The Lost Boy of Camelot
By Nathaniel Theos and AI
Chapter One: Great-Grandma’s Secret
Rain drummed against the attic window as thirteen-year-old Ethan pushed another dusty cardboard box out of his way. He wiped a cobweb from his sleeve and sneezed for the third time in five minutes.
“Why did Great-Grandma keep so much stuff?” he complained.
“Because she was old,” Oliver replied without looking up.
“That doesn’t explain anything.”
“She was really old.”
Ethan stared at his eleven-year-old brother. Sometimes he wondered whether Oliver deliberately tried to be annoying or whether it came naturally. Their mother claimed the two boys were more alike than either cared to admit, an observation Ethan considered deeply unfair.
Their parents had spent the morning sorting through belongings left by their great-grandmother Eleanor, who had died the previous winter. Some things would be donated, others stored, and a few treasured possessions kept in the family. The boys had been assigned the attic, with instructions not to break anything, throw away anything important, or climb out onto the roof.
Ethan thought the last instruction unnecessary. Oliver had already checked whether the attic window opened.
“Hey, look at this.” Oliver was kneeling beside an old wooden trunk tucked beneath the sloping roof. Its dark oak sides were reinforced with tarnished brass, and faded carvings decorated the lid. A heavy clasp held it shut.
“Probably more old clothes,” Ethan said.
“Maybe treasure.”
“Great-Grandma wasn’t a pirate.”
“You don’t know that.”
Ethan opened his mouth to argue, then reconsidered. Great-Grandma Eleanor had been many things, but predictable wasn’t one of them.
She had travelled extensively when she was younger, although nobody seemed entirely certain where she’d gone. She spoke several languages, collected unusual objects, and told stories that made ordinary bedtime tales seem dull.
Ethan remembered sitting beside her fireplace while she described a city of golden towers hidden deep in the desert. Oliver remembered stories about King Arthur, Merlin, and knights who lived by a code of honour. And Finn, their six-year-old brother, insisted Great-Grandma had once met a real dragon.
Their parents always smiled at that particular claim. Great-Grandma had possessed an extraordinary imagination, they said, and children naturally believed such things.
Ethan sometimes wished he still believed them too.
“Help me with this,” Oliver said.
Together they lifted the trunk’s lid. It opened with a long wooden creak, releasing the faint smell of cedar and old paper.
Inside were folded scarves, leather-bound journals, yellowed photographs, and a small wooden box wrapped in blue velvet.
Oliver reached for it immediately.
“Careful,” Ethan warned.
“I am being careful.”
“You’re holding it upside down.”
Oliver turned it over and gave him an irritated look.
The box was about the size of a large jewellery case. Intricate carvings covered its polished surface: stars, mountains, sailing ships, castles, and unfamiliar symbols. At the centre of its lid was a round crystal, perfectly clear and smooth.
Oliver pulled a small notebook from his back pocket, along with the blue ballpoint pen he carried almost everywhere. He loved drawing maps, especially of imaginary kingdoms, and Great-Grandma had always encouraged him to keep track of his discoveries. He quickly sketched the strange symbols carved into the wooden box, then tucked the notebook and pen away. If the box really was something special, he wanted to remember every detail.
Ethan took the box and ran his thumb across the crystal. A pleasant warmth spread through his hand. He nearly dropped it.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“It felt weird.”
Oliver grabbed the box. “Let me try.”
He placed his fingertips against the crystal and immediately grinned. “Whoa. It tingles!”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said it felt weird. This feels amazing.”
Oliver closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. Without quite knowing why, he began imagining a castle. Not just any castle, but an enormous stone fortress with towering walls, colourful banners, and knights riding through its gates.
For an instant, the picture became extraordinarily vivid. He could almost hear horses stamping on cobblestones and smell woodsmoke drifting from the castle kitchens. Sunlight seemed to warm his face. Then he opened his eyes, and the attic returned.
“Ethan, you’ve got to try this properly.”
“I already did.”
“No. Close your eyes and imagine something.”
Ethan reluctantly placed his fingers on the crystal again. He pictured an old sailing ship crossing a stormy ocean, its great sails straining against the wind. The attic seemed to disappear. He felt the ship rolling beneath his feet and heard gulls crying somewhere overhead. A fine mist touched his cheeks.
He pulled his hand away. The sensation vanished.
For several seconds, neither boy spoke.
“That’s seriously strange,” Ethan finally admitted.
Oliver grinned. “It’s an imagination box!”
“A what?”
“An imagination box. You touch it, think about something, and it makes your imagination really powerful.”
Ethan examined the crystal. There were no buttons, batteries, or wires, and he couldn’t imagine how such a thing might work. Still, Oliver’s explanation was better than anything he could come up with.
They spent the next several minutes experimenting. Oliver imagined dinosaurs roaming through a jungle. Ethan pictured himself standing on the moon. They took turns touching the crystal, laughing at how real their imaginary adventures seemed.
Neither noticed that the crystal grew slightly brighter each time they used it. Nor did they notice the small face watching through the partially open attic door.
Finn had been spying on his brothers for almost ten minutes. And he wanted a turn.
Chapter Two: Tomorrow, Camelot
“Let’s try Camelot,” Oliver suggested.
Ethan looked up. “What?”
“Camelot. King Arthur, Merlin, the Knights of the Round Table. Remember Great-Grandma’s stories?”
“Of course I remember.”
“Then let’s go there.”
Ethan laughed. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re sitting in an attic.”
“I mean with the imagination box.”
Oliver placed his fingers against the crystal and closed his eyes. He pictured a magnificent castle surrounded by green hills. Knights practised sword fighting in the courtyard while colourful banners fluttered from the towers.
For a moment, he felt as though he were standing among them. He heard the clang of steel and the snorting of horses. A mounted knight thundered past so closely that Oliver instinctively ducked. He opened his eyes.
“That’s incredible!”
Ethan tried it. This time he imagined the great Round Table, with armoured knights gathered around it and King Arthur sitting among them. The vision was so clear that he could see the grain of the polished wood and the sunlight shining against a silver goblet.
Then it faded, leaving him staring at the dusty attic.
“We should do this properly,” Oliver said.
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow. We bring snacks, drinks, maybe a blanket. We can spend the whole afternoon imagining we’re in Camelot.”
Ethan considered the idea. They had no plans beyond helping their father clean the garage the next day. An afternoon of imaginary adventures sounded considerably better.
“Okay,” he agreed. “But we don’t tell Finn.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’ll want to come, and then he’ll start asking a million questions.”
Oliver considered that. “He does ask a lot of questions.”
“He asked me yesterday whether dragons have belly buttons.”
“Do they?”
“Oliver!”
His brother laughed.
From downstairs came their mother’s voice. “Boys! Supper!”
Ethan placed the wooden box on an old table beside the trunk. He brushed a little dust from its lid, then turned toward the stairs.
