The Lady of the Lake

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Inside the world's most notorious groups and understanding the people who join them. Something to note, all myths have many versions and variations. For this episode, we've selected those we felt are the most dramatic and entertaining and supplemented them with additional research into medieval British traditions.

Our myths may not always be the version you're familiar with, but we hope you'll enjoy them. And be warned, today's episode contains depictions of violence and discussions of rape. Please exercise caution for listeners under 13.

Through the ages I have had many names. Nivian, Enchantress of Water. Inveva, High Priestess of Fairy. Now, you need not know me by anything but my final purpose as the keeper of the old ways, guardian of a dying world. My people have told the first tales of this land, but we will not survive long. So I will relay to you all that I have seen. In the beginning, the land was alive. The water sang. The animals spoke. The earth hummed. Magic flowed.

of every being. For Eras, my people nurtured these woods and waters that you call Britannia. Never did I dream that we'd be forced to defend them too. It began with the advent of men. I was young when I stood on the cliffs and watched them approach our shores. Our prophecies had foretold their arrival, but we did not anticipate their violence. They cleared our wild forests and enslaved our creatures. As my people dwindled, we retreated, concealing what was left of our world on a hidden aisle.

They soon forgot about us, as they had new enemies, others of their own kind. More tribes arrived, and violence grew. Until the great and terrible war chief, Uther Pendragon, brought all the kings to heal. For the first time in many ages there was peace. But it was all too late. The destruction of man had taken its toll. Now the land is dying. I no longer hear the song of the water and earth. And the animals have lost their speech, diminished now to dumb beasts.

The magic has been bled out of Britannia. Everywhere that is, except for our sacred isle. Our last sanctuary, Avalon. Here we have stayed beyond the veil. A Fay drifting further from the world. with each passing century. But I have seen visions in the waters. A prophecy that man would re-enter our world. A young warrior, a king, some say. In the company of a wizard, my old friend. And with their arrival, I would gain yet another name.

Nimwe, Lady of the Lake. Welcome to Mythology, a Spotify original from Parcast. Every Tuesday we present dramatic stories from ancient mythology and explore their origins. I'm your host and narrator Vanessa Richardson. You can find all episodes of Mythology and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify. This week we revisit ancient Britain to regale you with another story from the legends of King Arthur.

So far in our stories, we've seen the unlikely king pull his sword from a stone, win his crown, and found his new kingdom, Camelot. But there's another essential piece of the epic we have yet to encounter the presentation of Excalibur from The Lady of the Lake. It's one of the most memorable images from Arthurian lore. Though the scene itself has become iconic, few know about the woman behind Arthur's legendary sword.

Nimwe, Nivyin, or Vivian, as she is sometimes called, is one of the saga's most elusive figures. Many believe her character predates the King Arthur legend itself, linking back to ancient Celtic water goddesses and the Gura Gith un lake fairies of Wales. In these regions dominated by aquatic landscapes, water deities were considered incredibly powerful beings. So much so that the people of the British Isles would place offerings in the water, especially weapons, in order to appease them.

It makes sense that the Lady of the Lake would be inspired by the enchanted beings of pagan lore, but through the centuries, as different authors added to the Arthurian canon, she would change shape. At some times the lady was a fierce, benevolent goddess. In others, she was an evil sorceress or Merlin's pupil and lover, but always she embodied a connection with another world, a world of magic.

To find out more, we must continue our story right where we left it on the waters of a mysterious lake. Coming up, Arthur and Merlin call on the Queen of Avalon.

Arthur awoke in agony. His head was groggy, his body ached, and his blonde hair was matted with blood. He sat up and winced. The pain was all he could think about, until he looked up. He was surrounded by a thick fog. Below it, stretching through the mist, was a vast lake. Arthur gasped. Merlin Merlin, where are we? Shh, quiet. Quiet. The wizard stood above him at the boat's mast. He held up his palm, cutting off the young king's words.

It was then Arthur recalled how they came to the water Memories flashed through his mind, his spar with the Black Knight, images of Caliburn, his prized sword pulled from the stone, laying broken in pieces. Arthur winced as another memory surfaced. He'd committed adultery and laid with King Lot's wife, the Lady Morgase. Merlin had called it a horrible sin. A darkness, he said, blighted Arthur. And so Merlin had taken him to the lake. But why, Arthur did not know.

