Deep in the forest, crows cawed from their perches. They were not the only ones who lived here. There was also a hut, which was home to Morgana Pendragon, a powerful enchantress.
For two weeks now, Camelot had been at peace, but this was because Morgana was preparing for her most deadly plan yet. Inside the hut, she and her minion, Agravaine de Bois, were standing over a bubbling cauldron. An evil look on her face, Morgana stirred the potion with a vast, wooden spoon. A green and purple glow showered on hers and Agravaine's faces.
Agravaine glanced at Morgana and asked, "So, this is what you've been working on for the past two weeks, My Lady?"
"Patience, Agravaine. A potion takes time to perfect," Morgana said.
"What exactly is your plan?" Agravaine wanted to know.
Morgana smirked. She picked up a glass vial from her workbench, bringing it between her and her minion. She then dipped her spoon into the potion and poured it inside. "Give this to the king before the banquet," she explained. "I know he has been stressed lately, so tell him it's a potion that Gaius prescribed for him. When he takes it, he will slowly become drunk from its magic. Tomorrow, his mind should be focused only on our pet, and we shall lure him here." Morgana put the cap on the vial and held it out to Agravaine.
Chuckling evilly, he accepted it. "I'm sure it will enjoy a juicy king for breakfast. What do you think it'll like most: his heart, liver, or stomach?"
"We'll just have to wait and see," Morgana said. "Do not fail me this time, Agravaine."
"Right, My Lady." Agravaine bowed to her, and he tucked the vial into his cape. He headed over to the hut's door, opening it.
Once he was outside, a growl came from the hut's furthest, darkest corner. Morgana went over there so she could comfort whatever it was that was hiding. "Not now, my pet," she snickered. "We need to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike."
The growling continued. A pair of red eyes appeared in the shadows, as well as a faint set of fangs.
"You're growing," Morgana added. "This is just what we want." She peered over her shoulder to the now closed front door and talked to herself. "You can try all you want to stop me, Emrys, but you won't be able to. Your magic is useless." Morgana was confident that this time, for sure, she would succeed. The fall of Camelot was imminent, and the throne was just as good as hers. The reign of the Death Lion… had begun.