“Come on. We’ll try it again tomorrow.”
Oliver gave the crystal one final touch. “Tomorrow, Camelot.”
They hurried downstairs, still arguing about whether dragons could breathe fire underwater.
Behind the attic door, Finn waited until their footsteps disappeared. Then he slipped inside.
The attic seemed much larger without his brothers. Rain whispered against the window, and the shadows beneath the sloping roof looked deeper than before. Finn wasn’t frightened. Not exactly. He was curious. And curiosity had always been one of his greatest talents.
He approached the table where the wooden box rested. The crystal looked like a giant marble, except that something seemed to be moving deep inside it, a faint golden shimmer that came and went.
Finn climbed onto an old chair. He stretched out his hand and touched the crystal.
Warmth spread through his fingers, travelling gently up his arm. It felt like sitting beneath a warm blanket on a cold winter morning. He giggled.
Closing his eyes, Finn imagined the castle from Great-Grandma’s stories. He pictured enormous towers, brave knights, a king wearing a golden crown, and perhaps a friendly dragon sleeping in a cave beneath the walls.
When he opened his eyes, something had changed. Letters were glowing softly around the edge of the crystal.
Finn leaned closer. He was learning to read at school. Some words were easy, like cat and dog. Others were harder, especially the long ones that seemed to have too many letters.
This one looked difficult. He traced the first letter with his finger.
“C.”
Then the next. “A.”
He frowned in concentration. “C… a… m…”
He tried again, slowly joining the sounds. “Cam… e… lot.”
He recognized it. His face brightened.
“Camelot!”
The crystal flashed. Finn blinked in surprise.
“Camelot?”
A low humming sound filled the attic. Golden light spilled across the table, climbed the walls, and shimmered against the rafters. Finn’s smile disappeared.
“Uh-oh.”
The chair trembled beneath him. A sudden wind swept through the room, scattering loose papers across the floor. Finn grabbed the edge of the table.
“CAMELOT!”
The golden light surrounded him. For one extraordinary instant, he felt weightless, as though he were falling and flying at the same time.
Then he vanished.
The attic fell silent. The chair stood empty, the scattered papers settled, and the rain continued tapping against the window. The wooden box remained on the table. Its crystal glowed softly.
Around its edge, one word shimmered in golden letters.
CAMELOT.
Chapter Three: Where’s Finn?
“Where’s your brother?”
Ethan looked up from his plate. Oliver was already reaching for another dinner roll.
“Which brother?” Ethan asked.
His mother gave him a look. “The little one.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oliver?”
“Haven’t seen him.”
Their father glanced toward the hallway. “Finn! Supper!”
No answer. He called again, louder this time. Still nothing.
Their mother sighed. “Ethan, would you please find him?”
Ethan pushed back his chair. “Why do I always have to find him?”
“Because you’re the oldest.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Neither does letting your supper get cold.”
Oliver grinned. Ethan pointed at him. “You’re coming too.”
They checked Finn’s bedroom first, then the bathroom, the living room, and the space behind the curtains where Finn liked to hide during games.
Nothing.
“Maybe he’s outside,” Oliver suggested.
“He knows he’s not supposed to go outside alone.”
“Since when has that stopped him?”
Ethan frowned. A thought had entered his mind, unpleasant and increasingly difficult to ignore. The attic.
He hurried upstairs, with Oliver close behind.
When they reached the attic, Ethan immediately noticed the papers scattered across the floor. He remembered leaving them stacked neatly beside the trunk. Then he saw the box.
The crystal was glowing.
“Oliver.”
“What?”
“Look at that.”
Oliver approached the table. “That’s weird.”
The crystal had never continued glowing after they stopped touching it. Now a soft golden light pulsed beneath its surface, brightening and fading like a heartbeat.
Ethan placed his fingers against it. The familiar warmth returned, stronger than before.
“Finn must have been up here,” he said.
Oliver examined the floor. “Maybe he’s hiding.”
“Finn!” Ethan called. “Come out! Mum’s waiting!”
Silence.
He checked behind the trunk, beneath the table, and inside the narrow storage space under the roof. There was nowhere Finn could be.
Oliver leaned over the box and rested his fingertips on the crystal.
“Hey, what’s that writing?”
Ethan turned. Glowing letters curved around the crystal.
Oliver frowned and read the word aloud. “Camelot?”
The crystal erupted with golden light.
Oliver disappeared.
One moment he was standing beside Ethan, his hand resting on the box. The next, there was nothing but a rush of warm air and a scattering of dust.
Ethan stumbled backward.
“OLIVER!”
His voice echoed through the attic. He stared at the empty space where his brother had been.
This wasn’t possible. People didn’t simply disappear.
He looked toward the stairs, half expecting Oliver to appear there laughing at some elaborate trick. But the staircase was empty, and the crystal was blazing brighter than ever. The same word glowed around its edge.
Camelot.
Finn was missing. Oliver had vanished. And suddenly Ethan understood that whatever the box was, it was not a toy.
Fear swept through him so sharply that he struggled to breathe.
He could run downstairs and tell his parents. But what would he say? That his brothers had disappeared into a glowing wooden box? Would anyone believe him? And what if the light went out before he returned?
He had no idea where the box would take him or whether he could ever get back. But he knew one thing. He couldn’t leave his brothers wherever they had gone.
Ethan lunged forward, seized the wooden box with both hands, and shouted the only word he could think of.
“CAMELOT!”
The attic vanished around him.
Chapter Four: Two Very Surprised Pages
Oliver landed on his feet. Almost.
He stumbled forward, collided with a wooden market stall, and sent a basket of apples tumbling across the ground.
“Watch yourself!” an angry merchant shouted.
“Sorry!” Oliver cried, scrambling to catch one of the rolling apples.
He straightened and looked around. The attic was gone.
He stood in a crowded marketplace surrounded by stone buildings and timber-framed houses. Horses pulled wooden carts along the cobbled street. Women in long dresses carried baskets, merchants shouted their prices, and children chased one another between the stalls.
Beyond the rooftops rose an enormous stone castle.
Oliver stared at it. “No way.”
He looked down. His jeans had disappeared. So had his sneakers. Instead, he wore woollen leggings, brown leather shoes, and a green tunic fastened with a narrow belt. A small pouch hung at his side.
He tugged at the fabric. It felt real.
A horse brushed past him, close enough that he felt the warmth of its body and smelled its unmistakable horse smell. Its iron shoes struck sparks against the stones.
Oliver backed away. “This isn’t imagination,” he whispered.
A shout came from behind a nearby building.
“OLIVER!”
He recognized the voice immediately. “Ethan?”
He hurried around the corner and stopped.
His older brother was standing in a shallow puddle, staring furiously at his soaking wet foot. Ethan wore a blue tunic, dark leggings, and leather shoes. Clutched against his chest was Great-Grandma’s wooden box.