He strained his eyes, searching for an answer. The haze was so thick he couldn't tell if they were meters or miles from shore. In the swirling mists, he felt as if they were at the edge of the world. Nothing was familiar. Even the silence was strange. No bird song or breeze penetrated the air. Nothing but the gentle lap of water against their boat. Then he heard a voice No, voice says.

A chorus of whispers echoed from the fog. Arthur's hair stood on end. He turned to Merlin, his eyes wide, suddenly wishing he had his sword, Do you hear that? The Sisters of Avalon. It's kind of a reverse siren song. A warning meant to frighten us from their borders. Wait. Are we? Are we in Avalon? Not without their mistress's permission, we're not. Not to worry. She's expecting us. How do you know? Because she's there.

Merlin pointed into the fog. There in the distance something approached from the swirling mist. The silhouette of a woman emerged from the water. It stepped onto the lake's surface and walked toward them. Arthur stared at the figure, speechless. Her brilliant white gown flowed behind her as she strode across the lake. Dark hair hung impossibly long at her sides.

Still dripping with water, she approached the small rowboat, and Arthur realized just how tall she was. She stood well over six feet, looming over both men. As a child, Arthur had been told the sisters of Avalon were the most fair and beautiful creatures that graced the earth. The old stories had been right about one thing: they were creatures. The lady's skin was composed of delicate iridescent scales.

As he looked up into her face, Arthur's gaze was met with golden yellow eyes, more amphibian than human. A strange, translucent membrane flicked across them. Arthur shivered. Merthen, it's been a long time. Regrettably long. I'm afraid I have aged, sir. But not so the Lady of the Lake. Merlin took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. A soft smile curled the ethereal woman's mouth. Ah how rude of me, Nimwe, this is Arthur, son of Uther, the one true king of Britain.

Nimwe leveled her gaze at Arthur. The young man stared back, all words abandoning him. Nimwe raised an eyebrow. This is your king, rendered speechless in the presence of magic. I'm I apologize. You are the first of the Fay folk I have met. I suppose I'm astounded to find that the old stories are true. We've long been relegated to fanciful tales. But that is by design. As your mentor can tell you, Avalon does not want humans sniffing about. And yet, he has brought one directly to our gates.

Nimwe, you know I would not have brought him here if it were not for a dire purpose. We need your help. The sword has been broken. A change came across the Faye Queen's face. She peered at Arthur, then nodded. Very well.

Arthur, son of Uther, welcome to the sacred isle of Avalon. Nimwe turned and swept her hand across the water. Arthur watched in disbelief as the thick mist dissipated behind her and the waters gently parted, revealing a path at the bottom of the lake. Merlin stepped from the boat and hopped down to the damp lake bed below. He then extended his hand to Arthur. Coming, Master Arthur?

Still in a daze, Arthur took Merlin's hand. The wizard helped the injured king out of the boat and onto the damp ground. They followed Nimwe into the fog until the path ended, and the water rushed down into a dark passage below the lake. Arthur watched as Nimwe stepped inside and disappeared. He looked at Merlin, baffled. The wizard just gave him a twinkling wink, then descended, leaving Arthur alone at the passage entrance. Arthur braced himself, then stepped inside.

He was in a narrow cave with a stream running down its center. He followed it deeper and deeper until the tunnel ended and he stepped out into the light. What greeted Arthur was the most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen. They stood atop a large waterfall which thundered into a crystalline pool. The pool was surrounded by a lush valley of enormous ancient trees. Arthur had entered a world below the water, a subaquatic kingdom. This was Avalon.

As Merlin led him down the stone steps carved at the side of the falls, the young king took in the canopy. A system of labyrinthine stairs twisted around the tree's mighty trunks, and lanterns glowed blue-green from their branches. Even the falls shone a brilliant silver, illuminating the gully below. Arthur realized that above the lake it had been daytime, down here it was night.

Just then something rushed past his head. He ducked only to realize a creature had flown past. They were everywhere, gliding around like dragonflies. Are those pixies? Yes, puckish little devils. Watch your step. Nothing would delight them more than to send you skittering into these rabbits. How do you know that? And how do you know her? I have spent some time between worlds in my youth. Complicated years, yes. But Euphoric.

