Vortigern, the usurper-king, sought to raise a tower high upon the hill, a fortress against the shadows gathering around him. Yet no matter how the masons toiled, the stones would not hold. Each dawn, the walls lay in ruin as if the earth itself rejected him.

His magicians, fearing his wrath, whispered of dark remedies. “A child with no father must be slain,” they said. “Let his blood soak the ground, and the tower will stand.” And so they found the boy-Merlin, son of mystery.

But the child laughed at their lies. “Summon your magicians before me,” he said, “and I will show you the truth.” His eyes burned brighter than fire as he spoke: “Beneath this cursed tower lies a secret-tear down these stones and see.”

The walls were pulled apart, and there, as Merlin foretold, a dark pool lay hidden. “Drain it,” Merlin commanded. Beneath its waters, they uncovered two hollow stones, and from them rose two dragons-one white as bone, the other red as blood. They woke and clashed, fire and fury filling the sky, until the red dragon struck the white down.

Vortigern trembled. “What does this mean?”

And Merlin, like a prophet of old, answered:
“Woe to the Red Dragon, for it is our people, and it shall be driven low. The White Dragon is the invader you have called to these shores. Our rivers shall run red, our sacred halls will fall silent. But in the end, the Red shall rise again. From the west shall come the Boar-he will lift our people and trample the invader beneath his feet.”

Vortigern shall fall, but Arthur shall rise-born of fire and prophecy, to unite the land, drive out the White Dragon, and bring freedom once more.