Daylight is Mine to Protect

Kill the Trollhunter

It's hard to resist the power of the mark because it makes me believe that I should accept it. My own emotions are turned against me as I stomp my way to the surface. 

That command, "Kill the Trollhunter," keeps ringing in my head. I can't focus on anything else as long as it is there, reminding me of my mission. I want to kill the Trollhunter. I may be uncertain about being controlled, but that inescapable urge tells me the Trollhunter has wronged me. He deserves to die.

I don't bother making myself invisible. I want the Trollhunter to see my face when I destroy him. Or is it that I want him to run before I arrive? No, that's not right.

The surface world is hazy with dark clouds. I breathe in the life of appearing as I truly am. For once, I don't have to hide. Instead, they are the ones who hide.

The changelings spreading their influence across the town stare at me when I approach. Each one has something akin to fear in their eyes as I make my way through their ranks. I laugh with the thrill of it. Or of fear of myself. 

The power of my position has me drunk. Never before have so many parted at my presence and bowed their heads lest I kill them for insurrection. None dare to stop me. If any had, I would've cleaved through them like they were goblins.

It's easy to find Jim. His presence is like a beacon, drawing me in. Plus, the crowd of changelings and trolls: They're a pretty good indicator.

When the changelings see me approaching, they skitter away like beetles. I spot the Trollhunter standing over the broken rocks of a dead Gunmar. Part of me doesn't care that he died. Part of me is glad.

Jim doesn't notice me, but his friends do. They try to break their way through the changelings, but they can't get through. Good.

I draw back my bow and aim it at Jim. He must've sensed something because he looks up. I give him a second to realize who I am. Then, I release.

The explosion is like nothing I've made before. Loose items are blown away from the blast, and anyone who could see the shot covers their eyes from the dust. I lower my bow slightly, peering into the dust. Nothing moves.

I almost turn around when a shape leaps out of the fog. My heart leaps from joy.... No, fear. I raise up my staff and block Daylight with Moonlight. The Trollhunter growls at me. "You freed Gunmar! How could you?!" We are locked in a deadlock, each pushing their weapon against the other. "You personally did!"

I smirk. "That I did. What of it?" We are at a standstill, each eying the other to see when they would strike. "Your master turned me into a living test subject."

"You freed Morgana."

"You never came looking for me," I retort. "You only cared about stopping Morgana."

"You tried to kill Strickler."

"Strickler tried to kill me."

He snarls. I snarl back. He swings first.

No doubt one day, historians will regale the story of our battle. I don't remember most of it, to be honest. There are accounts that the magic of Morgana shot from my fingertips. Others describe our battle as shaking the earth. Some say both of us fought well past our dying point.

No one gets between us. Maybe because our hate glows off of us, amplified by our new troll forms. Maybe because they are awed by our prowess: the powers of Merlin and Morgana clashing in the sky. Or maybe because they were engaged in their own battles around us. 

It's strange. I don't remember the battle, but I remember the feelings. It's like I wasn't really seeing anything in front of me, and I all cared about was fighting to the bitter end. Even if that end was mine. The thought of such a tidal wave of hatred still fills me with emptiness and sadness.