Before Merlin could continue, they reached solid ground. The wizard helped Arthur to the base of the falls. Nimwe was waiting for them, and she appeared to be speaking with a donkey wearing a crown of wildflowers. Merlin brightened at the sight of the animal, Fancy seeing you here. Arthur, you remember Applecore. On closer inspection, Arthur recognized the donkey as the one Merlin was riding the day they had met.

I'm shocked to see you still in your current form. Perhaps you have found it fitting. Hmm? We were just discussing undoing your little enchantment. Nimwe gently placed a hand on Applecore's nose. The donkey's body glowed with brilliant light. It faded, revealing not a donkey, but a fawn with the torso of a man and the lower body of a goat. Applecore gave Merlin a withering look before trotting into the trees.

Let that be a lesson to you, Apple Corps. Before you try to trick an old man out of his supper, you'll want to first ensure he is not a wizard. Assumptions will make an ass out of you.

Enough! We have more pressing matters to discuss. Nimwe led the pair to the edge of the pool where they settled beneath the fronds of a massive willow tree. Arthur took a careful seat on a rock, his body still aching. Tell me, how does one break an enchanted sword? A foolish spar with an unworthy enemy. By the blood on your face, I take it lost that fight. Yes, but the Black Knight was not the cause.

I fear a great darkness has fallen over our Arthur's reign, endangering us all. Yes. I can see the shadow on the boy. But still, you have not answered my question. That sword was forged by my own hands, enchanted to only yield to the one true king of Britannia. If it is broken, It can only mean one thing. That I am not the true king. Nonsense. If Arthur wasn't the rightful king, he would not have drawn the sword at all. I know he is the one. It is prophecy. You have many prophecies.

Some of which you choose to ignore. Now is not the time. When will be. You are no immortal Merfin. You only have so much time. Merlin? What does she mean? Nimwe, I'm afraid I must ask you for another favor. I cannot guide Arthur from the darkness that shrouds him now. There are lessons he must learn that only you can impart.

I told you. Forging the sword was as far as I go. I will not entangle myself further in the affairs of men. My people have suffered enough. I know you have no love for humans, but They are interesting, worthwhile creatures. Full of heart and complexity. They are murderers. I watched in horror as they slaughtered my people and tortured the earth we nurtured. My home. It's too late for Britannia, but I will not risk the same fate for Avalon.

Arthur had never seen his mentor look so desperate. It scared him. He didn't know how Merlin intended Nimwe to help, but it was clear that without her, Arthur was destined to fail. Nimway, you used to be the keeper of these lands. You can't abandon them. Nothing. You're right. But you have let it go. You believe Britannia has been drained of magic, but it lingers. The land may be changed, but it's still your home, just as it's become mine.

And whether I like it or not, without me, it will fall into chaos. And what, little king, makes you believe you are the true inheritor of Britannia? I don't know. But I am certain that if I don't prevail, my people and the people I love, the places I cherish will be torn apart, just as it happened to you. Please. All I ask is that you teach me, so I do not repeat the mistakes of my ancestors, so that I may be worthy of protecting the land in your stead.

The Fay Queen considered his words, her golden eyes narrowed. I believe you, Arthur, but you are correct. You are not worthy of Britannia. Not without my help. Hi. I knew you would. Yes. But this is my last favor, Merthan. And I will return it soon enough. I will accept the cruelest of fates in your beautiful hands, even if it takes an eternity.

Merlin once again took Nimwe's scaled hand and softly kissed it. The Faye Queen smiled sadly. Watching this tender exchange, Arthur flushed from embarrassment.

Well, I suppose I shall take my leave of you. Wait, you're leaving? It's time you learn to think for yourself without my meddling. In the meantime, I've important matters to tend to. Coming up, Merlin seeks to correct a grave mistake. Hi listeners, it's Vanessa. On behalf of Parcast, I'd like to thank you for your continued support. Your loyalty has allowed us to keep expanding even beyond podcasts. That's why I'm so thrilled to share some special news with you all.

