will judge whether you are worthy.”

At first Arthur thought she meant the room, but then he realized she meant the tomb.

She wanted him to lie down inside the tomb. And be judged. What would happen if he failed? His stomach twisted with fear, and his feet felt frozen in place.

But there was no turning back now. So he forced himself to take a tentative step forward, and then another.

The tomb was covered with unfamiliar symbols, and he could feel a strange magic rising from within, first in a crackle, and then in a steady, throbbing pulse that deepened as he approached.

The magic set his teeth on edge as he lay down on top of the cool, ancient stone.

The Lady stood over him, and a cold, bright glow rose from the edges of the tomb. She murmured something too low for him to hear, and traced a mark upon his forehead that burned like ice.

And then he was falling.

He was no longer in the tomb, or the cave. That much was clear. He sat up cautiously, squinting into the pale, swirling light.

Not light, he realized. Mist.