From the age of ten, I wrote the events in my life down as they occurred. I loved writing from the moment my father began to teach me. As a bard, the tales I told couldn't be written down. They'd lose their power if they were. But my own life held no great power or mystery. Or so I thought. And so I wrote— only for the love of it.

Now times have changed and if stories aren't written down, they are forgotten or lost altogether. As what has happened to my brother, Melehan. His place in the tale of Camelot has been all but forgotten since he followed Avalon into the fairy otherworld. Since the Saxons took Britain.

So I have taken my writings and compiled them into a story. I thought of simply ordering my writings chronologically, but even in this new age I remain a bard. A good legend, a good tale deserves to be told with the lyrical embellishments of a good bard. And I have always fancied myself as such.

And so I present here The Soul of Camelot. The story of my brother, Melehan, and the part he played within the Pendragon Prophecy.

-Melou Pendragon


Nimue awoke with a start— sitting up and clapping her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her body shook as she tried to draw in deep breaths through her nose while keeping her mouth clamped shut. She couldn't scream. She wouldn't.

Finally she stopped shaking enough to climb out of the large bed that could, and often did, hold four adults. Tonight was no different and she had to move carefully to keep from waking the three other occupants. Her feet touched the ground and she hurried out of the king's suite without a backward glance.

Once out in the dark corridor, Nimue leaned against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. She was now able to draw in deep breaths through her mouth as she ran her hands through her tangled curls. The nightmare was fresh in her mind and no matted how hard she tried, she couldn't stop shaking.

The door opened and Nimue looked up, afraid it was Yvain or Galahad coming to check on her. But it was only Laudine. Nimue was grateful. In many ways, Laudine was easier to talk to than either of the two men Nimue had known for almost all her life.

"Nimue?" Laudine asked, kneeling down next to her and running a hand along the Enchantress' cheek. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Something is coming," Nimue managed to say through chattering teeth. "Something terrible."