Oliver burst out laughing.
Ethan glared at him. “Don’t.”
“You’re wearing tights!”
“So are you!”
Oliver looked down at his own legs. “Oh.”
Ethan stepped out of the puddle. Water squelched inside his shoe.
“Where are we?”
Oliver pointed toward the castle. “I’m pretty sure we’re in Camelot.”
Ethan stared at the towering walls. A line of mounted knights passed beneath the great gates, their armour flashing in the afternoon sunlight.
“That’s impossible.”
A cart rumbled past, its driver shouting for them to move. Somewhere nearby, a blacksmith hammered a glowing piece of metal against an anvil.
Ethan looked down at the box. Then back at the castle.
“That’s impossible,” he repeated, although less confidently.
Oliver suddenly frowned. “Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“That man over there. The one selling bread.”
“What about him?”
“He’s speaking English.”
“So?”
“So he shouldn’t be. If this is really King Arthur’s time, people wouldn’t be speaking modern English.”
Ethan listened to the merchant arguing with a customer. He understood every word, although something about the sounds seemed strange, as though his ears heard one language while his mind received another.
Oliver shook his head in amazement. “The box must be translating.”
Ethan looked at his medieval clothing. “And changing our clothes.”
Oliver smiled. “That’s actually pretty amazing.”
Ethan grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Oliver. Finn.”
The smile disappeared. Their little brother was somewhere in this enormous, unfamiliar world. Alone.
Oliver looked toward the castle. “Where do we start?”
Ethan tucked the box securely beneath his arm. It was their only connection to home, and he had no intention of letting it out of his sight.
“We ask people if they’ve seen him.”
“What if nobody has?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately. He was still frightened, although he didn’t want Oliver to know how much.
“Then we keep looking.”
The brothers started toward the castle, leaving a trail of wet footprints from Ethan’s right shoe.
Chapter Five: The Youngest Visitor
Finn had never seen so many horses in his life.
There were brown horses, black horses, white horses, and one enormous grey horse that seemed taller than his father’s truck. He was fascinated by the animals, the enormous castle, and the men wearing shiny armour.
He was also wearing a small red tunic, soft leather shoes, and a belt with a tiny pouch. He didn’t remember changing clothes, but he rather liked the outfit. It made him look like a knight. Or perhaps a prince. He hadn’t decided.
The castle behind him looked exactly as he’d imagined, except that it smelled rather more strongly of horses and woodsmoke than he’d expected.
“Hello, horse,” Finn said.
The grey horse lowered its head, and Finn reached up to pat its nose. The animal snorted, sending a warm puff of air across his face. Finn giggled.
“Do you know King Arthur?”
The horse offered no answer, although Finn thought it looked friendly enough.
He glanced around the courtyard. Men hurried past carrying barrels, servants led horses toward the stables, and somewhere nearby a blacksmith hammered metal against an anvil.
It was wonderful. Then Finn noticed something. He couldn’t see his brothers.
He looked toward the great wooden gates, half expecting Ethan and Oliver to come walking through them. They didn’t.
Finn remembered standing in the attic, touching Great-Grandma’s box and sounding out the glowing letters. There had been a bright light, a strange rushing feeling, and suddenly he’d arrived here.
He hadn’t planned to go anywhere. Not really. He’d only wanted to imagine Camelot, just like his brothers.
He turned around, searching for the wooden box. It wasn’t there.
His excitement began to fade. He looked behind the horse, beside a stack of barrels, and beneath a wooden cart. Perhaps the box had fallen somewhere when he arrived. But there was no box.
Finn felt a small, uncomfortable flutter in his stomach.
He knew how to get to the attic from his bedroom. He knew how to get home from school. He even knew the way to the playground at the end of their street. But he had no idea how to get home from Camelot.
He looked up at the enormous castle walls. They suddenly seemed much taller.
“Ethan?” he called.
Nobody answered.
“Oliver?”
A passing servant glanced at him but continued walking.
Finn swallowed. He wanted his brothers. He wanted his mother. And, rather unexpectedly, he wanted to sit at the kitchen table and eat his supper.
His eyes began to sting. He rubbed them quickly with the back of his hand. He wasn’t going to cry. He was six, after all.
“Boy!”
Finn jumped.
A large man in armour was approaching. He wore a sword at his side and an expression suggesting he had very little patience for wandering children.
“What are you doing here?”
Finn hesitated. “Petting the horse.”
“I can see that. Where are your parents?”
“At home.”
“Where is home?”
Finn considered the question. “Far away.”
“How far?”
“Really far.”
The guard frowned. “What’s your name?”
“Finn.”
“Finn what?”
“Just Finn.”
The guard sighed. “Who brought you into the castle?”
“Nobody. I came by myself.”
“Impossible.”
Finn looked down at his shoes. “That’s what Ethan says a lot.”
The guard stared at him. Finn pointed toward the castle.
“Is King Arthur here?”
The guard hesitated. “Yes.”
“Can I meet him?”
“Certainly not.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the king.”
Finn thought about that. “Does he have a dragon?”
The guard closed his eyes for a moment.
Before he could answer, another knight approached. He was younger than the guard, with a friendly face and a richly embroidered cloak over his armour.
“What have we here?” the newcomer asked.
“A lost child who claims to have arrived from nowhere,” the guard replied.
The knight crouched beside Finn. “And where were you hoping to go, young fellow?”
Finn looked at him carefully. The knight had kind eyes.
“To see King Arthur.”
“An ambitious journey.”
Finn nodded. “I’m six.”
“An excellent age for adventures.”
Finn managed a small smile. “Are you a knight?”
“I am.”
“A real one?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Do you fight dragons?”
“Not as often as you might imagine.”
Finn looked disappointed.
The knight rose and addressed the guard. “I’ll take responsibility for him.”
The guard bowed. “As you wish, Sir Gawain.”
Finn’s eyes widened. “Sir Gawain?”
The knight looked down. “You know my name?”
“Great-Grandma told me about you!”
Gawain smiled. “Did she indeed?”
“She said you were brave.”
“A generous description.”
“And sometimes stubborn.”
Gawain laughed. “Perhaps she knew me better than I thought.”
Finn slipped his small hand into the knight’s. “Can we go see the king now?”
Gawain studied the little boy. Something about his confidence, his strange arrival, and his unexpected knowledge of Camelot intrigued him.
“I suppose we can,” he said.
As they crossed the courtyard, Finn glanced back toward the enormous gates.
“Sir Gawain?”
“Yes?”
“If you get lost, can King Arthur help you find your way home?”
Gawain looked down at him. “I should think he would try.”
Finn tightened his grip on the knight’s hand. “Good,” he whispered.
He followed Gawain toward the great hall, hoping that kings knew how to solve problems that little boys couldn’t.