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Dusk had fallen by the time Merlin emerged from Avalon, he rode Arthur's horse into the woods, her cream white coat blending with the thick fog. Ah, come on, come on, quickly now, Shamray. The sun waits for no wizard. As they trotted through the trees, Merlin thought of Arthur. Leaving the boy in Avalon was a relief. There, under the guidance of the Queen of Avalon, he knew Arthur would find his way out of the darkness that shadowed his spirit.

the same shadow that had led Arthur to make such poor judgment calls, and recently the young king had made many. He had broken Caliburn and almost lost his head in a foolish spar. However, his gravest error yet was not really Arthur's mistake, but Merlin's. The wizard was determined to see it rectified. As Merlin reached a fork in the path, he pulled up on his reins, then he whistled into the mist. He waited, his eyes searching the trees expectantly.

A moment later, a tawny owl emerged from the fog and landed gracefully on Merlin's outstretched arm. Merlin leaned in, listening. Mm-hmm. I had a feeling she may be there. Thank you. The owl took off, vanishing into the mist. Merlin straightened and pulled the reins toward the westward path. Come, Shamra. We have a witch to hunt.

Across the vale and under the waters of the nameless lake, Arthur's time at Avalon passed quickly. In a matter of days, he learned as much from Nimwe as he'd absorbed in Merlin's countless chattering lessons. But it was a different sort of education. While Merlin instructed Arthur on principles of ethics, philosophy, and politics, Nimwe taught him of the true history of Britannia long before man had stepped foot on its shores.

She taught him about the unknown powers that made rivers run and winds blow, and the hidden things that lingered behind mirrors. But Nimwei's most valuable lessons were about the secrets Arthur kept hidden in himself. Tell me, what is it that you fear the most? Well, that's a rather complicated question. No, Arthur. It is perhaps the simplest question. Fear is always at hand. It shapes every decision and leads to each action. It is fear just as much as need or desire that carves our path.

I suppose I hadn't thought about it that way. In fact, I usually try not to think about it at all. Yes. Because in your world, fear is weakness. But if we do not know our fears, we do not know our fear. themselves. What is your fear, Nimwe? My greatest nightmare is already in motion. The Age of Magic is coming to an end. Now my world drifts further from the present until we exist nowhere but on the edge of dreams. Soon we will be forgotten entirely. I'm... I don't know what to say.

I'm sorry. Don't be. Arthur, I can sense your fear. I know it has plagued you for some time. Tell me, what is it you're afraid of? Arthur hesitated. He was so used to holding his darkest thoughts at bay. But finally, in the serene woods of Avalon, the words came pouring out. I'm afraid that I don't deserve this. Each day that passes, I feel less and less worthy to wear the crown.

I'm afraid that I will let my people down, that despite how I may try, I will still fail. I'm afraid that I will become a tyrant, no better than Lot and all the kings that came before me. And I'm afraid that I've already sent men to a needless death. And soon I will lead everyone I love to the same fate. Good. Good? Yes. You're afraid of power, Arthur. But I'm a king. What kind of leader fears power? A wise one.

Power, especially absolute power, is the most terrifying force in the world. It's strong, yes, but it's also insidious. It lives in you like a disease, slowly corrupting even the purest of hearts. Anyone close to you can become infected. Then who do I trust? You can't trust anyone, young king. Not even me. And Merlin? I'm afraid not.

When Merlin brought me here, you said something about prophecies that he chose to ignore. That he only had so much time. What did you mean? I may hold answers, Arthur. But some are not for me to reveal. Merlin's hiding something from me. I know I have done something horribly wrong. Something that has changed the course of our future for the worse. You said so yourself, that there is a shadow hanging over my spirit. I'm tainted. No, Arthur. That shadow is your spirit.

Or at least part of it. We all have darkness. Trouble only comes when we do not acknowledge it. That is the only way to move forward. No, I am in this mess because of the dark things I've done. Countless men dead in my name. and a sin so unspeakable that Merlin won't even tell me what I've committed. Before all of that, I was good. I was happy. No, Arthur. You were only young.

Is my soul not stained? This shadow hasn't ruined the goodness in me? On the contrary, goodness in spite of ruin is virtue in its purest form. Because it is a challenge. It is a choice. But how do I make true, pure-hearted choices as a king? How do I unite a country without bloodshed? You cannot. As long as men wield violence in the name of justice, it will never stop.

