Chapter 7: Chapter Six

The truck's engine roared as Gavin gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. He shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, but the street behind them was empty. No shadowy figure, no unnatural movements, no sign of pursuit. Still, the unease clung to him like a second skin.

They'd driven for nearly ten minutes in silence, the tension in the cab thick enough to choke on. His heart was still racing, but the initial surge of adrenaline was giving way to something more insidious... dread.

"So," he started, his voice breaking the silence. "You want to tell me what just happened back there?"

Felicity sat rigidly in the passenger seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her gaze was fixed out the window, but her expression betrayed her own tension. She took a deep breath and finally turned to him, her green eyes shadowed with worry.

"Just as I suspected, that was a shadow agent," she said quietly. "One of Morgana's servants. They're not human—not fully, at least. They exist to hunt, to destroy, and to ensure that anyone who threatens Morgana's plans is eliminated."

Gavin let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Eliminated. Great. That's just great. And let me guess—I'm one of those threats, right?"

"You are," she said simply.

"Perfect," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "You know, I could almost believe this whole 'shadow agent' thing after what I just saw. But what I still don't get is you. Why do you think you're a fairy? Why are you dressed like someone from a renaissance festival? And why should I believe any of this?"

Felicity frowned, her fingers tightening in her lap. "Because it's the truth, Gavin," she said softly. "I didn't just come here to find you—I came here because you're in danger. Camelot is in danger, and you are the only one who can fix things."

He sighed, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. "Yeah, yeah, Camelot. You've mentioned that. But you still haven't explained you. Why do you think you're a fairy? Do you even hear how insane that sounds?"

Felicity hesitated, her gaze dropping back toward the window. For a moment, she didn't speak, and Gavin thought she might try to deflect again. But then she straightened her shoulders and turned to face him fully.

"Because I am one," she said firmly. "I was born in Camelot. My father was human, but my mother... wasn't. My mother was part of the Seelie Court, one of the ancient fairy clans that lived alongside Camelot's people. That's where my magic comes from—my ability to transform, to sense danger, to protect those I care about."

Gavin raised an eyebrow, glancing at her briefly before returning his focus to the road. "You can... transform?"

She nodded. "Well, sort of. You see, I need to make myself small to fly. It's easier with my wand, but I managed to do it last night without the magic."

"Okay," he said slowly, his voice dripping with skepticism. "And let me guess—you think Merlin, the guy in my... whatever those visions were, trained you?"

"He did," she said. "Merlin trained me for years, just like he trained your mother."

The mention of his mother hit him like a punch to the gut. He tightened his grip on the wheel, his mind flashing back to the vision of the panicked woman in the cluttered room. Her voice, her fear—it had felt real. Too real.

"You're telling me," he said carefully, "that my mom—what? She worked with a wizard? She believed in fairies? And now you think I'm supposed to—what? Be the king of Camelot?"

"Yes," Felicity said, her voice steady. "Because that's who you are. You're Arthur Gavin Beaumont, the last living heir to Camelot's throne."

He shook his head, his frustration bubbling over. "This is insane. You realize that, right? I'm just a guy. A regular guy trying to get through law school, pay bills, and survive. I'm not a prince, I'm not a hero, and I'm definitely not anyone's warrior."

Felicity's gaze softened, but her determination didn't waver. "You may not feel like one now," she said gently. "But that doesn't change that you are King Arthur. The visions you've seen—they're your memories. They've been locked away for years, but they're starting to come back. And whether you believe me or not, Morgana knows who you are. She's sent her agents after you because she knows how important you are."

Gavin's jaw tightened, his chest tightening with the weight of her words. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but deep down, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that there was more to this than he could explain.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice low. "Let's say I believe you about this... shadow agent. And let's say, for argument's sake, that Morgana and Camelot are real. What happens now? What are we supposed to do?"

Felicity hesitated, glancing out the window again. "First, we need to find my wand," she said. "Without it, I'm at a disadvantage. And after that, we figure out how to awaken the rest of your memories."

Gavin exhaled sharply, his mind spinning. "This is insane," he muttered again, shaking his head.

"I know it's a lot to take in." Felicity's voice softened. "But Gavin, you have to trust me. We're running out of time."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air as they drove in silence, the road stretching out before them. Gavin still didn't know what to believe, but one thing was clear—his life would never be the same.

* * * *

Gavin leaned against the hood of his truck, arms crossed, watching Felicity pace back and forth. They'd pulled off onto a quiet stretch of road, far from any prying eyes, after her insistence that she needed to "show him something important." The way she muttered to herself and fiddled with the folds of her gown didn't exactly inspire confidence.

"Okay," he said, his voice edged with skepticism. "You said you needed to show me magic. Let's see it."

Felicity stopped pacing, spun on her heel, and gave him an exasperated look. "You can't just see magic like it's some cheap parlor trick," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It's an art. It requires focus."

Gavin smirked, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Sure, take your time, Gandalf. I'll just stand here and pretend you haven't completely lost it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "This is serious, Gavin. I'll prove to you that I'm not crazy—and that I don't need my wand to do a little magic."