Chapter Six: Strangers at the Gate
By the time Ethan and Oliver reached the castle gates, they had asked at least a dozen people whether anyone had seen a small blond boy wearing unfamiliar clothing and asking questions about dragons.
Most people shook their heads. One woman offered them bread, apparently deciding they looked hungry. A stable boy suggested they speak to the castle guards.
Ethan thought that was a sensible idea. At least until the guards began asking questions of their own.
“Who are you?” demanded a broad-shouldered soldier standing beneath the gatehouse.
“My name’s Ethan. This is my brother Oliver.”
“Where have you come from?”
Ethan glanced at Oliver. “Somewhere far away.”
“How far?”
“Very far.”
The guard folded his arms. “And what business brings two young pages to Camelot without a master?”
Ethan wasn’t entirely sure what a page was, but he suspected the guard was referring to their clothing.
“We’re looking for our little brother. He’s six, about this tall, with blond hair. He talks a lot and probably keeps asking people about dragons.”
The guard’s expression changed. “Dragons?”
“Yes,” Ethan said impatiently. “Have you seen him?”
The guard exchanged a glance with the soldier beside him.
“Perhaps. How did you enter Camelot?”
“We walked,” Ethan replied.
“From where?”
“Outside.”
Oliver closed his eyes. His older brother wasn’t helping.
The guard narrowed his gaze. “You arrive without horses, provisions, or any identification. You claim to be searching for a child, yet you cannot tell me where you come from.”
“We’re telling the truth,” Oliver insisted.
While they waited for an answer, Oliver peered through the gate. “How many gates does this castle have? Do the guards change places at night?”
The soldier gave him a sharp look. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious,” Oliver replied, immediately regretting the question.
The guard pointed toward the wooden box tucked beneath Ethan’s arm.
“What is that?”
“It’s ours,” Ethan replied.
“What does it contain?”
“Nothing.”
“Then open it.”
Ethan tightened his grip. He wasn’t about to let a stranger touch the only thing that might get them home.
“No.”
The guard straightened. “Then you will come with us.”
Two soldiers stepped forward. Oliver moved closer to Ethan.
“Are we being arrested?” he whispered.
“Not yet,” the guard replied. “But that depends on what you tell the king.”
Ethan’s stomach tightened. A few hours earlier, meeting King Arthur had sounded like the greatest adventure imaginable. Now, with Finn missing and armed soldiers surrounding them, it didn’t sound nearly as exciting.
One soldier reached for the box. Ethan pulled away.
“Don’t touch it!”
The soldier seized Ethan’s wrist. “Mind your manners, boy!”
Ethan winced. Oliver stepped forward.
“Leave him alone!”
The second guard immediately blocked his path.
“Enough!”
The captain’s voice echoed beneath the gatehouse. He studied the brothers, then the box.
“You guard that object as though your lives depend upon it.”
Ethan swallowed. “They might.”
The captain’s expression hardened. “An interesting answer.”
He reached for the box. Ethan pulled it closer to his chest.
“Please. It belonged to our great-grandmother. It’s the only way we can get home.”
The captain paused. “Home? Where is home?”
Ethan glanced at Oliver. How could he possibly explain that their home was hundreds of years in the future?
“We can’t tell you,” Ethan admitted.
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps you have something to hide.”
He turned to his men. “Escort them to the great hall. Keep them together, but do not allow either boy to leave your sight.”
Ethan felt a flicker of relief. At least they weren’t being separated.
As the soldiers led them through the castle gates, Oliver leaned closer.
“What if they take the box?”
Ethan glanced at the wooden casket beneath his arm. “Then we don’t get home.”
Oliver went pale. Ethan immediately regretted saying it.
He lowered his voice. “Listen, we’re going to find Finn. Then we’re going to figure this out.”
Oliver nodded, although he didn’t look convinced.
The castle courtyard was crowded with people, horses, and soldiers. Ordinarily, Oliver would have been fascinated, but he barely glanced at the magnificent buildings surrounding them.
Ethan noticed. “You okay?”
Oliver nodded. Then shook his head.
“What if Finn’s not here?”
Ethan wanted to promise that everything would be fine. But he couldn’t. So he said the only thing he knew for certain.
“We’re not leaving without him.”
Oliver looked at his brother. “Promise?”
Ethan nodded. “Promise.”
They entered a long corridor illuminated by flickering torches. Their footsteps echoed against the stone as they approached two enormous wooden doors.
The captain stopped. “Wait here.”
Ethan looked at Oliver. Neither spoke.
Then, from somewhere beyond the doors, came a familiar little voice.
“Do you have a dragon?”
Ethan’s heart seemed to stop. “Finn?”
The voice continued. “Because if you don’t have one, I think you should get one.”
Oliver’s face lit up. “That’s him!”
Ethan rushed forward before the guards could react and pushed open the doors.
“FINN!”
Chapter Seven: The King and the Little Knight
The great hall of Camelot was magnificent. Tall windows allowed afternoon sunlight to spill across the stone floor, colourful banners hung from heavy wooden beams, and enormous tapestries covered the walls.
Near the centre of the chamber stood a great circular table surrounded by knights in richly embroidered tunics. At the far end, beneath a banner bearing a golden dragon, stood King Arthur.
But Ethan barely noticed any of it. Because beside a tall, white-bearded man stood Finn.
His little brother was holding a piece of bread in one hand and gesturing enthusiastically with the other.
“FINN!”
The little boy turned. His face broke into an enormous smile.
“ETHAN!”
He dropped the bread and ran.
Ethan fell to his knees just as Finn reached him, wrapping both arms around his little brother and holding him so tightly that Finn squeaked.
“Ow! Ethan!”
Ethan loosened his grip, but only slightly. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Finn blinked. “Do what?”
“Disappear!”
Oliver arrived and threw his arms around them both. For several moments, the three brothers remained huddled together in the middle of King Arthur’s great hall.
Ethan could feel Finn’s small heart beating against his chest. He hadn’t realized how frightened he’d been until that moment. His hands were trembling, and he buried his face briefly against Finn’s hair.
“You scared me,” he whispered.
Finn looked confused. “But I was just visiting.”
“You were gone!”
“I know. I came to Camelot.”
Oliver laughed shakily. “Yes, Finn. We noticed.”
Finn suddenly remembered where they were.
“Oh! Ethan! Oliver! Guess what? I met Sir Gawain, and King Arthur, and Merlin! And they have horses!”
A deep, warm voice interrupted. “Indeed, young Finn. Quite a few horses.”
The brothers turned. King Arthur had stepped forward. He was taller than Ethan had imagined, broad-shouldered, with dark hair touched by grey. His face carried the weathered appearance of a man who had spent more time beneath the sun than inside a palace.
He wore no elaborate crown, only a simple golden circlet above his brow.