Then how do I deliver justice peacefully? Justice itself is a violent paradox. It is built on the impossible task of controlling chaos. Then what is the answer? The Faye Queen smiled, her amphibian eyes glittering in the dappled sunlight. Ah, and therein lies the lesson. The most important challenges have no clear answers. Arthur struggled to make sense of Mimwe's words. For three years Merlin had mentored him, feeding imparables and proverbs on justice and chivalry,

He'd taught him there was one clear path to rule, and all he needed to do was not stray from its course, to be fair, honorable, and brave. It seemed so simple. But Arthur had tried his best and still he slipped. Still, he had doubts, and now the one person who believed could guide him forward was telling him there was no path at all. Arthur felt tears sting at his eyes. If there are no clear answers, how do I know what to believe?

You must be comfortable leading in uncertainty. The only assurance is that we are all grappling in the dark. Here, let me show you something. Nimwe led Arthur through the trees to the heart of Avalon, where the great waterfall rushed into a cerulean pool. They followed the edge of the water until they both stood at the very base of the falls. Nimwe beckoned to him, then slipped through the wall of roaring water. Arthur gulped and charged after her.

When he reached the other side, he found Nimwe waiting for him. Behind her stretched a dark cave. The pair walked deeper and deeper until they were submerged in blackness. What do you see? Nothing. As soon as the word left Arthur's lips, a ball of silver glow bloomed in Nimwe's palm. it suddenly expanded, filling the cave with painful, blinding light. And now? Ah nothing. Stop. It's it's too bright.

The silver glare dimmed. Nimwe held it in her hand, wielding it like a lantern. Now, Arthur, tell me what you see. As Arthur's eyes adjusted, he gasped. The walls of the cave were covered in runes. In the silver glow, the intricate carvings glittered against the black cave. My god, it's beautiful. What are they? Wisdom from my people. Passed down through centuries. In total darkness you cannot see them, nor can you perceive them in absolute light.

Arthur, knowing your darkness, your fears, your flaws, will only make you a better king. You will not heal if you don't embrace it along with the light.

For three nights straight, Merlin had rode into the thick wood, his old Bones ached, and the path only grew harder to follow in the increasingly wild forest. Still he carried on, urging the horse forward. It was only when the trail beneath them disappeared completely that he decided to rest. Whoa, Chambray, that's quite enough for tonight. Merlin dismounted and stepped onto the forest floor. Then he smelled something: the aroma of smoke and roasted meat. His mouth watered despite himself.

He led Shamre carefully down a steep gully and into a steaming bog. There, a large gnarled tree sat atop the fetid waters. Built into its trunk was a hovel. A chill of recognition ran through the wizard. This was what he'd been looking for. Merlin crept closer to the hut, an incantation ready at his lips. As he peered into its dark, smoky interior, he was rendered speechless.

The burning hearth illuminated a woman in flickering orange. She crouched on the ground, her nude body streaked with blood and sinew. Beside her was the gutted carcass of a snow-white elk. With a horrible squelch, she bit into the animal's heart. Hot blood poured down her chin and onto her breasts. Hello, Merlin.

Coming up, Merlin duels a darker magic. Now back to the story. Merlin froze watching the gruesome scene in front of him. Lady Morgase, King Lot's wife, crouched naked above the disemboweled body of a stag. Morgace threw back her dark, blood soaked hair and rose to her feet. Why, if I'd known I was having company, I would have put on something more suitable. Do excuse the mess, been cursed with an insatiable craving for Elkhard since I conceived, which I presume is why you're here.

I had hoped it wasn't true. Pray to the old guards and the new that the greatest threat you posed to Arthur was his lot's wife. But I was wrong. You were. And you are a fool if you believe I need a lot for anything. Since Arthur has taken the crown, I have no use for the pitiful drunk. So as you can see, I've taken things into my own hands. You're a saboteur, drenched in blood and black magic. Merlin? Don't look so surprised. Did you really think you were the only one with talent?

I've been practicing alchemy, necromancy, and the shadow arts for quite some time now. Can a lady have her hobbies? You know of what I speak. To lie with your own brother. Half brother. Arthur should be so lucky as to share all my blood. Morgase pulled on a robe and rummaged through shelves of heavy texts and bottles, bundles of dried plants and animal bones hung from the low ceiling. Merlin stepped inside the sorceress's hut as she began to add herbs and acrid-smelling vials to a pot.

