[Location: Camelot — Lower Catacombs, Night]
The air beneath Camelot always felt older than the city itself — thick, damp, full of stone dust and forgotten secrets. The torches on the wall had long burned out, leaving only the faint shimmer of moss and water.
Ren's conjured light hovered close to his shoulder — a small, steady orb that pulsed with his breath. He kept it dim; too bright, and the guards might notice light bleeding from the cracks above.
Morgana walked behind him, her steps careful, one hand brushing the wall to guide herself. "You know," she said softly, "most people prefer the market when they want privacy."
"Most people aren't on Uther's wanted list," Ren replied.
She gave a half-smile. "You're not even from Camelot, and already you've made enemies."
He didn't answer. The silence stretched as they moved deeper, until only the drip of water filled the air. These tunnels, Gaius had said, were once part of the city's old defense system — then repurposed by druids, long before Uther's purges sealed them off.
Now, they were the only place he could test his control.
Ren crouched near a cracked wall and drew a small sigil in the air — geometric, clean, borrowed from the diagrams Balthazar had once taught him in another life. A thin layer of dust blew outward, exposing the faint lines of an older rune etched into the stone.
Morgana leaned closer. "You can read that?"
"Not entirely. But the structure's similar to what I've seen before — energy containment. Someone used this place to practice or hide something powerful."
"Druids," she whispered. "They were said to use these tunnels before the king began his hunts."
Ren stood, studying the glowing pattern until it faded again. "Then we're standing in their classroom."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Morgana broke the quiet. "You've been… off lately. Your magic feels different. More controlled, but heavier."
Ren hesitated. "It's the energy I use — it's not exactly like yours. The more I compress it, the harder it gets to hide."
"Then maybe you shouldn't use it at all," she said, her tone almost pleading.
He gave a dry smile. "If I stop using it, I stop being able to control it. I've tried. It builds until it leaks out anyway."
Before she could respond, a sound echoed down the tunnel — faint at first, then clearer. Soft steps. Deliberate.
Ren motioned for her to dim her torch. He lowered his orb to a faint shimmer and pressed against the wall. The footsteps grew closer.
A shadow passed between the archways ahead — tall, cloaked, unhurried.
Ren raised his hand, and geometric lines flared briefly between his fingers — the shape of a containment ward. Morgana tensed beside him.
Then the voice came, low and calm. "You can lower your guard. If I wanted to harm you, you'd already be on the ground."
The figure stepped into view — an older man, face weathered, eyes sharp and steady. His cloak bore faint silver stitching that caught Ren's light.
Morgana blinked. "You're… a druid."
The man inclined his head slightly. "Once. There are few of us left who admit it openly." His gaze shifted to Ren. "And you — you don't carry our marks, but your mana…" He frowned. "It vibrates wrong."
Ren stayed still. "Wrong how?"
"Unfamiliar. Like two streams of water trying to share the same channel."
Ren exhaled. "That's… not far from the truth."
The man studied him longer, then spoke again. "I am Aglain. I protect those who still live by the Old Ways — what remains of them. If you wish to survive in this city, you'll need more than luck and a dimmed light spell."
"Are you offering help?" Morgana asked cautiously.
Aglain's eyes softened. "I'm offering a choice. The next moon wanes in three nights. There's an old circle deep in the woods. Come if you want to learn how to tame what's eating you from the inside."
Ren's brow furrowed slightly. "And if I don't?"
"Then you'll burn yourself out, like the rest of the lost ones who think they can control chaos by will alone."
The druid turned, cloak brushing the floor, and disappeared into the dark corridor as silently as he'd come.
For several seconds, all Ren could hear was the echo of his own heartbeat.
Morgana finally broke the silence. "You're thinking of going, aren't you?"
Ren kept his eyes on the shadows where Aglain had vanished. "If he's telling the truth, he might be able to help me stabilize this power. If he's not—"
"Then it's a trap."
Ren nodded once. "Either way, I'll learn something."
She frowned. "You always talk like this is all an experiment. Like nothing frightens you."
Ren gave a small, tired smile. "You'd be surprised."
The light orb flickered once, mirroring his fading control, before he forced it steady again. The tunnel seemed to close in tighter around them as they turned back toward the upper halls.
Above them, Camelot slept — unaware that two magicians and a stranger's shadow had just changed the course of its quiet night.
[Author's Note]
Ren's unstable mana is finally drawing outside attention. With Aglain introduced, the story now enters its "Druid Arc," focused on mana stabilization, natural flow theory, and deeper connections to Morgana's internal struggle with her own powers. Expect a slower pace next chapter as Ren and Morgana debate whether to attend the druid meeting — while tensions in Camelot continue to rise.