Ethan instinctively moved in front of Finn. Arthur noticed, and a faint smile touched his face.
“You need not fear me, young man.”
Ethan swallowed. “Sorry, Your Majesty.”
Arthur glanced toward the guards. “Why have these boys been brought before me under escort?”
The captain stepped forward. “They entered Camelot under suspicious circumstances, my lord. They carry an unusual object and refuse to explain their origins.”
Arthur looked at the box, then at the brothers. “Are you spies?”
“No!” Ethan exclaimed.
Oliver shook his head vigorously. “We’re brothers.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I have known brothers who were spies.”
Several knights chuckled.
Finn stepped forward. “They’re not spies. They’re Ethan and Oliver.”
“An excellent distinction,” Arthur replied solemnly.
Finn nodded. “And Ethan’s thirteen, so he thinks he’s the boss.”
The hall erupted in laughter. Ethan wished the floor would swallow him.
Arthur smiled. “And are you the boss, Ethan?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
Finn looked surprised. “You always say you are.”
More laughter followed. Ethan closed his eyes. This was becoming unbearable.
Then the white-bearded man beside Arthur stepped forward. His long blue robes were embroidered with silver stars, and his eyes held an extraordinary brightness.
Merlin.
He was looking at the wooden box. Not casually, and not with simple curiosity. With recognition.
“Where,” the wizard asked quietly, “did you get that?”
Ethan tightened his grip. “It belonged to our great-grandmother.”
Merlin approached. “May I see it?”
Ethan hesitated, then carefully handed him the box.
The wizard turned it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the carved symbols. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled.
“Well, well.”
Arthur leaned forward. “Merlin?”
The wizard looked at the brothers. “Tell me, boys. What was your great-grandmother’s name?”
“Eleanor,” Oliver replied.
Merlin’s smile widened. “Eleanor.”
He said the name as though greeting an old friend.
Arthur stood straighter. “Surely not Eleanor of the Wandering Star?”
Merlin nodded. “The very same.”
Finn’s eyes widened. “You know Great-Grandma?”
Merlin looked down at him. “My dear boy, your great-grandmother was one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met.”
Finn grinned. “She made really good cookies.”
Merlin chuckled. “Among her many remarkable talents, I am sure.”
Arthur approached the boys. “Eleanor once saved my life.”
The three brothers stared at him.
Ethan found his voice first. “Our great-grandmother?”
Arthur nodded. “She was courageous, clever, and quite incapable of following sensible instructions.”
Oliver looked at Ethan. “That sounds like Finn.”
“It does not!” Finn protested.
Merlin laughed. “Oh, I assure you, young Finn. The resemblance is remarkable.”
Chapter Eight: The Wanderer’s Casket
Merlin led the brothers into a smaller chamber adjoining the great hall. Arthur accompanied them, along with Sir Gawain. A servant brought bread, cheese, and cups of water.
Finn immediately began eating.
Ethan was too distracted to feel hungry. He watched Merlin place the wooden box on a table.
“Is it really magic?” Oliver asked.
Merlin looked amused. “You have travelled across centuries, arrived in a kingdom from your legends, and found yourselves dressed as pages. What do you think?”
Oliver considered that. “Probably.”
“An excellent deduction.”
Ethan leaned forward. “How does it work?”
Merlin rested one hand on the crystal. “This is the Wanderer’s Casket. An ancient object, older than Camelot itself. It allows travellers to pass between certain places and moments in time.”
“Like a time machine?” Oliver asked.
Merlin tilted his head. “A curious phrase, but not entirely inaccurate.”
Ethan looked at the box. “We thought it just made us imagine things.”
“Imagination,” Merlin replied, “is often the doorway through which magic first enters.”
Oliver smiled. “I knew it was special.”
“You thought it was a toy,” Ethan reminded him.
“A special toy.”
Merlin continued. “The casket responds to three things: touch, intention, and the spoken name of a destination. It is not enough merely to say a place aloud. The traveller must truly wish to go there.”
Finn raised his hand. Merlin looked at him.
“Yes, young Finn?”
“I said Camelot.”
“So you did.”
“Three times.”
“Apparently, you were very determined.”
Finn nodded proudly.
Ethan frowned. “Then why did it change our clothes?”
“The casket prepares travellers for the world they enter. Clothing, language, even certain small customs. It helps them belong, at least upon first appearance.”
Oliver looked down at his tunic. “So when we go home, we’ll get our regular clothes back?”
“Of course.”
Ethan lifted his wet foot. “Will my shoe be dry?”
Merlin examined it. “I should think so.”
“Good.”
Oliver grinned. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“My foot’s been wet for half an hour.”
Merlin smiled. “Even the greatest adventures are troubled by small discomforts.”
Ethan frowned again. “But we’ve been here for ages. Our parents are going to be worried sick.”
Merlin smiled. “Not necessarily. Time does not travel at the same pace in every world or every century. An hour spent here may amount to only a minute where you came from.”
Oliver stared at him. “So we could spend all afternoon in Camelot and still get home before supper?”
“In theory,” Merlin replied. “Although I would strongly advise against testing how long your mother’s patience might last.”
Finn giggled. “Mum doesn’t like it when we’re late.”
“Then,” Merlin said, “I suggest we make certain you aren’t.”
Arthur leaned against the table. “Your great-grandmother visited Camelot many times.”
Ethan stared. “How many?”
Merlin considered the question. “Enough that the kitchen staff eventually began preparing extra cakes whenever I announced her arrival.”
Finn brightened. “Did she bring cookies?”
“Sometimes,” Merlin replied.
“Chocolate chip?”
“I do not recall their name, but they were quite wonderful.”
Oliver leaned forward. “What did she do here?”
Merlin’s expression softened. “She listened. She learned. She helped when help was needed. And she possessed an extraordinary gift for seeing possibilities where others saw only obstacles.”
Arthur nodded. “She was a true friend of Camelot.”
Ethan felt something tighten in his chest. He remembered Great-Grandma sitting beside the fireplace, telling stories about knights and castles. He remembered the way she’d smiled whenever Oliver asked whether Merlin had truly existed.
He’d always assumed she was making everything up. Now he wished he had listened more carefully.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” he asked.
Merlin looked at him kindly. “Perhaps she did.”
Ethan thought about her stories. The details, the places, the people, and the way she sometimes grew quiet when describing someone who had died hundreds of years ago.
He suddenly understood. “She was telling us the truth.”
Merlin nodded. “In the language of stories.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Finn asked, “Did she know any dragons?”
Merlin’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, yes.”
Finn gasped. “I KNEW IT!”
Arthur laughed, but Merlin held up a hand.
“Before we discuss dragons, there is a rather important matter.”
He looked at the crystal. Its glow had begun to fade.
“The casket has slept for many years. Its magic is still awakening, and each journey draws upon its strength. It will carry you home safely, but I would not recommend another journey until it has rested.”
