Reality wavered, absorbing the impossibilities about him. How could he have forgotten, that day so long ago? Eons had passed, imprinting ages of cataclysms, great wars, loves found and lost. But he should have remembered that blade.

He slumped to the ground, blood ebbing out of both of his wounds, streaming into the blade. The memory filled his mind, when the worlds were young and powers battled for dominion. He remembered his father, and him battling the fates themselves. Binding their powers so that the upstart universe could continue to be, binding them into that sword.

Somehow, the powers of fate stirred again. They should have known it would. How long had this thing waited in this forest, knowing that one day he would return here. He watched the dark knight raised his sword to deliver the final blow. His mystical armor failed against that blade. This was the end.

His sister parried that final stroke with Excalibur and the world trembled. Morgan la Fay spoke, “He is not yours to slay.”