EXT — FIELD OUTSIDE MORGANA’S LAIR, 537 AD — NIGHT
Morgana le Fay, wounded and pissed off and feeling very vengeful, crouches before her grimoire under a clear night sky ringed by nine fat white candles with steady flames. She holds a bloodied dagger in one hand and tosses the spell’s ingredients into the flame of the candle before her. Her voice is death-bed ragged and suitably witchy as she chants:
Beneath a Moon full and red,
with fiery Comet overhead,
by thy wish I speak this spell,
to curse he whose sword a maid did fell.
In that fateful battle fight,
against Table code did act a Knight.
Her death he caused unaware;
Sir Rhys a greater price must now bear.
Death too swift a curse to cast,
his suffering must be made to last!
Unto him this Curse shall fall;
with Rhianwen’s blooded blade I call
upon the Earth, Moon and Sky
to bind this Spell and my Will apply.
Life to Death and back the key;
from this day hence, Immortality.
Each death gains him pain anew,
each Rebirth memories of his due.
Others deaths he’ll watch through time
while his unending years but climb.
From this curse no respite he
will find, not until Time doth decree:
when Moon, Comet and Blade are three,
join Spell, Love and Death to set him free.
Thrice for thee and thrice for thine,
and thrice for she summates sacred nine.
Called and cast through woman’s will,
for woman’s honor ‘tis now fulfilled.
As she wished and as I’ve weaved,
this spell ‘tis bound, thus I mote it be.