Ethan looked at the fading light. “How long does it need?”
“That,” Merlin replied, “is something the casket must decide for itself.”
Finn looked disappointed. “So we can’t visit the dinosaurs tomorrow?”
Merlin smiled. “I would suggest finishing your supper first.”
Ethan stood. “Then we should go now.”
Finn looked disappointed. “But I haven’t seen the Round Table properly.”
Arthur smiled. “That can be arranged.”
Merlin studied the crystal. “A brief visit. No more.”
Finn clapped his hands. Ethan sighed.
“Five minutes, Finn. Then we’re going home.”
Finn nodded enthusiastically. “Okay!”
Ethan looked at the glowing box and wondered whether five minutes was already too long.
Chapter Nine: A Question of Honour
The Round Table was larger than Oliver had imagined. It was made of dark polished wood, with intricate carvings running around its edge. There was no great throne at its head, and every chair appeared equally important.
Oliver was fascinated by the carvings. He took out his little notebook and began sketching the patterns, leaning over the polished wood to capture the intricate details. When Arthur approached, Oliver hurriedly closed the notebook and slipped it into his pocket. He was so excited to speak with the king that he failed to notice his blue pen rolling across the table and disappearing beneath one of the chairs.
Arthur noticed Oliver studying the table.
“Do you know why the table is round?”
Oliver nodded. “So nobody sits above anyone else.”
“Precisely.”
Finn looked puzzled. “But you’re the king.”
Arthur smiled. “Indeed.”
“Shouldn’t you get the biggest chair?”
Sir Gawain laughed.
Arthur crouched beside Finn. “A king who believes himself greater than every man around him soon finds himself very lonely.”
Finn considered that. “My dad sits at the end of our table.”
“Does he?”
“Yep. But Mum’s the boss.”
Arthur laughed so heartily that several knights turned to look. “A wise arrangement, I suspect.”
For a few wonderful minutes, the brothers forgot their fear.
Oliver asked about Excalibur, and Arthur allowed him to examine the sword’s magnificent hilt, although he wisely kept the blade sheathed. Finn wanted to know whether knights had to brush their teeth, and Sir Gawain assured him that cleanliness was important, even for warriors.
Then Finn asked whether anyone had ever fallen off a horse while wearing armour. Gawain looked uncomfortable.
Arthur smiled. “Perhaps Sir Gawain would prefer not to discuss that particular incident.”
Oliver laughed. Even Ethan found himself smiling. For the first time since leaving the attic, he began to feel safe.
Then the doors opened.
The captain of the guard entered with two soldiers. He bowed before Arthur.
“My lord, forgive the interruption. There is a matter requiring your attention.”
Arthur’s expression changed. “Speak.”
“The two young strangers brought before you earlier were observed questioning our guards about the castle’s gates and defences. Their answers concerning their origins remain unsatisfactory.”
Ethan’s smile disappeared.
The captain continued. “Furthermore, the object they carry may be some form of foreign device. Until their intentions are known, I believe they should be held for questioning.”
Oliver moved closer to Ethan. “We weren’t asking about defences!”
The captain turned toward him. “You asked how many gates the castle possessed.”
“Because I wanted to know how big it was!”
“And whether the guards changed positions.”
“Because I thought it was interesting!”
The captain looked toward Arthur. “My lord, I do not believe we should dismiss these questions merely because they come from children.”
Arthur regarded the captain thoughtfully. “Your duty is to protect Camelot. You have done well to bring your concerns before me.”
Ethan felt his stomach tighten.
Arthur turned toward the brothers. “Until this matter is settled, the casket must remain under Merlin’s protection.”
Ethan looked toward the wizard. Merlin gave him a reassuring nod. Reluctantly, Ethan allowed the box to remain with him.
Arthur then addressed the captain. “Have your men wait outside. I will question the boys myself.”
The captain bowed and withdrew. The great hall fell silent. Ethan suddenly became aware of how many knights were watching them.
Arthur approached. “Ethan, you must understand that Camelot has enemies. Strangers sometimes come bearing gifts, promises, or pleasant words while concealing dangerous intentions.”
Ethan nodded. “I understand.”
“Then tell me the truth. Why did you come here?”
Ethan swallowed. He could have said they wanted adventure. He could have said they wanted to meet King Arthur. Both would have been true earlier that afternoon. But neither was the reason he’d come.
He glanced at Finn. “Because my little brother was missing.”
Arthur waited.
Ethan continued. “We didn’t know where he was. We didn’t even know the box was real. Then Oliver disappeared, and I thought I’d lost both of them.”
His voice caught. He looked down, embarrassed by the sudden tightness in his throat.
“I was scared.”
Nobody laughed. Nobody interrupted.
Ethan forced himself to continue. “I didn’t know what was going to happen when I said Camelot. I didn’t know whether I’d ever get back. But I couldn’t leave them.”
Arthur studied him. “Why?”
Ethan looked at his brothers. “Because they’re my brothers.”
It was such a simple answer that Ethan wondered whether the king would understand.
Arthur remained silent for a moment. Then he turned to Oliver.
“And you? Why did you come?”
Oliver looked confused. “I didn’t mean to.”
Several knights exchanged glances.
Oliver continued. “I saw the word Camelot glowing on the box, and I said it out loud. Then everything went bright, and I landed in a market.”
He hesitated. “And I knocked over some apples.”
A faint smile appeared on Arthur’s face. “And did you intend to steal these apples?”
“No! I helped pick them up.”
Arthur nodded solemnly. “A commendable act.”
Then he turned toward Finn. “And you, young knight? Why did you come to Camelot?”
Finn looked at the king. “Because I wanted to see you.”
Arthur smiled. “And did you intend to harm my kingdom?”
Finn’s eyes widened. “No!”
“Did you come to learn the secrets of my castle?”
Finn thought about that. “I wanted to know if you had a dragon.”
The hall erupted in laughter. Even Arthur chuckled.
Then Finn grew serious. “But I didn’t mean to make my brothers scared.”
He looked at Ethan. “I didn’t know I was going to come here for real.”
Ethan reached down and squeezed his hand.
Arthur studied the three boys. Then he looked toward Merlin.
“What say you, old friend?”
Merlin stepped forward, carrying the wooden box. “I say that Eleanor’s descendants possess much of her curiosity, a fair measure of her courage, and apparently very little of her caution.”
Arthur laughed.
Merlin continued. “The casket confirms their story. They have travelled from a time far beyond our own. They are not spies, my lord. They are children who have stumbled into an extraordinary adventure.”
Arthur nodded. “Then the matter is settled.”
He summoned the captain. “These boys are guests of Camelot. They are not to be detained or questioned further.”
The captain bowed. “As you command, my lord.”
When the guards departed, Arthur approached Ethan.