An abomination all the same. I did not think you would stoop so low, Morgese. Funny. At one time I thought the same about you. As a girl, I looked up to you. Merlin the Wild, enchanter of ages. I wanted to be just like you. Magic. Real magic cannot be taught. Perhaps not. We can't all be born from it like you are. But it can be learned. And as you can see, I've been quite the diligent student.

No, the craft you practice is depraved. A desecration. And now you've defiled yourself. My actions may disgust you? But your crimes against my family are too vile to speak of.

Morgaze turned from her cauldron, staring down the old wizard. Merlin met her gaze without a word. His silence only provoked her. Puck got your tongue? Or must I remind you of your sins? More gays don't. For years, Uther Pendragon ruled Britannia with an iron fist. Bloody conqueror he was. He expanded the land across the isle, securing frontiers and quelling his many enemies. But there was one thing Uther did not have: a woman.

My father, the Duke of Cornwall, served Uther loyally, but it wasn't until a royal banquet celebrating their conquests that Uther met the Duke's wife, my mother, the Lady Egrain. Upon seeing her, Uther was overcome with lust. She was another man's wife, but that did not deter the king.

Uther became obsessed with Egrain. He decided he had to have her for himself. So he went to his loyal, magical advisor, you, Merlin. He Appealed to you, begged you to help him get rid of my father so he could take her. I refused him. Now let's not stray into revisionist history. You refused at first. Then the great Merlin had a vision, a prophecy, that the childborn of Egrain and Uther's union would bring about the one true King of Britannia. Such perfect timing, I should say.

but you truly believed it. So you went back to Uther. You enchanted Uther to turn into the Duke's likeness, and in this guise he raped my mother while his assassins killed my father in cold blood. I was a child, but I knew everything. All that I did, I did for the good of Britannia. And my family? Were we nothing but fodder for your grand prophecies? Sacrifices on the altar of your precious boy Savior?

My misdeeds haunt me to this day, but I cannot rectify your loss, Morgaze, nor can you have a lot of. Control fate. Arthur was destined to be king. Arthur is nothing but a bastard, one begot in blood. So I created my own savior. I tricked Arthur as Uther tricked my mother and secured the next rightful heir. My son will be vengeance-made flesh. Your son will not live to see adulthood. That is my oath to you.

Is that a threat? You wouldn't harm a mother and her unborn child, would you? The just moral wizard you are? But then again, your past does beg to differ. Merlin felt fear rise through him like a surging flood. This witch and the abomination growing in her womb would be the death of all his dreams for Britannia, Merlin had never felt so helpless or angry. A curse formed on his lips.

A flash of blue light shot from Merlin's palm toward Morgase, the witch ducked as the curse blasted through the gnarled tree trunk. Morgay snatched a bottle from her shelves and threw it down into her cauldron. The potion burst into blood-red flame. Merlin struggled to breathe as the hut filled with noxious gases. The fire from the cauldron spread quickly around him, devouring the old tree like dry tinder.

The wizard lifted his robes to his mouth and squinted through the toxic haze, but he could not see Morgaze. That's when he spotted the hole his curse had created in the hut's wall. Merlin burst out of the fiery hut to find the trees of the bog aflame. He looked around wildly for some sign of the enchantress, but there was nothing but fire and marsh. Shamre was gone. The witch had taken the horse and fled.

Arthur sat at the edge of Avalon's luminescent pool as dusk fell. The pixies buzzed all around the blue-purple sky, lighting lantern after lantern hanging in the Phaeland's ancient trees. From the branches of one mighty oak, Applecore the Fawn played a mysterious melody from his flute. Arthur sat back on his arms and closed his eyes, listening.

He felt as though he'd been at Avalon for a lifetime, though he knew that in the world above it had been much shorter. Even still, he couldn't help but feel something was missing. Arthur thought of Kay and Morgana and of Camelot. though it had been difficult to look to the future with hope before his arrival, now he felt excitement at the prospect of returning to his new kingdom. After all, he could always return to Avalon.

