He surveys her childish work with a scowl. ‘I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.’ He utters something in a language she doesn’t recognise, the words full of harsh consonants. ‘Kallo vaer ditazh, zelab katch nichtum.’ His face turns pale and his eyes roll back in his head as he repeats the spell. She’s never seen him like this. It’s as if the chant is using him and not the other way around.

The girl watches in horror as a swirl of black energy appears at her feet. It buzzes like a swarm of flies, filling the room with the stench of decay, then circles around her in a whirlwind, rising up her body. This is nothing like the magic he’s taught her before. Nothing like the magic she or her sisters have ever done. This feels dangerous, depraved.

The shadow swarms into her mouth and she pleads at him with her eyes. Please stop this. But he doesn’t. She can feel his magic swirling in her gut, turning her body to ice. She gasps and splutters for breath. Is this how it feels to drown? Icy hooks pierce the soft flesh of her insides, tug at her heart. They pull at her emotions, trying to make her feel things she doesn’t want to feel. Love, warmth, longing. No. This isn’t right. She doesn’t feel that way for Merlin; he can’t make her feel things for him that she doesn’t.

The girl calls upon every ounce of magic in her, all the protection spells her sisters have taught her over the years. But Merlin is too strong. ‘One way or another, I will have you,’ he whispers.

The shadow slides deeper, questing and clawing, demanding that she give him her love. Desperate, she visualises her heart as a wooden chest. She crams her emotions inside and locks it with a key. She feels him trying to prise open the lid, but she won’t let him. Her body shakes with the effort; blood trickles from her nose. Before the wizard realises what he’s done, the girl drops to the ground, her lifeless eyes open and staring.

14

I push myself up in bed and take a deep breath. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. It was like watching a movie or reading a book, only it felt real. I knew exactly how the girl was feeling: the animal-like panic, the desperate need to hide her emotions. I don’t know why, but I feel as if I know her. And then it occurs to me. The face I saw in the bathroom mirror last night, the girl with long black hair and full lips – it’s her.

I pick up the book hoping to find answers, and my attention is drawn to the next page.

Some believe that Merlin now resides in Avalon (a place of paradise beyond this world where men do not age), ruled over by the sorceress Morgan le Fay and her sisters.(3)