“You followed your brothers into a world you did not understand, knowing nothing of the dangers awaiting you.”
Ethan nodded. “I had to.”
Arthur smiled. “Then you understand something many grown men never learn. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is choosing to act when fear would have you turn away.”
Oliver looked at Ethan with newfound respect. Finn slipped his small hand into his oldest brother’s.
Arthur rested a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Your great-grandmother would have been proud.”
Ethan felt his throat tighten again. He thought of Eleanor’s warm hugs and the way she’d always listened when he had something important to say, no matter how busy she was.
He wished she were there to see them. For a moment, he couldn’t speak.
Then Merlin glanced toward the wooden box. Its crystal had begun to flicker.
“My lord,” he said quietly, “I fear our young visitors must depart.”
Arthur nodded. “Then we shall see them safely home.”
Chapter Ten: The Way Home
Merlin placed the Wanderer’s Casket on a small table in the chamber adjoining the great hall. The crystal flickered weakly, its golden light fading and returning like a candle struggling against the wind.
Ethan watched anxiously. “Will it work?”
Merlin rested his fingers against the wooden lid. “Yes, but all three of you must remain together. The casket is capable of carrying several travellers when their intentions are united.”
Oliver moved closer. Finn reached for Ethan’s hand.
Merlin studied the crystal. “Remember, the casket responds to the heart as much as the voice. You must know where you wish to go.”
Ethan nodded. “Home.”
The crystal brightened slightly, although Ethan had not yet touched it.
Merlin smiled. “Exactly. There is one place every true traveller carries within.”
Arthur approached. “I am grateful that fate has brought Eleanor’s family back to Camelot.”
Oliver grinned. “We’re glad we came.”
Ethan looked at him. “Really?”
Oliver shrugged. “Well, mostly.”
Arthur laughed.
Sir Gawain knelt before Finn. “Young Finn, I believe you deserve something to remember your visit.”
He produced a small silver coin. One side bore a crown, while the other showed a knight holding a sword.
Finn accepted it with both hands. “Is it treasure?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Finn examined it. “Can I buy candy with it?”
Gawain smiled. “I suspect it would be worth rather more than a sweet.”
Arthur stepped forward. “Finn, would you kneel?”
Finn looked confused. “Why?”
“Because I wish to honour you.”
Finn glanced at Ethan, who nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead.”
Finn knelt on the stone floor. His red tunic spread around his knees, and he looked very small beneath the towering figure of the king.
Arthur drew Excalibur. The blade shimmered in the torchlight. Finn stared at it with enormous eyes as Arthur gently touched the flat of the sword to his right shoulder, then his left.
“For your honesty, your curiosity, and the courage that brought you among us, I name you Sir Finn, youngest honorary knight of Camelot. May you always remember that a brave heart need not belong to a mighty warrior.”
Finn jumped to his feet. “I’m a knight?”
Arthur smiled. “An honorary knight.”
Finn turned toward his brothers. “DID YOU HEAR THAT?”
Oliver laughed. “We heard.”
Ethan shook his head. “This is going to be a long ride home.”
Merlin chuckled. “Now, young knights, gather around the casket.”
The brothers placed their hands upon the crystal. Warmth spread through their fingers, just as it had in the attic. This time, however, they understood that something extraordinary was happening.
Finn looked at Merlin. “Will we see you again?”
The wizard smiled. “Time is a peculiar thing, young Finn. One never knows whom one might meet.”
Finn nodded thoughtfully. Then he asked one final question.
“Did Great-Grandma really know a dragon?”
Merlin’s smile widened. “She did.”
“What was its name?”
The wizard leaned closer. “That, young knight, is a story for another day.”
Finn grinned.
Ethan closed his eyes and pictured their house. He imagined the attic, the old trunk, their parents waiting downstairs, and the familiar smell of supper. He pictured the life he’d taken for granted only a few hours earlier.
Beside him, Oliver squeezed his hand. Finn pressed against his side, holding tightly to both his brothers.
“Ready?” Ethan whispered.
Oliver nodded. Finn looked up at him.
“Ready.”
Together, the three brothers spoke a single word.
“Home.”
The crystal blazed. Golden light filled the chamber, spreading across the walls and ceiling. Arthur stepped back, Gawain shielded his eyes, and Merlin watched with a quiet smile.
For an instant, Ethan saw the great hall fading around him. The stone walls became transparent, the faces of the knights blurred, and the warm glow of Camelot gave way to something familiar.
Then the brothers disappeared.
Chapter Eleven: Seven Minutes
Ethan landed on the attic floor. Oliver landed beside him. Finn landed on top of Oliver.
“Oof!”
“Get off me!”
Finn giggled as he rolled onto the carpet.
The golden light faded, leaving the attic exactly as they remembered it. Rain tapped against the window, dusty boxes lined the walls, and Great-Grandma Eleanor’s old trunk stood beneath the sloping roof.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Ethan sat up. He looked around slowly, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. They were home.
Oliver stared at his hands. His green tunic had disappeared, replaced by the jeans and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. His leather shoes were gone, and his familiar sneakers were back on his feet.
Ethan looked down at himself. His blue tunic had vanished too. He was wearing his regular clothes. And his socks were completely dry.
He wiggled his toes inside his sneakers. “Well, that’s something.”
Oliver glanced at him. “What?”
“My foot’s dry.”
Oliver stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You travelled back in time, met King Arthur, and watched Finn get knighted, and you’re worried about your socks?”
“I’ve been wearing a wet shoe for half the afternoon,” Ethan replied.
Finn stood and examined himself. His red tunic had disappeared, replaced by his favourite dinosaur T-shirt. He looked disappointed.
“I liked my knight clothes.”
Oliver grinned. “You looked like a little tomato.”
“I did not!”
“You did.”
Finn stuck out his tongue.
Ethan wasn’t laughing. He was staring at his brothers. Both of them. Alive. Safe. Home.
He thought about the moment Oliver disappeared in the attic, the terrifying uncertainty of following him, and the overwhelming relief of finding Finn in the great hall.
Without warning, he reached forward and pulled them both into a hug.
Oliver squirmed. “Ethan!”
“Just be quiet for a minute.”
Something in his brother’s voice made Oliver stop struggling. Finn wrapped his small arms around Ethan’s neck.
For a while, the three brothers sat together on the attic floor, listening to the rain.
Then Finn whispered, “Are you mad at me?”
Ethan closed his eyes. He thought about the empty attic, the glowing crystal, and the terrible possibility that he might never see either of his brothers again.
“A little,” he admitted.
Finn’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know.”
“I just wanted to see the knights.”
Ethan pulled back and looked into his little brother’s eyes.
“Finn, you can’t just disappear without telling anyone. We didn’t know where you were. Mum and Dad didn’t know where you were.”
Finn looked down at his hands. “I didn’t know it was real.”