Arthur laid back in the sweet meadow, letting Applecore's strange melody wash over him. Then, suddenly, the music stopped. The young king opened his eyes to find an unnerving sight. Nimwe stood over him, her golden amphibian gaze wide with worry. Arthur sat up, alarmed. The waters have sent me a vision. Wait, what? What kind? Was it bad? I'm afraid so. But I cannot discern if it is a vision of the present or future. Or both.

First strange dreams, now water prophecies. What did you see? An image of a blood red egg sitting in a den of sleeping bears. The egg hatches, and out emerged a young serpent. It breathes fire, consuming the cave in an inferno. And standing silhouetted among the flames. The bear is my sigil. Camelot and Merlin. They could both be in danger. As I said, this vision could be from any time. I can't risk it.

Arthur sprang to his feet, and the Fay Queen put her hand on his shoulder, He was surprised to realize this was the first time she had touched him. he felt a peculiar wet coldness bloom from her fingers. The sensation spread across his skin, as if he were immersed in the lake above. Nimwe looked at him sadly. Arthur, You may take your leave of Avalon. Once you cross our borders, know that you will not be welcomed back. At least not alive. Not until the final time. Are you certain?

As you told me once, leadership means being accustomed to uncertainty. We are all grappling in the dark toward our fate. And mine lies across the veil. Arthur rode across the waters of the lake and into the swirling fog. As he moved toward shore, he looked back at the gates of Avalon. Behind him, water rushed forth, flooding the path that led to the hidden aisle. Then, finally, all was still. The borders of Avalon were hidden once more.

Arthur looked into the thick mist and wondered if he ever again would experience the kind of magic Avalon contained. A tear rolled down his cheek. He knew the truth. This would be the last time. He looked back for one final look. Then he gripped his oars and rowed.

The young king sat up with a start, almost dropping his oars. All around him his name echoed in the haze. He looked out onto the water, searching for the source. Nimoy? I have one last thing to bestow you: a parting gift. Where are you? In reply, there was a mighty splash from the head of the boat. Arthur looked to see the tip of a sword pierce the water. He stared, awestruck, as it emerged from the lake. Its silver form glowed almost luminescent in the fog,

water droplets running down its length. Once it completely surfaced, Arthur saw Nimwe's elegant hand gripping its hilt. This is your new sword for a new era forged in Avalon's depths. But remember, its scabbard is of the utmost importance. As long as it's worn at your side, nothing can harm you. Or anyone who obtains it. Take it. Arthur leaned over the side of the rowboat and took the sword, limbs shaking. Nimwe's arm descended back into the water.

Arthur examined the weapon closely. The ornate scabbard was etched with intricate patterns, runes he recognized from Avalon's caves, Its pommel was the head of a roaring bear. As Arthur gripped the hilt, the feeling was exceptional. It felt like He pulled the weapon from its sheath. Blade glittered in the soft light. A new sort for a new era. This one will be called Excalibur.

Thanks again for tuning into Mythology. Our exploration of the Arthurian legends will continue in the coming week. Next time, the young king returns to Camelot and establishes the famous order of the Knights of the Round Table. We hope you join us. You can find more episodes of Mythology and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify.

If you enjoy mythology, you'll love my other podcast, Tales. Tales presents fairy tales the way they were originally told, orally and unadulterated. Every Wednesday we dive into the dark origins of classic fables. Убивай Туздей від анато епик сторі. Mythology is a Spotify original from Parcast. Executive producers include Max and Ron Cutler, sound design by Brian Gollup, with production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Trent Williamson, Carly Madden, and Travis Clark.

This episode of Mythology was written by Alex Garland, with writing assistance by Molly Quinlan and Andrew Kelliher, fact-checking by Haley Milliken, and research by Adriana Gomez. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Tiana Camacho, Drew Lawn, Melissa Medina, and Laith Walschleger. I'm Vanessa Richardson. Hi listeners, it's Vanessa. Exciting news, Parcast's first book, Cults Inside the World's Most Notorious Groups and Understanding the People Who Join them.

is now available for pre-order at parcast.com slash cults. Thanks to your support, we've compiled years of research, insights, and a catalogue of case studies to expose more about these cults and the people behind them than ever before. Details which Haven't even been explored in our Cults podcast. Visit Parcast.com/slash cults to pre-order your copy of Cults inside the world's most notorious groups and understanding the people who join.