Coming Home

Prologue

For thousands of years, I have sat across from this lake. My heart aches as I remember my friends. The fallen warriors I have come to love through the never ending heartache.

I have watched empires rise and fall. I have seen wars of greater brutality than the one that killed my beloved kingdom, my home.

And now, I sit across from this lake, the watery grave of my king.

He never came. The prophecy was false. When Camelot was falling, he never returned. As his queen died, as the knights fell, as the kingdom fell into ruin, he remained asleep in his grave. 

I longed for an end to the pain. I desperately cried out for an end. Why must I live while everyone I hold dear fades into the bliss of death?

No matter how many ways I tried to release myself to the bliss of Avalon, I could not. Magic would always find a way to heal me and force me into a life I did not want.

I watched kingdoms fall. I watched wars arrive. I watched lives end.

And I could do nothing but watch, helpless, useless, worthless.

I was not free. I was trapped in this hellish world called home.

But then, the drugs came. 

I knew I shouldn't. I knew it. But the promise of bliss, the ability to forget  was well worth it. For me, it was a way to survive.

The drugs let me fall into forgetfulness when the memories became too much. It helped me find peace when the blood dripping from my arms couldn't.

The drugs set me free when the promise of his return could not.

I suppressed my magic, desperate to erase any connection to Camelot and my past while still holding onto relics from the kingdom. I couldn't let go. The stories of my youth trapped me, forcing me to remain in wait for him.

I was desperate for an end. I couldn't live with this for much longer.