I frown. “You said something about being sixteen?”
He raises a brow. “You’re quick. Good. A Scion must be between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two. I have to give it to Merlin, the Spell keeps things tidy. Here.”
He places a finger onto a line second from last on the right. As soon as his fingertip touches stone, a rush of light streaks along the lineage lines flowing like blood in veins. Once the light reaches the top, a unique glowing engraving appears above each stone, while a larger symbol shines above them all.
Colors. Coins. Sigils.
I pull on Nick’s necklace until the chain spills out of my shirt onto my palm—and see something I missed earlier. The coin is two-sided. On one side is the unifying symbol of the order, the circle with an embellished diamond in the center. On the other, a dragon rampant.
The Pendragon.
William steps closer, speaking with his back to me. “The Wall is enchanted to hide names in case an outsider finds their way to this room. The last sixty generations of Scion names are recorded here, all the way down to present day. The Order used to keep all the records in books. Still do, for convenience, of course, but the Southern Chapter founders started transferring records to the Wall once they decided to build the school.”
My eyes widen. “The Order built Carolina?”
He winks. “Absolutely. The Shadowborn spread from Europe to the Americas, maybe looking for fresh hunting grounds, and grew in number alongside the colonies. By the 1700s there was a high concentration of Gates on the East Coast. The founders opened the first Round Table chapter, built the Lodge, then added the school around it. Hell, Carolina was partially built as an excuse to gather and train eligible Scions. Early College was manufactured fairly recently to bring sixteen-year-old Scions to campus as early as possible, so they can live and train near the Gates with the chapter. The Lines are spread out along several historic schools, but our chapter’s the oldest.
“The Lines follow the original Round Table’s chain of command, and that rank determines the order in which we are Awakened.” He points to a bloodline that descends from a green stone and ends in a small star. “This one is me. I’m the Scion of the Line of Sir Gawain, twelfth-ranked. In addition to enhanced healing, the Spell gave Gawain preternatural strength at midday and midnight.” I gape and he shrugs. “Gawain was an odd guy, what can I say.”
He shifts his finger to the next line on the Wall, one that descends from an orange stone: “Fitz is the Scion of Sir Bors, eleventh-ranked. In combat, he has agility like you’ve never seen. When we take a Squire, we’re choosing a battle partner to join us in the Warrior’s Oath. Someone who will share our bloodline’s power. Fitz chose Evan as his Squire last year.”
He moves over a handful to the line below a dark yellow gem: “Pete is new to us this year, a freshman. The Scion of Sir Owain, ranked seventh. Owain’s Scions can call upon his lion familiar to join them in battle. Pete needs a Squire this year, just like I do.”
Over a few, the red stone: “Felicity is the Scion of Lamorak’s bloodline. Ranked fourth, as you know. She chose Russ as her Squire in last year’s tournament. After tonight, she’ll be strong enough to punch through a boulder—and when Sel Oaths them, so will Russ.”
Over one, blue. “Victoria is the Scion of the Line of Tristan, third-ranked, with Sarah as her Squire. When she Awakens, her name will go here. Marksmanship and speed.”
He points to a final line, right down the center. “And this star is for Nick.”
I look up. Arthur’s pure white diamond leads down, down, down to a single shining star engraved in the wall at the same height as my hip.
My fingers reach out to touch it without my permission, and I yank them back. William’s mouth quirks in a knowing smile.
“Under normal circumstances the Order operates just fine without an Awakened king. That’s what the Regents are for. Shadowborn cross into our world to feed and terrorize, we kill them, and the peace is kept, relatively speaking. Low-ranked Scions like myself are Awakened frequently, and we’re generally strong enough to keep the demons at bay. If you age out or expire, the next eligible Scion can be Called in your place, and the cycle continues.”
“Expire? If you die, you mean?” I ask, horrified.
“The Scion in each bloodline and the nine potentially eligible descendants in the line of succession behind them begin training as soon as they can walk.” He turns to me, his eyes assessing my expression. “We know the risks and prepare for them as best we can.”
I remember what Fitz said earlier—and the orders Lord Davis had given to send the Awakened to the front lines against the hellhounds. “But if the lower-ranked Scions are Called all the time, then your Lines are—infantry. You’re bearing the brunt of the war. The higher-ranked Scions—”
William cuts me off with a raised finger. “No, little Page, don’t go down that road.” He sighs. “Fitz’s way—his entire family’s way—is… dishonorable. We are Called first because fifteen hundred years ago, our knights were first to the field. It’s like Lord Davis says, to serve is to elevate oneself. It is ennobling. Some carry the burden with resentment, but the truth is, none of us have a choice. Immortality has a price. In the end, there is evil in the world, and we are the ones equipped to fight it.”
“Under normal circumstances, the Order is fine without an Awakened Arthur… but we’re not ‘under normal circumstances,’ are we?”
“No, it seems not.” William sighs heavily. “Nick was correct. A Scion ranked higher than sixth hasn’t been Called in a very long time. And Sel was right too. Demons—isels especially—don’t work together like they did tonight. And an uchel sighting is beyond rare.” He studies me. “But why don’t you ask the question that’s really on your mind?”
“Just the one?” I quip.
His mouth twitches. “The big one.”
“What is Camlann?”
He leads me over to a pair of sitting chairs, perfectly positioned for contemplating the Wall, or the Order’s history and legacy, or both.
“It’s written in the books that the magic holding Merlin’s spell together—the engine behind the entire system—is preserved in the spirit of Arthur. As long as the king’s spirit remains dormant, the spell is safe. This is why Arthur, the first knight, calls on his Scion last, and only when ‘the demon scourge’ becomes so powerful and so rampant, that the Round Table must be reunited under his leadership to fight it back. The threat must be great indeed, for Arthur to Awaken and enter the field, putting all of the Lines at risk.”
William pauses, then recites the next words from memory: “ ‘When thirteen Scions have Awakened and claimed Squires, the Scion of Arthur will lead the Round Table against the demon plague in a deadly battle.’ This war is called Camlann, so named because, in legend, Camlann is where many of the final knights were killed. Camlann is the battlefield where Arthur fell. Camlann is where the original Round Table was broken—forever. If a fully Awakened Arthur is struck down by Shadowborn blood, the Legendborn Lines will be broken forever too.”
I whisper, “And the humans, the Unanedig, will have no defenders.”