Chapter 41 – The Seal of the Bracelet
A wave of pure light, both gentle and relentless, swept through the streets, the plains, and the hills of Britannia.
Wounds closed, bones knit together, blood vanished as though it had never been spilled. Even hearts that had fallen silent beat once more, awakened by this sacred blessing.
The soldiers, petrified, realized that this was no attack but a gift—grace granted to both the living and the fallen.
The Breath of the Archangel.
A magic so ancient, so rare, that even the most learned scholars had long ceased to hope for its existence.
Among the revived, a body stirred: Gosh. His chest had been torn apart, his breath reduced to a dying gasp, yet the light restored him. His eyes opened to a world still shrouded in ruin, and before him stood a blazing figure: Arthur, upright, radiant, haloed with a majesty that transcended the human.
Their enemies froze in disbelief. Hit's eyes widened, cold sweat dripping down his temple. Ezer, the colossus, could only growl in confusion. And Fendreid, drawn by the brilliance that split the city's heart, arrived—his gaze instantly consumed by rage as it fell upon Arthur.
Then, with sovereign calm, the king's voice rose. A ruler, he said, is not only one who governs, but one who shields, who uplifts, and when the hour demands it, who fights for his people. Such was the greatest lesson his late father had left him. His gaze turned to his foes, and with a voice like judgment, he declared that he would grant them an honor: three against one, without restraint.
At these words, Gosh, trembling still, felt his eyes brim with tears. With a broken yet quivering voice, he asked how his king had managed to come here. Arthur turned his face slightly toward him. In his eyes glowed a calm, almost melancholic light. Look at your bracelet… he simply answered.
The captain reached into his pocket and drew forth the object he had nearly forgotten. It gleamed with a strange red glow. Distraught, he lifted his gaze, and in the discreet smile of his king he found the answer entire.
Five Minutes Earlier – Atlantis, the Eternal Ice Palace
The crystalline silence of the royal chambers was shattered by a burning pain at Arthur's wrist. The bracelet he wore had flared into crimson fire, pulsing like a frantic heart. His breath faltered—he knew too well the meaning of this sign.
Memory struck him. Two years earlier, in a desperate mission, Gosh had nearly perished. Arthur had hurled himself into the fray to drag him from the flames. Afterwards, he had entrusted this bracelet to him, forged by Merlin's own hands. At the time, he had explained that should either of them ever stand at death's edge, the jewel would blaze, and the other, wherever he might be, would know. Then… it is a vow, Gosh had whispered, and Arthur had sealed it with a look.
Now the jewel burned brighter with every heartbeat. Gosh was dying. Arthur clenched his wrist, eyes hardening with icy resolve. Hold on… once more, I will answer.
He burst from his chamber, his steps hammering the palace floors like thunder. At last he reached a rune-sealed door and struck it with a mighty fist. Merlin opened, weary features sharpening in an instant.
"What is it?" he asked gravely.
Arthur raised his wrist. The bracelet shone with blood-red light, staining the icy walls. His voice, steady but urgent, declared that Gosh was in peril and he must depart for Britannia at once.
Merlin understood in a heartbeat. He raised his hands, weaving a teleportation circle. The air trembled, the runes aligned—then everything shattered into fragments of light. The spell collapsed like broken glass. Merlin staggered back, aghast. "Impossible… my magic was annulled."
Footsteps rang in the corridor. Edward, captain of the knights of Atlantis, emerged from the shadows. "It is no failure," he said coldly. "It is the command of King Agnor. A spell of anti-detection has been cast upon the realm. It blocks all tracking… and all teleportation."
Merlin, furious, slammed his fist into the wall, splitting the ice. "Cancel it at once, or I—"
"I obey only my king," cut Edward in a voice of frost.
The air thickened, two auras poised to clash, one searing and the other frigid. But Arthur lifted a hand, and silence fell. The bracelet pulsed ever more fiercely, each throb a tolling bell. "Every flare is a step closer to Gosh's death. I have no time for your quarrels."
He demanded the distance to Britannia. Merlin, voice trembling, whispered: "Eight thousand kilometers… but—you cannot mean to—"
Arthur silenced him with a gaze of steel. "Remain here. Prepare tomorrow's council with Agnor. As for me… I go."
Without another word, he leapt. His foot shattered the marble, muscles coiled, and his body smashed through the palace's great window in a storm of crystal. Shards rained like stars, and through that breach, Arthur soared into the night.
Not as a man.
Not as a mage.
But as a living comet, a ray of golden light tearing across the heavens, streaking toward Britannia.
To be continued…