"Great. Prove away."

Felicity muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously unkind, then took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She spread her arms wide, her fingers splaying out as if she were conducting an orchestra only she could hear. A soft, melodic hum escaped her lips as she concentrated, her body swaying slightly with the motion.

Gavin watched, quirking his eyebrow. "You're... humming?"

"Shh," she snapped, her eyes still closed. "I'm summoning energy."

"Uh-huh. Summoning energy. Got it."

Ignoring him, Felicity continued her strange chant, her movements becoming more fluid and deliberate. Gavin had to admit, it was kind of mesmerizing—until a sudden, sharp pop broke the stillness, followed by a faint puff of smoke from her hands.

Felicity froze, coughing as she waved the smoke away. Gavin straightened, staring at her with wide eyes. "What the—what did you just do?"

She blinked at her hands, her cheeks flushing. "That... wasn't supposed to happen," she said sheepishly.

Gavin stepped closer, sniffing the air. "What's that smell? It's like burnt toast."

"It's not toast," Felicity muttered, shaking her hands as if to clear them of the lingering magic. "It's just a little residual energy. Nothing to worry about."

"Residual energy?" he repeated, incredulous. "You almost set your hands on fire."

"Did not," she huffed, though the faint scorch marks on her fingertips told a different story. "It was just a slight miscalculation. Let me try again."

"Oh no," Gavin said, holding up his hands. "That's enough magical karaoke for one night. I don't want you accidentally setting my truck on fire."

Felicity shot him a glare. "I can do this. Just watch."

"Then move farther away from the truck."

"I'm not going to hurt your precious vehicle."

"I mean it, Felicity." He pointed toward the field. "Stand over there."

She growled and marched twenty steps away and stopped. Once again, she raised her hands as if leading a choir, this time, swooping her hands wider with larger motion. Then suddenly, she lifted her arms higher, stiffening them.

Gavin held his breath, waiting to see smoke again. Instead, the tall weeds in the field started moving rapidly. He braced himself, not sure what exactly was going to happen, prepared for anything.

Then she opened her eyes and looked down. Shrieking, she jumped and ran toward him. Following close behind were five white rabbits.

"Shoo," she shouted, flipping her hands toward them.

He cupped a hand over his mouth, trying his hardest not to laugh. If the situation wasn't so funny, he would have thought she was adorable.

Gavin shook the thought quickly out of his head. Adorable? Where had that come from?

Soon, the rabbits hopped back into the field. She stopped in front of him wearing a disappointed expression.

"I've seen magicians pull rabbits out of a hat," Gavin explained, "but your way is much better."

She squared her shoulders with newfound determination. "Fine," she said. "So, I can't do magic very well without my wand. Then I'll show you my wings."

"Your what now?" Gavin asked, his feeling bordering between amused and horrified.

"My wings," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They're proof that I'm part of the Seelie Court. All fairies can summon their wings."

She closed her eyes again, taking another deep breath. Gavin leaned against the truck, arms crossed, clearly bracing himself for whatever disaster was about to unfold. He had come to expect that with this particular woman.

Felicity concentrated, her hands moving in slow, deliberate gestures. She whispered something under her breath, her voice soft and melodic. For a moment, Gavin thought something might actually happen—but then... nothing.

She opened one eye, glancing over her shoulder. "Hmm. Odd," she murmured, flexing her back. "They're usually much faster than this."

Gavin couldn't hold back his laugh this time. "Having trouble there, Tinkerbell?"

"Quiet," she snapped, closing her eyes again. She tried a different approach, raising her arms as if drawing the wings out by force. Still, nothing happened.

He groaned, shaking his head. He couldn't let her go on. Thankfully, nobody else could see her. "That's enough, Felicity. It's starting to be embarrassing now."

She spun around, her cheeks bright red. "It's not funny! Sometimes the connection is a little... temperamental."

"Temperamental?" Gavin repeated, snorting. "Sure. Maybe they're just on vacation."

"Or maybe your sarcasm is throwing off my focus," she shot back.

"Oh, yeah, blame me because your wings took a sick day."

Felicity groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "I can't believe this. My wand is gone, my magic's being stubborn, and now my wings refuse to cooperate. I swear, this never happens."

"Mm-hmm," Gavin said, smirking. "That's what they all say."

She glared at him, but the frustration in her expression quickly melted into something softer. For a moment, she looked almost... defeated.

"Gavin," she said quietly, her voice losing its usual sharpness. "I know this all seems ridiculous to you. But I'm telling you the truth. Magic, Camelot, Morgana... it's all real. And if I can't convince you soon, we're both in a lot of trouble."

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and the humor drained from his face. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look," he said, "maybe you're not crazy. Maybe. But right now, all I've seen is some bad special effects and a whole lot of frustration."

"Give me time," she said, her eyes pleading with him. "I'll prove it to you. I promise."

He held her gaze for a moment before sighing again. "Fine. But if your wings ever do show up, I'm gonna need photographic evidence."

She smirked, the tension between them easing just slightly. "Deal."