“Neither did we,” Oliver admitted.
Finn glanced toward the box. “I thought it was pretending.”
“So did we,” Ethan said. “But even when we’re pretending, we need to look after each other.”
Finn nodded solemnly. “Okay.”
Ethan brushed a strand of blond hair from his little brother’s forehead.
“Next time, you ask us before touching anything strange. Promise?”
“I promise.”
Oliver sat beside them. “And next time, we all go together.”
Finn looked up. “Next time?”
Ethan sighed. Oliver grinned. Finn’s eyes widened.
“So we can go again?”
“Not tomorrow,” Ethan said quickly.
Finn thought about that. “Saturday?”
Oliver burst out laughing. Ethan shook his head.
“We’ll talk about it.”
From downstairs came their mother’s voice.
“BOYS! SUPPER!”
The three brothers froze. Ethan glanced at the clock.
Only seven minutes had passed since he’d gone upstairs to look for Finn.
Seven minutes.
They had travelled through time, met King Arthur, spoken with Merlin, and returned home. Yet their mother was still waiting for them to come downstairs.
Oliver stared at the clock. “That’s impossible.”
Ethan smiled. “You keep saying that.”
Finn reached into his pocket, and his expression changed.
“Hey!”
He pulled out a small silver coin. It gleamed in the afternoon light.
Ethan stared at it. Oliver leaned closer. On one side was a crown. On the other, a knight holding a sword.
Finn turned it over, running his finger along the edge. There, beneath the knight, were words none of them remembered seeing before.
Sir Finn, Knight of Camelot.
Finn beamed. “I’m really a knight!”
Oliver grinned. “An honorary knight.”
“Still a knight!”
Their mother called again.
“ETHAN! OLIVER! FINN!”
Ethan carefully placed the wooden box inside Great-Grandma Eleanor’s trunk.
“We’d better go.”
Oliver started toward the stairs, with Finn close behind.
Then Ethan stopped. He noticed an old photograph lying beside the trunk. It was one they’d seen earlier, showing Great-Grandma Eleanor as a young woman standing in front of a magnificent stone castle.
He picked it up. The castle looked familiar. Very familiar.
Ethan studied its towers, the enormous gates, and the banners flying above its walls.
Camelot.
His breath caught. Then he noticed something else. Standing beside Great-Grandma was a tall man wearing blue robes embroidered with silver stars.
Merlin.
Ethan stared at the photograph for a long moment. Great-Grandma was smiling, her hair blowing in the wind. She looked young and happy, as though someone had just told her a wonderful joke.
He remembered sitting beside her fireplace while she told stories about faraway places. He remembered the way she’d laughed when he asked whether she’d really met a wizard.
And he remembered something she’d once told him.
The world is full of extraordinary things, Ethan. Most people simply forget how to look for them.
He turned the photograph over. Written on the back, in Great-Grandma’s familiar handwriting, were the words:
The greatest adventures are those we share with the people we love.
And remember, my darling boys, courage comes in all sizes.
Ethan smiled. For a moment, he wished he could tell her what had happened. He wished he could ask about Camelot, Merlin, and all the places she must have visited.
Then he realized something. Perhaps she had already told him. Perhaps he’d simply been too young to understand.
He carefully returned the photograph to the trunk and closed the lid.
“Ethan!” Oliver called from the stairs. “Come on!”
“Coming!”
He paused at the attic door and looked back. For a moment, he could almost hear Great-Grandma laughing.
Then he switched off the light.
Downstairs, Finn was already telling their mother about the enormous horse he’d seen. Ethan hurried into the kitchen just as their father looked up.
“Where have you three been?”
Oliver opened his mouth. Ethan gave him a warning look. Oliver closed it.
Finn grinned. “We went on an adventure!”
Their father smiled. “Did you now?”
“Yep!”
“And where did you go?”
Finn looked at his brothers, then back at his father.
“Camelot.”
Their father laughed. “Of course you did.”
He passed Finn a plate. “Now eat your supper, Sir Finn.”
Finn’s eyes widened. He looked at Ethan. Then Oliver. And the three brothers burst out laughing.
Their parents exchanged puzzled glances, but neither asked any more questions. Some things, after all, were better left to the imagination.
Epilogue: Merlin’s Collection
In a quiet chamber high above the great hall of Camelot, Merlin stood beside an enormous wooden cabinet.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the narrow window, illuminating shelves crowded with books, strange instruments, glass bottles, and objects collected over a lifetime.
On his desk lay a curious little item. It was a slender blue cylinder made from some unfamiliar material, with a metal point at one end.
Merlin picked it up and examined it carefully. He had found it beneath the Round Table shortly after the three brothers disappeared. Apparently, one of them had dropped it.
The wizard turned it between his fingers, studying the small metal clip and the strange transparent window running along one side.
He pressed the tip against a piece of parchment. A thin blue line appeared.
Merlin smiled. “A writing instrument without feather or inkpot. Remarkable.”
He chuckled. Then he crossed the room and opened the cabinet.
Inside were dozens of peculiar objects collected over many years. A tiny metal torch. A wristwatch that no longer worked. A plastic hair clip. Several coins bearing the faces of unfamiliar monarchs.
And tucked inside a velvet-lined wooden case were seven writing instruments almost identical to the one in his hand.
Some were red. Some were black. One was green. Two had chewed ends.
Merlin shook his head affectionately. “Oh, Eleanor.”
He placed the blue pen beside the others.
“Eight.”
For a moment, he studied the collection, remembering a young woman who had first appeared in Camelot many years earlier wearing trousers, carrying a strange bag, and asking whether anyone knew where she could find a decent cup of tea.
He remembered her laughter, her endless questions, and the remarkable way she could turn an ordinary afternoon into an adventure.
She had been a dear friend. And he missed her.
Merlin gently closed the case.
“Well, my old friend,” he murmured, “it seems forgetfulness runs in the family.”
He returned the case to its shelf, then paused and opened it once more. Taking out the newest pen, he walked back to his desk and wrote a few words on a fresh piece of parchment.
The ink flowed beautifully. He admired the neat blue lettering. Then he smiled.
“Perhaps the future isn’t entirely without its advantages.”
He placed the pen back in the case and closed the cabinet.
Far below, knights practised in the courtyard. Horses moved through the gates, servants hurried between buildings, and life in Camelot continued much as it always had.
Merlin looked toward the window. Somewhere, far beyond the reach of ordinary time, three brothers were finishing their supper.
And although they didn’t know it yet, their greatest adventures had only just begun.
THE END
AUTHORSHIP & AI ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
The Lost Boy of Camelot was conceived, creatively directed, and developed by Nathaniel Theos, with the assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT in drafting and editorial refinement. The author guided the characters, plot, themes, and storytelling decisions.
The final creative vision and responsibility for the published work remain with Nathaniel Theos.
