Merlin wanted no part of Vivienne’s artifice. Alas, in this domain of predestination, he was powerless to do anything other than to expose his innermost secrets to the one woman who could turn his magic mirror against him, using it like the shield of Perseus. Fortunately, predestiny also showed him the path toward mutually assured destruction.
“M’lady, this final secret will grant you dominion over the Anemoi.” Merlin, nearly petrified, slid the parchment into the lake, where Vivienne greedily awaited.
She muttered, “Why is this in Latin, then? Oh, never mind.” She dramatically cleared her throat and recited the words.
“Nota bene magnos de deo ventis arida mi imperii sitis.”
Before she could invoke the remaining Anemoi, a mighty sirocco swept in from the south and evaporated the lake waters.